aft of the darker
ages, all the visions undoubtedly shown to wondering eyes by mediaeval
sorcerers, were traceable to moral influence, and to no other cause.
Unorna could not accept his reasoning. For her there was a deeper and
yet a more material mystery in it, as in her own life, a mystery which
she cherished as an inheritance, which impressed her with a sense of
her own strange destiny and of the gulf which separated her from other
women. She could not detach herself from the idea that the supernatural
played a part in all her doings, and she clung to the use of gestures
and passes and words in the exercise of her art, in which she fancied
a hidden and secret meaning to exist. Certain things had especially
impressed her. The not uncommon answer of hypnotics to the question
concerning their identity, "I am the image in your eyes," is undoubtedly
elicited by the fact that their extraordinarily acute and, perhaps,
magnifying vision, perceives the image of themselves in the eyes of
the operator with abnormal distinctness, and, not impossibly, of a
size quite incompatible with the dimensions of the pupil. To Unorna the
answer meant something more. It suggested the actual presence of the
person she was influencing, in her own brain, and whenever she was
undertaking anything especially difficult, she endeavoured to obtain the
reply relating to the image as soon as possible.

In the present case, she was sure that she had done none of the things
which she considered necessary to produce a definite result. She was
totally unconscious of having impressed upon the sleeper any suggestion
of her will. Whatever she had said, she had addressed the words to
herself without any intention that they should be heard and understood.

These reflections comforted her as she paced the marble floor, and yet
Keyork's remark rang in her ears and disturbed her. She knew how vast
his experience was and how much he could tell by a single glance at
a human face. He had been familiar with every phase of hypnotism long
before she had known him, and might reasonably be supposed to know
by inspection whether the sleep were natural or not. That a person
hypnotised may appear to sleep as naturally as one not under the
influence is certain, but the condition of rest is also very often
different, to a practised eye, from that of ordinary slumber. There is
a fixity in the expression of the face, and in the attitude of the
body, which cannot continue under