horizontally with his stick towards the centre of the opposite structure.

'Oh, _that_--that place where poor mamma is?'

'Yes, a stone wall with pillars, too high for either you or me to see over.
But----'

Here he mentioned a name which I think must have been Swedenborg, from what
I afterwards learnt of his tenets and revelations; I only know that it
sounded to me like the name of a magician in a fairy tale; I fancied he
lived in the wood which surrounded us, and I began to grow frightened as he
proceeded.

'But Swedenborg sees beyond it, over, and _through_ it, and has told me all
that concerns us to know. He says your mamma is not there.'

'She is taken away!' I cried, starting up, and with streaming eyes, gazing
on the building which, though I stamped my feet in my distraction, I was
afraid to approach. 'Oh, _is_ mamma taken away? Where is she? Where have
they brought her to?'

I was uttering unconsciously very nearly the question with which Mary,
in the grey of that wondrous morning on which she stood by the empty
sepulchre, accosted the figure standing near.

'Your mamma is alive but too far away to see or hear us. Swedenborg,
standing here, can see and hear her, and tells me all he sees, just as I
told you in the garden about the little boys and the cottage, and the trees
and flowers which you could not see. You believed in when _I_ told you. So
I can tell you now as I did then; and as we are both, I hope, walking on to