This gentleman was in command of a small British force in one of the remotest and least accessible of our dependencies, not connected by telegraph, at the time of the incident, with the distant mainland.  In the force was a particularly folly young captain.  One night he went to a dance, and, as the sleeping accommodation was exhausted, he passed the night, like a Homeric hero, on a couch beneath the echoing loggia.  Next day, contrary to his wont, he was in the worst of spirits, and, after moping for some time, asked leave to go a three days’ voyage to the nearest telegraph station.  His commanding officer, my informant, was good-natured, and gave leave.  At the end of a week Captain ——­ returned, in his usual high spirits.  He now admitted that, while lying awake in the verandah, after the ball, he had seen a favourite brother of his, then in, say, Peru.  He could not shake off the impression; he had made the long voyage to the nearest telegraph station, and thence had telegraphed to another brother in, let us say, Hong Kong, ‘Is all well with John?’ He received a reply, ‘All well by last mail,’ and so returned, relieved in mind, to his duties.  But the next mail bringing letters from Peru brought news of his Peruvian brother’s death on the night of the vision in the verandah.

This, of course, is not offered as evidence.  For evidence we need Captain ——­’s account, his Hong Kong brother’s account, date of the dance, official date of the Peruvian brother’s death, and so on.  But the character of my informant indisposes me to disbelief.  The names of places are intentionally changed, but the places were as remote from each other as those given in the text.

We find ourselves able to understand the Master of Ravenswood’s cogitations after he saw the best wraith in fiction: 

’She died expressing her eager desire to see me.  Can it be, then—­can strong and earnest wishes, formed during the last agony of nature, survive its catastrophe, surmount the awful bounds of the spiritual world, and place before us its inhabitants in the hues and colouring of life?  And why was that manifested to the eye, which could not unfold its tale to the ear?’ (’Her withered lips moved fast, although no sound issued from them.’) ’And wherefore should a breach be made in the laws of nature, yet its purpose remain unknown?’

The Master’s reasonings are such as, in hearing similar anecdotes, must have occurred to Scott.  They no longer represent our views.  The death and apparition were coincidental almost to the minute:  it would be impossible to prove that life was utterly extinct, when Alice seemed to die, ’as the clock in the distant village tolled one, just before’ Ravenswood’s experience.  We do not, like him, postulate ’a breach in the laws of nature,’ only a possible example of a law.  The tale was not ’unfolded to the ear,’ as the telepathic impact only affected the sense of sight.

Here, perhaps, ought to follow a reply to certain scientific criticisms of the theory that telepathy, or the action of one distant mind, or brain, upon another, may be the cause of ‘coincidental hallucinations,’ whether among savage or civilised races.  But, not to delay the argument by controversy, the Reply to Objections has been relegated to the Appendix[18].