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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34250-8.txt b/34250-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3df0ad4 --- /dev/null +++ b/34250-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8985 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Victor Ollnee's Discipline, by Hamlin Garland + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Victor Ollnee's Discipline + +Author: Hamlin Garland + +Release Date: November 8, 2010 [EBook #34250] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTOR OLLNEE'S DISCIPLINE *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + VICTOR OLLNEE'S DISCIPLINE + + BY HAMLIN GARLAND + + AUTHOR OF "THE CAPTAIN OF THE GRAY-HOUSE TROOP" + "MAIN-TRAVELLED ROADS" ETC. + + + HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS + NEW YORK AND LONDON + MCMXI + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I. VICTOR READS THE FATEFUL STAR + +II. VICTOR INTERROGATES HIS MOTHER + +III. VICTOR MAKES A TEST + +IV. VICTOR THROWS DOWN THE ALTAR + +V. VICTOR RECEIVES A WARNING + +VI. VICTOR IS CHECKED IN HIS FLIGHT + +VII. THE RETURN OF THE SPIRIT + +VIII. VICTOR REPAIRS HIS MOTHER'S ALTAR + +IX. THE LAW'S DELAY + +X. A VISIT TO HAZEL GROVE + +XI. LOVE'S TRANSLATION + +XII. A MOONLIGHT CALL AND A VISION + +XIII. VICTOR TESTS HIS THEORY + +XIV. THE ORDEAL + +XV. THE RING + +XVI. CONCLUSION + + + + +VICTOR OLLNEE'S DISCIPLINE + + + + +I + +VICTOR READS THE FATEFUL STAR + + +Saturday had been a strenuous day for the baseball team of Winona +University, and Victor Ollnee, its redoubtable catcher, slept late. +Breakfast at the Beta Kappa Fraternity House on Sunday started without +him, and Gilbert Frenson, who never played ball or tennis, and Arnold +Macey, who was too effeminate to swing a bat, divided the Sunday morning +_Star_ between them. + +"See here, Gil," called Macey, holding up an illustrated page, "do you +suppose this woman is any relation to Vic?" + +Frenson took the paper and glanced at it casually. It contained a +full-page lurid article, printed in two colors, with the picture of a +tall, serpentine, heavy-eyed, yet beautiful woman, whose long arms +(ending in claws) reached for the heart of a sleeping man. "What is it +all about?" asked Frenson, as his eyes roamed over the text. + +"It seems to be an attack on a medium named Ollnee who pretends to be +able to bring the dead to life. According to this article, she's the +limit as a fraud. You don't suppose--Ollnee is an unusual name--" + +"Oh, not so very. I suppose it's another way of spelling Olney. I don't +see any reason to connect old Vic with any such woman as that." + +"No, only he's always been kind of secretive about his folks. You'll +admit that. Why, we don't even know where he came from! Nobody does, +unless you do." + +Frensen dipped into the article. "Wow! this _is_ a hot one! Lucile has a +case for libel all right--unless the reporter happens to be telling the +truth." + +"Hello, Vic!" he shouted, as a tall, broad-shouldered, but rather lean +young fellow entered the room. "Vic, you are discovered!" + +"What's the excitement?" asked the newcomer. + +"Here's an article in the Sunday paper you should see. It's all about a +woman namesake of yours, a medium named Lucile Ollnee. The name is +spelled exactly like yours. Say, old man, I didn't know you were the son +of an 'infamous faker.' Why didn't you let us know." His tone was +comic. + +Young Ollnee took the paper quietly, but, as he read, a look of +bewilderment came upon his face. + +"How about it, Vic?" repeated Macey. "You seem to be hard hit. Is she an +aunt or a sister?" + +Rising abruptly, Victor left the room, taking the paper with him. + +Macey uttered a word of astonishment, but Frensen, after a pause, said, +soberly, "There's something doing here, Sissy. He didn't act a bit +funny; but it's up to us to keep quiet till we know just where we stand. +If that woman _is_ related to Vic he's going to be fighting mad. I guess +I'd better go up and see how he's taking it. He certainly did seem +jolted." He turned to utter a warning. "Don't say anything to the other +fellows till I come back." + +Macey promised, and Frenson went up the stairs and into the little study +which he and Victor shared in common. The windows were open and the +bird-songs and the fragrance of a glorious May morning flooded the room +with joy, but in the midst of its radiance young Ollnee sat, bent above +the fateful printed page. + +As Frenson entered he raised his head. "Have you read this thing, +Frens?" he asked, tremulously. + +"Part of it." + +"Frens, Lucy Ollnee is my mother. This article is full of lies, but it's +based on facts. I'd like to kill the man that wrote it," he added, +savagely. + +"Let me look at it again," said Frenson. + +Victor handed the paper to him and sat in silence while Frenson went +over the article with studious care. It was an exceedingly able and +bitter presentation of the opposition side. It left no excuse, no +palliation for a career such as that of Lucile Ollnee. + +"She is fraudulent from beginning to end," the writer passionately +declared. "From her heart outward she is as vile, as remorseless, as +mysterious as a vampire. No one knows from what foul nest she sprang. +She battens upon the sick, the world-weary, the sorrowing. Her +hokus-pokus is so simple that it would deceive no one but those who are +blinded by their own tears. She has just one human trait. She is said to +be educating a son at an Eastern university on the profits of her vile +trade. It is said that she is keeping him in ignorance of her way of +life." + +Frenson looked up at his friend. "Vic, what do you know of this +business?" + +"Almost nothing. I don't know very much of even my mother's relations. +The first that I can remember is our home in La Crescent. My father's +name was Paul Ollnee, but I can't remember him. He died before I was +three years old. We left La Crescent when I was about eight and went to +the city. I can't remember very much previous to that time, but after we +moved to the city I know my mother set up her 'ghost-room' again." + +"Ghost-room?" + +"Yes, that's what I called it. I can't remember when there was not a +'ghost-room' in our house. As far back as when I was five years old we +had it, and I was just getting old enough to wonder about it when we +moved to the city." + +"What kind of a den was this ghost-room?" + +"It looked like any other bright and pretty room, but I never got more +than a glimpse of it, for I was afraid of it. There was nice paper on +the wall, I remember, and a desk with books, and there were some tall +tin horns standing in the corner. Oh yes, and always an old walnut +table. There's something queer about that. I don't understand why my +mother should have taken that table down to the city with her, but she +did. It was just an old, battered-up walnut stand, and yet she seemed to +think the world of it. She put it in the center of her room in the city +just as she used to have it in our old home. Oh, how I hated that room! +There was something uncanny about it. There was always a string of +strange men and women going into it with my mother, and I was always +sent away to play when they came. Oh, Gil"--his voice broke--"she is a +medium, but she's not the awful creature they make her out." + +"Of course not. We all know how these things go." + +"You see, I went away to boarding-school when I was ten. This paper +says I was sent away to keep me clear of the business that went on at +home. I'm not sure but that is true, for I've seen very little of my +mother's home life since." + +"Didn't you visit her during vacations?" + +"No, she always came to see me, and we took trips here and there. We'd +go East, or to Colorado somewhere. Oh, we've had such splendid times +together, Gil. She brought me presents and sent me money--" He looked +out of the window for a few moments before he could go on. "And now--The +other fellows will see that article, of course." + +"Yes, the whole town will be reading it in an hour. However, they may +not connect you with it." + +"Oh yes, they will, and they'll believe every word of it, and they'll +understand that I am Lucy Ollnee's son. This finishes me, Gil. Everybody +will think I _knew_ how my mother earned her money, and they'll despise +me for taking it." He rose in an agony of shame. "I might as well be at +the bottom of the lake." + +"Don't take it so hard, old man. You're a big favorite here," said +Frenson, with intent to offer consolation. "The work you've done on the +team will go a long ways toward carrying you through this thing. Brace +up; all is not lost." + +The stricken youth was not listening. "Just think, Gil, she's been doing +all this for me! I knew she claimed to have messages, but I didn't know +that I was living on money earned in that way. You see, we own some +houses in La Crescent, and I just took it for granted that our living +came from them." He was white with pain now. "This ends my career here. +I've got to get out, and do it quick. I'll be the laughing stock of the +whole town by noon." + +Frenson, deeply sympathetic, did his best to minimize the effect of the +disclosure, but with Victor's corroboration of the reporter's charges, +he was forced to admit that Mrs. Ollnee was either an imposter or a +woman of unsound mind. Little by little he drew from the stricken youth +other interesting details. + +"I remember having a fight with a city boy by the name of Barker," said +Victor, "because he yelled at me 'sonova medium' till I stopped his +mouth with my fist. It seems to me as if it were the very next day that +my mother took me to Mirror Lake and put me in a boarding-school. That +fight must have influenced her. Perhaps up to that moment our neighbors +had let us alone. I can understand now why she always visited me and why +she never offered to take me to the city." + +He did not say that this very aloofness had made of her, to him, a +serene and lofty figure, but so it was. She had come to him out of the +unknown distance, a mysterious queen of the fairies, with something very +sad and very sweet in her face and something very appealing in her +voice. There was nothing commonplace, nothing associated with toil or +worry in his memory of her. Her broad, full brow, her deep-blue eyes, +and her frail little body put her apart from other women. As he dwelt +now on her dignity, her loving care, his heart grew strong with +resolution. "Gilbert," he called, suddenly, "I'm going down there and +defend her from those beasts." + +Frenson was not surprised. "I reckon that's your little stunt," he +retorted, student-fashion, but he was very much in earnest, +nevertheless. "I'm wondering what old Boyden will say." + +Victor believed in Professor Boyden and honored him, but at the moment +the thought of facing him was painful. Boyden was one of those who +tested the human soul with the electric bell, the clock, and the +spymograph. Delusions were among his hobbies. Hysteria was a great word +with him. Man lived among appearances. Personality was not a unit, but +an aggregate, liable to disassociation, and the hysterical girl was +capable of deceiving the very elect. To him, mediumship was merely the +sign of immorality or epilepsy. + +A part of this disrupting philosophy had entered Victor's head, and as +he slowly and minutely re-read that cruel newspaper analysis of his +sweet and gentle mother he was startled, but a little comforted by the +thought that she might be the victim of her subconscious self, "She +can't mean to cheat. Of that I am certain. But she needs me just the +same. I'm going to earn her living and mine in some honest way." + +Two or three of his most intimate friends came up after breakfast and +started in to chaff, but, being far past the stage of evasion, Victor +frankly confessed his relationship to the medium and hotly defended her, +ending by mournfully, declaring his intention of leaving school at once +and forever. + +Thereupon, his visitors also became very serious, perceiving the tumult +of doubt and despair into which he had been thrown, and one by one they +fell into awkward silence and slipped away, leaving him alone with +Frenson, who had been giving the most careful thought to the whole +situation. + +"Of course the fellow who wrote this article had his own private grouch. +Any one can see that. And your friends are not going to condemn your +mother on what he says. But all the same, you're wound up pretty tight, +Vic; there's no two ways about that. According to your own statement she +does claim to hear voices, and she does claim to give messages from the +dead. Now, I'm not saying all this is impossible, but you know as well +as I do that Boyden and his kind say 'Nitsky' to the whole business." + +"I don't care what she's done," retorted Victor; "she has stood by me +like a brick all these years, and now it's up to me to do something for +her when she's in trouble." + +Frenson admitted that this was a human and righteous resolution on the +part of his chum and offered to help in any possible way. + +Victor, too full of grief and despair to think clearly, went about his +packing with swollen throat. There was keen pain in the thought of +abandoning this bright room, of discarding all his trophies, books, and +pictures, but this he did, putting nothing into his trunk but his +clothing and a few photographs of his dearest girl friends. "What's the +use?" he said to Frenson. "It's me to the spade or the ice-tongs, now. I +won't need these things any more. It's battle in the arena of trade for +Vic from this time on." + +Frenson looked around at the little library. "Well, I'll hold them +together for a while. Maybe you'll be able to come back and graduate, +after all." + +"Never! Don't you see I can't take another cent of my mother's money now +that I know how it's earned?" + +Frenson listened unexcitedly. "Well, now, suppose these voices should +turn out to be real? Suppose these messages have been from the dead?" + +"It wouldn't make any difference." + +"Oh yes, it would. At least it would to me. Scientific men have been +against a whole lot of things in the past that turned out to be true. +Natural selection, for instance, and X-rays and the wireless telephone." + +"I see your drift, Gil. You want to be a comfort to me, but I've been +digging down into my memory, and I know now that my mother has been +trained into these habits, these delusions, for over twenty years. It +won't be an easy thing to get her out of them. She is as much deceived +as the rest. I am sure of that." + +"Well, why don't you experiment with her? Make a test," suggested +Frenson. + +"Would you experiment with your own mother?" asked Victor. + +"I'd make a case out of my grandmother if as much hinged on her as +swings on this question of your mother's honesty. You can't blink these +charges, Vic, they'll have to be met if she remains in the city." + +Victor sat in silence for a few moments, then broke out again. "Gil, I +begin to understand a hundred things that have always seemed queer to +me. She has kept me away from her because she _knew_ I would not +sanction her way of earning money. Why, I haven't slept in her house but +once since I was ten years old, and that was just before I entered here. +I hated where she lived; it was a ratty little hole down on the south +side, and the people with her were sloppy Sals. I refused to stay a +second night. I can see it all now. She was living there in that way to +save money for me, to keep me here. She wanted me to have just as good +a chance as any of the rest of you. This room, the clothes I have on, my +trinkets, everything came from her, and now there's no telling what may +happen to her. That article threatens all kinds of persecution. I ought +to be there this minute. I must take the very next train." + +"I guess you're right there, old man. It's likely to be a pretty +exciting day for her. This article is apt to bring all kinds of trouble +to her as well as to you." + +The news that Victor Ollnee was the son of a notorious medium ran +rapidly among his classmates, and while they honored him and prized his +skill on the team, they felt a certain resentment toward him. Some of +them thought he had not been quite honest with them, and a violent +controversy was thundering in the dining-room as Frenson re-entered it +at one o'clock. He took Victor's part, of course. "He can't help what +his mother's done," he argued. "He didn't choose his mother. Why slam +into Vic?" + +"We aren't slamming into him. We're sorry for him," responded one of the +fellows. + +"But we don't see how we can afford to have him in the frat," said +another. "He's a ripping good fellow and a wonder at the bat, but what +can we do? He should have told us about himself. The paper here says +that his mother makes a living by cheating people, by tapping spirit +wires and blowing horns and hearing voices in the dark: and all that +shady business is sure to reflect on us. He's a marked man which ever +way you look at it. You'll see everybody rubber-necking over our fence +to-day. They've begun it already." + +"That's so," agreed a third man. "Why didn't he tell us the truth before +we voted him in here?" + +Frenson explained. "He's been telling me all about it. He says he didn't +know his mother was earning her money that way." + +"That's the part that looks queer to us," accused the opposition. "How +could he help knowing it? Looks to us as if he'd been covering it up all +along. This writer says the woman is a regular 'battle-ax.'" + +The current was setting strongly against Victor, and Frenson, seeing +this, rose to go. "Well, there's no need of taking action. Poor Vic is +heart-broken over the whole business and is leaving on the three-o'clock +train." + +This silenced even his critics. They began to remember what a jolly good +fellow he was, and how important his work in "the diamond" had been. It +was all very sad business, and they relented. "We don't want to be hard +on him," they said. + +Frenson went up to Victor. "See here, Captain, you must be hungry. I'll +push a tray for you if you don't feel like going down among those +'Indians.' I'll have to be honest with you. They're all up in the air +down there and howling something fierce. I reckon I'd better hustle a +turkey-leg for you." + +"I wish you would, Gil. I can't bear to see any one but you. If I can, I +want to sneak out and get to the train without catching anybody's eye. +All I need now is to kill that reporter. He has smashed my world, sure +thing, and I may find my poor little mother crushed under it, too." He +tore the paper into little bits, snarling through his set teeth. "The +fellows may believe what they please. I've done with them all. They're +all against me but you, I can see that." + +Frenson got out his pipe and filled it while his partner raged up and +down the room. At last he said: "Now, Vickie, when you get calmed down +you just remember that you've a lot of mighty good friends up here. +There'll be dozens of them that this thing won't change a little bit. +They'll talk, but they'll be sympathetic." + +Victor's wrath burned itself out at last, and he consented to Frenson's +bringing the tray of food. But he declined to go down-stairs till the +time came to start for the train. + +As they were crossing the hall they met little Macey, who, with a +startled look in his eyes, intercepted Victor's passage. "I'm awfully +sorry, Vic," he began. "I wish I could do something for you." + +There was something so sincere and moving in his tone that Victor's +stern mood melted. His voice grew husky as he tried to jocularly reply. +"Never mind, Sissy, I'm down, but I'm not out. Good-by till next time." + +"That's the spirit," cheered Frenson from the doorway. + +Out on the walk a couple of the older fraternity men stood talking in +low voices (of Victor, of course), and as they fell apart one of them +had the grace to say: "Don't stay away too long, Vic. We'll need you +Saturday." + +Victor waved a hand. "I hope you'll be here when I return," he retorted; +but as he entered the hack (which Frenson had provided, as though he +were taking an invalid or a lady to the train) his composure utterly +gave way. "I could have stood it if the boys hadn't welched," he sobbed. +"But they did; you can't fool me. They threw me down hard." + +"Some of them did," admitted Frenson. "But they were the hollow ones. +The solid chaps are all right yet." + +"I can't blame them very much. If they believe all that stuff about my +mother and think that I knew it, why of course they're right in feeling +as they do." + +At the train the loyal Frenson said, "Well now, Vic, if you need help +any time you let me know and I'll come galloping." + +"That's real bold in you, Gil, and if I get where I can't see my way out +I'll shout." + +And so they parted--Victor with a feeling that their companionship was +ended forever, Gilbert with a sense of having failed of his intent to +comfort and sustain. + + + + +II + +VICTOR INTERROGATES HIS MOTHER + + +Once on the train, with the towers of the university building out of +sight, Victor's mind went forward toward the great city whereto he was +now hurrying in the spirit of one about to enter a tiger-haunted jungle. +Hitherto he had been unafraid of its tumult, for there his mother lived. +Her home, vague of outline as it was, offered refuge from the thunder +and the shouting. But now its shelter was worse than useless, for its +lintel was marked with a sign of shame and terror, and this the law and +the lawless knew equally well. + +"How will she seem to me now," he asked himself. "What will she say to +me when we meet?" + +On one point he was sternly resolved. "She must leave the city at once. +We will go West somewhere. I will earn our living now." And at the +moment earning a living seemed easy. + +The close of a beautiful spring day was spreading over the town as he +made his way up the stairway into the unwonted silence of the +thoroughfare. The wind was from the east, clean and cool and sweet. As +he looked down at the river from the bridge and marked its water flowing +swiftly from the lake toward the splendid sunset sky he exulted over the +power of man, of science, to reverse the natural current of a stream. +"So must I change the whole course of my mother's life," he thought with +returning resolution. "It must be done. It can be done. It's all in the +will." + +The hit-or-miss squalor of California Avenue filled him with renewed and +augmented disgust as he descended from the car at the corner and began +his search for his mother's apartment, which was the top story of a +shabby wooden building standing between two shops. The stairway reeked +with associations of poverty, a shifty poverty, and Victor's gorge rose +at it. The second flight, though cleaner, was musty with decaying wood, +and the doorway--on which a dim card was tacked--sadly needed paint. He +began to realize sharply the sacrifices which had enabled him to live in +the care-free comfort of his chapter-house, and his heart softened. + +After knocking twice without obtaining a response he tried the knob. It +yielded and he went in. All was silent and dim. For an instant he +hesitated. "Perhaps I'm in the wrong pew after all," he thought; but as +he looked about him he recognized the ghost-room furniture of his +boyhood. On the wall was a familiar picture--the crayon portrait of a +black-whiskered man. The same old battered walnut table which he +remembered so well occupied one corner, and behind it three long tin +cones stood upright on their larger ends. He shivered with disgust at +them and turned to the lounge, over which, scattered as if by a gale of +wind, lay the leaves of the hated Sunday edition of the _Star_. All else +was neat and tidy, though threadbare with use. It was, indeed, very far +from being "the gilded den of vice" which the reporter had depicted. + +Oppressed by the silence, Victor called out, "Mother, are you here?" + +He thought he heard a voice, a husky whisper, say, "_Go to her_"; and, a +little surprised by this, he stepped to the door of the bedroom and +peered in. There, sitting in an arm-chair, half hid in the gloaming, sat +his mother with closed eyes and a gray-white face. + +"Mother, are you sick?" he cried out, starting toward her. + +Again the whisper in the air close to his ear commanded him: "_Stay +where you are. Do not touch her._" + +"Mother, don't you know me? It is Victor." + +The whisper answered: "_Your mother is resting. We are treating her. Be +patient; she will awaken soon._" + +For a moment Victor's heart failed him, so impressive was this whisper, +issuing apparently from the empty air. Then a flood of rage swept over +him. This Voice was one of the tricks charged against her by the paper. +"Mother, stop that! I won't have it. Do you hear me? Stop it, I say!" + +The sleeper stirred and her eyes opened, but no sign of recognition was +in them. Slowly her stiffened hands withdrew from the arms of her chair +and clasped themselves in her lap. Her cheeks, puffed and pallid, were +rigid and her eyes, turned upward and inward, gleamed coldly. The lids +were half-closed. She had a horribly unfamiliar, tortured look, and he +started toward her, calling upon her in a voice of anxiety. "Mother, +what is the matter? Don't you hear me?" + +At last she opened her eyes and a thrill of relief ran through him as he +caught a gleam of recognition there. She lifted her hands feebly, +whispering, "My boy, my precious boy!" + +Kneeling by her side, he waited for her consciousness to come back. Her +hands, so cold and nerveless, grew warmer, her lips smiled wearily, yet +with divine maternal tenderness, and at last she spoke. "My big, +splendid boy! I knew you would not desert me. I knew it; I knew it. I +prayed for you." + +"I came by the very first train," he answered, "and I am here to defend +you." + +A loud knocking at the door startled her and she clasped his hand +tightly as she whispered: "That is another of my enemies. All day they +have been coming. Send them away." + +He put her hands down and rose tensely. "I'll smash their faces," he +hotly declared. + +"Don't be rash, Victor, please." + +He strode to the door and opened it. A dark, handsome young woman and a +grinning youth stood without. They were both a little dashed by Victor's +appearance as he queried, with scowling brow, "What do you want?" + +The man replied, "We came to have a sitting." + +Victor exploded. "Get out," he shouted. "If you come back here again +I'll throw you down the stairs." Thereupon he slammed the door in their +faces and returned to his mother. + +"We've got to get away from here," he said as he came to her. "We can't +stay here another day." + +"That must be as my guide, your grandfather, says," she replied. + +"There's no use talking like that to me, mother. You've got to stop this +business. I won't have any more of it. It's shameful, and I won't have +it." + +She answered, gently: "I'm under orders, Victor. I can do nothing in +opposition to The Voices." + +He bent over her with knitted brow. "See here, mother, I want you to +understand that this medium business has got to be cut out. Look what it +has let you in for! I don't believe in your Voices, and you must--" + +She stopped him. "My son, if you do not believe in The Voices you +cannot believe in me. They are real. If they were not, I should go mad. +They are in my ears all day long. My comfort is that they are not +imaginary. Others hear them, and that proves to me that they are not an +illusion. If you listen they will speak to you." + +"I don't want them to speak to me. I want you to pack up--" + +"Hark!" she commanded. "They are speaking now." + +As he listened, the same measured whisper which he had heard upon +entering the house made itself distinctly heard, apparently in the air, +a little higher than his mother's head. "_Boy, trust in us!_" + +Victor glanced at his mother's lips. He could not help it; base as it +seemed, he suspected her of ventriloquism. "Who are you?" he asked. + +"_Your grandsire, Nelson Blodgett._" + +This reply, apparently without his mother's agency, was uttered in so +plain a tone that Victor's hair rose. He opened and peered into a little +closet which stood behind his mother's chair. It was empty, and as he +came slowly back and stood looking down into her face a low, breathy +chuckle sounded in his ear. + +"_A smart lad. Needs discipline._" + +A flush of rage passed over him, leaving him cold. He studied his mother +in silence, convinced that she was cunningly playing upon his fears. As +he pondered she said, quietly: "I'm glad you came, Victor. You fill my +heart with joy; but you must not stay. I do not need you. You must go +back to your studies." + +"That I cannot do." + +"Oh, Victor, you must! I want you to graduate. Father insists on it." + +"I tell you it is impossible. Do you suppose I'm going back there where +all the fellows are laughing at me? Why, they're talking of throwing me +out of the club! More than that, I can't take another cent of your +money. If I had known how you were earning your living I would never +have entered the university at all." + +"Oh, my boy, do you doubt me? Do you believe what they say against me?" + +This brought him face to face with the whole problem. "Of course I don't +believe that you cheat--purposely--but I do think you are abnormal. You +can't expect me to believe that a voice can come out of the air like +that. It's impossible! It's against all reason, and yet--" + +At this moment another knock, a gentler signal, sounded at the door, and +the youth, relieved by the interruption, flared out at the unknown +intruder. "Go away," he shouted. + +"No, no; these are friends," his mother asserted, and rose to let them +in. + +Victor caught her by the arm. "What are you going to do?" + +"Open the door. It is one of my dearest friends." + +"You must not give a sitting. I won't have it." + +The knock was repeated and she hurried away, leaving the boy confused, +angry, and helpless. + +She returned, accompanied by two women. The first of them was a +diminutive, gray-haired lady, with a frank and smiling face, whose dress +proclaimed a prosperous and happy station in life. Her companion was a +tall young girl, whose spring suit, quiet in color and exquisitely +tailored, became her notably. The youth thought, "What a stylish girl!" +And the sight of her calmed him instantly. + +"Victor," said his mother, and her tone was one of relief, "these are my +dearest friends, Mrs. Joyce and Leonora Wood, her niece." + +Victor bowed without speaking, for the heart of battle was still in him. + +Mrs. Joyce cried out: "What a fine, big fellow! I didn't expect such a +stalwart son." + +"Please be seated," said Mrs. Ollnee. "My son has just arrived. He saw +that dreadful article in the paper and came to defend me." + +"That was fine of you," exclaimed Mrs. Joyce to Victor. "That same +article brought us. I would have been here before only we don't take the +_Star_, and I did not see the article until about an hour ago." + +Mrs. Ollnee took up her explanation. "But, Louise, Victor says he will +not go back to college." + +Mrs. Joyce was quick to apprehend the situation. "I suppose that +outrageous article made it appear necessary for you to defend both your +mother and yourself," she said, searchingly. + +Victor was not disposed to gloze matters in the least. "It made a fool +of me," he responded, bitterly. "It made it impossible for me to look my +friends in the face. How could I convince them that I was not sharing in +the profits of my mother's business? I told them I didn't know where my +allowance came from, but of course no one believed me. I know now, and I +despise the whole business. I've come down here to take my mother out of +it." + +The three women looked at one another sympathetically. Mrs. Joyce, who +knew Mrs. Ollnee's history intimately, only smiled as she answered: "I +don't see that you need to feel ashamed of your mother's profession. A +medium is one of the most precious instruments in this world. She brings +solace to many a sorrowing heart. Why is her work less honorable than +singing, for example? Furthermore, no one is obliged to come to her. We +sit of our own choice, and if we are not pleased we can refuse to pay, +and we need not return. So you see it is a free contract, after all." + +Her reasoning staggered Victor. He was confused also by her frank and +charming manner. He perceived that his problem was not so simple as he +had imagined. Hitherto, his life had been single-hearted, with nothing +more difficult to decide than a question of moral philosophy; but here, +now, he stood confronted by an entirely baffling entanglement of human +wills. This woman, so evidently of the higher world of wealth and +culture, accepted his mother's claims, and this profoundly impressed +him. + +Mrs. Joyce continued. "Don't take this newspaper attack too seriously, +Mr. Ollnee. It was meant to be nasty, and it _is_ nasty; but it is not +fatal. It is a cloud that will soon blow over and leave you and your +mother unharmed." + +"It will never blow over for me," he replied, passionately, "and you +must not include me in this thing. I've lived a long way from it thus +far, and I don't intend to mix up with this kind of hokus-pokus." + +"Victor," called his mother, warningly. + +He corrected himself. "Of course I don't accuse you of wilfully +deceiving anybody. I'm willing to grant that you _think_ these Voices +are real; but my teacher, Doctor Boyden, says that mediumship is only a +kind of hysteria--" + +Mrs. Joyce laughed. "Yes, I've read Doctor Boyden's books. What does he +know about it? Did he ever study a wonderful psychic like your mother? +Has he candidly examined these phenomena? Never in his life! I know all +about that kind of investigator. He is basing his conclusions on +somebody's else's conjectures or prejudices." + +Victor defended his master. "He has tried to experiment. He's offered +prizes for mediums to meet him, but they have refused. Not one would sit +with him." + +"Why should they? Would you have your mother seek him out to convince +him? Why doesn't he come to her. There he sits in his chair, pretending +to say that these phenomena are impossible, whereas I know, from many +personal tests, that these voices are not merely real, but that they +come from my dear ones on the other side and that they sustain and +comfort me." + +Victor was silenced, and his discomfiture was made the more complete by +the smiling gaze of the young girl, who was evidently enjoying his +perplexity. Nevertheless, though he did not continue the argument, he +held to his opinion that they were all victims of his mother's +unconscious necromancy. + +Mrs. Joyce continued. "You say you know nothing about it. Why not find +out something about it? Here is your mother. Study her." + +"Why don't we have a sitting now?" exclaimed Miss Wood. "It would be fun +to see his face when the horns began to dance about." + +Mrs. Ollnee looked a little worried. "Not now, Leo, I'm too upset. It's +been a terrible day for me. I haven't eaten a thing." + +Mrs. Joyce rose. "You poor dear! Let's go get something. Come this +instant. You'll go, Mr. Ollnee." + +His first impulse was to refuse, but as he studied his mother's pale +face and thought of the good effect of the outside air he relented. +"Yes, I'll go," he replied, ungraciously. + +Miss Wood came over to him and tried to soften his mood. "I know how you +feel about all this, and I know how brutal a scientific sharp can be. My +professors were all against it. Just the same, it's a wonderful old +world; a good deal more wonderful than some of our teachers admit." + +He did not reply to this, but stood watching his mother as she put on +her hat and wrap. Her whole expression had changed. Her face had lighted +up and her delicacy of feature and small, graceful hands denoted to him +as never before the woman of natural refinement and intelligence. It was +hard to consider her at the moment the victim of a brain disorder, and +yet-- + +Mrs. Joyce led the way down the creaking stairs, and Victor, following +in sullen silence, was surprised and a little daunted to find a +luxurious automobile waiting for them. He rebelled at the curb. "You go +on without me," he said, harshly. "I'll stay here till you come back." + +"Oh no," exclaimed Mrs. Joyce. "Please come with us. Your mother will +not be happy without you." + +Miss Wood remarked, humorously, "Never refuse a dinner or a ride in a +motor-car; that's my motto." + +His mother timidly lifted her face. "Victor, Mrs. Joyce is my most loyal +friend. I owe her more than you know. I _wish_ you would come." + +He yielded with a sense of stepping down, but as he found himself seated +beside Miss Wood and whirring swiftly up the street his inflexible +attitude softened. "For this one night I will follow; after that I +lead," he promised himself. + +The girl mocked him with subtle intonation. "I am glad of any mystery +and romance which remains in this old world, and I never quarrel with +fate. If any one is disposed to exchange an autocar ride for so +intangible a thing as a voice, I trade." + +A little later she reverted to his problem. "What right have you to pass +judgment on your mother without examining her? I was just as skeptical +as you are when I met her first, but she _forced_ me to believe. I am +perfectly certain that she would upset Doctor Boyden. If he would come +down quietly and sit with her she'd convince even him. She is a very +dear little woman, and we all love her." + +Mrs. Joyce leaned over and spoke in his ear. "It is only through devoted +beings like your mother that the bereaved are assured of life +everlasting. She doesn't _tell_ me that my son is living beyond the +veil; _she brings him to me_. I hear his voice and touch his hand." + +To this sort of thing he was forced to listen during their course down +the shining avenue, and it made the whole city as unreal as a dream. +When they rolled up to the wide portals of a towering hotel a new +anxiety presented itself. "Suppose mother should be recognized as we +enter? Suppose they arrest her here." + +A realization of his own poverty and youth and general helplessness came +over him with crushing effect as he trod the hall, which seemed very +vast and splendid in his eyes. He was subdued, too, by the thought that +he had not silver enough in his pocket to fee the girl who took their +wraps. His resolution to fight, to earn not only his own living but to +rescue his mother, became fainter each moment. "Can it be that yesterday +I was behind the bat?" he asked himself. "Surely I must be dreaming." + +He perceived another side to his mother's character. She seemed quite at +ease amid all this splendor, and accepted whatever Mrs. Joyce did for +her as something quite definitely her due. + +There was no indication of the Sabbath in the gorgeous dining-room, and +nothing to show that sorrow or poverty existed in the world; and seeing +his mother's face flushed with pleasure, the perplexed youth relented a +little further. "This one night she may have, but it must be the last of +such entertainment on such terms." + +There was in him beneath all this antagonism a kind of dignity and manly +strength which pleased Mrs. Joyce. She was glad to see him lighten up, +and she exerted herself to that end. "There now," she said, looking +about the room. "Let's forget all of our troubles. Let us suppose that +all our friends 'on the other side' are at dinner also." + +Victor sat in silence what time his mother decided whether she would +have asparagus soup or consommé. It was his first experience with that +degree of wealth which takes no thought of price, and glancing at the +figures on the bill of fare his hair rose. Never in his life had he +eaten a meal which cost as much as this one order of soup, and the fact +that his mother gaily ordered the best indicated to him how deeply +indebted she already was to her patroness. "There must be some very +definite need which she supplies," he conceded, "or Mrs. Joyce would not +so gladly pay her bills." + +At the same time his respect and admiration for his mother returned. As +the dinner went on her cheeks glowed with faint color. Her years of +trouble seemed to slip away from her. She took on youthful grace and +charm, glancing often at her handsome son with eyes of maternal pride +and content. "It is so good to have you here," she silently expressed. +He had never seen this care-free side of her, and the gayer she grew the +more alien, in a sense, she became. She was instinctively the lady, of +that he was assured, and though she could not follow Miss Wood in all of +her flights of fancy and allusion, she plainly showed unusual powers of +appreciation. + +The talk also brought out the extraordinary intimacy of the three women. +It appeared that Mrs. Joyce and Mrs. Ollnee were inseparable, that she +often took his mother to the opera and to the theater, and as they +discussed various singers and actors, whose names alone he knew, his +sense of being suburban deepened. "Why does this vivid and cultured +woman seek my mother's society? For what reason does she lavish money +upon her? Is it because of her personal charm? No," he decided, "that +cannot be the reason." Beneath her cordial tone he thought he detected +the reserve of one who is being kind to a dependent. "She's being nice +to mother," he concluded, "because she thinks she's getting something +special from her. Mother is a freak, not a friend. She considers her a +kind of spiritual telephone." + +Although Miss Wood devoted herself to the task of amusing him, and his +face lost some of its gravest lines, yet he could not be denoted a +careless youth, even when the wine came on. He was thinking too deeply +to be outwardly ready of retort. It was too sudden a change from the +pastoral air and quiet streets of Winona to be instantly assimilated. He +remained sullen. + +His mother eyed him apprehensively but admiringly. "He looks like his +father," she whispered to Mrs. Joyce. + +He would have been inhuman had he not responded to certain charms in +Miss Wood. She had a fine profile, he admitted, finer than that of any +girl he knew. Her eyes, too, were a little disturbing by reason of the +small wrinkles of laughter at the corners, but she irritated him. She +was perfectly sure of herself. Nothing that he did or failed to do +affected her in any other way apparently than to deepen her amusement. +Her manner seemed to say, "Wait a few days and see what a fool you'll +find yourself out to be. You're nothing but a great big country lad, +trying to be a philosopher, trying to live up to a rigid code of morals. +It's all a pose, a ludicrous attitude of boyish defiance." + +She said nothing of this of course; on the contrary, she talked of +things in which he was interested, trying politely to meet him half way. +She was actually a year or two younger than he, but she gave off the air +of being five years older. She had explored immense tracts of human +life, or at least of social life, of which he had no knowledge, and this +came out in her casual references to New York and Paris. Her home was in +Los Angeles, but she was now staying with her aunt. + +He lost his sullen reserve. The soup, the wine, the bird, and the maid +softened his stern mood. By the time the coffee came on he was talking +almost boyishly with his hostess and his face had lost its troubled +lines. + +His perplexities came back as Mrs. Joyce passed two bills to the waiter +in payment for their dinner, and he watched from the corner of his eye +to see how much change came back. Two dollars! Eighteen dollars for four +dinners! "Great Scot!" he inwardly groaned. "It would take me a week to +earn our share of this meal!" And a returning sense of his mother's +subconscious iniquity reclad him with gloom. + +The ride back to California Avenue was less festive, for Mrs. Joyce took +occasion to say: "My advice is this. Return to college and obtain your +degree. I will take care of your dear little mother." + +"I can't do that," he said. "I've quit. There is no use talking about +that." + +"You shouldn't take this newspaper attack too seriously," remarked Miss +Wood. "Reporters are always exposing mediums. It is quite habitual with +them, and besides, your mother has been through it before." + +"Is that true?" he asked, with sharpened assault. + +"Yes," Mrs. Ollnee admitted. "I've been attacked in this way twice." + +"Since I have been grown up?" + +"Yes; once since you went to Winona." + +"I didn't know that. Why didn't you tell me?" + +Mrs. Joyce interposed. "What was the use? You could have done nothing. +We who understand these matters make allowances for the reporter's +trade. He must earn a living some way." + +As she said this Victor recalled the cynical close of the article. +"Probably the true-blue believer will condemn the detective and not the +culprit," the lines ran. "There are dupes so purblind, so infatuated +that nothing, not even the boldest chicanery can shake their faith; +nevertheless, a few will take this article for what it is, a full and +clear exposé of a shrewd and conscienceless trickster." And yet, as he +faced these intelligent women, Victor could not think of them as being +deceived by open chicanery, much less could he admit for a moment that +his mother was capable of resorting to it. + +It was a dramatic and moving experience for him to go from this +cushioned, splendid chariot back to the shabby little apartment which +was the only home in the wide world for either his mother or himself. He +was filled with a kind of rage at her, at fate, and at himself, and no +sooner were they inside the door than he turned upon her with a note of +resentful resolution in his voice. + +"Mother, how could you let me in for all of this? Why did you send me to +college, knowing that sooner or later exposure must come?" + +"I trusted the voices," she replied, "just as I must continue to trust +them in the future." + +"Now, mother," he rejoined with a certain foreboding grimness of +inflection, "we've got to get right down to brass tacks on that +business. I can't go on any longer in ignorance of who I am and what you +are. I want to know all about you and all about my father. Who was my +father? What was he? Did he believe in this thing?" + +Her eyes fell. "No, not while he was on this life's plane. Indeed, it +was my 'work' that--that separated us. He hated it and was very harsh +about it. But the first thing he did after he passed on was to come back +and tell me that I was right after all. He asked me to forgive him." + +"Is that his picture up there on the wall? What did he do for a living?" + +"He was a really fine mind, Victor; one of those men who might have been +eminent had they gone out into the world. He was a student and a +thinker, but he was not ambitious. He was content to be the principal of +a village school and live quietly; and we were very happy till The +Voices began." + +"Did he know you had The Voices when he married you?" + +"Yes, I told him all about them, but he only laughed at me. I suppose he +thought it was just a fancy on my part. Anyhow, he did not take them +seriously, and during our courtship they gave me freedom. My guide said +I need not sit for a while and father guarded me from all the evil ones +on that side who are so ready to rush in and take possession of a +medium. For two years I had no touch of 'the power,' and I really +thought it had all gone away from me. Then you came and I was very ill, +and father, my control, returned to tell me that you would be a great +man. 'Hereafter,' he said, 'I will direct you in the education of your +son.' Why, Victor, he named you. He said you should be called Victor +because you would overcome all opposition." + +"Well, just how did your separation come about?" + +"When my control began to demand things from me your father accused me +of playing tricks and sternly forbade any more of it. I tried not to go +into trance. I fought 'the power' and this angered father. He came upon +me so strong that I could do nothing with him. I heard The Voices all +the time and your father thought me crazy. I had what seemed like +epileptic fits. I seemed to lose my identity--but I didn't; I knew all +that was going on. It seemed as if I went out of my body while others +entered it and used it to torment and perplex your father. Then he +became convinced that I was abnormal in some way and experimented with +me--all in a very skeptical spirit--and gradually he lost his regard for +me. I became only 'a case of hysteria' to him. I could see him change +from day to day. He grew colder and more critical and more aloof all the +time. This made me so ill that I was unable to keep my feet--I grew old +rapidly, and another younger and prettier woman, one of his teachers, +gained the love I had lost and at last he went away with her." + +There was a little silence before Victor was able to ask, "Where did he +go?" + +"He went to Denver, and I never saw him again. He died not long after." + +"Then did you take to making a living out of the ghost-room?" + +"After your father left I asked my guides why they permitted him to +leave me, and they said it was considered necessary to keep me in 'the +work.' 'You were too happy,' they said. 'You are too valuable an +instrument to live out your life simply as wife and mother. You are now +to be devoted to higher aims.' Since then whenever I have tried to get +out of 'the work' they have brought me back. Oh, you don't know what a +clutch they have on me. They know my income to a dollar. They let me +have just enough to live on and to educate you, but they won't let my +rich friends provide me with an income. I must do their will exactly or +they punish me." + +As she enlarged upon this phase of her life Victor was appalled by it. +Her madness--and madness it seemed to him--was now a settled and +specific part of her life. "How do they punish you?" he asked, after a +pause. + +"They do not hesitate to throw me into convulsions, or make me do things +that rob me of my friends. They bring disaster upon me whenever I try to +walk my own road. Every investment I make on my own judgment they +defeat. Did you ever plague an ant or a bug by putting something in its +way, checking its advance, no matter in which direction it went?" + +He nodded. "Yes, I've done that as a boy." + +"Well, that is exactly how they treat me. I've given up trying to do +anything in opposition to their wishes. I do the work that is laid out +for me." She sighed. "Yes, I've ceased to rebel. I am resigned. But, +Victor, you must not fail me. I shall be perfectly happy if only you +will be content to go with me and to grant at least that the work I am +doing is worth while. You're all I have now, and when I see you frowning +at me, so like your father, I am scared. That black look is on your face +this moment." + +"You need not be afraid of me, mother," he replied, wearily; "but you +must not ask me to believe in your voices and all the rest of it. It's +too unnatural and too foolish. But you're my good little mother all the +same, and I'm not going to desert you. I'm going to stay right here and +help you fight it out." + +She took his words to mean something sweet and filial and went to his +arms with happiness. + +As she lifted her head from his shoulder he looked round the room and +said, "But, mother, this ghost-room has got to go." + +"Oh, Victor, don't say that. I am ready to promise not to take money for +my work, but I can't promise anything further; and as for my ghost-room, +as you call it, it has so many associations with Paul and your +grandfather that I cannot think of giving it up. I dare not give it up." + +"You must quit it," he repeated. "If you give another séance--for +money--I will leave you and I will never come back." And on his face was +the stubborn look of his father. + + + + +III + +VICTOR MAKES A TEST + + +That night was a long and restless one for the mother, but the son, with +the healthy boy's power of forgetfulness, slept dreamlessly, waking only +when the morning light struck beneath his eyelids. For a moment the +thunder of the elevated trains in the alley puzzled him, and he rose +dazedly on his elbow expecting to catch Frenson at some practical joke, +but as his eyes took in the faded carpet, the cheap curtains, the +decrepit furniture, his brain cleared and his beleaguering worries came +back upon him like a swarm of vultures. + +He recalled the terror of his mother's trance, the coming of her lovely +friends, the ride, the luxurious dinner, and, last of all, the +significant words with which they had parted. + +In the light of the day his situation did not seem so complicated. "We +must leave this city and go out West somewhere--get shut of the whole +bunch. Father was right--this trance business is intolerable." + +His natural vigor and decision returned to him. He rose with a bound, +calling to his mother with a realization of the fact that she had no +cook. "Who gets breakfast, you or I?" + +She replied, with a little flutter of dismay in her voice, "I don't +believe there is a crumb of bread in the house." + +"Never mind," he replied; "I'll go to the corner and negotiate a roll." + +The neighborhood did not improve with daylight acquaintance, and on his +way back from the shop with a jug of cream and a paper bag in his hands +he dwelt again upon his motor-car ride to the Palace Hotel and reviewed +the eighteen-dollar meal they had eaten. He possessed sufficient sense +of humor to grin as he clutched his parcels. "If Miss Wood were to see +me now she'd experience a jolt." + +His smile did not last long. "Mrs. Joyce knows all about us," he +admitted. "That's why she blew us to that feast. She was trying to +compensate mother for her empty cupboard, which was very nice of her." +Then his thought went deeper. He began to understand that it was to +provide him with a larger allowance that his mother had been living +alone and doing her own work. "Dear little mutter!" he said, and his +heart softened toward her. "She's been walking the tight-rope, all +right." + +She was up and at work in the tiny kitchen as he came in. "I forgot to +get my supplies Saturday--and yesterday I was so upset--" + +"Never mind," he replied, gaily. "The 'royal gorge' we had last night +makes breakfast supererogatory. I've attached some rolls and a bottle of +cream, and if you've any coffee and sugar we're fixed." + +"I have sugar but no coffee. I drink--" + +"Not on your life!" he cut in. "No burnt wheat for me!" And he tore down +the stairs like mad. + +At the shop he found himself possessed of just seventeen cents, with +which he bought a half-pound of coffee. + +"Now I can begin my conquest of the world as all the great men have +done--penniless. It's me for a stroll down-town, I reckon." + +The table was neatly set when he returned, and his mother, proud of her +big and glowing boy, cheerily confronted him. "No matter how poor we +are," she said, "we can be happy." And with her faith renewed she +prepared the coffee for the cream. + +The sun struck into the bare little dining-room with golden charm, but +these two souls, so alike yet so unlike, faced each other with returning +constraint. As they talked their antagonism of purpose again developed. + +Victor outlined his plan of going West and starting anew. To this +suggestion his mother listened, then gently replied: "There are many +objections to that, Victor. First of all, I have no money." + +"Can't we sell something?" She shook her head, and he, after looking +around, ruefully admitted that there was nothing to sell. "But your +house--" This gave him a thought. "Why don't we go back to La Crescent? +I'll work on a farm, in a grocery--anything rather than have you keep on +with this business. It's dangerous, and it isn't nice." + +"Victor," she began, with more of self-assertion than she had hitherto +voiced, "you don't understand. My mediumship is not a business, it is a +sacred obligation. God has gifted me with the power of communicating +with those who have passed to a higher plane, and I must respect that +gift. I am in the hands of those wiser than either of us. To oppose them +would be self-destruction." + +He listened with growing coldness and hardness. "That's all a delusion," +he repeated. "Modern science has proved that mediumship is just plain +hysteria." + +"We won't argue," she replied, and her tone was that of one hurt. "I +_know_, for I have had the personal experience. I am only a leaf in the +wind when this power sweeps over me. So long as I live I must remain the +instrument of these our supernal friends--it is my work in the world, +and I must execute it." + +"What do you expect me to do?" he asked, almost brutally. + +"I'd like you to go back to your studies--" + +"That I will not do," he assured her in tones that expressed a final +decision. + +"Well then--will you remain here with me?" + +"Not with you carrying on the business which I hate." + +"Why should you hate it? To Leo and Mrs. Joyce my mission is noble." + +"I hate it because I think it's foolish, unnatural, and false. I don't +mean that you _consciously_ cheat, mother, but I am certain that in some +way it all comes down to that." + +She opened her arms in a gesture of passionate appeal. "My son, these +Voices have educated you--they have helped me to feed and clothe you. +Now here I am, prove me, try me, convict me if you can. I yield myself +to your tests. I _know_ the spirit life is a reality. If I did not I +should perish with despair. Every day, almost all hours of the day, +these Voices whisper in my ears. The hands of those you call the dead +caress my cheek. They cheer and admonish me. They are as real to me as +you are. If you can silence them, do so. I put myself into your hands. +Do what you will in proof of my powers." + +The boy was rapidly changing to the man. His mother's words beating upon +his brain aroused something in him which he had not hitherto +acknowledged. He thought deeply as he peered into her eyes, burning with +resolution. + +"She is honest--but she is the victim of a fixed idea." He had heard +much of "the fixed idea." "I will try her, I will rid her of her +obsession." Aloud he said: "The important thing is our living. How am I +to pay my way? I haven't a cent. I paid out my last penny for this +coffee." + +"I have a little money." + +"I told you I wouldn't take another dollar of your money, and I won't," +he replied, sharply. "That's settled. I must get clear and keep clear of +all this 'bunk.'" + +"But suppose you find my powers real?" she asked, trembling with +eagerness. + +He hesitated. "Then--well--if I believed in your powers I would still +object to your earning money with--by means of your--your Voices. I've +got to make my own way in the world, and from this moment!" + +She read an unmitigable opposition in his eyes and sadly said, "You'll +come here to sleep, won't you?" + +He conceded so much, though reluctantly. "Yes, I'll sleep here, but as +soon as I make a raise of any work I intend to pay for my board. As for +carfare, I guess my junk will have to go into 'hock.'" He rose. "You +see, I won a silver mug and a watch by being useful to the team. It's +them to 'Uncle Jake's,'" he ended, with a return to the college youth's +vocabulary, and going to his valise took out his reward for muscular +merit and showed it to her. "Isn't that smooth?" + +Her eyes shone with pride. "How much do you suppose you can borrow on +it?" she asked. + +"Oh, I don't know. Five dollars, maybe." + +"Well, I'll lend you ten dollars on it." + +He looked at her with musing eyes. "Say twenty, and you may have both +mug and watch." + +She went to her purse and handed to him the money. + +He took it without hesitation. "Well, here's where I hit the pavement +for a job." + +She confronted him in a final appeal. "Oh, Victor, I can't bear to have +you doubt me even for an hour. Stay with me to-day. Stay and let me talk +with you. I've had so little of you. Just think! for more than twelve +years I've kept you away from me--I've starved myself--my +mother-self--in order that you might grow to manhood untroubled by my +faith, and I can't bear to have you doubt me now." + +He understood something of her emotion and responded to it. "You dear, +faithful little mother, I realize now what I have cost you, and I'm +grateful; but that's the very reason why I can't let you do any more of +it. I must begin to pay you back." + +"All you need to do to pay me is to let me look at you," she fondly +replied. "I'm proud of you, Victor. I was proud of you last night. I saw +Leo admiring you, and Mrs. Joyce thinks you are splendid." + +He was interested. "By the way, who is Miss Wood?" + +"She's a niece of Mrs. Joyce. Mrs. Joyce is the widow of Joyce the +lumberman." + +"She seems to have all kinds of money." His face was thoughtful again. + +"Yes, she's rich, and she has been very kind to me. She took me to +California and to Europe. She is always doing things for me. It was just +like her to come to me yesterday--she is not one to fail in time of +trouble. I don't know what I should do without her." + +"She certainly is nice. What about Miss Wood? Does she believe in +your--your Voices?" He asked this without direct glance. + +"Yes. She doesn't say much, but she is deeply grateful to my guides." + +"She's no ordinary girl, I can see that. Is she rich also?" + +"Not as Mrs. Joyce is rich, but The Voices have sort of adopted her. +They say they will make her wealthy as a queen." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"They are telling her from week to week just how to invest her money." + +"Do you mean to tell me that _you_ advise her how to invest her money?" + +"No, I mean _The Voices_ advise her." + +"Why should 'they' know anything about business?" + +She became evasive. "They do! They've proved it again and again. Mrs. +Joyce's income has doubled in five years by following father's advice." + +He pondered on this deeply. "I don't like that. I don't see why you or +your Voices should be valuable in that way." + +"There are many things in this world for you to learn, my son," she +replied with an assumption of superior wisdom. + +This nettled him. "It don't take much wisdom to know that if you go on +advising people in that way you'll get into trouble. That's what that +writer said in the paper." + +She closed her lips tightly as if to keep back a cutting reply, and he +rose briskly. "Well, see here, we must put away these dishes." + +She acquiesced in his postponement of the discussion, and helped him +wash the dishes and set the room to rights. At last she said: "Where is +the morning _Star_? Have you seen it?" + +"There's a paper at the foot of the stairs; is that yours?" + +"Yes," she replied. + +"I'll get it," he said, and was out of the door and back again before +she fully realized that he was gone. He opened the twist of damp paper +with haste, fully expecting to find some new attack on "Mrs. Ollnee, the +Blood-sucker," but there was nothing. "All the same, you're not safe in +this house," he said. "They threatened to arrest you, and I don't like +to leave you here alone to-day." + +"You need not worry about me," she replied, quietly. "Father will take +care of me. If he saw any real danger coming my way he would warn me of +it." + +"He didn't warn you of the coming of the reporter, did he?" + +"No--he had some reason for permitting this cloud to come upon me. He +knows best." + +"I don't believe I'd put very much faith in 'guides' that didn't keep me +out of trouble." + +"Perhaps all this is a part of our discipline. They are wiser than we. I +accept even this disgrace as a good in disguise. Perhaps it was all +intended to bring you to me." + +The youth sank back again baffled by this all-inclosing acceptance. +"What do you intend to do to-day?" he asked, as she rose and walked over +to the little walnut table. + +"I am going to ask for advice." + +"Now?" + +"Yes; and I wish you would sit with me for a few moments and see if we +cannot secure direction for the day." + +He was beginning to be curious--and his desire to dig deeper into his +mother's brain overcame part of his repugnance. + +"All right," he boyishly answered, but his heart contracted with sudden +fear of finding her false. "Let's see what they're up to." + +"Take a seat opposite me," she said, and there was something commanding +in her voice. + +Drawing a chair up to the old brown table--which he remembered as one of +the pieces of furniture in his earliest childhood home--he took a seat. + +"Why do you keep this rickety old thing?" he asked, shaking it +viciously. + +"It was your grandfather's reading-table, and he likes me to keep it. +Besides, it is highly magnetized and very sensitive." + +"Oh rats!" he irreverently burst forth. "You can't magnetize a piece of +wood. Wood is a non-conductor. You can't subvert a physical law just by +saying so." + +"I don't mean it in that crude sense," she replied, quite mistress of +herself. She had taken up and was holding between her hands a small +hinged slate. + +"What's that for?" asked Victor. + +"To vitalize the surface. I am able to give it vitality by my touch." +She laid the slate upon the table and placed her spread hand upon it. +"Put your hand upon mine, Victor." + +He did as she bade him, rebelling at the childish folly of it all. "What +do you expect to do?" he asked. + +Almost immediately the slate seemed seized by a powerful hand. It began +to slide back and forth across the table violently, twisting and +clattering. The youth put forth his own great strength and stopped it, +but a crunching sound announced that the slate was broken. + +His mother said, sharply, "You mustn't do that, Victor." She took up the +slate and showed one corner crushed and crumbled. "You can't hold +it--you mustn't try--it angers them." + +He marveled at the strength which had resisted him, but argued that his +mother from long practice had become very muscular. Hysterical people +often displayed astounding power. + +After preparing a new slate she put it on the table as before, saying to +the air, "Please don't be rough, father--Victor can't prevent his +skepticism." + +Three loud raps answered, and she smiled. He says, "All right. He +understands." + +"Seems to me he's mighty touchy for one on the heavenly plane," Victor +retorted, maliciously. "Seems to me an all-seeing spirit ought to get my +point of view." + +A vigorous tapping on the table responded to this speech. + +"What's that?" asked Victor. + +"That is your father saying yes, he _does_ get your point of view." + +Victor had a feeling that his mother was receding from him as he faced +her across the table. She became the professional medium in her manner +and tone. He, too, changed. He hardened, assuming the attitude of the +scientific observer--hostile and derisive. His keen hazel-gray eyes +grew penetrating and his lips curled in scorn. His tone hurt her, but +she persisted in her sitting, and at last the slate began to tremble +throughout all its parts, and a grating sound like slow writing with a +pencil went on beneath it. Victor could plainly follow the dotting of +the i's and the crossing of the t's, till at the end a tapping indicated +that it was finished. + +"You may take the slate, Victor," said Mrs. Ollnee. + +He took it from the table and opened it. On one side, in bold script--a +bit old-fashioned--stood these words: "_Stay where you are. Let the boy +adventure into the city. Await results. I will be near. FATHER._" + +Victor, astounded, mystified, confronted his mother with wide eyes. +"Now, what does that mean?" + +"It means that I am to keep this house just as it is and you are to seek +work in the city. Is that right, Paul?" + +Three taps made answer. + +The youth was stunned by the boldness and cleverness of all this. He was +pained, too. He perceived no sign of abnormal thinking in his mother's +action. She was not hysterical. _She was not entranced._ Whatever she +did she did consciously--and the thought that she could deliberately +deceive him was shocking. He breathed quickly and a nervous clutch came +into his hands. He resented being fooled. "Let's try that again," he +said; and his tone was precisely that of the child who sees a grown +person swallow a coin and take it out of his ear. He was angry as well +as sad. "Don't put your hand on it," he protested. "I don't like the +looks of that." + +She submitted, and then as he was putting it down on the table the sound +of writing was heard within it. He laid his hand on the slates, and +still the writing went on! With amazement he realized that both her +hands were in sight and in no wise concerned in the writing. The right +rested lightly and quietly on the frame of the slate, but the left, +which lay on the opposite corner of the table, was quivering throughout +all its minute muscles. + +Amazed beyond words, excited, breathing deep, with a shudder of nervous +excitement running over his entire body, Victor listened to the mystic +pencil. "How _do_ you work that?" he asked, in a whisper. + +"I don't know. I have nothing to do with it," she answered; and taking +the upper hinge of the slate between her fingers and thumb she slowly +raised it. + +_And still the writing went on!