I am far from supposing, on the other hand, that Lady Kildhurm was above sharing the persuasions of these unenlightened people as to the extent of her own enlightenment, or perhaps, as to the channels through which it was obtained. Persons in her peculiar condition are not apt to be lacking in self-appreciation, and easily adopt any theory concerning themselves which seems to give them the distinction appertaining to supernatural pretensions. It is highly probable that the widow of Sir Norman believed that she held communion with beings of another world or plane of existence, and that she was happy in that belief. It is certain that she regarded herself as in a manner a sacred personage, and that she attributed the highest importance to all her acts and utterances, no matter how meaningless these might appear to the uninitiated observer. She commonly spoke of the Oak as 'My Friend,' or 'My Counsellor,' and was careful to observe certain ceremonies and formalities before ascending into the seclusion of the branches: such as kneeling at the foot of the trunk and touching her forehead to the bark, and tracing a circle round about the base of the tree with her ivory cross. A few rude foot-rests had been made, by means of which she could ascend to her retreat with ease; and in the angle of the boughs she had constructed for herself a sort of seat, which she called her throne. Here, no doubt, the pleasantest hours of her weird and lonely existence were passed. Here she gathered in the harvest of her wisdom, and from hence she gave it forth. The sinister Oak, which had been the hostile tyrant of the Kildhurm race for more than a hundred and fifty years, was become this forlorn woman's most intimate and inexhaustible companion. On summer days the branches which supported her swayed soothingly, and the broad leaves whispered in a murmurous undertone; while glimpses of yellow sunshine strayed here and there through the interstices of the foliage; or, perhaps, a shower pattered harmlessly on the living roof overhead. From below came up the endless prattle of the musical ocean, and the sparkle of its breezy blue. What wonder if, at such moments, she heard voices that do not speak to mortal ears, or beheld visions whereof the outward eye can take no note? But when the great equinoctial gales were let loose, and came shrieking down upon the astonished coast, then did the sibyl and her Oak strike a wilder and more interior chord of harmony. The Oak breathed forth its deep organ-tones of power and defiance, while the sibyl loudly chanted a thrilling treble, that often rang out above the other noises of the natural symphony, and caused passing travellers to start and stare, and, if the night were already fallen, to hasten their steps and wish themselves safe at home. After such a bout, the prophetess would descend from her perch with a flashing eye and an exalted mien, as if instinct with the divine fury of the seers of old; and occasionally,