ann es selbst nicht schreiben!_"[2]
and vanished before my very eyes as she rose from the table. Now had
this been a case of fraud, and supposing that some woman had means of
discovering the name of my New York friend and the fact of my having
spent that very afternoon with her, what would have been easier than to
write or give some commonplace message in a language of which she had
already proved herself mistress?

[2] Translation: "No! no! I cannot even write it!"

The episode was so painful that I decided _not_ to write to Madame
Schewitsch about it. I have therefore no absolute corroboration of the
fact that the lady mentioned had a sister who became a nun, or who was
connected with some such establishment, and had passed over. This,
however, is much more probable than not, because in every high-born
Catholic family in Austria, one member in a large family almost
invariably takes the veil. I have given the real name in this case,
hoping Madame Schewitsch may perchance come across my book, and supply
the information needed. I may remark, finally, that three or four months
later, whilst travelling in California, I heard from my excitable and
sceptical Italian friend (who had given me the introduction to Madame
Schewitsch) that this lady had had a long and most serious illness
during my absence in the West, and that her husband and he had both
feared she would never recover from it. This fear, fortunately, proved
to be groundless.

To return to the sitting.

About twenty minutes after the "sister" had disappeared, a figure in
white came forward very swiftly, and without a moment's hesitation
pointed towards me, saying quickly: "_For you._"

I went up at once, recognising who it was, but determined to give no
sign of this fact.

The "spirit" looked at me for a moment with surprise, as one might look
at any well-known friend who passed us in the street without a greeting.

As I remained silent she whispered: "Don't you know me?" I am afraid _I_
gave the false impression this time, and asked her for her name.

"_Why, I am Muriel!_" came the instant answer, mentioning the name of
the first friend who had appeared to me, after spelling out her name, at
the previous _seances_ held in another part of New York.

On this third appearance my spirit friend asked me to kiss her. I must
confess that I complied with some amount of trepidation, which proved to
be quite unnecessary.

There was nothing the least repulsive