“You think so?” Mr. Delancy looked at his young companion curiously.

“Yes, I think so.”

The old man shook his head.  “Ingenious, but not satisfactory.”

“You will admit,” said Rose, “that as to our minds we may be present in any part of the world, and in an instant of time, though our bodies move not.”

“Our thought may be,” replied Mr. Delancy.  “Or, in better words, the eyes of our minds may be; for it is the eyes that see objects,” said Rose.

“Well; say the eyes of our minds, then.”

“We cannot see objects in London, for instance, with our bodily eyes unless our bodies be in London?” resumed Rose.

“Of course not.”

“Nor with our mental eyes, unless our spirits be there.”

Mr. Delancy looked down thoughtfully.

“It must be true, then, that our thought of any one brings us present to that individual, and that such presence is often recognized.”

“That is pushing the argument too far.”

“I think not.  Has it not often happened that suddenly the thought of an absent one came into your mind, and that you saw him or her for a moment or two almost as distinctly as if in bodily presence before you?”

“Yes.  That has many times been the case.”

“And you had not been thinking of that person, nor had there been any incident as a reminder?”

“I believe not.”

“My explanation is, that this person from some cause had been led to think of you intently, and so came to you in spirit.  There was actual presence, and you saw each other with the eyes of your minds.”

“But, my wise reasoner,” said Mr. Delancy, “it was the bodily form—­with face, eyes, hands, feet and material garments—­that was seen, not the spirit.  If our spirits have eyes that see, why they can only see spiritual things.”

“Has not a spirit a face, and hands, and feet?” asked Rose, with a confidence that caused the old man to look at her almost wonderingly.

“Not a face, and hands, and feet like these of mine,” he answered.

“Yes, like them,” she replied, “but of spiritual substance.”

“Spiritual substance!  That is a novel term.  This is substance.”  And Mr. Delancy grasped the arm of a chair.

“No, that is material and unsubstantial,” she calmly replied; “it is subject to change and decay.  A hundred years from now and there may be no visible sign that it had ever been.  But the soul is imperishable and immortal; the only thing about man that is really substantial.  And now,” she added, “for the faces of our spirits.  What gives to our natural faces their form, beauty and expression?  Is it not the soul-face within?  Remove that by death, and all life, thought and feeling are gone from the stolid effigy.  And so you see, Mr. Delancy, that our minds must be formed of spiritual substance, and that our bodies are but the outward material clothing which the soul puts on for action and use in this world of nature.”