As for the book, my
father, perceiving my great dislike of mysticism, had always shrunk
from showing me any effusion of his that was not of a simply
antiquarian kind. In Switzerland, however, after his death, while
waiting for the embalmer to finish his work, I had become, during a
few days' reading, acquainted with _The Veiled Queen_. It was a new
edition containing an 'added chapter,' full of subtle spiritualistic
symbols. Amid what had seemed to me mere mystical jargon about the
veil of Isis being uplifted, not by Man's reason, not by such
researches as those of Darwin, Huxley, Spencer, and the continental
evolutionists, but by Faith and Love, I had come across passages of
burning eloquence.
'I am sorry to say,' I replied, 'that my Gypsy wanderings are again
answerable for my shortcomings. I have not yet seen your picture.
When I do see it I--'
'Not seen "Faith and Love" and the equally wonderful predella at the
foot of it!' he exclaimed incredulously. 'Ah, but you have been
living among the Gypsies. It is the greatest picture of the modern
world; for, Mr.
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