Now, in their thousands, they are flocking to this
little light, seeking escape. Her own escape, don't you see, may release
them all!"
It took my breath away. Had his predecessors, former occupants of this
house, also preached damnation of all the world but their own exclusive
sect? Was this the explanation of her obscure talk of "layers," each
striving against the other for domination? And if men are spirits, and
these spirits survive, could strong Thought thus determine their
condition even afterwards?
So many questions flooded into me that I selected no one of them, but
stared in uncomfortable silence, bewildered, out of my depth, and
acutely, painfully distressed. There was so odd a mixture of possible
truth and incredible, unacceptable explanation in it all; so much
confirmed, yet so much left darker than before. What she said did,
indeed, offer a quasi-interpretation of my own series of abominable
sensations--strife, agony, pity, hate, escape--but so far-fetched that
only the deep conviction in her voice and attitude made it tolerable for
a second even. I found myself in a curious state of mind. I could
neither think clearly nor say a word to refute her amazing statements,
whispered there beside me in the shivering hours of the early morning
with only a wall between ourselves and--Mabel.
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