_ + +Victor, holding his breath in awe, bent to look within, but as the +opening grew wider the writing stopped. + +He snatched the slates from the table and studied the lines, which were +made up of minute dots. It was all perfectly legible: "_Son. I doubted. +Now I know._" + +Victor sank back into his seat and stared speechlessly at the slate and +the table. The problem of his mother's mediumship had taken on new +elements of mystery. This physical test brought it into the range of his +knowledge and interest. It was no longer a question of her honesty or +sanity, it had become a problem in dynamics. + +How was that bit of pencil moved? The messages he ignored--they didn't +matter--but the method of their production seemed to eliminate all +trickery, conscious or unconscious. Why did his mother's left hand +quiver--and how could that writing shape itself? + +His voice was husky with emotion as he said: "Mother, I don't understand +that. You've got to tell me how that is done." + +She felt the desperate resolution in his voice and she solemnly +answered, "My son, I don't _know_ how it is done." + +"But you _must_ know! Who moves that pencil! Your hand quivered all the +time." + +"Yes, I seem to have some physical connection with it--at times. Other +times all that takes place has no more connection with me than the +sunlight on the floor. The world is a very mysterious place to me, +Victor. I don't pretend to know anything. I do as I am told." + +He fell silent again while his mind reviewed the entire process. Then +he burst out, vehemently, on a new line. "I can't believe my eyes. +You've hypnotized me. Mother, for God's sake don't juggle with me--don't +play tricks with me. I won't stand for it. It hurts me--" He paused, +confused, baffled, ready to weep. + +"Can you, my own son, accuse me of trickery?" she asked. + +"You _think_ you're honest, mother--but don't you see you've become an +_unconscious hypnotist_? It's your subconscious self deceiving us both. +I don't know how you do it, but I know it must be a fraud." + +"Victor," she said, solemnly, "what this power is you shall have full +opportunity to determine, but I say to you that for more than twenty +years I've been guided by these unseen presences. I've tested their +wisdom and lived under their care. So far as this message is concerned I +accept it. I was confused and frightened yesterday, but this morning I +am calm. I shall do as they bid. I shall stay here while you go down +into the city and see what you can find to do, and together we will test +these voices." + +There was a ring of new-found decision in her tone that quite dashed +him. He sat dumbly facing her, helpless in a whirl of mental storm. "Is +she more cunning than I thought? Is she playing a more complex game than +appears?" These thoughts vaguely shaped themselves. Then his filial self +answered: "But what has she to gain? She loves me. She has sacrificed +herself to keep me at school--why should she deceive me?" + +Here again a third conception came to embitter him. He spoke. "You don't +seem to mind my loss of a degree?" + +"Yes, I do, Victor. I feel that very deeply, but the higher wisdom of +your grandfather resigns me. I cannot tell what is behind it. By his +power to read the future he may be preventing some terrible accident, +some calamity by fire or water--I have an impression that it is +something of that sort." + +"_No_," came a whisper from the air. + +She turned her face upward, and, listening intently, asked, "What is the +reason, father?" + +"_Discipline_," the whisper replied. + +"He says 'discipline,' Victor." + +"Discipline!" he echoed. "Why should I be disciplined? What have I +done?" + +"_It is not what you've done--it's what you are to do._" + +The Voice did not reply to further questions, and the silence gave out a +kind of cold contempt, which cut the boy as he waited. + +"Let's try that slate business again," he said at last. But to this his +mother would not consent. + +"It's of no use," she said. "They are gone. There is no 'power' +present." + +He again faced her with alien, accusing eyes. "When will you try this +again?" + +"To-night, when you come home." + +"Home!" he sneered, looking about. "Do you expect me to call this place +home? Do you expect me to hang about this scrubby hole to be disciplined +by your Voices?" + +The sound of a knock at the door gave her a moment's respite. "The +postman," she explained as she rose to go to the door. + +She was gone for several minutes and Victor heard her in friendly +conversation with a pleasant male voice. Some way this added to his +anger and disgust. + +She came back with a letter in her hand which she began at once to open. +"It is from Louise, I mean Mrs. Joyce." + +She read it through with smiling face, then said, "Victor, you must be +nice to Louise, she has done _everything_ for us." + +This brought him to his feet. "I understand all that now. It is _her_ +money I've been living on--I won't touch another cent that comes from +her. Understand that! I won't eat another dinner that she pays for." + +"Why, Victor, you should not feel that way! What has she done to make +you bitter?" + +"Nothing. I refuse to live on her charity, that's all, and I want you to +find out just how much I owe her--how much _you_ owe her--for I intend +to pay her back every dollar with interest." + +"But she considers I've already paid her. She feels that I have always +given her bounteous return for all her aid." + +"I don't figure it that way," he said. "She's just amusing herself--" + +She interrupted. "Listen to what she says." She read: "'I want to tell +you how much I like your son. He is so vivid and so powerful. I'm sorry +he is to miss his degree. Can't you persuade him to go back? I'll be +glad to advance what is necessary--'" + +"There it is, you see! There's the rich lady helping a poor relation." + +"Wait, son!" she pleaded, and read on. "'I feel that I owe you ten times +what you've permitted me to do for you.'" + +"That's all very nice of her, mother, but I won't have any more of it." +He pounded out the sentence with his fist. + +She looked up at him with mingled fear and pride. "You are exactly like +your father as you say that," she declared. "Oh, Victor, my son! If +_you_ leave me in anger I shall be desolate indeed. I can't live without +you. Please believe in me--and love me--for you're all I have on this +earth." + +His anger died away. He saw her again as she really was, a pale, devoted +little saint, with troubled brow and quivering lips, one who had shed +her very life-blood for him--to doubt her became a monstrous cruelty. + +He put his arms about her and hugged her close. "I didn't mean to hurt +you, mother--but your world is so strange to me. I'll stay, I'll do the +best I can here; only don't work this slate trick any more. Don't sit +for any one but me. Will you promise that?" + +"May I not sit for Louise?" + +"Not without me." + +"I dare not promise, Victor. Father may insist. If he does _not_ insist +I will do as you wish. I will give it up." + +He kissed her. "Dear little mother, you sha'n't live alone any more, and +you shall soon have a home that is worthy of you." + +She was weeping, and a big lump in his own throat made speech difficult. +To cover his emotion he slangily said: "Well, now, it's me to the marts +of trade. Perhaps I'll fool The Voices yet." + + + + +IV + +VICTOR THROWS DOWN THE ALTAR + + +"How do people get jobs," he asked himself as he set forth. "'Want ads,' +I suppose." He went deeper. "What am I fitted for? I can keep books--in +a fashion--or I can clerk. My training has not fitted me for any special +thing, unless to sell sporting-goods." This was a "lead," and his face +brightened. "My work on the team ought to help me in that direction. +Good idea! I'll hie me to the sporting-goods houses." + +The first two managers with whom he talked, while much impressed by him, +were completely manned, but the third was disposed to consider him till +he told him his name. "No relation to Mrs. Ollnee, the medium?" he +asked, with a grin, while poising his pencil to write. + +For an instant Victor hesitated, then took the leap. "Well, yes, I am, +but then you don't want to believe that report; it's more than half a +lie." + +The manager's smile vanished. He left the address half finished. "So you +are the son they spoke of?" he said, with a cold, keen glance. + +"Yes, I am," Victor boldly answered. + +He closed his book. "I don't believe we can trade," he announced. "Of +course _I_ don't consider all mediums frauds and liars, but this house +is very particular about its help--" + +Victor turned and walked away, bitterly rebellious of soul and +disheartened. For a time his anger burned so hotly within him that he +meditated taking the train and leaving the city and all it held behind +him. Again and again his thought returned to the picture his gentle +little mother had made as she had said good-by to him at the head of the +stairs. To accuse her of conscious deception was like accusing a sweet +girl of infanticide. How could she build up a system of fraudulent +fortune-telling, so intricate, so subtle, that it baffled the eye of the +reporter, who confessed that he had not been able to detect the +trickery. "It is only by induction, by inference, that one gets at the +_modus operandi_," he admitted. + +In his perturbation he walked away to the east and soon came out upon +the lake-front. A bunch of men and boys of all types and sizes were +playing ball on the barren ground, and with the athlete's undying love +of the sport he rose and edged into the game. He could not resist +showing his prowess by means of a few curves, and the crowd with instant +perception began to take a vivid interest in him. + +A half-hour of this restored his good-nature and he returned to the +cañons to the west, determined to find an opening somewhere. He was +never dismissed rudely--he was too big and well-dressed for that--but +the fact that he had no experience shut him out in most cases, and for +the rest the departments were filled with salesmen. Twice when he seemed +about to be taken on, his name and his mothers reputation shut the door +of opportunity in his face. + +At four o'clock he started slowly homeward, discouraged, not so much by +his failure as by the fact that everybody seemed to have a knowledge of +the article in the _Star_. It was evident that even when a manager did +not at the moment make the connection between his name and Mrs. Ollnee's +it would certainly come out later and he would be called upon to defend +himself and his mother from the sneers and jeers of his fellow-salesmen. +"I'm a marked man, that's sure," he said, in dismay. + +All day his mind had dwelt in flashes on the glorious life at Winona, +but now his memory of it was poisoned by the thought that he had been a +pensioner on the bounty of Mrs. Joyce. "The easy thing would be to +change my name and skip out for the plains," he said again, "but I +won't. I'll stay and fight it out right here some way." + +He was passing the public library at the moment and was moved to go in +and look up the "want ads" in the papers. Ten minutes' reading of these +filled him with despair. There were so many wanting work! His feet were +tired with walking and his brain weary with the movement of the street, +therefore he moved on to the reference room where he found an atmosphere +of study that was very grateful. + +Accustomed to work of this kind, he asked the attendant to bring him +catalogues, and was soon surrounded with books and magazines which dealt +with the modern study of psychic phenomena. He fell upon one or two of +these which gave exhaustive generalizations, and he was astounded to +find that European men of science of the loftiest type were engaged in +the study of precisely the same phenomena which his mother claimed to +produce. + +Careless of all else, he remained until six o'clock absorbed and +confused by what he read. Words and phrases like "telekinesis," +"teleplastic," "parasitic personalities," "externalized motricity," +"bio-psychic energy" danced about in his brain like fantastic insects. +He fairly staggered with the weight of the conceptions laid upon him, +and when at last he went out into the streets he had forgotten his race +for place behind the counter. + +It was nearly sunset, and his afternoon--his day--had gone for naught! +He was as far as ever from securing work--and wages--to keep his little +mother and himself from the corrupting care of charity. He was a bit +disgusted with himself, too, for wasting valuable time, and yet he was +enough of the scholar to feel a glow of delight in the company he had +been keeping. There was something large and free in the attitude of +those Italian men toward the universe, and before he had walked far he +promised himself to go again and continue that line of investigation. As +he walked up the avenue he came face to face with the dark, thin-faced +girl who had knocked at his mother's door the day before. She seemed +about to speak, but he passed her with blank look. + +He found his mother at the window waiting for him, and upon seeing him +she hurried to meet him at the head of the stairs. + +"What luck?" she called, with a smile. + +He shook his head. "Nothing doing," and received her caress rather +coldly, for he perceived Mrs. Joyce in the room. "It isn't so easy to +find a job. I'll be lucky if I dig one up in a week, I suppose." + +Mrs. Joyce greeted him cordially. "I've just been making a proposition +to your mother, Victor--I hope you'll let me call you Victor--which is, +that we all go abroad for a few months till this storm blows over." + +He looked at her with gravely interrogating glance. "How could we do +that?" + +She explained. "You both go as my guests, of course. We can motor +through France in June and get up into Switzerland in July." + +He sank into a chair and dazedly studied her. "Why should you offer to +do all that for us?" + +"Because I am very grateful to your mother for what she has done for me. +She not only cured my mother of cancer--she has cured me of despair. She +has taught me to believe again in the mystery of the world." + +"You mean she has done this as--as a medium?" + +"Yes--through her guides she has given me faith in the hereafter. Their +advice on a hundred different things has made life easy for me. My +wealth is largely due to the wisdom of Mr. Astor, who speaks through +her. He advises, and so does your grandfather, that I take you all +abroad this summer, and I think it a very nice suggestion." + +"Oh, the suggestion came from The Voices, did it?" His voice was full of +scornful suggestion. + +"Yes; but I thought of it myself yesterday as I read that terrible +article. You see, I'm told by Mr. Bartol, my lawyer, that the city +officials are about to start another campaign against all forms of +mediumship. I think it best, and so does your father, that we all leave +the city for a time, and escape this persecution." + +The beleaguered youth was not a polite deceiver at his best, and this +proposal appeared to him not merely chimerical, but immoral, for the +reason that his mother must have really proposed it. Through her +uncanny power of hypnosis, of suggestion, she had put the idea into her +rich friend's head. "I won't consider any such proposition," he bluntly +answered. "I don't recognize my mother's claim. You owe her nothing. I +don't believe she can cure cancer, and she has no right to advise +anybody in business matters." + +"You say that because you know nothing of the facts," Mrs. Joyce briskly +replied. "I understand your situation perfectly. Your mother has kept me +informed of her worries--she has no secrets from me--and I must say I +foresaw this antagonism on your part. I felt that you were growing away +from her, and yet The Voices advised her to keep you at school and to +say nothing. To show you how close they watch you I can tell you that +we've been informed of your whereabouts several times to-day. You met a +young man at noon, a pale, serious young man, whose name is Gilmer, who +said he would help you. Isn't that true?" + +He was properly surprised. "Yes, I did meet such a man." + +"Then you went to the library and read for a long time?" + +He sneered. "Did The Voices tell you that I was turned down everywhere +on account of my mother's reputation as a medium?" + +"No; but they said you would oppose the idea of our going abroad, and +that you were under discipline." + +"You're tired, Victor," interposed the mother. "Don't worry over me any +more now. I'll get you some coffee." + +While she was gone on this errand Mrs. Joyce leaned toward Victor and +said: "I can understand a part of your feeling, because there was a time +when I lived in the world of definite, commonplace things--but you must +not oppose your mother's Voices. They are as real to her as anything in +this universe. I've _proved_ their reality again and again. As I say, +they have advised me in my investments and always right. In a sense--in +a very real sense--I owe a part of my wealth to your mother, and the +little that she has permitted me to do in return for her aid is +trifling. I want to do more. Please be just to your dear little mother, +who is truly a marvelous creature and loves you beyond all other earthly +things. She lives only for you. If it were not for you she would pass on +to the spirit plane to-night." + +Victor listened to her in a sullen meditation. The whole situation was +becoming incredibly fantastic, vaporous as the texture of a dream. + +Mrs. Joyce went on: "Come to my house to-night for dinner. Never mind +the morrow till the morrow comes. Come and talk with some friends of +mine--they may help you." + +He spoke thickly: "I'm much obliged, Mrs. Joyce. I'm grateful for what +you've done for us, but to take her money or yours now would be--would +be dishonest. I can't let you feed us any longer--we've got to fight +this out alone." + +"What will you do with her Voices?" she asked. + +"Forget 'em," he answered, curtly. + +"They'll force you to remember them," she warningly retorted. "I assure +you they hold your fate in their hands." + +Mrs. Ollnee, returning, cut short the discussion, which was growing +heated. + +As he drank his coffee Victor recovered a part of his native courtesy. +"I'm going to win out," he said, with kindling eyes. "It would have been +a wonder if I had found a job the first day. I'm going to keep going +till I wear out my shoes." + +A knock at the door made his mother start. + +"Another reporter!" she whispered. "They're pestering me still." + +Victor rose with a spring. "I'll attend to this reporter business," he +said, hotly. + +"No," interposed Mrs. Joyce; "let me go, please!" + +He submitted, and she went to meet the intruder. Her quiet, +authoritative voice could be heard saying: "Mrs. Ollnee is not able to +see any one. That cruel and false article of yesterday has completely +upset her.--No, I am only her friend and nurse. I have nothing to say +except that the article in the _Star_ was false and malignant." + +Thereupon she closed and locked the door and came back quite serious. +"They've been coming almost every hour, determined to see your mother. I +would have taken her away, only she persisted in saying she must remain +here till you returned." + +"Have you been here all day?" he asked, moved by the thought of her +loyalty. + +His mother answered. "Louise came about ten this morning--and except for +an hour at lunch we've both been here waiting, listening." + +This devotion on the part of a rich and busy woman was deeply revealing. +The youth was being educated swiftly into new conceptions of human +nature. His mother was neither beautiful nor wise nor witty. Why should +she attract and hold a lady like Mrs. Joyce? He wondered if she had been +quite honest with him. Would her interest be the same if The Voices had +not enriched her? + +She returned to her invitations. "Now put on your dinner-suit and come +with us," she insisted. "My niece, Leo, will be there--surely you will +respond to that lure?" + +His mother laid her small hand upon his arm. "Let us go, Victor. I am in +terror here." + +"Why did you stay? Why didn't you go before?" he demanded. + +"Because The Voices said '_Wait!_'--and besides, I wanted to be here +when you came." + +He rose. "You go. I will come after dinner and bring you home." + +Mrs. Joyce was quick on the trail of his intent. "You refuse to eat my +bread! You _are_ rigorous. Very well. Let it be so. Come, Lucy, let us +go." + +Mrs. Ollnee seemed to listen a moment, then rose. "You'll surely come +after dinner, Victor?" + +"Yes, I'll come about nine," he replied, in a tone that was hard and +cold. And she went away deeply hurt. + +Left alone, he walked about the "ghost-room" with bitterness deepening +into fury. What were these invisible, intangible barriers which confined +him? He stood beside the old brown table which he had hated and feared +in his boyhood. What silliness it represented. The pile of slates, some +of them still bearing messages in pencil or colored crayon, offered +themselves to his hand. He took up one of these and read its oracular +statement: "_He will come to see the glory of the faith. His neck will +bow. It is discipline. Do not worry. FATHER._" Here was the source of +his troubles! + +He dashed the slate to the floor and ground it under his heel. Catching +the table by the side and up-ending it, he wrenched its legs off as he +would have wrung the neck of a vulture. He breathed upon it a blast of +contempt and hate, and, gathering it up in fragments, was starting to +throw it into the alley when the door burst open and his mother +reappeared, white, breathless, appalled. + +"_Victor_; what are you doing?" she called, with piercing intonation. + +He was shaken by her tone, her manner, but he answered, "I'm going to +throw this accursed thing into the alley." + +She put herself before him with one hand pressed upon her bosom, her +breath weak and fluttering. + +"You--shall--not! You are killing me. Don't you see that is a part of +me. Don't you know--Put it down instantly! _My very life and soul are in +it._" + +He dropped the broken thing in a disordered pile at her feet. Her +anguish, which seemed both physical and mental, stunned him. As they +stood thus confronting each other Mrs. Joyce returned. She seemed to +comprehend the situation instantly, and, putting her arm about the +little psychic's waist, gently said, "You'd better lie down, Lucy, you +are hurt." + +Mrs. Ollnee permitted herself to be led to the little couch silently +sobbing. + +It was growing dusky in the room, and the youth, though still +rebellious, was profoundly affected by this action. His hot anger died +away and a swift repentance softened him. "Don't cry, mother," he said, +clumsily kneeling beside her. "I didn't think you cared so much about +the old thing." + +Mrs. Joyce broke forth in scorn: "What a crude young barbarian you are! +That table is something more than a piece of wood to her. It is a +sacred altar. It is the place where the quick and the dead meet. It is +sentient with the touch of spirit hands--and you have desecrated it. You +have laid violent hands upon your mother's innermost heart. You will +destroy her if you keep on in this way." + +At these words the youth for the first time caught a glimpse of the +vital faith which lay behind and beneath these foolish and ridiculous +practices. No matter what that worn table was to him, it stood for his +mother's faith--that he now saw--and he was sorry. + +"I can rebuild it again," he said. "It is not hopelessly smashed. I will +repair it to-morrow." + +The symbolism which could be read in his words seemed to comfort his +mother and she grew quieter, but her face remained ghastly pale and her +breathing troubled. + +Mrs. Joyce turned to him again. "You can't deceive her. She knew the +instant you laid your destroying hands on that slate." + +He did not doubt this. In some hidden way his action had reached and +acted upon his mother as she was speeding down the avenue. Her sudden +return proved this--and his hair rose at the thought of her +clairvoyancy, and in answer to Mrs. Joyce's question, "Why did you do +it?" he replied, sullenly, but not bitterly: + +"I did it because I detest the thing and all that goes with it. I have +hated that table all my life." + +"What did you think your mother would do?" + +"I didn't stop to think. I only wanted to get the brute out of sight. I +wanted to end the whole trade at once." + +"You've got to be careful or you'll end your mother's earth-life. Let me +tell you, boy, if you want to keep her on this plane with you you must +be gentle with her. Any shock, especially when she is in trance, is very +dangerous to her." + +Victor began to feel his helplessness in the midst of the intangible +entangling threads of his mother's faith. He now saw the folly of his +action, and took an unexpected way of showing his contrition. + +"If you'll forgive me, mother, I'll go with you to Mrs. Joyce's dinner. +Come, let's get away from here for a little while; I feel stifled." + +This pleased and comforted her amazingly. She rose and placed one frail, +cold hand about his neck. "Dear boy! I forgive you. You didn't realize +what you were doing." + +Releasing himself he gathered up the fragments of the table and tenderly +examined them. "It can be mended," he reported. "I'll do it the first +thing in the morning." + +A faint smile came back to his mother's face. "I don't mind, Victor. I +feel already that this has brought us closer together. Your father is +here--he is smiling--and I am happier than I've been for weeks." + +Victor dressed for his party with trembling limbs. It seemed as if he +had passed through a tremendous battle wherein he had been defeated--and +yet his heart was strangely light. + + + + +V + +VICTOR RECEIVES A WARNING + + +Mrs. Joyce's house was a stone structure of rather characterless design +which stood at the intersection of a wide boulevard and one of the +narrower crosstown streets, but it seemed very palatial to Victor as he +wonderingly entered its looming granite portal. His mother tripped up +the stairs with the air of one who feels very much at home. + +A man in snuff-colored livery took his hat and coat and ushered him into +a large reception-room on the left, and there his hostess found him some +ten minutes later. "Come and meet my brother from California," she said, +and led the way across the hall into the library, where a tall man with +gray hair and mustache was talking with a dark, alert and smoothly +shaven man of middle age. The one Mrs. Joyce introduced as her brother, +Mr. Wood, and the other as Mr. Carew. + +Victor was relieved to have Miss Wood enter and greet him cordially, for +the men did not seem to value him sufficiently to include him in their +conversation. Mr. Wood was reserved and the tone of Carew's voice was +cynical. + +Leonora Wood was of that severe type of beauty which requires stately +gowns, and Victor confessed that she was quite the finest figure of a +girl he had ever met, but when Mrs. Joyce said, "You are to take Leo out +to dinner" he merely bowed, resenting her amused smile. + +His seat at table brought him next a very old lady--Mrs. Wood, +senior--who beamed upon him with cheerful interest. There were several +other women of that vague middle age which does not interest youth. + +Miss Wood talked extremely well, and he became interested in spite of +himself. + +"I wonder how much longer we're going to believe in 'luck' and +'coincidence,'" she said, after some remark of his. "Maybe it's all +thought transference or telepathy or something." + +"Don't tell me you really believe in such things. Professor Boyden says +they are all a part of the spineless mysticism which is sweeping over +the country." + +She assumed a patronizing air. "It's natural for undergraduates to quote +their teachers. I wonder how long it will be before you will consider +them all old fogies." + +He rose to the defense of his hero. "Boyden will never be an old fogy. +He's the most up-to-date man in America. He really is the only +experimentalist along these lines. He's out for the facts." + +"Your mother's Voices say he is as blind as the rest, wilfully blind." + +"Do you really hold stock in my mother's Voices?" + +She gazed upon him in large-eyed wonder. "Yes, don't you?" + +"No. How can they be anything but a delusion?" + +"I don't know. I only know they are profoundly mysterious and that they +tell me things which convince me. They seem to know my most secret +thought. I have been _forced_ to believe in them. My aunt's fortune has +been doubled and my own income greatly augmented by their advice." + +He took this up. "Tell me more about that. What did they advise you to +do?" + +"They advised buying certain stocks in a machine for making paper boxes +and recommended the Universal Traction Company." + +At this moment Mrs. Wood, senior, plucked at his sleeve. "Louise tells +me you're the son of our dear medium, Lucy Ollnee." + +"I am, yes," he replied, rather ungraciously, for he was eager to revert +to Leo. + +"Perhaps you're a medium yourself," the old lady pursued. + +"Thank the Lord, no! I haven't the ghost of a Voice about me." + +She chuckled. "At your age one thinks only of love and dollars. When you +are as old as I am the next world will interest you a great deal more +than it does now. Besides, you must believe in spirits after they have +made you rich. They've made Louise and Leo rich--I suppose you know +that?" + +He soon turned back to Leo. "I wish people would not talk my mother's +Voices to me. I hear nothing else now." + +"It's your mother's 'atmosphere.' No one thinks of anything else when in +her presence." + +"Don't you see how intolerable all that is going to be for me?" he +asked, with bitter gravity. "I can see that she isn't exactly human even +to you. She's just a sort of a freak. No one loves her or seeks her for +herself alone, only for what she can do. That's another reason why I +must insist on her getting away from this. I will not have her treated +like a wireless telephone." + +Her eyes expressed more sympathy than she put into her voice. "I see +what you mean; but, believe me, I had not thought of her in just that +light, and I think you're quite wrong about my aunt. She is really very +fond of your mother." + +He was eager to know more of what this clear-sighted girl had seen, but +her neighbor, Mr. Carew, claimed her, and he was forced back upon +Grandmother Wood, who talked of her new faith to him for nearly half an +hour. + +After dinner, while the ladies were in the drawing-room and the men were +smoking their cigars, the perturbed youth expected to be freed from any +further inquisition, for Philo Wood was apparently of that type of man +who has no interest in the things he cannot turn into hard cash. The +merits of a new strawboard box-machine was engaging his attention at +this time, but, after a few minutes of polite discussion of the weather +and other general topics, Carew, the lawyer, turned to Victor and began +an interrogation which made him wince. Carew was very nice about it, but +he pursued such a well-defined line of inquiry that it amounted to a +cross-examination. He soon possessed himself of the fact that Victor did +not approve of his mother's way of life and that he was trying to secure +employment in order to stop all further "fortune-telling" on his +mother's part. "I don't believe in it," he reiterated. + +"The amazing thing to me," interposed Wood, with quiet emphasis, "is +that her predictions come true. I 'play the ponies' a bit"--he +smiled--"and I have tried to draw Mrs. Ollnee into partnership with me. +'You have the spooks point out the winning horse to me,' said I to her, +'and I'll share the pot with you.'" + +"And she wouldn't do it?" asked Carew. + +Wood seemed to be highly amused. "No, she says her guides do not +sanction gambling of any sort. And yet she advises Louise to buy into a +new transportation scheme that looks to me like the worst kind of a +gamble. My advice counts for nothing against these Voices." + +"That's true," admitted Carew. "You might as well be the west wind so +far as influencing her goes. Since 'Mr. Astor' butted into the game my +services are good only in so far as they drive tandem with his! Now you +say you have no belief in the thing," he said, turning again to Victor. +"How is that? How did that come about?" + +"Well, in the first place, I've given some study to what Professor +Boyden calls delusional hysteria," Victor responded. + +Wood smiled cynically. "My sister won't mind what you call it so long as +it enables your mother to designate the winning stocks." + +The attitude of each of these men was that of watchful tolerance, and +Victor chafed under their assumption of superior wisdom. He plainly +perceived that Wood was using the psychic for his own ends, and this +angered him. He shut up like a clam and left the room as soon as he +could decently do so. + +He made his way to where Leonora was sitting on a sofa in the library +and took his seat beside her, with intent to continue the conversation +which they had begun at the dinner, but he forgot his problems as he +looked into her merry, candid eyes. + +Her first word was a compliment to his mother. "How pretty she looks +to-night! No one would suspect her of being 'the dark and subtle siren' +of yesterday's _Star_. Her face is positively angelic at this moment. +How beautiful she must have been as a girl! I must say you do not +resemble her." + +"Thank you," he said. + +She laughingly explained. "I mean you are so tall and dark. You must +resemble your father." + +"I believe I do, although I cannot remember him." + +"I wonder if he had your absurd pride. Aunt Louise tells me you +absolutely refuse to accept any favor from her, and that you were +practically forced into coming to dinner to-night. Is that true?" + +He leaned toward her with intense seriousness. "How would you feel if +you had suddenly learned that all your clothing, your food, your theater +tickets--everything had been paid for in money drawn from strangers by +means of--well--hypnotism." + +"If I believed that I should feel as you do, but I don't. It is not so +simple as all that. Your mother's power seems very real to me, and so +far as I can now see she has given us all value received for every +dollar. By rights one-half of all our profits belongs to her, or, if you +prefer, to her Voices. Do you know that these Voices will not permit her +to retain more than a scanty living out of all the wealth she makes for +others? Did you know that?" + +"I know she lives in a shabby apartment, and she tells me that she is +entirely under the control of these 'guides.'" + +"Yes, they refuse to let her keep anything beyond what she actually +needs for herself and your education. I think all that should be counted +in on her side, don't you? The fact that she is not enriching herself +surely makes her part in the transaction a clean one." + +He sank away from her and brooded over this thought for a minute or two +before he replied. "But the whole thing is so preposterous. Have you +seen her slate-writing 'stunt'?" + +"Many times; but I don't think you should call it a 'stunt.'" + +"Come, now, give me your honest opinion. Do you think my mother +unconsciously cheats?" + +She faced him with convincing candor. "No, I don't. I think she is +perfectly simple and straightforward, and I believe the writing is +supernormal." + +"How can you believe that? You're a college girl, mother tells me. Don't +the belief in these things wipe out everything you have been taught at +school? It certainly rips science into strips for me, or would--if I +believed it. It makes a fool of a man like Boyden, that's a sure thing." + +Mrs. Joyce, looking across the room, smiled in delight at the charming +picture these young people made in their animated conversation. +Doubtless they were glowing over Tennyson's position in modern poetry or +the question of Meredith's ultimate standing in fiction. + +What the youth was really saying to the maid was this: "What did you get +out of it all? What did The Voices give you?" + +"They told me to study composition, for one thing. They told me I would +compose successful songs, with the aid of--of Schubert." She was a +little embarrassed at the end. + +"And you took all that in?" + +She colored. "I'm afraid I didn't really believe the Schubert part. +However, I'm studying composition on the _chance_ of their being right." + +"You say they advise you on money matters. How do they do that?" + +"They advise my uncle through me to sell stock in a certain company and +buy in another. They told me to withdraw my money from my California +bank and put it into this Universal Traction Company." + +"Did you do that?" + +"Yes." + +"I'm sorry. I wish you wouldn't take their advice. I wish you would put +your money back where it came from at once." + +"Why?" + +"Because it scares me to think of your going into anything on my +mother's advice." + +"But it wasn't your mother's advice. It was the advice of a great +financier." + +"You mean a dead financier?" + +"Yes." + +He did not laugh at this; on the contrary, his face darkened. "I've +heard about that. Did he advise your uncle to go into this same +transportation company?" + +"Yes; all our friends are in it." + +"You mean everybody that went to my mother for advice?" + +"Yes." + +"Do many go to her for help of this kind?" + +"No, not many; she gives sittings only to my aunt and her friends now. +There were several big business men of the city who went regularly. Why, +Mr. Pettus, the president of the Traction Company, relies upon her." + +The absurdity of these great capitalists going to his mother's +threadbare little apartment for counsel in ways to win millions made +Victor smile. He said, with a mock sigh, "I wish these Voices would tell +me where to find a job that would pay fifteen dollars a week." + +"They will--if you give yourself up to them. You must have faith." + +"Oh, but the whole thing is dotty. Why should a poor farmer like my +grandfather by just merely dying become a great financier?" Again his +brow darkened and his voice deepened with contempt. "It's all poppycock! +If he knows so much about the future why didn't he warn my mother +against that reporter that came in the other day to do her up? Why +didn't he permit me to stay on at Winona and get my degree?" + +The girl was troubled by his questions and evaded them. "It must have +been hard to leave in the midst of your final term." + +"It was punishing. It was like being yanked out of the box in the middle +of an inning, with the game all coming your way." + +She knew enough of baseball slang to catch his meaning and she smiled as +she asked, "Why don't you go back?" + +"Simply because I couldn't stand the chinning I'd get from my +classmates." + +"Can't you go on with your studies here and pass your examination?" + +"I might do that if I could get a job that would pay me my board and +leave me a little time to study." + +She looked up at him with smiling archness. "Why not drive an +automobile? You could carry your books around under the seat and study +while waiting outside the shops or the theaters." + +"Good idea!" he exclaimed, responding to her humor. "I'm pretty handy +with the machine. One of my friends up at Winona had one. I hope you own +a car." He said this with intent to indicate his growing desire to be +near her. + +Mrs. Joyce came over at this moment to inquire what they were so jolly +about. + +Leo answered: "I was just suggesting that Mr. Ollnee become a chauffeur. +He could go on with his studies--" + +"Capital!" exclaimed Mr. Joyce. "The man I have is liable to drink and +very crusty in the bargain. You may have his place." + +"I'm afraid I wouldn't do," he responded. "I might get crusty, too." + +"I hope you are not liable to drink," said Leo. + +"No, sarsaparilla is my only tipple. But this is all Miss Wood's joke," +he explained. + +"I'm not joking, indeed I'm not," the girl retorted. "I don't know of +any skill that is more in demand just now than that of a chauffeur. I +know of one who is studying the piano. I don't see any reason why Mr. +Ollnee should not take it up temporarily. It's perfectly honorable. +Witness Bernard Shaw's play." + +"Oh, I'm not looking down on any job just now," he disclaimed. "All I +ask is a chance to earn a living while I'm finding out what my best +points are." + +Mr. Wood beckoned and Leo rose to meet him. "We must be off," he said. + +Victor bade Leo good-night with such feeling of intimacy and +friendliness as he had not hoped to attain for any one connected with +Mrs. Joyce. There was something in the pressure of her hand and in the +sympathetic tone of her voice at the last that he remembered with keen +pleasure. + +Mr. Carew was deep in conversation with Mrs. Ollnee, and Victor drew +near with intent to know what was being said. The lawyer was very +gentle, very respectful, but Mrs. Ollnee was undergoing a thorough +investigation at his hands. He represented the calm, slow-spoken, but +very keen inquisitor, and the psychic was already feeling the force of +his delicate, yet penetrating sarcasm. + +"I would advise you not to trust your Voices in matters that relate to +life, limb, or fortune," he said, suavely, and a veiled threat ran +beneath his words. "These Voices may be deceiving you." + +Mrs. Ollnee protested with vehemence. "Mr. Carew, I am content to put my +_soul_ into their keeping." + +He bowed and smiled. "Your faith is very wonderful." Then he added, with +a glance at Mrs. Joyce, who was listening, "For myself, I would not put +my second-best coat in their keeping." + +Mrs. Joyce intervened at this point, and, after some little discussion +of a conventional topic, offered to send Victor and his mother home in +her car. Victor was not pleased by her offer. It was only putting him +just that much deeper into her debt, but he could not well refuse, +especially as his mother accepted it as a matter of course. + +On the way he took up the question of Carew's warning. "He's right, +mother. You must stop advising people to buy or sell." + +"Why so, Victor?" + +"Suppose you should advise buying the wrong thing?" + +"But they don't advise the wrong thing, Victor. They are always right." + +"Always?" + +"Nobody has ever reported a failure," she declared. + +"Well, it's sure to come. Why should father or grandfather know any more +about stocks now than he did before he died?" + +She was a little nettled by his tone. "They have the constant advice of +a great financier on that side." + +"So Miss Wood told me. Who is this great financier who is so willing to +help you decide what to do with other people's money?" he asked, +cuttingly. + +She hesitated a little before saying "Commodore Vanderbilt." + +He could not keep back a derisive shout. "Vanderbilt! Well, and you +believe 'the great commodore' comes to our little hole of a home to +advise us? Oh, mother, that's too ridiculous." + +"My son," she began with some asperity, "we've been all over that ground +before. You don't realize how you hurt, how you dishonor me when you +doubt me and laugh at me." + +He felt the pain in her voice and began an apology. "I don't mean to +laugh at you, mother. But you must remember that I have been a student +for four years in the atmosphere of a great university, and all this +business--I've got to be honest with you--it's all raving madness to me. +You certainly must stop advising in business matters. Mr. Carew to-night +intended to give you warning." + +"I know he did," she quietly responded. + +"He meant to be kind. He meant to say that you were liable at any moment +to be held accountable for advice that went wrong. He told me that the +courts were full of cases where mediums had led people into willing +their property away, or where they had juggled with somebody else's +fortunes. He told me of having convicted one woman of this and of having +sent her to jail." + +"But have I prospered from these advices?" she asked, indignantly. "Can +any one accuse me of getting rich out of my 'work'? Please consider +that." + +"That does puzzle me. I can't see why 'they' help others and leave us +with a bare living. And, most important of all, why do 'they' permit you +to be hounded this way? Why didn't 'they' warn you? Why don't 'they' +help me?" + +She sighed submissively. "Of course they have their own reasons. In good +time all will be revealed to us. They are wiser than we, for all the +past and all the future are unrolled before their eyes." + +This reply silenced him. Small and gentle as she was, Victor realized +that she could resist with the strength of iron when it came to an +assault upon her faith. + +Above the knob of their own door they found a folded newspaper, and this +Victor seized with misgiving. "I wonder what is coming next?" he said. + +She paled with a definite premonition of trouble. "Open it at once," she +commanded. + +He was as eager as she, for he, too, foresaw some new attack upon their +peace. Lighting the gas, he opened the paper with trembling hands. On +the first page was his own photograph and the story of his leaving +college to defend his mother. Everything, even to the parting with +Frenson, was set down, luridly, side by side with the report of a +celebrated murder trial. + +At sight of this new indignity his sense of youth and weakness came back +upon him and, crumpling up the paper, he flung it upon the floor in +impotent rage. + +"That ends the fight here," he said. "How can I go about this town +seeking work to-morrow? Everybody will know my story, and, what's more, +here is your address given in full. Don't you see that makes it +impossible for either of us to remain here another day?" + +For the first time in her life the indomitable little psychic quailed +before the persistent malice of her foes. The splintered altar of her +faith lying in a disordered heap upon the floor symbolized the +estrangement which she felt between her invisible guides, her son, and +herself. Her maternal anxiety had developed swiftly in these few hours +of blissful companionship, and the world of wealth and comfort--for her +boy's sake--had become suddenly of enormous importance to her. She +wished him to be a happy man, and this desire weakened her abstract +sense of duty to the race. She spoke aloud in a tone of entreaty, +addressing herself to the intangible essences about her. "Father, are +you here? Speak to me, help me, I need you." + +Victor turned upon her with darkened brow. "Oh, for God's sake, stop +that! I don't want any advice from the air." + +She persisted. "Paul, come to me! Tell me what to do. Please come!" + +Her voice was thrilling with its weakness and appeal, but Victor was +furious. He refused to listen. His brow was set and stern. + +At last she cried out, poignantly, "They are not here. They have +deserted us. What shall I do?" She turned toward the table. "Rebuild my +altar. You said you would. Restore that and perhaps they will come to us +again. They are angry with me now. They have left me, perhaps forever." + +"If 'they' have I shall be glad of it," he returned, brutally. "'They' +have been a curse to you and to me, also. We are better off without +them. Come, let us pack up the few things we have and go away into the +West, where no one will know even so much as our name. That is the only +way left open for us." + +"No, no," she cried out, "that is impossible. I must remain here. I must +wait until they come back to me. I can't go now, and you must not desert +me," she ended, and in her voice was something very pitiful. + +He moved away from her and took his seat in sullen rage. For a long time +he did not even look at her, though he knew she was waiting and +listening. + +At last he rose, and his voice was harsh and hoarse. "Mother, my mind is +made up. There's no use talking against it. I leave this city to-morrow +morning. I shall go as far as my money will carry me. I shall change my +name and get rid of this whole accursed business. I've hated it, I've +hated your 'ghost-room' and your Voices all my life, and this is the end +of it for me. If you will not go with me then I must leave you behind." + +She uttered a moaning cry of grief and ran like one stricken into her +room, flinging herself face downward upon her bed. He listened for a few +moments with something tugging at his heart-strings, but his face was +set in unrelenting lines. Then he rose and set to work repacking his +trunk. + + + + +VI + +VICTOR IS CHECKED IN HIS FLIGHT + + +When Victor woke from his uneasy sleep next morning his first glance was +toward his mother's room wherein he had seen her vanish in an agony of +grief and despair. All was quiet, and after dressing himself--still +firmly resolved upon flight--he went to the door and silently peered in. + +She was sleeping peacefully, her thin hands folded on her breast, and he +drew a sigh of relief. + +"I am glad she's able to sleep," he said, and stole back to the pantry. + +He studied its sparse supplies with care. There was not much to do with, +but he boiled some eggs and made coffee very quietly, with intent to let +his mother sleep as long as she could. He found himself less savage than +the night before. + +"I can't leave till she wakes," he said to himself, "but I'm going, all +the same." + +In order to pass the time of waiting he went down to the foot of the +stairs to find the morning paper. He opened it with apprehension, but +breathed a sigh of relief upon finding no further "scare heads" of +himself. The only reference to his mother came in the midst of an +editorial advocating the cleaning out of all the healers, palmists, +fortune-tellers, and mediums in the city. With lofty virtue the writer +went on to say that the _Star_ had refused to advertise the business of +these people, no matter what the pecuniary reward, and that it purposed +a continuous campaign. "We intend to pursue all such women as Mrs. +Ollnee, who fasten upon their credulous dupes like leeches," he +declared. + +As Victor read this paragraph he caught again the violence of contrast +between the woman pictured by the pen of the editor and the pale, sweet, +mild-voiced little woman who was his mother. It would have been funny +had it not been so serious and so personal. Furthermore, the paragraph +strengthened him in his determination to leave the city, and he still +hoped to be able to persuade his mother to go with him. + +At eight o'clock he once more tiptoed in to see if she still slept, and +finding her in the same position his heart softened with pity. "She must +have been completely tired out, poor little mother! I'm afraid what I +said to her worried her." + +After another hour of impatient waiting he again entered her room and +studied her more intently. There was something suggestive of death in +the folded hands and he could detect no breathing. Her face was as pale +as that of a corpse, and his blood chilled a little as he approached +her. He called to her at last, but she did not stir. + +Stepping to her bedside, he laid his palm upon her wrist. It was cold as +ice, and he started back filled with fear. "Mother! _mother!_ Are you +ill?" he called. She gave no sign of life. + +For a long time he stood there, rigid with fear, not knowing what to do. +He knew no one in all the city upon whom he could call save Mrs. Joyce +and Leo, and he did not know their street or number. He felt himself +utterly alone, helpless, ignorant as a babe, and in the presence of +death. + +Gradually his brain cleared. Sorrow overcame his instinctive awe of a +dead body. He felt once more the pulseless arm and studied closely the +rigid face. "She is gone!" he sobbingly cried, "and I was so cruel to +her last night!" + +The memory of his harsh voice, his brutal words, came back to plague +him, now that she was deaf to his remorse. How little, how gentle she +was, and how self-sacrificing she had been for him! "She burned out her +very soul for me," he acknowledged. + +He remained beside her thus till the sound of a crying babe on the floor +below suggested to him the presence of neighbors. Hastening down-stairs, +he knocked upon the first door he came to with frantic insistence. + +A slatternly young woman with a crown of flaming red-gold hair came to +the door. She smiled in greeting, but his first words startled her. + +"My mother is dead. Come up and help me. I don't know what to do." + +His tone carried conviction, and the girl did not hesitate a moment. She +turned and called: "Father, come here quick. Mrs. Ollnee is dead." + +An old man with weak eyes and a loose-hung mouth shuffled forward. To +him the girl explained: "This is Mrs. Ollnee's son. He says his mother +is dead. I'm going up there. You look out for the baby." She turned back +to Victor. "When did she die?" + +"I found her cold and still this morning." + +"Have you called a doctor?" + +"No, I don't know of any to call." + +"Jimmie!" she shrieked. + +A boy's voice answered, "What ye want, maw?" + +"Jimmie, you hustle into your clothes and run down the street to Doctor +Sill's office and tell him to come up here right away. Hurry now!" + +Closing the door behind her, she started resolutely up the stairway, and +her action gave Victor a grateful sense of relief. + +"What do you think ailed her?" she asked. + +"I don't know. She seemed all right last night when I went to bed." + +This woman, young in years, was old in experience, that was evident, for +she proceeded unhesitatingly to the silent bedside with that courage to +meet death which seems native to all women. She, too, listened and felt +for signs of life and found none. "I reckon you're right," she said, +quietly. "She's cold as a stone." + +At her words the strong young fellow gave way. He turned his face to the +wall, sobbing, tortured by the thought that his bitter and savage +assault and expressed resolve to leave her had been the cause of his +mother's death. "What can I do?" he asked, when he was able to speak. "I +must do something--she was so good to me." + +The young woman, looking upon him with large tolerance and a certain +measure of admiration, replied: "There's nothing to do now but wait for +the doctor. You'd better come down with me and have some coffee." + +He did not feel in the least like eating or drinking, but he needed +human companionship. Therefore he followed his neighbor down the stairs +and into her cluttered little living-room with submissive gratitude. The +home was slovenly, but it was glorified by kindliness. A tousled baby of +eighteen months was keeping the old man busy and a small boy of eight or +nine was struggling into his knickerbockers, and Victor, thrust into the +midst of this hearty, dirty, noisy household, remembered with increasing +respect his mother's dainty housekeeping. "She was a lady," he said to +himself, in definition of the difference between her apartment and this. +"Her home was poor, but it was never ratty." + +Mrs. Bowers was kindness and consideration itself. Her father, deaf and +partly paralytic, was treated gently, although he was irritatingly slow +of comprehension and insisted on knowing all about what had taken place +up-stairs. It pained and disgusted Victor inexpressibly to have his +mother's condition bawled into the old man's ears, but he could not +reasonably interfere. + +He thought of Mrs. Joyce, knowing that his mother would want to have her +instantly informed. "I ought to telephone some friends," he said to Mrs. +Bowers. "Where is the nearest 'phone?" + +She told him, and he went out and down the steps in haste to let Mrs. +Joyce know of his tragic bereavement, and when at the drug-store near by +he finally succeeded in getting communication with the house he was +deeply disappointed to be told by the butler that Mrs. Joyce was not +down and could not be disturbed so early in the morning. + +"But I _must_ see her," he insisted. "My mother, Mrs. Ollnee, her +friend, is--is--very sick. I am Victor, her son, and I'm sure Mrs. Joyce +would want to speak to me." + +The butler's voice changed. "Oh, very well, Mr. Ollnee," he replied, +knowing the intimacy which existed between his mistress and the +psychic. "Just hold the line; I'll call her." + +It was a long time before the calm, cultivated voice of Mrs. Joyce came +over the 'phone, but it was worth the waiting for. "Who is it?" she +asked. + +"Mrs. Joyce, this is Victor Ollnee. My mother is very, very ill. I'm +afraid she's dead." + +He heard her gasp of pain and surprise as she called: "Your mother! Why +she seemed perfectly well last night." + +"I found her lying cold and still this morning. I can't detect any pulse +or any breathing. Can't you come over at once? Please do. I don't know a +soul in the city but you, and I'm in great trouble." + +"You poor boy! Of course I'll come. I'll be over instantly. Have you +called a doctor?" + +"No, I don't know of any." + +"Where are you now?" + +"At the corner drug-store." + +"Is any one with your mother?" + +"No, but the woman below has been up. She is quite sure my mother is +dead." + +"Gracious heavens! I can't realize it. Good-by for a few minutes. I'll +come at once." + +Victor returned to Mrs. Bowers' apartment with a glow of grateful +affection for Mrs. Joyce. It was wonderful what comfort and security +came to him with her voice so sincerely filled with compassion and +desire to help. He wondered if Leo would come with her, and asked +himself how the news of his bereavement would affect her. Her attitude +toward him had been that of the elder sister who felt herself also to be +the wiser, but he did not resent that now. + +He thought of the effect of his mother's death upon the press. Would the +_Star_ forego its malignant assault upon her character now that she was +gone beyond its reach? Would those who threatened her with arrest be +remorseful? + +Mrs. Bowers persuaded him to take another cup of hot coffee, and then +together they returned to the little apartment above to wait for the +coming of the doctor and Mrs. Joyce. The young mother became +philosophical at once. "After a body gets to be forty I tell you he +don't know what's going to happen next. I reckon you better set here +where you can't see the bed," she added, kindly. "It don't do any good, +and it only makes you grieve the harder." + +He obeyed her like a child and listened through his mist of tears as she +rambled on. "I've had my share of trouble," she explained. "First my +mother went, then my oldest boy, then my husband took sick. Yes, a body +has to face trouble about so often, anyway, and, besides, I don't +suppose your mother was afraid of death, anyhow. I've known all along +what her business was, ever since I came into the house, and I've been +up to see her a few times. Still I'm not much of a believer. Dad is, +though. It's his greatest affliction that he can't hear The Voices any +more. I want to say I believe in your mother. She was a mighty fine +woman; but the docterin of spiritualism I never could swaller, +notwithstanding I grew up 'longside of it." + +The sound of a decisive step on the stairs cut her short. "I bet a +cookie that's the doctor!" + +A clear, crisp, incisive voice responded to her greeting at the door, +and a moment later a beardless, rather fat young fellow was confronting +Victor with professional, smiling eyes. "You're not the patient," he +stated, rather than asked. Victor shook his head and pointed to the bed. + +With quick step the physician entered the bedroom and set to work upon +the motionless form with methodical haste. He was still busy in this way +when the whir of a motor car announced Mrs. Joyce. + +Victor was at the door to meet her, and when she saw him she opened her +arms and took him to her broad, maternal bosom. "You poor boy!" she +said, patting his shoulder. "You're having more than your share of +trouble." + +He frankly sobbed out his penitence and grief. "Oh, Mrs. Joyce! She's +gone, and I was so hard last night. I'll never forgive myself for what I +said to her." + +She again patted him on the shoulder with intent to comfort him. "There, +there! I don't believe you have anything to reproach yourself for, and, +then, remember your mother's beautiful faith. She has not gone far away. +Her heaven is not distant. She is very near. She has merely cast off the +garment we call flesh. She is here, close beside you, closer than ever +before, touching you, knowing what you think and feel." + +In this way she comforted him, and in a measure drew his mind away from +the memory of his cruel and unfilial words. + +Sill approached her with thoughtful glance. "Are you related to this +woman?" + +"No, I am only a friend," replied Mrs. Joyce; "but this is her son." + +"When did you discover your mother's present condition?" + +"This morning." + +"Did you fold her hands and put her in the position she occupies?" + +"No, that is the strange thing. When I left her last night she was--she +was lying across the bed, face downward. I had just told her that I was +going away and that I wanted her to go with me. She refused to do this +and tried to get The Voices to speak to her. They would not come, and so +she, being hurt, I suppose, by what I said, ran into the room and flung +herself down on the bed, weeping. I was angry at her and did not speak +to her again. I went to sleep out here on the couch, and did not see her +again till morning. When I looked in at eight o'clock she was lying just +as she is now." + +Sill eyed him keenly. "Do you mean that you quarreled?" + +Mrs. Joyce interposed. "I can explain that," she said. "Mrs. Ollnee was +my friend. She was what is called a medium. She is the Mrs. Ollnee you +may have read about in the papers." + +"Ah!" Sill's tone conveyed a mingling of surprise and increased +interest. "So you are the son of Mrs. Ollnee?" he said, turning to +Victor. + +Mrs. Joyce again answered for him. "Yes; he has been away at school; he +came home Sunday to comfort and protect his mother; but, unfortunately, +he does not accept her faith. He rebelled against her work, and demanded +that she give up her Voices. I can understand his wanting her to go away +with him, and I can understand also how painful it was to her; but I +don't believe that what he said had anything to do with her passing out. +She was very frail at best, and has many times said that she expected to +leave the body in one of her trances and never again resume her worn-out +garment." + +"She was subject to trances, then?" + +"Yes, though not strictly a trance-medium, she did occasionally pass out +of the body." + +"May I take your name?" + +"Certainly; I am Mrs. John H. Joyce, of Prairie Avenue." + +His manner changed. "Oh yes. I should have known you, Mrs. Joyce, I have +seen you before. What you tell me does not explain the disposal of Mrs. +Ollnee's body. She must have gone to her death consciously, as if +preparing to sleep. Perhaps she intended only to enter a trance." + +Mrs. Joyce started. "She may be in trance now! Have you thought of that, +Doctor?" + +Victor's heart bounded at the suggestion. "Do you think it possible?" he +asked, excitedly. + +Sill remained unmoved. "She does not respond to any test, I'm sorry to +say. Life is extinct." + +The entrance of Doctor Eberly, a tall, stooping man with deep-set eyes +and a sad, worn face, cut short this explanation. Eberly was Mrs. +Joyce's family physician, and taking him aside she presented the case. + +Eberly knew Doctor Sill, and together they returned to Mrs. Ollnee's +bedside while Mrs. Joyce kept Victor as far away from their examination +as possible. + +"There have been many cases of this deep trance, Victor, and we must not +permit the coroner to come till we are absolutely convinced that your +mother has gone out never to return." + +"She must come back," he cried, huskily. "She did so much for me. I want +to do something for her." + +"You did a great deal for her, my dear boy. It was a great joy and +comfort to her to see you growing into manhood. She was a little afraid +of you, but she worshiped you all the same. Your letters were an ecstasy +to her." + +"And I wrote so seldom," he groaned. "I was so busy with my games, my +studies, I hardly thought of her. If she will only come back to me I +will give up everything for her." + +"She understood you, Victor. She was a wonderful little woman, lovely in +her serene, high thought. She lived on a lofty plane." + +"I begin to see that," he answered, contritely. "I understand her better +now." + +The kindly Mrs. Bowers had slipped away back to her household below, and +the men of science were still deep in a low-toned, deliberate +discussion, so that Victor and the woman he now knew to be his best +friend were left to confront each other in mutual study. He was +wondering at her interest in him, and she was weighing his grief and +remorse, thinking enviously of his youth and bodily perfection. "I wish +you were my son," she uttered, wistfully. + +Doctor Eberly again approached, walking in that quaint, sidewise fashion +which had made him the subject of jocose remark among his pupils at the +medical school. + +Mrs. Joyce was instant in inquiry. "How is she, Doctor?" + +"Life is extinct," he replied, with fateful precision. + +"Are you sure?" she demanded. + +"Reasonably so. One is never sure of anything that concerns the human +organism," he replied, wearily. + +She warned him: "You must remember she was accustomed to these trances." + +"So I understand. Nevertheless, this is something more than trance. So +far as I can determine, this body is without a tenant." + +"The tenant may come back," she insisted. + +He looked away. "I know your faith, but I am quite sure all is over. +_Rigor mortis_ has set in." + +She rose emphatically. "I have a feeling that you are both mistaken. Let +me see her. Come, Victor, why do you shrink? It is but her garment lying +there." + +She led the way to the bedside and laid her warm, plump hands on the +pale, thin, cold, and rigid fingers of her friend. She stooped and +peered into the sightless visage. "Lucy, are you present? Can you see +me?" + +Doctor Sill then said: "The eyes alone puzzle me. The pupils are not +precisely--" + +"If there is the slightest doubt--" Mrs. Joyce began. + +"Oh, I didn't mean to convey that, Mrs. Joyce. I was merely giving you +the exact point--" + +"She shall lie precisely as she is till to-morrow," announced Mrs. +Joyce, firmly. "I have an 'impression' that she wishes to have it so. +Will you permit this?" She confronted the two physicians. "Will you wait +till to-morrow before reporting?" + +Doctor Eberly considered a moment. "If you insist, Mrs. Joyce, and if it +is Mr. Ollnee's wish--" + +"Yes, yes," Victor cried, "I've heard of people being buried alive. It +is too horrible to think about! Leave us alone till to-morrow." + +The physicians conferred apart, and at last Eberly turned to say: "It +seems to us a perfectly harmless concession. We will not report the case +till to-morrow. Doctor Sill will call in the morning and decide what +further course to take." + +"Thank you," repeated Mrs. Joyce. + +After the doctors had gone she turned to Victor, saying: "There is +nothing for us to do now but to wait. If Lucy has gone out of her body +forever she will manifest to us here in some familiar way. If she +intends to return she will revive the body and speak from it sometime +between now and dawn." + +"She seems to sleep," he said; and now that his awe and terror were +lessened by his hope, he was able to study her face more exactly. "How +peaceful she seems--and how little she is!" + +"A great soul in a dainty envelope," Mrs. Joyce replied. "Would you mind +taking my car and going to my home to tell Leonora where I am? I wish +also you would bring Mrs. Post, my seamstress, back with you. She's a +good, strong, kindly soul and will be most helpful to-day." + +He consented readily and went away in the car, with the bright spring +sunlight flooding the world, feeling himself snared in an invisible +net. All thought of leaving the city passed out of his mind. He thought +only of his mother and of her possible revivification. "I will fight the +world here if only she will return," he said. + +It seemed years since the ball game of Saturday wherein he had taken +such joyous and honorable part. At that time his universe held no +sorrow, no care, no uncertainty. Now here he sat, plunged deep in +mystery and confusion, face to face with death, penniless, beleaguered, +and alone. + +"What would I do without Mrs. Joyce?" he asked himself. "She is a +wonderful woman." Strange that in a single hour he should come to lean +upon her as upon an elder sister. + +He suddenly remembered that she had probably come away from home without +her breakfast, and that she would find not so much as a crust of bread +in his mother's kitchen, and the thought made him flush with shame. +"What a selfish fool I am," he said, and seized the speaking-tube with +intent to order the chauffeur to turn, but, reflecting that it would +take only a few minutes longer to go on, he dropped the mouth-piece and +the machine whirled steadily forward. + +As he ran up the wide steps Leonora opened the door for him, looking +very alert and capable, her face full of wonder and question. "How is +your mother?" she quickly, tenderly, asked. + +He choked in his reply. "The doctors say she is--dead, but your aunt +insists that it is only a trance." He turned away to hide his tears. "I +am hoping she's right, but I'm afraid that the doctors--" + +"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, her voice tremulous with +sympathy. + +"Yes, if you will please send Mrs. Post, the seamstress, over with me. +We have no one in the house, and Mrs. Joyce needs help." + +"I will go, too," she responded, quickly. "Please be seated while I call +Mrs. Post. Have you had breakfast?" + +"Yes; but Mrs. Joyce has not, and I'm afraid there isn't a thing in our +house to eat." + +"I'll take something over," she replied, and hastened away. + +He did not sit, he could not even compose himself to stand, but walked +up and down the hall like a leopard in its cage. Now and again a +liveried servant passed, glancing at him curiously, but he did not mind. +Mingled with other whirling emotions was a feeling of gratitude toward +Leonora, whose air of conscious superiority had given place, for the +moment, to exquisite gentleness and pity. She soon had the seamstress +and some lunch bestowed in the car. "We are ready, Mr. Ollnee," she +called. + +She said very little during their ride. Occasionally she made some +remark of general significance, or spoke to Mrs. Post upon the duties +which she might expect to meet, and for this reserve Victor was +grateful. She understood him through all his worry. Though he did not +directly study her, he was acutely conscious of her every movement. Her +unruffled precision of action, her calmness, her consideration for his +grief appealed to him as something very womanly and sweet. + +His mother's neighbors had been aroused to a staring heat of interest, +and from almost every window curious faces peered. Victor perceived and +resented their scrutiny, but Leonora seemed not to mind. She alighted +calmly and carried the basket of lunch in her own hands to the stairway, +though she permitted Victor to lead the way. + +Mrs. Joyce met them with a grave smile. "You are prompt. I am glad to +see you, Leo, and you, too, Mrs. Post. We have a long watch before us." + + * * * * * + +It was a singular and absorbing vigil to which Victor and the three +women now set themselves. While Greek and Italian hucksters lamentably +howled through the alleys and the milk-wagons and grocers' carts +clattered up the streets, they waited upon the invisible and listened +for the inaudible--so thin is the line between the prosaic and the +mystic! + +Each minute snap or crackle in the woodwork was to Mrs. Joyce a sign +that the translated spirit was struggling to manifest itself; but the +seamstress, stolid with years of toil and trouble, sat beside the bed +with calm gaze fixed upon the small, clear-cut face half hid in the +pillows, as if it mattered very little to her whether she watched with +the dead or sewed robes of velvet for the living. "It's all in the day's +work," she was accustomed to say. + +Leo, with intent to comfort Victor, told of several notable cases of +"suspension of animation" with which the literature of the Orient is +filled, and Victor took this to be, as she intended it to be, an attempt +to comfort and sustain. + +At times it seemed that he must be dreaming, so unreal was the scene and +so extraordinary was the composure of these women. They had the air of +those who await in infinite calm leisure the certain return of a friend. +Now and again Mrs. Joyce rose and looked down upon the motionless form, +and then perceiving no change resumed her seat. From time to time +intruders mounted the stairs, knocked, and, getting no reply, tramped +noisily down again. + +Victor was all for throwing things in their faces, but Mrs. Joyce +interposed. When he looked from the windows he saw grinning faces turned +upward, and waiting cameras could be seen on the walk opposite, ready to +snap every living thing that entered--or came from--the house. In truth, +Victor and his friends were enduring a state of siege. + +At last Mrs. Joyce said: "Nothing is gained by your staying here, +Victor. Why don't you go for a ride in the park? Leo, take him down to +the South Side Club." + +Victor protested. "I cannot go for a pleasure trip at such a time as +this. It is impossible!" + +She met him squarely. "Victor, death to me is merely a passing from one +plane to another. Besides, I don't think your mother has altogether left +us. But if she has, you can do no good by remaining here. Mrs. Post and +I are quite sufficient. It is a glorious spring day. I beg you to go out +and take the air. It will do you infinite good." + +"If there is nothing I can do here then I ought to resume my search for +work," he replied, sturdily. "Now that I cannot take my mother away with +me, there is nothing for me to do but to find employment here and face +our enemies as best I can." + +She opposed him there also. "Don't do that--not now. Wait. I have a +plan. I'll not go into it now, but when you come back, if there is no +change, we will all go home and I will explain." + +The young people had risen and were starting toward the door when an +imperative, long drawn-out rapping startled them. + +"That's no reporter's rap. There is authority in that," remarked Mrs. +Joyce, as she hurried to the door. + +A very tall man with a long gray beard stood there. "Good-day, madam," +he began, in a husky voice. "I hear that my friend, Mrs. Ollnee, is +sick, and I've come to see about it. I'm her friend these many years and +of her faith, and I think I can be of some assistance." + +Mrs. Joyce dimly remembered having seen him in the house before, so she +replied, very civilly, "Mrs. Ollnee lies in what seems to be deep +trance, although the doctors say that life is extinct." + +"Will you let me see her?" he inquired. "I know a great deal about these +conditions. My daughter was subject to them." + +"You may come in," she said, for his manner was gentle. "This is her +son, Victor." + +Victor was vexed by the stranger's intrusion, but could not gainsay Mrs. +Joyce. + +"My name is Beebe, Doctor Beebe," he explained. "Mrs. Ollnee has given +me many a consoling message, and I believe I've been of help to her. +You're her son, eh?" + +"I am," replied Victor, shortly. + +"You were the vein of her heart," the old man solemnly assured him. "Her +guides were forever talking of you. And now may I see her?" + +Mrs. Joyce, after a moment's hesitation, led him to the door of the room +and stood aside for him to enter. After looking down into the silent +face for a long time he asked, in stately fashion, "May I make momentary +examination of the body?" + +Mrs. Joyce glanced at Victor. "I see no objection to your feeling for +her pulse or listening for her breath." + +"I wish to lift her eyelids," he explained. + +"You must not touch her!" Victor broke forth. "Two doctors have examined +her already. Why should you?" + +"Because I, too, am one of the mystic order. I am a healer. Life's +mysteries are as an open book to me." + +As he spoke a folded paper appeared to develop out of thin air above the +bed, and fell gently upon the coverlet. + +Mrs. Joyce started. "Where did that come from?" + +The healer smiled. "From the fourth dimension." Calmly taking up the +folded paper, he opened it. "This is a message to you, young man." + +"To me?" Victor exclaimed. "From whom?" + +"It is signed 'Nelson.'" + +"Let me see it!" demanded Mrs. Joyce. + +"What does it say?" asked Victor. + +Mrs. Joyce handed it to him. "Read it for yourself. It is from your +grandfather." + +He read: "_Your mother is with us, but she will return to you for a +little while. Her work is not yet ended. Your stubborn neck must bow. +There is a great mission for you, but you must acquire wisdom. Learn +that your plans are nothing, your strength puny, your pride pitiful. We +love you, but we must chastise you. Do not attempt to leave the city._ + + "_NELSON._" + +As he stood reading this letter it seemed to Victor that a cold wind +blew upon him from the direction of his mother's body, and his blood +chilled. "This is some of your jugglery," he said, turning angrily upon +Beebe. + +"I assure you, no," replied the healer, quietly. "It came from behind +the veil. It is a veritable message from the shadow world. I may have +had something to do with its precipitation, for I, too, am psychic, but +not in any material way did I aid the guide." + +The whole affair seemed to Victor a piece of chicanery on the part of +this intruder, and he bluntly said: "I wish you'd go. You can do no good +here. You have no business here." + +Beebe seemed not to take offense. "It's natural in you young fellows to +believe only in the world of business and pleasure, but you'll be taught +the pettiness and uselessness of all that. Your guides have a work for +you to do, and the sooner you surrender to their will the better. You +are fighting an invisible but overwhelming power." + +He addressed Mrs. Joyce. "This message is conclusive. Mrs. Ollnee, our +divine instrument, has not abandoned the body. Her spirit will return to +its envelope soon." He turned back to Victor. "As for you, young sir, +there is warfare and much sorrow before you. Good-day." And with lofty +wafture of the hand he took himself from the room. + +Not till he had passed entirely out of hearing did Victor speak, then he +burst forth. "The old fraud! I wonder how many more such visitors we are +to have? I wish we could take her away from this place." + +"We might take her to my house," said Mrs. Joyce, "but I would not dare +to do so without the consent of the doctors." + +"Did you see how that man produced that message?" + +Leo replied, "It developed right out of the air." + +"It was a direct