“I have!” replied David Lindsay, with an assumed solemnity that imposed upon his companion. “WHAT!” “I have.” “Do you know what I asked you?” “Yes.” “And you say you have?” “Yes.” “Been interviewed by a ghost?” “Yes.” “Oh, David Lindsay, what do you mean?” demanded Gloria, in wonder and perplexity. “My dear little lady, I mean very much of what I have said,” he gravely replied. “Do explain yourself. Have you seen or heard anything extraordinary in this strange house?” “My dear lady, yes, I have. Last night, or rather early this morning, I had an extraordinary dream, or vision—no, not vision, for I saw nothing—but visitation, for I both felt and heard the presence,” said the young man, as seriously as before. “Now, are you in earnest? But of course you are. You would not jest on such a subject.” “I am not jesting,” said the young man, gently. “Yet it would seem absurd to be in earnest about the matter. In truth, I am perplexed. For, dear Gloria, I am not ready to deny or utterly disbelieve in the possibility of communication between the natural and the spiritual world—in the face of so much evidence from tradition and history and even from the Word of the Lord. What I experienced last night would have almost persuaded me to believe in the possible return of departed spirits, but for some strange inconsistency in the communication made me.” “Tell me all about it, David Lindsay,” exclaimed Gloria, dropping her work upon her lap and gazing up at him. “Last night, after I went to my room, I locked and bolted both the doors and hooked and bolted both pairs of window-shutters. Then I went to bed, and towards morning fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, such as would naturally follow the last week of excessive fatigue.” “Like mine, yes.” “From that death-like sleep I was gently but completely awakened by feeling a light hand laid on my forehead. ‘Who is there?’ I called. A low, tender, flute-like voice replied: ‘It is I, your mother. David Gryphyn, arise and go hence—get to your home. My mother has somewhat to say to you.’” “Gracious Heaven, David Lindsay, do you tell me that!” exclaimed Gloria, turning pale. “Yes, but whether this was a dream or a visitation, I cannot tell you. I must say it was more like a visitation.” “What did you do or say?” “Nothing at first. I felt spell-bound—dumfounded.” “Did you see this mysterious visitant?” “No, I only felt her hand on my forehead and heard her voice in my ears.” “Did she speak again?” “No.” “Then what did you do?” “I sprang out of bed and threw open the window-shutters. The sun was rising and filled the room full of light. I searched the place thoroughly, and found no one; examined the doors, and found them securely locked and bolted as I had left them on the previous night.” “And so you were convinced that no one was concealed in your chamber, or could have entered it during the night.” “Yes, I am convinced of that.” “David Lindsay, what do you think of this yourself?”