Tuesday evenings, and had innumerable friends, and I _may_ (I don't say I _had_), but I may have sometimes speculated what my fate might be in the event of my becoming free. The _séance_ I speak of took place on a Wednesday morning; and when "Annie" told me I should be married a second time, my thoughts involuntarily took to themselves wings, I suppose, for she immediately followed up her assertion by saying, "No! not to the man who broke the tumbler at your house last night. You will marry another soldier." "No, thank-you," I exclaimed; "no more army men for me. I've had enough of soldiers to last me a lifetime." "Annie" looked very grave. "You _will_ marry another soldier," she reiterated; "I can see him now, walking up a terrace. He is very tall and big, and has brown hair cut quite short, but so soft and shiny. At the back of his head he looks as sleek as a mole. He has a broad face, a pleasant, smiling face, and when he laughs he shows very white teeth. I see him knocking at your door. He says, 'Is Mrs. Ross-Church at home?' 'Yes, sir.' Then he goes into a room full of books. 'Florence, my wife is dead. Will you be my wife?' And you say 'Yes.'" "Annie" spoke so naturally, and I was so astonished at her knowledge of my affairs, that it never struck me till I returned home that she had called me by my name, which had been kept carefully from her. I asked her, "When will my husband die?" "I don't see his death anywhere," she answered. "But how can I marry again unless he dies?" I said. "I don't know, but I can't tell you what I don't see. I see a house all in confusion, papers are thrown about, and everything is topsy-turvy, and two people are going different ways; and, oh, there is so much trouble and so many tears! But I don't see any death anywhere."