materialization," confessed Mrs. Joyce. "My own feeling +is that your grandfather sent it to assure us of your mother's return." + +Victor silently confronted them, his anxiety lost in wonder. He had been +told spiritualists were an uneducated lot, and to have these cultured +and intelligent women calmly express their acceptance of a fact so +destructive of all the laws of matter as this folded note, blinded him. +He shifted the conversation. "Isn't it horrible that I should be here +without a dollar and without a single relative? I don't even know that I +have a relation in the world. My mother told me that she had a brother +somewhere in the West, but I don't think she ever gave me his address. +There must be aunts or uncles somewhere in the East, but I have never +heard from them. It seems as though she had kept me purposely ignorant +of her family. You've been very good and kind to me, Mrs. Joyce, but I +can't ask anything more of you. I can't ask you to stay here in this +gloomy little hole. Please go home. I'll fight it out here some way +alone." + +"My dear boy," said Mrs. Joyce, "I insist on staying. I cannot leave +Lucy in her present condition, and I refuse to leave you alone. She is +coming back to you soon, and then we will plan for the future. As for +the message, you will do well to take its word to heart. It is plainly a +warning that you must not leave the city." + +"But, Mrs. Joyce, think what it involves to believe that that letter +dropped out of the air!" + +"The world has grown very vast and very mysterious to me," she solemnly +responded. "I've had even more wonderful things than that take place in +my own home." + +Mrs. Joyce saw that to go would be best, at least for the time, and +together she and Leo went down the stairway and out into the street, +leaving the stubborn youth to confront his problem alone with the +phlegmatic Mrs. Post. + + + + +VII + +THE RETURN OF THE SPIRIT + + +Youth is surrounded by mystery--nothing but magic touches him; but it is +a beautiful, natural, hopeful magic. The mists of morning rise +unaccountably, the rains of autumn fall without cause. The lightning, +the snows, the grasses appear and vanish before the child's eyes like +magical conjurations, until at last, for the most part, he accepts these +miracles as commonplace because they happen regularly and often. In a +world that is incomprehensible to the greatest philosopher, the lad of +twenty comes and goes unmoved by the essential irresolvability of +matter. + +So it had been with Victor. Under instruction he had come to speak of +electricity as a fluid, of steel as a metal, as though calling them by +these names explained them. He discussed the ether, calmly considering +it a sort of finely attenuated jelly, something which quivered to every +blow and was capable of transmitting motion instantaneously. Sound, +heat, and light were modes of motion, he had been told, and these words +satisfied him. Food taken into the body produced power, and this power +was transmitted from the stomach to the brain, and from the brain to the +muscles, and so the limbs were moved. But just how the meat and potatoes +got finally from the brain to the nerves and so into the swing of a +baseball bat did not trouble him. Why should it? + +Life and age were mere words. Death he had heard described by clergymen +as something to be prepared for, a dark and dismal event reserved for +old people, but which did occasionally catch a man in his arrogant +youth, generally in the midst of his sins. Life meant having a good +time, a succeeding in sport, business, or love. Of course certain +philosophic phrases like "continuous adjustment of the organism to the +environment" and "the change of the organism from the simple to the +complex" had stuck in his mind. But any real thought as to what these +changes actually meant had been put aside quite properly, for the +pastimes and ambitions of the student to whom study is an incidental +price for a joyous hour at play. + +But now, here in this room, beside the motionless body of his mother, he +began to think. He had a good mind. His father had left him a rich +legacy in his splendid body, but also something mental--latent to this +hour--which produced an irritating impatience with the vague and the +mysterious. He resented the intrusion of an insoluble element into his +thinking. He was repelled by the discovery that his mother was abnormal, +and from the point of view of this "ghost-room" his life at the +university was becoming sweeter, more precious, more normal every hour. + +Then, too, his afternoon of reading at the library had put into his mind +several new and all-powerful conceptions which had germinated there like +the seeds which the Indian "adept" plants in pots of sand, rising, +burgeoning, blossoming on the instant. He knew the names of some of +those men whose words might be counted on the side of his mother's +endowment, for they were famous in physical or moral science, but he had +not known before that they admitted any real belief in the kind of +things which his mother professed to perform. + +The conception that the human soul was (as the ancients believed) a +ponderable, potent entity capable of separating itself from the body, +came to him with overwhelming significance. "If mother still lives," he +said to the nurse, "where is she? What form has she taken?" + +Mrs. Post, in her own way, was capable of expressing herself. "She is +not there. So much we know. Her body is here. It is like a cloak which +she has thrown down. She herself is invisible, but she will return and +take up her body, and then you will see it grow warm again and her eyes +will light up like lamps, and she will rise and speak to you." + +Of course he did not believe this. That her body was a cast-off garment +was easy to comprehend, but that her spirit hovered near and would +re-enter its former habitation was incredible. + +All day he remained there, pacing to and fro, or sitting bent and somber +over his problem. At noon he got a little lunch for himself and for the +nurse. At two o'clock Mrs. Joyce returned to take him for a drive in her +car. But this he again refused. Thereupon she went away, promising to +look in again later in the evening. + +At dusk he stole down into the street to mail a letter to Frensen, +wherein he had written: "I am a good deal of a broken reed to-day, but I +am going to fight. I wish you were here to talk things over with me. I'm +surrounded by people who believe in the supernatural, and I need some +one like yourself to brace me up." + +This was true. He had been thrust into the midst of those who dwelt upon +the amazing and the inexplicable in human life. The city, which had been +to him so vast, so ugly, and so menacing in a material way, now became +mysterious in an entirely different way. He had now a sense of its +infinite drama, its network of purpose. There was some comfort, however, +in the thought that amid these swarms of people his own activities were +inconspicuous. To-morrow he and his mother would be forgotten in some +new sensation. + +The air was delicately fresh and wholesome, and the faces of the girls +he met had singular power to comfort him. The life of the city, sweeping +on multitudinously, refreshed him like the spray of a mighty torrent +foaming amid rocks and shadowed by lofty cañon walls. He returned to his +vigil stronger and better for this momentary communion with the crowd. + +Mrs. Joyce came again at nine and insisted on remaining for the night. +She had quite thrown off her own gloom, being perfectly certain in her +own mind that Lucy Ollnee would return with a marvelous story of her +wanderings "on the other plane." + +She began to make plans for Victor, "subject," she said, "to revision by +your 'guides.'" + +"You've said that before," he retorted, "but I have no 'guides.' I don't +believe in 'guides,' and I don't intend to be ruled by a lot of spooks." + +"Be careful," she warned. "They know your every thought and they may +resent your attitude." + +"Well, let them! What do I care? Suppose, for argument's sake, that +these Voices _do_ come from my father and my grandfather. What do they +know of this great city? They were country folks. How can they direct me +in what I am to do?" + +"They know a great deal better than any of us." + +"But how can they?" + +"Because they are free from the limitations of the flesh." + +"I don't see how that is going to help them. Their minds are just the +same as they were, aren't they?" + +"Indeed no! We grow inconceivably in knowledge and power to discern the +moment we drop the flesh." + +"I don't see why? If they are existing they're in a world so different +from this that their experience here won't help them over there, and +their experience over there is of no value to us here, and even if it +were, they could not express it." + +During their talk the night had deepened into darkness, and now, as they +reached a pause in their discussion, a measured rapping could be heard, +as though some one were striking with a small wand upon the brass rod of +the bed. + +Without knowing exactly why, a thrill very like fear passed over Victor, +but Mrs. Joyce smiled. "They are here! Don't you hear them? They want to +communicate with us." + +The youth's high heart sank. His boyish dread of darkness began to +people this death-chamber with monstrous shadows, with malignant forces. +He was very grateful for the presence of this cheery and undismayed +believer in the spirit world. Without her he would have been +panic-stricken. + +She rose to enter the bedroom, and he followed as far as the threshold. + +It was very dark in there, and for a moment he could see nothing, could +hear nothing. Then a faint whisper made itself distinctly audible just +above his head. "_Victor, my boy_," it said. + +He did not reply for a moment, and Mrs. Joyce eagerly called, "Did you +hear that whisper, Victor?" + +"Yes, I heard it," he replied. + +"It was Lucy. Was it you, Lucy?" asked Mrs. Joyce. + +"_Yes_," came the answer. + +"Are you still out of the body, Lucy?" + +"_Yes._" + +"What shall we do?" + +"_Wait._" + +"Is there anything you want to say to Victor?" + +"_No, not now. Father will speak._" + +Silence again fell, and in this pause Mrs. Joyce took the chair which +stood close beside the bed and motioned Victor to another near the foot. +He sat with thrilling nerves, moved, trembling in spite of himself. The +room was now quite dark, save for a faint patch of light on the ceiling +and another on the carpet. His mother's body could not be distinguished +from the covering of the bed. + +As they waited, a singular, cold, and aromatic breeze began to blow over +the bed from the dark corner, and then a small, brilliant, bluish flame +arose near the sleeper's head, and, floating upward to the ceiling, +vanished silently. It was like the flame of a candle twisted and leaping +in a breeze. + +"The spirit light!" exclaimed Mrs. Joyce, ecstatically. "Wasn't it +beautiful? And see, there is a hand holding it!" she whispered, as +another flame arose. "Can't you see it?" + +"I see the light, but no hand," he replied. + +"I can see more. I see the dim form of an old man outlined on the wall. +It must be your grandsire, Nelson Blodgett. Am I right?" she asked, +apparently of the dark. + +Victor could now perceive a thin, bluish, wavering shape, like a cloud +of cigar smoke, and from this a whisper seemed to come, strong and +clear. "_Yes, I have come to speak to my grandson._" + +"Don't you see him now?" asked Mrs. Joyce. + +"I see nothing," he repeated; and as he spoke the misty shape vanished. + +"But you heard the whisper, did you not?" Mrs. Joyce persisted. + +He did not reply to her, but rose and bent above his mother. "Mother, +did you speak?" he asked. + +Mrs. Joyce excitedly restrained him. "Sit down! You must not touch her +now." + +"Why not?" + +"Because it is very dangerous while the spirits are using her +organism." + +"I don't know what you mean!" he retorted, angrily. "I know that that +voice sounded exactly like my mother's voice, and I want to know--" + +"_Silence, foolish boy!_" was sternly breathed into his ear. + +A cloud passed over the sky, and as the room became perfectly black a +fluttering gray-blue cloud developed out of the darkest corner. It had +the movement of steam-wreaths, with each convolution faintly edged with +light. At one moment it resembled a handful of lines, fine as cobweb, +looping and waving, as if blown upward from below, and the next moment +it floated past like the folds of some exquisite drapery, lifting and +falling in gentle undulations. At last it rose to the height of a man, +drifted across the bed, and there hung poised over the head of the +sleeper. As it swung there for an instant Victor could plainly detect a +man's figure and face. His eyelids were closed and his features vague, +but his chin and the spread of his shoulders were clearly defined. "Who +are you?" Victor demanded, as if the apparition were an intruder. + +The answer came in a flat, toneless voice, neither male nor female in +quality. "_I am your father._" + +Victor leaped up impulsively, his hair on end with fright, and the +apparition vanished precisely as though an open door had been closed +between it and the observer. + +Again Mrs. Joyce clutched him. "Be careful! Sit down; don't stir!" + +"Somebody is playing a joke on me," he insisted, hotly. "I'm going to +strike a light." + +Again a voice, this time almost full-toned, but with a metallic +accompaniment, as though it had passed through a horn, poured into his +ear, "_You shall bow to our wisdom._" + +He braced himself to receive a blow, and answered through his set teeth: +"I will not. I am master of myself, and I don't intend to take orders +from you." + +"_You are fighting great powers. You will fail_," the voice replied. +"_Your heart is defiant. Expect punishment._" + +Victor threw out his left hand in rage. It came into contact with +something in the air, something light and hollow, which fell crashing to +the floor, and a faint, gasping, indrawn breath from the sleeper on the +bed followed it. For an instant all was silent; then Mrs. Joyce cried +out: + +"She has returned! Your mother has returned! Don't strike a light. Wait +a moment." She moved forward a little. "May I touch her?" she asked. + +Victor thought she was speaking to him, but before he could reply the +invisible one whispered: "_Yes. Approach slowly._" + +Mrs. Joyce laid her hand on the sleeper's brow. "She's warmer, Victor! +She's breathing! She has certainly come back to us." + +"_Approach_," whispered the voice in Victor's ear. + +He moved forward now, in awe and wonder, and stood beside the bed. +Slowly the room lightened, and out of the darkness the pallid face of +his mother developed like the shadowy figures on a photographic plate. +She was lying just as before, save for one hand, which Mrs. Joyce had +taken. He laid his own vital, magnetic palm upon her arm, and finding it +still cold and pulseless, called out: + +"Mother, do you hear me? It is Victor." + +Her fingers moved slightly in response, and this minute sign of life +melted his heart. He fell upon his knees beside her bed, weeping with +gratitude and joy. + + + + +VIII + +VICTOR REPAIRS HIS MOTHER'S ALTAR + + +In consenting to the removal of his mother to Mrs. Joyce's home Victor +had no intention of receding from his position. On the contrary, he +considered it merely a temporary measure--for the night, or at most for +a few days. He entered the car, thinking only of her wishes, and when he +watched her sink to sleep in her spacious and luxurious bed under Mrs. +Joyce's generous roof he couldn't but feel relieved at the thought that +she was safe and on the way back to health. It was only when he left her +and went to his own splendid chamber that his nervousness returned. + +Every day, every hour plunged him deeper into debt to these strangers; +and the fact that they were treating him like a young duke was all the +more disturbing. He fancied Carew saying of him, as he had said of +another, "Oh, he's merely one of Mrs. Joyce's pensioners," and the +thought caused him to burn with impatience. + +Nevertheless he slept, and in the morning he forgot his perplexities in +the joy of taking his breakfast with Leonora. He admired her now so +intensely that his own weakness, irresolution, and inactivity seemed +supine. He was impatient to be doing something. His hands and his brain +seemed empty. With no games, no tasks, he was disordered, lost. + +They were alone at the table, these young people, and naturally fell to +discussing Mrs. Ollnee's marvelous return to life. This led him to speak +of his own plans. "My course at Winona fitted me for nothing," he +acknowledged, bitterly. "I should have gone in for something like +mechanical engineering, but I didn't. I had some fool notion of being a +lawyer, and mother, I can see now, was all for having me a preacher of +her faith. So here I am, helpless as a blind kitten." + +It was proof of his essential charm that Leonora not only endured his +renewed harping on this harsh string, but encouraged him to continue. "I +know you chafe," she said. "I had that feeling till I began my course in +cooking, and just to assure myself that I am not entirely useless and +helpless in the world, I'm now going in for a training as a nurse." + +"A nurse!" he exclaimed. "Oh, that explains something." + +"What does it explain?" + +"I wondered how you could be so calm and so efficient yesterday." + +She seemed pleased. "Was I calm and efficient? Well, that's one result +of my study. I can at least keep my head when anything goes wrong." + +"I don't think I like your being a trained nurse," he said. + +She smiled. "Don't you? Why not?" + +"You're too fine for that," he answered, slowly. "You were made to +command, not to serve. You should be the queen of some castle." + +His frankly expressed admiration did not embarrass her. She accepted his +words as if they came from a boy. "Castles are said to be draughty and +dreadfully hard to keep in order, and besides, a queen's retainers are +always getting sick, or killed, or something, so I think I'll keep on +with my training as a nurse." + +"But there must be a whole lot of unpleasant, nasty drudgery about it." + +"Sickness isn't nice, I'll admit, but there is no place in the world +where care and sympathy mean so much." + +"You don't intend to go out and nurse among strangers?" + +"I may." + +"I bet you don't--not for long. Some fellow will come along and say 'No +more of that,' and then you'll stay home." + +"What sort of fiction do you read?" she asked, with the air of an older +sister. + +"The truthful sort. Your nursing is nothing but a fad." + +"What a wise old gray-beard you are!" + +He was nettled. "You need not take that superior tone with me. I'm two +years older than you are." + +"And ten years wiser, I suppose you would declare if you dared." + +"I didn't say that." + +"No; your tone was enough. I admit you know a great deal more about +baseball than I do." + +He winced. "That was a side-winder, all right. If I knew as much about +the carpenter's trade or the sale of dry goods as I do about 'the +national game' I'd stand a chance of earning my board." + +"Why not join the league?" she suggested. "They pay good wages, I +believe." + +He took this seriously. "I thought of that, but even if I could get into +a league team, which is hardly probable, it wouldn't lead anywhere. You +see, I'm getting up an ambition. I want to be rich and powerful." + +"Football players have always been my adoration," she responded, +heartily. "You'd look splendid in harness. Why don't you go in for +that?" + +"You may laugh at me now," he replied, bluntly. "But give me ten +years--" + +"Mercy, I'll be too old to admire even a football captain by that time." + +"You'll be only thirty-one." + +She sobered a little. "Men have the advantage. You will be young at +thirty-three, and I'll be--well, a matron. No, I'm afraid I can't wait +that long. I must find my admirable short-stop or half-back, whichever +he is to be, long before that." + +He changed his tone and appealed to her seriously. "Really now, what can +I do? So long as this persecution of my mother keeps up I'm in for a +share of it. I can't run away, for I promised I wouldn't. So I remain, +like a turkey with a string to his leg, walking round and round my +little stake. What would you do in my place? Come now, be good and tell +me." + +She responded to his appeal. "Don't be impatient. That's the first +thing. Be resigned to this luxury for a few days. The Voices will tell +you what to do. They may be planning a surprise for you." + +"All I ask of them is to quit the job and let me plan things for +myself," he slowly protested. + +The entrance of Mrs. Wood, senior, ended their dialogue, and he went +away with a sense of having failed to win Leo's respect and confidence, +as he had hoped to do. "She considers me a kid," he muttered, +discontentedly. "But she will change her mind one of these days." + +He spent the morning with his mother, but toward noon he grew restless +and went down into the library, wherein he had observed several bound +volumes of the report of The Psychical Society. He fell to reading a +long article upon "multiple personality," and followed this by the close +study of an essay on hysteria, and when Mrs. Joyce called him to lunch +he was like a man awakened from deep sleep. These articles, filled with +new and bewildering conceptions of the human organism, were after all +entirely materialistic in their outcome. Personality was not a unit, but +a combination, and the whole discussion served but to throw him into +mental confusion and dismay. + +At lunch Mrs. Joyce proposed that they all take an automobile ride round +the city and end up with a dinner at the Club; and seeing no chance for +doing anything along the line of securing employment, Victor consented +to the expedition. + +The weather was glorious, and the troubled youth's brain cleared as if +the sweet, cool, lake wind had swept away the miasma which his +experience of the darker side of the city had placed there. He +surrendered himself to the pleasure, the luxury of it recklessly. How +could he continue to brood over his future with a lovely girl by his +side and a sweet and tender spring landscape unrolling before him? + +They fairly belted the city in their run, and in the end, as they went +sweeping down the curving driveway of the lake, Mrs. Ollnee's face was +delicately pink and her eyes were bright with happiness. To her son she +seemed once more the lovely and delicate figure of his boyhood's +admiration. It seemed that her death-like trance had been a horrible +dream. + +The ride, the club-house, the dinner, were all luxurious to the point of +bewilderment to Victor, but he did not betray his uneasiness. He was +only a little more silent, a little more meditative, as he took his +place at the finely decorated table in the pavilion which faced upon the +water. He determined (for the day at least) to accept everything that +came his way. This recklessness completely dominated him as he looked +across the board at Leonora, so radiant with health and youth. + +No one would have detected anything morbid in Mrs. Ollnee. She was +prettily dressed and not in the least abnormal, and Victor was proud of +her, even though he knew that her dresses were earned by a sort of +necromancy. + +Mrs. Joyce carefully avoided any discussion of his problem, and the +dinner ended as joyfully at it began. They rode home afterward, under +the bright half moon, silent for very pleasure in the beautiful night. + +The park was full of loiterers, two and two, and on the benches under +the trees others sat, two and two together. It was mating-time for all +the world, and Victor's blood was astir as he turned toward the stately +girl whose face had driven out all others as the moon drowns out the +stars. His audacity of the morning was gone, however. He looked at her +now with a certain humble appeal. His subjugation had begun. + +At the house they all lingered for an hour on the back porch, which +looked out upon a little formal garden. Two slender trees stood there, +and their silken rustling filled in the pauses of the conversation like +the conferring voices of a distant multitude of infant seraphim. + +"Those must be cottonwoods," Victor remarked. + +"They are," replied Mrs. Joyce. "I love them. When I was a child I used +to visit a farm-house in whose yard were two tall trees of this sort, +and their murmur always filled me with mystical delight. I used to lie +in the grass under them, hour by hour, trying to imagine what they were +saying to me. Ever since I had a place of my own I've had +cottonwood-trees in my yard. I know they're a nuisance with their fuzz, +but I love their rustling." + +As she paused, the leaves uttered a pleased murmur, and Victor, +listening with a new sense of the sentiment which his hostess concealed +in a plump and unimposing form, thought he heard a sibilant whispered +word in his car. "Victor," it said, "I love you." + +He turned quickly toward his mother, but she seemed not to be listening, +and a moment later she spoke to Mrs. Joyce, uttering some pleasant +commonplace about the night. + +This whisper was so clear, so unmistakable, that Victor could not doubt +its reality. The question was which of the women had spoken it. He had a +foolish wish to believe that Leo had uttered it. He listened again, but +heard nothing. + +As he was helping his mother slowly up the stairs to her room, he said: +"This is all very beautiful, mother, but I can't enjoy it as I ought. I +feel like a fraud every time I see Mrs. Joyce handing out one of those +big bills. I suppose she can afford it, but I can't. We must get back to +the old place, or to some new place, and live on our own resources." + +"We can't do that till morning, dear. Let us wait until The Voices +speak. They have been silent to-day. Perhaps they will advise us +to-morrow." + +Here was the place to tell her of the whispers he had heard, but he +could not bring himself to do so. + +She went on: "I wish you would repair my table, your grandfather's +table, as you promised, Victor. I don't know why, but it helps me. But +you must be careful not to use any metal about it." + +"Why not?" + +"Oh, that's another one of the mysteries. They seem to object to metal." + +"Well, I'll get at it to-morrow," he said, and kissing her good-night, +went to his own room. + +He was awake and dressed before six the next morning, and leaving a +note for Mrs. Joyce, set out for California Avenue. On the way he +dropped into a cheap café and got a breakfast which cost him twenty +cents. He enjoyed this keenly, because, as he said, it was in his class +and was paid for out of the money his mother had given him for his +trophy. + +All was quiet at the flat, and setting to work on the table with glue +and stout cord, he soon had it on its legs. Looking down upon it as a +completed job, he marveled at the reverence which his mother seemed to +have for it, and his mind reverted to the astounding phenomena which he +himself had witnessed over its top. + +Picking up one of the folded slates, he opened it with intent to see if +it held any hidden springs or false surfaces. Out fluttered a folded +paper. This he snatched up and studied with interest. It was a peculiar +sort of parchment, veined like a bit of corn-husk, and on it, written in +delicate and beautiful script, were these words: "_Go to Room 70, +Harwood Bldg., to-day. Danger threatens. Altair._" + +"I wonder who Altair is," he mused, staring at the bit of paper, "and +what is the danger that threatens?" + +While still he stood debating whether to go down-town or to warn his +mother, a heavy step on the stairs announced a visitor. The man (for it +was plainly the tread of a man, and a fat man) knocked on the door, but +did not pause for reply. "Are you there, Lucy?" he called, and came in. + +Victor faced him with instant resentment of this familiarity. "Who are +you? What do you want here?" he demanded. + +The other, a tall, clumsy, broad-faced individual in costly clothing, +seemed surprised and a little alarmed. "I came to see Mrs. Ollnee," he +explained. "Who are you?" + +"I am her son--and I want to know how you dare to push into my mother's +house like this!" + +"My name is Pettus," he answered, pacifically. "No doubt you've heard +your mother speak of me." + +"Oh yes," responded the youth. "I heard Mr. Carew speak of you. You're +president of that Transportation Company they're all so wild about." + +A shade of apprehension passed over Pettus's fat, ugly face. "Carew! +You've seen him? I suppose he gave me a bad name? But never mind--where +will I find your mother?" + +Victor didn't like the man, and he remained silent till Pettus repeated +his question, then he answered, "I can't tell you where my mother is." + +"You mean you won't!" + +"Well, yes, that's what I do mean." + +Pettus turned away. "I can find her without your aid." + +"What do you want with her?" + +"I want a sitting at once!" + +"You keep away from her!" Victor blazed out. "I don't want her sitting +for you. She's mixed up too deeply in your affairs already. Carew +said--" + +"I don't care what Carew said--and I don't care whether you approve of +your mother's sitting for me or not. Her controls will decide that +question." + +He tramped out and down the stairway, and from the window Victor saw him +whirl away in his automobile. "That man's a scoundrel and a slob," he +said; "a greasy old slob. I will not have my mother sitting for such +people. Can't I head him off somehow?" + +With sudden resolution he ran down the stairway and over to the +telephone booth on the corner. He got the butler at once, and was deeply +relieved to find that his mother was out with Mrs. Joyce. "He can't see +her before I do," he concluded, as he hung up the receiver. "I'll go +over there and wait for her to return." + +As he neared the house he met Leo coming out with some letters in her +hand, and with the swift resiliency of youth, he asked if he might not +walk with her. + +"Certainly," she said; "I want to talk with you about your plans." + +"I haven't any plans," he said. + +"What have you been doing this morning?" + +He hesitated a moment, then answered: "I've been mending that old +table--I suppose you heard about my smashing it?" + +"Yes; and it seemed a very childish thing to do." + +"If you knew how I hate that business and everything connected with it!" + +"I do, and it seems absurd to me. Your mother's life is very wonderful +and very beautiful to me." + +He changed the subject. "Did that man Pettus call just now?" + +"Yes." + +"He's a scoundrel--that chap. A four-flusher." + +"What makes you think that?" + +"Well, the very looks of the man." + +She laughed. "He isn't pretty, but he's a very decent citizen--and has a +lovely wife and two daughters." + +"He's a slob--his face gives him away--and besides, Mr. Carew the other +night--" + +"I know," she interrupted; "Mr. Carew is sure we're all going to be +ruined by your mother and the Universal Transportation Company." + +"I hope you haven't put your money into anything Pettus has control of?" + +"Oh, don't let's talk business on a morning like this. It's +criminal--let's talk about trees and birds and flowers." She might have +added "and love," for when youth and springtime meet, even on a city +boulevard, love is the most important subject in the encyclopedia of +life. So they walked and talked and jested in the way of young men and +maidens, and Victor talked of himself, finding his life-history vastly +absorbing when discussed by a tall girl with a splendid profile and a +cultivated voice. He watched her buy her stamps at the drug-store, +finding in her every movement something adorable. The poise of her bust +and her fine head appealed to him with power; but her humor, her cool, +clear gaze, checked the crude compliments which he was moved to utter. +She could not be addressed as he had been accustomed to address his girl +classmates at Winona. + +This walk completed the severance of the ties which bound him to the +university. His desire to return to his games weakened. His ambition to +shine as an athlete faded. He wished to prove to this proud girl that he +was neither boy nor dreamer, and that he was competent to take care of +himself and his mother as well. + +As they were re-entering the house, he said: "Don't utter a word of what +I've told you. I'm going to test whether my mother has the power to read +my mind or not." + +"I understand," she returned, "and I'm glad you're going to share in our +séance to-night." + +He frowned. "Don't say 'séance.' I hate that word." + +She laughed. "Aren't you fierce! But I'll respect your prejudices so far +as an utterly unprejudiced person can." + +"Do you call yourself an unprejudiced person?" + +"I try to be." + +"But you're not. You have a prejudice against me," he insisted, forcing +the personal note. + +"Oh, you're quite mistaken," she replied; "in fact I think you're rather +nice--for a boy." And she went away, leaving him to fume under this +indignity. + +Mrs. Joyce and Mrs. Ollnee came in soon afterward, and they all took tea +together quite as casually as if they were not on the edge of something +very thrilling and profoundly mysterious. Mrs. Joyce politely asked +Victor what he had been doing, but his answers were evasive. He made no +mention of Pettus, though he was burning with desire to warn her against +him. + +Soon afterward they went to his mother's room, and once safely inside +the door he turned upon her. "Mother, are you going to sit for Pettus +to-night?" + +"I expect him, but I'm not sitting for him specially." + +"I won't have him in the circle! He is a slimy old beast. I hate +him--and Mr. Carew warned us against him. He wasn't guessing, mother, he +_knows_ that this old four-flusher is up to some deviltry. How did he +find you?" + +"He called us up." + +"I simply will not have him sit with you again, and you must not advise +any one to put a cent into his concern. Where are you going to have this +performance?" + +"I thought of sitting here, but I need the old table. You mended it, +didn't you?" + +"Yes, I mended it." + +"And you had a message from _Altair_?" + +"How did you learn that?" + +"I felt it," she answered, gravely. "She said danger threatened--did she +tell you what the danger was?" + +"No; who is _Altair_ supposed to be?" + +"She is a very pure and high spirit--a girl of wonderful beauty--so they +say. I have never seen her myself--she told me to-day that she would +watch over you." + +At this moment a whisper was heard in the air just above her head. + +"_Lucy!_" + +"Yes, father." + +"_Take the boy--sit--the old place. Leave Pettus out._" + +"Yes, father." + +"_I will be there. Pettus is under investigation._" + +"Much obliged," said Victor; and then he heard close to his ear a faint +whisper: "_Victor, you shall see me--Altair._" + +He was staring straight at his mother's lips at the moment, and yet he +was unable to detect any visible part in the production of the voice. +She explained the whisper. "Altair is smiling at you. She says she will +be with us to-night." + +All this was very shocking to Victor. Utterly disconcerted and unable to +confront her at the moment, he left the room. The whole problem of her +mental condition, the central kernel of her philosophy was involved in +that one whisper. To solve that was to solve it all. It was not so much +a question of how she did it, it was a question of her right to deceive +him. + +He seized the time between tea and dinner to return to the library. For +an hour he dug into the spongy soil of metaphysics, and it happened that +he fell at last upon the Crookes and Zöllner experiments (quoted at +greater length in a volume of collected experience) and found there +clear and direct testimony as to the mind's mastery of matter. There was +abundant evidence of the handling of fire by the medium Home, and +Slade's ability to float in the air was attested by well-known +witnesses, but beyond this and closer to his own day, he came upon a +detailed study of an Italian psychic with her "supernumerary hands," a +story which should have made the materialization of a letter seem very +simple. But it did not. All the testimony of these great men, abundant +as it was, slid from his mind as harmlessly as water from oiled silk. +Apparently, it failed to alter the texture of his thought in the +slightest degree. His world was the world of youth, the good old +wholesome, stable world, and he refused to be convinced. + +At dinner he was angered, in spite of Leo's presence, by his mother's +returning confidence and ease of manner. His own position had been +weakened, he felt, by his acquiescence in the sitting. His desire to +satisfy himself, to solve his mother's mystery, had led him to abandon +his stern resolution--and he regretted it. He ate sparingly and took no +wine, being resolved to retain a perfectly clear head for the evening's +experiment. He was grateful to Leo for keeping the talk on subjects of +general interest, even though he had little part in it, and his liking +for her deepened. + +As he neared the test he began to sharply realize that for the first +time in all his life he was about to take part in one of his mother's +hated "performances," and his breath was troubled by the excitement of +it. "I will make this test conclusive," he said to himself, and his jaw +squared. "There will be no nonsense to-night." + +The papers of the day had remained free from any further allusion to +"the Spiritual Blood-Suckers," and it really seemed as if the cloud +might be lifting, and this consideration made his participation in the +sitting all the more like a return to a lower and less defensible +position. He was irritated by the methodical action with which his +mother proceeded to set the stage for her farce. Wood, who seemed quite +at home, assisted in these preparations, leaving Victor leaning in +sullen silence against the wall. + +Mrs. Joyce took a seat directly opposite the little psychic, Wood sat at +her left, while Victor, with Leo at his right, completed the little +crescent. Mrs. Ollnee, with her small, battered table before her, faced +them across its top. Victor made no objection to this arrangement, but +kept an alert eye on every movement. He watched her closely. She first +breathed into one of the horns and put it beside her, then held one of +the slates between her palms for a little time. "I hope this will be +illuminated to-night," she said. + +This remark gave Victor a twinge of disgust and bewildered pain. "She is +too little and sweet and fine to be the high priest of such jugglery," +he thought, but did not cease his watchful attention, even for an +instant. + +The locking of the door, the turning out of the light and the taking +hands in the good old traditional way all irritated and well-nigh +estranged him. Why should his life be thrown into the midst of such +cheap and ill-odored drama? "This shall never happen again," he vowed, +beneath his breath. + +There was not much talk during the first half-hour, for the reason that +Victor was too self-accusing to talk, and the others were too solemn and +too eager for results to enter upon general conversation. For the most +part, they spoke in low voices and waited and listened. + +The first indication of anything unusual, aside from the tapping, was a +breeze, a deathly cold wind, which began to blow faintly over the table +from his mother, bearing a peculiar perfume (an odor like that from +some Oriental rug), which grew in power till each of the sitters +remarked upon it. This current of air continued so long and so +uninterruptedly that Victor began to wonder. Could it be his mother's +breath? If she were not fraudulently producing it, then it must be that +some window had been opened. The network of her deceit--if it was +deceit--thickened. + +Mrs. Joyce then said, in a low voice: "We are to have celestial visitors +to-night. That is the wind which accompanies the astral forms." + +"Yes," said Leo, "and that perfume always accompanies Altair. Are we to +see Altair?" she softly asked. + +A sibilant whisper replied, "_Yes, soon._" + +A moment later, another and distinctly different voice called softly, +"_My son._" + +"Who is it?" asked Victor. + +"_Your father._" + +"What have you to say to me?" + +"_The power of the mind is limitless_," the whispered voice replied. +"_Matter, the strongest steel, is but a form of motion._" + +"What is all that to me?" asked Victor. + +"_As you think so you will be. Be strong and constant._" + +The vagueness of all this increased Victor's irritation. "What about +Pettus?" + +The voice hesitated, weakened a little. "_I can't tell--not now--I will +ask._" + +What followed did not come clearly and consecutively to Victor, for Mrs. +Joyce (who was expert in hearing and reporting the whispers) repeated +each sentence or the substance of it to him. But he himself heard a +considerable part of it. In the very midst of a sentence the voice +stopped. It was as if a wire had been cut, or the receiver hung up; the +silence was like death itself. + +Victor called out to his mother: "Can you hear The Voices, mother? They +seem to come from where you are." + +She did not reply, and Mrs. Joyce explained. "She is gone." + +Again the cold breeze set in, with a strong, steady swell, and with it +was borne a low, humming note, which grew in volume and depth till it +resembled the roaring rush of a November blast through the branches of +an oak. It became awesome at last, with its majesty of moaning song, and +saddening with its somber suggestion of autumn and of death. It opened +the shabby little room upon an empty and limitless space, upon an +infinite and vacant and obscure desert wherein night and storms +contended. It died away at last, leaving the air chill and pulseless, +and the chamber darker than before. + +Before any comment could be made upon this astounding phenomenon, Victor +perceived a faint glow of phosphorus upon the table. It increased in +brilliancy till it presented a clear-cut square of some greenish +glowing substance, and then a large hand in a ruffled sleeve appeared +above it as if in the act of writing. + +"It is Watts," whispered Leo. "He is writing for us." + +Bending forward, Victor was able to read this message outlined in dark +script on the glowing surface of what seemed to be the slate: "_The +dreams of to-day are the realities of to-morrow._" These words faded and +again the shadowy hand swept over the table, and this companion sentence +followed: "_The realities of to-day will be but the half-truths or the +gross errors of the future._ + + "_WATTS._" + +Victor was strongly tempted to clutch this hand, but fear of something +unpleasant prevented him from doing so. He was sick with apprehension, +with dread of what might happen next. A feeling of guilt, of remorse, +came upon him. "I am to blame for this!" he thought, and was on the +point of rising and calling for the lights, when something happened +which changed not merely his feeling at the moment, but the whole course +of his life, so incredible, so destructive of all physical laws, of all +his scientific training was the phenomenon. A hand, large and shapely, +took up the glowing slate and held it like a lamp to his mother's face, +so that all might see her. She sat with hands outspread upon the table, +her head thrown back, her eyes closed. Her arms extended in rigid lines. +It seemed that the invisible ones desired to prove to Victor that his +mother could not and was not holding the slate. + +Swift as light the glowing mirror disappeared, and then, as if through a +window opened in the air before his eyes, Victor perceived a strange +face confronting him, the face of a girl with deep and tender eyes, +incredibly beautiful. Her eyes were in shadow, but the pure oval of her +cheeks, the dainty grace of her chin, the broad, full brow and something +ineffably pure in the faintly happy smile, stopped his breath with awe. +He forgot his mother, his problems, his doubts, in study of the +unearthly beauty of this vision. + +Mrs. Joyce whispered in ecstasy, "It is Altair!" + +The angelic lips parted, and a low voice, so gentle it was like the +murmur of a leaf, replied, "_Yes, it is Altair._" And to Victor her +voice was of exquisite delicacy. "_Believe, be faithful._" + +No one breathed. It was as if they had been permitted to gaze upon one +of heaven's angelic choir. How came she there? Who was she? Before these +questions could be framed she disappeared, silently as a bubble on the +water, leaving behind only that delicious, subtle, unaccountable odor as +of tropic fruits and unknown flowers. + +Leo, breathing a sigh of sad ecstasy, exclaimed: "Is she not beautiful? +Never has she shown herself more glorious than to-night." + +Victor was like one drugged and dreaming. There was no question of his +mother's honesty in his mind. He did not relate the vision to her, and +he winced with pain as Leo spoke. He wished to recall the face, to hear +that whisper again. The effect upon him was enormous, instant, +unfolding. In all his life nothing mystic, nothing to disturb or rouse +his imagination had hitherto come to him, and now this transcendent +marvel, this face born of the invisible and intangible essence of the +air, beat down his self-assurance and destroyed his smug conception of +the universe. He lost sight of his hypothesis and accepted Altair for +what she seemed, a gloriously beautiful soul of another world, a world +of purity and light and love. + +He remained silent as Mrs. Joyce rose and went to his mother. He was +still in his seat when they turned up the lights. Leo spoke to him, but +he did not answer. Strange transformation! At the moment her voice +jarred upon him. She seemed commonplace, prosaic, in contrast with the +woman who had looked upon him from the luminous shadow. + +Gradually the walls he hated, the entangling relationship he feared, +returned upon him; and though he realized something of the revealing +character of his reticence, he had not the will to break it. He watched +his mother return to her normal self with such detachment that she at +last became aware of it and lifted her feeble hands in search of him. +"Victor, come to me!" she pleaded. + +He went to her then, still in a daze, and to her question, "Did your +father come?" he replied, brokenly, "A voice came, but I can't talk +about that now--I must go out into the air." + +All perceived the tumult--the strange psychic condition into which he +had been thrown, and were considerate enough to refrain from pressing +him with inquiry. "He has been touched by 'the power,'" whispered Mrs. +Joyce to Leo. "He's under conviction." + +The cool, clear air and the material rush of the city throbbing in upon +his brain restored the youth to something like his normal self; but he +remained silent and distraught all the way home. + +As they entered the hall Leo glanced at his face with unsmiling, +penetrating intensity, and in that moment perceived that Victor the boy +had given place to Victor the man. She experienced a swift change of +relationship, and a pang of jealousy shot through her heart. She +realized that the wondrous spirit face was the power that had so wrought +upon and transformed him. She, too, had thrilled to the mystical beauty +of the phantom, and she had read in the tremulous lips the hesitating +whisper, a love for the young mortal, which had troubled her at the +moment, and which became more serious to her now. + +They said good-night as strangers; he absorbed, absent-minded; she +resentful and a little hurt. + +To his mother, when they were alone in her room, he said, +haltingly: "Mother, you must forgive me. I thought you did those +things--unconsciously cheating--but now--I--give it up. I believe in you +absolutely." + +She raised her eyes to his wet with happy tears. "My son! My splendid +boy!" she said, and in her voice was song. + + + + +IX + +THE LAW'S DELAY + + +"Belief," says the wise man, "is not a matter of evidence; it is a habit +of mind." And notwithstanding his confession of inward transformation, +Victor found doubt still hidden deep in his brain when he woke the +following morning. His conviction had been temporary. + +In his musing upon Altair he began to remember some very curious +details. He recalled that at first glance he had inwardly exclaimed, +"How much she looks like Leo!" The lips and chin were similar, only +sadder, sweeter--and the poise of the head was like hers also. But the +brow and the eyes were more like his mother's. It was as though Altair +were at once the heavenly sister of Leonora and the spirit daughter of +his mother, and the love which lay on the tremulous lips, the deep, +serious eyes, moved him still with almost undiminished power. He was +eager to see the celestial face again. + +He was less clear about his own physical condition at the time. He +remembered feeling weak and chilled, as though some of his own vitality +had gone out of his blood in the attempt to warm that unaccountable +being into life. He recalled his parting with his mother as if it were +the incident in a painful dream. It was all impossible, incredible, and +yet--it happened! + +His morning mood was eager and searching. He was quite ready to see Leo, +ready to talk with her of all that had taken place. Hitherto he had +avoided any detailed story of his mother's evocations, but now he was +violently curious to know whether or no she had ever performed these +particular rites before. He wished to hear all that Leo had to say, and +he was deeply disappointed when neither she nor his hostess appeared at +the breakfast table. + +He finished his meal hurriedly (as soon as it became evident that he was +to be alone), and instead of going down-town returned to the library to +re-read the famous story of Sir William Crookes and "Katie King"--every +word of which had acquired new meaning to him. He thrilled now to the +calm, bald narrative, reading between the lines the inner story of the +great scientist's bewildered love for the stainless vision which he had +evoked but could not endow with lasting life. + +The boy dwelt upon the scene of their parting with peculiar pain, +perceiving in it new pathos. A throb of sorrow came into his throat. Was +Altair but a transitory flower of the dark--aloof, intangible, and sad? +What meant the wistful sweetness of her smile? Was she unhappy in the +icy realms from which she came? Did she long for human companionship? +Would she come again? He found himself longing for the night and another +sitting with his mother. He felt vaguely the disappointment which comes +to those who listen to the messages of these celestial apparitions, so +commonplace, so vaporous, so inane. "Katie King," surpassing all earthly +women in her physical loveliness, brought no sentence of intellectual +distinction from the mysterious void which was her home. + +In the midst of this astounding narrative he heard Leo's voice in the +hall, and with a guilty start put his book away and rose to meet her, +remembering that he had not treated her very well after the sitting, +though he could not recall the precise reason for it. Gradually her +step, the sound of her voice, reasserted their charm, and he returned to +the breakfast-room like a boy who has been sullen and knows it, but +hopes to be forgiven. + +His shamefaced entrance disarmed her resentment, and in her merry smile +of greeting the dream face faded away. The marvelous vision of the night +lost its dominion over him, and he became again the son of the morning. + +The girl openly mocked him. "You look pale and sheepish. What have you +been doing?" + +"I've been reading about 'Katie King.' Do you believe that story?" + +"We must believe it when a man like Sir William Crookes tells it. Do you +believe what you saw and heard last night?" + +"No, I don't. How can I?" + +"You seemed to believe in the vision of Altair," she persisted, eying +him archly. "You were carried away by her wonderful beauty. I don't +blame you. Her loveliness is beyond anything on this earth. A vision +like that of sublimated womanhood, purified of all its dross, is very +hard on us mortals. Altair doesn't find it necessary to eat eggs and +toast, as I am doing this minute. I'm a horribly vulgar and common +creature I know, and I ought to apologize, but I won't. I like being a +normal human being, and if you don't like to see me eat you may go +away." + +"I like nothing better than to see you eat, and I've just had a couple +of eggs myself. I was hoping all the time you would come down and join +me, but you didn't." + +"I didn't get to sleep as usual last night," she confessed, with a +change of tone. "Altair came to me and kept me stirred up till nearly +two o'clock." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean she hung about my bed, tapping and sighing incessantly for what +seemed like hours." + +"Could you see her?" + +"Part of the time. Finally I turned up the light and got rid of her." + +He sat in silence for a few moments, then burst out wildly: "Are we all +going crazy together? When I hear you talk like that it makes me angry, +and it makes me sad. I never met such people before. What does it all +mean? Seems like everybody around my mother is bitten by this +ghost-bug." + +"You, too," she accused. "You caught a little of the madness last +night." + +"I did, I admit it; but I'm going to throw it off. I won't have any more +of it." + +"Is your curiosity satisfied?" + +"No, it is not; but I'm not going to desert the good old sunny world I +know for the kind of windy graveyard we faced last night. Even the eyes +of Altair were sad. Did you notice it?" + +"Yes, I did," she admitted. "And that's one of the things I can't +understand. The spirits all _say_ they are happy, but they _look_ +wistful, and their voices indicate that they are filled with longing to +return." + +"I'm going to break out of this circle of my mother's converts," he +passionately declared. "I've got to do it, or 'll get all twisted out of +shape like the rest of you. I'm going to try again to-day to reach some +man who has never heard of a psychic. I'm going to some big mill and +apply for manual labor. There's something uncanny in the way I'm kept +circling around mother's cranky patrons. I'll get batty in the steeple +if I don't get help. Let's go out for a walk in the park. Let's forget +we're immortal souls for an hour or two. I want to see a tree. Let's go +to the ball game--and to the theater to-night--that'll take all the +money I have left, and leave me just square with the world, so I can +jump into the lake to-morrow without anybody else's money in my pocket. +Come, what do you say?" + +She perceived something more than humor in his noisy declamation, and +accepted his challenge. "I'll go you," she slangily replied; "just wait +till I get my walking-togs on." + +"You've got to hurry," he warned. "I'm going to get out of this house +before anything crazy happens to me. Meet me down at the corner of the +boulevard." + +He left the room with intent to avoid both his mother and Mrs. Joyce. At +the moment he wished to remove himself from any further argument, and +his longing for the trees and the park was a genuine reaction from his +long stress of the supernatural. "My search for a job can go over till +to-morrow," he decided. + +He was sufficiently recovered from his bewilderment, his pain of the +night before, to glow with pleasure as he saw Leonora swinging along +toward him. "She carries herself well," he said. + +She was dressed in a light-gray skirt and jacket, and her white hat had +a long, gray quill which waved back over the rim, giving her the jaunty +air of a yacht under reefed sail. Her face was brilliant with color, +and her eyes were alight with humor. "Aunt Louise wanted to know where +we were going, and I said 'St. Joe, Michigan.'" + +He pretended not to see the joke. "St. Joe; why St. Joe?" + +As she caught his stride she demurely answered, "If you don't know, it's +not for me to explain." + +"I suppose people _do_ go to St. Joe for other purposes than marriage?" + +"It is possible, but they never get into the newspapers. We only hear of +the young things who beat their angry parents by just one boat." She +changed her tone. "Where _shall_ we go?" + +"I don't object to St. Joe." + +She pretended to be shocked. "How sudden you are! We've only known each +other two days." + +"Three. However, we might make it a trial marriage. You could put me on +probation." + +"After your display of inconstancy last night I wouldn't trust you even +for a probationary engagement." + +He harked back to the vision of Altair. "She _was_ beautiful, wasn't +she? Did she really exist, or was it merely some sort of hallucination?" + +"I thought you weren't going to discuss these subjects?" + +He assented instantly. "Quite right. Give me a crack on the ear every +time I break out. I wish I were a robin. See that chap on the lawn! His +clothes grow of themselves, and as for food, all he has to do is to tap +on the ground, and out pops a worm." + +"I prefer roast beef and asparagus tips; and as for wearing the same +feathers all the time--horrible!" + +In such wise they talked, touching lightly on a hundred trivial +subjects, yet carrying the remembrance of Altair as an undertone to +every word. They walked up the boulevard to the Midway, then through the +park to the lagoon, and the sight of the water cheered Victor. "A boat!" +he cried. "Us for a boat-ride." + +He was a skilled and powerful oarsman (she had never seen his equal), +and his bared arms, the roll of his splendid muscles, were a delight to +her eyes. + +He exulted as the water cried out under the keel. "This is what I +needed. I've been without a chance to kill something, or beat somebody, +for three or four days. I am cracking for lack of exercise. Walking +isn't exercise." + +The heavy boat, under his sweeping strokes, cut through the water like a +canoe, and the girl on the stern seat watched him with dreaming eyes, +her air of patronization lost in contemplation of his skill, her hands +on the tiller-rope, her attitude of ease and irresponsibility typifying +the American woman, just as his intense and driving action represented +the American man. + +He traversed the entire length of the lagoon before his need of +muscular activity was met; then they drifted, exclaiming with pleasure +over the charming vistas which every turn of their boat afforded. The +catbirds were singing in the willows, and the banks were white and +yellow with flowering shrubs, and over all the clear sunlight fell in +cascades of gold. The wind was from the lake, cool but not chill; and +every leaf glistened as if newly burnished. The day was perfect spring, +and under its influence the two beings, young and ardent, inclined +irresistibly toward each other. + +The girl, who, up to this moment, had been indifferent, not so say +scornful, of the advances of men, gave herself up to the pleasure which +the companionship of this young giant afforded her. Altair and all that +she represented were very far and faint, dimmed, burned away into +nothingness by the vivid sun of this entrancing day. + +For hours they explored the lagoons, talking nonsense, the divine +nonsense of youth, or sitting idly and gazing at each other with the +new-born frankness of lovers. At last she said, "I'm hungry, aren't +you?" + +"As a wolf," he responded. + +"Shall we go home?" + +"Home? I have no home. No, let's camp right here in the park. There must +be a lunch counter somewhere." + +"There's something better than a lunch counter. There's the German +Building." + +"I'll stand you for a beer and sandwich," he shouted. "Show it to me." + +Returning the boat to the landing, he paid his fee with a satisfied +smile. "I never gave up forty-five cents with better grace in my life," +he said to her. + +She led the way to the café in the German Building, and there they ate +and drank in modest fashion, while he expressed his gratitude for her +guidance. "I owe you all I've got," he declared, displaying his little +handful of money. "You've shown me another side of the city's life. It +isn't so bad, this wild life of Chicago. We'll come again. _Will_ you +come again?" He bent a frankly pleading gaze upon her. + +"Indeed I will. I love it here; but Aunt Louise prefers to ride about in +the car. However, you haven't seen all the park yet. You must see the +prairies at the south end, and the Spanish caravels, the convent--all +the marine side of it. Let's walk down the beach." + +He was glad to accept her guidance in this matter also, and they set off +down the curving walk, slowly, as if they found each new rood of ground +more enjoyable than that already traversed. He had a feeling that +nothing so sweet, so perfect as this day's companionship could ever +again come to him, and he lingered over each view as if determined to +extract its every possible phase of enjoyment, and when two paths +presented themselves, he shamelessly advised taking the longer one. So +they came to The Old Convent, to The Caravels in The South Lagoon, and +at last to The Sand Hills. This was the climax of their walk. These +dunes were so different from anything he had ever seen, so remote, so +suggestive, and so flooded with the light of his own growing romance, +that they seemed of another and strangely beautiful land. + +Taking seats upon the grass in the sunlight, which was just warm enough +to be delightful, they absorbed the scene in silence, entranced by the +sails, the far water-line, the sun, the wind, and the fluting of the +birds. The few people who drifted by were unimportant as shadows; and +Leo took no thought of time till a cloud crossed the sun and the wind +felt suddenly chill; then she rose. "We must go home, or they'll +certainly think we've gone to St. Joe." + +He returned to his jocular mood. "If I had ten dollars I'd ask you 'why +not?'" + +"I wouldn't consent if you had a million." + +He pretended to be astonished. "You would not? Why?" + +"Because I believe in the pomp and circumstance of matrimony. No runaway +marriages for me! When I marry, it shall be in a vast cathedral, with a +mighty organ thundering and a long procession of awed and shivering +brides-maids." + +"I'm sorry your tastes run in that way. I don't, at this time, feel able +to gratify them." + +"Nobody asked you, sir," she said; then looking about her, she sighed +deeply. "I hate to leave this place. It seems as though it could never +be so beautiful again. Haven't we had a heavenly day?" + +"I dread going back to the town, for then my needs and all my life +problems will swarm." + +"I wish I could help you," she said, sincerely. + +"You can," he earnestly assured her. "If you will only come out here +with me now and again I shall be able to stand a whole lot of 'grief.'" + +They were walking westward at the moment, past the golf-course, and a +sense of uneasiness filled the girl's heart. She looked up at him with a +grave face. "I don't know why, but I feel an impulse to hurry. I feel as +though we ought to get home as quickly as possible. They may be worried +about us." + +He did not share her apprehension. "I don't think they'll suffer." + +"Something urges me to run," she repeated. "We must go directly home." + +He quickened his step with hers, responding to the anxiety which had +come into her tone, but experiencing nothing of it in his heart. What he +did feel was the certainty that his day of careless ease was over. The +sky seemed suddenly to have lost its brightness. The birds had fallen +silent. The crowds of people seemed less festive. The world of work-worn +men rolled back upon them in a noisy flood as they caught a car and +went speeding down the squalid avenue. Leo's anxiety seemed to increase +rather than to lessen as they neared her home. "There's been some +accident!" she insisted. "I can't tell what it is, but I think your +mother has been hurt." + +He could not believe that anything serious had happened to his mother; +but when they alighted to walk across the boulevard he was quite as +eager to reach the house as she. + +The man at the door wore an expression of well-governed concern, which +led Leo to sharply ask: "What is it, Ferguson? What has happened?" + +"They have taken her, Miss." + +"Taken? Who? What? Who have taken her?" + +"The bailiff, Miss." + +"The bailiff?" + +"Yes, Miss, the officers came with a warrant just as Mrs. Ollnee was +sitting down to luncheon, and it was ever as much as she could do to get +them to wait till she had finished. Mrs. Joyce has gone with her." + +Leo confronted Victor with large eyes. "That was the precise moment when +I had my sensation of alarm." + +Victor was white and rigid with indignation. "Where did they take her?" + +"To the Bond Street Station, sir. You are to come at once." + +"How do I get there?" + +"I'll show you," volunteered Leo. "Is the electric out, Ferguson?" + +"I don't think so, Miss." + +"Order it around at once." She turned to Victor. "Don't worry. Aunt +Louise is not easily rattled. She is able to command all the help that +is necessary. She will have her own lawyer and will see that everything +is done to shield your mother from harm." + +He was aching with remorseful fear. "Oh, if we had not stayed so long," +he groaned, all the beauty and charm of the morning swept away by a wave +of guilt. "Only think! I left the house without a word of greeting to +her! Doesn't it show that there is no peace or security for either of us +so long as we remain here? I have tried twice to get away from this, and +now--" + +The electric carriage came smoothly to the door, and Leo, dismissing the +driver, motioned Victor to enter. "I'll drive," she said; and they swept +out of the gate and down the boulevard as if, by a wafture of the hand, +this young girl had invoked the aid of an Oriental magician. + +The run was easy and swift, till they reached the crowded cross-street +which led westward into the city deeps; and as the carts thickened and +coarse and vicious humanity began to swarm Victor was moved to assert +the man's prerogative. He resented the admiring glances which the +loafers addressed to his companion, and a feeling of awkward +helplessness came upon him. "I wish you'd let me run this car," he said, +morosely. + +Slowly they felt their way to the west, straight on toward a great +railway depot, with Leo deftly winding her way amid trucks and express +wagons, darting past clanging street-cars, and plowing through swarms of +nondescript men and slattern women, till at last she halted on a +crossing, and, leaning from the window, inquired of the police officer +the way to the Bond Street Station. + +"Right around the corner, Miss," he replied, with a smile, pointing the +way with his club. + +She turned up a narrow alley which ran parallel with the great domed +shed of the railway, and drew up before an ugly doorway in a grimy brick +building of depressing architecture. + +Victor alighted with a full realization of having left heaven for a +filthy, squalid hell. The clang and hiss of engines in the shed, the jar +of heavy trucks, the cries of venders, the grind and howl of cars, the +sodden stream of humankind, deafened and appalled him. Nevertheless, he +took the lead into the gloomy anteroom of the station, which was half +filled with officers in uniform escorting or placidly watching +dull-hued, depressed, and unkempt men and women in arrest. + +On inquiry of another officer, they were directed to the door of a long +hall, which was in effect a tunnel. "You'll find your party in the +court-room," the officer said. + +Victor led the way through this battered hallway, and at the end of it +came into a large, bare room lighted with dusty windows on the north. It +was in effect a hall divided in halves by an open railing. In the +eastern end of the chamber the judge was seated surrounded by his clerks +examining a little group of silent men. In the western half of the room, +outside the railing, sat a somber and motley assemblage of negroes, +Italians, and Greeks, mostly young, each presenting a savage and sullen +face. In the midst of such a throng of miscreated beings Leo seemed of +angelic loveliness and purity. + +Before the crowd became aware of her, the keen-eyed girl had discovered +the objects of their search. "There they are," she whispered, pointing +to the corner at the judge's right, where Mrs. Joyce and Mrs. Ollnee +were seated, in close conversation with a dark, smoothly-shaven man of +middle age. "Oh, I'm so glad," she added, "Mr. Bartol is with them." + +She led the way, quite fearlessly, through the aisle and directly up to +the gate, where she was met by the bailiff, or warden of the room, a +sullen-faced, sloppy Irishman. He was too keen-eyed not to be +immediately impressed by her beauty and something strong and clear and +fine in her glance, but before he had time to ask her what she wanted +the gentleman whom she called Bartol came forward, and at his touch the +officer gave way respectfully, and the two young people entered the +inclosure. + +Mrs. Ollnee rose upon seeing Victor, and lifted her arms to his neck. +"Oh, I'm so glad you've come," she murmured, in deep relief. + +A rustle of profound interest passed over the court-room, and such +shuffling of feet and murmur of voices arose that the bailiff rapped +querulously on the railing with the handle of his mallet and glared, in +a vain effort to restore silence. Even the judge, accustomed as he was +to every phase of the human comedy, turned a sympathetic gaze upon the +girl. He was a middle-aged man, with a pale and sensitive careworn face, +and as he resumed his address to the men before him his gentle voice +could be heard above the roar of the street in grave reprimand. The +sodden convicts who stood unshaved and spiritless before him excited his +pity not his wrath. + +Victor sat down beside his mother, whispering, "What is it all about?" + +Mr. Bartol answered: "Pettus, the president of the People's Bank, has +absconded; the bank is closed, and your mother has been arrested for +complicity in his frauds." + +Victor understood almost instantly, for this was exactly what Carew had +warned him about on the night of his first dinner in Mrs. Joyce's house. +"What can we do?" he asked. + +"Leave that to me," replied Bartol. "I will see that your mother is +protected." + +As they sat thus, waiting, while the judge disposed of a wife-beating +case, Victor thought of Altair and the mournful and exquisite smile with +which she had greeted him. What a frightful gulf gaped between these +savage and bestial men--these sullen, pinched, grimy, and malodorous +street-walkers, these sottish, half-human creatures, torn and bloody +with one another's claws--and the celestial vision which his mother, by +some inexplicable necromancy, had been able to create from the sunless +world of her magic! What a measureless stretch lay between this +clamorous, automatic, pitiless court (with its weary judge) and the +sunny bank beside the lagoon, whereon the birds were singing and where +he and Leo had so lately lain to gaze on the far horizon land of wedded +happiness and love! + +Upon his musing the sounding voice of the clerk broke. "_Thomas Aiken_ +vs. _Lucile Ollnee._" + +Led by Mr. Bartol, Mrs. Ollnee and Mrs. Joyce moved through the gate and +stood before the judge, while from the right the complainant and his +witnesses and his lawyer came to oppose them. Victor followed his mother +and stood at the extreme left, with Leo by his side. He had no care of +what the miserable spectators in the seats would think of them. He was +only concerned with the judge and the opposing counsel. + +Upon the motion of the clerk, the bailiff called out, "Hold up your +hands, everybody," and so they all, including even Leo, held up their +right hands and took the oath that what they were about to say would be +the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help them God. + +The judge, worn by the ceaseless stream of diseased, ineffectual, and +halting humanity passing daily before his eyes, gazed in surprise and +growing interest upon this group of handsome and well-dressed people +while the prosecuting attorney presented the claims of the complaining +witness, charging the defendant with conspiring to rob or defraud one, +Mary Aiken. + +"Where is Mrs. Aiken?" asked the judge. + +"She is too ill to appear, your honor," replied the prosecuting +attorney, "but her granddaughter is here prepared to give in detail the +story of how the defendant, who professes to be a medium, induced her +aged and infirm grandmother to withdraw her money from certain +investments in her native town and put them into the hands of +another--namely, the absconding president of the People's Bank, thereby +impoverishing her. Thomas Aiken, the complainant, charges that the said +defendant, Lucile Ollnee, has by her uncanny powers obtained large sums +of money, and that she should be punished as a swindler." + +The judge studied the faces of the witnesses before him, then asked, +"What have you to say to this, Mrs. Ollnee?" + +"It is false," she replied. + +The prosecution put in a word. "You will not deny that you advised these +investments?" + +"I advised nothing," she retorted. "What my controls advised I only know +in a general way." + +"What do you mean by 'controls'?" inquired the judge. + +"I am a spirit medium, and sometimes a trance medium," she replied, +facing him steadily. "Those whom men call the dead speak through me." + +"In what way?" + +"Partly by writing, partly by means of voices." + +"Do you mean to say that the dead speak in voices audible to others than +yourself?" + +"Yes, your honor, they often speak so loud that any one may hear them. +For the most part they whisper." + +The prosecution again struck in. "These voices are a part of the trick, +a part of her method of luring her victims on to do her will." + +The judge turned to the complainant, Thomas Aiken, a dark-faced, sullen +young man. "Have you heard these voices, Mr. Aiken?" + +"No, sir; I never had a