"One evening after dinner I was sitting alone with Vera Soudin; her mother had not been well enough to come down to dinner, and the other men had retired to the billiard-room. The light from the candles was overpowered by the brightness of the fire, and as she leant back, this ruddy glow gave an additional attraction to the delicate beauty of her face. I forgot for the moment all about my new power, and sat looking at her without speaking, the whole force of my will unconsciously exercised in a desire to gain her love. She sat silent, gazing at the burning logs as though unconscious of my presence. Then I recognized an inaudible voice speaking. I use the words ’voice’ and ’speaking’ because as yet our language is too imperfect to express any sensations connected with the sixth sense. The sentence was, however, unmistakable. "’_I love him._’ "I answered her aloud. ’Why do you?’ "Her face flushed and then lost all colour save what the firelight cast there. ’Why do I what?’ she stammered. "I cared for her too much to press my advantage. ’I love you!’ I said, and getting up I went over and knelt by her side; then looking into her eyes I saw an expression that I had never seen before. "What man who has once been brought under this influence could ever forget it--man’s passion reflected upon woman’s nature, the idealized counterpart of his sensations revealed on the idol of worship? In a moment such as this, reason is trampled under the feet of a hundred new emotions, hurrying forward to find expression, and the man’s action will be determined by natural instincts, and not, as is more often the case, by the training and habits which have moulded them. During such times of intoxication we become for once natural; and as all men tend by nature, if on a lower plane, to idiocy, if on a higher to madness, such moments are best kept private. An observer missing the more delicate atmosphere of pathos which ever surrounds a truly comic situation, is apt to rest his own instability more on the stick of ridicule than the crutch of pity. "As, however, owing to the power which I have of reading other people’s thoughts of myself, my nature has become impervious to scorn; and as it is better that you should have the opportunity of judging my actions impartially, I will throw off reserve as far as possible. "We remained much in the same attitude for an indefinite period of sensations, which may probably have extended to thirty minutes, her hands clasped in mine as we talked together. As far as I can remember, the conversation rested principally with me, and her answers came back chiefly in unspoken thoughts. I will endeavour to give you an idea of what passed between us, audibly and inaudibly.