“But _can_ we know without doubt? Do we know with what we are conversing? I confess I have seen so much charlatanry I cannot be sure of anything.” “Have you not had experiences in your life, dear Mrs. Wylie, which have demonstrated to you a psychic power beyond explanation, save by this theory of spirit force?” “Possibly; though I only think of one instance now which might be of this class,” said Mrs. Wylie reflectively. “And may I ask if you will tell me that?” questioned Mrs. Lucien eagerly. “It happened several years ago. I took a sudden determination to visit my parents, and started immediately, without notifying them of my coming. Arriving at the station I found my father waiting for me, he having been impressed with the fact of my coming, in some unaccountable way; my thought of the early day having been communicated to him by a sort of mental telegraphy, I imagine.” “Ah, yes, there are so many instances of that kind. I have had many myself. I wonder, sometimes, if I am naturally superstitious. There have been many peculiar examples of second sight or clairvoyance in our family. It has been traditional for generations, and proven by accumulated evidence, that no great calamity can befall any member of us without forewarning, not alone to the victim, but to the others of the household. The warning always comes in the same way.” “And that is—?” Mrs. Wylie questioned. “By a footstep at the door,” continued Mrs. Lucien. “Before any death or evil to any one of the house we are startled by hearing a footstep come to the door, step heavily once or twice and then vanish from sound and sight. If the door is opened no one is visible to mortal eyes. Sometimes it comes more than once the same evening, and we know the evil is near at hand.” Mrs. Lucien spoke in a low, soft voice, of indescribable sadness, as she continued: “It has come to me several times, once before a trouble worse than death. Ah, and the footsteps were heavy and loud. I can hear and feel them yet, treading on my very heart. Then they came again before my darlings died, and I knew there was no hope, no hope that God would hear my prayer and spare them to me, though they were all I had. Truly, I can say there is no justice in the heavens. But forgive me, dear friend, I did not mean to so far forget myself,” she added, turning her white face toward the little woman, whose eyes were filled with tears of sympathy. “And you have had other children, and lost them? How sorry I am for you,” cried Mrs. Wylie impulsively.