“Oh, yes, so gloriously happy.” “Is it right that you can come back?” “Would God allow it if it were not right? What a wicked man you must be to ask!” “What religion were you?” “We were Roman Catholics.” “Is that the right religion?” “All religions are right if they make you better.” “Then it does not matter.” “It is what people do in daily life, not what they believe.” “Tell us more, Lucille.” “Lucille has little time. There are others who wish to come. If Lucille uses too much power, the others have less. Oh, God is very good and kind! You poor people on earth do not know how good and kind He is because it is grey down there. But it is grey for your own good. It is to give you your chance to earn all the lovely things which wait for you. But you can only tell how wonderful He is when you get over here.” “Have you seen him?” “Seen him! How could you see God? No, no, He is all round us and in us and in everything, but we do not see Him. But I have seen the Christ. Oh, He was glorious, glorious! Now, good-bye--good-bye!” She backed towards the cabinet and sank into the shadows. Now came a tremendous experience for Malone. A small, dark, rather broad figure of a woman appeared slowly from the cabinet. Mrs. Linden encouraged her and then came across to the journalist. “It is for you. You can break the circle. Come up to her.” Malone advanced and peered awestruck into the face of the apparition. There was not a foot between them. Surely that large head, that solid, square outline was familiar! He put his face still nearer--it was almost touching. He strained his eyes. It seemed to him that the features were semi-fluid, moulding themselves into a shape, as if some unseen hand was modelling them in putty. “Mother!” he cried. “Mother!” Instantly the figure threw up both her hands in a wild gesture of joy. The motion seemed to destroy her equilibrium and she vanished. “She had not been through before. She could not speak,” said Mrs. Linden, in her businesslike way. “It was your mother.” Malone went back, half-stunned, to his seat. It is only when these things come to one’s own address that one understands their full force. His mother! Ten years in her grave and yet standing before him. Could he _swear_ it was his mother? No, he could not. Was he morally certain that it was his mother? Yes, he was morally certain. He was shaken to the core. But other wonders diverted his thoughts. A young man had emerged briskly from the cabinet and had advanced to the front of Mailey, where he had halted. “Hullo, Jock! Dear old Jock!” said Mailey. “My nephew,” he explained to the company. “He always comes when I am with Linden.” “The power is sinking,” said the lad, in a clear voice. “I can’t stay very long. I am so glad to see you, Uncle. You know, we can see quite clearly in this light, even if you can’t.”