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           ShemighthavebeendeadforalltheimpressionthatIcouldmake.Herbodywasthereonthevelvetchair.Herorganswereacting—herheart,herlungs.Buthersoul!Ithadslippedfrombeyondourken.Whitherhaditgone?Whatpowerhaddispossessedit?Iwaspuzzledanddisconcerted."Somuchforthemesmericsleep,"saidMissPenclosa."Asregardssuggestion,whateverImaysuggestMissMardenwillinfalliblydo,whetheritbenoworaftershehasawakenedfromhertrance.Doyoudemandproofofit?""Certainly,"saidI."Youshallhaveit."Isawasmilepassoverherface,asthoughanamusingthoughthadstruckher.Shestoopedandwhisperedearnestlyintohersubject’sear.Agatha,whohadbeensodeaftome,noddedherheadasshelistened."Awake!"criedMissPenclosa,withasharptapofhercrutchuponthefloor.Theeyesopened,theglazingclearedslowlyaway,andthesoullookedoutoncemoreafteritsstrangeeclipse.Wewentawayearly.Agathawasnonetheworseforherstrangeexcursion,butIwasnervousandunstrung,unabletolistentooranswerthestreamofcommentswhichWilsonwaspouringoutformybenefit.AsIbadehergood-nightMissPenclosaslippedapieceofpaperintomyhand."Prayforgiveme,"saidshe,"ifItakemeanstoovercomeyourscepticism.Openthisnoteatteno’clockto-morrowmorning.Itisalittleprivatetest."Ican’timaginewhatshemeans,butthereisthenote,anditshallbeopenedasshedirects.Myheadisaching,andIhavewrittenenoughforto-night.To-morrowIdaresaythatwhatseemssoinexplicablewilltakequiteanothercomplexion.