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 ing, however, an instant afterwards it opened of its own accord.”

Here Florentina stopped, as if overcome anew by the remembrance of her terror. At the same moment Amelia rose from her seat uttering a loud scream.

Her sister and her friend inquired what ailed her. For a long while she made them no reply, and would not resume her seat on the chair, the back of which was towards the door. At length, however, she confessed (casting an inquiring and anxious look around her) that a hand, cold as ice, had touched her neck.

“This is truly the effect of imagination,” said Maria, reseating herself. “It was my hand: for some time my arm has been resting on your chair; and when mention was made of the door opening of its own accord, I felt a wish to rest on some living object—”

“But à-propos,—And the door ?”

“Strange incident! I trembled with fear; and clinging to my father, asked him if he did not see a sort of splendid light, a something brilliant, penetrate the apartment.

Tis well!’ answered he, in a low and tremulous voice, ‘we have lost a being whom we cherished; and consequently, in some degree, our minds are disposed to exalted ideas, and our ima-