Dr. Paull had but little sleep that night. He spent it reading a book which had been presented to him by its author a few months ago, and which he had then shelved at the top of his bookcases among works not likely to be required. The author was an old man, a Mr. Helven, who had been a celebrated analytical chemist, but who had retired from active practice to pursue certain fantastic theories which had taken possession of his mind. He had been a frequent visitor at the Pinewood during Sir Roderick’s lifetime. Hugh had seen him once since at a learned conversazione, and they had had some discussion, the result of which was that Mr. Helven sent him a copy of his book, “The result,” he wrote in the accompanying note, “of the research of a lifetime.” Dr. Paull had thoughts which he chose to hide, not only from the whole world, but even, if possible, from himself. He took the book to his bedroom and only began to read when the last sounds of daily life had ceased within and without the house. The title of the work was: “_On Certain Ancient Doctrines._ By a Modern Pythagorean.” While cutting the pages Hugh’s attention was arrested by certain words on the flyleaf: “BOOK II. ON THE AGE OF SOULS.” “Where have I seen that before?” he asked himself. The words were familiar, and recalled sensations the reverse of pleasant. He pondered for a few minutes: then he recollected. Memory carried his mind back to the night at the Pinewood when, after the day spent with Lilia, Sir Roderick had lent him a treatise written by a Dutch author. He had, so he afterwards believed, fallen asleep while reading it—and had dreamt that he read a chapter or chapters of its second part (which was entitled, “On the Age of Souls”). This finding in black and white that of which he had dreamt years ago was weird. He turned over the pages that followed, and the sense of the uncanny was intensified. Here, almost word for word, was the strange treatise which he had read in his vision long ago; here was the history of the old doctrine of Metempsychosis, or the passage of the Soul through many bodies in various lives. There was also the speculation of the author (or commentator), that the object of all life upon the planet was to develop high spiritual force: gradually, slowly, through its friction with material frames. The speculator assumed this plan to be a merciful idea of a beneficent Creator, by which the Soul, when finally attaining to its eternal grandeur, might not be overwhelmed with the magnitude of its obligations, because it would recognise glory as principally earned by its long course of suffering and struggle.