The Wildfire Club - The Emma Hardinge Britten Archive

166 THE IXPBOTV1S.A.TOBE,
should it not find organs better suited to its use than this
poor clay? And when it's done with that, why not speak
to you precisely as it now does through this clay?"
.. I cannot argue with you, Ernest," replied the lady;
.. I think and feel you're right, but fear to use my reason
lest I prOfJe it true, and proving that, prOfJe more tlum my
religion would allow. Your words, however, only give
expression to what I've felt, or, may be, dreamed of, all
my life. The air to me is full of shapes. No creature
approaches me but his shadow . precedes him, sometimes
close to him, sometimes a few minutes in advance. I see
these shapes outside of every creature, and know who is
coming near; and those who are going to die, I know by
something which I can't express, but see it stamped upon
their ,hapes. I do not speak of these things much; the
world will not believe me; and yet how common is this
power! Scarcely a village, town, or hamlet, but has some
old muttering crone, supposed to be a witch, or shunned as
evil, who IIOnverses with the air, sees shapes of persons,
and on those shapes diseases, characteristics, and oftentimes
eYents, which, proving true, prove also something,
telling mind more than the body sees. The world believes
this too, it is so common, provided you will only call it
,trange. But when you search for causes, they say 'tis
• superstition,' or • illusion.' What is illusion? How
grew superstition? But tell me, Ernest, what was your
phantom like? Your friend, you say, could see her, and
preserved her image. I'll be sworn that precious picture
was not shipwrecked with yourself."
.. It was though, Gabrielle, shipwrecked with me, but
also saved with me; and now for the strangest part of all.
Would you choose to see that face, my Gabrielle? Can
you bear to look upon it ? "