Then these too
were gone; and he was out in some warm silence, filled with a single
presence--that which he desired; and there he stopped.
* * * * *
He was not in the least aware of how long this lasted. But he found
himself at a certain moment in time, looking steadily at the white
paper on the table, from which the hand had gone, again conscious of
the sudden passing of some clear sound that left no echo--as sharp as
the crack of a whip. Oh! the paper--that was the important point! He
bent a little closer, and was aware of a sharp disappointment as he
saw it was stainless of writing. Then he was astonished that the hand
and pencil had gone from it, and looked up quickly.
Mr. Vincent was looking at him with a strange expression.
At first he thought he might have interrupted, and wondered with
dismay whether this were so. But there was no sign of anger in those
eyes--nothing but a curious and kindly interest.
"Nothing happened?" he exclaimed hastily. "You have written nothing?"
He looked at the ladies.
Lady Laura too was looking at him with the same strange interest as
the medium. Mrs. Stapleton, he noticed, was just folding up, in an
unobtrusive manner, several sheets of paper that he had not noticed
before.
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