Mrs. Stilton was perhaps
forty years of age, of middle height, moderately plump in person, with
light-brown hair, soft, inexpressive gray eyes, and a meek, helpless,
imploring mouth. Her voice was mild and plaintive, and its accents of
anger (if she ever gave utterance to such) could not have been
distinguished from those of grief. She did not often attend our
sessions, and it was evident, that, while she endeavored to comprehend
the revelations, in order to please her husband, their import was very
far beyond her comprehension. She was now and then a little frightened
at utterances which no doubt sounded lewd or profane to her ears; but
after a glance at Mr. Stilton's face, and finding that it betrayed
neither horror nor surprise, would persuade herself that everything
must be right.
"Are you sure," she once timidly whispered to me, "are you very sure,
Mr. ------, that there is no danger of being led astray? It seems
strange to me; but perhaps I don't understand it."
Her question was so indefinite, that I found it difficult to answer.
Stilton, however, seeing me engaged in endeavoring to make clear to her
the glories of the new truth, exclaimed,--
"That's right, John! Your spiritual plane slants through many spheres,
and has points of contact with a great variety of souls.
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