u to compassion, you have
felt the magic power stirring in your own soul. You feel it when some
mysterious power, without any will of your own, prompts you to some act,
be it what it may. And, besides all this, if a leaf flutters off the
table without being touched by any visible hand, you do not doubt that
a draught of air, which you can neither hear nor see, has swept through
the room. If at noon the world is suddenly darkened, you know, without
looking up at the sky, that it is overcast by a cloud. In the very same
way you can feel the nearness of a soul that was dear to you without
being able to see it. All that is necessary is to strengthen the faculty
which knows its presence, and give it the proper training, and then you
will see and hear them. The Magians have the key which unlocks the door
of the world of spirits to the human senses. Your noble brother, in whom
the claims of the spirit have long since triumphed over those of sense,
has found this key without seeking it, since he has been permitted to
see Korinna's soul. And if he follows a competent guide he will see her
again."

"But why? What good will it do him?" asked Melissa, with a reproachful
and anxious look at the man whose influence, as she divined would be
pernicious to her brother, in spite of his knowledge. The Magian gave
a compassionate shrug, and in the look he cast at the philosopher, the
question was legible, "What have such as these to do with the highest
things?"

Philip nodded in impatient assent, and, without paying any further heed
to his brother and sister, besought his friend to give him the proofs
of the theory that the physical causation of things is weaker than the
sympathy which connects them. Melissa knew full well that any attempt
now to separate Philip from Serapion would be futile; however, she would
not leave the last chance untried, and asked him gravely whether he had
forgotten his mother's tomb.

He hastily assured her that he fully intended to visit it presently.
Fruit and fragrant oil could be had here at any hour of the night.

"And your two wreaths?" she said, in mild reproach, for she had observed
them both below the portrait of Korinna.

"I had another use for them," he said, evasively; and then he added,
apologetically: "You have brought flowers enough, I know. If I can find
time, I will go to-morrow to see my father." He nodded to them both,
turned to the Magian, and went on eagerly:

"Then that magical sympat