I became my original
self, and bent my steps eagerly homeward- but the past had not lost
the vividness of the real- and not now, even for an instant, can I
compel my understanding to regard it as a dream."
"Nor was it," said Templeton, with an air of deep solemnity, "yet it
would be difficult to say how otherwise it should be termed. Let us
suppose only, that the soul of the man of to-day is upon the verge
of some stupendous psychal discoveries. Let us content ourselves
with this supposition. For the rest I have some explanation to make.
Here is a watercolor drawing, which I should have shown you before,
but which an unaccountable sentiment of horror has hitherto
prevented me from showing."
We looked at the picture which he presented. I saw nothing in it
of an extraordinary character, but its effect upon Bedloe was
prodigious. He nearly fainted as he gazed. And yet it was but a
miniature portrait- a miraculously accurate one, to be sure- of his
own very remarkable features. At least this was my thought as I
regarded it.
"You will perceive," said Templeton, "the date of this picture- it
is here, scarcely visible, in this corner- 1780. In this year was
the portrait taken. It is the likeness of a dead friend- a Mr.
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