en--there is only one Viola Lambert in the world. Nothing in the
annals of the occult exceeds her wonderful mediumship. She _must_ give
herself to the world of science. She _must_ help us to prevail over
the terrors of the grave. Her mission is magnificent. Her fame will
fill the earth."

Kate stoutly confronted him. "Perhaps the fame you give her will
destroy her. It sounds to me like notoriety rather than fame. This
poor child has a right to herself, and I will help her assert it."

Clarke's eloquent hand fell to his side. Something in Kate's calm,
matter-of-fact speech reached his shrewder self. He perceived here no
mean antagonist. "You need not take the trouble, madam. I am guarding
her. _They_ are guarding her."

It was plain that both Mrs. Lambert and her daughter were profoundly
in obedience if not in terror of this wild young evangel, and Kate, to
test her divination, said, "Suppose she refuses?"

"She dare not refuse. Her 'control' would cut her down where she
stands. She has no choice where they are concerned. The hands are upon
her this moment," he ended, triumphantly.

A shudder of despair went over the girl. "It's true; I feel them
here." She touched her throat. "They are all against me--the living
and the dead," and she fell into her chair with a moan of despair, her
beauty, her shining garments adding to the pity of her fate. Kate's
heart went out to her without reservation as she knelt beside her.

"I am for you, my dear, and so is my brother; we will help you, I give
you my word. Be brave. You must see Morton and Dr. Weissmann. They
will know what to do."

Viola turned upon her mother with a wail of supplication. "Take me
home, mother, take me home!"

Mrs. Lambert herself was weeping now. "I dare not, dearie, not till
_they_ consent. Be patient--they have promised to release you after
this test."

Over the girl's face a stony rigidity spread, her eyelids drooped, her
head rolled from side to side, a pitiful, moaning cry came from her
pinched lips, and then, at last, drawing a long, peaceful sigh, she
slept.

Kate, in terror, stood watching, waiting till the lines of struggle,
of pain, smoothed out, and the girl, doubly beautiful in her
resignation, lay like one adorned for the angel of death. Then Clarke
said, solemnly: "She has ceased to struggle. She is in good hands, in
the care of those who love her and understand her; when she wakes she
will be newly consecrated to her great work. Com