séance; but my sister has had a number of +interviews with this woman. I know that in spite of the advice of her +friends my grandmother has been induced to give away her money to this +woman and to that scoundrel, Pettus. We have been robbed by her. It +amounts to that, and we intend to stop it." + +The judge turned back to Mrs. Ollnee. "Do you wish to be tried here and +now on this charge?" + +Mr. Bartol interposed. "No, your honor, we do not. This case is a very +peculiar one. My client is a lady, as you may see, and should never have +been brought into this court in this fashion. That she is a medium is +probably true; but there is no evidence of deceit on her part. She +assures me of her absolute faith in these Voices, and her manner carries +conviction. Her friends believe in her also. She claims to be nothing +more than the means of communication between this world and the world of +the dead." + +The judge smiled faintly. "That is claiming a good deal--from my point +of view. What have you to say to that?" he demanded, turning again to +the complainants. + +A clear, low, musical voice, the voice of a young woman, answered, "The +case is not uncommon, your honor." + +Victor, craning his head forward, found himself looking directly into +the big, intense black eyes of the girl he had rebuffed on the stairway +the first day of his stay. She was vivid, intense, and very indignant as +she said: "The woman pretends to be possessed of the power of +communication with the dead, and by her arts she convinced my +grandmother that her dead husband wished the withdrawal of her money +from a bank in Moline, and that he recommended its investment in this +traction company. She played remorselessly upon the most sacred emotions +of my poor old grandmother, and I have evidence to prove that this +advice has been a part of a general scheme whereby this traction +company, a fake concern, has been able to delude other credulous souls." + +As she paused her lawyer said, wearily: "It is a plain case of +swindling, your honor, and we desire to press the case to its limit at +once, for Pettus cannot be found, and we fear the flight of the +defendant." + +Mr. Bartol spoke suavely. "Your honor, it is not 'a plain case of +swindling.' Mrs. Ollnee is the personal friend of Mrs. John H. Joyce, +whose name you know very well. It is true that messages were given +advising the investment of funds in the traction company, but not only +has this advice been followed by Mrs. Joyce, but by the defendant +herself, who has kept all her own small savings in the same bank." + +The judge turned to Mrs. Ollnee. "Is this true?" + +"It is, your honor." + +The judge spoke to Mrs. Joyce. "You believe in this woman's Voices?" + +"I do." + +"Yet they have advised you to put your money into the hands of a +swindler." + +"Her Voices seem to have done this, yes, sir; but she herself has never +advised in any way." + +"You distinguish between the Voices of your friend and her own +personality, do you?" + +"I do, yes, sir." + +The prosecuting attorney inserted a sneering word. "Your honor, Mrs. +Joyce is known to be credulous and under the influence of this +trickster. She is not a competent witness. She has permitted herself to +be deluded to the point where she will not believe anything ill of her +medium. Thomas Aiken is not the only one ready to press this charge +against the defendant. Four others to my knowledge stand ready to +testify to this woman's uncanny power for deluding and defrauding. My +client finds herself stripped of her little fortune and helpless in her +declining years. The acting of this medium is criminal, and we demand +that she be punished." + +The judge turned his musing eyes upon Mrs. Ollnee's pale face. "Have you +anything further to say, Mrs. Ollnee?" + +"I have never been guilty of any deception, your honor. I claim no +wisdom for myself. If it is true that the traction company is a fraud, +then it must be that lying spirits have spoken impersonating my husband +and my father." + +"That is a subterfuge," interposed the young woman, Miss Aiken. "She is +responsible for her Voices." + +"You accept money for your services, do you not?" the judge asked of +Mrs. Ollnee. + +"Not now, no sir." + +"Did you formerly?" + +"Yes, sir, after my husband died, I was forced to do so in order to +educate my son." + +"Is this your son?" + +"Yes, sir." + +The judge addressed himself to Victor. "What do you know of your +mother's power as a medium? Do you share her faith?" + +Victor felt the burning eyes of the angry girl upon him as he replied: +"I know very little about it, your honor. I have been away to school +ever since I was ten years old." + +"Mrs. Joyce, you are a believer in Mrs. Ollnee's powers?" + +"I am, a firm believer." + +"You've had no reason to doubt the genuineness of these messages?" + +"Up to the present time I have not." + +"You will lose heavily in this traction swindle, if it is a swindle, +will you not?" + +"If it has failed, yes, sir." + +"Does that shake your faith in the medium?" + +"Not in the slightest, your honor. It is a well-known fact that lying +spirits sometimes interpose." + +During this interrogation, which had proceeded in conversational tone, +they had all remained standing before the judge, whose speculative eyes +wandered from face to face with growing interest. At last he said to the +prosecuting attorney: "From your own statement of it, this case is not +to be tried here. I do not feel myself competent at this time to pass +upon the questions involved." + +"She shall not escape," said Miss Aiken, with bitter menace. + +Mr. Bartol interposed. "We demand a trial by jury, your honor." + +"You shall have it," responded the judge. + +The Aikens withdrew sullenly, and the bailiff indicated that the +defendant and her party might retire to an inner office while papers +were being prepared; and this they did. This room proved to be a bare, +bleak place, with benches and yellow wooden chairs, as ugly as a country +railway station, wherein a few officers were carelessly lounging about. +They all gazed curiously at Mrs. Ollnee and Leo, and one of them +muttered to the other, "It's not often that a classy bunch like that +comes into court." + +The indignity of it all caused Leo to forget her own share in the +traction company's failure. "It is shameful that you should be dragged +here," she said, when the door closed behind them. + +"Leo!" cried Mrs. Ollnee, in agonized voice. "Do you realize that this +failure means almost as much of a loss to you as it does to Louise?" + +This affected the girl only for an instant. Then she loyally said: +"Yes, I know. But I do not blame you for it." + +Mrs. Ollnee turned to her son. "If all they say is true, Victor, we are +the victims of some lying devils--" + +Leo soothingly laid her hand on her arm. "Let us not think about that +just now. Let us wait until we are safely out of this dreadful place." + +Victor perceived that his mother was shaken to the very deeps of her +faith. She was trembling with excitement and weakness, and his anxiety +deepened into a fear that she might faint. "There are devils here," she +whispered. "I feel them all about me--bestial, horrible--take me away!" + +"Can't we go now?" he asked of the officer, who seemed to have an eye on +them. "My mother is not well." + +"Wait till the bail is fixed up," the officer replied, pleasantly but +inexorably. + +They remained in silence till Mrs. Joyce and Mr. Bartol appeared. Then +Victor hurried his mother out into the street, eager to escape the +desolating air of this moral charnel-house. It was by no means a +perfectly pure atmosphere without, but it was fresher than within, and +Mrs. Ollnee revived almost instantly. "Oh, the swarms of unclean spirits +in there!" she said, looking back with a face of horror. + +Mrs. Joyce put her into the car with Leo and told them to go directly +home, while she, with Victor, took Mr. Bartol to his office. Victor, +stunned by the new and crushing blow which had fallen upon him, turned +to the great lawyer with a boy's trust and admiration. "What can we do?" +he asked, as soon as they had taken their seats in the car. + +Mr. Bartol did not attempt to make light of the case. His dark, strong +face was very grave as he answered: "For the present we can do very +little beyond getting our bearings. It seems to me at the moment as +though the whole question hinged upon the possibility of dual +personality, and so far as I am concerned, I have no mind upon that +matter. I must give it attention before I can reply. Our immediate +concern is to keep your mother from further trouble and assault. If, as +the prosecution stated, there are others in this fight, they and the +press can make it very unpleasant for you all. Miss Florence Aiken has a +powerful and vindictive pen. She will not cease her persecution--for she +is at the bottom of the case." + +Mrs. Joyce turned to him with eager face. "I wish you would invite Mrs. +Ollnee and her son up to your farm for a few days." + +"I do so with pleasure. I am going up to-night on the eight-o'clock +train, and I shall be very glad to have them go with me, if they care to +do so. We can then talk the whole case over at our leisure and in quiet. +Perhaps you can run up and stay over Sunday with us." + +"That is the very thing," she responded; "and I'm very grateful to you." + +Again Victor felt himself helpless, whirling along in a stream of alien +purpose like a leaf in a mountain torrent, and again he abandoned +himself to its sweep. "I will do anything to get away from here," he +replied. + +Mr. Bartol went on: "Your mother's case will not come up for some days, +and the rest and quiet of the farm will do you both good." To Mrs. Joyce +he added, privately: "The whole matter interests me vastly. I don't at +all mind giving some time to it, and, besides, I like the young man." + +Mrs. Joyce dropped the lawyer at his office door and sped homeward +swiftly, with intent to overtake Leo. She did not attempt to conceal her +anxiety. "The truth is, Victor, Pettus and his friends called into our +circle a throng of wicked, deceiving spirits. They were not what they +claimed to be. They were cheats, and they have almost ruined us. Your +poor, sweet mother is not to blame, and I can't blame the Aikens. What I +cannot understand is this--Why did your father and his band permit these +treacherous personalities to intervene? Why did they not defend her from +these demons?" + +Victor listened to her with a complete reversal to disbelief as regards +his mother's mediumship. He forgot the marvels of the direct writing, +the mighty murmuring wind, the dream-face of Altair; all these +insubstantial and evanescent perceptions were lost, submerged by the +returning sea of his doubt. He saw, too, that Leo's faith was shaken. He +felt it beneath her brave-spoken words. The whole question of the +process, as well as the content of the messages, was reopened for her. +His situation grew ever darker. His way was again blocked. He could not +leave his mother to her fate, and yet he could not see his way to +earning a cent of money while this horrible accusation was hanging over +her. He acknowledged, too, a very definite feeling of sympathy with +those who had been defrauded. There was moral indignation in Miss +Aiken's tremulous eagerness to punish. "She's not to blame," he said. +"I'd do exactly as she is doing if I were in her place." + + + + +X + +A VISIT TO HAZEL GROVE + + +Bartol, attended by porters and greeted by conductors and brakemen, led +the way to the parlor-car in a stern abstraction, which was his habit. +Victor studied him closely and with growing admiration. He was not tall, +but his head was nobly formed and his broad mask of face lion-like in +its somber dreaming. In repose it was sad, almost bitter, and in profile +clear-cut and resolute. His dress was singularly tasteful and orderly, +with nothing of the careless celebrity in its color or cut, and yet no +one would accuse him of being the dandy. He was naturally of this +method, and gave little direct thought to toilet or dress. + +Mrs. Ollnee looked upon him as her rescuer, one who had snatched her +from loathsome captivity; but his manner did not invite repeated and +profuse thanks. With a few words of polite explanation, he took a seat +behind his wards, unfolded his newspaper, and forgot them till the +conductor came through the car; then he remembered them and paid their +fares. + +Mrs. Ollnee was not merely awed by his powerful visage and searching +eyes; she was profoundly stirred by some psychic influence which +emanated from him. She whispered to Victor: "He is very sad. He is all +alone. He has lost his wife and both his children. He has no hope, and +often feels like leaving this life." + +Victor did not take this communication as a "psychometric reading," for +he had been able to discern almost as much with his own eyes, and, +besides, all of its definite information Mrs. Joyce might have +furnished; but his mother added something that startled him. She said: +"The Voices say, '_Obey this man; study him. He will raise you high!_'" + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"I don't know," she replied. "That is the way I hear it. I hear other +Voices--they say to me, '_Comfort him._'" + +Victor was not in a mood for "voices," and cut her short by asking in +detail about her arrest. "Who came for you? A policeman?" + +"Yes, but not in uniform. They were very nice about it. At first I was +terribly frightened. I was afraid I should have to go in the +patrol-wagon, but we were allowed to ride in the car, the policeman +sitting with the driver--" + +Victor groaned. "Oh, mother, why did you give out _business_ advice!" + +"I gave what was given to me," she responded. + +"Think of the disgrace of being in that court-room!" + +"I didn't mind the disgrace," she replied; "but it swarmed with horrible +spirits. Each one of those poor criminals had a cloud of other base, +distorted, half-formed creatures hovering about him. It was like being +in a cage with a host of obscene bats fluttering about." She shuddered. +"It was horrible! It was a sweet relief when you and Leo came, for a new +and happy band came with you. You helped my band drive away the cloud of +low beings that oppressed me; and now there is something calming and +serenely helpful all about me. It comes from Mr. Bartol. I am no longer +afraid; I am perfectly serene." + +Victor made no attempt at elucidating her exact meaning; there was +something depressing to him in this continued dependence upon spirit +guidance, a guidance that had led them into so much trouble and +discredit. He sat by the window, watching the faintly-outlined moonlit +landscape flowing past, feeling himself to be a very small insect riding +on the chariot of the king of tempests, with no power to check the speed +or direct the course of his inflexible driver. His own future was but a +flutter of vague shadows, his boyhood a serene, sun-warm meadow, now +swiftly receding into the darkness of night. Would anything so beautiful +ever come again? + +His mother, sitting as if entranced, was looking down at her folded +hands, her brow unlined; but a plaintive droop in the lines of her +sensitive mouth told that she was wearied and secretly disheartened. + +"Poor little mother!" he said, laying a hand on her arm, "you are +tired." + +The tears came to her eyes, but she smiled back radiantly. "I don't care +what comes, if only you believe in me," she said, simply; and he took +her hand in both of his and pressed it like a lover. + +At last Mr. Bartol folded his paper and put away his glasses. "Well, we +are nearing Hazel Grove," he announced, smilingly. "It's only a little +village, a meeting of cross-roads, but I think you'll like the country; +it's the fine old rolling prairie of which you've heard." + +The moon was riding high as they alighted from the coach upon the +platform of a low, wooden station in the midst of green fields. A clump +of trees, and the lights in dimly discerned houses, gave only a faint +suggestion of a town; but an open carriage was waiting for them, and +entering this, they were driven away into the most delicious and +fragrant silence. + +Instantly the last trace of Victor's anger and unrest fell away from +him. Of this simple quality had been the scenes of his life at school. +In such peace and serenity his earlier years had been spent; indeed, all +his life, save for the few tumultuous days in the city--and he was +immediately restored and comforted by the sounds, sights, and odors of +the superb spring night. + +"Isn't it glorious!" he cried. "I feel as if I were reaching God's +country again." + +The swiftly stepping horses whirled them up the street through a bunch +of squat buildings and out along a gently rising lane to the south. Ten +minutes later the driver turned into a large, tree-shaded drive, and +over a curving graveled drive approached a spreading white house, whose +porticos shone pleasantly in the moonlight. A row of lighted windows +glowed with hospitable intent, and tall vases of flowers showed dimly. + +"Here we are!" called Mr. Bartol, with genial cordiality. "Welcome to +Hazeldean." + +To dismount before this wide porch in the midst of the small innumerable +voices of the night was like living out some delicious romance. To come +to it from the reek and threat of the court-room made its serene expanse +a heavenly refuge, and the beleaguered mother paused for a moment at the +door to look back upon the lawn, where opulent elms and maples dreamed +in the odorless gloom. "I have never seen anything so peaceful," she +breathed. "Only heavenly souls inhabit here." + +The interior was equally restful and reassuring. Large rooms with simple +and substantial furnishings led away from a short entrance hall. The +ceilings were low and dark, and the lamps shaded. Books were everywhere +to be seen, many of them piled carelessly convenient to lights and +chairs, as if it were both library and living-room. + +The first word Victor spoke related to the books, and Mr. Bartol replied +with a smile. + +"They are not especially well chosen. I fear you'll find them a mixed +lot. I read nothing but law in the city--here I indulge my fancy. You'll +wonder what my principle of selection is, and, if you ask me, I must +answer--I haven't any. I buy whatever commends itself to me at the +moment. One thing leads to another--romance to history, history to +poetry, poetry to the drama, and so on." He greeted a very tidy maid who +entered the room. "Good-evening, Marie. This is Mrs. Ollnee, and this is +her son, Mr. Victor Ollnee. Please see that they are made comfortable." +Then again to his guests. "You must be tired." + +"I am so, Mr. Bartol," replied Mrs. Ollnee, "and if you'll pardon me +I'll go to my room." + +"Certainly--and you may go, too, if you feel like it," he said to +Victor. + +"I am not sleepy," replied Victor. + +"Very well," replied his host. "Be seated and we'll discuss the +situation for a few minutes." + +He led the way to a corner where two wide windows opening on the lawn +made delicious mingling of night air and study light, and offering his +guest a cigar, took a seat, saying: "I run out here whenever the city +becomes a burden. I find I need just such a corrective to the intense +life of the city. It is my rule to give no thought to legal troubles +while I am here; hence the absence of codes and all legal literature. +You are a college man, Mrs. Joyce tells me." + +"I was at Winona last Saturday, and expected to stay there till June, +when I was due to graduate. Then the devil broke loose, and here I am. +When will my mother's case come up?" + +"Not for some weeks, I fear. If you wish to return to your studies we +can arrange that." + +"No. I'm done with school. I'm only worried about my mother. What do you +think of her case, Mr. Bartol?" + +"I'm not informed sufficiently to say," he replied, slowly. "The whole +subject of hypnotic control seems to be involved. I must know more of +your mother before I can even hazard an opinion. The theories of +suggestion are all rather vague to me. I have only what might be called +a newspaper knowledge of them; but I have some information as to your +mother's profession I gained from my friend Mrs. Joyce, so that I am not +entirely uninformed. Besides, it is a lawyer's business to know +everything, and I shall at once proceed to bore into the subject." + +Mrs. Ollnee returning brought him to his feet in graceful acknowledgment +of her sex, and placing a chair for her, he said, "I hope you don't mind +tobacco." + +"Not at all," she replied, quite as graciously. + +He placed a chair for her so that the light fell upon her face, and she +knew that he intended to study her as if she were a page of strange +text. + +"I'm glad you like it here," he said, in answer to her repeated +admiration of his home, "for I suspect you'll have to stay here for the +present. The city is passing through one of those moral paroxysms which +come once in a year or two. Last year it was the social evil; just now +it concerns itself with what the reformers are pleased to call 'the +occult fakers.' The feeling of a jury would be against you at present, +and as I have promised Mrs. Joyce to take charge of your defense, I +think it well for you to go into retirement here while I take time to +inform myself of the case." + +"I do not like to trouble you." + +"It is no trouble, my dear madam. Here is this big home, empty and +completely manned. A couple of guests, especially a hearty young man, +will be a godsend to my cook. She complains of not having men to feed. +Don't let any question of expense to me trouble you." + +"Thank you most deeply." + +"Don't thank me; thank Louise Joyce, who is both client and friend, and +the one to whom I owe this pleasure." He bowed. "I never before had the +opportunity of entertaining a 'psychic,' and I welcome the +opportunity." + +She did not quite know how to take him, and neither did Victor; and +perceiving that doubt, Bartol added: "I am quite sincere in all this. I +hear a good deal, obscurely, of this curious phase of human life, but +never before have I been confronted by one who claims the power of +divination." + +"Pardon me, sir, I do not claim such power." + +"Do you not! I thought that was precisely your claim." + +"No, sir, I am a medium. I report what is given to me. I divine nothing +of myself. I am an instrument through which those whom men call 'the +dead' speak." + +"I see," he mused. "I will not deceive you," he began again, very +gravely. "This charge against you is likely to prove serious, and you +must be quite frank with me. I may require a test of your powers." + +"I am at your service, sir. Make any test of me you please--this moment +if you like." + +"I will not require anything of you to-night. Writers tell me that +'mediums' are a dark, elusive, and uncanny set, Mrs. Ollnee, and I must +confess that you upset my preconceptions." + +"There are all kinds of mediums, as there are all kinds of lawyers, Mr. +Bartol. I am human, like the others." + +"If you will permit me, I will take up your defense along the lines of +hypnotic control on the part of this man Pettus." + +"I cannot presume to advise you, sir, but you must know that to me these +Voices come from the spirit world. I am the transmitter merely--for +instance, at this moment I hear a Voice and I see behind you the form of +a lady, a lovely young woman--" + +"Mother!" called Victor, warningly. "Don't start in on that!" + +"Proceed," said Bartol; "I am interested." + +The psychic, leaning forward slightly, fixed her wide, deep-blue eyes +upon him. "The maid conducted me to the room which had been your wife's, +but I could not stay there. This lady who stands beside you took me by +the hand and led me away to another room. She is nodding at me now." + +"Do you mean the maid led you from the room?" + +"No, I mean the spirit now standing behind you led me here. She says her +name is Margaret Bartol. She said: '_Comfort my dear husband. Restore +his faith._' She is smiling at me. She wants me to go on." + +Bartol's face remained inscrutably calm. "Where does the form seem to +be?" + +"At your right shoulder. She says, '_Tell him Walter and Hattie are both +with me._' She listened a moment. She says, '_Tell him Walter's mind is +perfectly clear now._'" + +Victor thought he saw the lawyer start in surprise, but his voice was +cold as he said, "Go on." + +"She says: '_Tell him the way is open. I am here. Ask him to speak to +me._'" + +Bartol then spoke, but his tone plainly showed that he was testing his +client's hallucination and not addressing himself to the imaginary +ghost. "Are you there, Margaret?" + +"_Yes_," came the answer, clearly though faintly. + +The renowned lawyer gazed at the medium with eyes that burned deep, and +presently he asked, "What have you to say to me?" + +Again came the clear, silvery whisper: "_Much. Trust the medium. She +will comfort you._" + +Victor thrilled to the importance of this moment, and much as he feared +for his mother's success, he could not but admire the courage which +blazed in her steady eyes. She was no longer afraid of this mighty man +of the law, to whom heaven and hell were obsolete words. She was +panoplied with the magic and mystery of death, and waited calmly for him +to continue. + +At last he said: "Go on. I am listening." + +Again through the flower-scented, silent room the sibilant voice stole +its way. "_Father._" + +"Who is speaking?" + +"_Margaret._" + +"Margaret? What Margaret?" + +"_Your 'rascal' Peggy._" + +Bartol certainly started at this reply, which conveyed an expression of +mirth, but his questions continued formal. + +"What is your will with me?" + +"_Mamma is here--and Walter._" + +"Can they speak?" + +"_They will try._" + +Again silence fell upon the room--a silence so profound that every +insect's stir was a rude interruption. At length another whisper, +clearer, louder, made itself heard: "_Alexander, be happy. I live._" + +"Who are you?" + +"_Your wife._" + +"You say so. Can you prove your identity?" + +The whisper grew fainter. "_I will try. It is hard. Good-by._" + +Bartol raised his hand to his head with a gesture of surprise. "I +thought I felt a touch on my hair." + +"The lady touched you as she passed away," Mrs. Ollnee explained. "She +has gone. They are all gone now." + +"I am sorry," he said, in polite disappointment. "I wanted to pursue the +interrogation. Is this the usual method of your communications?" + +"This is one way. They write sometimes, and sometimes they speak through +a megaphone; sometimes they materialize a face or a hand." + +He remained in profound thought for a few moments, then starting up, +spoke with decision: "You are tired. Go to bed. We'll have plenty of +time to take up these matters to-morrow. Please feel at home here and +stay as long as you wish." + +A little later he took Victor to his room, and as they stood there he +remarked, "Of course, all this may be and probably is mind-reading and +ventriloquism--subconscious, of course." + +"But the writing," said Victor. "You must see that. That is the weirdest +thing she does. It is baffling." + +"My boy, the whole universe is baffling to me," his host replied, and +into his voice came that tone of tragic weariness which affected the +youth like a strain of solemn music. "The older I grow the more +senseless, hopelessly senseless, human life appears; but I must not say +such things to you. Good-night." + +"Good-night," responded Victor, with swelling throat. "We owe you a +great deal." + +"Don't speak of it!" the lawyer commanded, and closed the door behind +him. + +Victor dropped into a chair. What a day this had been! Within +twenty-four hours he had seen and loved the dream-face of Altair and had +been blown upon by the winds from the vast chill and empty regions of +space. He had resented Leo's voice in the night, but had returned to her +in the light of the morning. On the dreamy lagoon he had been her lover +again, pulling at the oar with savage joy, and on the grass in the +sunlight he had been the man unafraid and victorious. Then came the +hurried return, the visit to the court, the rescue of his mother--and +here now he lay in the charity bed of his mother's lawyer! "Truly I am +being hurried," he said; and recalling Miss Aiken's final menacing +remark, he added: "And if that girl and her brother can do it mother +will be sent to prison." Much as he feared these accusing witnesses, he +acknowledged a kind of fierce beauty in Florence Aiken's face. + +As he lay thus, thinking deeply yet drowsily upon his problems, he heard +a faint ticking sound beneath his head. It was too regular and +persistent to be a chance creaking of the cloth, and he rose and shook +the pillow to dislodge the insect which he imagined might have flown in +at the window. + +The ticking continued. "I wonder if that _is_ a fly?" + +The ticking seemed to reply, "No," by means of one decided rap. To test +it, he asked, "Are you a spirit?" + +The tick counted one, two, three--"_Yes._" + +"Some one to speak to me?" + +_Tick, tick, tick_--"Yes." + +The answer was so plainly intelligent that the boy, silent with +amazement, not unmixed with fear, lay for a few minutes in puzzled +inaction. At length he asked, "Who is it--Father?" + +"Tick"--No. + +"_Grandfather?_" + +"_No._" + +He hesitated before asking the next question. "Is it Altair?" + +"_No._" + +He thought again. "Is it Walter Bartol?" + +The answer was joyously instant. "_Yes, yes, yes!_" + +"Do you wish to speak to me?" + +"_Yes._" + +"About your father?" + +"_Yes._" + +"Through my mother?" + +Now came one of those baffling changes. The answer was faintly slow, +"Tick, tick," betraying uncertainty--and succeeding queries elicited no +response. + +Victor, excited and eager, would have gone to his mother for aid had he +known where to find her room. The mood for marvels was upon him now, and +Altair and Margaret, and all the rest of the impalpable throng, seemed +waiting in the dusk and silence to communicate with him. Hopelessly wide +awake, he lay, while the big clock on the landing rang its little chime +upon the quarter hours, but no further sign was given him of the +presence of his intangible visitor; and at last the experience of the +day became as unsubstantial as his dreams. + +He was awakened by the cackling of fowls and the bleating of calves and +lambs. The sun was shining through the leafy top of a tree which lay +almost against his window, and happy shadows were dancing like fairies +on the coverlet of his bed. + +"It sounds like a real farm!" he drowsily murmured, filled with the +peace of those cries, which typify the most ancient and unchanging parts +of the cottager's life. + +He had known only the poetic side of farm life. He had seen it, heard +it, tasted it only as the lad out for a holiday, and it all seemed +serene and joyous to him. To his mind the luxury of quietly dozing to +the music of a barn-yard was the natural habit of the farmer. He did not +attempt to rise till he heard the voice of his host from the lawn +beneath his window. + +A half an hour later he found Bartol in the barn-yard surveying a span +of colts which his farmer was leading back and forth before him. They +were lanky, thin-necked creatures, but Victor knew enough of horses to +perceive in them signs of a famous breed of trotters. + +"You are a real farmer," he said, as he came up to his host. + +Bartol seemed pleased. "I made it pay five per cent. last year," he +responded, with pride. "Of course that means counting in my time as a +farmer, and not as a lawyer. How did you sleep?" + +"Pretty well--when I got at it. I was a little excited and didn't go off +as I usually do when I hit the pillow." + +"No wonder! I had a restless night myself." He nodded to the hostler. +"That will do," and turned away. "I gave a great deal of thought to your +mother's case. The fact seems to be that the human organism is a great +deal more complicated than we're permitted ourselves to admit, and the +tendency of the ordinary man is to make the habitual commonplace, no +matter how profoundly mysterious it may be at the outset. Of course at +bottom we know very little of the most familiar phenomenon. Why does +fire burn and water run? No one really knows." + +They were facing the drive, which curved like a lilac ribbon through the +green of the lawn, and the estate to Victor's eyes had all the charm of +a park combined with the suggestive music of a farmstead. + +"It's beautiful here!" he exclaimed. + +"I'm glad you like it, and I hope you and your mother will stay till we +have put you both straight with the world." + +"If I could only do something to pay my freight, Mr. Bartol. I feel like +a beggar and a fool to be so helpless. I was not expecting to be kicked +out of college, and I'm pretty well rattled, I'll confess." + +"You keep your poise notably," the lawyer replied, with kindly glance. +"To be so suddenly introduced to the mystery and the chicanery of the +world would bewilder an older and less emotional man." + +They breakfasted in a big room filled with the sunlight. Through the +open windows the scent of snowy flowers drifted, and the food and +service were of a sort that Victor had never seen. A big grape-fruit, +filled with sugar and berries; corn-cakes, crisp and golden; bacon +delicately broiled, together with eggs (baked in little earthen cups), +and last of all, coffee of such fragrance that it seemed to vie with the +odor of the flowers without. Each delicious dish was served deftly, +quietly, by a sweet-faced maid, who seemed to feel a filial interest in +her master. + +The service was a revelation of the perfection to which country life can +be brought by one who has both wealth and culture; and Victor wondered +that any one could be sad amid such radiant surroundings. + +"I can't see why you ever return to the city," he said, with conviction. + +Bartol smiled. "That's the perversity of our human nature. If I were +forced to live here all the time the farm might pall upon me, just as if +all seasons were spring. As it is, I come back to it from the turmoil of +the town with never-cloying appetite. Per contra, these maids and my +farm-hands find a visit to the city their keenest delight. To them the +parks and the artificial ponds are more beautiful than anything in +nature." His tone changed. "In truth, I live on and do my work more from +force of habit than from zest. So far as I can, I get back to the simple +animal existence, where sun and air and food are the never-failing +pleasures. I try to forget that I am a pursuer of criminals. I return to +my work in the city, as I say, because it helps to keep my appetite for +the rural things. I can't afford to let silence and green trees pall +upon me. If I were a little more of a believer," he smiled, "I would say +that you and your mother had been sent to me, for of late I have been in +a deeper slough of despair than at any time since the death of my wife. +I am curious to see how all this is going to affect your mother. She may +find it very lonely here." + +"Oh, I'm sure she will not." + +"Well, now, I must be off. But before I go I will show you the +catalogues of my library; and perhaps I can bring home some books which +will bear on these occult subjects. I have given orders that no +information as to you shall go off the place; and your mother is safe +here. You may read, or hoe in the garden, or ride a horse." + +"I wish I might go to the city with you." + +"My judgment is against it. Stay here for a few days till we see which +way the wind is blowing." And with a cheery wave of his hand he drove +away, leaving Victor on the porch with the feeling of being marooned on +an island--a peaceful and beautiful island, but an island nevertheless. + + + + +XI + +LOVE'S TRANSLATION + + +To tell the truth, Victor dreaded being left alone with his mother in +this way. He was fully aware now of the invisible barrier between them. +No matter what explanation was finally offered, she could never be the +same to him again, for whether it was her subconscious self which had +cunningly lured them all to the verge of disaster, or some +uncontrollable impulse coming from without, in the light any +explanation, she was no longer the sweet, gentle, normal mother he had +hitherto thought her to be. + +It was not a question of being in possession of strange abilities, it +was a question of being obsessed by some diabolical power--of being the +prey of malignant demons avid to destroy. + +The more deeply he thought upon all that had come to him, the more +bewildered he became; and to avoid this tumult, which brought no result, +he went out and wandered about the farm. His experience was like +visiting a foreign country, for the men were either Swiss or German; and +the walls of the farm-yard quite as un-American in their massiveness +and their formal arrangement--a vivid contrast to the flimsy structures +of the neighboring village. The servants (that is what they were, +servants) treated him with the trained deference of those who for +generations have touched their caps to the more fortunate beings of the +earth, and these signs of subordination were distinctly soothing to the +youth's disturbed condition of mind. Instantly, and without effort, he +assumed the air of the young aristocrat they thought him. + +He strolled down the road to the village, which was a collection of +small frame cottages in neat lawns, surrounding a few general stores and +a greasy, fly-specked post-office. Here was the unimaginative, the +prosaic, perfectly embodied. Old men, bent and gray, were gossiping from +benches and boxes under the awnings. Clerks in their shirt-sleeves were +lolling over counters. A few farmers' teams stood at the iron +hitching-posts with drowsy, low-hanging heads. Neither doubt nor dismay +nor terror had footing here. The majesty of dawn, the mystery of +midnight, did not touch these peaceful and phlegmatic souls. The spirit +of man was to them less than an abstraction and the tumult of the city a +far-off roar as of distant cataracts. + +Furthermore, these matter-of-fact folk had abundant curiosity and no +reverence, and they all stared at Victor with round, absorbent gaze, as +if with candid intent to take full invoice of his clothing, and to know +him again in any disguise. He heard them say, one after the other, as he +passed along, "Visitor of Bartol's, I guess." And he could understand +that this explanation really explained, for Bartol's "Castle" was the +resting-place of many strange birds of passage. + +Bartol was, indeed, the constant marvel of Hazel Grove. Why had he +bought the place? Why, after it was bought, should he spend so much +money on it? And finally, why should he employ "foreigners"? These were +a few of the queries which were put and answered and debated in the +shade of the furniture store and around the air-tight store of the +grocery. His farm was their never-failing wonder tale. The building of a +new wall was an excitement, each whitewashing of a picket fence an +event. They knew precisely the hour of departure of each blooded ram or +bull, and the birth of each colt was discussed as if another son and +heir had come to the owner. + +Naturally, therefore, all visitors to "Hazeldean" came in for study and +comment--especially because it was well known that Bartol stood high in +the political councils of the party (was indeed mentioned for senator), +and that his guests were likely to be "some punkins" in the world. "This +young feller is liable to be the son of one of his millionaire clients," +was the comment of the patient sitters. "Husky chap, ain't he?" + +Feeling something of this comment, and sensing also the sleepy +materialism of the inhabitants, Victor regained much of his own +disbelief in the miraculous, and yet just to that degree did the pain in +his heart increase, for it made of his mother something so monstrous +that the conception threatened all his love and reverence for her. Pity +sprang up in place of the filial affection he had once known. He began +to make new excuses for her. "It must be that she has become so +suggestible that every sitter's mind governs her. In a sense, that +removes her responsibility." And so he walked back, with all his +pleasure in the farm and village eaten up by his care. + +His mother was waiting for him on the porch, and as he came up, asked +with shining face: + +"Isn't this heavenly, Victor?" + +"It is very beautiful," he replied, but with less enthusiasm than she +expected. + +"To think that yesterday I was threatened with the prison, and +now--this! We have much to thank Mr. Bartol for." + +"That's just it, mother. What claim have we on this big, busy man? What +right have we to sit here?" + +The brightness of her face dimmed a little, but she replied bravely: "I +have always paid my way, Victor, and I am sure last night's message +meant much to Mr. Bartol. I always help people. If I bring back a belief +in immortality do I not make fullest recompense to my host? My gift is +precious, and yet I cannot sell it--I can only give it--and so when I am +offered bed and board in return for my work I am not ashamed to take it. +The kings of the earth are glad to honor those who, like myself, have +the power to penetrate the veil." + +Never before had she ventured upon so frank a defense of her vocation, +and Victor listened with a new conception of her powers. As she +continued she took on dignity and quiet force. + +"The medium gives more for her wages than any earthly soul; and when you +consider that we make the grave a gateway to the light, that our hands +part the veil between the seen and the unseen, then you will see that +our gifts are not abnormal, but supernormal. God has given us these +powers to comfort mankind, to afford a new revelation to the world." + +"Why didn't you make me a medium?" he asked, thrusting straight at her +heart. "Why did you send me away from it all?" + +Her eyes fell, her voice wavered. "Because I was weak--an earthly +mother. My selfish love and pride overpowered me. I could not see you +made ashamed--and besides my controls advised it for the time." + +He took a seat where he could look up into her face. "Mother, tell me +this--haven't you noticed that your controls generally advise the things +you believe in?" + +She was stung by his question. "Yes, my son, generally; but sometimes +they drive me into ways I do _not_ believe in. Often they are in +opposition to my own will." + +He was silenced for the moment, and his mind took a new turn. "When did +Altair first come?" + +"Soon after I met Leo. She came with Leo. She attends Leo." + +"Have you seen her?" + +"No. I am always in deepest trance when she shows herself. I hear her +voice, though." + +"Mother," he said, earnestly, "if Mr. Bartol gets us out of this scrape +will you go away with me into some new country and give up this +business?" + +"You don't seem to understand, Victor. I can no more escape from these +Voices than I can run away from my own shadow. I don't want to run away. +I love the thought of them. I have innumerable sweet friends on the +other side. To close the door in their faces would be cruel. It would +leave me so lonely that I should never smile again." + +"Then they mean more to you than I do!" he exclaimed. + +"No, no! I don't mean that!" she passionately protested. "You mean more +to me than all the _earthly_ things, but these heavenly hosts are very +dear--besides, I shall go to them soon and I want to feel sure that I +can come back to you when I have put aside the body. I fear now that +our separation was a mistake. In trying to shield you from the transient +disgrace of being a medium's son, I have put your soul in danger. I was +weak--I own it. I was an earthly mother. I wanted my boy to be respected +and rich and happy here in the earth-life. I did not realize the danger +I ran of being forever separated from you by the veil of death. Oh, +Victor, you must promise me that should I pass out suddenly you will try +to keep the spirit-way open between us--will you promise this?" + +Strange scene! Strange mother! All about them the orioles were +whistling, the robins chirping, and farther away the beasts of the +barn-yard were bawling their wants in cheerful chorus, but here on this +vine-shaded porch a pale, small woman sought a compact with her son +which should outlast the grave and defy time and space. + +He gave his word. How could he refuse it? But his pledge was +half-hearted, his eyes full of wavering. It irked him to think that in a +month of bloom and passion, a world of sunny romance, a world of girls +and all the sweet delights they conveyed to young men, he should be +forced to discuss matter which relates to the charnel-house and the +chill shadow of the tomb. + +He rose abruptly. "Don't let's talk of this any more. Let's go for a +walk. Let's visit the garden." + +She was swifter of change than he. She could turn from the air of the +"ghost-room" to the glory of the peacock as swiftly as a mirror reflects +its beam of light, and she caught a delightful respite from the flowers. +She was accustomed to the lavish greenhouses of her wealthy patrons, but +here was something that delighted her more than all their hotbeds. Here +were all the old-fashioned out-of-door plants and flowers, the +perennials of her grandfather, to whom hot-houses were unknown. This +Colonial garden was another of Bartol's peculiarities. He had no love +for orchids, or any exotic or forced blooms. His fancy led to the +glorification of phloxes, to the ripening of lilacs, and to the +preservation of old-time varieties of roses--plants with human +association breathing of romance and sorrow--hence his plots were filled +with hardy New England roots flourishing in the richer soils of the +Western prairies. + +These colors, scents, and forms moved Victor markedly, for the reason +that in La Crescent, as a child, he had been accustomed to visit a gaunt +old woman, the path to whose door led through cinnamon roses, balsam, +tiger-lilies, sweet-william, bachelor-buttons, pinks, holly-hocks, and +the like--a wonderland to him then--a strange and haunting pleasure now +as he walked these graveled ways and mingled the memories of the old +with the vivid impressions of the new. + +Back to the house they came at last to luncheon, and there, sitting in +the beautiful dining-room, so cool, so spacious, so singularly tasteful +in every detail, they gazed upon each other in a delight which was +tinged with pain. Such perfection of appointment, such service, all for +them (two beggars), was more than embarrassing; it provoked a sense of +guilt. The pretty, low-voiced, soft-soled maid came and went, bringing +exquisite food in the daintiest dishes (enough food for six), +anticipating every want, like the fairy of the story-books. "Mother," +said the youth, "this is a story!" + +Mrs. Ollnee was accustomed to the splendor of Mrs. Joyce's house, but +she was almost as much moved as Victor. She perceived the difference +between the old-world simplicity of this flawless establishment and the +lavish, tasteless hospitality of men like Pettus. + +Who had planned and organized this wide-walled, low-toned room, this +marvelously effective cuisine? How was it possible for such service to +go on during the master's absence with apparently the same unerring +precision of detail? + +These questions remained unanswered, and they rose at last with a sense +of having been, for the moment at least, in the seats of those who +command the earth wisely. + +Hardly were they returned to their hammocks on the porch when a swiftly +driven car turned in at the gate. + +"It is Louise!" exclaimed Mrs. Ollnee. + +"And Leo!" added Victor. + +With streaming veils the travelers swept up to the carriage steps +covered with dust, yet smiling. + +"How are you?" called Mrs. Joyce; and then with true motor spirit, +addressed the driver: "What's the time, Denis?" + +"Two hours and ten minutes from North Avenue." + +"Not so bad, considering the roads." + +Leo had sprung out and was throwing off her cloak and veil. "I hope +we're not too late for luncheon. Mr. Bartol has the _best_ cook, and I'm +famished." + +Her coming swept Victor back into his other and normal self, and he took +charge of her with a mingling of reverence and audacity which charmed +her. He went out into the dining-room with her and sat beside her while +she ate. "I hope you're going to stay," he said, earnestly. + +"Stay! Of course we'll stay. It's hot as July in the city--always is +with the wind from the southwest. Isn't it heavenly out here?" + +"Heavenly is the word; but who did it? Who organized it?" + +"Mrs. Bartol. She had the best taste of any one--and her way with the +servants was beyond imitation. They all worship her memory." + +"I can't make myself believe I deserve all this," he said. "Your coming +puts the frosting on my bun." + +It was as if some new and utterly different spirit, or band of them, had +come with this glowing girl. She radiated the vitality and the melody of +youth. Without being boisterous or silly, she filled the house with +laughter. "There's something about Hazeldean that always makes me happy. +I don't know why," she said. + +"You make all who inhabit this house happy," said Mrs. Ollnee. "I can +hear spirit laughter echoing to yours." + +"Can you? Is it Margaret?" + +"Yes, Margaret and Philip." + +Victor did not smile; on the contrary, his face darkened, and Mrs. Joyce +changed the tone of the conversation by asking: "Did you see the paper +this morning? They say you have skipped to join Pettus." This seemed so +funny that they all laughed, till Victor remembered that both these +women had lost much money through Pettus. + +Mrs. Joyce sobered, too. "The Star is against you, Lucy, and you must +keep dark for a time. They are denouncing you as a traitor and all the +rest of it. Did Paul, or any one, advise you last night?" + +"No, nothing was said. I suppose they are considering the matter also. +Those deceiving spirits must be hunted out and driven away." + +"I'm going to lie down for a while," Mrs. Joyce announced. "My old +waist-line is jolted a bit out o' plumb. Leo, will you stretch out, +too?" + +"No indeed. What I need is a walk or a game of tennis. I'm cramped from +sitting so long." + +So it fell out that Victor (penniless youth, hedged about with invisible +walls, pikes, and pitfalls) was soon galloping about a tennis court in +the glories of a new pair of flannel trousers and a lovely blue-striped +outing shirt, trying hard not to win every game from a very good +partner, who was pouting with dismay while admiring his skill. + +"It isn't right for any one to 'serve' as weird a ball as you do," she +protested. "It's like playing with loaded dice. I begin to understand +why you were not renowned as a scholar." + +"Oh, I wasn't so bad! I stood above medium." + +"How could you? It must have taken all your time to learn to play tennis +in the diabolical way you do--it's conjury, that's what it is!" + +They were in the shade, and the fresh sweet wind, heavy with the scent +of growing corn and wheat, swept steadily over the court, relieving it +from heat, and Victor clean forgot his worriments. This girlish figure +filled his eyes with pictures of unforgetable grace and charm. The swing +of her skirts as she leaped for the ball, the free sweep of her arm (she +had been well instructed), and the lithe bending of her waist brought +the lover's sweet unease. When they came to the net now and again, he +studied her fine figure with frank admiration. "You are a corker!" was +his boyish word of praise. "I don't go up against many men who play the +game as well as you do. Your 'form' is a whole lot better than mine. I +am a bit lucky, I admit. You see, I studied baseball pitching, and I +know the action of a whirling sphere. I curve the ball--make it 'break,' +as the English say. I can make it do all kinds of 'stunts.'" + +"I see you can, and I'll thank you not to try any new ones," she +protested. "Can you ride a horse?" + +His face fell a bit. "There I am a 'mutt,'" he confessed. "I never was +on a horse except the wooden one in the Gym." + +"I'm glad I can beat you at something," she said, with exultant cruelty. +"I know you can row." + +"Shall we try another set?" he asked. + +"Not to-day, thank you. My self-respect will not stand another such +drubbing. I'm going in for a cold plunge. After that you may read to me +on the porch." + +"I'll be there with the largest tome in the library," he replied. + +Mrs. Joyce stopped him as he was going up-stairs to his room. "Victor, +don't worry about me. While it looks as though I have lost a good deal +of money through Pettus, I am by no means bankrupt. I am just about +where I was when I met your mother. She has not enriched me--I mean The +Voices have not--neither have they impoverished me. It's just the same +with Leo. She's almost exactly where she was when she came East. It +would seem as if they had been playing with us just to show us how +unsubstantial earthly possessions are." + +There was a certain comfort in this explanation, and yet the fact that +her losses had not eaten in upon her original capital did not remove the +essential charge of dishonesty which the man Aiken had brought against +the ghostly advisers. Florence and Thomas Aiken could not afford to be +so lenient. They were disinherited, cheated of their rightful legacy, by +the lying spirits. + +He was anxious, also, to know just how deeply Leo was involved in the +People's Bank; and when she came down to the porch he led her to a +distant chair beside a hammock on the eastern side of the house, and +there, with a book in his hand, opened his interrogations. + +He began quite formally, and with a well-laid-out line of questions, but +she was not the kind of witness to permit that. She broke out of his +boundaries on the third query, and laughingly refused to discuss her +losses. "I am holding no one but myself responsible," she said. "I was +greedy--I couldn't let well enough alone, that's all." + +"No, that is not all," he insisted. "My mother is charged with advising +people to put money into the hands of a swindler--" + +"I don't believe that. I think she was honest in believing that Pettus +would enrich us all. She was deceived like the rest of us." + +"But what becomes of the infallible Voices?" + +She laughed. "They are fallible, that's all. They made a gross blunder +in Pettus." + +"Mr. Bartol suggests that my mother may have been hypnotized by Pettus +and made to work his will, and I think he's right. He thinks the whole +thing comes down to illusion--to hypnotic control and telepathy." + +She looked thoughtful. "I had a stage of believing that; but it doesn't +explain all, it only explains a small part. Does it explain Altair to +you?" + +His glance fell. "Nothing explains Altair--nor that moaning wind--nor +the writing on the slates." + +"And the letter--have you forgotten that?" + +"Half an hour ago, as we were playing tennis, I _had_ forgotten it. I +was cut loose from the whole blessed mess--now it all comes back upon me +like a cloud." + +"Oh, don't look at it that way. That's foolish. I think it's glorious +fun, this investigating." + +He acknowledged her rebuke, but added, "It would be more fun if the +person under the grill were not one's own mother." + +"That's true," she admitted; "and yet, I think you can study her without +giving offense. I began in a very offensive way--I can see that now--but +she met my test, and still meets every test you bring. The faith she +represents isn't going to have its heart plucked out in a hurry, I can +tell you that." + +"The immediate thing is to defend her against this man Aiken. Mr. Bartol +said he would order up a lot of books, and I'm to cram for the trial. If +you have any book to suggest, I wish you'd write its title down for me." + +"What's the use of going to books? The judges will want the facts, and +you'll have to convince them that she is what she claims to be." + +"How can we do that? We can't exhibit her in a trance?" + +"You might. Perhaps her guides will give her the power." She glowed with +anticipatory triumph. "Imagine her confounding the jury! Wouldn't that +be dramatic! It would be like the old-time test of fire." + +He was radiant, too, for a moment, over the thought. Then his face grew +stern. "Nothing like that is going to happen. She would fail, and that +would leave us in worse case than before. Our only hope is to convince +the jury that she is not responsible for what her Voices say. We've got +to show she's auto-hypnotic." + +"I hope the trial will come soon." + +"So do I, for here I am eating somebody else's food, with no prospect of +earning a cent or finding out my place in the world. I don't know just +what my mother's idea was in educating me in classical English instead +of some technical course, but I'm perfectly certain that I'm the most +helpless mollusk that was ever kicked out of a school." + +Real bitterness was in his voice, and she hastened to add a word of +comfort. "All you need is a chance to show your powers." + +"What powers?" + +"Latent powers," she smiled. "We are all supposed to have latent powers. +I am seeking a career, too." + +He forgot himself in a return of his admiration of her. "Oh, you don't +have to seek. A girl like you has her career all cut out for her." + +She caught his meaning. "That's what I resent. Why should a woman's +career mean only marriage?" + +"I don't know--I guess because it's the most important thing for her to +do." + +"To be some man's household drudge or pet?" + +"No, to be some man's inspiration." + +"Fudge! A woman is never anybody's inspiration--after she's married." + +"How cynical you are! What caused it?" + +"Observing my married friends." + +"Oh, I am relieved! I was afraid it was through some personal +experience--" + +This seemed funny to them both, and they laughed together. "There's +nothing of 'the maiden with reluctant feet' about me," she went on. "I +simply refuse to go near the brink. I find men stupid, smelly, and +coarse." + +"I hate girls in the abstract--they giggle and whisper behind their +hands and make mouths; but there is one girl who is different." He tried +to be very significant at the moment. + +She ignored his clumsy beginning of a compliment. "All the girls who +giggle should marry the men who 'crack jokes'--that's my advice." + +"'Pears like our serious conversation is straggling out into +vituperation." + +"Whose fault is it?" + +"Please don't force me to say it was not my fault. I'm like Lincoln--I +joke to hide my sorrows." + +"Don't be irreverent." + +Through all this youthful give and take the boy and girl were studying +each other minutely, and the phrases that read so baldly came from their +lips with so much music, so much of hidden meaning (at least with +displayed suggestion), that each was tingling with the revelation of it. +The words of youth are slight in content; it is the accompanying tone +that carries to the heart. + +She recovered first. "Now let's stop this school-boy chatter--" + +"You mean school-girl chatter." + +"Both. Your mother is in a very serious predicament. We must help her." + +He became quite serious. "I wish you would advise me. You know so much +more about the whole subject than I do. I'm eager to get to work on the +books. I suppose it is too much to expect that they will come up +to-day?" + +"They might. I'll go and inquire." + +"No indeed, let me go. Am I not an inmate here?" He disappeared into the +house, leaving her to muse on his face. He began to interest her, this +passionate, self-willed, moody youth. She perceived in him the soul of +the conqueror. His swift change of temper, his union of sport-loving boy +and ambitious man made him as interesting as a play. "He'll make his +way," she decided, using the vague terms of prophecy into which a girl +falls when regarding the future of a young man. It's all so delightfully +mysterious, this path of the youth who makes his way upward to success. + +A shout announced his return, and looking up she perceived him bearing +down upon her with an armful of books. + +"Here they are!" he exulted. "Red ones, blue ones, brown ones--which +shall we begin on?" + +"Blue--that's my color." + +"Agreed! Blue it is." He dumped them all down on the wide, swinging +couch and fell to turning them over. "Dark blue or light blue?" + +"Dark blue." + +He picked up a fat volume. "_Mysterious Psychic Forces._ Know this +tome?" + +"Oh yes, indeed! It's wonderfully interesting." + +"I choose it! This color scheme simplifies things. Now, here's +another--_The Dual Personality_. How's that?" + +"Um! Well--pretty good." + +"_Dual Personality_ to the rear. Here's a brown book--_Metaphysical +Phenomena_." + +"That's a good one, too." + +"I'm sorry they didn't bind it in blue--and here's a measly, yellow, +paper-bound book in some foreign language--Italian, I guess, author, +Morselli." + +"Oh, that's a book I want to read. Let me take it?" + +"Do you read Italian?" + +"After a fashion." + +"Then I engage you at once to translate that book to me. What is it all +about?" + +He abandoned his seat on the couch and drew a chair close to hers. +"Begin at the first page and read very slowly all the way through. I +wish it were a three volume edition." + +She looked at him with side glance. "You're not in the least subtle." + +"I intended to have you understand that I enjoy the thought of your +reading to me. Did you catch it?" + +"I caught it. No one else ever suggested that I was stupid." + +"I didn't call you stupid. I think you're haughty and domineering, but +you're not stupid." + +"Thank you," she answered, demurely. + +Eventually they drew together, and she began to read the marvelous story +of the crucial experiments which Morselli and his fellows laid upon +Eusapia Palladino. Two hours passed. The robins and thrushes began their +evensong, the shadows lengthened on the lawn, and still these young folk +remained at their reading--Victor sitting so close to his teacher's side +that his cheek almost touched her shoulder. The sunset glory of the +material world was forgotten in the tremendous conceptions called up by +the author of this far-reaching book. + +Sweeter hours of study Victor never had. Seeing the rise and fall of his +interpreter's bosom and catching the faint perfume of her hair, he heard +but vaguely some of the sentences, and had to have them repeated, what +time her eyes were looking straight into his. At such moment she +reminded him of the dream-face that had bloomed like a rose in the black +night, for she was then very grave. Less ardent of blood than he, she +succeeded in giving her whole mind to the great Italian's thesis, and +the point of view--so new and so bold--stirred her like a trumpet. + +"I like this man," she said. "He is not afraid." + +Once or twice Mrs. Joyce looked out at them, but they made such a pretty +picture she had not the heart to disturb them. + +At seven o'clock she was forced to interrupt: "What _are_ you children +up to?" + +"Improving our minds," answered Leo. "Are we starting back? What time is +it?" + +Mrs. Joyce smiled. "That question is a great compliment to your company. +It's dinner-time." + +"Are we starting now?" + +"No; we're going to stay all night." + +"Fine!" shouted Victor. "I was wondering how I could put in the +evening." + +"It's time to dress," warned Mrs. Joyce. "This is no happy-go-easy +establishment. I never saw such perfection of service as Alexander +always has. I can't get it, or if I get it I can't keep it; while here, +with the master gone half the time, the wheels go like a chronometer." + +"It's all due to Marie. She worshiped Mrs. Bartol, and she venerates Mr. +Bartol." + +Mrs. Joyce cut her short. "Skurry to your room. We must not be late." + +As they were going into the house together, Leo said: "I think we would +better not let our elders read this book of Morselli's. It's too +disturbing for them--don't you think so?" + +"It certainly is a twister. However, mother doesn't read any foreign +language, so she's safe." + + + + +XII + +A MOONLIGHT CALL AND A VISION + + +Upon rising from the dinner table the young people returned to their +books, and at ten o'clock Leo lifted her eyes from her page. "Did some +one drive up?" + +Victor looked at her dazedly. "I didn't hear anybody. Proceed." + +"Mercy! It's ten o'clock. Where are Aunt Louise and your mother? I hear +Mr. Bartol's voice!" she exclaimed, rising hastily. "Let's go get the +latest news." + +The master of the house entered before the young people could shake off +the spell of what they had been imagining. + +"What a waste of good moonlight!" he exclaimed, with smiling sympathy. +"Why aren't you youngsters out on the lawn?" + +"It's all your fault," responded Leo. "We've been absorbing one of the +books you sent up." + +"Have you? It must have been a wonderful romance. I can't conceive of +anything but a love-story keeping youth indoors on a night like this." + +Victor defended her. "We've been reading of Morselli's wonderful +experiments. It's in Italian, and Miss Wood has been translating it for +me." + +"What luck you have!" exclaimed Mr. Bartol. "I engage her to +re-translate it for me at the same rate." + +Mrs. Ollnee and Mrs. Joyce came in as he was speaking, and Mrs. Joyce, +after disposing herself comfortably, said, "Well, what is your report?" + +He confessed that he had been too busy with other matters to give the +Aiken accusation much thought. "However, I sent an armful of books out +to my assistant attorney." He waved his hand toward Victor. + +"You don't mean to read books," protested Mrs. Joyce, energetically, +"when you've the very source of all knowledge right here in your own +house? Why don't you study your client and convince yourself of her +powers?