And if it were no fiction, what _I have_ seen; what an astonishing mystery does it imply? How is it possible for a living, absent man to appear to his friend, as the deceased are reported to do? How can his soul disembody herself for a short time, and inclose herself in an imitated shape? The Irishman has, indeed, given me a hint concerning the possibility of such miracles; but how unfit was I to comprehend that distant hint, and how much did my soul thirst for the promised continuation of his discourse? He is in the right, I did not, as yet, deserve to be instructed in the mysteries of occult knowledge; I merited to be put off with vain delusions. How little did my impetuous curiosity agree with a disciple of occult knowledge; how insignificant must I have appeared to him! How great did he shew himself to me! With what an astonishing omniscience did he read my most hidden thoughts; with what a great sagacity has he laid open my weakness, and with how much frankness told me my defects! If it were his intention to deceive me any farther, he would silently have taken advantage of my blind side, and carefully avoided to open my eyes. He certainly could not have given me a more unsuspicious and convincing proof of the goodness and purity of his sentiments towards me.--This openness, this noble sincerity, deserves, undoubtedly, my unbounded gratitude. Yes, _Antonio, he shall guide me in thy room! I will confide in him as I have confided in thee._ In the evening I went to Amelia, to inform her of my impending departure. She was just playing on the harpsicord, and received me with a silent smile, without suffering herself to be interrupted in her play. The Baroness, however, received me with cold civility; I could guess the reason of it; however I had no opportunity to make an excuse. The affecting pieces, which Amelia played with an unspeakable charm, began to melt my soul, and to thrill me with a sweet melancholy. But suddenly the recollection of the Irishman, of my resolution, and of my departure flushed through my head: I left my dangerous post, and Amelia ceased playing. I had placed myself at the open window----she followed me thither. “So immersed in meditation, my Lord?” “I am thinking of my departure.” “You are not going to leave us?” “I must depart the day after to-morrow. Business of great importance requires my personal attendance at Ma***t.” This news produced surprise and silence. The coldness of Lady Delier began to thaw. “I hope your business, my Lord,” said she, “is not so very pressing.” “Alas! it is so pressing that it suffers not the least delay.” “Alas!” Amelia repeated, “one should think your departure was painful to your heart!” She blushed, as if she had said something imprudent. “Alas! it is too painful to my heart; but who cares for my heart?” “Indeed,” Lady Delier replied, “you think very unkind of us.”