He
turned, however, upon the request for admission, and led the way into
the dining-room, letting his visitor close the door and follow.
"Lefevre," said the strange voice, "I have come to show myself to you,
because I know you are a true-hearted friend, and because I think you
have that exquisite charity that can forgive all things."
"_Show myself!_" ... As Lefevre listened to the strange voice and looked
at the strange person, the suspicion came upon him--What if he were but
regarding an Illusion? He had read in some of his mystical and magical
writers, that men gifted with certain powers could project to a distance
eidola or phantasms of varying likeness to themselves: might not this be
such a mocking phantasm of Julius? He drew his hand across his eyes, and
looked again: the figure still sat there. He put out his hand to test
its substantiality, and the voice cried in a keen pitch of terror--
"Don't touch me!--for your own sake!... Why, Lefevre, do you look so
amazed and overcome? Is not my wretched secret written in my face?"
"And you are really Julius Courtney?" asked Lefevre, at length finding
utterance, with measured emphasis, and in a voice which he hardly
recognised as his own.
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