--then you'll know what to do and say." + +"I had thought of that," he said, hesitantly. "But--" + +"You need not fear," Mrs. Joyce assured him. "It's true Lucy cannot +always furnish the phenomena on the instant. In fact, the more eager she +is the more reluctant the forces are; but you can at least try, and she +is not only willing but eager for the test." + +Bartol turned to Mrs. Ollnee. "Are you prepared now--to-night?" he +asked. + +"Yes, this moment," she answered. + +Mrs. Joyce exulted. "The power is on her. I can see that. See how her +hand trembles! One finger is signaling. Don't you see it?" + +Mr. Bartol rose. "Come with me into my study. Mrs. Joyce may come some +other time. I do not want any witnesses to-night," he added, with a +smile. + +Victor watched his mother go into Bartol's study with something of the +feeling he might have had in seeing her enter the den of a lion. She +seemed very helpless and very inexperienced in contrast with this great +inquisitor, so skilled in cross-examination, so inexorable in logic, so +menacing of eye. + +Leo, perceiving Victor's anxiety, proposed that they return to the +porch, and to this he acceded, though it seemed like a cowardly +desertion of his mother. "Poor little mother," he said. "If she stands +up against him she's a wonder." + +The girl stretched herself out on the swinging couch, and the youth took +his seat on a wicker chair close beside her. Mrs. Joyce kept at a decent +distance, so that if the young people had anything private to say she +might reasonably appear not to have overheard it. + +Talk was spasmodic, for neither of them could forget for a moment the +duel which was surely going on in that inner room. Indeed, Mrs. Joyce +openly spoke of it. "If Lucy is not too anxious, too eager, she will +change Alexander's whole conception of the universe this night." + +"Of course you're exaggerating, Aunt Louise; but I certainly expect her +to shake him up." + +"It only needs one genuine phenomenon to convince him of her sincerity. +What a warrior for the cause he would make! She must stay right here in +his house till she utterly overwhelms him. He took up her case at first +merely because I asked him to do so; but he likes her, and is ready to +take it up on her own account if he finds her sincere. But I want him to +believe in the philosophy she represents." + +Half an hour passed with no sign from within, and Mrs. Joyce began to +yawn. "That ride made me sleepy." + +"Why don't you go to bed?" suggested Leo. + +She professed concern. "And leave Lucy unguarded?" + +"Nonsense! Go to bed and sleep. Mr. Ollnee and I will stand guard till +the ordeal is ended." + +"I believe I'll risk it," decided Mrs. Joyce. "I can hardly keep my eyes +open." + +"Nor your mouth shut," laughed Leo. "Hasten, or you'll fall asleep on +the stair." + +Left alone, the young people came nigh to forgetting that the world +contained aught but dim stretches of moonlit greensward, dewy trees, and +the odor of lilac blooms. In the dusk Victor stood less in fear of the +girl, and she, moved by the witchery of the night and the melody of his +voice (into which something new and masterful had come), grew less +defiant. "How still it all is?" she breathed, softly. "It is like the +Elysian Fields after the city's noise and grime." + +"It's more beautiful out there." He motioned toward the lawn. "Let's +walk down the drive." + +And she complied without hesitation, a laugh in her voice. "But not too +far. Remember, we are guardian angels." + +As she reached his side he took her arm and tucked it within his own. +"You might get lost," he said, in jocular explanation of his action. + +"How considerate you are!" she scornfully responded, but her hand +remained in his keeping. + +There were no problems now. Down through the soft dusk of the summer +night they strolled, rapturously listening to the sounds that were +hardly more than silences, feeling the touch of each other's garments, +experiencing the magic thrill which leaps from maid to man and man to +maid in times like these. + +"How big you are!" exclaimed the girl. "I didn't realize how much you +overtopped me. I am considered tall." + +"And so you are--and divinely fair." + +"How banal! Couldn't you think of a newer one?" + +"It was as much as ever I remembered, that. I'm not a giant in poetry. +I'm a dub at any fine job." + +Of this quality was their talk. To those of us who are old and dim-eyed, +it seems of no account, perhaps, but to those who can remember similar +walks and talks it is of higher worth than the lectures in the Sorbonne. +Learning is a very chill abstraction on such a night to such a pair. +Would we not all go back again to this sweet land of love and +longing--if we could? + +Victor did not deliberately plan to draw Leonora closer to his side, and +the proud girl did not intend to permit him to do so; but somehow it +happened that his arm stole round her waist as they walked the shadowy +places of the drive, and their laggard feet were wholly out of rhythm to +their leaping pulses. + +The proof of Victor's naturally dependable character lay in the fact +that he presumed no further. He was content with the occasional touch of +her rounded hip to his, the caressing touch of her skirt as it swung +about his ankle. To have attempted a kiss would have broken the spell, +would have alarmed and repelled her. He honored her, loved her, but he +was still in awe of her proud glance and the imperious carriage of her +head. He preferred to think she suffered rather than invited the clasp +of his arm. + +She, on her part, was astonished and a little scared by her own +complaisant weakness, and as they came out into the lighter part of the +walk she disengaged herself with a self-derisive remark, and asked, "Do +you always take such good care of the arms of your girl friends?" + +"Always," he replied, instantly, though his heart was still in the +clutch of his new-born passion. + +"I shall be on my guard next time.... I see Mr. Bartol in the doorway. +Don't you think we'd better go in? What time do you suppose it is?" + +"The saddest time in the world for me if you are going to leave me." + +"Don't be maudlin." She had recovered her self-command, and was disposed +to be extra severe. "Sentimental nothings is hardly your strong point." + +"What is my strong point?" + +She was ready with an answer. "Plain down-right impudence." + +He, too, was recovering speech. "I'm glad I have _one_ strong trait. I +was afraid there was nothing about me to make a definite impression on a +proud beauty like you." + +"Please don't try to be literary. Stick to your oars and your baseball +raquet." + +"Bat," he corrected. + +"I meant bat." + +"I know you did; but you said raquet." + +In this juvenile spat they approached the porch where Mr. Bartol stood +waiting for them. + +"Young people," he called, in a voice that somehow voiced a deep +emotion, "do you realize that it is midnight?" + +Protesting their amazement, they mounted the steps and entered the +house; but the moment they looked into their host's face they became +serious, perceiving that something very tremendous had taken place in +his laboratory. + +"What has happened?" asked Leo. "What did she do?" + +"I don't know yet," he replied, strangely inconclusive in tone and +phrase. "I must think it all over. If I can persuade myself that the +marvels which I have witnessed are realities, the universe is an +entirely new and vastly different machine for me." + +Thrilling to the excitement in his face and in his voice, they passed +on. At the top of the stairs Leo faced Victor with eyes big with +excitement. "What do you suppose came to him?" + +"I haven't an idea. He seemed terribly wrought up, though." + +"We must say good-night." She held out her hand, and he took it. + +"This has been the finest, most instructive day of my life." + +She released her hand with a little decisive, dismissing movement. "How +nice of you! Signor Morselli should know of it. Good-night!" And the +smile with which she left him was delightfully provoking and mirthful. + +Victor would have gone straight to his mother had he known where to +find her, for he was eager to know what had taken place in the deeps of +Bartol's study. That she had been able to mystify the great lawyer, he +was convinced; and yet, perhaps, this was only temporary. "He will go +further. What will he find?" + +He was standing before his dresser slowly removing his collar and tie +when the door opened and his mother entered. She was abnormally wide +awake, and her eyes, violet in their intensity, betrayed so much +excitement that he exclaimed: "Why, mother, what's the matter? What kind +of a session did you have? What has happened to you?" + +"Victor, father tells me that Mr. Bartol will be convinced. He is the +greatest mind I have ever met. If I can bring him to a belief in the +spirit world it will be the most important victory of my life." + +"What did he say to you? What did he think?" + +"I don't know; and strange to say, I cannot read his mind. He seems +convinced of the phenomena, and yet I can't tell for certain. He was +skeptical at the beginning, as nearly every one is." + +Hitherto, at every such opening, Victor had rushed in to pluck the heart +out of her mystery, but now he restrained himself, for fear of trapping +her into some admission, which would make his own testimony more +difficult in court. He took a seat on the bed and regarded her with +meditative eyes, and she went on. + +"The Voices are clamoring round me still. They want to speak to you." + +"I don't want to hear them--not to-night," he replied, coldly. "Tell +them to wait and talk to me when Mr. Bartol is listening." + +She seemed disappointed and a little hurt by his tone. "Altair is here. +She wishes most to speak." + +Interest awoke in him. "What does she want of me?" + +She listened. "She says, '_Trust Mr. Bartol._'" + +He could see nothing, hear nothing, therefore his face lost its light. + +"Well, we've got to trust him. He's all the help in sight." + +Something, a breath, the light caress of a hand, passed over his hair, +and a whisper that was almost tone spoke in his ear, "_Fear nothing, if +you will be guided and protected._" + +Sweet as this voice was, it irritated him, for he could not disassociate +his mother from it. Indeed, it had something subtly familiar in its +utterance, and yet he could not accuse her of deceit. He only roughly +said: "Don't do that! I don't like that!" + +Silence followed, and then his mother sadly said: "You have hurt her. +She will not speak again." + +"Let her show herself. How do I know who is speaking to me? Let me see +her face again." He added this in a gentler voice, being moved by a +vivid memory of the exquisite picture Altair had made. + +After another pause Mrs. Ollnee answered: "She will do so. She says +soon. She has gone; but your father wants to speak to you." + +Victor rose impatiently. "Tell him to come again some other time. I'm +sleepy now." + +She turned away saddened by his manner, and with a gentle "good-night" +went softly from the room. + +Victor regretted his bluntness, but could not free himself from a +feeling that his mother's Voices were deceptive or imaginary, and her +visit hurt and disgusted him so deeply that the charm of his evening's +companionship with Leo was all but lost. "Part of her phenomena are +real, but these Voices--" He broke off and went to his bed with a vague +feeling of loss weighing him down. + +For a half-hour he lay in growing bitterness, and then quite suddenly he +thought he detected a thin, blue vapor rising from the rag rug at the +side of his bed, and for an instant he was startled. "Is it smoke? Or do +I imagine it?" As it rose and sank, expanded and contracted, he studied +it closely. It was not smoke, for it did not ascend. It was more like +filmy drapery tossed by a wind from a hidden aperture in the floor. +Motionless, amazed, and awed, he watched it, till out of it the face of +a woman looked, her wistful eyes touched with an accusing sorrow. It +was Altair, and her form became more real from moment to moment, until +at last he could detect the swell of her bosom, draped with the folds of +a shimmering white robe. As he waited a hand appeared at her side, +vaguely outlined, yet alive. He could see the fingers loosely clasped +about a rose. She was so beautiful that he lay gazing at her in +speechless wonder. "Am I dreaming?" he asked himself. "I _must_ be +dreaming." And yet he could feel the air from the window. + +In the light of her glance he forgot all his other loves and cares. His +worship for her returned like swift hunger, and he yearned to touch her, +to hear her voice. "She is a dream," he decided, and his hand, lifted to +test the vision, fell back upon the coverlet. + +As if reading his thought, Altair put out her right arm and touched his +wrist with a caress like the stroke of a beam of moonlight, so light and +cold it was. + +"_Victor_," she seemed to say, and his whisper was almost as light as +her own. + +"Who are you?" + +"_Don't you know me? I am Altair. Do not forget me._" + +"I will not forget you," he answered. "I can't forget you. Why do you +look so sad?" + +"_It is cold and empty where I dwell. I come to you for happiness and +warmth. You had forgotten me. You would not listen to my voice._" Her +reproach moved him almost to tears. + +"I could not see you. I was not sure." + +"_I do not accuse you. It is natural for you to love. When the day comes +you will seek another. One whose flesh is warm. Mine is cold. She is of +the day. I am of the night. But do not refuse to speak to me._" + +Her bust had grown fuller, more complete as she spoke, and yet from the +waist downward she seemed but a trailing garment of convoluting, +phosphorescent gauze. Her left hand still hung at her side, vague, +diaphanous, but her right lay upon her breast, as beautiful, as real as +firelit ivory, and her face seemed to glow as though with some inward +radiance. + +Victor could follow the exquisite line of her brow, and her eyes were +glorious pools of color, deep and dark with mystery and passion. Slowly +she sank as if kneeling, her stately head lowered, bent above him, and +he felt the touch of soft lips upon his own--a kiss so warm, so human +that it filled his heart with worship. Gently he lifted his hand, +seeking to draw her to him, and for an instant he felt her pliant body +in the circle of his arms--then she dissolved, vanished--like some +condensation of the atmosphere, and he was left alone, aching with +longing and despair. + +For a long time he waited, hoping she would return. He saw the moonlight +fade from the carpet. He heard the night wind amid the maple leaves, and +he knew he had not been dreaming, for that strange Oriental perfume +lingered in the air, and on the coverlet where her exquisite hand had +rested a white bloom lay, mystic and wonderful. He lifted it, and its +breath, sweeter than that of any other flower he had ever held, filled +him with instant languor and happy release of care. + +His next perception was that of sunlight. It was morning, and the kine +and fowls were astir. + +He looked for the mysterious flower, but it was gone. He sprang from his +bed and searched the room for it. "It did not exist," he sadly +concluded. "It has returned to the mysterious world from whence it +came." + +For a long time afterward he suffered with a sense of loss, while the +sunlight deepened in his room and the sounds of the barn-yard brought +back to him the realization that he was in effect a fugitive in the +house of a stranger. Slowly the normal action of his mind and body +resumed its sway, and he dressed, quite sure that something abnormal had +brought this vision to him. He wondered if he, too, were getting +mediumistic. "Am I to be a son of my mother? Am I to hear voices and see +visions?" he asked himself, with a note of alarm. He began to fear the +disintegrating effects of these experiences. His personality; his body +hitherto so solid, so stable, seemed about to develop disturbing +capabilities. + +He was profoundly pleased and reassured to find on his dressing-room +table a large white rose, a rose precisely like that which had been +laid upon his coverlet by the hand of the dream-woman. It's odor was the +same, and its petals were as fresh as if it had just been cut. It +reassured him by convincing him that his vision was real--that it had a +basis of physical change; but it also started a perplexing chain of +thought. "How came the rose here? Who brought it?" was his question. "It +certainly was not there when I went to bed." + +With the flower in his hand, he still stood looking down at the place +where the hand of Altair had rested--still marveling at this mingling of +the real and the fantastic, the dream and the rose, when something +shining revealed itself half concealed by the pillow; and putting out +his hand he took up a little brooch of turquoise set with diamonds, +which he recognized instantly as one that Leo had worn at her throat +when she said good-night. + +Sinking into a chair, he stared now at the jewel, now at the rose, while +a thrill of pride, of mastery, of joy stole through him. His blood +warmed. His heart quickened its beat. Could it be that Leo had been his +visitor? Was it possible that she, burning with hidden love of him, had +stolen to his room, and there at his bedside, masking herself as Altair, +had bent to his drowsy eyes, and laid upon his lips that fervid kiss? +The thought confused him, overpowered him, exalted him. + +His was a chivalrous nature, therefore this act, at the moment, seemed +neither unmaidenly nor wrong--indeed, it appeared very beautiful in his +eyes. It humbled him, made him wonder if he were worth the risk she had +run? He was not abnormally self-appreciative, but he had not been left +unaware of his appeal to women. His previous love-affairs had been those +of the undergraduate, proceeding under the jocular supervision of his +watchful fellows. His present case was in wholly different spirit. He +was a man now--in fact, his quarrel with Leo from the first had been +over her evident determination to treat him as a lad. + +The memory of her serene self-possession made her self-surrender of the +night all the more amazing to him. "It is cold and empty where I dwell," +she had said. This meant that she loved him--longed for him--it could +mean nothing else. Her love had begun during their ride on the lagoon, +in their delicious drowse on the grass. It had been deepened by their +afternoon of sweet companionship at tennis and over their books; then +came the walk in the moonlight and her acceptance of his caress in the +dusky place in the path--all were preparatory to this final wondrous +visit and confession. + +And yet her eyes had never been other than those of a friend. Seemingly +she had laughed at herself for the momentary weakness of yielding to his +arm. Her daylight expression had always been that of the humorous, +self-reliant, rather intellectual girl, who acknowledges no fear of man +and no sudden rush of passion, and yet--How reconcile the facts! + +He smiled to think how he had been deceived by her imperious air, by her +expressed contempt for his interest. "And all the while she was really +waiting for me to break through her reserve," he said; and this +delicious explanation satisfied him for a few moments, till he went +deeper into his memory of what she had said and done. + +He was forced to reassure himself again by the jewel and the rose that +she had really come to him, so dream-like did the whole ethereal episode +now seem. The more he dwelt upon the vision the deeper it moved him. +It's growing significance set his blood aflame. In fiction and poesy +women often sacrifice their reserve, moved by uncontrollable longing, +like the heroine of mad Ophelia's song, because commanded by something +stronger than their sweet selves. It was hard to think of Leo as one +carried out of herself by love--and yet here lay the jewel of her bosom +in his hand! How to meet her puzzled and excited him. + +Up to this minute he had admired her and had paid court to her as a +young man naturally addresses a handsome girl, but he was not violently +in love with her; indeed, she had interested him rather less than a girl +in Winona, daughter of Professor Boyden; but now, as he was about to +meet her in the breakfast-room, she possessed more power, more +significance, than any woman in the world. He recalled how fine and +helpful she had been during the few days of their acquaintance--her +serenity, her good sense, her pungent comment began to seem very +wonderful. + +He looked at himself in the glass, finding there a very good-looking, +stalwart youth, but could not discover anything to account for the +sudden blaze of Leonora's self-sacrificing passion. He was neither a +fool nor a peacock, and he tried to account for her love on the ground +of her regard for his mother. Then, like a flash of light, came the +thought, "She was sleep-walking!" + +He had read of the marvels of hypnotism and somnambulism. Perhaps in +some strange way his mother's desire to have Leo love her son had sent +the girl straight to his bedside. There was something uncanny in her +speech and in her gestures--only in her kiss had she been solidly, +warmly human. + +And yet all this seemed so difficult to believe--and besides, if the +girl came in her sleep, did it not prove her love quite as conclusively? +It might be unconscious, but it was there. + +With heart pounding mightily, and face set and stern, he left his room +and began descending the stairway, uncertain still of the way in which +he should meet her. + +Happily he found no one in the dining-room but the maid, who said to +him, "Mr. Bartol would like to see Mr. Ollnee in his study as soon as +Mr. Ollnee has had his breakfast." + +"Very well," he replied; "I will make short work of breakfast this +morning." + +As he sat thus awaiting Leo, his mind filled with the wonder of her +self-surrender, he considered carefully in what way he should greet her. +"She must not know that I know," he decided. "I will greet her as if I +had not found the brooch, and I will leave it where she will happen upon +it accidentally." + + + + +XIII + +VICTOR TESTS HIS THEORY + + +He was still at breakfast, deeply engaged with his alluring vision, when +Mrs. Joyce and his mother entered the room. As he rose to greet them +Mrs. Joyce asked, "Have you seen Mr. Bartol?" + +"Not yet--but he is up. I am to see him soon. Where is Leo?" + +"She is not feeling very brisk this morning, and is taking her coffee in +bed." + +He said no more, but resumed his seat, richer by this added proof of the +deep perturbation through which the girl had passed. He was +disappointed, and eager to see her, but the conviction that she had been +sleepless from love of him put him among the clouds. He would have +forgotten his appointment with Bartol had not the maid reminded him of +it. Even then he tried to avoid it. "You're sure he wanted me? Didn't he +mean my mother?" + +"I'm quite sure he said Mister Ollnee." + +"Mother, what do you suppose he wants of me?" + +"I don't know, Victor. Perhaps he wants to talk over the trial." + +"Come back and tell us as soon as you can," commanded Mrs. Joyce. "I'm +crazy to know what he did last night, and what he really thinks of us?" + +Victor promised to report, and went away to his interview with a vague +alarm disturbing the blissful self-satisfaction of the early morning. + +He found Bartol seated at a big table with a writing-pad before him and +four or five open volumes disposed about as if for reference. He, too, +looked old and worn and rather grim, but he greeted his guest politely. +"Good-morning. Have you seen your mother this morning?" + +"Yes, I have just left her at breakfast." + +"How is she?" + +"She seems quite herself--a little pale, perhaps." + +"Be seated, please. I want to go over our case with you. First of all, I +want you to tell me once more, and in full detail, all you know of your +mother's life. Begin at the beginning and leave nothing out. Don't +theorize or try to explain--give me the facts as you have observed +them." + +This was not the kind of business to which a love-exalted youth would +set himself, but Victor squared himself before the brooding face and +deep-set eyes of his host, and entered once more upon the story of the +"ghost-room," which had been the one dark spot in his childhood, and +which became again in a moment the overshadowing torment of his young +manhood. + +As he talked the intent look of the man before him, his short, sharp, +significant questions inspired him. He poured forth in eloquent and +moving phrase the story of his sudden awakening to a knowledge that his +mother was a paid medium, and under persecution by the press of the +city. He told of his sittings with her, wherein he had savagely +determined to unmask her for her own good. He admitted his complete +failure. He related his experiences during the time she lay in deathly +trance, and his voice lost its smooth flow as he approached the most +marvelous experience of all, when the vast and murmuring wind blew +through the small room and Altair came with sad, sweet face, to bewitch +him and to shake his conceptions of the universe to their foundation +stones. He confessed his bewilderment and confusion, and ended by +saying: "It's all unnatural, diseased. I can't believe it is the real +side of things." + +"I wonder that you kept your head at all," remarked Bartol. "Your youth +and good, hot blood protect you. Have you talked with your mother about +our sitting?" + +"Only a few words. She came to my room last night and told me she had +only a dim recollection of what took place. She said The Voices wanted +to talk to me--but I didn't want them to talk to me--and said so--and +she went away." + +Bartol mused. "Belief is not a matter of evidence; it is a habit of +mind. I find myself unable to follow the evidence of my own senses. My +tests of your mother last night convinced me at the moment that she had +the right to claim supernormal powers. She seemingly turned matter into +a mere abstraction, and made the learning of physicists the chatter of +children." As he spoke his memory of what he had seen freshened and his +excitement increased. His voice deepened and his eyes glowed. "Here are +my notes of what took place, and I have spent the night in comparing my +observations with those of Sir William Crookes concerning the medium +Home. In a certain very real sense the phenomena I witnessed were quite +as marvelous as those Crookes chronicled." He rose and began to walk up +and down the room. "And yet this morning I do not believe--I cannot +believe--that writing was precipitated in a closed book held in my hand, +that a pen rose of its own volition and tapped upon the table. + +"The tendency of any mind, any science, is to harden, to crystallize, to +reach a stopping point. The student is prone to think that the knowledge +of the physical universe which we have must be the larger part of all +that is knowable--and that soon we will have gathered it all into our +text-books. Of course this is the sheerest self-delusion. A little +thought will make clear that all we know is as nothing compared to that +which remains to be known. Up to ten o'clock last night I was one of +those who believe that the domain of nature is pretty thoroughly mapped +out, staked, and plowed by the investigator, but this morning I find my +horizons again extended. It would be foolish to say that an hour's +experiments and a night of reading along new lines had overturned all +the landmarks of biologic science; but I confess that the world for me +has greatly changed. I held in my hand last night a force _in action_ +for which science has no name and no place--and yet thirty years ago Sir +William Crookes wrote of this same force in the spirit with which he +discussed other elements and powers, and yet his testimony is not +accepted by his fellows even to-day. + +"Your mother met every test cheerfully and instantly, and demonstrated +to me, as Home did to Crookes, as Slade did to Zöllner, that matter, as +we think we know it, does not exist. She convinced me not merely of her +honesty, but of her high powers as a psychic. A calm, persistent, +logical purpose ran through all her manifestations, and her +Voices--whatever they may mean to you--advised me to sit again with her +and to have you and Miss Wood, Mrs. Joyce, and Marie always in the +circle. This I intend to do. I feel at this moment as if no other +business mattered. I have been here at my desk since midnight, reading, +comparing notes, trying to convince myself that I have not gone suddenly +mad. + +"If I was not utterly deceived, if your fresh, keen young eyes are of +any use whatsoever, if the words of Crookes, Wallace, Lombroso, and +their like are of any weight, then we have in your mother a rare and +subtle organism whose powers are of more importance than the rings of +Saturn or the canals of Mars." + +Victor was awed, carried out of himself and his small concerns by the +deep voice of the great lawyer as he formulated his impassioned yet +restrained musings. It was evident that he welcomed this opportunity of +putting his thoughts into words, of ordering his words into argument. +Half in reverie and half in conscious statement to the entranced youth, +he poured forth his troubled soul. + +"I was a materialist when your mother entered my house. I believed that +the man who died went out like a candle. The grave was the end. To me +the so-called revelations of Buddha, Gautama, Christ, were the vague +dreams of the heart-sick, the stricken mourners of the earth--not one of +them brought a beam of hope--but in this modern spirit of +experimentation, in the work of Crookes and his like, I see +a ray of light. Your mother's impersonations of my wife, her +messages--Voices--may be due to mind-reading, to clairvoyance, but _the +method of their delivery_ certainly lies beyond any known law. In that +glows my hope. Grant the possibility of direct writing, of the power of +the mind to _think_ its will upon paper without the aid of hand or pen, +and a whole new world is opened up, the horizons of life are infinitely +extended." + +He paused abruptly. "I was weary of my days. Yesterday I moved as a +creature of habit. This morning it seems that I have a new interest. I +am convinced that in defending your mother I am defending something +precious to the human race; but I must be very sure of my ground. I must +scrutinize every phase of her power, and you must help me. You are young +and well-trained. You have a good mind, and I am persuaded you will go +far. Your mother worships you, lives for you. Now, you and I together +must make such study of her mediumship as America has never seen--a +study which shall have nothing to do with any ism, fad, or prejudice. +Will you help me?" + +Victor, overwhelmed by the confidence of the great lawyer, by the honor +which this plea laid upon his young shoulders, could only stammer, "I +will do my best." + +Bartol thanked him. "I see now, as I never did before, that this power +is a subtle, personal, psychical adjustment, and the part you are to +play is a double one. First, you are her son, and your presence and +influence are indispensable. Secondly, you are vigorous and alert, +comparatively free from the wrecking effect of bereavement such as +mine. I confess I cannot trust myself in the face of the supposed appeal +of my dead. I am like the doctor who refuses to practise upon his own +child--my desires blind me. At the same time I see that we cannot thrust +strangers upon your mother, especially in her present excited state. +What I propose is a series of private experiments, including chemical +tests, instantaneous photographs, and the like, which shall convince +both judge and jury of the reality of these phenomena. This case will +come before my friend, Judge Matthews, and we have in him a just and +penetrating mind. If I can make him feel my own present conviction we +may rest our case safely with any unprejudiced jury." + +He paused and picked up a volume from the table. "Crookes is explicit. +He says he _saw_ the lath move without visible cause, he _saw_ Home +thrust his hand into the hearth and stir the coals, he _saw_ the +accordion play without any reason; and in all this he is sustained by +other men testing each phenomenon by means of electrical registering +devices. Now we must duplicate these. We must go into court armed with +photographs, records, and witnesses. We will make this a _cause +célèbre_--doing our small part to forward this superb and fearless +European movement. I intend to be both lawyer and physicist hereafter," +he ended, with a smile. + +That the great lawyer was now completely engaged upon his mother's +defense Victor exultantly perceived, and it gave him a feeling of pride +and security, but this was followed by a sense of being uprooted. The +sight of this man, inspired yet confounded by what had come to him in a +single sitting, brought new and disturbing force to all that had +happened to himself. Was it possible that thought could be precipitated +like dew upon a sheet of paper? + +"Now," resumed Bartol, "I have made a further discovery. There is a +brotherhood of what we may call true experimentalists--beginning with +Marc, Thury, and the Count de Gasparin, and running to Flammarion and +Richet, in Paris; the Dialectical Society, Sir William Crookes, Alfred +Russell Wallace, Sir Oliver Lodge, in England; thence back to the +Continent, to Zöllner, Aksakof, Ochorowicz, De Rochas, Maxwell, +Morselli, and Lombroso. I need a condensed record of these experiments, +and a synopsis of each theory. Once within this group, you will learn by +cross-reference the names of all those whom each of these +experimentalists regard as reliable. You can work here or take the books +to your room--perhaps, on the whole, Morselli's record is first in +importance. Bring me a clear and full abstract of that as soon as you +can." + +"I do not read Italian," confessed Victor; "but Leo--Miss Wood--does; +perhaps she will help me." + +"Very good. Now as to the mechanical side of this matter. I have a +nephew who is an expert photographer and a clever electrician. With your +permission, I will send for him and see what he can do. He is a man of +high standing in his profession, and a quiet personality--one that will +not irritate or alarm your mother. Shall I bring him in and give her +over to all?" + +"Certainly. I'm sure mother wants you to have full charge." + +"Very well. We will set to work at once, for our case may come up this +week. At its lowest terms, the Aiken charge involves--to us--the +admission that our client is highly suggestible and that she has been +used as an unconscious stool-pigeon by Pettus. For the present we must +proceed upon this basis. Suggestion is more or less accepted at the +present time, and we may be able to get the jury to admit our plea; but +I will not conceal from you the fact that your mother stands in danger +of severe punishment. The _Star_ has singled her out as a scapegoat, and +is behind the Aikens. They will push her hard. I do not think they will +follow her here, but if they do I shall send you to my nephew's +home.--Now to Morselli. We must know just where he stands on this +amazing branch of biology. Will you make this synopsis to-day?" + +Victor's eyes glowed with the fire of his awakened pride and resolution. +"If you'll let me help you, Mr. Bartol, I'll show you what my training +has been. I'm quick in some things. I will collate and put in order all +the latest deductions of science--" He stopped. "But what exactly do you +intend to do with my mother?" + +"I mean to confine her in such wise as to demonstrate precisely what she +can do and what she cannot. I must divide what is conscious from that +which is unconscious. I must understand precisely how she produces these +messages, voices, and faces. We are agreed that she is not _consciously_ +deceptive?" He questioned Victor with a glance. + +"I _know_ she is honest." + +"Very well, we must demonstrate her honesty. We must photograph her +so-called materializations side by side with her own body, and we must +register the work of these invisible hands, and in every possible way +demonstrate that she is the medium and not the originating cause of +these messages. In no other way can we save her from disgrace and a +prison cell." + +The youth went away with a humming sound in his head. The thought of his +gentle little mother herded with vile women within the gray walls of a +penitentiary filled him with such horror that his face went drawn and +white. "It shall not be! I will not have it so!" he said, and yet he saw +no other way in which to prevent it. All depended upon the man whose +impassioned words still rang in his ears, and his admiration for the +lawyer rose to that love which youth yields to the highest manhood. + +Mrs. Joyce met him in the hall, excited, eager. "What did he say?" + +Victor passed his hand over his face in bewilderment. "I must think," he +protested. "He said so much--Where is mother?" + +"She is on the porch--waiting. Let us go out to her." + +He followed her with troubled face, but the bright sunshine and the +songs of the birds miraculously restored him. He looked up and down the +piazza hoping to see Leo, but she was not in sight. He took a seat in +silence, and Mrs. Joyce saw his mother grow pale in sympathy as she read +the trouble in his face. + +Mrs. Joyce urged him to tell what had passed between them, and he +replied: + +"I can't do it. All I can say is this: he believes mother is honest, and +that she has some strange power. He will defend her in court; but he +intends to study into the whole business very closely, and he wants us +to help him." + +"Of course we'll help him," responded Mrs. Joyce, readily. + +Mrs. Ollnee went to the heart of the problem. "Just what does he want to +do, Victor?" + +"It is necessary to prove absolutely that you have nothing to do with +these phenomena." + +"But I do have everything to do with them," she replied; "that's what +being a medium means. However, I know what he needs better than you do. +He wants to prove that the messages are supra-normal. Very well, I am +ready for any test." + +"It will be a fierce one, mother. He intends to use electricity and +machines for recording movements and instantaneous photography." + +"I am willing, provided he will proceed in co-operation with your father +and Watts." + +"He will never do that," declared Victor. "He will not begin by granting +the very thing he's trying to prove." + +It was upon this most solemn conference that Leo descended, pale and +restrained, and though Victor sprang up with new-born love in his face, +she did not flush with responding warmth. Her mood of the moonlit walk +had utterly vanished, and he found himself checked, chilled, and thrust +down from his high place of exaltation. + +It was as if she (ashamed of her own weakness) had resolved to punish +him for presumption. He smarted under her indifference, but made no open +protest, though his hand (in the pocket of his coat) rested upon the +jeweled sign of her self-surrender. + +She lost a little of her indifference when she learned that Bartol had +been kept awake all night by the significance of the phenomena he had +witnessed, and she joined heartily in declaring that he must be met in +every demand. "Oh, I wish I might see the experiments," she exclaimed. + +"He wishes you to do so," replied Victor, eagerly. "The Voices told him +to have you in the circle, you and Mrs. Joyce--" + +"And Marie," added Mrs. Ollnee. "Marie is psychic." + +"When do we try?" asked Leo, meeting his eyes a little unsteadily, so it +seemed to him. + +Again Mrs. Ollnee answered for him. "To-night; Mr. Bartol is telephoning +now, arranging for it." + +"How do you know?" asked Victor. + +"Your father is speaking to me." + +"I hear him!" exclaimed Mrs. Joyce, listening intently. + +"What does he say?" asked Leo. + +Mrs. Ollnee again replied. "He says: '_Be brave--trust us. We will +protect you._'" + +Looking across at the girl, in whose cheeks the roses were beginning to +bloom again, the youth resented the interposition of the supernatural. +He was eager to approach her, to hint at the memory of her secret, sweet +embrace. As he studied the exquisite curve of her lips their touch +burned again upon his flesh, and he rose with sudden reassertion of +himself. "Come, Leo, let's return to Morselli." + +He had never called her by her first name before, and it produced a +shock in them both. She looked her reproof, but he pretended not to see +it, and neither Mrs. Joyce nor Mrs. Ollnee seemed to think his +familiarity worthy of remark. + +Leo coldly answered: "I can only give a little time. We must go home +to-day." + +Mrs. Joyce promptly said, "We can't desert the ship now, Leo." + +"But we have nothing to wear!" the girl retorted. + +"We'll send down and have some things brought up. Really, this work for +Mr. Bartol is more important than clothes." + +"I suppose it is," Leo admitted. "But at the same time one should have a +decent regard to the conventions." + +The colloquy which followed filled Victor with dismay. It appeared that +Leo was really eager to get away, as if she felt herself to be in a +false position. "I can't afford to drop my daily affairs in the city. +Why can't these experiments be put off for a day or two." + +"I don't think we ought to ask a great and busy lawyer to accommodate +himself to our piffling social plans," replied Mrs. Joyce. "A few +minutes ago you were wild to join these experiments, now you are crazy +to go home." + +Victor, who imagined himself in full possession of the reason for her +pause, said nothing; but his eyes spoke, and the girl was restless under +his glance. + +She gave in at last. "Well, if you will send for the things I need--" + +Victor had come from Bartol's study mightily resolved to do speedily and +well any work that might fall to his hand, but as he found himself +seated close beside the daylight girl and listening to her voice +transposing Morselli into English his resolution weakened. What were +ghosts, inventions, theories, compared to the satin-smooth curve of the +maiden's cheek or the delicate flutter of her lashes? + +Try as he would, his attention wandered. The book smelled of the clinic, +the girl of the dawn. Morselli's problem was all of the night, while on +every side the young lover beheld trees flashing green mirrors to the +sun, and flowers riding like dainty boats on the billows of a soft +western wind. Moreover, the girl's voice was like to the purling of +brooks. + +Twice she reproved him for his wandering wits and laggard pen, and the +second time he said: "I can't help it. The time and place invite to +other occupations. Let's go for a walk." + +"A brave student, you are!" she mocked. "Mr. Bartol will find you a +valuable aid in his scientific investigations!" + +Her look, her flushed cheek, and the hint of her bosom set him +a-tremble. The memory of his midnight visitor returned, filling him with +springtime madness. + +"Don't you make game of me," he stammered, warningly. "If you +do--I'll--" + +She raised an amused glance. "What? What will you do, boy?" + +"Boy!" Her pose, her smile were challenges that struck home. With swift, +outflung arm, he encircled her waist and drew her to his breast. "Boy, +am I?" + +She beat upon him, pushed him with her small hands. "Let me go, brute!" + +He laughed at her, exulting in his strength. "Oh, I am a brute now, am +I? Well, I'm not. I'm a man and your master. I want a kiss." + +She ceased to struggle, but into her face and voice came something which +paralyzed his arms. Repentant and ashamed, he released her and stood +before her humbly, while she denounced him for "a rowdy with the manners +of a burglar." "This ends our acquaintance," she added, and she spurned +the book on the floor as if it were his worthless self. + +He was scared now, and boyishly pleaded, "Don't go--don't be angry; I +was only joking." + +She knew better than this. She had seen elemental fire flaming from his +eyes, and dared not remain. With proud lift of head she walked away, +leaving him penitent, bewildered, crushed. + + + + +XIV + +THE ORDEAL + + +In truth, Victor had not kept his head--how could he when each day +brought some new temptation, some unexpected danger, or an unforeseen +barrier? Was ever such a week of trial and perplexity thrust upon a +youth? And the worst of it lay in the fact that there were no signs of a +release from these baffling foes. Love's distress now came to add to his +bewilderment and alarm. + +Leo did not appear at luncheon, and her absence gave him great +uneasiness till Mrs. Joyce explained that she had only gone to town to +fetch some needed clothing. He still carried the little breast-pin in +his pocket, but it no longer seemed the gage of a lovely girl's +affection. He began to admit that he might be mistaken, and that his +dream-woman and the jewel had no necessary connection. "One of the +servants may have dropped it there," he now admitted; "and yet how could +that be? It was under my pillow when I woke, and I am sure it was not +there when I went to sleep. Perhaps I am the one who walks in sleep. +Can it be possible that I took it from her room?" + +It was all very puzzling, but he no longer possessed the fatuous +self-conceit necessary to charge Leo with such self-abandonment as the +dream and the discovery of the brooch had at first seemed to indicate. +He sat among his elders at table, silent and depressed, very far from +the triumphant mood of the morning, and yet the stream of his admiration +set toward the absent one with ever stronger current. The most important +thing in all the world, at the moment, was the winning of her forgiving +smile. + +Bartol was equally distraught, and though he remained politely attentive +to his guests, he was plainly absorbed by some inner problem, and left +to Mrs. Joyce the burden of the conversation. + +Mrs. Ollnee, listless and remote, glanced at her host occasionally in +the manner of one who awaits an expected sign. To her son this attitude +on her part was repellant, for he understood it to mean that she was +neither mother nor guest, but an instrument. He wondered whether Bartol +had not, by some overmastering power of the mind, already assumed +control of her thoughts as well as of her actions; and he chafed under +the pressure of his host's abstraction. "Oh, why can't she quit this +business? She must stop it!" he furiously declared. + +Altogether they made a serious and restrained company, and all felt the +loss of Leo. As the meal progressed Mrs. Joyce tried to secure from +Bartol some notion of what his plans were, and he gravely replied: + +"None of you must know. No one shall enter my 'ghost-room' till I am +ready for my tests. In fact, I think I shall send you all out for a +drive this afternoon so that you may not even _hear_ the tap of a +hammer." + +Victor protested that he ought to study, and to this Bartol replied: +"Very well. Take a book with you, but go off the farm. I want to be able +to say that not one of the persons most interested were on the place +while my preparations were going on." + +In truth, the man of law was not merely puzzled by the method of +transmitting the messages; he had been profoundly affected by the words +themselves. His wife and daughter had apparently spoken to him again, +each in distinctive way, upon matters which no one but himself could +recognize. + +But it was not alone what he had himself seen and heard and felt. The +reading to which he had set himself had opened a new world of science +for him. He was amazed at the enormous amount of direct evidence +gathered and presented by careful men. Chemists applying the methods of +the retort, biologists working in their own laboratories, psychologists +and medical experts experimenting as upon a clinical subject, presented +the same or similar facts. In Austria, in Russia, in England, the +results were identical. To his mind, accustomed to sift and relate +evidence, the most convincing thing of all was the substantial agreement +of each and all of these investigators. In a certain sense the sneer of +the faithful was deserved. These men of X-ray penetration and electrical +annunciators had succeeded only in paralleling the phenomena of the +early days of the healer and the magician. + +At its lowest terms--or, as some would say, at its highest terms--Mrs. +Ollnee's power was related to a sort of transcendental physics. Her +magic refilled the most ordinary block of wood or crumb of granite with +all its ancient potency. It widened and deepened the physical universe +inimitably. It discovered the human organism to be unspeakably subtle +and complicate, and made of the soul a visible demonstrable entity. +Unthinkably swift as are the vibrations of the radium ray, this +substance called the brain is capable of receiving, recording, giving +off still more intricate and marvelous motions. Of what avail to call it +"material"? + +At times he glimpsed (as through a narrow opening) unknown regions of +space, not of three or four dimensions, but an infinite number of worlds +within worlds interpenetrating, undying, yet forever changing. At such +moments he perceived that the scientists of to-day were but children +groping among the set scenery of a dark stage, their text-books like +their Bibles, the records of the bewildered and stumbling myriads of +the past. + +"How absurd," he said, "to attempt to make the present conform with the +past! The Hebrew scriptures, the Vedas, the Sagas of the North, are all +useful as records of the aspirations of primitive men, but the real +understanding of the universe is to be obtained now or in the future. +The present contains all that the past has possessed and more. Men are +less of the beast and more of the spirit. Their powers have intensified, +grown psychic, compelling, revealing, and yet the mystery of the +universe remains and must remain." + +In such ways and others his mind ran as he read swiftly through the +wondrous record of experiments made in Rome, in Naples, in Milan. He +liked these Italians better than the greatest of the Englishmen for the +reason that they uttered no apology to the Pope. They proceeded on the +assumption that they were biologists, not priests. They had no care +whether their discoveries harmonized with some man's Bible, or whether +they did not. The question was simple: Could the human organism put +forth from itself a supernumerary hand or arm? Could it project an +etheric double of itself? Could it interpenetrate matter? + +Along these lines he proposed (with Victor's aid) to study his psychic +guest. He had lost sight of the fact that he was to be her defender in +court--or if he remembered it, it was only as a secondary consideration. +He had no faintest hope of directly proving the continued existence of +his wife and children; but he could see that a demonstration of the +power of the living body to project and maintain at a distance an +etheric brain, a voice, made (by inference) a belief in immortality +possible. + +This belief, this possible life of the soul, had nothing to do with the +systems of celestial cosmogony built up by the followers of Christ or +Gautama, its world was not peopled with angels, gods, or devils; it was +merely another and inter-fusing material region wherein the spirit of +man could move, retaining at least a dim memory of the grosser material +plane from which it fled. It was inconceivable, of course, when +scrutinized directly; but he caught a glint of its wonders now and then, +as if from the corner of his half-closed eye. + +These physical marvels were kept very near to him, as he sat at his +desk, by minute tappings on his penholder, on his chair-back, and by +fairy chimes rung on the cut-glass decanter at his elbow. At times he +felt the light touch of hands, and once, as he returned to his seat +after a visit to the library, he found a sheet of strange parchment +thrust under his book, and on this was written in exquisite +old-fashioned script: "_Thou hast thy comfort and thy instrument. Hold +not thy hand._" And it was signed "Aurelius." + +This was all very startling; but he referred it to Mrs. Ollnee herself. +To imagine it a direct message from the dead was beyond him. + +At four o'clock the road-wagon brought from the station a small, alert, +and business-like young fellow, accompanied by various boxes, parcels, +and bags. Bartol met him at the door and took him at once to his study. +Neither of them was seen again till dinner-time. + +The servants were profoundly excited by all this, but were too well +trained to betray their curiosity above stairs. They knew now who Mrs. +Ollnee was, but they believed in their master's government and listened +to the hammering in the study with impassive faces--while at their +duties in the hall or dining-room--but permitted themselves endless +conjecture in their own quarters. Marie alone took no part in these +discussions, though she seemed more excited than any of the others. + +Meanwhile, Victor watched and waited in a fever of anxiety for Leo's +return. At five o'clock she came, but went directly to her room. + +Marie met her tense with excitement. "Oh, Miss Leo, Master has asked me +to sit in the circle to-night, and I'm scared." + +"You mean Mr. Bartol has asked you?" + +"Yes--Miss." + +"Well, you should feel exalted, Marie. It will be a wonderful +experience." + +"I suppose so, Miss, but my hands are all cold and my stomach sick with +thinking of it." + +Leo laughed. "You're psychic, that's what's the matter with you." + +"Oh, do you think so!" + +"Let me take your hands." Marie gave them. Leo smiled. "Cold and wet! +Yes, you are _it_! But don't let it interfere with dinner. I'm hungry as +a bear. Cheer up. I'd give anything to be a psychic." + +"I shall flunk it, Miss; I can't go through it, really." + +"Nonsense! It will be good as a play." + +Half an hour later the others came in, and Leo heard Victor's voice in +the hall with a feeling of distaste. She had gone out to him during that +moonlit walk, and was suffering now a natural revulsion. It had not been +love; it had been (she admitted) only physical attraction, and the +fault, the weakness, had been hers. His presuming upon her moment of +compliance was of the nature of man. It had frightened her to discover +such deeps within herself. "We are all animals at bottom," she charged, +in the unnatural cynicism of youth. + +Notwithstanding this mood, she clothed herself handsomely in a gown +which lent beauty to the exceedingly dignified rôle she designed to +play, and so costumed went to her aunt's room to hear the news. + +Mrs. Joyce was lying down, and her voice sounded tired as she said: "We +were ordered out of the house at three, and have been driving ever +since. Alexander, so Marie says, has had strange men working all the +afternoon on some contrivance in his study. Evidently he is going to be +very scientific." + +Leo exclaimed with delight. "Now we'll see if these faces and forms are +real or not." + +"Why, Leo! Do you doubt?" + +"Yes, deep in my heart I do. I cannot quite free myself from the belief +that in some way Lucy produces all these effects." + +"Of course she transmits them. She's a medium." + +"I don't mean it that way--and I don't mean that she cheats; but somehow +I never feel as if anything real came to me direct." + +Mrs. Joyce did not feel able to pursue this line of argument. "What's +the matter between you and Victor?" + +"Who told you anything was the matter?" + +"I sensed it." + +"Well, why didn't you sense the cause?" + +"He's a nice boy; you mustn't ill-treat him, Leo." + +"Your solicitude is misplaced; you should be concerned about me." + +"You? Trust you to take care of yourself! I never knew a more +self-sufficient young person. I am only waiting for some man to teach +you your place." + +This was a frequent subject of very plain though jocular allusion +between them. "A man may--some time--but not a rowdy boy. How does Lucy +take the promise of a test?" + +"Very calmly. She is relying wholly on her 'band' to protect her. She +feels the importance of the trial, and does not shrink from it." + +The Miss Wood whom Victor met as he entered the dining-room that night +was precisely the young lady he had first seen, a calm, smiling, +superior person who looked down upon him with good-humored tolerance of +his youth and sex, putting him into the position of the bad little boy +who has promised not to do so again. She not merely loftily forgave him, +she had apparently minimized the offense, and this hurt worst of all. +"I'm sorry not to have been able to work to-day," she said; "but I +really had to go to town." + +This lofty, elderly sister air after her compliance to his arm +eventually angered him. His awe, his gratitude of the morning were +turned into the man's desire to be master. He set his jaws in sullen +slant and bided his time. "You can't treat me in this way when we're +alone," he said, beneath his breath. + +Later he was hurt by her vivid interest in the young inventor, whom +Bartol introduced as Stinchfield. He was a small man with a round, red +face and laughing blue eyes, but he spoke with authority. His knowledge +was amazing for its wide grasp, but especially for its precision. He +guessed at nothing; he knew--or if he did not know he said so frankly. +In the few short years of his professional career he had been associated +with some of the greatest masters of matter. His acquaintances were all +men of exact information and trained judgment, men who lived amid +physical miracles and wrought epics in steel and stone. + +Naturally he absorbed the attention of the table, for in answer to +questions he touched upon his career, and his talk was absorbing. He had +been a year at Panama. He had helped to survey the route for a vast +Colorado irrigating tunnel, and in his spare moments had perfected a +number of important inventions in automobile construction. + +It was for all these reasons that Bartol had 'phoned him, urging him to +come out and assist in the infinitely more important work of reducing to +law the phenomena which sprang, apparently without rule or reason, from +the trances of his latest and most interesting client. "Here is your +chance to get a grip on the phenomena that have puzzled the world for +centuries," he said. + +When Mrs. Joyce asked Stinchfield if he knew anything about spirit +phenomena, he replied, candidly: + +"Not a thing, directly, Mrs. Joyce. Of course I have read a good deal, +but I have never experimented. It is not easy to secure co-operation on +the part of those gifted with these powers. The trouble seems to be they +consider themselves in a sense priests, keepers of a faith, whereas I +have the natural tendency to think of them in terms of physics." + +Bartol, smiling, raised a hand. "I don't want the company drawn into +controversy. Experts agree that argument defeats a psychic." + +Mrs. Ollnee still wore the look of one who but half listens to what is +said, and Mrs. Joyce slyly touched her hand with the tips of her +fingers. "Do you want to go to your room?" she asked. + +Mrs. Ollnee shook her head. "No, I am all right." + +"We will have better results if we 'cut out' dessert," Mrs. Joyce +explained to Bartol. "Over-eating has spoiled many a séance." + +"Is it as physical as that?" exclaimed Stinchfield. + +"I never eat when I am on a hard case," said Bartol. + +Victor began to awaken to the crucial nature of the test which was about +to be made of his mother's powers. This laughing young physicist was +precisely the sort of man to put the screws severely on. It was all a +problem in mechanics for him. Whether the psychic suffered or rejoiced +in the operation did not concern him. "If she is deceiving us in any way +he will discover it," the son forecasted, with a feeling of fear at his +heart. "And yet how can I defend her?" + +Bartol said to Mrs. Ollnee: "Would you mind dressing for the +performance? I'd like you to go with Mrs. Joyce and Marie, and clothe +yourself in all black if possible, so that I can say you came into my +study not merely searched, but re-clothed." + +She said, quite simply: "I have no objection at all. I am in your +hands." + +After the older women left the room Victor drew near to Leo with a low +word. "Poor little mother! she is in the hands of the inquisition +to-night." + +Thrilling to the excitement of the hour, she forgot her resentful +superior pose. "Isn't that little man magnificent? Why didn't you go in +for civil engineering or chemistry?" + +"Because no one had sense enough to advise me," he bitterly answered. + +"Think where that funny little body has carried that head," she +continued, still studying Stinchfield. "If he had only been given +shoulders like yours--" + +"I'm glad you like something about me." + +"I was speaking of your body as a machine for carrying a brain around +over the earth." + +"You seem to think of me as having no brain." + +"Oh, not quite so bad as that. You have a brain, but it's undeveloped." + +"I'm growing up rapidly these days. Seems like I'd lived a year since +our walk last night." + +She colored a little. "Forget that and I'll forgive you." + +"I can't forget that." + +"Have you any idea what the tests are to be?" she asked, in an effort to +change the subject. + +"No, I'm outside of it all. I hope they won't scare my poor little +mother out of her senses. Ought I to step in and stop it?" + +"No, not unless The Voices say so. They welcome investigation--so +they've always said. What I should insist on, if I were you, is plenty +of time and a series of sittings." + +She was speaking now in gracious mood, and he, eager to win from her a +fuller expression of forgiveness, spoke again, bravely. "I hope you are +not going to be angry with me?" + +"Not at all," she replied, with disheartening, impersonal cordiality. "I +was partly to blame. I forgot you were a hot-headed boy." + +"Don't take that tone with me--I won't stand it!" + +"How can you help it?" she answered, with a smile, and moved toward the +end of the table where Bartol and Stinchfield still sat smoking and +leisurely sipping their coffee. + +The little engineer sprang up as she drew near, and stood like a soldier +at attention as she said, "Are you in merciless mood to-night, Mr. +Stinchfield?" + +"Far from it," he responded. "I'm in a receptive mood. The fact that Mr. +Bartol has found enough in this subject to wish to investigate +predisposes me to open-mindedness." + +"Suppose we go into the library," suggested Bartol, and they all +followed him across the hall. + +Leo walked with the engineer, leaving Victor in the rear, hurt and +suffering sorely. + +It was not so much her displayed interest in Stinchfield as her haughty +disregard of himself that touched his self-esteem. Thereafter he sulked +like the boy she declared him to be. + +When his mother came in robed in black and looking the sad young widow +he was on the verge of rebellion against the whole plan of action, but +he kept silence while Bartol explained his design. + +"It is customary for 'mediums' to have things their own way, but in this +case Mrs. Ollnee has placed herself entirely in my hands. The tests will +be made in my study." He turned the key and unlocked the door. "Mr. +Stinchfield will enter first and see that the room is as we left it." + +The engineer entered, and after a moment's survey called: "All is +untouched. Come in." + +Bartol led the way with Mrs. Ollnee, and when Victor, the last to enter, +had paced slowly over the threshold Stinchfield locked the door and +handed the key to his host. The inquisition was begun. + +The most notable furnishing of the room was a battery of three cameras, +so arranged that they could be operated instantaneously, and Mrs. Joyce +asked, anxiously, "Has the band consented to this?" + +"They have consented to a trial," answered Mrs. Ollnee, in a faint +voice. She had grown very pale, and her hands were trembling. To Victor +this seemed like the tremor of terror, and his heart was aching with +pity. + +On one side of the room a deep alcove lined with books had been turned +into a dark-room by means of curtains, and before these draperies stood +the inevitable wooden table, but beside it, inclosing a chair, was a +conical cage of wire netting encircled by bands of copper. + +Mrs. Joyce exclaimed, "You do not intend to cage her in that?" + +"That is my intention," calmly replied Bartol. + +"Have the controls consented?" asked Mrs. Joyce. + +"Yes," answered Mrs. Ollnee. + +Of the further intricacies of Stinchfield's preparation Victor had no +hint, so artfully were they concealed; but he recognized in it all a +kind of humorous skepticism (which the engineer radiated in spite of his +manifest wish to appear respectful); and as his mother entered her +little torture tent Victor said, "You needn't do this if you don't want +to, mother." + +"Your father commands it," she replied, submissively. + +Stinchfield screwed the cage to the floor and made an attachment to a +small wire which ran along the book-case to a dark corner. Victor was +enough of the physicist to infer that his mother was now surrounded by +an electric current. + +Bartol explained: "We are to start in total darkness, and then we intend +to try various degrees and colors of lights. Mrs. Ollnee, how will you +have us sit?" + +"I want Victor opposite me, with Leo at his right and Louise at his +left. Mr. Stinchfield will then be able to operate his wires. You, Mr. +Bartol, sit at Leo's right and nearest the cage." Her voice was now +quite firm, and her manner decided. "All sit at the table for a time." + +Stinchfield snapped out the lights, one by one, till only two, one red, +the other green, struggled against the darkness. When these went out the +room was perfectly black. + +Bartol then said: "In the cabinet behind the medium is a +self-registering column of mercury, a typewriter, and a switch, which +will light a lamp which hangs in the ceiling above the cabinet, and +which has no other connection. The psychic is inclosed in a mesh of +steel wire too fine to permit the putting forth of a finger. If the lamp +is lighted, the column of mercury lifted, or the typewriter keys +depressed, it will be by some supra-normal power of the medium. There +is also on a table just inside the curtains, with paper and pencils, a +small tin trumpet, a bell, and a zither upon it. If possible, we wish to +obtain a written message independent of Mrs. Ollnee." + +"It is the unexpected that happens," remarked Mrs. Joyce. "Shall we +clasp hands, Lucy?" + +"Yes," answered Mrs. Ollnee. + +Victor, reaching for Leo's hand, tingled with something not scientific, +a current of something subtler than electricity which came from her +palm. He thought he detected in her fingers a returning warmth of grasp. + +"They are here," announced Mrs. Joyce, after some ten minutes of +silence. + +"Who are here?" asked Bartol. + +"My band--and many others." + +"How can you tell?" + +"I hear them." A faint whisper soon distinguished itself, and Mrs. Joyce +reported that Mr. Blodgett was speaking. "He says he realizes the +importance of this test, and that he has summoned all the most powerful +of the spirits within reach, and that they will do all they can. He says +the wire cage is a new condition, but they will meet it. Be patient; the +strain on Lucy is very great, but it cannot be avoided." + +In the silence which followed this conversation Leo shuddered and +clutched Victor's hand as if for protection. "The other world is +opening. Don't you feel it?" She whispered. "I can hear the rustle of +wings." + +He, growing very tense himself, answered: "I feel only my mother's +anxiety. Are you comfortable, mother?" he asked. + +She did not reply, and Mrs. Joyce said, "She is asleep." And all became +silent again. + +"Hello!" exclaimed Stinchfield. "Who touched me?" + +"No one in the circle," answered Mrs. Joyce, highly elated. + +"I certainly felt a hand on my shoulder--there it comes again! Shall I +flash my camera?" + +"_Not now!_" came a clear, full whisper, apparently from the cabinet. +"_You would fail now. Wait._" + +"Who spoke?" asked Bartol. + +As there was no reply, Mrs. Joyce asked, "Is it you, Mr. Blodgett?" + +"_No!_" the whisper replied. + +"Is it Watts?" + +"_Yes._" + +"It is Isaac Watts. Now it is his science against yours, Mr. +Stinchfield." + +Bartol fell into the mode at once. "We are glad to be so honored. Now +Watts, I want--and I must have--incontestable proof of the psychic's +abnormal power--nothing else can save her from State prison. Do you +realize that?" + +"_We do._" + +"Very well, proceed." + +"_What would you call incontestable proof?_" + +"I should say a registered pressure on the key or the lighting of the +lamp above the cabinet--" + +A vivid red flash lit up the room. Stinchfield shouted, "The lamp--the +lamp was lit!" + +His excitement, to all but Bartol, was ludicrously high, and Mrs. Joyce +openly chuckled. "What else do you want done, Mr. Science?" + +"Writing independent of Mrs. Ollnee," replied Bartol. + +After a long and painful silence the bell tinkled faintly, and as all +listened breathlessly the zither began to play. + +"Now who is doing that?" asked the engineer. + +"_Turn on the green light!_" suggested the Voice. + +Stinchfield lit the green lamp, and by its glow the psychic was seen in +her cage reclining limply, her face ghostly white in the light. Bartol +looked about the circle. Every hand was in view, and yet the zither +continued to play its weird and wistful little tune. Leo and Mrs. Joyce +took this as a matter of course, but the men sat in rigid amazement. + +"_Lights out!_" whispered the Voice. + +Stinchfield put out his lamp. "That is astounding," he said. "I cannot +analyze that." + +"_Will you swear the psychic did not do it?_" asked the Voice. + +The engineer hesitated. "Yes," he finally said. + +"_Is this sufficient?_" asked the unseen. + +Bartol replied. "Sufficient for my argument; but I do not understand +these physical effects, and the jury may demand other proof. It will be +necessary for us to show that the messages which misled, as well as +those which comforted, came from some power outside the psychic and +beyond her control. I believe that, as in the case of Anna +Rothe--condemned by a German court to a long term of imprisonment--the +charge of imposture and swindling made against Mrs. Ollnee must lie, +unless I can demonstrate that these messages come from her subconscious +self in some occult way, or from personalities other than herself. In +fact, the whole case against Mrs. Ollnee lies in the question--does she +believe in The Voices as entities existing and acting outside herself--" + +He interrupted himself to say: "Something is tapping my hand. It feels +like the small tin horn." + +"_It is!_" came the answer in such volume that it could be heard all +over the room. + +"_Does this not prove the medium innocent of ventriloquism?_" + +"Stinchfield--what about this?" asked Bartol. + +The engineer could only repeat: "I don't understand it. It is out of my +range." + +Again the red lamp above the cabinet flashed, and by its momentary glow +the horn was seen floating high over the cage, in which the medium sat +motionless and ghastly white. + +"Shall I flashlight that?" asked Stinchfield again. + +"_No_," answered the Voice. "_The flashlight is very dangerous. We must +use it only for the supreme thing. Be patient!_" + +There was no longer any spirit of jocularity in the room. Each one +acknowledged the presence of something profoundly mysterious, something +capable of transforming physical science from top to bottom, something +so far-reaching in its effect on law and morals as to benumb the +faculties of those who perceived it. It was in no sense a religious awe +with Bartol; it was the humbleness which comes to the greatest minds as +they confront the unknowable deeps of matter and of space. + +The boy and girl forgot their names, their sex. They touched hands as +two infinitely small insects might do in the impenetrable night of their +world (their hates as unimportant as their loves). Only the bereaved +wife and mother leaned forward with the believer's full faith in the +heaven from which the beloved forms of her dead were about to issue. + +Suddenly the curtains of the alcove opened, disclosing a narrow strip of +some glowing white substance. It was not metal, and it was not drapery. +It was something not classified in science, and Stinchfield stared at it +with analytic eyes, talking under breath to Bartol. "It is not +phosphorus, but like it. I wonder if it emits heat?" + +Mrs. Joyce explained: "It is the half-opened door into the celestial +plane. I saw a face looking out." + +This light vanished as silently as it came, and the zither began to play +again, and a multitude of fairy voices--like a splendid chorus heard far +down a shining hall--sang exquisitely but sadly an unknown anthem. While +still the men of law and science listened in stupefaction the voices +died out, and the zither, still playing, rose in the air, and at the +instant when it was sounding nearest the ceiling the red lamp above the +cabinet was again lighted, and the instrument, played by two faintly +perceived hands, continued floating in the air. + +Silent, open-mouthed, staring, Stinchfield heard the zither descend to +the table before him. Then he awoke. "I must photograph _that_!" + +"_Not yet_," insisted the Voice. "_Wait for a more important sign._" + +In Victor's mind a complete revulsion to faith had come. His heart went +out in a rush of remorseful tenderness and awe. The last lingering doubt +of his mother disappeared. Like a flash of lightning memory swept back +over his past. All he had seen and heard of the "ghost-room" stood +revealed in a pure white light. "_It was all true--all of it. She has +never deceived me or any one else; she is wonderful and pure as an +angel!_" Incredible as were the effects he had seen, and which he had +rejected as unconscious trickery, not one of them was more destructive +of the teaching of his books than this vision of the zither played high +in the air by sad, sweet hands. He longed to clasp his mother to his +bosom to ask her forgiveness, but his throat choked with an emotion he +could not utter. + +Bartol, with tense voice, said to Stinchfield: "We have succeeded in +paralleling Crookes' experiment. With this alone I can save her." + +The flash of radiance from the cabinet interrupted him, and a new +voice--an imperative voice--called: + +"_Green light!_" + +Stinchfield turned his switch, and there in the glow of the lamp stood a +tall female figure with pale, sweet, oval face and dark, mysterious +eyes. + +"It is Altair!" exclaimed Leo. + +Victor shivered with awe and exalted admiration, for the eyes seemed to +look straight at him. The room was filled with that familiar +unaccountable odor, and a cold wind blew as before from the celestial +visitant, with suggestions of limitless space and cold, white light. + +"_Be faithful_," the sweet Voice said. "_Do not grieve. Do your work. +Good-by._" + +The vision lasted but an instant, but in that moment Stinchfield and +Bartol both perceived the psychic in her electric prison, lying like a +corpse with lolling head and ghostly, sunken cheeks. She seemed to have +lost half her bulk; like a partly filled garment she draped her chair. + +The engineer spoke in a voice soft, pleading, husky with excitement. +"May I flashlight now?" + +"_Not that--but this!_" uttered a man's voice, and forth from the +cabinet a faintly luminous mist appeared. + +"_Red lamp!_" + +In the glow of the sixteen-candle-power light the face of a bearded man +was plainly seen. It wore a look of grave expectancy. + +"Shall I fire?" asked Stinchfield. + +"_It may destroy our instrument_," answered the figure. "_But proceed._" + +The blinding flash which followed was accompanied by a cry, followed by +a moan, and Lucy Ollnee was heard to topple from her chair to the floor. +In the moment of horrified silence which followed the Voice commanded: + +"_Be silent! Do not stir! Turn off your current._" + +In his excitement Stinchfield turned off both light and current, and +left the whole room in darkness. Victor was on his feet crying out: "She +has fallen! She is dying!" + +"_Stay where you are, my son. Keep the room dark. We will take care of +your mother._" + +So absolute was his faith at the moment, Victor resumed his seat, though +he was trembling with fear. Leo reached for his hand. "Don't be +frightened. They will care for her." + +"We have witnessed the miraculous," declared Bartol, stricken into +irresolution by what had taken place. + +Mrs. Joyce, accustomed to these marvels, added her word of warning. +"Don't go to her yet. Spirits are all about her. It has been a terrible +shock, but they will heal her." + +Stunned silent, baffled by what he had seen, the scientist sat with his +hand on the switches controlling the lights ready to carry out the +orders of his invisible colleague. + +"_Red light!