_Plot V._--The White Lily, Priscilla, vaporously festering, turns out to be the famous Veiled Lady of public spiritualist shows: she whom the undesirable Husband, called the Professor, has used as a medium. Also she is Zenohia's half-sister. _Débâcle_ Nobody wants Zenohia in the end. She goes off without her flower. The blacksmith marries Priscilla. Nathaniel dribblingly confesses that he, too, has loved Prissy all the while. Boo-hoo! _Conclusion_ A few years after, Nathaniel meets the blacksmith in a country lane near a humble cottage, leaning totteringly on the arm of the frail but fervent Priscilla. Gone are all dreams of asylums, and the saviour of criminals can't even save himself from his own Veiled Lady. There you have a nice little bunch of idealists, transcendentalists, brookfarmers, and disintegrated gentry. All going slightly rotten. Two Pearls: a white Pearl and a black Pearl: the latter more expensive, lurid with money. The white Pearl, the little medium, Priscilla, the imitation pearl, has truly some "supernormal" powers. She could drain the blacksmith of his blackness and his smith-strength. Priscilla, the little psychic prostitute. The degenerate descendant of Ligeia. The absolutely yielding, "loving" woman, who abandons herself utterly to her lover. Or even to a gold-toothed "professor" of spiritualism. Is it all bunkum, this spiritualism? Is it just rot, this Veiled Lady? Not quite. Apart even from telepathy, the apparatus of human consciousness is the most wonderful message-receiver in existence. Beats a wireless station to nothing. Put Prissy under the tablecloth then. Miaow! What happens? Prissy under the tablecloth, like a canary when you cover his cage, goes into a "sleep," a trance. A trance, not a sleep. A trance means that all her _individual_, personal intelligence goes to sleep, like a hen with her head under her wing. But the _apparatus_ of consciousness remains working. Without a soul in it. And what can this apparatus of consciousness do, when it works? Why surely something. A wireless apparatus goes tick-tick-tick, taking down messages. So does your human apparatus. All kinds of messages. Only the soul, or the under-consciousness deals with these messages in the dark, in the under-conscious. Which is the natural course of events. But what sorts of messages? All sorts. Vibrations from the stars, vibrations from unknown magnetos, vibrations from unknown people, unknown passions. The human apparatus receives them all, and they are all dealt with in the under-conscious. There are also vibrations of thought, many, many. Necessary to get the two human instruments in key. There may even be vibrations of ghosts in the air. Ghosts being dead _wills_, mind you, not dead souls. The soul has nothing to do with these dodges.