dense undergrowth, and soon entered an open space carpeted
with pine needles and moss. It was a circular plot in the
thicket, and out of its centre rose an immense pine, whose
upper branches wholly obscured the sky. My uncle hung his
lantern on a knot protruding from the trunk of the tree, and
slowly knelt upon the ground, covering his face with his
hands. Suddenly he beckoned to me, and I knelt down beside
him.

"Listen!" said he. "Do you hear voices? She comes to me
here. Can you see her--my wife? Look about you, do you not
see her?"

He laid his trembling hand upon my shoulder. Again I saw
that awful gleam in his eyes. The gruesome suggestion he had
made set my nerves tingling, and I peered about among the
shadows of that dimly lighted recess, half expecting some
vision to greet my eyes. Then there came a loud rustling of
the branches high above us. The lantern light flared up and
suddenly went out, leaving us in total darkness.

"She is here!" he whispered, in excitement. "Sit still--do
not speak."

A deep silence, intensified by the sound of the night wind
in the trees around us, followed my uncle's words. The going
out of the light he had seemed to regard as a signal from
the spirit world, and I sat still as he bade me, not
doubting that his acute senses had penetrated the veil which
limited my own vision. I had seen so many revelations of his