_" commanded the Voice. "_Approach--quietly. Victor, take +charge of your mother's body. She will not re-enter it. Her spirit is +with us._" + +Victor went forward and knelt in agony while the engineer lifted the +cage and delivered the unconscious psychic into his hands. + + * * * * * + +Lucy Ollnee breathed no more. She had died as she had lived, a martyr to +the unseen world. + +But her death was triumphant, for on the sensitive plate of each camera +science and law were able to read the proof of her power. In the dark +face of his grandsire Victor read a stern contempt as though he said: + +"Deny and still deny. In the end you _must_ believe." + +In the alcove on the pad these words were written in his mother's hand: +"_Do not grieve. My work is done. I do not go far. I shall be near to +cheer and guide you. Your future is secure. Work hard, be patient, and +all will be well. Farewell, but not good-by._" + +Below, written in the quaint script which Victor recognized, were these +words: "_Men of science and of law, blazon forth the marvels you have +seen and tested. Make the world ring with them; in such wise will you +advance veneration for God and remove the fear of death._ + + "_WATTS._" + + + + +XV + +THE RING + + +Bartol obeyed the command of the invisible powers. He gladly blazoned +the triumphant death of the psychic to the world. Lucy Ollnee became at +once a glorious martyr for her faith, a victim of science. Liberal +journals and religious journals alike lamented that it was necessary for +the sake of proof as regards immortality "that an innocent woman should +be caged and tortured to death with electric batteries," and even the +_Star_, leader in the war against the mediums, permitted itself an +editorial word of regret, and published in full Bartol's letter, and +also a long interview with Stinchfield, wherein he admitted the +genuineness of the dead woman's claims to supra-normal power. + +But all this was, at the moment, of small comfort to Victor. For a long +time he refused to believe in the reality of his mother's death, +insisting that she was in deep trance (as she had been before); but at +last, when the body was to be removed to Mrs. Joyce's home and Doctor +Steele and Doctor Eberly had both examined it and found no signs of +life, he gave up all hope of her return. + +Accompanied by Mrs. Joyce, he visited the California Avenue flat for the +last time to pack up the few things of value which his mother had been +permitted to acquire. His attitude toward the chairs, the slates, the +old table, had utterly changed. They were now instinct with his mother's +power, permeated with some part of her subtler material self, and he was +minded to preserve them. They were no longer the tools of a conjuror; +they were the sacred relics of a priestess. + +Mrs. Joyce asked permission to house them for him till he had secured a +home of his own, and to this he consented, for with his present feeling +concerning them he was troubled by the thought of their being stored in +dark vaults among masses of commonplace furniture. + +"I shall keep the table in my own room," said Mrs. Joyce. "It may be +that Lucy will be able to manifest herself to me through it. I have been +promised such power." + +To this Victor made no reply, for while he now believed absolutely in +all that his mother claimed to do, he had not been brought to a belief +in the return of the dead, and it was this fundamental doubt which made +his grief so bitter. "If only she could know that I believe in her," he +said to Leo, on the morning of the day when his mother's body was to be +taken away. "Think of it! She died a thousand times for the curious and +the selfish, only to be called an impostor and a cheat--and I, her only +son, was afraid the charge was true. If only I could have told her that +I believed in her!" + +"She knows," the girl gently assured him. They were seated at the moment +in the library and the morning was very warm and silent. The birds +seemed to be resting in preparation for their evensong. "Your mother is +near us--she may be listening to us this minute." + +"I can't believe that," he declared, sadly. "I'm not sure that I want to +believe it. I can't endure the thought of my mother's destruction, and +yet the notion of her floating about somewhere like a wreath of mist is +sorrowful to me." + +Leo confessed to somewhat the same feeling. "Heaven--any kind of +heaven--has always been incomprehensible to me, and yet we must believe +there is some sort of system of rewards and punishments. Anyhow, your +mother's death was glorious. She died as she would have wished to +die--in proving her faith." + +"She gave too much," he protested. "All her life she was set apart to do +a martyr's work. I understand now why my father couldn't stand it. I +know how he must have resented these Voices, and I cannot blame him for +going away. Would you marry a man like Stainton Moses or David Home?" + +She recoiled a little before the thought. "Of course not--but--" + +"What?" + +"Your mother was charming. If your father really loved her--" + +"He did! I'm sure of that, at first, but these 'ghosts' destroyed his +home. My mother confessed to me that they tormented my father for his +unbelief, and he had to go." + +"They are together now, and he believes." + +Victor fixed a penetrating look upon her. "Do you really believe that +the dead speak to us?" + +"I see no reason why they shouldn't--if they want to. How else can you +explain these Voices?" + +He shook his head. "I'm afraid these modern Italian scientists are +right. The Voices were only 'parasitic personalities,' nothing else. But +let's not talk of them. I'm tired of the 'ghost-room'--all my life I've +had it--and now I'm going to forget it if I can." + +"Hush! Your mother may hear you and grieve." + +"If she can hear me she will understand my feeling. I like the world as +it is--I don't want the supernatural thrust into it." + +"I think you're wrong," she said, firmly. "The larger view is that of +the scientist who recognizes nothing supernatural in the universe. I +would not part with what your mother gave me for huge sums. I've had +wonderful, thrilling experiences. Remember Altair!" + +Altair! Yes, he remembered her, and remembering her he recalled the +graceful figure at his bedside and the touch of the faintly clinging +lips. That mystery remained the most inexplicable of them all. + +While thus he sat, dream-filled and rapt, the girl studied him, and her +face changed. "You believe in Altair. What's more, you love her, and I +can't blame you for it. She is more beautiful than angels. You will not +forsake the 'ghost-room' so long as you have a hope that she may +return." + +"You are mistaken," he protested. "Altair is only a dream. I worship her +as a figure in a vision. Do you know what I think she was?" Her look +questioned, and he went on. "For days I have pondered on her face and +figure, in the light of modern science, and I am convinced that she was +nothing but a union of my mother's astral self and you." + +She looked at him in startled thought. "What do you mean?" + +He explained eagerly. "You must have noticed how much like my mother she +was? Her brow was the same--her eyes the same--" + +"Yes, they were a little like hers." + +"But her mouth and chin were exactly like yours. Her hands were like +yours. She held her head exactly as you do--and then she changed; +sometimes my mother predominated in her, sometimes you were the +stronger." + +The girl was deeply affected by the significance of this analysis. "You +imagined all that." + +He pushed on. "I did not, and, furthermore, Altair never came till you +sat with my mother. She never attained such power--so your aunt +agrees--till I came into the circle. She represented my conception of my +mother and you. I loved my mother, and I admired you--and out of my love +and admiration Altair was created." + +"That is absurd! If ever a spirit came from heaven, Altair was that one. +Why, she was palpable! I've touched her hands." + +He said, slowly: "She was beautiful, I confess, so beautiful that on +that first night she made even you seem coarse and material." + +"I felt your disdain," she thrust in, with sudden hurt. + +"But that was only for the moment. I could see nothing but her face--so +sad, so wistful. But let me ask you something. Did you, the night after +our walk on the drive in the moonlight--did you dream of me?" + +Her lip curled in a wondering smile. "What a question to ask of me!" + +"But did you? Come now, be honest. I have a reason for asking--did you?" + +"What is your reason for asking?" + +"That night Altair came to my bedside." + +Her eyes flashed and she rose to her feet. "You have an Oriental +imagination." + +"Don't go--hear me out. It was a beautiful experience." + +"Apparently it was. To me your story is insulting." + +He lost patience a little, and said bluntly: "You act as if I charged +_you_ with something. I say, 'Altair' came, and to me her visit was very +_significant_ and beautiful, because she testified to me that both you +and my mother were thinking of me. It was, in fact, your united astral +selves that paid that visit. Altair was your materialized friendship and +my mother's love." + +"What a fantastic notion!" she said; but she lingered, held by something +new and masterful in his voice. + +She added, with some humor: "Be kind enough to imagine that your +mother's 'astral self' preponderated in that vision." + +"I do, for when Altair stooped to kiss me--" + +"Stop!" she cried out, sharply; "you go too far!" + +"Leo!" he called, and his voice checked her as quickly as if he had +caught her by the arm. "I am not joking; I am very serious. You must +remember that I have lost both my mother and Altair--you alone remain--I +can't afford to lose you. You are all I have now. Don't be angry with +me." + +She considered him with a return to pity. "Forgive me," she hurriedly +retracted. "I am very sorry for you, and I don't want to seem +unfriendly; but it is only a week since we met. What can you know of me +in so short a time?" + +"I loved you the moment you came into my mother's room." + +"Nonsense. You hated me." + +"I did not like the way you treated me; but I never hated you. I was +afraid of you." + +"If your mother can hear you say that, she is certainly smiling, for she +knows you are not afraid of anybody. You're a very stiff-necked person." + +"I know you have a right to laugh at me; but I believe our 'guides' have +brought us together. I need you--now--and if I dared I'd ask you to wear +this." He disclosed a ring in his hand. + +She looked at it narrowly. "I know that ring; it was your mother's. She +kept it in a little velvet box together with an old-fashioned locket." + +"Yes, it is hers. It isn't very grand, compared with your own, but I +wish you'd put it on and consider it my promissory note." + +"_Your_ promissory note!" + +"Yes, I promise to buy it back with all the money you have lost through +my mother's advice. Will you wear it for me?" + +"Where do you expect to find so much money?" + +"Right here, in this great city. Mr. Bartol is to take me into his +office. He's like a father to me already; but I don't expect him to give +me anything. I'm going to work, and I'm going to pay you back the money +you have lost." + +Extending her little finger, she took the ring daintily on its tip. "All +that sounds very romantic; and yet young men do win wealth and fame +right here--and why not you?" + +"That's just it. I may be the future monopolizer of air-ships--" The +maid, appearing at the moment, announced that a lady wished to see Mr. +Ollnee. + +"Did she give her name?" + +"No, sir; but she said she was a relative, sir." + +"Tell her I will see her in a moment." + +As the maid left Leo rose. + +"Don't go!" pleaded Victor. "My visitor can wait. You haven't said +whether you will wear my ring or not. I don't know how long it may be +before I can 'make good,' but it will help mightily to know that you are +expecting me to do so." + +She pondered, but her face was kindly and her voice very gentle as she +said: "I don't want to seem unkind now in your hour of grief, but I +can't wear the ring." His eyes filled with tears, and she added: "I'll +keep it for you. The real question between us will have to be decided +some time in the future--when we know each other better. You need not +think of paying me. Go and see your relation. It may be a rich aunt +come to adopt you." + +"Couldn't you _learn_ to love me?" he asked, poignantly. + +"I might." She smiled. "I like you already." And she went away, leaving +him with stronger will to dare and do. + + + + +XVI + +CONCLUSION + + +As Victor entered the library he was met by a very pale, wide-eyed young +woman in a picturesque black hat. Her voice was deep and full of +dramatic fervor as she said: + +"You are Victor Ollnee?" + +"I am." + +Her eyes, large and very dark, almost black, gazed at him appealingly, +as she said: "Pardon me for a little deception. I am your relation only +in a spiritual sense--I share your sorrow, and in other ways I am +related to you. I was eager to see you, and I did not send in my name +for the reason that it would have repelled you, and you might have +refused to meet me." + +Victor thought her a very singular and very theatric young person. +Certainly she was under some strong stress of emotion which caused her +lips to quiver and her voice to vibrate tensely. He knew her now. She +was the girl he had confronted in the court-room, and he stared at her, +uncertain of his footing. She seemed like some of the figures he had +seen on the stage, vivid, swift of change, unreal, but her voice was +vibrantly charming. He was sure she was the girl he had met on the +street, and she had stood beside the man Aiken during their brief +appearance in the court-room. + +She approached a step or two, as if throwing herself on his mercy. "My +name is Florence Aiken. I am a newspaper writer. I am the one who +brought all this trouble to you. It was I who wrote that first article +in the _Star_ denouncing your mother." + +He recoiled before her quite as dramatically as she could have wished. +"You wrote that!" he exclaimed. "I thought a man did that job." + +She could not help a slight expression of pride in her work. "It was +mine, every word of it. I was terribly vindictive, I admit; but you must +know I had some provocation. Let me tell you? Will you listen to me? +Please do! I'm not so heartless as I seemed in that article, and I +cannot rest till I have made my peace with you." + +Her voice, her pale face, her intense eyes, and her tense contralto +voice softened his resentment. + +"I'll listen, but you can't expect me to forgive a thing like that." + +"May I sit?" + +"Certainly," he answered, but remained standing, as if to retain his +guard. + +"Don't condemn me altogether," she pleaded. "Wait till you know how much +reason I had to hate the whole brood of clairvoyants, seers, and +psychics. My dear old grandmother was an easy mark for the cheapest of +them, and I, who paid for her nurse out of my own thin little purse, and +waited upon her night and day, had a right to consider her small fortune +my own. It wasn't much, but it was enough to pay the cost of a flat, and +to see it all going to fakers and greasy palmists--well, it was too +much. It made a crusader of me--and it would have made one of you. It +was not a question of your mother--alone. I went to our managing editor +at last, and told him my story. I made it clear to him that the city was +full of these harpies who prey on poor old women like my grandmother. +'They ought to be driven out of town,' I said. 'Cut loose,' he said; and +I did. My article on your mother was honest. I believed her to be simply +another one of the same sort of impostors. I took her just like three or +four others whose methods I knew, and I got my cousin, Frank Aiken, to +bring suit against her. I thought she was a crook. I feel differently +to-day. Since talking with Judge Bartol and Mr. Stinchfield (I handled +both those assignments) I've changed my estimate of her. I have written +a page article vindicating her. I've come to tell you that her death in +that cage has changed the situation for me. I am convinced that she was +sincere, and I want to humble myself before you, her son, and ask your +forgiveness. I know you feel more like killing me, but here I am--I +couldn't rest without letting you know that I need your pardon." + +Her plea, swift, voiced in music, and illustrated by her pale face, +glowing eyes, and sensitive lips, powerfully affected him. He towered +over her in savage silence for a little while, then with effort he said: +"I don't see how I can do anything to you, for I felt the same way--I +mean I didn't believe in my mother's business." + +She became radiant. "Didn't you?" + +"No. Up to the very moment when that red lamp was lit I could not +believe in her. I couldn't help doubting--even now I need the +photographs to bolster up my belief." + +The reportorial instinct awoke in her. "I wish I might see those +photographs--to reassure myself, not for publication. May I see them?" + +He did not observe that her desire for his pardon seemed suddenly to be +met, even though he had not yet put it in words, and his mind was wholly +on the question of the photographic tests as he slowly replied: + +"They are very marvelous--especially those which came on the unexposed +plates." + +Her eyes widened in wonder. "What do you mean?" + +"Mr. Stinchfield had several packages of plates opened ready to use in +his cameras, but The Voices only let him make one flashlight. It seems +as if they knew the experiment would end my mother's life, and yet on +each of the unexposed plates are faces and forms, some of which Mr. +Bartol 'recognized.'" + +"Let me see them--please!" she pleaded, earnestly. "They will comfort +me, too, for I am under conviction." + +He took from his pocket a package of small photographs. "Here," he said, +"are the three flashlights of my grandfather, Nelson Blodgett." + +The young woman almost snatched them in her eager haste. "Oh, wonderful! +What a document! The medium plainly in her cage--and this figure on the +same plate." + +"It is the most convincing picture in existence," he said, sadly, "but +it cost me my mother." + +She fixed a dreamy gaze upon him. "If this is a spirit--then your mother +can return to you. Has she done so?" + +He moved uneasily. "I have not asked her to do that. I don't care to be +controlled or guided by spirits, not even by her spirit." + +"Why?" + +His voice was firm and assured as he replied: "Because I want to live +and work out my career like other men. I don't want to see or hear any +more of the 'astral plane'--" He checked himself. "It isn't natural for +a man like me to be mixed up with all this spirit business, and I'm +tired of it." + +"I see what you mean. You want to work and woo and marry like other men. +You're right; of course you're right. What have we who are young and +vigorous to do with the dead, anyway? Unless all human life is a +mistake, a foolish thing, it's our business to live it humanly." She +held out her hand for the other pictures. "Let me see them all, please!" + +He handed them to her. "There were three cameras," he explained, "hence +these duplicates. These faces are likenesses of Mr. Bartol's wife and +two children--and these plates, remember, were not exposed--they are of +Altair, one of the guides." + +She studied the shadowy forms with keen gaze. "One of the strange things +about this 'spirit photograph' business is the resemblance they all bear +to pictures--I mean, they all look as if they were photographs of framed +portraits or drawings." + +Again he betrayed restlessness. "Mr. Stinchfield noticed that." + +"What is his explanation?" + +"He does not think they come from spirits at all." + +She urged him to unbosom himself. "You have a conviction? What is it?" + +"His theory is that they are only mental images transferred by some +unknown mental power to the plates." + +"What about the figure of your grandsire?" + +"His theory is that the figure was really the etheric self of my +mother--shaped to the form like my grandsire by her own mind." + +She stared at him. "And you accept that?" + +"I don't know what else to believe. Yes, I accept that. I don't believe +the dead have any right to talk and fool with the lives of the living +the way I've been fooled with and side-tracked." His voice was full of +fervor now. "I'm going to live my own life hereafter irrespective of the +dead--responsible only to the living. I will not be disciplined by +ghosts." + +The girl laid the photographs down softly and looked at him with frank +admiration. "You're a very extraordinary young man," she said, sagely. + +"No, I'm not!" he protested. "I'm just a good average. A week ago my +hottest ambition was to carry the Winona ball team to victory. If I had +the money and the courage I'd go back there to-morrow and finish my +course." + +"What do you mean by courage?" + +"Well, you know what I'd be loaded up with. To go back there now would +be the devil and all. Your article broke my peaceful combination just a +week ago last Sunday." + +"But I have undone my work. I have vindicated your mother. You have a +right to be proud of her. She was as real a martyr as ever went to the +stake." + +"I know, but I'll be a marked figure, all the same." + +"You were a marked figure before. But consider all explanations have +been made--wait till you read my article. Go back!" she insisted. "I +wish you would." Her voice was rich with pleading. "It would make me +happy. I feel horribly guilty--really I do. I'm only a grubbing +reporter-person--I've had to earn my way and keep house for my +grandmother besides; but I'd gladly share my salary to help you return +to college. Please go back--it will relieve my mind of a big burden." + +He took her hand in the spirit in which it was offered. "I am within a +few days of graduation, but--" + +"Please go back--for the sake of a poor little newspaper wretch who +feels that she has indirectly spoiled your career." She pressed his hand +fervidly. "Promise me this and you'll take a monstrous load off my +shoulders." + +She had the face, the temperament of the actress, and loved to +experiment on the hearts of men; but she was deeply in earnest now. +Bartol and Stinchfield had really changed her point of view as regards +Mrs. Ollnee, and this "situation" appealed to her at the moment with +irresistible power. Life was to her a drama, intense, never-ending, +romantic, and at the moment she loved this splendid young man orphaned +by her hand. + +He could not resist her caressing voice, her appealing eyes, her +sensitive lips, and he said, "I promise." + +"Thank you," she said, and, dropping his hand, she lifted burning yet +tearful eyes to his face. "You are very generous." + +He went on, "I am sure you meant well." + +"I don't want to rest under false imputations," she repeated. "I did not +mean well. That first article was savage. I was angry. I struck blindly, +but I struck to hurt." + +"Well, all that is ended," he replied, sadly. "My mother is to be buried +to-day." + +She looked at him in silence for a moment. "I have one more request to +make," she said, at last, and her voice was very soft and hesitating. +"I'd like to look upon her face. I want to ask her forgiveness." + +His heart melted at this plea, and he turned away to hide his tears. +When he could speak he said: "She is very beautiful. I cannot believe +even now that she is dead; but I have given my consent to have her taken +to the cemetery. I will show her to you." + +In silence she followed him up the stairway and into the cool, dark room +where the coffin lay. + +The windows were open at the bottom, and though the shades were drawn, +the chamber was filled with soft light. The cries of the barn-yard and +the twitter of birds outside seemed strangely softened as the two young +people so singularly brought together approached the still form of the +seeress and looked into her face serene with the infinite repose of +death. + +Victor, with choking throat and burning eyes, stood at the bier unable +to utter a sound; but the girl, after a long glance, took a rose from +her bosom, and, with a sigh, gently laid it on the still, small, white +hands of the silent form. + +"Accept my homage," she intoned, softly, "and if you can still see and +hear, pardon me and forget my bitter words." + +She stood a moment thereafter as if involuntarily listening, waiting, +hoping--but the dead gave no sign. + + + + +THE END + + + + +Books by HAMLIN GARLAND + + CAVANAGH--FOREST RANGER + + THE CAPTAIN OF THE GRAY-HORSE TROOP. + + HESPER + + MONEY MAGIC. + + THE LIGHT OF THE STAR. + + THE TYRANNY OF THE DARK. + + THE SHADOW WORLD + + MAIN-TRAVELLED ROADS + + PRAIRIE FOLKS + + ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY + + THE MOCCASIN RANCH. + + TRAIL OF THE GOLD-SEEKERS + + THE LONG TRAIL. + + BOY LIFE ON THE PRAIRIE. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Victor Ollnee's Discipline, by Hamlin Garland + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTOR OLLNEE'S DISCIPLINE *** + +***** This file should be named 34250-8.txt or 34250-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/5/34250/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Victor Ollnee's Discipline + +Author: Hamlin Garland + +Release Date: November 8, 2010 [EBook #34250] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTOR OLLNEE'S DISCIPLINE *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + +<h1>VICTOR OLLNEE'S DISCIPLINE</h1> + +<h2>BY HAMLIN GARLAND</h2> + +<h3>AUTHOR OF "THE CAPTAIN OF THE GRAY-HOUSE TROOP" "MAIN-TRAVELLED ROADS" +ETC.</h3> + + +<h3>HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS<br /> +NEW YORK AND LONDON<br /> +MCMXI</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#I">I. <span class="smcap">Victor Reads the Fateful Star</span></a><br /> +<a href="#II">II. <span class="smcap">Victor Interrogates His Mother</span></a><br /> +<a href="#III">III. <span class="smcap">Victor Makes a Test</span></a><br /> +<a href="#IV">IV. <span class="smcap">Victor Throws Down the Altar</span></a><br /> +<a href="#V">V. <span class="smcap">Victor Receives a Warning</span></a><br /> +<a href="#VI">VI. <span class="smcap">Victor is Checked in His Flight</span></a><br /> +<a href="#VII">VII. <span class="smcap">The Return of the Spirit</span></a><br /> +<a href="#VIII">VIII. <span class="smcap">Victor Repairs His Mother's Altar</span></a><br /> +<a href="#IX">IX. <span class="smcap">The Law's Delay</span></a><br /> +<a href="#X">X. <span class="smcap">A Visit to Hazel Grove</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XI">XI. <span class="smcap">Love's Translation</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XII">XII. <span class="smcap">A Moonlight Call and a Vision</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XIII">XIII. <span class="smcap">Victor Tests His Theory</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XIV">XIV. <span class="smcap">The Ordeal</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XV">XV. <span class="smcap">The Ring</span></a><br /> +<a href="#XVI">XVI. <span class="smcap">Conclusion</span></a><br /><br /> +<a href="#Books_by_HAMLIN_GARLAND">Books by HAMLIN GARLAND</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VICTOR OLLNEE'S DISCIPLINE</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2> + +<h3>VICTOR READS THE FATEFUL STAR</h3> + + +<p>Saturday had been a strenuous day for the baseball team of Winona +University, and Victor Ollnee, its redoubtable catcher, slept late. +Breakfast at the Beta Kappa Fraternity House on Sunday started without +him, and Gilbert Frenson, who never played ball or tennis, and Arnold +Macey, who was too effeminate to swing a bat, divided the Sunday morning +<i>Star</i> between them.</p> + +<p>"See here, Gil," called Macey, holding up an illustrated page, "do you +suppose this woman is any relation to Vic?"</p> + +<p>Frenson took the paper and glanced at it casually. It contained a +full-page lurid article, printed in two colors, with the picture of a +tall, serpentine, heavy-eyed, yet beautiful woman, whose long arms +(ending in claws) reached for the heart of a sleeping man. "What is it +all about?" asked Frenson, as his eyes roamed over the text.</p> + +<p>"It seems to be an attack on a medium named Ollnee who pretends to be +able to bring the dead to life. According to this article, she's the +limit as a fraud. You don't suppose—Ollnee is an unusual name—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not so very. I suppose it's another way of spelling Olney. I don't +see any reason to connect old Vic with any such woman as that."</p> + +<p>"No, only he's always been kind of secretive about his folks. You'll +admit that. Why, we don't even know where he came from! Nobody does, +unless you do."</p> + +<p>Frensen dipped into the article. "Wow! this <i>is</i> a hot one! Lucile has a +case for libel all right—unless the reporter happens to be telling the +truth."</p> + +<p>"Hello, Vic!" he shouted, as a tall, broad-shouldered, but rather lean +young fellow entered the room. "Vic, you are discovered!"</p> + +<p>"What's the excitement?" asked the newcomer.</p> + +<p>"Here's an article in the Sunday paper you should see. It's all about a +woman namesake of yours, a medium named Lucile Ollnee. The name is +spelled exactly like yours. Say, old man, I didn't know you were the son +of an 'infamous faker.' Why didn't you let us know." His tone was +comic.</p> + +<p>Young Ollnee took the paper quietly, but, as he read, a look of +bewilderment came upon his face.</p> + +<p>"How about it, Vic?" repeated Macey. "You seem to be hard hit. Is she an +aunt or a sister?"</p> + +<p>Rising abruptly, Victor left the room, taking the paper with him.</p> + +<p>Macey uttered a word of astonishment, but Frensen, after a pause, said, +soberly, "There's something doing here, Sissy. He didn't act a bit +funny; but it's up to us to keep quiet till we know just where we stand. +If that woman <i>is</i> related to Vic he's going to be fighting mad. I guess +I'd better go up and see how he's taking it. He certainly did seem +jolted." He turned to utter a warning. "Don't say anything to the other +fellows till I come back."</p> + +<p>Macey promised, and Frenson went up the stairs and into the little study +which he and Victor shared in common. The windows were open and the +bird-songs and the fragrance of a glorious May morning flooded the room +with joy, but in the midst of its radiance young Ollnee sat, bent above +the fateful printed page.</p> + +<p>As Frenson entered he raised his head. "Have you read this thing, +Frens?" he asked, tremulously.</p> + +<p>"Part of it."</p> + +<p>"Frens, Lucy Ollnee is my mother. This article is full of lies, but it's +based on facts. I'd like to kill the man that wrote it," he added, +savagely.</p> + +<p>"Let me look at it again," said Frenson.</p> + +<p>Victor handed the paper to him and sat in silence while Frenson went +over the article with studious care. It was an exceedingly able and +bitter presentation of the opposition side. It left no excuse, no +palliation for a career such as that of Lucile Ollnee.</p> + +<p>"She is fraudulent from beginning to end," the writer passionately +declared. "From her heart outward she is as vile, as remorseless, as +mysterious as a vampire. No one knows from what foul nest she sprang. +She battens upon the sick, the world-weary, the sorrowing. Her +hokus-pokus is so simple that it would deceive no one but those who are +blinded by their own tears. She has just one human trait. She is said to +be educating a son at an Eastern university on the profits of her vile +trade. It is said that she is keeping him in ignorance of her way of +life."</p> + +<p>Frenson looked up at his friend. "Vic, what do you know of this +business?"</p> + +<p>"Almost nothing. I don't know very much of even my mother's relations. +The first that I can remember is our home in La Crescent. My father's +name was Paul Ollnee, but I can't remember him. He died before I was +three years old. We left La Crescent when I was about eight and went to +the city. I can't remember very much previous to that time, but after we +moved to the city I know my mother set up her 'ghost-room' again."</p> + +<p>"Ghost-room?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's what I called it. I can't remember when there was not a +'ghost-room' in our house. As far back as when I was five years old we +had it, and I was just getting old enough to wonder about it when we +moved to the city."</p> + +<p>"What kind of a den was this ghost-room?"</p> + +<p>"It looked like any other bright and pretty room, but I never got more +than a glimpse of it, for I was afraid of it. There was nice paper on +the wall, I remember, and a desk with books, and there were some tall +tin horns standing in the corner. Oh yes, and always an old walnut +table. There's something queer about that. I don't understand why my +mother should have taken that table down to the city with her, but she +did. It was just an old, battered-up walnut stand, and yet she seemed to +think the world of it. She put it in the center of her room in the city +just as she used to have it in our old home. Oh, how I hated that room! +There was something uncanny about it. There was always a string of +strange men and women going into it with my mother, and I was always +sent away to play when they came. Oh, Gil"—his voice broke—"she is a +medium, but she's not the awful creature they make her out."</p> + +<p>"Of course not. We all know how these things go."</p> + +<p>"You see, I went away to boarding-school when I was ten. This paper +says I was sent away to keep me clear of the business that went on at +home. I'm not sure but that is true, for I've seen very little of my +mother's home life since."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you visit her during vacations?"</p> + +<p>"No, she always came to see me, and we took trips here and there. We'd +go East, or to Colorado somewhere. Oh, we've had such splendid times +together, Gil. She brought me presents and sent me money—" He looked +out of the window for a few moments before he could go on. "And now—The +other fellows will see that article, of course."</p> + +<p>"Yes, the whole town will be reading it in an hour. However, they may +not connect you with it."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, they will, and they'll believe every word of it, and they'll +understand that I am Lucy Ollnee's son. This finishes me, Gil. Everybody +will think I <i>knew</i> how my mother earned her money, and they'll despise +me for taking it." He rose in an agony of shame. "I might as well be at +the bottom of the lake."</p> + +<p>"Don't take it so hard, old man. You're a big favorite here," said +Frenson, with intent to offer consolation. "The work you've done on the +team will go a long ways toward carrying you through this thing. Brace +up; all is not lost."</p> + +<p>The stricken youth was not listening. "Just think, Gil, she's been doing +all this for me! I knew she claimed to have messages, but I didn't know +that I was living on money earned in that way. You see, we own some +houses in La Crescent, and I just took it for granted that our living +came from them." He was white with pain now. "This ends my career here. +I've got to get out, and do it quick. I'll be the laughing stock of the +whole town by noon."</p> + +<p>Frenson, deeply sympathetic, did his best to minimize the effect of the +disclosure, but with Victor's corroboration of the reporter's charges, +he was forced to admit that Mrs. Ollnee was either an imposter or a +woman of unsound mind. Little by little he drew from the stricken youth +other interesting details.</p> + +<p>"I remember having a fight with a city boy by the name of Barker," said +Victor, "because he yelled at me 'sonova medium' till I stopped his +mouth with my fist. It seems to me as if it were the very next day that +my mother took me to Mirror Lake and put me in a boarding-school. That +fight must have influenced her. Perhaps up to that moment our neighbors +had let us alone. I can understand now why she always visited me and why +she never offered to take me to the city."</p> + +<p>He did not say that this very aloofness had made of her, to him, a +serene and lofty figure, but so it was. She had come to him out of the +unknown distance, a mysterious queen of the fairies, with something very +sad and very sweet in her face and something very appealing in her +voice. There was nothing commonplace, nothing associated with toil or +worry in his memory of her. Her broad, full brow, her deep-blue eyes, +and her frail little body put her apart from other women. As he dwelt +now on her dignity, her loving care, his heart grew strong with +resolution. "Gilbert," he called, suddenly, "I'm going down there and +defend her from those beasts."</p> + +<p>Frenson was not surprised. "I reckon that's your little stunt," he +retorted, student-fashion, but he was very much in earnest, +nevertheless. "I'm wondering what old Boyden will say."</p> + +<p>Victor believed in Professor Boyden and honored him, but at the moment +the thought of facing him was painful. Boyden was one of those who +tested the human soul with the electric bell, the clock, and the +spymograph. Delusions were among his hobbies. Hysteria was a great word +with him. Man lived among appearances. Personality was not a unit, but +an aggregate, liable to disassociation, and the hysterical girl was +capable of deceiving the very elect. To him, mediumship was merely the +sign of immorality or epilepsy.</p> + +<p>A part of this disrupting philosophy had entered Victor's head, and as +he slowly and minutely re-read that cruel newspaper analysis of his +sweet and gentle mother he was startled, but a little comforted by the +thought that she might be the victim of her subconscious self, "She +can't mean to cheat. Of that I am certain. But she needs me just the +same. I'm going to earn her living and mine in some honest way."</p> + +<p>Two or three of his most intimate friends came up after breakfast and +started in to chaff, but, being far past the stage of evasion, Victor +frankly confessed his relationship to the medium and hotly defended her, +ending by mournfully, declaring his intention of leaving school at once +and forever.</p> + +<p>Thereupon, his visitors also became very serious, perceiving the tumult +of doubt and despair into which he had been thrown, and one by one they +fell into awkward silence and slipped away, leaving him alone with +Frenson, who had been giving the most careful thought to the whole +situation.</p> + +<p>"Of course the fellow who wrote this article had his own private grouch. +Any one can see that. And your friends are not going to condemn your +mother on what he says. But all the same, you're wound up pretty tight, +Vic; there's no two ways about that. According to your own statement she +does claim to hear voices, and she does claim to give messages from the +dead. Now, I'm not saying all this is impossible, but you know as well +as I do that Boyden and his kind say 'Nitsky' to the whole business."</p> + +<p>"I don't care what she's done," retorted Victor; "she has stood by me +like a brick all these years, and now it's up to me to do something for +her when she's in trouble."</p> + +<p>Frenson admitted that this was a human and righteous resolution on the +part of his chum and offered to help in any possible way.</p> + +<p>Victor, too full of grief and despair to think clearly, went about his +packing with swollen throat. There was keen pain in the thought of +abandoning this bright room, of discarding all his trophies, books, and +pictures, but this he did, putting nothing into his trunk but his +clothing and a few photographs of his dearest girl friends. "What's the +use?" he said to Frenson. "It's me to the spade or the ice-tongs, now. I +won't need these things any more. It's battle in the arena of trade for +Vic from this time on."</p> + +<p>Frenson looked around at the little library. "Well, I'll hold them +together for a while. Maybe you'll be able to come back and graduate, +after all."</p> + +<p>"Never! Don't you see I can't take another cent of my mother's money now +that I know how it's earned?"</p> + +<p>Frenson listened unexcitedly. "Well, now, suppose these voices should +turn out to be real? Suppose these messages have been from the dead?"</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't make any difference."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, it would. At least it would to me. Scientific men have been +against a whole lot of things in the past that turned out to be true. +Natural selection, for instance, and X-rays and the wireless telephone."</p> + +<p>"I see your drift, Gil. You want to be a comfort to me, but I've been +digging down into my memory, and I know now that my mother has been +trained into these habits, these delusions, for over twenty years. It +won't be an easy thing to get her out of them. She is as much deceived +as the rest. I am sure of that."</p> + +<p>"Well, why don't you experiment with her? Make a test," suggested +Frenson.</p> + +<p>"Would you experiment with your own mother?" asked Victor.</p> + +<p>"I'd make a case out of my grandmother if as much hinged on her as +swings on this question of your mother's honesty. You can't blink these +charges, Vic, they'll have to be met if she remains in the city."</p> + +<p>Victor sat in silence for a few moments, then broke out again. "Gil, I +begin to understand a hundred things that have always seemed queer to +me. She has kept me away from her because she <i>knew</i> I would not +sanction her way of earning money. Why, I haven't slept in her house but +once since I was ten years old, and that was just before I entered here. +I hated where she lived; it was a ratty little hole down on the south +side, and the people with her were sloppy Sals. I refused to stay a +second night. I can see it all now. She was living there in that way to +save money for me, to keep me here. She wanted me to have just as good +a chance as any of the rest of you. This room, the clothes I have on, my +trinkets, everything came from her, and now there's no telling what may +happen to her. That article threatens all kinds of persecution. I ought +to be there this minute. I must take the very next train."</p> + +<p>"I guess you're right there, old man. It's likely to be a pretty +exciting day for her. This article is apt to bring all kinds of trouble +to her as well as to you."</p> + +<p>The news that Victor Ollnee was the son of a notorious medium ran +rapidly among his classmates, and while they honored him and prized his +skill on the team, they felt a certain resentment toward him. Some of +them thought he had not been quite honest with them, and a violent +controversy was thundering in the dining-room as Frenson re-entered it +at one o'clock. He took Victor's part, of course. "He can't help what +his mother's done," he argued. "He didn't choose his mother. Why slam +into Vic?"</p> + +<p>"We aren't slamming into him. We're sorry for him," responded one of the +fellows.</p> + +<p>"But we don't see how we can afford to have him in the frat," said +another. "He's a ripping good fellow and a wonder at the bat, but what +can we do? He should have told us about himself. The paper here says +that his mother makes a living by cheating people, by tapping spirit +wires and blowing horns and hearing voices in the dark: and all that +shady business is sure to reflect on us. He's a marked man which ever +way you look at it. You'll see everybody rubber-necking over our fence +to-day. They've begun it already."</p> + +<p>"That's so," agreed a third man. "Why didn't he tell us the truth before +we voted him in here?"</p> + +<p>Frenson explained. "He's been telling me all about it. He says he didn't +know his mother was earning her money that way."</p> + +<p>"That's the part that looks queer to us," accused the opposition. "How +could he help knowing it? Looks to us as if he'd been covering it up all +along. This writer says the woman is a regular 'battle-ax.'"</p> + +<p>The current was setting strongly against Victor, and Frenson, seeing +this, rose to go. "Well, there's no need of taking action. Poor Vic is +heart-broken over the whole business and is leaving on the three-o'clock +train."</p> + +<p>This silenced even his critics. They began to remember what a jolly good +fellow he was, and how important his work in "the diamond" had been. It +was all very sad business, and they relented. "We don't want to be hard +on him," they said.</p> + +<p>Frenson went up to Victor. "See here, Captain, you must be hungry. I'll +push a tray for you if you don't feel like going down among those +'Indians.' I'll have to be honest with you. They're all up in the air +down there and howling something fierce. I reckon I'd better hustle a +turkey-leg for you."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would, Gil. I can't bear to see any one but you. If I can, I +want to sneak out and get to the train without catching anybody's eye. +All I need now is to kill that reporter. He has smashed my world, sure +thing, and I may find my poor little mother crushed under it, too." He +tore the paper into little bits, snarling through his set teeth. "The +fellows may believe what they please. I've done with them all. They're +all against me but you, I can see that."</p> + +<p>Frenson got out his pipe and filled it while his partner raged up and +down the room. At last he said: "Now, Vickie, when you get calmed down +you just remember that you've a lot of mighty good friends up here. +There'll be dozens of them that this thing won't change a little bit. +They'll talk, but they'll be sympathetic."</p> + +<p>Victor's wrath burned itself out at last, and he consented to Frenson's +bringing the tray of food. But he declined to go down-stairs till the +time came to start for the train.</p> + +<p>As they were crossing the hall they met little Macey, who, with a +startled look in his eyes, intercepted Victor's passage. "I'm awfully +sorry, Vic," he began. "I wish I could do something for you."</p> + +<p>There was something so sincere and moving in his tone that Victor's +stern mood melted. His voice grew husky as he tried to jocularly reply. +"Never mind, Sissy, I'm down, but I'm not out. Good-by till next time."</p> + +<p>"That's the spirit," cheered Frenson from the doorway.</p> + +<p>Out on the walk a couple of the older fraternity men stood talking in +low voices (of Victor, of course), and as they fell apart one of them +had the grace to say: "Don't stay away too long, Vic. We'll need you +Saturday."</p> + +<p>Victor waved a hand. "I hope you'll be here when I return," he retorted; +but as he entered the hack (which Frenson had provided, as though he +were taking an invalid or a lady to the train) his composure utterly +gave way. "I could have stood it if the boys hadn't welched," he sobbed. +"But they did; you can't fool me. They threw me down hard."</p> + +<p>"Some of them did," admitted Frenson. "But they were the hollow ones. +The solid chaps are all right yet."</p> + +<p>"I can't blame them very much. If they believe all that stuff about my +mother and think that I knew it, why of course they're right in feeling +as they do."</p> + +<p>At the train the loyal Frenson said, "Well now, Vic, if you need help +any time you let me know and I'll come galloping."</p> + +<p>"That's real bold in you, Gil, and if I get where I can't see my way out +I'll shout."</p> + +<p>And so they parted—Victor with a feeling that their companionship was +ended forever, Gilbert with a sense of having failed of his intent to +comfort and sustain.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2> + +<h3>VICTOR INTERROGATES HIS MOTHER</h3> + + +<p>Once on the train, with the towers of the university building out of +sight, Victor's mind went forward toward the great city whereto he was +now hurrying in the spirit of one about to enter a tiger-haunted jungle. +Hitherto he had been unafraid of its tumult, for there his mother lived. +Her home, vague of outline as it was, offered refuge from the thunder +and the shouting. But now its shelter was worse than useless, for its +lintel was marked with a sign of shame and terror, and this the law and +the lawless knew equally well.</p> + +<p>"How will she seem to me now," he asked himself. "What will she say to +me when we meet?"</p> + +<p>On one point he was sternly resolved. "She must leave the city at once. +We will go West somewhere. I will earn our living now." And at the +moment earning a living seemed easy.</p> + +<p>The close of a beautiful spring day was spreading over the town as he +made his way up the stairway into the unwonted silence of the +thoroughfare. The wind was from the east, clean and cool and sweet. As +he looked down at the river from the bridge and marked its water flowing +swiftly from the lake toward the splendid sunset sky he exulted over the +power of man, of science, to reverse the natural current of a stream. +"So must I change the whole course of my mother's life," he thought with +returning resolution. "It must be done. It can be done. It's all in the +will."</p> + +<p>The hit-or-miss squalor of California Avenue filled him with renewed and +augmented disgust as he descended from the car at the corner and began +his search for his mother's apartment, which was the top story of a +shabby wooden building standing between two shops. The stairway reeked +with associations of poverty, a shifty poverty, and Victor's gorge rose +at it. The second flight, though cleaner, was musty with decaying wood, +and the doorway—on which a dim card was tacked—sadly needed paint. He +began to realize sharply the sacrifices which had enabled him to live in +the care-free comfort of his chapter-house, and his heart softened.</p> + +<p>After knocking twice without obtaining a response he tried the knob. It +yielded and he went in. All was silent and dim. For an instant he +hesitated. "Perhaps I'm in the wrong pew after all," he thought; but as +he looked about him he recognized the ghost-room furniture of his +boyhood. On the wall was a familiar picture—the crayon portrait of a +black-whiskered man. The same old battered walnut table which he +remembered so well occupied one corner, and behind it three long tin +cones stood upright on their larger ends. He shivered with disgust at +them and turned to the lounge, over which, scattered as if by a gale of +wind, lay the leaves of the hated Sunday edition of the <i>Star</i>. All else +was neat and tidy, though threadbare with use. It was, indeed, very far +from being "the gilded den of vice" which the reporter had depicted.</p> + +<p>Oppressed by the silence, Victor called out, "Mother, are you here?"</p> + +<p>He thought he heard a voice, a husky whisper, say, "<i>Go to her</i>"; and, a +little surprised by this, he stepped to the door of the bedroom and +peered in. There, sitting in an arm-chair, half hid in the gloaming, sat +his mother with closed eyes and a gray-white face.</p> + +<p>"Mother, are you sick?" he cried out, starting toward her.</p> + +<p>Again the whisper in the air close to his ear commanded him: "<i>Stay +where you are. Do not touch her.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Mother, don't you know me? It is Victor."</p> + +<p>The whisper answered: "<i>Your mother is resting. We are treating her. Be +patient; she will awaken soon.</i>"</p> + +<p>For a moment Victor's heart failed him, so impressive was this whisper, +issuing apparently from the empty air. Then a flood of rage swept over +him. This Voice was one of the tricks charged against her by the paper. +"Mother, stop that! I won't have it. Do you hear me? Stop it, I say!"</p> + +<p>The sleeper stirred and her eyes opened, but no sign of recognition was +in them. Slowly her stiffened hands withdrew from the arms of her chair +and clasped themselves in her lap. Her cheeks, puffed and pallid, were +rigid and her eyes, turned upward and inward, gleamed coldly. The lids +were half-closed. She had a horribly unfamiliar, tortured look, and he +started toward her, calling upon her in a voice of anxiety. "Mother, +what is the matter? Don't you hear me?"</p> + +<p>At last she opened her eyes and a thrill of relief ran through him as he +caught a gleam of recognition there. She lifted her hands feebly, +whispering, "My boy, my precious boy!"</p> + +<p>Kneeling by her side, he waited for her consciousness to come back. Her +hands, so cold and nerveless, grew warmer, her lips smiled wearily, yet +with divine maternal tenderness, and at last she spoke. "My big, +splendid boy! I knew you would not desert me. I knew it; I knew it. I +prayed for you."</p> + +<p>"I came by the very first train," he answered, "and I am here to defend +you."</p> + +<p>A loud knocking at the door startled her and she clasped his hand +tightly as she whispered: "That is another of my enemies. All day they +have been coming. Send them away."</p> + +<p>He put her hands down and rose tensely. "I'll smash their faces," he +hotly declared.</p> + +<p>"Don't be rash, Victor, please."</p> + +<p>He strode to the door and opened it. A dark, handsome young woman and a +grinning youth stood without. They were both a little dashed by Victor's +appearance as he queried, with scowling brow, "What do you want?"</p> + +<p>The man replied, "We came to have a sitting."</p> + +<p>Victor exploded. "Get out," he shouted. "If you come back here again +I'll throw you down the stairs." Thereupon he slammed the door in their +faces and returned to his mother.</p> + +<p>"We've got to get away from here," he said as he came to her. "We can't +stay here another day."</p> + +<p>"That must be as my guide, your grandfather, says," she replied.</p> + +<p>"There's no use talking like that to me, mother. You've got to stop this +business. I won't have any more of it. It's shameful, and I won't have +it."</p> + +<p>She answered, gently: "I'm under orders, Victor. I can do nothing in +opposition to The Voices."</p> + +<p>He bent over her with knitted brow. "See here, mother, I want you to +understand that this medium business has got to be cut out. Look what it +has let you in for! I don't believe in your Voices, and you must—"</p> + +<p>She stopped him. "My son, if you do not believe in The Voices you +cannot believe in me. They are real. If they were not, I should go mad. +They are in my ears all day long. My comfort is that they are not +imaginary. Others hear them, and that proves to me that they are not an +illusion. If you listen they will speak to you."</p> + +<p>"I don't want them to speak to me. I want you to pack up—"</p> + +<p>"Hark!" she commanded. "They are speaking now."</p> + +<p>As he listened, the same measured whisper which he had heard upon +entering the house made itself distinctly heard, apparently in the air, +a little higher than his mother's head. "<i>Boy, trust in us!</i>"</p> + +<p>Victor glanced at his mother's lips. He could not help it; base as it +seemed, he suspected her of ventriloquism. "Who are you?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"<i>Your grandsire, Nelson Blodgett.</i>"</p> + +<p>This reply, apparently without his mother's agency, was uttered in so +plain a tone that Victor's hair rose. He opened and peered into a little +closet which stood behind his mother's chair. It was empty, and as he +came slowly back and stood looking down into her face a low, breathy +chuckle sounded in his ear.</p> + +<p>"<i>A smart lad. Needs discipline.</i>"</p> + +<p>A flush of rage passed over him, leaving him cold. He studied his mother +in silence, convinced that she was cunningly playing upon his fears. As +he pondered she said, quietly: "I'm glad you came, Victor. You fill my +heart with joy; but you must not stay. I do not need you. You must go +back to your studies."</p> + +<p>"That I cannot do."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Victor, you must! I want you to graduate. Father insists on it."</p> + +<p>"I tell you it is impossible. Do you suppose I'm going back there where +all the fellows are laughing at me? Why, they're talking of throwing me +out of the club! More than that, I can't take another cent of your +money. If I had known how you were earning your living I would never +have entered the university at all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my boy, do you doubt me? Do you believe what they say against me?"</p> + +<p>This brought him face to face with the whole problem. "Of course I don't +believe that you cheat—purposely—but I do think you are abnormal. You +can't expect me to believe that a voice can come out of the air like +that. It's impossible! It's against all reason, and yet—"</p> + +<p>At this moment another knock, a gentler signal, sounded at the door, and +the youth, relieved by the interruption, flared out at the unknown +intruder. "Go away," he shouted.</p> + +<p>"No, no; these are friends," his mother asserted, and rose to let them +in.</p> + +<p>Victor caught her by the arm. "What are you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"Open the door. It is one of my dearest friends."</p> + +<p>"You must not give a sitting. I won't have it."</p> + +<p>The knock was repeated and she hurried away, leaving the boy confused, +angry, and helpless.</p> + +<p>She returned, accompanied by two women. The first of them was a +diminutive, gray-haired lady, with a frank and smiling face, whose dress +proclaimed a prosperous and happy station in life. Her companion was a +tall young girl, whose spring suit, quiet in color and exquisitely +tailored, became her notably. The youth thought, "What a stylish girl!" +And the sight of her calmed him instantly.</p> + +<p>"Victor," said his mother, and her tone was one of relief, "these are my +dearest friends, Mrs. Joyce and Leonora Wood, her niece."</p> + +<p>Victor bowed without speaking, for the heart of battle was still in him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce cried out: "What a fine, big fellow! I didn't expect such a +stalwart son."</p> + +<p>"Please be seated," said Mrs. Ollnee. "My son has just arrived. He saw +that dreadful article in the paper and came to defend me."</p> + +<p>"That was fine of you," exclaimed Mrs. Joyce to Victor. "That same +article brought us. I would have been here before only we don't take the +<i>Star</i>, and I did not see the article until about an hour ago."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee took up her explanation. "But, Louise, Victor says he will +not go back to college."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce was quick to apprehend the situation. "I suppose that +outrageous article made it appear necessary for you to defend both your +mother and yourself," she said, searchingly.</p> + +<p>Victor was not disposed to gloze matters in the least. "It made a fool +of me," he responded, bitterly. "It made it impossible for me to look my +friends in the face. How could I convince them that I was not sharing in +the profits of my mother's business? I told them I didn't know where my +allowance came from, but of course no one believed me. I know now, and I +despise the whole business. I've come down here to take my mother out of +it."</p> + +<p>The three women looked at one another sympathetically. Mrs. Joyce, who +knew Mrs. Ollnee's history intimately, only smiled as she answered: "I +don't see that you need to feel ashamed of your mother's profession. A +medium is one of the most precious instruments in this world. She brings +solace to many a sorrowing heart. Why is her work less honorable than +singing, for example? Furthermore, no one is obliged to come to her. We +sit of our own choice, and if we are not pleased we can refuse to pay, +and we need not return. So you see it is a free contract, after all."</p> + +<p>Her reasoning staggered Victor. He was confused also by her frank and +charming manner. He perceived that his problem was not so simple as he +had imagined. Hitherto, his life had been single-hearted, with nothing +more difficult to decide than a question of moral philosophy; but here, +now, he stood confronted by an entirely baffling entanglement of human +wills. This woman, so evidently of the higher world of wealth and +culture, accepted his mother's claims, and this profoundly impressed +him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce continued. "Don't take this newspaper attack too seriously, +Mr. Ollnee. It was meant to be nasty, and it <i>is</i> nasty; but it is not +fatal. It is a cloud that will soon blow over and leave you and your +mother unharmed."</p> + +<p>"It will never blow over for me," he replied, passionately, "and you +must not include me in this thing. I've lived a long way from it thus +far, and I don't intend to mix up with this kind of hokus-pokus."</p> + +<p>"Victor," called his mother, warningly.</p> + +<p>He corrected himself. "Of course I don't accuse you of wilfully +deceiving anybody. I'm willing to grant that you <i>think</i> these Voices +are real; but my teacher, Doctor Boyden, says that mediumship is only a +kind of hysteria—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce laughed. "Yes, I've read Doctor Boyden's books. What does he +know about it? Did he ever study a wonderful psychic like your mother? +Has he candidly examined these phenomena? Never in his life! I know all +about that kind of investigator. He is basing his conclusions on +somebody's else's conjectures or prejudices."</p> + +<p>Victor defended his master. "He has tried to experiment. He's offered +prizes for mediums to meet him, but they have refused. Not one would sit +with him."</p> + +<p>"Why should they? Would you have your mother seek him out to convince +him? Why doesn't he come to her. There he sits in his chair, pretending +to say that these phenomena are impossible, whereas I know, from many +personal tests, that these voices are not merely real, but that they +come from my dear ones on the other side and that they sustain and +comfort me."</p> + +<p>Victor was silenced, and his discomfiture was made the more complete by +the smiling gaze of the young girl, who was evidently enjoying his +perplexity. Nevertheless, though he did not continue the argument, he +held to his opinion that they were all victims of his mother's +unconscious necromancy.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce continued. "You say you know nothing about it. Why not find +out something about it? Here is your mother. Study her."</p> + +<p>"Why don't we have a sitting now?" exclaimed Miss Wood. "It would be fun +to see his face when the horns began to dance about."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee looked a little worried. "Not now, Leo, I'm too upset. It's +been a terrible day for me. I haven't eaten a thing."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce rose. "You poor dear! Let's go get something. Come this +instant. You'll go, Mr. Ollnee."</p> + +<p>His first impulse was to refuse, but as he studied his mother's pale +face and thought of the good effect of the outside air he relented. +"Yes, I'll go," he replied, ungraciously.</p> + +<p>Miss Wood came over to him and tried to soften his mood. "I know how you +feel about all this, and I know how brutal a scientific sharp can be. My +professors were all against it. Just the same, it's a wonderful old +world; a good deal more wonderful than some of our teachers admit."</p> + +<p>He did not reply to this, but stood watching his mother as she put on +her hat and wrap. Her whole expression had changed. Her face had lighted +up and her delicacy of feature and small, graceful hands denoted to him +as never before the woman of natural refinement and intelligence. It was +hard to consider her at the moment the victim of a brain disorder, and +yet—</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce led the way down the creaking stairs, and Victor, following +in sullen silence, was surprised and a little daunted to find a +luxurious automobile waiting for them. He rebelled at the curb. "You go +on without me," he said, harshly. "I'll stay here till you come back."</p> + +<p>"Oh no," exclaimed Mrs. Joyce. "Please come with us. Your mother will +not be happy without you."</p> + +<p>Miss Wood remarked, humorously, "Never refuse a dinner or a ride in a +motor-car; that's my motto."</p> + +<p>His mother timidly lifted her face. "Victor, Mrs. Joyce is my most loyal +friend. I owe her more than you know. I <i>wish</i> you would come."</p> + +<p>He yielded with a sense of stepping down, but as he found himself seated +beside Miss Wood and whirring swiftly up the street his inflexible +attitude softened. "For this one night I will follow; after that I +lead," he promised himself.</p> + +<p>The girl mocked him with subtle intonation. "I am glad of any mystery +and romance which remains in this old world, and I never quarrel with +fate. If any one is disposed to exchange an autocar ride for so +intangible a thing as a voice, I trade."</p> + +<p>A little later she reverted to his problem. "What right have you to pass +judgment on your mother without examining her? I was just as skeptical +as you are when I met her first, but she <i>forced</i> me to believe. I am +perfectly certain that she would upset Doctor Boyden. If he would come +down quietly and sit with her she'd convince even him. She is a very +dear little woman, and we all love her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce leaned over and spoke in his ear. "It is only through devoted +beings like your mother that the bereaved are assured of life +everlasting. She doesn't <i>tell</i> me that my son is living beyond the +veil; <i>she brings him to me</i>. I hear his voice and touch his hand."</p> + +<p>To this sort of thing he was forced to listen during their course down +the shining avenue, and it made the whole city as unreal as a dream. +When they rolled up to the wide portals of a towering hotel a new +anxiety presented itself. "Suppose mother should be recognized as we +enter? Suppose they arrest her here."</p> + +<p>A realization of his own poverty and youth and general helplessness came +over him with crushing effect as he trod the hall, which seemed very +vast and splendid in his eyes. He was subdued, too, by the thought that +he had not silver enough in his pocket to fee the girl who took their +wraps. His resolution to fight, to earn not only his own living but to +rescue his mother, became fainter each moment. "Can it be that yesterday +I was behind the bat?" he asked himself. "Surely I must be dreaming."</p> + +<p>He perceived another side to his mother's character. She seemed quite at +ease amid all this splendor, and accepted whatever Mrs. Joyce did for +her as something quite definitely her due.</p> + +<p>There was no indication of the Sabbath in the gorgeous dining-room, and +nothing to show that sorrow or poverty existed in the world; and seeing +his mother's face flushed with pleasure, the perplexed youth relented a +little further. "This one night she may have, but it must be the last of +such entertainment on such terms."</p> + +<p>There was in him beneath all this antagonism a kind of dignity and manly +strength which pleased Mrs. Joyce. She was glad to see him lighten up, +and she exerted herself to that end. "There now," she said, looking +about the room. "Let's forget all of our troubles. Let us suppose that +all our friends 'on the other side' are at dinner also."</p> + +<p>Victor sat in silence what time his mother decided whether she would +have asparagus soup or consommé. It was his first experience with that +degree of wealth which takes no thought of price, and glancing at the +figures on the bill of fare his hair rose. Never in his life had he +eaten a meal which cost as much as this one order of soup, and the fact +that his mother gaily ordered the best indicated to him how deeply +indebted she already was to her patroness. "There must be some very +definite need which she supplies," he conceded, "or Mrs. Joyce would not +so gladly pay her bills."</p> + +<p>At the same time his respect and admiration for his mother returned. As +the dinner went on her cheeks glowed with faint color. Her years of +trouble seemed to slip away from her. She took on youthful grace and +charm, glancing often at her handsome son with eyes of maternal pride +and content. "It is so good to have you here," she silently expressed. +He had never seen this care-free side of her, and the gayer she grew the +more alien, in a sense, she became. She was instinctively the lady, of +that he was assured, and though she could not follow Miss Wood in all of +her flights of fancy and allusion, she plainly showed unusual powers of +appreciation.</p> + +<p>The talk also brought out the extraordinary intimacy of the three women. +It appeared that Mrs. Joyce and Mrs. Ollnee were inseparable, that she +often took his mother to the opera and to the theater, and as they +discussed various singers and actors, whose names alone he knew, his +sense of being suburban deepened. "Why does this vivid and cultured +woman seek my mother's society? For what reason does she lavish money +upon her? Is it because of her personal charm? No," he decided, "that +cannot be the reason." Beneath her cordial tone he thought he detected +the reserve of one who is being kind to a dependent. "She's being nice +to mother," he concluded, "because she thinks she's getting something +special from her. Mother is a freak, not a friend. She considers her a +kind of spiritual telephone."</p> + +<p>Although Miss Wood devoted herself to the task of amusing him, and his +face lost some of its gravest lines, yet he could not be denoted a +careless youth, even when the wine came on. He was thinking too deeply +to be outwardly ready of retort. It was too sudden a change from the +pastoral air and quiet streets of Winona to be instantly assimilated. He +remained sullen.</p> + +<p>His mother eyed him apprehensively but admiringly. "He looks like his +father," she whispered to Mrs. Joyce.</p> + +<p>He would have been inhuman had he not responded to certain charms in +Miss Wood. She had a fine profile, he admitted, finer than that of any +girl he knew. Her eyes, too, were a little disturbing by reason of the +small wrinkles of laughter at the corners, but she irritated him. She +was perfectly sure of herself. Nothing that he did or failed to do +affected her in any other way apparently than to deepen her amusement. +Her manner seemed to say, "Wait a few days and see what a fool you'll +find yourself out to be. You're nothing but a great big country lad, +trying to be a philosopher, trying to live up to a rigid code of morals. +It's all a pose, a ludicrous attitude of boyish defiance."</p> + +<p>She said nothing of this of course; on the contrary, she talked of +things in which he was interested, trying politely to meet him half way. +She was actually a year or two younger than he, but she gave off the air +of being five years older. She had explored immense tracts of human +life, or at least of social life, of which he had no knowledge, and this +came out in her casual references to New York and Paris. Her home was in +Los Angeles, but she was now staying with her aunt.</p> + +<p>He lost his sullen reserve. The soup, the wine, the bird, and the maid +softened his stern mood. By the time the coffee came on he was talking +almost boyishly with his hostess and his face had lost its troubled +lines.</p> + +<p>His perplexities came back as Mrs. Joyce passed two bills to the waiter +in payment for their dinner, and he watched from the corner of his eye +to see how much change came back. Two dollars! Eighteen dollars for four +dinners! "Great Scot!" he inwardly groaned. "It would take me a week to +earn our share of this meal!" And a returning sense of his mother's +subconscious iniquity reclad him with gloom.</p> + +<p>The ride back to California Avenue was less festive, for Mrs. Joyce took +occasion to say: "My advice is this. Return to college and obtain your +degree. I will take care of your dear little mother."</p> + +<p>"I can't do that," he said. "I've quit. There is no use talking about +that."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't take this newspaper attack too seriously," remarked Miss +Wood. "Reporters are always exposing mediums. It is quite habitual with +them, and besides, your mother has been through it before."</p> + +<p>"Is that true?" he asked, with sharpened assault.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mrs. Ollnee admitted. "I've been attacked in this way twice."</p> + +<p>"Since I have been grown up?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; once since you went to Winona."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know that. Why didn't you tell me?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce interposed. "What was the use? You could have done nothing. +We who understand these matters make allowances for the reporter's +trade. He must earn a living some way."</p> + +<p>As she said this Victor recalled the cynical close of the article. +"Probably the true-blue believer will condemn the detective and not the +culprit," the lines ran. "There are dupes so purblind, so infatuated +that nothing, not even the boldest chicanery can shake their faith; +nevertheless, a few will take this article for what it is, a full and +clear exposé of a shrewd and conscienceless trickster." And yet, as he +faced these intelligent women, Victor could not think of them as being +deceived by open chicanery, much less could he admit for a moment that +his mother was capable of resorting to it.</p> + +<p>It was a dramatic and moving experience for him to go from this +cushioned, splendid chariot back to the shabby little apartment which +was the only home in the wide world for either his mother or himself. He +was filled with a kind of rage at her, at fate, and at himself, and no +sooner were they inside the door than he turned upon her with a note of +resentful resolution in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Mother, how could you let me in for all of this? Why did you send me to +college, knowing that sooner or later exposure must come?"</p> + +<p>"I trusted the voices," she replied, "just as I must continue to trust +them in the future."</p> + +<p>"Now, mother," he rejoined with a certain foreboding grimness of +inflection, "we've got to get right down to brass tacks on that +business. I can't go on any longer in ignorance of who I am and what you +are. I want to know all about you and all about my father. Who was my +father? What was he? Did he believe in this thing?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes fell. "No, not while he was on this life's plane. Indeed, it +was my 'work' that—that separated us. He hated it and was very harsh +about it. But the first thing he did after he passed on was to come back +and tell me that I was right after all. He asked me to forgive him."</p> + +<p>"Is that his picture up there on the wall? What did he do for a living?"</p> + +<p>"He was a really fine mind, Victor; one of those men who might have been +eminent had they gone out into the world. He was a student and a +thinker, but he was not ambitious. He was content to be the principal of +a village school and live quietly; and we were very happy till The +Voices began."</p> + +<p>"Did he know you had The Voices when he married you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I told him all about them, but he only laughed at me. I suppose he +thought it was just a fancy on my part. Anyhow, he did not take them +seriously, and during our courtship they gave me freedom. My guide said +I need not sit for a while and father guarded me from all the evil ones +on that side who are so ready to rush in and take possession of a +medium. For two years I had no touch of 'the power,' and I really +thought it had all gone away from me. Then you came and I was very ill, +and father, my control, returned to tell me that you would be a great +man. 'Hereafter,' he said, 'I will direct you in the education of your +son.' Why, Victor, he named you. He said you should be called Victor +because you would overcome all opposition."</p> + +<p>"Well, just how did your separation come about?"</p> + +<p>"When my control began to demand things from me your father accused me +of playing tricks and sternly forbade any more of it. I tried not to go +into trance. I fought 'the power' and this angered father. He came upon +me so strong that I could do nothing with him. I heard The Voices all +the time and your father thought me crazy. I had what seemed like +epileptic fits. I seemed to lose my identity—but I didn't; I knew all +that was going on. It seemed as if I went out of my body while others +entered it and used it to torment and perplex your father. Then he +became convinced that I was abnormal in some way and experimented with +me—all in a very skeptical spirit—and gradually he lost his regard for +me. I became only 'a case of hysteria' to him. I could see him change +from day to day. He grew colder and more critical and more aloof all the +time. This made me so ill that I was unable to keep my feet—I grew old +rapidly, and another younger and prettier woman, one of his teachers, +gained the love I had lost and at last he went away with her."</p> + +<p>There was a little silence before Victor was able to ask, "Where did he +go?"</p> + +<p>"He went to Denver, and I never saw him again. He died not long after."</p> + +<p>"Then did you take to making a living out of the ghost-room?"</p> + +<p>"After your father left I asked my guides why they permitted him to +leave me, and they said it was considered necessary to keep me in 'the +work.' 'You were too happy,' they said. 'You are too valuable an +instrument to live out your life simply as wife and mother. You are now +to be devoted to higher aims.' Since then whenever I have tried to get +out of 'the work' they have brought me back. Oh, you don't know what a +clutch they have on me. They know my income to a dollar. They let me +have just enough to live on and to educate you, but they won't let my +rich friends provide me with an income. I must do their will exactly or +they punish me."</p> + +<p>As she enlarged upon this phase of her life Victor was appalled by it. +Her madness—and madness it seemed to him—was now a settled and +specific part of her life. "How do they punish you?" he asked, after a +pause.</p> + +<p>"They do not hesitate to throw me into convulsions, or make me do things +that rob me of my friends. They bring disaster upon me whenever I try to +walk my own road. Every investment I make on my own judgment they +defeat. Did you ever plague an ant or a bug by putting something in its +way, checking its advance, no matter in which direction it went?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. "Yes, I've done that as a boy."</p> + +<p>"Well, that is exactly how they treat me. I've given up trying to do +anything in opposition to their wishes. I do the work that is laid out +for me." She sighed. "Yes, I've ceased to rebel. I am resigned. But, +Victor, you must not fail me. I shall be perfectly happy if only you +will be content to go with me and to grant at least that the work I am +doing is worth while. You're all I have now, and when I see you frowning +at me, so like your father, I am scared. That black look is on your face +this moment."