of brain, yawned and apologized for having fallen asleep,
whereon the professor and the colonel both assured him that it was
quite natural on so warm a day. Only Madame Riennes smiled like a
sphinx, and asked him if his dreams were pleasant. To this he replied
that he remembered none.

Miss Ogilvy, however, who looked rather anxious and guilty, did not
speak at all, but busied herself with the tea which Godfrey thought
very strong when he drank it. However, it refreshed him wonderfully,
which, as it contained some invigorating essence, was not strange. So
did the walk in the beautiful garden which he took afterwards, just
before the carriage came to drive him back to Kleindorf.

Re-entering the drawing-room to say goodbye, he found the party engaged
listening to the contents of a number of sheets of paper closely
written in pencil, which were being read to them by Colonel Josiah
Smith, who made corrections from time to time.

"_Au revoir_, my young brother," said Madame Riennes, making some
mysterious sign before she took his hand in her fat, cold fingers, "you
will come again next Sunday, will you not?"

"I don't know," he answered awkwardly, for he felt afraid of this lady,
and did not wish to see her next Sunday.

"Oh! but I do, young brother. You will come, because it gives me so
much pleasure to see you," she replied, staring at him with her strange
eyes.

Then Godfrey knew that he would come because he must.

"Why does that lady call me 'young brother'?" he asked Miss Ogilvy, who
accompanied him to the hall.

"Oh! because it is a way she has. You may have noticed that she called
me 'sister'."

"I don't think that I shall call _her_ sister," he remarked with
decision. "She is too alarming."

"Not really when you come to know her, for she has the kindest heart
and is wonderfully gifted."

"Gifts which make people tell others that they are going to die are not
pleasant, Miss Ogilvy."

She shivered a little.

"If her spirit--I mean the truth--comes to her, she must speak it, I
suppose. By the way, Godfrey, don't say anything about this talisman
and the story you told of it, at Kleindorf, or in writing home."

"Why not?"

"Oh! because people like your dear old Pasteur, and clergymen
generally, are so apt to misunderstand. They think that there is only
one way of learning things beyond, and that every other must be wrong.
Also I am sure that your friend, Isobel Blake, would laugh at you."

"I don'