he time, what she
was writing. Her thoughts had, in a curious way, become subservient to
her actions. Afterwards, when she tried to remember what she had felt,
she could recollect no impression.

When the quick movement of her hand stopped and the automatic writing
ceased, her powers of thought seemed suddenly to reassert themselves.
Probably what she had been writing was mere unintelligible scribble.

Margaret had never heard of the writing of the "unseen hand." She was
more nervous than she was aware of; there was a heavy beating at her
heart, a wonder in her mind. She looked with apprehension at the sheet
of paper on the tablet. Her hand had certainly written something, but
the writing was not her own. It was untidy and broken. She tried to
read it, but the first words made her so nervous that she could not go
any further. They brought the colour flying to her face, but it
quickly left it; she became wide-eyed; her hands trembled. It was
horrible to think that some outside influence had taken possession of
her actions. She fought for self-control, and managed to read the
message.

"The rays of Aton, which encompass all lands, will protect him, the
enemy will fear him because of them. The living Aton, beside Whom
there is no other, this hath He ordained. The Light of Aton will
scatter the enemy and turn his hand from victory. When the chicken
crieth in the egg-shell, He giveth it life, delighting that it should
chirp with all its might. The same Aton, Who liveth for ever, Who
slumbers not, neither does He sleep, knows the wishes of your heart.
The Lord of Peace will not tolerate the victory of those who delight in
strife. His rays, bright, great, gleaming, high above all earth. . . ."

There the writing became almost indecipherable; many words were quite
meaningless; only the end of the last line was distinct:

"To the mistress of his happiness, Aton, the Loving Father, giveth
counsel."

When Margaret had finished reading the amazing thing that her hand had
written, she was faint and frightened. What had come over her? How
could she account for the mysterious thing which had happened?

The state of her nerves prevented her thinking connectedly or sensibly.
The meaning of the message scarcely formed any part of her
bewilderment; it was the automatic writing itself which disturbed her.
It made her very unhappy. She had never heard of anything like it
happening to anyone else. She wished that s