</p> + +<p>"You need not be afraid of me, mother," he replied, wearily; "but you +must not ask me to believe in your voices and all the rest of it. It's +too unnatural and too foolish. But you're my good little mother all the +same, and I'm not going to desert you. I'm going to stay right here and +help you fight it out."</p> + +<p>She took his words to mean something sweet and filial and went to his +arms with happiness.</p> + +<p>As she lifted her head from his shoulder he looked round the room and +said, "But, mother, this ghost-room has got to go."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Victor, don't say that. I am ready to promise not to take money for +my work, but I can't promise anything further; and as for my ghost-room, +as you call it, it has so many associations with Paul and your +grandfather that I cannot think of giving it up. I dare not give it up."</p> + +<p>"You must quit it," he repeated. "If you give another séance—for +money—I will leave you and I will never come back." And on his face was +the stubborn look of his father.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2> + +<h3>VICTOR MAKES A TEST</h3> + + +<p>That night was a long and restless one for the mother, but the son, with +the healthy boy's power of forgetfulness, slept dreamlessly, waking only +when the morning light struck beneath his eyelids. For a moment the +thunder of the elevated trains in the alley puzzled him, and he rose +dazedly on his elbow expecting to catch Frenson at some practical joke, +but as his eyes took in the faded carpet, the cheap curtains, the +decrepit furniture, his brain cleared and his beleaguering worries came +back upon him like a swarm of vultures.</p> + +<p>He recalled the terror of his mother's trance, the coming of her lovely +friends, the ride, the luxurious dinner, and, last of all, the +significant words with which they had parted.</p> + +<p>In the light of the day his situation did not seem so complicated. "We +must leave this city and go out West somewhere—get shut of the whole +bunch. Father was right—this trance business is intolerable."</p> + +<p>His natural vigor and decision returned to him. He rose with a bound, +calling to his mother with a realization of the fact that she had no +cook. "Who gets breakfast, you or I?"</p> + +<p>She replied, with a little flutter of dismay in her voice, "I don't +believe there is a crumb of bread in the house."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," he replied; "I'll go to the corner and negotiate a roll."</p> + +<p>The neighborhood did not improve with daylight acquaintance, and on his +way back from the shop with a jug of cream and a paper bag in his hands +he dwelt again upon his motor-car ride to the Palace Hotel and reviewed +the eighteen-dollar meal they had eaten. He possessed sufficient sense +of humor to grin as he clutched his parcels. "If Miss Wood were to see +me now she'd experience a jolt."</p> + +<p>His smile did not last long. "Mrs. Joyce knows all about us," he +admitted. "That's why she blew us to that feast. She was trying to +compensate mother for her empty cupboard, which was very nice of her." +Then his thought went deeper. He began to understand that it was to +provide him with a larger allowance that his mother had been living +alone and doing her own work. "Dear little mutter!" he said, and his +heart softened toward her. "She's been walking the tight-rope, all +right."</p> + +<p>She was up and at work in the tiny kitchen as he came in. "I forgot to +get my supplies Saturday—and yesterday I was so upset—"</p> + +<p>"Never mind," he replied, gaily. "The 'royal gorge' we had last night +makes breakfast supererogatory. I've attached some rolls and a bottle of +cream, and if you've any coffee and sugar we're fixed."</p> + +<p>"I have sugar but no coffee. I drink—"</p> + +<p>"Not on your life!" he cut in. "No burnt wheat for me!" And he tore down +the stairs like mad.</p> + +<p>At the shop he found himself possessed of just seventeen cents, with +which he bought a half-pound of coffee.</p> + +<p>"Now I can begin my conquest of the world as all the great men have +done—penniless. It's me for a stroll down-town, I reckon."</p> + +<p>The table was neatly set when he returned, and his mother, proud of her +big and glowing boy, cheerily confronted him. "No matter how poor we +are," she said, "we can be happy." And with her faith renewed she +prepared the coffee for the cream.</p> + +<p>The sun struck into the bare little dining-room with golden charm, but +these two souls, so alike yet so unlike, faced each other with returning +constraint. As they talked their antagonism of purpose again developed.</p> + +<p>Victor outlined his plan of going West and starting anew. To this +suggestion his mother listened, then gently replied: "There are many +objections to that, Victor. First of all, I have no money."</p> + +<p>"Can't we sell something?" She shook her head, and he, after looking +around, ruefully admitted that there was nothing to sell. "But your +house—" This gave him a thought. "Why don't we go back to La Crescent? +I'll work on a farm, in a grocery—anything rather than have you keep on +with this business. It's dangerous, and it isn't nice."</p> + +<p>"Victor," she began, with more of self-assertion than she had hitherto +voiced, "you don't understand. My mediumship is not a business, it is a +sacred obligation. God has gifted me with the power of communicating +with those who have passed to a higher plane, and I must respect that +gift. I am in the hands of those wiser than either of us. To oppose them +would be self-destruction."</p> + +<p>He listened with growing coldness and hardness. "That's all a delusion," +he repeated. "Modern science has proved that mediumship is just plain +hysteria."</p> + +<p>"We won't argue," she replied, and her tone was that of one hurt. "I +<i>know</i>, for I have had the personal experience. I am only a leaf in the +wind when this power sweeps over me. So long as I live I must remain the +instrument of these our supernal friends—it is my work in the world, +and I must execute it."</p> + +<p>"What do you expect me to do?" he asked, almost brutally.</p> + +<p>"I'd like you to go back to your studies—"</p> + +<p>"That I will not do," he assured her in tones that expressed a final +decision.</p> + +<p>"Well then—will you remain here with me?"</p> + +<p>"Not with you carrying on the business which I hate."</p> + +<p>"Why should you hate it? To Leo and Mrs. Joyce my mission is noble."</p> + +<p>"I hate it because I think it's foolish, unnatural, and false. I don't +mean that you <i>consciously</i> cheat, mother, but I am certain that in some +way it all comes down to that."</p> + +<p>She opened her arms in a gesture of passionate appeal. "My son, these +Voices have educated you—they have helped me to feed and clothe you. +Now here I am, prove me, try me, convict me if you can. I yield myself +to your tests. I <i>know</i> the spirit life is a reality. If I did not I +should perish with despair. Every day, almost all hours of the day, +these Voices whisper in my ears. The hands of those you call the dead +caress my cheek. They cheer and admonish me. They are as real to me as +you are. If you can silence them, do so. I put myself into your hands. +Do what you will in proof of my powers."</p> + +<p>The boy was rapidly changing to the man. His mother's words beating upon +his brain aroused something in him which he had not hitherto +acknowledged. He thought deeply as he peered into her eyes, burning with +resolution.</p> + +<p>"She is honest—but she is the victim of a fixed idea." He had heard +much of "the fixed idea." "I will try her, I will rid her of her +obsession." Aloud he said: "The important thing is our living. How am I +to pay my way? I haven't a cent. I paid out my last penny for this +coffee."</p> + +<p>"I have a little money."</p> + +<p>"I told you I wouldn't take another dollar of your money, and I won't," +he replied, sharply. "That's settled. I must get clear and keep clear of +all this 'bunk.'"</p> + +<p>"But suppose you find my powers real?" she asked, trembling with +eagerness.</p> + +<p>He hesitated. "Then—well—if I believed in your powers I would still +object to your earning money with—by means of your—your Voices. I've +got to make my own way in the world, and from this moment!"</p> + +<p>She read an unmitigable opposition in his eyes and sadly said, "You'll +come here to sleep, won't you?"</p> + +<p>He conceded so much, though reluctantly. "Yes, I'll sleep here, but as +soon as I make a raise of any work I intend to pay for my board. As for +carfare, I guess my junk will have to go into 'hock.'" He rose. "You +see, I won a silver mug and a watch by being useful to the team. It's +them to 'Uncle Jake's,'" he ended, with a return to the college youth's +vocabulary, and going to his valise took out his reward for muscular +merit and showed it to her. "Isn't that smooth?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes shone with pride. "How much do you suppose you can borrow on +it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. Five dollars, maybe."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll lend you ten dollars on it."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with musing eyes. "Say twenty, and you may have both +mug and watch."</p> + +<p>She went to her purse and handed to him the money.</p> + +<p>He took it without hesitation. "Well, here's where I hit the pavement +for a job."</p> + +<p>She confronted him in a final appeal. "Oh, Victor, I can't bear to have +you doubt me even for an hour. Stay with me to-day. Stay and let me talk +with you. I've had so little of you. Just think! for more than twelve +years I've kept you away from me—I've starved myself—my +mother-self—in order that you might grow to manhood untroubled by my +faith, and I can't bear to have you doubt me now."</p> + +<p>He understood something of her emotion and responded to it. "You dear, +faithful little mother, I realize now what I have cost you, and I'm +grateful; but that's the very reason why I can't let you do any more of +it. I must begin to pay you back."</p> + +<p>"All you need to do to pay me is to let me look at you," she fondly +replied. "I'm proud of you, Victor. I was proud of you last night. I saw +Leo admiring you, and Mrs. Joyce thinks you are splendid."</p> + +<p>He was interested. "By the way, who is Miss Wood?"</p> + +<p>"She's a niece of Mrs. Joyce. Mrs. Joyce is the widow of Joyce the +lumberman."</p> + +<p>"She seems to have all kinds of money." His face was thoughtful again.</p> + +<p>"Yes, she's rich, and she has been very kind to me. She took me to +California and to Europe. She is always doing things for me. It was just +like her to come to me yesterday—she is not one to fail in time of +trouble. I don't know what I should do without her."</p> + +<p>"She certainly is nice. What about Miss Wood? Does she believe in +your—your Voices?" He asked this without direct glance.</p> + +<p>"Yes. She doesn't say much, but she is deeply grateful to my guides."</p> + +<p>"She's no ordinary girl, I can see that. Is she rich also?"</p> + +<p>"Not as Mrs. Joyce is rich, but The Voices have sort of adopted her. +They say they will make her wealthy as a queen."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"They are telling her from week to week just how to invest her money."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me that <i>you</i> advise her how to invest her money?"</p> + +<p>"No, I mean <i>The Voices</i> advise her."</p> + +<p>"Why should 'they' know anything about business?"</p> + +<p>She became evasive. "They do! They've proved it again and again. Mrs. +Joyce's income has doubled in five years by following father's advice."</p> + +<p>He pondered on this deeply. "I don't like that. I don't see why you or +your Voices should be valuable in that way."</p> + +<p>"There are many things in this world for you to learn, my son," she +replied with an assumption of superior wisdom.</p> + +<p>This nettled him. "It don't take much wisdom to know that if you go on +advising people in that way you'll get into trouble. That's what that +writer said in the paper."</p> + +<p>She closed her lips tightly as if to keep back a cutting reply, and he +rose briskly. "Well, see here, we must put away these dishes."</p> + +<p>She acquiesced in his postponement of the discussion, and helped him +wash the dishes and set the room to rights. At last she said: "Where is +the morning <i>Star</i>? Have you seen it?"</p> + +<p>"There's a paper at the foot of the stairs; is that yours?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied.</p> + +<p>"I'll get it," he said, and was out of the door and back again before +she fully realized that he was gone. He opened the twist of damp paper +with haste, fully expecting to find some new attack on "Mrs. Ollnee, the +Blood-sucker," but there was nothing. "All the same, you're not safe in +this house," he said. "They threatened to arrest you, and I don't like +to leave you here alone to-day."</p> + +<p>"You need not worry about me," she replied, quietly. "Father will take +care of me. If he saw any real danger coming my way he would warn me of +it."</p> + +<p>"He didn't warn you of the coming of the reporter, did he?"</p> + +<p>"No—he had some reason for permitting this cloud to come upon me. He +knows best."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I'd put very much faith in 'guides' that didn't keep me +out of trouble."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps all this is a part of our discipline. They are wiser than we. I +accept even this disgrace as a good in disguise. Perhaps it was all +intended to bring you to me."</p> + +<p>The youth sank back again baffled by this all-inclosing acceptance. +"What do you intend to do to-day?" he asked, as she rose and walked over +to the little walnut table.</p> + +<p>"I am going to ask for advice."</p> + +<p>"Now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and I wish you would sit with me for a few moments and see if we +cannot secure direction for the day."</p> + +<p>He was beginning to be curious—and his desire to dig deeper into his +mother's brain overcame part of his repugnance.</p> + +<p>"All right," he boyishly answered, but his heart contracted with sudden +fear of finding her false. "Let's see what they're up to."</p> + +<p>"Take a seat opposite me," she said, and there was something commanding +in her voice.</p> + +<p>Drawing a chair up to the old brown table—which he remembered as one of +the pieces of furniture in his earliest childhood home—he took a seat.</p> + +<p>"Why do you keep this rickety old thing?" he asked, shaking it +viciously.</p> + +<p>"It was your grandfather's reading-table, and he likes me to keep it. +Besides, it is highly magnetized and very sensitive."</p> + +<p>"Oh rats!" he irreverently burst forth. "You can't magnetize a piece of +wood. Wood is a non-conductor. You can't subvert a physical law just by +saying so."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean it in that crude sense," she replied, quite mistress of +herself. She had taken up and was holding between her hands a small +hinged slate.</p> + +<p>"What's that for?" asked Victor.</p> + +<p>"To vitalize the surface. I am able to give it vitality by my touch." +She laid the slate upon the table and placed her spread hand upon it. +"Put your hand upon mine, Victor."</p> + +<p>He did as she bade him, rebelling at the childish folly of it all. "What +do you expect to do?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Almost immediately the slate seemed seized by a powerful hand. It began +to slide back and forth across the table violently, twisting and +clattering. The youth put forth his own great strength and stopped it, +but a crunching sound announced that the slate was broken.</p> + +<p>His mother said, sharply, "You mustn't do that, Victor." She took up the +slate and showed one corner crushed and crumbled. "You can't hold +it—you mustn't try—it angers them."</p> + +<p>He marveled at the strength which had resisted him, but argued that his +mother from long practice had become very muscular. Hysterical people +often displayed astounding power.</p> + +<p>After preparing a new slate she put it on the table as before, saying to +the air, "Please don't be rough, father—Victor can't prevent his +skepticism."</p> + +<p>Three loud raps answered, and she smiled. He says, "All right. He +understands."</p> + +<p>"Seems to me he's mighty touchy for one on the heavenly plane," Victor +retorted, maliciously. "Seems to me an all-seeing spirit ought to get my +point of view."</p> + +<p>A vigorous tapping on the table responded to this speech.</p> + +<p>"What's that?" asked Victor.</p> + +<p>"That is your father saying yes, he <i>does</i> get your point of view."</p> + +<p>Victor had a feeling that his mother was receding from him as he faced +her across the table. She became the professional medium in her manner +and tone. He, too, changed. He hardened, assuming the attitude of the +scientific observer—hostile and derisive. His keen hazel-gray eyes +grew penetrating and his lips curled in scorn. His tone hurt her, but +she persisted in her sitting, and at last the slate began to tremble +throughout all its parts, and a grating sound like slow writing with a +pencil went on beneath it. Victor could plainly follow the dotting of +the i's and the crossing of the t's, till at the end a tapping indicated +that it was finished.</p> + +<p>"You may take the slate, Victor," said Mrs. Ollnee.</p> + +<p>He took it from the table and opened it. On one side, in bold script—a +bit old-fashioned—stood these words: "<i>Stay where you are. Let the boy +adventure into the city. Await results. I will be near. FATHER.</i>"</p> + +<p>Victor, astounded, mystified, confronted his mother with wide eyes. +"Now, what does that mean?"</p> + +<p>"It means that I am to keep this house just as it is and you are to seek +work in the city. Is that right, Paul?"</p> + +<p>Three taps made answer.</p> + +<p>The youth was stunned by the boldness and cleverness of all this. He was +pained, too. He perceived no sign of abnormal thinking in his mother's +action. She was not hysterical. <i>She was not entranced.</i> Whatever she +did she did consciously—and the thought that she could deliberately +deceive him was shocking. He breathed quickly and a nervous clutch came +into his hands. He resented being fooled. "Let's try that again," he +said; and his tone was precisely that of the child who sees a grown +person swallow a coin and take it out of his ear. He was angry as well +as sad. "Don't put your hand on it," he protested. "I don't like the +looks of that."</p> + +<p>She submitted, and then as he was putting it down on the table the sound +of writing was heard within it. He laid his hand on the slates, and +still the writing went on! With amazement he realized that both her +hands were in sight and in no wise concerned in the writing. The right +rested lightly and quietly on the frame of the slate, but the left, +which lay on the opposite corner of the table, was quivering throughout +all its minute muscles.</p> + +<p>Amazed beyond words, excited, breathing deep, with a shudder of nervous +excitement running over his entire body, Victor listened to the mystic +pencil. "How <i>do</i> you work that?" he asked, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I have nothing to do with it," she answered; and taking +the upper hinge of the slate between her fingers and thumb she slowly +raised it.</p> + +<p><i>And still the writing went on!</i></p> + +<p>Victor, holding his breath in awe, bent to look within, but as the +opening grew wider the writing stopped.</p> + +<p>He snatched the slates from the table and studied the lines, which were +made up of minute dots. It was all perfectly legible: "<i>Son. I doubted. +Now I know.</i>"</p> + +<p>Victor sank back into his seat and stared speechlessly at the slate and +the table. The problem of his mother's mediumship had taken on new +elements of mystery. This physical test brought it into the range of his +knowledge and interest. It was no longer a question of her honesty or +sanity, it had become a problem in dynamics.</p> + +<p>How was that bit of pencil moved? The messages he ignored—they didn't +matter—but the method of their production seemed to eliminate all +trickery, conscious or unconscious. Why did his mother's left hand +quiver—and how could that writing shape itself?</p> + +<p>His voice was husky with emotion as he said: "Mother, I don't understand +that. You've got to tell me how that is done."</p> + +<p>She felt the desperate resolution in his voice and she solemnly +answered, "My son, I don't <i>know</i> how it is done."</p> + +<p>"But you <i>must</i> know! Who moves that pencil! Your hand quivered all the +time."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I seem to have some physical connection with it—at times. Other +times all that takes place has no more connection with me than the +sunlight on the floor. The world is a very mysterious place to me, +Victor. I don't pretend to know anything. I do as I am told."</p> + +<p>He fell silent again while his mind reviewed the entire process. Then +he burst out, vehemently, on a new line. "I can't believe my eyes. +You've hypnotized me. Mother, for God's sake don't juggle with me—don't +play tricks with me. I won't stand for it. It hurts me—" He paused, +confused, baffled, ready to weep.</p> + +<p>"Can you, my own son, accuse me of trickery?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"You <i>think</i> you're honest, mother—but don't you see you've become an +<i>unconscious hypnotist</i>? It's your subconscious self deceiving us both. +I don't know how you do it, but I know it must be a fraud."</p> + +<p>"Victor," she said, solemnly, "what this power is you shall have full +opportunity to determine, but I say to you that for more than twenty +years I've been guided by these unseen presences. I've tested their +wisdom and lived under their care. So far as this message is concerned I +accept it. I was confused and frightened yesterday, but this morning I +am calm. I shall do as they bid. I shall stay here while you go down +into the city and see what you can find to do, and together we will test +these voices."</p> + +<p>There was a ring of new-found decision in her tone that quite dashed +him. He sat dumbly facing her, helpless in a whirl of mental storm. "Is +she more cunning than I thought? Is she playing a more complex game than +appears?" These thoughts vaguely shaped themselves. Then his filial self +answered: "But what has she to gain? She loves me. She has sacrificed +herself to keep me at school—why should she deceive me?"</p> + +<p>Here again a third conception came to embitter him. He spoke. "You don't +seem to mind my loss of a degree?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do, Victor. I feel that very deeply, but the higher wisdom of +your grandfather resigns me. I cannot tell what is behind it. By his +power to read the future he may be preventing some terrible accident, +some calamity by fire or water—I have an impression that it is +something of that sort."</p> + +<p>"<i>No</i>," came a whisper from the air.</p> + +<p>She turned her face upward, and, listening intently, asked, "What is the +reason, father?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Discipline</i>," the whisper replied.</p> + +<p>"He says 'discipline,' Victor."</p> + +<p>"Discipline!" he echoed. "Why should I be disciplined? What have I +done?"</p> + +<p>"<i>It is not what you've done—it's what you are to do.</i>"</p> + +<p>The Voice did not reply to further questions, and the silence gave out a +kind of cold contempt, which cut the boy as he waited.</p> + +<p>"Let's try that slate business again," he said at last. But to this his +mother would not consent.</p> + +<p>"It's of no use," she said. "They are gone. There is no 'power' +present."</p> + +<p>He again faced her with alien, accusing eyes. "When will you try this +again?"</p> + +<p>"To-night, when you come home."</p> + +<p>"Home!" he sneered, looking about. "Do you expect me to call this place +home? Do you expect me to hang about this scrubby hole to be disciplined +by your Voices?"</p> + +<p>The sound of a knock at the door gave her a moment's respite. "The +postman," she explained as she rose to go to the door.</p> + +<p>She was gone for several minutes and Victor heard her in friendly +conversation with a pleasant male voice. Some way this added to his +anger and disgust.</p> + +<p>She came back with a letter in her hand which she began at once to open. +"It is from Louise, I mean Mrs. Joyce."</p> + +<p>She read it through with smiling face, then said, "Victor, you must be +nice to Louise, she has done <i>everything</i> for us."</p> + +<p>This brought him to his feet. "I understand all that now. It is <i>her</i> +money I've been living on—I won't touch another cent that comes from +her. Understand that! I won't eat another dinner that she pays for."</p> + +<p>"Why, Victor, you should not feel that way! What has she done to make +you bitter?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. I refuse to live on her charity, that's all, and I want you to +find out just how much I owe her—how much <i>you</i> owe her—for I intend +to pay her back every dollar with interest."</p> + +<p>"But she considers I've already paid her. She feels that I have always +given her bounteous return for all her aid."</p> + +<p>"I don't figure it that way," he said. "She's just amusing herself—"</p> + +<p>She interrupted. "Listen to what she says." She read: "'I want to tell +you how much I like your son. He is so vivid and so powerful. I'm sorry +he is to miss his degree. Can't you persuade him to go back? I'll be +glad to advance what is necessary—'"</p> + +<p>"There it is, you see! There's the rich lady helping a poor relation."</p> + +<p>"Wait, son!" she pleaded, and read on. "'I feel that I owe you ten times +what you've permitted me to do for you.'"</p> + +<p>"That's all very nice of her, mother, but I won't have any more of it." +He pounded out the sentence with his fist.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him with mingled fear and pride. "You are exactly like +your father as you say that," she declared. "Oh, Victor, my son! If +<i>you</i> leave me in anger I shall be desolate indeed. I can't live without +you. Please believe in me—and love me—for you're all I have on this +earth."</p> + +<p>His anger died away. He saw her again as she really was, a pale, devoted +little saint, with troubled brow and quivering lips, one who had shed +her very life-blood for him—to doubt her became a monstrous cruelty.</p> + +<p>He put his arms about her and hugged her close. "I didn't mean to hurt +you, mother—but your world is so strange to me. I'll stay, I'll do the +best I can here; only don't work this slate trick any more. Don't sit +for any one but me. Will you promise that?"</p> + +<p>"May I not sit for Louise?"</p> + +<p>"Not without me."</p> + +<p>"I dare not promise, Victor. Father may insist. If he does <i>not</i> insist +I will do as you wish. I will give it up."</p> + +<p>He kissed her. "Dear little mother, you sha'n't live alone any more, and +you shall soon have a home that is worthy of you."</p> + +<p>She was weeping, and a big lump in his own throat made speech difficult. +To cover his emotion he slangily said: "Well, now, it's me to the marts +of trade. Perhaps I'll fool The Voices yet."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2> + +<h3>VICTOR THROWS DOWN THE ALTAR</h3> + + +<p>"How do people get jobs," he asked himself as he set forth. "'Want ads,' +I suppose." He went deeper. "What am I fitted for? I can keep books—in +a fashion—or I can clerk. My training has not fitted me for any special +thing, unless to sell sporting-goods." This was a "lead," and his face +brightened. "My work on the team ought to help me in that direction. +Good idea! I'll hie me to the sporting-goods houses."</p> + +<p>The first two managers with whom he talked, while much impressed by him, +were completely manned, but the third was disposed to consider him till +he told him his name. "No relation to Mrs. Ollnee, the medium?" he +asked, with a grin, while poising his pencil to write.</p> + +<p>For an instant Victor hesitated, then took the leap. "Well, yes, I am, +but then you don't want to believe that report; it's more than half a +lie."</p> + +<p>The manager's smile vanished. He left the address half finished. "So you +are the son they spoke of?" he said, with a cold, keen glance.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am," Victor boldly answered.</p> + +<p>He closed his book. "I don't believe we can trade," he announced. "Of +course <i>I</i> don't consider all mediums frauds and liars, but this house +is very particular about its help—"</p> + +<p>Victor turned and walked away, bitterly rebellious of soul and +disheartened. For a time his anger burned so hotly within him that he +meditated taking the train and leaving the city and all it held behind +him. Again and again his thought returned to the picture his gentle +little mother had made as she had said good-by to him at the head of the +stairs. To accuse her of conscious deception was like accusing a sweet +girl of infanticide. How could she build up a system of fraudulent +fortune-telling, so intricate, so subtle, that it baffled the eye of the +reporter, who confessed that he had not been able to detect the +trickery. "It is only by induction, by inference, that one gets at the +<i>modus operandi</i>," he admitted.</p> + +<p>In his perturbation he walked away to the east and soon came out upon +the lake-front. A bunch of men and boys of all types and sizes were +playing ball on the barren ground, and with the athlete's undying love +of the sport he rose and edged into the game. He could not resist +showing his prowess by means of a few curves, and the crowd with instant +perception began to take a vivid interest in him.</p> + +<p>A half-hour of this restored his good-nature and he returned to the +cañons to the west, determined to find an opening somewhere. He was +never dismissed rudely—he was too big and well-dressed for that—but +the fact that he had no experience shut him out in most cases, and for +the rest the departments were filled with salesmen. Twice when he seemed +about to be taken on, his name and his mothers reputation shut the door +of opportunity in his face.</p> + +<p>At four o'clock he started slowly homeward, discouraged, not so much by +his failure as by the fact that everybody seemed to have a knowledge of +the article in the <i>Star</i>. It was evident that even when a manager did +not at the moment make the connection between his name and Mrs. Ollnee's +it would certainly come out later and he would be called upon to defend +himself and his mother from the sneers and jeers of his fellow-salesmen. +"I'm a marked man, that's sure," he said, in dismay.</p> + +<p>All day his mind had dwelt in flashes on the glorious life at Winona, +but now his memory of it was poisoned by the thought that he had been a +pensioner on the bounty of Mrs. Joyce. "The easy thing would be to +change my name and skip out for the plains," he said again, "but I +won't. I'll stay and fight it out right here some way."</p> + +<p>He was passing the public library at the moment and was moved to go in +and look up the "want ads" in the papers. Ten minutes' reading of these +filled him with despair. There were so many wanting work! His feet were +tired with walking and his brain weary with the movement of the street, +therefore he moved on to the reference room where he found an atmosphere +of study that was very grateful.</p> + +<p>Accustomed to work of this kind, he asked the attendant to bring him +catalogues, and was soon surrounded with books and magazines which dealt +with the modern study of psychic phenomena. He fell upon one or two of +these which gave exhaustive generalizations, and he was astounded to +find that European men of science of the loftiest type were engaged in +the study of precisely the same phenomena which his mother claimed to +produce.</p> + +<p>Careless of all else, he remained until six o'clock absorbed and +confused by what he read. Words and phrases like "telekinesis," +"teleplastic," "parasitic personalities," "externalized motricity," +"bio-psychic energy" danced about in his brain like fantastic insects. +He fairly staggered with the weight of the conceptions laid upon him, +and when at last he went out into the streets he had forgotten his race +for place behind the counter.</p> + +<p>It was nearly sunset, and his afternoon—his day—had gone for naught! +He was as far as ever from securing work—and wages—to keep his little +mother and himself from the corrupting care of charity. He was a bit +disgusted with himself, too, for wasting valuable time, and yet he was +enough of the scholar to feel a glow of delight in the company he had +been keeping. There was something large and free in the attitude of +those Italian men toward the universe, and before he had walked far he +promised himself to go again and continue that line of investigation. As +he walked up the avenue he came face to face with the dark, thin-faced +girl who had knocked at his mother's door the day before. She seemed +about to speak, but he passed her with blank look.</p> + +<p>He found his mother at the window waiting for him, and upon seeing him +she hurried to meet him at the head of the stairs.</p> + +<p>"What luck?" she called, with a smile.</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "Nothing doing," and received her caress rather +coldly, for he perceived Mrs. Joyce in the room. "It isn't so easy to +find a job. I'll be lucky if I dig one up in a week, I suppose."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce greeted him cordially. "I've just been making a proposition +to your mother, Victor—I hope you'll let me call you Victor—which is, +that we all go abroad for a few months till this storm blows over."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with gravely interrogating glance. "How could we do +that?"</p> + +<p>She explained. "You both go as my guests, of course. We can motor +through France in June and get up into Switzerland in July."</p> + +<p>He sank into a chair and dazedly studied her. "Why should you offer to +do all that for us?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am very grateful to your mother for what she has done for me. +She not only cured my mother of cancer—she has cured me of despair. She +has taught me to believe again in the mystery of the world."</p> + +<p>"You mean she has done this as—as a medium?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—through her guides she has given me faith in the hereafter. Their +advice on a hundred different things has made life easy for me. My +wealth is largely due to the wisdom of Mr. Astor, who speaks through +her. He advises, and so does your grandfather, that I take you all +abroad this summer, and I think it a very nice suggestion."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the suggestion came from The Voices, did it?" His voice was full of +scornful suggestion.</p> + +<p>"Yes; but I thought of it myself yesterday as I read that terrible +article. You see, I'm told by Mr. Bartol, my lawyer, that the city +officials are about to start another campaign against all forms of +mediumship. I think it best, and so does your father, that we all leave +the city for a time, and escape this persecution."</p> + +<p>The beleaguered youth was not a polite deceiver at his best, and this +proposal appeared to him not merely chimerical, but immoral, for the +reason that his mother must have really proposed it. Through her +uncanny power of hypnosis, of suggestion, she had put the idea into her +rich friend's head. "I won't consider any such proposition," he bluntly +answered. "I don't recognize my mother's claim. You owe her nothing. I +don't believe she can cure cancer, and she has no right to advise +anybody in business matters."</p> + +<p>"You say that because you know nothing of the facts," Mrs. Joyce briskly +replied. "I understand your situation perfectly. Your mother has kept me +informed of her worries—she has no secrets from me—and I must say I +foresaw this antagonism on your part. I felt that you were growing away +from her, and yet The Voices advised her to keep you at school and to +say nothing. To show you how close they watch you I can tell you that +we've been informed of your whereabouts several times to-day. You met a +young man at noon, a pale, serious young man, whose name is Gilmer, who +said he would help you. Isn't that true?"</p> + +<p>He was properly surprised. "Yes, I did meet such a man."</p> + +<p>"Then you went to the library and read for a long time?"</p> + +<p>He sneered. "Did The Voices tell you that I was turned down everywhere +on account of my mother's reputation as a medium?"</p> + +<p>"No; but they said you would oppose the idea of our going abroad, and +that you were under discipline."</p> + +<p>"You're tired, Victor," interposed the mother. "Don't worry over me any +more now. I'll get you some coffee."</p> + +<p>While she was gone on this errand Mrs. Joyce leaned toward Victor and +said: "I can understand a part of your feeling, because there was a time +when I lived in the world of definite, commonplace things—but you must +not oppose your mother's Voices. They are as real to her as anything in +this universe. I've <i>proved</i> their reality again and again. As I say, +they have advised me in my investments and always right. In a sense—in +a very real sense—I owe a part of my wealth to your mother, and the +little that she has permitted me to do in return for her aid is +trifling. I want to do more. Please be just to your dear little mother, +who is truly a marvelous creature and loves you beyond all other earthly +things. She lives only for you. If it were not for you she would pass on +to the spirit plane to-night."</p> + +<p>Victor listened to her in a sullen meditation. The whole situation was +becoming incredibly fantastic, vaporous as the texture of a dream.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce went on: "Come to my house to-night for dinner. Never mind +the morrow till the morrow comes. Come and talk with some friends of +mine—they may help you."</p> + +<p>He spoke thickly: "I'm much obliged, Mrs. Joyce. I'm grateful for what +you've done for us, but to take her money or yours now would be—would +be dishonest. I can't let you feed us any longer—we've got to fight +this out alone."</p> + +<p>"What will you do with her Voices?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Forget 'em," he answered, curtly.</p> + +<p>"They'll force you to remember them," she warningly retorted. "I assure +you they hold your fate in their hands."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee, returning, cut short the discussion, which was growing +heated.</p> + +<p>As he drank his coffee Victor recovered a part of his native courtesy. +"I'm going to win out," he said, with kindling eyes. "It would have been +a wonder if I had found a job the first day. I'm going to keep going +till I wear out my shoes."</p> + +<p>A knock at the door made his mother start.</p> + +<p>"Another reporter!" she whispered. "They're pestering me still."</p> + +<p>Victor rose with a spring. "I'll attend to this reporter business," he +said, hotly.</p> + +<p>"No," interposed Mrs. Joyce; "let me go, please!"</p> + +<p>He submitted, and she went to meet the intruder. Her quiet, +authoritative voice could be heard saying: "Mrs. Ollnee is not able to +see any one. That cruel and false article of yesterday has completely +upset her.—No, I am only her friend and nurse. I have nothing to say +except that the article in the <i>Star</i> was false and malignant."</p> + +<p>Thereupon she closed and locked the door and came back quite serious. +"They've been coming almost every hour, determined to see your mother. I +would have taken her away, only she persisted in saying she must remain +here till you returned."</p> + +<p>"Have you been here all day?" he asked, moved by the thought of her +loyalty.</p> + +<p>His mother answered. "Louise came about ten this morning—and except for +an hour at lunch we've both been here waiting, listening."</p> + +<p>This devotion on the part of a rich and busy woman was deeply revealing. +The youth was being educated swiftly into new conceptions of human +nature. His mother was neither beautiful nor wise nor witty. Why should +she attract and hold a lady like Mrs. Joyce? He wondered if she had been +quite honest with him. Would her interest be the same if The Voices had +not enriched her?</p> + +<p>She returned to her invitations. "Now put on your dinner-suit and come +with us," she insisted. "My niece, Leo, will be there—surely you will +respond to that lure?"</p> + +<p>His mother laid her small hand upon his arm. "Let us go, Victor. I am in +terror here."</p> + +<p>"Why did you stay? Why didn't you go before?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Because The Voices said '<i>Wait!</i>'—and besides, I wanted to be here +when you came."</p> + +<p>He rose. "You go. I will come after dinner and bring you home."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce was quick on the trail of his intent. "You refuse to eat my +bread! You <i>are</i> rigorous. Very well. Let it be so. Come, Lucy, let us +go."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee seemed to listen a moment, then rose. "You'll surely come +after dinner, Victor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'll come about nine," he replied, in a tone that was hard and +cold. And she went away deeply hurt.</p> + +<p>Left alone, he walked about the "ghost-room" with bitterness deepening +into fury. What were these invisible, intangible barriers which confined +him? He stood beside the old brown table which he had hated and feared +in his boyhood. What silliness it represented. The pile of slates, some +of them still bearing messages in pencil or colored crayon, offered +themselves to his hand. He took up one of these and read its oracular +statement: "<i>He will come to see the glory of the faith. His neck will +bow. It is discipline. Do not worry. FATHER.</i>" Here was the source of +his troubles!</p> + +<p>He dashed the slate to the floor and ground it under his heel. Catching +the table by the side and up-ending it, he wrenched its legs off as he +would have wrung the neck of a vulture. He breathed upon it a blast of +contempt and hate, and, gathering it up in fragments, was starting to +throw it into the alley when the door burst open and his mother +reappeared, white, breathless, appalled.</p> + +<p>"<i>Victor</i>; what are you doing?" she called, with piercing intonation.</p> + +<p>He was shaken by her tone, her manner, but he answered, "I'm going to +throw this accursed thing into the alley."</p> + +<p>She put herself before him with one hand pressed upon her bosom, her +breath weak and fluttering.</p> + +<p>"You—shall—not! You are killing me. Don't you see that is a part of +me. Don't you know—Put it down instantly! <i>My very life and soul are in +it.</i>"</p> + +<p>He dropped the broken thing in a disordered pile at her feet. Her +anguish, which seemed both physical and mental, stunned him. As they +stood thus confronting each other Mrs. Joyce returned. She seemed to +comprehend the situation instantly, and, putting her arm about the +little psychic's waist, gently said, "You'd better lie down, Lucy, you +are hurt."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee permitted herself to be led to the little couch silently +sobbing.</p> + +<p>It was growing dusky in the room, and the youth, though still +rebellious, was profoundly affected by this action. His hot anger died +away and a swift repentance softened him. "Don't cry, mother," he said, +clumsily kneeling beside her. "I didn't think you cared so much about +the old thing."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce broke forth in scorn: "What a crude young barbarian you are! +That table is something more than a piece of wood to her. It is a +sacred altar. It is the place where the quick and the dead meet. It is +sentient with the touch of spirit hands—and you have desecrated it. You +have laid violent hands upon your mother's innermost heart. You will +destroy her if you keep on in this way."</p> + +<p>At these words the youth for the first time caught a glimpse of the +vital faith which lay behind and beneath these foolish and ridiculous +practices. No matter what that worn table was to him, it stood for his +mother's faith—that he now saw—and he was sorry.</p> + +<p>"I can rebuild it again," he said. "It is not hopelessly smashed. I will +repair it to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The symbolism which could be read in his words seemed to comfort his +mother and she grew quieter, but her face remained ghastly pale and her +breathing troubled.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce turned to him again. "You can't deceive her. She knew the +instant you laid your destroying hands on that slate."</p> + +<p>He did not doubt this. In some hidden way his action had reached and +acted upon his mother as she was speeding down the avenue. Her sudden +return proved this—and his hair rose at the thought of her +clairvoyancy, and in answer to Mrs. Joyce's question, "Why did you do +it?" he replied, sullenly, but not bitterly:</p> + +<p>"I did it because I detest the thing and all that goes with it. I have +hated that table all my life."</p> + +<p>"What did you think your mother would do?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't stop to think. I only wanted to get the brute out of sight. I +wanted to end the whole trade at once."</p> + +<p>"You've got to be careful or you'll end your mother's earth-life. Let me +tell you, boy, if you want to keep her on this plane with you you must +be gentle with her. Any shock, especially when she is in trance, is very +dangerous to her."</p> + +<p>Victor began to feel his helplessness in the midst of the intangible +entangling threads of his mother's faith. He now saw the folly of his +action, and took an unexpected way of showing his contrition.</p> + +<p>"If you'll forgive me, mother, I'll go with you to Mrs. Joyce's dinner. +Come, let's get away from here for a little while; I feel stifled."</p> + +<p>This pleased and comforted her amazingly. She rose and placed one frail, +cold hand about his neck. "Dear boy! I forgive you. You didn't realize +what you were doing."</p> + +<p>Releasing himself he gathered up the fragments of the table and tenderly +examined them. "It can be mended," he reported. "I'll do it the first +thing in the morning."</p> + +<p>A faint smile came back to his mother's face. "I don't mind, Victor. I +feel already that this has brought us closer together. Your father is +here—he is smiling—and I am happier than I've been for weeks."</p> + +<p>Victor dressed for his party with trembling limbs. It seemed as if he +had passed through a tremendous battle wherein he had been defeated—and +yet his heart was strangely light.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2> + +<h3>VICTOR RECEIVES A WARNING</h3> + + +<p>Mrs. Joyce's house was a stone structure of rather characterless design +which stood at the intersection of a wide boulevard and one of the +narrower crosstown streets, but it seemed very palatial to Victor as he +wonderingly entered its looming granite portal. His mother tripped up +the stairs with the air of one who feels very much at home.</p> + +<p>A man in snuff-colored livery took his hat and coat and ushered him into +a large reception-room on the left, and there his hostess found him some +ten minutes later. "Come and meet my brother from California," she said, +and led the way across the hall into the library, where a tall man with +gray hair and mustache was talking with a dark, alert and smoothly +shaven man of middle age. The one Mrs. Joyce introduced as her brother, +Mr. Wood, and the other as Mr. Carew.</p> + +<p>Victor was relieved to have Miss Wood enter and greet him cordially, for +the men did not seem to value him sufficiently to include him in their +conversation. Mr. Wood was reserved and the tone of Carew's voice was +cynical.</p> + +<p>Leonora Wood was of that severe type of beauty which requires stately +gowns, and Victor confessed that she was quite the finest figure of a +girl he had ever met, but when Mrs. Joyce said, "You are to take Leo out +to dinner" he merely bowed, resenting her amused smile.</p> + +<p>His seat at table brought him next a very old lady—Mrs. Wood, +senior—who beamed upon him with cheerful interest. There were several +other women of that vague middle age which does not interest youth.</p> + +<p>Miss Wood talked extremely well, and he became interested in spite of +himself.</p> + +<p>"I wonder how much longer we're going to believe in 'luck' and +'coincidence,'" she said, after some remark of his. "Maybe it's all +thought transference or telepathy or something."</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me you really believe in such things. Professor Boyden says +they are all a part of the spineless mysticism which is sweeping over +the country."</p> + +<p>She assumed a patronizing air. "It's natural for undergraduates to quote +their teachers. I wonder how long it will be before you will consider +them all old fogies."</p> + +<p>He rose to the defense of his hero. "Boyden will never be an old fogy. +He's the most up-to-date man in America. He really is the only +experimentalist along these lines. He's out for the facts."</p> + +<p>"Your mother's Voices say he is as blind as the rest, wilfully blind."</p> + +<p>"Do you really hold stock in my mother's Voices?"</p> + +<p>She gazed upon him in large-eyed wonder. "Yes, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"No. How can they be anything but a delusion?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I only know they are profoundly mysterious and that they +tell me things which convince me. They seem to know my most secret +thought. I have been <i>forced</i> to believe in them. My aunt's fortune has +been doubled and my own income greatly augmented by their advice."</p> + +<p>He took this up. "Tell me more about that. What did they advise you to +do?"</p> + +<p>"They advised buying certain stocks in a machine for making paper boxes +and recommended the Universal Traction Company."</p> + +<p>At this moment Mrs. Wood, senior, plucked at his sleeve. "Louise tells +me you're the son of our dear medium, Lucy Ollnee."</p> + +<p>"I am, yes," he replied, rather ungraciously, for he was eager to revert +to Leo.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you're a medium yourself," the old lady pursued.</p> + +<p>"Thank the Lord, no! I haven't the ghost of a Voice about me."</p> + +<p>She chuckled. "At your age one thinks only of love and dollars. When you +are as old as I am the next world will interest you a great deal more +than it does now. Besides, you must believe in spirits after they have +made you rich. They've made Louise and Leo rich—I suppose you know +that?"</p> + +<p>He soon turned back to Leo. "I wish people would not talk my mother's +Voices to me. I hear nothing else now."</p> + +<p>"It's your mother's 'atmosphere.' No one thinks of anything else when in +her presence."</p> + +<p>"Don't you see how intolerable all that is going to be for me?" he +asked, with bitter gravity. "I can see that she isn't exactly human even +to you. She's just a sort of a freak. No one loves her or seeks her for +herself alone, only for what she can do. That's another reason why I +must insist on her getting away from this. I will not have her treated +like a wireless telephone."</p> + +<p>Her eyes expressed more sympathy than she put into her voice. "I see +what you mean; but, believe me, I had not thought of her in just that +light, and I think you're quite wrong about my aunt. She is really very +fond of your mother."</p> + +<p>He was eager to know more of what this clear-sighted girl had seen, but +her neighbor, Mr. Carew, claimed her, and he was forced back upon +Grandmother Wood, who talked of her new faith to him for nearly half an +hour.</p> + +<p>After dinner, while the ladies were in the drawing-room and the men were +smoking their cigars, the perturbed youth expected to be freed from any +further inquisition, for Philo Wood was apparently of that type of man +who has no interest in the things he cannot turn into hard cash. The +merits of a new strawboard box-machine was engaging his attention at +this time, but, after a few minutes of polite discussion of the weather +and other general topics, Carew, the lawyer, turned to Victor and began +an interrogation which made him wince. Carew was very nice about it, but +he pursued such a well-defined line of inquiry that it amounted to a +cross-examination. He soon possessed himself of the fact that Victor did +not approve of his mother's way of life and that he was trying to secure +employment in order to stop all further "fortune-telling" on his +mother's part. "I don't believe in it," he reiterated.</p> + +<p>"The amazing thing to me," interposed Wood, with quiet emphasis, "is +that her predictions come true. I 'play the ponies' a bit"—he +smiled—"and I have tried to draw Mrs. Ollnee into partnership with me. +'You have the spooks point out the winning horse to me,' said I to her, +'and I'll share the pot with you.'"</p> + +<p>"And she wouldn't do it?" asked Carew.</p> + +<p>Wood seemed to be highly amused. "No, she says her guides do not +sanction gambling of any sort. And yet she advises Louise to buy into a +new transportation scheme that looks to me like the worst kind of a +gamble. My advice counts for nothing against these Voices."</p> + +<p>"That's true," admitted Carew. "You might as well be the west wind so +far as influencing her goes. Since 'Mr. Astor' butted into the game my +services are good only in so far as they drive tandem with his! Now you +say you have no belief in the thing," he said, turning again to Victor. +"How is that? How did that come about?"</p> + +<p>"Well, in the first place, I've given some study to what Professor +Boyden calls delusional hysteria," Victor responded.</p> + +<p>Wood smiled cynically. "My sister won't mind what you call it so long as +it enables your mother to designate the winning stocks."</p> + +<p>The attitude of each of these men was that of watchful tolerance, and +Victor chafed under their assumption of superior wisdom. He plainly +perceived that Wood was using the psychic for his own ends, and this +angered him. He shut up like a clam and left the room as soon as he +could decently do so.</p> + +<p>He made his way to where Leonora was sitting on a sofa in the library +and took his seat beside her, with intent to continue the conversation +which they had begun at the dinner, but he forgot his problems as he +looked into her merry, candid eyes.</p> + +<p>Her first word was a compliment to his mother. "How pretty she looks +to-night! No one would suspect her of being 'the dark and subtle siren' +of yesterday's <i>Star</i>. Her face is positively angelic at this moment. +How beautiful she must have been as a girl! I must say you do not +resemble her."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said.</p> + +<p>She laughingly explained. "I mean you are so tall and dark. You must +resemble your father."</p> + +<p>"I believe I do, although I cannot remember him."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if he had your absurd pride. Aunt Louise tells me you +absolutely refuse to accept any favor from her, and that you were +practically forced into coming to dinner to-night. Is that true?"</p> + +<p>He leaned toward her with intense seriousness. "How would you feel if +you had suddenly learned that all your clothing, your food, your theater +tickets—everything had been paid for in money drawn from strangers by +means of—well—hypnotism."</p> + +<p>"If I believed that I should feel as you do, but I don't. It is not so +simple as all that. Your mother's power seems very real to me, and so +far as I can now see she has given us all value received for every +dollar. By rights one-half of all our profits belongs to her, or, if you +prefer, to her Voices. Do you know that these Voices will not permit her +to retain more than a scanty living out of all the wealth she makes for +others? Did you know that?"</p> + +<p>"I know she lives in a shabby apartment, and she tells me that she is +entirely under the control of these 'guides.'"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they refuse to let her keep anything beyond what she actually +needs for herself and your education. I think all that should be counted +in on her side, don't you? The fact that she is not enriching herself +surely makes her part in the transaction a clean one."</p> + +<p>He sank away from her and brooded over this thought for a minute or two +before he replied. "But the whole thing is so preposterous. Have you +seen her slate-writing 'stunt'?"</p> + +<p>"Many times; but I don't think you should call it a 'stunt.'"</p> + +<p>"Come, now, give me your honest opinion. Do you think my mother +unconsciously cheats?"</p> + +<p>She faced him with convincing candor. "No, I don't. I think she is +perfectly simple and straightforward, and I believe the writing is +supernormal."</p> + +<p>"How can you believe that? You're a college girl, mother tells me. Don't +the belief in these things wipe out everything you have been taught at +school? It certainly rips science into strips for me, or would—if I +believed it. It makes a fool of a man like Boyden, that's a sure thing."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce, looking across the room, smiled in delight at the charming +picture these young people made in their animated conversation. +Doubtless they were glowing over Tennyson's position in modern poetry or +the question of Meredith's ultimate standing in fiction.</p> + +<p>What the youth was really saying to the maid was this: "What did you get +out of it all? What did The Voices give you?"</p> + +<p>"They told me to study composition, for one thing. They told me I would +compose successful songs, with the aid of—of Schubert." She was a +little embarrassed at the end.</p> + +<p>"And you took all that in?"</p> + +<p>She colored. "I'm afraid I didn't really believe the Schubert part. +However, I'm studying composition on the <i>chance</i> of their being right."</p> + +<p>"You say they advise you on money matters. How do they do that?"</p> + +<p>"They advise my uncle through me to sell stock in a certain company and +buy in another. They told me to withdraw my money from my California +bank and put it into this Universal Traction Company."</p> + +<p>"Did you do that?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry. I wish you wouldn't take their advice. I wish you would put +your money back where it came from at once."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because it scares me to think of your going into anything on my +mother's advice."</p> + +<p>"But it wasn't your mother's advice. It was the advice of a great +financier."</p> + +<p>"You mean a dead financier?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>He did not laugh at this; on the contrary, his face darkened. "I've +heard about that. Did he advise your uncle to go into this same +transportation company?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; all our friends are in it."</p> + +<p>"You mean everybody that went to my mother for advice?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Do many go to her for help of this kind?"</p> + +<p>"No, not many; she gives sittings only to my aunt and her friends now. +There were several big business men of the city who went regularly. Why, +Mr. Pettus, the president of the Traction Company, relies upon her."</p> + +<p>The absurdity of these great capitalists going to his mother's +threadbare little apartment for counsel in ways to win millions made +Victor smile. He said, with a mock sigh, "I wish these Voices would tell +me where to find a job that would pay fifteen dollars a week."</p> + +<p>"They will—if you give yourself up to them. You must have faith."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but the whole thing is dotty. Why should a poor farmer like my +grandfather by just merely dying become a great financier?" Again his +brow darkened and his voice deepened with contempt. "It's all poppycock! +If he knows so much about the future why didn't he warn my mother +against that reporter that came in the other day to do her up? Why +didn't he permit me to stay on at Winona and get my degree?"</p> + +<p>The girl was troubled by his questions and evaded them. "It must have +been hard to leave in the midst of your final term."</p> + +<p>"It was punishing. It was like being yanked out of the box in the middle +of an inning, with the game all coming your way."</p> + +<p>She knew enough of baseball slang to catch his meaning and she smiled as +she asked, "Why don't you go back?"</p> + +<p>"Simply because I couldn't stand the chinning I'd get from my +classmates."</p> + +<p>"Can't you go on with your studies here and pass your examination?"</p> + +<p>"I might do that if I could get a job that would pay me my board and +leave me a little time to study."</p> + +<p>She looked up at him with smiling archness. "Why not drive an +automobile? You could carry your books around under the seat and study +while waiting outside the shops or the theaters."</p> + +<p>"Good idea!" he exclaimed, responding to her humor. "I'm pretty handy +with the machine. One of my friends up at Winona had one. I hope you own +a car." He said this with intent to indicate his growing desire to be +near her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce came over at this moment to inquire what they were so jolly +about.</p> + +<p>Leo answered: "I was just suggesting that Mr. Ollnee become a chauffeur. +He could go on with his studies—"</p> + +<p>"Capital!" exclaimed Mr. Joyce. "The man I have is liable to drink and +very crusty in the bargain. You may have his place."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I wouldn't do," he responded. "I might get crusty, too."</p> + +<p>"I hope you are not liable to drink," said Leo.</p> + +<p>"No, sarsaparilla is my only tipple. But this is all Miss Wood's joke," +he explained.</p> + +<p>"I'm not joking, indeed I'm not," the girl retorted. "I don't know of +any skill that is more in demand just now than that of a chauffeur. I +know of one who is studying the piano. I don't see any reason why Mr. +Ollnee should not take it up temporarily. It's perfectly honorable. +Witness Bernard Shaw's play."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not looking down on any job just now," he disclaimed. "All I +ask is a chance to earn a living while I'm finding out what my best +points are."</p> + +<p>Mr. Wood beckoned and Leo rose to meet him. "We must be off," he said.</p> + +<p>Victor bade Leo good-night with such feeling of intimacy and +friendliness as he had not hoped to attain for any one connected with +Mrs. Joyce. There was something in the pressure of her hand and in the +sympathetic tone of her voice at the last that he remembered with keen +pleasure.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carew was deep in conversation with Mrs. Ollnee, and Victor drew +near with intent to know what was being said. The lawyer was very +gentle, very respectful, but Mrs. Ollnee was undergoing a thorough +investigation at his hands. He represented the calm, slow-spoken, but +very keen inquisitor, and the psychic was already feeling the force of +his delicate, yet penetrating sarcasm.</p> + +<p>"I would advise you not to trust your Voices in matters that relate to +life, limb, or fortune," he said, suavely, and a veiled threat ran +beneath his words. "These Voices may be deceiving you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee protested with vehemence. "Mr. Carew, I am content to put my +<i>soul</i> into their keeping."</p> + +<p>He bowed and smiled. "Your faith is very wonderful." Then he added, with +a glance at Mrs. Joyce, who was listening, "For myself, I would not put +my second-best coat in their keeping."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce intervened at this point, and, after some little discussion +of a conventional topic, offered to send Victor and his mother home in +her car. Victor was not pleased by her offer. It was only putting him +just that much deeper into her debt, but he could not well refuse, +especially as his mother accepted it as a matter of course.</p> + +<p>On the way he took up the question of Carew's warning. "He's right, +mother. You must stop advising people to buy or sell."</p> + +<p>"Why so, Victor?"</p> + +<p>"Suppose you should advise buying the wrong thing?"</p> + +<p>"But they don't advise the wrong thing, Victor. They are always right."</p> + +<p>"Always?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody has ever reported a failure," she declared.</p> + +<p>"Well, it's sure to come. Why should father or grandfather know any more +about stocks now than he did before he died?"</p> + +<p>She was a little nettled by his tone. "They have the constant advice of +a great financier on that side."</p> + +<p>"So Miss Wood told me. Who is this great financier who is so willing to +help you decide what to do with other people's money?" he asked, +cuttingly.</p> + +<p>She hesitated a little before saying "Commodore Vanderbilt."</p> + +<p>He could not keep back a derisive shout. "Vanderbilt! Well, and you +believe 'the great commodore' comes to our little hole of a home to +advise us? Oh, mother, that's too ridiculous."</p> + +<p>"My son," she began with some asperity, "we've been all over that ground +before. You don't realize how you hurt, how you dishonor me when you +doubt me and laugh at me."</p> + +<p>He felt the pain in her voice and began an apology. "I don't mean to +laugh at you, mother. But you must remember that I have been a student +for four years in the atmosphere of a great university, and all this +business—I've got to be honest with you—it's all raving madness to me. +You certainly must stop advising in business matters. Mr. Carew to-night +intended to give you warning."</p> + +<p>"I know he did," she quietly responded.</p> + +<p>"He meant to be kind. He meant to say that you were liable at any moment +to be held accountable for advice that went wrong. He told me that the +courts were full of cases where mediums had led people into willing +their property away, or where they had juggled with somebody else's +fortunes. He told me of having convicted one woman of this and of having +sent her to jail."</p> + +<p>"But have I prospered from these advices?" she asked, indignantly. "Can +any one accuse me of getting rich out of my 'work'? Please consider +that."</p> + +<p>"That does puzzle me. I can't see why 'they' help others and leave us +with a bare living. And, most important of all, why do 'they' permit you +to be hounded this way? Why didn't 'they' warn you? Why don't 'they' +help me?"</p> + +<p>She sighed submissively. "Of course they have their own reasons. In good +time all will be revealed to us. They are wiser than we, for all the +past and all the future are unrolled before their eyes."</p> + +<p>This reply silenced him. Small and gentle as she was, Victor realized +that she could resist with the strength of iron when it came to an +assault upon her faith.</p> + +<p>Above the knob of their own door they found a folded newspaper, and this +Victor seized with misgiving. "I wonder what is coming next?" he said.</p> + +<p>She paled with a definite premonition of trouble. "Open it at once," she +commanded.</p> + +<p>He was as eager as she, for he, too, foresaw some new attack upon their +peace. Lighting the gas, he opened the paper with trembling hands. On +the first page was his own photograph and the story of his leaving +college to defend his mother. Everything, even to the parting with +Frenson, was set down, luridly, side by side with the report of a +celebrated murder trial.</p> + +<p>At sight of this new indignity his sense of youth and weakness came back +upon him and, crumpling up the paper, he flung it upon the floor in +impotent rage.</p> + +<p>"That ends the fight here," he said. "How can I go about this town +seeking work to-morrow? Everybody will know my story, and, what's more, +here is your address given in full. Don't you see that makes it +impossible for either of us to remain here another day?"</p> + +<p>For the first time in her life the indomitable little psychic quailed +before the persistent malice of her foes. The splintered altar of her +faith lying in a disordered heap upon the floor symbolized the +estrangement which she felt between her invisible guides, her son, and +herself. Her maternal anxiety had developed swiftly in these few hours +of blissful companionship, and the world of wealth and comfort—for her +boy's sake—had become suddenly of enormous importance to her. She +wished him to be a happy man, and this desire weakened her abstract +sense of duty to the race. She spoke aloud in a tone of entreaty, +addressing herself to the intangible essences about her. "Father, are +you here? Speak to me, help me, I need you."</p> + +<p>Victor turned upon her with darkened brow. "Oh, for God's sake, stop +that! I don't want any advice from the air."</p> + +<p>She persisted. "Paul, come to me! Tell me what to do. Please come!"</p> + +<p>Her voice was thrilling with its weakness and appeal, but Victor was +furious. He refused to listen. His brow was set and stern.</p> + +<p>At last she cried out, poignantly, "They are not here. They have +deserted us. What shall I do?" She turned toward the table. "Rebuild my +altar. You said you would. Restore that and perhaps they will come to us +again. They are angry with me now. They have left me, perhaps forever."</p> + +<p>"If 'they' have I shall be glad of it," he returned, brutally. "'They' +have been a curse to you and to me, also. We are better off without +them. Come, let us pack up the few things we have and go away into the +West, where no one will know even so much as our name. That is the only +way left open for us."</p> + +<p>"No, no," she cried out, "that is impossible. I must remain here. I must +wait until they come back to me. I can't go now, and you must not desert +me," she ended, and in her voice was something very pitiful.</p> + +<p>He moved away from her and took his seat in sullen rage. For a long time +he did not even look at her, though he knew she was waiting and +listening.</p> + +<p>At last he rose, and his voice was harsh and hoarse. "Mother, my mind is +made up. There's no use talking against it. I leave this city to-morrow +morning. I shall go as far as my money will carry me. I shall change my +name and get rid of this whole accursed business. I've hated it, I've +hated your 'ghost-room' and your Voices all my life, and this is the end +of it for me. If you will not go with me then I must leave you behind."</p> + +<p>She uttered a moaning cry of grief and ran like one stricken into her +room, flinging herself face downward upon her bed. He listened for a few +moments with something tugging at his heart-strings, but his face was +set in unrelenting lines. Then he rose and set to work repacking his +trunk.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2> + +<h3>VICTOR IS CHECKED IN HIS FLIGHT</h3> + + +<p>When Victor woke from his uneasy sleep next morning his first glance was +toward his mother's room wherein he had seen her vanish in an agony of +grief and despair. All was quiet, and after dressing himself—still +firmly resolved upon flight—he went to the door and silently peered in.</p> + +<p>She was sleeping peacefully, her thin hands folded on her breast, and he +drew a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"I am glad she's able to sleep," he said, and stole back to the pantry.</p> + +<p>He studied its sparse supplies with care. There was not much to do with, +but he boiled some eggs and made coffee very quietly, with intent to let +his mother sleep as long as she could. He found himself less savage than +the night before.</p> + +<p>"I can't leave till she wakes," he said to himself, "but I'm going, all +the same."</p> + +<p>In order to pass the time of waiting he went down to the foot of the +stairs to find the morning paper. He opened it with apprehension, but +breathed a sigh of relief upon finding no further "scare heads" of +himself. The only reference to his mother came in the midst of an +editorial advocating the cleaning out of all the healers, palmists, +fortune-tellers, and mediums in the city. With lofty virtue the writer +went on to say that the <i>Star</i> had refused to advertise the business of +these people, no matter what the pecuniary reward, and that it purposed +a continuous campaign. "We intend to pursue all such women as Mrs. +Ollnee, who fasten upon their credulous dupes like leeches," he +declared.</p> + +<p>As Victor read this paragraph he caught again the violence of contrast +between the woman pictured by the pen of the editor and the pale, sweet, +mild-voiced little woman who was his mother. It would have been funny +had it not been so serious and so personal. Furthermore, the paragraph +strengthened him in his determination to leave the city, and he still +hoped to be able to persuade his mother to go with him.</p> + +<p>At eight o'clock he once more tiptoed in to see if she still slept, and +finding her in the same position his heart softened with pity. "She must +have been completely tired out, poor little mother! I'm afraid what I +said to her worried her."</p> + +<p>After another hour of impatient waiting he again entered her room and +studied her more intently. There was something suggestive of death in +the folded hands and he could detect no breathing. Her face was as pale +as that of a corpse, and his blood chilled a little as he approached +her. He called to her at last, but she did not stir.