ze shifting
from object to object in the room. "I don't understand," he kept
repeating in a dull, almost querulous voice,--"I don't understand
why." And her heart responded in a passion of tenderness and grief.
But she found no further words to say to him, no explanation that
might comfort him.

"Will he ever come here--anywhere--again?" he asked suddenly.

"Oh, Clive, I don't know."

"Don't you know? Couldn't you find out?"

"How? I don't know how to find out. I never try to inquire."

"Isn't there some way?"

"I don't really know, Clive. How could I know?"

"But when you see such people--shadows--shapes--"

"Yes.... They are not shadows."

"Do they seem real?"

"Why, yes; as real as you are."

"Athalie, how _can_ they be?"

"They are to me. There is nothing ghostly about them."

For a moment it almost seemed to her as though he resented her clear
seeing; then he said: "Have you always been able to see--this way?"

"As long as I can remember."

"And you have never tried to cultivate the power?"

"I had rather you did not call it that."

"But it is a power.... Well, call it faculty, then. Have you?"

"No. I told you once that I did not wish to see more clearly than
others. It is all involuntary with me."

"Would you try to cultivate it because I ask you to?"

"Clive!"

"Will you, Athalie?"

The painful colour mantled her face and neck and she turned and looked
away from him as though he had said a shameful thing.

He continued, impatiently: "Why do you feel that way about it? Why
should you not cultivate such a delicate and wonderful sense of
perception? Why are you reluctant? What reason is there for you to be
ashamed?"

"I don't know why."

"There is no reason! If in you there happen to be faculties sensitive
beyond ours, senses more complex, more exquisitely attuned to what
others are blind and deaf to, intuitions that to us seem miraculous, a
spirituality, perhaps, more highly developed, what is there in that to
cause you either embarrassment or concern? That in certain
individualities such is the case is now generally understood and
recognised. You happen to be one of them."

She looked up at him very quietly, but still flushed.

"Why do you wish me to try--make any effort to develop this--thing?"

"So that--if you _could_ see him again--and if, perhaps, he had
anything to say to me--"

"I understand."

"Will you try, Athalie?"

"I'll try--if you wish it. And if I can lear