C. N. Williamson and A. M. Williamson

“ I almost jumped out of my chair at the sound of Joyce's name. It was another proof that the medium was genuine.
Robert's tone as he answered was more convinced than before, I thought. And the youth had died out of his eyes. They looked old.
“Do you want me to live all my life alone, now that I've lost you, June?” he asked.
“Darling, you are not alone!” answered the voice. “I'm always with you. I love you so much that I've chosen to stay near you, and be earth-bound, rather than lead my own life on the plane where I might be. I thought you would want me here. ”

“ Put Joyce Arnold out of your heart as well as your life, and talk to me every day in future. Will you do that?”
“How am I to talk to you every day?” he asked.
“As we are talking now. Through a medium. This one will not always be near you. But there will be somebody. I've often tried to get word through to you. I never could, because you wouldn't believe. Now you believe, and we need not be parted again. You know the way to open the door. It is never shut. It stands ajar. Remember!”
“I will remember,” Robert echoed. ”

“ Robert and looked at each other, as this perfume rushed to meet us. La France roses were June's favorites, and belonged to the month of her birth. Robert had sent them to her often, especially when they were out of season and difficult to get.
“She is here, waiting for us!” exclaimed Miss Reardon. “Oh, surely you must see her on the sofa, with her feet crossed and such pretty diamond buckles on her shoes! Her lap is full of roses. She holds up one rose. She kisses it, to you—Robert—Robert—some name that begins with L. I can't hear it clearly. But Robert is enough.” ”