</p> + +<p>Stepping to her bedside, he laid his palm upon her wrist. It was cold as +ice, and he started back filled with fear. "Mother! <i>mother!</i> Are you +ill?" he called. She gave no sign of life.</p> + +<p>For a long time he stood there, rigid with fear, not knowing what to do. +He knew no one in all the city upon whom he could call save Mrs. Joyce +and Leo, and he did not know their street or number. He felt himself +utterly alone, helpless, ignorant as a babe, and in the presence of +death.</p> + +<p>Gradually his brain cleared. Sorrow overcame his instinctive awe of a +dead body. He felt once more the pulseless arm and studied closely the +rigid face. "She is gone!" he sobbingly cried, "and I was so cruel to +her last night!"</p> + +<p>The memory of his harsh voice, his brutal words, came back to plague +him, now that she was deaf to his remorse. How little, how gentle she +was, and how self-sacrificing she had been for him! "She burned out her +very soul for me," he acknowledged.</p> + +<p>He remained beside her thus till the sound of a crying babe on the floor +below suggested to him the presence of neighbors. Hastening down-stairs, +he knocked upon the first door he came to with frantic insistence.</p> + +<p>A slatternly young woman with a crown of flaming red-gold hair came to +the door. She smiled in greeting, but his first words startled her.</p> + +<p>"My mother is dead. Come up and help me. I don't know what to do."</p> + +<p>His tone carried conviction, and the girl did not hesitate a moment. She +turned and called: "Father, come here quick. Mrs. Ollnee is dead."</p> + +<p>An old man with weak eyes and a loose-hung mouth shuffled forward. To +him the girl explained: "This is Mrs. Ollnee's son. He says his mother +is dead. I'm going up there. You look out for the baby." She turned back +to Victor. "When did she die?"</p> + +<p>"I found her cold and still this morning."</p> + +<p>"Have you called a doctor?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't know of any to call."</p> + +<p>"Jimmie!" she shrieked.</p> + +<p>A boy's voice answered, "What ye want, maw?"</p> + +<p>"Jimmie, you hustle into your clothes and run down the street to Doctor +Sill's office and tell him to come up here right away. Hurry now!"</p> + +<p>Closing the door behind her, she started resolutely up the stairway, and +her action gave Victor a grateful sense of relief.</p> + +<p>"What do you think ailed her?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. She seemed all right last night when I went to bed."</p> + +<p>This woman, young in years, was old in experience, that was evident, for +she proceeded unhesitatingly to the silent bedside with that courage to +meet death which seems native to all women. She, too, listened and felt +for signs of life and found none. "I reckon you're right," she said, +quietly. "She's cold as a stone."</p> + +<p>At her words the strong young fellow gave way. He turned his face to the +wall, sobbing, tortured by the thought that his bitter and savage +assault and expressed resolve to leave her had been the cause of his +mother's death. "What can I do?" he asked, when he was able to speak. "I +must do something—she was so good to me."</p> + +<p>The young woman, looking upon him with large tolerance and a certain +measure of admiration, replied: "There's nothing to do now but wait for +the doctor. You'd better come down with me and have some coffee."</p> + +<p>He did not feel in the least like eating or drinking, but he needed +human companionship. Therefore he followed his neighbor down the stairs +and into her cluttered little living-room with submissive gratitude. The +home was slovenly, but it was glorified by kindliness. A tousled baby of +eighteen months was keeping the old man busy and a small boy of eight or +nine was struggling into his knickerbockers, and Victor, thrust into the +midst of this hearty, dirty, noisy household, remembered with increasing +respect his mother's dainty housekeeping. "She was a lady," he said to +himself, in definition of the difference between her apartment and this. +"Her home was poor, but it was never ratty."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bowers was kindness and consideration itself. Her father, deaf and +partly paralytic, was treated gently, although he was irritatingly slow +of comprehension and insisted on knowing all about what had taken place +up-stairs. It pained and disgusted Victor inexpressibly to have his +mother's condition bawled into the old man's ears, but he could not +reasonably interfere.</p> + +<p>He thought of Mrs. Joyce, knowing that his mother would want to have her +instantly informed. "I ought to telephone some friends," he said to Mrs. +Bowers. "Where is the nearest 'phone?"</p> + +<p>She told him, and he went out and down the steps in haste to let Mrs. +Joyce know of his tragic bereavement, and when at the drug-store near by +he finally succeeded in getting communication with the house he was +deeply disappointed to be told by the butler that Mrs. Joyce was not +down and could not be disturbed so early in the morning.</p> + +<p>"But I <i>must</i> see her," he insisted. "My mother, Mrs. Ollnee, her +friend, is—is—very sick. I am Victor, her son, and I'm sure Mrs. Joyce +would want to speak to me."</p> + +<p>The butler's voice changed. "Oh, very well, Mr. Ollnee," he replied, +knowing the intimacy which existed between his mistress and the +psychic. "Just hold the line; I'll call her."</p> + +<p>It was a long time before the calm, cultivated voice of Mrs. Joyce came +over the 'phone, but it was worth the waiting for. "Who is it?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Joyce, this is Victor Ollnee. My mother is very, very ill. I'm +afraid she's dead."</p> + +<p>He heard her gasp of pain and surprise as she called: "Your mother! Why +she seemed perfectly well last night."</p> + +<p>"I found her lying cold and still this morning. I can't detect any pulse +or any breathing. Can't you come over at once? Please do. I don't know a +soul in the city but you, and I'm in great trouble."</p> + +<p>"You poor boy! Of course I'll come. I'll be over instantly. Have you +called a doctor?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't know of any."</p> + +<p>"Where are you now?"</p> + +<p>"At the corner drug-store."</p> + +<p>"Is any one with your mother?"</p> + +<p>"No, but the woman below has been up. She is quite sure my mother is +dead."</p> + +<p>"Gracious heavens! I can't realize it. Good-by for a few minutes. I'll +come at once."</p> + +<p>Victor returned to Mrs. Bowers' apartment with a glow of grateful +affection for Mrs. Joyce. It was wonderful what comfort and security +came to him with her voice so sincerely filled with compassion and +desire to help. He wondered if Leo would come with her, and asked +himself how the news of his bereavement would affect her. Her attitude +toward him had been that of the elder sister who felt herself also to be +the wiser, but he did not resent that now.</p> + +<p>He thought of the effect of his mother's death upon the press. Would the +<i>Star</i> forego its malignant assault upon her character now that she was +gone beyond its reach? Would those who threatened her with arrest be +remorseful?</p> + +<p>Mrs. Bowers persuaded him to take another cup of hot coffee, and then +together they returned to the little apartment above to wait for the +coming of the doctor and Mrs. Joyce. The young mother became +philosophical at once. "After a body gets to be forty I tell you he +don't know what's going to happen next. I reckon you better set here +where you can't see the bed," she added, kindly. "It don't do any good, +and it only makes you grieve the harder."</p> + +<p>He obeyed her like a child and listened through his mist of tears as she +rambled on. "I've had my share of trouble," she explained. "First my +mother went, then my oldest boy, then my husband took sick. Yes, a body +has to face trouble about so often, anyway, and, besides, I don't +suppose your mother was afraid of death, anyhow. I've known all along +what her business was, ever since I came into the house, and I've been +up to see her a few times. Still I'm not much of a believer. Dad is, +though. It's his greatest affliction that he can't hear The Voices any +more. I want to say I believe in your mother. She was a mighty fine +woman; but the docterin of spiritualism I never could swaller, +notwithstanding I grew up 'longside of it."</p> + +<p>The sound of a decisive step on the stairs cut her short. "I bet a +cookie that's the doctor!"</p> + +<p>A clear, crisp, incisive voice responded to her greeting at the door, +and a moment later a beardless, rather fat young fellow was confronting +Victor with professional, smiling eyes. "You're not the patient," he +stated, rather than asked. Victor shook his head and pointed to the bed.</p> + +<p>With quick step the physician entered the bedroom and set to work upon +the motionless form with methodical haste. He was still busy in this way +when the whir of a motor car announced Mrs. Joyce.</p> + +<p>Victor was at the door to meet her, and when she saw him she opened her +arms and took him to her broad, maternal bosom. "You poor boy!" she +said, patting his shoulder. "You're having more than your share of +trouble."</p> + +<p>He frankly sobbed out his penitence and grief. "Oh, Mrs. Joyce! She's +gone, and I was so hard last night. I'll never forgive myself for what I +said to her."</p> + +<p>She again patted him on the shoulder with intent to comfort him. "There, +there! I don't believe you have anything to reproach yourself for, and, +then, remember your mother's beautiful faith. She has not gone far away. +Her heaven is not distant. She is very near. She has merely cast off the +garment we call flesh. She is here, close beside you, closer than ever +before, touching you, knowing what you think and feel."</p> + +<p>In this way she comforted him, and in a measure drew his mind away from +the memory of his cruel and unfilial words.</p> + +<p>Sill approached her with thoughtful glance. "Are you related to this +woman?"</p> + +<p>"No, I am only a friend," replied Mrs. Joyce; "but this is her son."</p> + +<p>"When did you discover your mother's present condition?"</p> + +<p>"This morning."</p> + +<p>"Did you fold her hands and put her in the position she occupies?"</p> + +<p>"No, that is the strange thing. When I left her last night she was—she +was lying across the bed, face downward. I had just told her that I was +going away and that I wanted her to go with me. She refused to do this +and tried to get The Voices to speak to her. They would not come, and so +she, being hurt, I suppose, by what I said, ran into the room and flung +herself down on the bed, weeping. I was angry at her and did not speak +to her again. I went to sleep out here on the couch, and did not see her +again till morning. When I looked in at eight o'clock she was lying just +as she is now."</p> + +<p>Sill eyed him keenly. "Do you mean that you quarreled?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce interposed. "I can explain that," she said. "Mrs. Ollnee was +my friend. She was what is called a medium. She is the Mrs. Ollnee you +may have read about in the papers."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" Sill's tone conveyed a mingling of surprise and increased +interest. "So you are the son of Mrs. Ollnee?" he said, turning to +Victor.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce again answered for him. "Yes; he has been away at school; he +came home Sunday to comfort and protect his mother; but, unfortunately, +he does not accept her faith. He rebelled against her work, and demanded +that she give up her Voices. I can understand his wanting her to go away +with him, and I can understand also how painful it was to her; but I +don't believe that what he said had anything to do with her passing out. +She was very frail at best, and has many times said that she expected to +leave the body in one of her trances and never again resume her worn-out +garment."</p> + +<p>"She was subject to trances, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, though not strictly a trance-medium, she did occasionally pass out +of the body."</p> + +<p>"May I take your name?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; I am Mrs. John H. Joyce, of Prairie Avenue."</p> + +<p>His manner changed. "Oh yes. I should have known you, Mrs. Joyce, I have +seen you before. What you tell me does not explain the disposal of Mrs. +Ollnee's body. She must have gone to her death consciously, as if +preparing to sleep. Perhaps she intended only to enter a trance."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce started. "She may be in trance now! Have you thought of that, +Doctor?"</p> + +<p>Victor's heart bounded at the suggestion. "Do you think it possible?" he +asked, excitedly.</p> + +<p>Sill remained unmoved. "She does not respond to any test, I'm sorry to +say. Life is extinct."</p> + +<p>The entrance of Doctor Eberly, a tall, stooping man with deep-set eyes +and a sad, worn face, cut short this explanation. Eberly was Mrs. +Joyce's family physician, and taking him aside she presented the case.</p> + +<p>Eberly knew Doctor Sill, and together they returned to Mrs. Ollnee's +bedside while Mrs. Joyce kept Victor as far away from their examination +as possible.</p> + +<p>"There have been many cases of this deep trance, Victor, and we must not +permit the coroner to come till we are absolutely convinced that your +mother has gone out never to return."</p> + +<p>"She must come back," he cried, huskily. "She did so much for me. I want +to do something for her."</p> + +<p>"You did a great deal for her, my dear boy. It was a great joy and +comfort to her to see you growing into manhood. She was a little afraid +of you, but she worshiped you all the same. Your letters were an ecstasy +to her."</p> + +<p>"And I wrote so seldom," he groaned. "I was so busy with my games, my +studies, I hardly thought of her. If she will only come back to me I +will give up everything for her."</p> + +<p>"She understood you, Victor. She was a wonderful little woman, lovely in +her serene, high thought. She lived on a lofty plane."</p> + +<p>"I begin to see that," he answered, contritely. "I understand her better +now."</p> + +<p>The kindly Mrs. Bowers had slipped away back to her household below, and +the men of science were still deep in a low-toned, deliberate +discussion, so that Victor and the woman he now knew to be his best +friend were left to confront each other in mutual study. He was +wondering at her interest in him, and she was weighing his grief and +remorse, thinking enviously of his youth and bodily perfection. "I wish +you were my son," she uttered, wistfully.</p> + +<p>Doctor Eberly again approached, walking in that quaint, sidewise fashion +which had made him the subject of jocose remark among his pupils at the +medical school.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce was instant in inquiry. "How is she, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Life is extinct," he replied, with fateful precision.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"Reasonably so. One is never sure of anything that concerns the human +organism," he replied, wearily.</p> + +<p>She warned him: "You must remember she was accustomed to these trances."</p> + +<p>"So I understand. Nevertheless, this is something more than trance. So +far as I can determine, this body is without a tenant."</p> + +<p>"The tenant may come back," she insisted.</p> + +<p>He looked away. "I know your faith, but I am quite sure all is over. +<i>Rigor mortis</i> has set in."</p> + +<p>She rose emphatically. "I have a feeling that you are both mistaken. Let +me see her. Come, Victor, why do you shrink? It is but her garment lying +there."</p> + +<p>She led the way to the bedside and laid her warm, plump hands on the +pale, thin, cold, and rigid fingers of her friend. She stooped and +peered into the sightless visage. "Lucy, are you present? Can you see +me?"</p> + +<p>Doctor Sill then said: "The eyes alone puzzle me. The pupils are not +precisely—"</p> + +<p>"If there is the slightest doubt—" Mrs. Joyce began.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I didn't mean to convey that, Mrs. Joyce. I was merely giving you +the exact point—"</p> + +<p>"She shall lie precisely as she is till to-morrow," announced Mrs. +Joyce, firmly. "I have an 'impression' that she wishes to have it so. +Will you permit this?" She confronted the two physicians. "Will you wait +till to-morrow before reporting?"</p> + +<p>Doctor Eberly considered a moment. "If you insist, Mrs. Joyce, and if it +is Mr. Ollnee's wish—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes," Victor cried, "I've heard of people being buried alive. It +is too horrible to think about! Leave us alone till to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The physicians conferred apart, and at last Eberly turned to say: "It +seems to us a perfectly harmless concession. We will not report the case +till to-morrow. Doctor Sill will call in the morning and decide what +further course to take."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," repeated Mrs. Joyce.</p> + +<p>After the doctors had gone she turned to Victor, saying: "There is +nothing for us to do now but to wait. If Lucy has gone out of her body +forever she will manifest to us here in some familiar way. If she +intends to return she will revive the body and speak from it sometime +between now and dawn."</p> + +<p>"She seems to sleep," he said; and now that his awe and terror were +lessened by his hope, he was able to study her face more exactly. "How +peaceful she seems—and how little she is!"</p> + +<p>"A great soul in a dainty envelope," Mrs. Joyce replied. "Would you mind +taking my car and going to my home to tell Leonora where I am? I wish +also you would bring Mrs. Post, my seamstress, back with you. She's a +good, strong, kindly soul and will be most helpful to-day."</p> + +<p>He consented readily and went away in the car, with the bright spring +sunlight flooding the world, feeling himself snared in an invisible +net. All thought of leaving the city passed out of his mind. He thought +only of his mother and of her possible revivification. "I will fight the +world here if only she will return," he said.</p> + +<p>It seemed years since the ball game of Saturday wherein he had taken +such joyous and honorable part. At that time his universe held no +sorrow, no care, no uncertainty. Now here he sat, plunged deep in +mystery and confusion, face to face with death, penniless, beleaguered, +and alone.</p> + +<p>"What would I do without Mrs. Joyce?" he asked himself. "She is a +wonderful woman." Strange that in a single hour he should come to lean +upon her as upon an elder sister.</p> + +<p>He suddenly remembered that she had probably come away from home without +her breakfast, and that she would find not so much as a crust of bread +in his mother's kitchen, and the thought made him flush with shame. +"What a selfish fool I am," he said, and seized the speaking-tube with +intent to order the chauffeur to turn, but, reflecting that it would +take only a few minutes longer to go on, he dropped the mouth-piece and +the machine whirled steadily forward.</p> + +<p>As he ran up the wide steps Leonora opened the door for him, looking +very alert and capable, her face full of wonder and question. "How is +your mother?" she quickly, tenderly, asked.</p> + +<p>He choked in his reply. "The doctors say she is—dead, but your aunt +insists that it is only a trance." He turned away to hide his tears. "I +am hoping she's right, but I'm afraid that the doctors—"</p> + +<p>"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, her voice tremulous with +sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, if you will please send Mrs. Post, the seamstress, over with me. +We have no one in the house, and Mrs. Joyce needs help."</p> + +<p>"I will go, too," she responded, quickly. "Please be seated while I call +Mrs. Post. Have you had breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but Mrs. Joyce has not, and I'm afraid there isn't a thing in our +house to eat."</p> + +<p>"I'll take something over," she replied, and hastened away.</p> + +<p>He did not sit, he could not even compose himself to stand, but walked +up and down the hall like a leopard in its cage. Now and again a +liveried servant passed, glancing at him curiously, but he did not mind. +Mingled with other whirling emotions was a feeling of gratitude toward +Leonora, whose air of conscious superiority had given place, for the +moment, to exquisite gentleness and pity. She soon had the seamstress +and some lunch bestowed in the car. "We are ready, Mr. Ollnee," she +called.</p> + +<p>She said very little during their ride. Occasionally she made some +remark of general significance, or spoke to Mrs. Post upon the duties +which she might expect to meet, and for this reserve Victor was +grateful. She understood him through all his worry. Though he did not +directly study her, he was acutely conscious of her every movement. Her +unruffled precision of action, her calmness, her consideration for his +grief appealed to him as something very womanly and sweet.</p> + +<p>His mother's neighbors had been aroused to a staring heat of interest, +and from almost every window curious faces peered. Victor perceived and +resented their scrutiny, but Leonora seemed not to mind. She alighted +calmly and carried the basket of lunch in her own hands to the stairway, +though she permitted Victor to lead the way.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce met them with a grave smile. "You are prompt. I am glad to +see you, Leo, and you, too, Mrs. Post. We have a long watch before us."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>It was a singular and absorbing vigil to which Victor and the three +women now set themselves. While Greek and Italian hucksters lamentably +howled through the alleys and the milk-wagons and grocers' carts +clattered up the streets, they waited upon the invisible and listened +for the inaudible—so thin is the line between the prosaic and the +mystic!</p> + +<p>Each minute snap or crackle in the woodwork was to Mrs. Joyce a sign +that the translated spirit was struggling to manifest itself; but the +seamstress, stolid with years of toil and trouble, sat beside the bed +with calm gaze fixed upon the small, clear-cut face half hid in the +pillows, as if it mattered very little to her whether she watched with +the dead or sewed robes of velvet for the living. "It's all in the day's +work," she was accustomed to say.</p> + +<p>Leo, with intent to comfort Victor, told of several notable cases of +"suspension of animation" with which the literature of the Orient is +filled, and Victor took this to be, as she intended it to be, an attempt +to comfort and sustain.</p> + +<p>At times it seemed that he must be dreaming, so unreal was the scene and +so extraordinary was the composure of these women. They had the air of +those who await in infinite calm leisure the certain return of a friend. +Now and again Mrs. Joyce rose and looked down upon the motionless form, +and then perceiving no change resumed her seat. From time to time +intruders mounted the stairs, knocked, and, getting no reply, tramped +noisily down again.</p> + +<p>Victor was all for throwing things in their faces, but Mrs. Joyce +interposed. When he looked from the windows he saw grinning faces turned +upward, and waiting cameras could be seen on the walk opposite, ready to +snap every living thing that entered—or came from—the house. In truth, +Victor and his friends were enduring a state of siege.</p> + +<p>At last Mrs. Joyce said: "Nothing is gained by your staying here, +Victor. Why don't you go for a ride in the park? Leo, take him down to +the South Side Club."</p> + +<p>Victor protested. "I cannot go for a pleasure trip at such a time as +this. It is impossible!"</p> + +<p>She met him squarely. "Victor, death to me is merely a passing from one +plane to another. Besides, I don't think your mother has altogether left +us. But if she has, you can do no good by remaining here. Mrs. Post and +I are quite sufficient. It is a glorious spring day. I beg you to go out +and take the air. It will do you infinite good."</p> + +<p>"If there is nothing I can do here then I ought to resume my search for +work," he replied, sturdily. "Now that I cannot take my mother away with +me, there is nothing for me to do but to find employment here and face +our enemies as best I can."</p> + +<p>She opposed him there also. "Don't do that—not now. Wait. I have a +plan. I'll not go into it now, but when you come back, if there is no +change, we will all go home and I will explain."</p> + +<p>The young people had risen and were starting toward the door when an +imperative, long drawn-out rapping startled them.</p> + +<p>"That's no reporter's rap. There is authority in that," remarked Mrs. +Joyce, as she hurried to the door.</p> + +<p>A very tall man with a long gray beard stood there. "Good-day, madam," +he began, in a husky voice. "I hear that my friend, Mrs. Ollnee, is +sick, and I've come to see about it. I'm her friend these many years and +of her faith, and I think I can be of some assistance."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce dimly remembered having seen him in the house before, so she +replied, very civilly, "Mrs. Ollnee lies in what seems to be deep +trance, although the doctors say that life is extinct."</p> + +<p>"Will you let me see her?" he inquired. "I know a great deal about these +conditions. My daughter was subject to them."</p> + +<p>"You may come in," she said, for his manner was gentle. "This is her +son, Victor."</p> + +<p>Victor was vexed by the stranger's intrusion, but could not gainsay Mrs. +Joyce.</p> + +<p>"My name is Beebe, Doctor Beebe," he explained. "Mrs. Ollnee has given +me many a consoling message, and I believe I've been of help to her. +You're her son, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I am," replied Victor, shortly.</p> + +<p>"You were the vein of her heart," the old man solemnly assured him. "Her +guides were forever talking of you. And now may I see her?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce, after a moment's hesitation, led him to the door of the room +and stood aside for him to enter. After looking down into the silent +face for a long time he asked, in stately fashion, "May I make momentary +examination of the body?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce glanced at Victor. "I see no objection to your feeling for +her pulse or listening for her breath."</p> + +<p>"I wish to lift her eyelids," he explained.</p> + +<p>"You must not touch her!" Victor broke forth. "Two doctors have examined +her already. Why should you?"</p> + +<p>"Because I, too, am one of the mystic order. I am a healer. Life's +mysteries are as an open book to me."</p> + +<p>As he spoke a folded paper appeared to develop out of thin air above the +bed, and fell gently upon the coverlet.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce started. "Where did that come from?"</p> + +<p>The healer smiled. "From the fourth dimension." Calmly taking up the +folded paper, he opened it. "This is a message to you, young man."</p> + +<p>"To me?" Victor exclaimed. "From whom?"</p> + +<p>"It is signed 'Nelson.'"</p> + +<p>"Let me see it!" demanded Mrs. Joyce.</p> + +<p>"What does it say?" asked Victor.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce handed it to him. "Read it for yourself. It is from your +grandfather."</p> + +<p>He read: "<i>Your mother is with us, but she will return to you for a +little while. Her work is not yet ended. Your stubborn neck must bow. +There is a great mission for you, but you must acquire wisdom. Learn +that your plans are nothing, your strength puny, your pride pitiful. We +love you, but we must chastise you. Do not attempt to leave the city.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>NELSON.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>As he stood reading this letter it seemed to Victor that a cold wind +blew upon him from the direction of his mother's body, and his blood +chilled. "This is some of your jugglery," he said, turning angrily upon +Beebe.</p> + +<p>"I assure you, no," replied the healer, quietly. "It came from behind +the veil. It is a veritable message from the shadow world. I may have +had something to do with its precipitation, for I, too, am psychic, but +not in any material way did I aid the guide."</p> + +<p>The whole affair seemed to Victor a piece of chicanery on the part of +this intruder, and he bluntly said: "I wish you'd go. You can do no good +here. You have no business here."</p> + +<p>Beebe seemed not to take offense. "It's natural in you young fellows to +believe only in the world of business and pleasure, but you'll be taught +the pettiness and uselessness of all that. Your guides have a work for +you to do, and the sooner you surrender to their will the better. You +are fighting an invisible but overwhelming power."</p> + +<p>He addressed Mrs. Joyce. "This message is conclusive. Mrs. Ollnee, our +divine instrument, has not abandoned the body. Her spirit will return to +its envelope soon." He turned back to Victor. "As for you, young sir, +there is warfare and much sorrow before you. Good-day." And with lofty +wafture of the hand he took himself from the room.</p> + +<p>Not till he had passed entirely out of hearing did Victor speak, then he +burst forth. "The old fraud! I wonder how many more such visitors we are +to have? I wish we could take her away from this place."</p> + +<p>"We might take her to my house," said Mrs. Joyce, "but I would not dare +to do so without the consent of the doctors."</p> + +<p>"Did you see how that man produced that message?"</p> + +<p>Leo replied, "It developed right out of the air."</p> + +<p>"It was a direct materialization," confessed Mrs. Joyce. "My own feeling +is that your grandfather sent it to assure us of your mother's return."</p> + +<p>Victor silently confronted them, his anxiety lost in wonder. He had been +told spiritualists were an uneducated lot, and to have these cultured +and intelligent women calmly express their acceptance of a fact so +destructive of all the laws of matter as this folded note, blinded him. +He shifted the conversation. "Isn't it horrible that I should be here +without a dollar and without a single relative? I don't even know that I +have a relation in the world. My mother told me that she had a brother +somewhere in the West, but I don't think she ever gave me his address. +There must be aunts or uncles somewhere in the East, but I have never +heard from them. It seems as though she had kept me purposely ignorant +of her family. You've been very good and kind to me, Mrs. Joyce, but I +can't ask anything more of you. I can't ask you to stay here in this +gloomy little hole. Please go home. I'll fight it out here some way +alone."</p> + +<p>"My dear boy," said Mrs. Joyce, "I insist on staying. I cannot leave +Lucy in her present condition, and I refuse to leave you alone. She is +coming back to you soon, and then we will plan for the future. As for +the message, you will do well to take its word to heart. It is plainly a +warning that you must not leave the city."</p> + +<p>"But, Mrs. Joyce, think what it involves to believe that that letter +dropped out of the air!"</p> + +<p>"The world has grown very vast and very mysterious to me," she solemnly +responded. "I've had even more wonderful things than that take place in +my own home."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce saw that to go would be best, at least for the time, and +together she and Leo went down the stairway and out into the street, +leaving the stubborn youth to confront his problem alone with the +phlegmatic Mrs. Post.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2> + +<h3>THE RETURN OF THE SPIRIT</h3> + + +<p>Youth is surrounded by mystery—nothing but magic touches him; but it is +a beautiful, natural, hopeful magic. The mists of morning rise +unaccountably, the rains of autumn fall without cause. The lightning, +the snows, the grasses appear and vanish before the child's eyes like +magical conjurations, until at last, for the most part, he accepts these +miracles as commonplace because they happen regularly and often. In a +world that is incomprehensible to the greatest philosopher, the lad of +twenty comes and goes unmoved by the essential irresolvability of +matter.</p> + +<p>So it had been with Victor. Under instruction he had come to speak of +electricity as a fluid, of steel as a metal, as though calling them by +these names explained them. He discussed the ether, calmly considering +it a sort of finely attenuated jelly, something which quivered to every +blow and was capable of transmitting motion instantaneously. Sound, +heat, and light were modes of motion, he had been told, and these words +satisfied him. Food taken into the body produced power, and this power +was transmitted from the stomach to the brain, and from the brain to the +muscles, and so the limbs were moved. But just how the meat and potatoes +got finally from the brain to the nerves and so into the swing of a +baseball bat did not trouble him. Why should it?</p> + +<p>Life and age were mere words. Death he had heard described by clergymen +as something to be prepared for, a dark and dismal event reserved for +old people, but which did occasionally catch a man in his arrogant +youth, generally in the midst of his sins. Life meant having a good +time, a succeeding in sport, business, or love. Of course certain +philosophic phrases like "continuous adjustment of the organism to the +environment" and "the change of the organism from the simple to the +complex" had stuck in his mind. But any real thought as to what these +changes actually meant had been put aside quite properly, for the +pastimes and ambitions of the student to whom study is an incidental +price for a joyous hour at play.</p> + +<p>But now, here in this room, beside the motionless body of his mother, he +began to think. He had a good mind. His father had left him a rich +legacy in his splendid body, but also something mental—latent to this +hour—which produced an irritating impatience with the vague and the +mysterious. He resented the intrusion of an insoluble element into his +thinking. He was repelled by the discovery that his mother was abnormal, +and from the point of view of this "ghost-room" his life at the +university was becoming sweeter, more precious, more normal every hour.</p> + +<p>Then, too, his afternoon of reading at the library had put into his mind +several new and all-powerful conceptions which had germinated there like +the seeds which the Indian "adept" plants in pots of sand, rising, +burgeoning, blossoming on the instant. He knew the names of some of +those men whose words might be counted on the side of his mother's +endowment, for they were famous in physical or moral science, but he had +not known before that they admitted any real belief in the kind of +things which his mother professed to perform.</p> + +<p>The conception that the human soul was (as the ancients believed) a +ponderable, potent entity capable of separating itself from the body, +came to him with overwhelming significance. "If mother still lives," he +said to the nurse, "where is she? What form has she taken?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Post, in her own way, was capable of expressing herself. "She is +not there. So much we know. Her body is here. It is like a cloak which +she has thrown down. She herself is invisible, but she will return and +take up her body, and then you will see it grow warm again and her eyes +will light up like lamps, and she will rise and speak to you."</p> + +<p>Of course he did not believe this. That her body was a cast-off garment +was easy to comprehend, but that her spirit hovered near and would +re-enter its former habitation was incredible.</p> + +<p>All day he remained there, pacing to and fro, or sitting bent and somber +over his problem. At noon he got a little lunch for himself and for the +nurse. At two o'clock Mrs. Joyce returned to take him for a drive in her +car. But this he again refused. Thereupon she went away, promising to +look in again later in the evening.</p> + +<p>At dusk he stole down into the street to mail a letter to Frensen, +wherein he had written: "I am a good deal of a broken reed to-day, but I +am going to fight. I wish you were here to talk things over with me. I'm +surrounded by people who believe in the supernatural, and I need some +one like yourself to brace me up."</p> + +<p>This was true. He had been thrust into the midst of those who dwelt upon +the amazing and the inexplicable in human life. The city, which had been +to him so vast, so ugly, and so menacing in a material way, now became +mysterious in an entirely different way. He had now a sense of its +infinite drama, its network of purpose. There was some comfort, however, +in the thought that amid these swarms of people his own activities were +inconspicuous. To-morrow he and his mother would be forgotten in some +new sensation.</p> + +<p>The air was delicately fresh and wholesome, and the faces of the girls +he met had singular power to comfort him. The life of the city, sweeping +on multitudinously, refreshed him like the spray of a mighty torrent +foaming amid rocks and shadowed by lofty cañon walls. He returned to his +vigil stronger and better for this momentary communion with the crowd.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce came again at nine and insisted on remaining for the night. +She had quite thrown off her own gloom, being perfectly certain in her +own mind that Lucy Ollnee would return with a marvelous story of her +wanderings "on the other plane."</p> + +<p>She began to make plans for Victor, "subject," she said, "to revision by +your 'guides.'"</p> + +<p>"You've said that before," he retorted, "but I have no 'guides.' I don't +believe in 'guides,' and I don't intend to be ruled by a lot of spooks."</p> + +<p>"Be careful," she warned. "They know your every thought and they may +resent your attitude."</p> + +<p>"Well, let them! What do I care? Suppose, for argument's sake, that +these Voices <i>do</i> come from my father and my grandfather. What do they +know of this great city? They were country folks. How can they direct me +in what I am to do?"</p> + +<p>"They know a great deal better than any of us."</p> + +<p>"But how can they?"</p> + +<p>"Because they are free from the limitations of the flesh."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how that is going to help them. Their minds are just the +same as they were, aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed no! We grow inconceivably in knowledge and power to discern the +moment we drop the flesh."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why? If they are existing they're in a world so different +from this that their experience here won't help them over there, and +their experience over there is of no value to us here, and even if it +were, they could not express it."</p> + +<p>During their talk the night had deepened into darkness, and now, as they +reached a pause in their discussion, a measured rapping could be heard, +as though some one were striking with a small wand upon the brass rod of +the bed.</p> + +<p>Without knowing exactly why, a thrill very like fear passed over Victor, +but Mrs. Joyce smiled. "They are here! Don't you hear them? They want to +communicate with us."</p> + +<p>The youth's high heart sank. His boyish dread of darkness began to +people this death-chamber with monstrous shadows, with malignant forces. +He was very grateful for the presence of this cheery and undismayed +believer in the spirit world. Without her he would have been +panic-stricken.</p> + +<p>She rose to enter the bedroom, and he followed as far as the threshold.</p> + +<p>It was very dark in there, and for a moment he could see nothing, could +hear nothing. Then a faint whisper made itself distinctly audible just +above his head. "<i>Victor, my boy</i>," it said.</p> + +<p>He did not reply for a moment, and Mrs. Joyce eagerly called, "Did you +hear that whisper, Victor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I heard it," he replied.</p> + +<p>"It was Lucy. Was it you, Lucy?" asked Mrs. Joyce.</p> + +<p>"<i>Yes</i>," came the answer.</p> + +<p>"Are you still out of the body, Lucy?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Yes.</i>"</p> + +<p>"What shall we do?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Wait.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Is there anything you want to say to Victor?"</p> + +<p>"<i>No, not now. Father will speak.</i>"</p> + +<p>Silence again fell, and in this pause Mrs. Joyce took the chair which +stood close beside the bed and motioned Victor to another near the foot. +He sat with thrilling nerves, moved, trembling in spite of himself. The +room was now quite dark, save for a faint patch of light on the ceiling +and another on the carpet. His mother's body could not be distinguished +from the covering of the bed.</p> + +<p>As they waited, a singular, cold, and aromatic breeze began to blow over +the bed from the dark corner, and then a small, brilliant, bluish flame +arose near the sleeper's head, and, floating upward to the ceiling, +vanished silently. It was like the flame of a candle twisted and leaping +in a breeze.</p> + +<p>"The spirit light!" exclaimed Mrs. Joyce, ecstatically. "Wasn't it +beautiful? And see, there is a hand holding it!" she whispered, as +another flame arose. "Can't you see it?"</p> + +<p>"I see the light, but no hand," he replied.</p> + +<p>"I can see more. I see the dim form of an old man outlined on the wall. +It must be your grandsire, Nelson Blodgett. Am I right?" she asked, +apparently of the dark.</p> + +<p>Victor could now perceive a thin, bluish, wavering shape, like a cloud +of cigar smoke, and from this a whisper seemed to come, strong and +clear. "<i>Yes, I have come to speak to my grandson.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Don't you see him now?" asked Mrs. Joyce.</p> + +<p>"I see nothing," he repeated; and as he spoke the misty shape vanished.</p> + +<p>"But you heard the whisper, did you not?" Mrs. Joyce persisted.</p> + +<p>He did not reply to her, but rose and bent above his mother. "Mother, +did you speak?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce excitedly restrained him. "Sit down! You must not touch her +now."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is very dangerous while the spirits are using her +organism."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean!" he retorted, angrily. "I know that that +voice sounded exactly like my mother's voice, and I want to know—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Silence, foolish boy!</i>" was sternly breathed into his ear.</p> + +<p>A cloud passed over the sky, and as the room became perfectly black a +fluttering gray-blue cloud developed out of the darkest corner. It had +the movement of steam-wreaths, with each convolution faintly edged with +light. At one moment it resembled a handful of lines, fine as cobweb, +looping and waving, as if blown upward from below, and the next moment +it floated past like the folds of some exquisite drapery, lifting and +falling in gentle undulations. At last it rose to the height of a man, +drifted across the bed, and there hung poised over the head of the +sleeper. As it swung there for an instant Victor could plainly detect a +man's figure and face. His eyelids were closed and his features vague, +but his chin and the spread of his shoulders were clearly defined. "Who +are you?" Victor demanded, as if the apparition were an intruder.</p> + +<p>The answer came in a flat, toneless voice, neither male nor female in +quality. "<i>I am your father.</i>"</p> + +<p>Victor leaped up impulsively, his hair on end with fright, and the +apparition vanished precisely as though an open door had been closed +between it and the observer.</p> + +<p>Again Mrs. Joyce clutched him. "Be careful! Sit down; don't stir!"</p> + +<p>"Somebody is playing a joke on me," he insisted, hotly. "I'm going to +strike a light."</p> + +<p>Again a voice, this time almost full-toned, but with a metallic +accompaniment, as though it had passed through a horn, poured into his +ear, "<i>You shall bow to our wisdom.</i>"</p> + +<p>He braced himself to receive a blow, and answered through his set teeth: +"I will not. I am master of myself, and I don't intend to take orders +from you."</p> + +<p>"<i>You are fighting great powers. You will fail</i>," the voice replied. +"<i>Your heart is defiant. Expect punishment.</i>"</p> + +<p>Victor threw out his left hand in rage. It came into contact with +something in the air, something light and hollow, which fell crashing to +the floor, and a faint, gasping, indrawn breath from the sleeper on the +bed followed it. For an instant all was silent; then Mrs. Joyce cried +out:</p> + +<p>"She has returned! Your mother has returned! Don't strike a light. Wait +a moment." She moved forward a little. "May I touch her?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Victor thought she was speaking to him, but before he could reply the +invisible one whispered: "<i>Yes. Approach slowly.</i>"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce laid her hand on the sleeper's brow. "She's warmer, Victor! +She's breathing! She has certainly come back to us."</p> + +<p>"<i>Approach</i>," whispered the voice in Victor's ear.</p> + +<p>He moved forward now, in awe and wonder, and stood beside the bed. +Slowly the room lightened, and out of the darkness the pallid face of +his mother developed like the shadowy figures on a photographic plate. +She was lying just as before, save for one hand, which Mrs. Joyce had +taken. He laid his own vital, magnetic palm upon her arm, and finding it +still cold and pulseless, called out:</p> + +<p>"Mother, do you hear me? It is Victor."</p> + +<p>Her fingers moved slightly in response, and this minute sign of life +melted his heart. He fell upon his knees beside her bed, weeping with +gratitude and joy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2> + +<h3>VICTOR REPAIRS HIS MOTHER'S ALTAR</h3> + + +<p>In consenting to the removal of his mother to Mrs. Joyce's home Victor +had no intention of receding from his position. On the contrary, he +considered it merely a temporary measure—for the night, or at most for +a few days. He entered the car, thinking only of her wishes, and when he +watched her sink to sleep in her spacious and luxurious bed under Mrs. +Joyce's generous roof he couldn't but feel relieved at the thought that +she was safe and on the way back to health. It was only when he left her +and went to his own splendid chamber that his nervousness returned.</p> + +<p>Every day, every hour plunged him deeper into debt to these strangers; +and the fact that they were treating him like a young duke was all the +more disturbing. He fancied Carew saying of him, as he had said of +another, "Oh, he's merely one of Mrs. Joyce's pensioners," and the +thought caused him to burn with impatience.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless he slept, and in the morning he forgot his perplexities in +the joy of taking his breakfast with Leonora. He admired her now so +intensely that his own weakness, irresolution, and inactivity seemed +supine. He was impatient to be doing something. His hands and his brain +seemed empty. With no games, no tasks, he was disordered, lost.</p> + +<p>They were alone at the table, these young people, and naturally fell to +discussing Mrs. Ollnee's marvelous return to life. This led him to speak +of his own plans. "My course at Winona fitted me for nothing," he +acknowledged, bitterly. "I should have gone in for something like +mechanical engineering, but I didn't. I had some fool notion of being a +lawyer, and mother, I can see now, was all for having me a preacher of +her faith. So here I am, helpless as a blind kitten."</p> + +<p>It was proof of his essential charm that Leonora not only endured his +renewed harping on this harsh string, but encouraged him to continue. "I +know you chafe," she said. "I had that feeling till I began my course in +cooking, and just to assure myself that I am not entirely useless and +helpless in the world, I'm now going in for a training as a nurse."</p> + +<p>"A nurse!" he exclaimed. "Oh, that explains something."</p> + +<p>"What does it explain?"</p> + +<p>"I wondered how you could be so calm and so efficient yesterday."</p> + +<p>She seemed pleased. "Was I calm and efficient? Well, that's one result +of my study. I can at least keep my head when anything goes wrong."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I like your being a trained nurse," he said.</p> + +<p>She smiled. "Don't you? Why not?"</p> + +<p>"You're too fine for that," he answered, slowly. "You were made to +command, not to serve. You should be the queen of some castle."</p> + +<p>His frankly expressed admiration did not embarrass her. She accepted his +words as if they came from a boy. "Castles are said to be draughty and +dreadfully hard to keep in order, and besides, a queen's retainers are +always getting sick, or killed, or something, so I think I'll keep on +with my training as a nurse."</p> + +<p>"But there must be a whole lot of unpleasant, nasty drudgery about it."</p> + +<p>"Sickness isn't nice, I'll admit, but there is no place in the world +where care and sympathy mean so much."</p> + +<p>"You don't intend to go out and nurse among strangers?"</p> + +<p>"I may."</p> + +<p>"I bet you don't—not for long. Some fellow will come along and say 'No +more of that,' and then you'll stay home."</p> + +<p>"What sort of fiction do you read?" she asked, with the air of an older +sister.</p> + +<p>"The truthful sort. Your nursing is nothing but a fad."</p> + +<p>"What a wise old gray-beard you are!"</p> + +<p>He was nettled. "You need not take that superior tone with me. I'm two +years older than you are."</p> + +<p>"And ten years wiser, I suppose you would declare if you dared."</p> + +<p>"I didn't say that."</p> + +<p>"No; your tone was enough. I admit you know a great deal more about +baseball than I do."</p> + +<p>He winced. "That was a side-winder, all right. If I knew as much about +the carpenter's trade or the sale of dry goods as I do about 'the +national game' I'd stand a chance of earning my board."</p> + +<p>"Why not join the league?" she suggested. "They pay good wages, I +believe."</p> + +<p>He took this seriously. "I thought of that, but even if I could get into +a league team, which is hardly probable, it wouldn't lead anywhere. You +see, I'm getting up an ambition. I want to be rich and powerful."</p> + +<p>"Football players have always been my adoration," she responded, +heartily. "You'd look splendid in harness. Why don't you go in for +that?"</p> + +<p>"You may laugh at me now," he replied, bluntly. "But give me ten +years—"</p> + +<p>"Mercy, I'll be too old to admire even a football captain by that time."</p> + +<p>"You'll be only thirty-one."</p> + +<p>She sobered a little. "Men have the advantage. You will be young at +thirty-three, and I'll be—well, a matron. No, I'm afraid I can't wait +that long. I must find my admirable short-stop or half-back, whichever +he is to be, long before that."</p> + +<p>He changed his tone and appealed to her seriously. "Really now, what can +I do? So long as this persecution of my mother keeps up I'm in for a +share of it. I can't run away, for I promised I wouldn't. So I remain, +like a turkey with a string to his leg, walking round and round my +little stake. What would you do in my place? Come now, be good and tell +me."</p> + +<p>She responded to his appeal. "Don't be impatient. That's the first +thing. Be resigned to this luxury for a few days. The Voices will tell +you what to do. They may be planning a surprise for you."</p> + +<p>"All I ask of them is to quit the job and let me plan things for +myself," he slowly protested.</p> + +<p>The entrance of Mrs. Wood, senior, ended their dialogue, and he went +away with a sense of having failed to win Leo's respect and confidence, +as he had hoped to do. "She considers me a kid," he muttered, +discontentedly. "But she will change her mind one of these days."</p> + +<p>He spent the morning with his mother, but toward noon he grew restless +and went down into the library, wherein he had observed several bound +volumes of the report of The Psychical Society. He fell to reading a +long article upon "multiple personality," and followed this by the close +study of an essay on hysteria, and when Mrs. Joyce called him to lunch +he was like a man awakened from deep sleep. These articles, filled with +new and bewildering conceptions of the human organism, were after all +entirely materialistic in their outcome. Personality was not a unit, but +a combination, and the whole discussion served but to throw him into +mental confusion and dismay.</p> + +<p>At lunch Mrs. Joyce proposed that they all take an automobile ride round +the city and end up with a dinner at the Club; and seeing no chance for +doing anything along the line of securing employment, Victor consented +to the expedition.</p> + +<p>The weather was glorious, and the troubled youth's brain cleared as if +the sweet, cool, lake wind had swept away the miasma which his +experience of the darker side of the city had placed there. He +surrendered himself to the pleasure, the luxury of it recklessly. How +could he continue to brood over his future with a lovely girl by his +side and a sweet and tender spring landscape unrolling before him?</p> + +<p>They fairly belted the city in their run, and in the end, as they went +sweeping down the curving driveway of the lake, Mrs. Ollnee's face was +delicately pink and her eyes were bright with happiness. To her son she +seemed once more the lovely and delicate figure of his boyhood's +admiration. It seemed that her death-like trance had been a horrible +dream.</p> + +<p>The ride, the club-house, the dinner, were all luxurious to the point of +bewilderment to Victor, but he did not betray his uneasiness. He was +only a little more silent, a little more meditative, as he took his +place at the finely decorated table in the pavilion which faced upon the +water. He determined (for the day at least) to accept everything that +came his way. This recklessness completely dominated him as he looked +across the board at Leonora, so radiant with health and youth.</p> + +<p>No one would have detected anything morbid in Mrs. Ollnee. She was +prettily dressed and not in the least abnormal, and Victor was proud of +her, even though he knew that her dresses were earned by a sort of +necromancy.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce carefully avoided any discussion of his problem, and the +dinner ended as joyfully at it began. They rode home afterward, under +the bright half moon, silent for very pleasure in the beautiful night.</p> + +<p>The park was full of loiterers, two and two, and on the benches under +the trees others sat, two and two together. It was mating-time for all +the world, and Victor's blood was astir as he turned toward the stately +girl whose face had driven out all others as the moon drowns out the +stars. His audacity of the morning was gone, however. He looked at her +now with a certain humble appeal. His subjugation had begun.</p> + +<p>At the house they all lingered for an hour on the back porch, which +looked out upon a little formal garden. Two slender trees stood there, +and their silken rustling filled in the pauses of the conversation like +the conferring voices of a distant multitude of infant seraphim.</p> + +<p>"Those must be cottonwoods," Victor remarked.</p> + +<p>"They are," replied Mrs. Joyce. "I love them. When I was a child I used +to visit a farm-house in whose yard were two tall trees of this sort, +and their murmur always filled me with mystical delight. I used to lie +in the grass under them, hour by hour, trying to imagine what they were +saying to me. Ever since I had a place of my own I've had +cottonwood-trees in my yard. I know they're a nuisance with their fuzz, +but I love their rustling."</p> + +<p>As she paused, the leaves uttered a pleased murmur, and Victor, +listening with a new sense of the sentiment which his hostess concealed +in a plump and unimposing form, thought he heard a sibilant whispered +word in his car. "Victor," it said, "I love you."</p> + +<p>He turned quickly toward his mother, but she seemed not to be listening, +and a moment later she spoke to Mrs. Joyce, uttering some pleasant +commonplace about the night.</p> + +<p>This whisper was so clear, so unmistakable, that Victor could not doubt +its reality. The question was which of the women had spoken it. He had a +foolish wish to believe that Leo had uttered it. He listened again, but +heard nothing.</p> + +<p>As he was helping his mother slowly up the stairs to her room, he said: +"This is all very beautiful, mother, but I can't enjoy it as I ought. I +feel like a fraud every time I see Mrs. Joyce handing out one of those +big bills. I suppose she can afford it, but I can't. We must get back to +the old place, or to some new place, and live on our own resources."</p> + +<p>"We can't do that till morning, dear. Let us wait until The Voices +speak. They have been silent to-day. Perhaps they will advise us +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Here was the place to tell her of the whispers he had heard, but he +could not bring himself to do so.</p> + +<p>She went on: "I wish you would repair my table, your grandfather's +table, as you promised, Victor. I don't know why, but it helps me. But +you must be careful not to use any metal about it."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's another one of the mysteries. They seem to object to metal."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll get at it to-morrow," he said, and kissing her good-night, +went to his own room.</p> + +<p>He was awake and dressed before six the next morning, and leaving a +note for Mrs. Joyce, set out for California Avenue. On the way he +dropped into a cheap café and got a breakfast which cost him twenty +cents. He enjoyed this keenly, because, as he said, it was in his class +and was paid for out of the money his mother had given him for his +trophy.</p> + +<p>All was quiet at the flat, and setting to work on the table with glue +and stout cord, he soon had it on its legs. Looking down upon it as a +completed job, he marveled at the reverence which his mother seemed to +have for it, and his mind reverted to the astounding phenomena which he +himself had witnessed over its top.</p> + +<p>Picking up one of the folded slates, he opened it with intent to see if +it held any hidden springs or false surfaces. Out fluttered a folded +paper. This he snatched up and studied with interest. It was a peculiar +sort of parchment, veined like a bit of corn-husk, and on it, written in +delicate and beautiful script, were these words: "<i>Go to Room 70, +Harwood Bldg., to-day. Danger threatens. Altair.</i>"</p> + +<p>"I wonder who Altair is," he mused, staring at the bit of paper, "and +what is the danger that threatens?"</p> + +<p>While still he stood debating whether to go down-town or to warn his +mother, a heavy step on the stairs announced a visitor. The man (for it +was plainly the tread of a man, and a fat man) knocked on the door, but +did not pause for reply. "Are you there, Lucy?" he called, and came in.</p> + +<p>Victor faced him with instant resentment of this familiarity. "Who are +you? What do you want here?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>The other, a tall, clumsy, broad-faced individual in costly clothing, +seemed surprised and a little alarmed. "I came to see Mrs. Ollnee," he +explained. "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"I am her son—and I want to know how you dare to push into my mother's +house like this!"</p> + +<p>"My name is Pettus," he answered, pacifically. "No doubt you've heard +your mother speak of me."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," responded the youth. "I heard Mr. Carew speak of you. You're +president of that Transportation Company they're all so wild about."</p> + +<p>A shade of apprehension passed over Pettus's fat, ugly face. "Carew! +You've seen him? I suppose he gave me a bad name? But never mind—where +will I find your mother?"</p> + +<p>Victor didn't like the man, and he remained silent till Pettus repeated +his question, then he answered, "I can't tell you where my mother is."</p> + +<p>"You mean you won't!"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, that's what I do mean."</p> + +<p>Pettus turned away. "I can find her without your aid."</p> + +<p>"What do you want with her?"</p> + +<p>"I want a sitting at once!"</p> + +<p>"You keep away from her!" Victor blazed out. "I don't want her sitting +for you. She's mixed up too deeply in your affairs already. Carew +said—"</p> + +<p>"I don't care what Carew said—and I don't care whether you approve of +your mother's sitting for me or not. Her controls will decide that +question."</p> + +<p>He tramped out and down the stairway, and from the window Victor saw him +whirl away in his automobile. "That man's a scoundrel and a slob," he +said; "a greasy old slob. I will not have my mother sitting for such +people. Can't I head him off somehow?"</p> + +<p>With sudden resolution he ran down the stairway and over to the +telephone booth on the corner. He got the butler at once, and was deeply +relieved to find that his mother was out with Mrs. Joyce. "He can't see +her before I do," he concluded, as he hung up the receiver. "I'll go +over there and wait for her to return."</p> + +<p>As he neared the house he met Leo coming out with some letters in her +hand, and with the swift resiliency of youth, he asked if he might not +walk with her.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," she said; "I want to talk with you about your plans."</p> + +<p>"I haven't any plans," he said.</p> + +<p>"What have you been doing this morning?"</p> + +<p>He hesitated a moment, then answered: "I've been mending that old +table—I suppose you heard about my smashing it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and it seemed a very childish thing to do."</p> + +<p>"If you knew how I hate that business and everything connected with it!"</p> + +<p>"I do, and it seems absurd to me. Your mother's life is very wonderful +and very beautiful to me."</p> + +<p>He changed the subject. "Did that man Pettus call just now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"He's a scoundrel—that chap. A four-flusher."</p> + +<p>"What makes you think that?"</p> + +<p>"Well, the very looks of the man."</p> + +<p>She laughed. "He isn't pretty, but he's a very decent citizen—and has a +lovely wife and two daughters."</p> + +<p>"He's a slob—his face gives him away—and besides, Mr. Carew the other +night—"</p> + +<p>"I know," she interrupted; "Mr. Carew is sure we're all going to be +ruined by your mother and the Universal Transportation Company."</p> + +<p>"I hope you haven't put your money into anything Pettus has control of?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't let's talk business on a morning like this. It's +criminal—let's talk about trees and birds and flowers." She might have +added "and love," for when youth and springtime meet, even on a city +boulevard, love is the most important subject in the encyclopedia of +life. So they walked and talked and jested in the way of young men and +maidens, and Victor talked of himself, finding his life-history vastly +absorbing when discussed by a tall girl with a splendid profile and a +cultivated voice. He watched her buy her stamps at the drug-store, +finding in her every movement something adorable. The poise of her bust +and her fine head appealed to him with power; but her humor, her cool, +clear gaze, checked the crude compliments which he was moved to utter. +She could not be addressed as he had been accustomed to address his girl +classmates at Winona.</p> + +<p>This walk completed the severance of the ties which bound him to the +university. His desire to return to his games weakened. His ambition to +shine as an athlete faded. He wished to prove to this proud girl that he +was neither boy nor dreamer, and that he was competent to take care of +himself and his mother as well.</p> + +<p>As they were re-entering the house, he said: "Don't utter a word of what +I've told you. I'm going to test whether my mother has the power to read +my mind or not."</p> + +<p>"I understand," she returned, "and I'm glad you're going to share in our +séance to-night."</p> + +<p>He frowned. "Don't say 'séance.' I hate that word."</p> + +<p>She laughed. "Aren't you fierce! But I'll respect your prejudices so far +as an utterly unprejudiced person can."</p> + +<p>"Do you call yourself an unprejudiced person?"</p> + +<p>"I try to be."</p> + +<p>"But you're not. You have a prejudice against me," he insisted, forcing +the personal note.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're quite mistaken," she replied; "in fact I think you're rather +nice—for a boy." And she went away, leaving him to fume under this +indignity.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce and Mrs. Ollnee came in soon afterward, and they all took tea +together quite as casually as if they were not on the edge of something +very thrilling and profoundly mysterious. Mrs. Joyce politely asked +Victor what he had been doing, but his answers were evasive. He made no +mention of Pettus, though he was burning with desire to warn her against +him.</p> + +<p>Soon afterward they went to his mother's room, and once safely inside +the door he turned upon her. "Mother, are you going to sit for Pettus +to-night?"</p> + +<p>"I expect him, but I'm not sitting for him specially."</p> + +<p>"I won't have him in the circle! He is a slimy old beast. I hate +him—and Mr. Carew warned us against him. He wasn't guessing, mother, he +<i>knows</i> that this old four-flusher is up to some deviltry. How did he +find you?"</p> + +<p>"He called us up."</p> + +<p>"I simply will not have him sit with you again, and you must not advise +any one to put a cent into his concern. Where are you going to have this +performance?"</p> + +<p>"I thought of sitting here, but I need the old table. You mended it, +didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I mended it."</p> + +<p>"And you had a message from <i>Altair</i>?"</p> + +<p>"How did you learn that?"</p> + +<p>"I felt it," she answered, gravely. "She said danger threatened—did she +tell you what the danger was?"</p> + +<p>"No; who is <i>Altair</i> supposed to be?"</p> + +<p>"She is a very pure and high spirit—a girl of wonderful beauty—so they +say. I have never seen her myself—she told me to-day that she would +watch over you."</p> + +<p>At this moment a whisper was heard in the air just above her head.</p> + +<p>"<i>Lucy!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father."</p> + +<p>"<i>Take the boy—sit—the old place. Leave Pettus out.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father."</p> + +<p>"<i>I will be there. Pettus is under investigation.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Much obliged," said Victor; and then he heard close to his ear a faint +whisper: "<i>Victor, you shall see me—Altair.</i>"</p> + +<p>He was staring straight at his mother's lips at the moment, and yet he +was unable to detect any visible part in the production of the voice. +She explained the whisper. "Altair is smiling at you. She says she will +be with us to-night."</p> + +<p>All this was very shocking to Victor. Utterly disconcerted and unable to +confront her at the moment, he left the room. The whole problem of her +mental condition, the central kernel of her philosophy was involved in +that one whisper. To solve that was to solve it all. It was not so much +a question of how she did it, it was a question of her right to deceive +him.</p> + +<p>He seized the time between tea and dinner to return to the library. For +an hour he dug into the spongy soil of metaphysics, and it happened that +he fell at last upon the Crookes and Zöllner experiments (quoted at +greater length in a volume of collected experience) and found there +clear and direct testimony as to the mind's mastery of matter. There was +abundant evidence of the handling of fire by the medium Home, and +Slade's ability to float in the air was attested by well-known +witnesses, but beyond this and closer to his own day, he came upon a +detailed study of an Italian psychic with her "supernumerary hands," a +story which should have made the materialization of a letter seem very +simple. But it did not. All the testimony of these great men, abundant +as it was, slid from his mind as harmlessly as water from oiled silk. +Apparently, it failed to alter the texture of his thought in the +slightest degree. His world was the world of youth, the good old +wholesome, stable world, and he refused to be convinced.</p> + +<p>At dinner he was angered, in spite of Leo's presence, by his mother's +returning confidence and ease of manner. His own position had been +weakened, he felt, by his acquiescence in the sitting. His desire to +satisfy himself, to solve his mother's mystery, had led him to abandon +his stern resolution—and he regretted it. He ate sparingly and took no +wine, being resolved to retain a perfectly clear head for the evening's +experiment. He was grateful to Leo for keeping the talk on subjects of +general interest, even though he had little part in it, and his liking +for her deepened.</p> + +<p>As he neared the test he began to sharply realize that for the first +time in all his life he was about to take part in one of his mother's +hated "performances," and his breath was troubled by the excitement of +it. "I will make this test conclusive," he said to himself, and his jaw +squared. "There will be no nonsense to-night."</p> + +<p>The papers of the day had remained free from any further allusion to +"the Spiritual Blood-Suckers," and it really seemed as if the cloud +might be lifting, and this consideration made his participation in the +sitting all the more like a return to a lower and less defensible +position. He was irritated by the methodical action with which his +mother proceeded to set the stage for her farce. Wood, who seemed quite +at home, assisted in these preparations, leaving Victor leaning in +sullen silence against the wall.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce took a seat directly opposite the little psychic, Wood sat at +her left, while Victor, with Leo at his right, completed the little +crescent. Mrs. Ollnee, with her small, battered table before her, faced +them across its top. Victor made no objection to this arrangement, but +kept an alert eye on every movement. He watched her closely. She first +breathed into one of the horns and put it beside her, then held one of +the slates between her palms for a little time. "I hope this will be +illuminated to-night," she said.</p> + +<p>This remark gave Victor a twinge of disgust and bewildered pain. "She is +too little and sweet and fine to be the high priest of such jugglery," +he thought, but did not cease his watchful attention, even for an +instant.</p> + +<p>The locking of the door, the turning out of the light and the taking +hands in the good old traditional way all irritated and well-nigh +estranged him. Why should his life be thrown into the midst of such +cheap and ill-odored drama? "This shall never happen again," he vowed, +beneath his breath.</p> + +<p>There was not much talk during the first half-hour, for the reason that +Victor was too self-accusing to talk, and the others were too solemn and +too eager for results to enter upon general conversation. For the most +part, they spoke in low voices and waited and listened.</p> + +<p>The first indication of anything unusual, aside from the tapping, was a +breeze, a deathly cold wind, which began to blow faintly over the table +from his mother, bearing a peculiar perfume (an odor like that from +some Oriental rug), which grew in power till each of the sitters +remarked upon it. This current of air continued so long and so +uninterruptedly that Victor began to wonder. Could it be his mother's +breath? If she were not fraudulently producing it, then it must be that +some window had been opened. The network of her deceit—if it was +deceit—thickened.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce then said, in a low voice: "We are to have celestial visitors +to-night. That is the wind which accompanies the astral forms."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Leo, "and that perfume always accompanies Altair. Are we to +see Altair?" she softly asked.</p> + +<p>A sibilant whisper replied, "<i>Yes, soon.</i>"</p> + +<p>A moment later, another and distinctly different voice called softly, +"<i>My son.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" asked Victor.</p> + +<p>"<i>Your father.</i>"</p> + +<p>"What have you to say to me?"</p> + +<p>"<i>The power of the mind is limitless</i>," the whispered voice replied. +"<i>Matter, the strongest steel, is but a form of motion.</i>"</p> + +<p>"What is all that to me?" asked Victor.</p> + +<p>"<i>As you think so you will be. Be strong and constant.</i>"</p> + +<p>The vagueness of all this increased Victor's irritation. "What about +Pettus?"</p> + +<p>The voice hesitated, weakened a little. "<i>I can't tell—not now—I will +ask.</i>"</p> + +<p>What followed did not come clearly and consecutively to Victor, for Mrs. +Joyce (who was expert in hearing and reporting the whispers) repeated +each sentence or the substance of it to him. But he himself heard a +considerable part of it. In the very midst of a sentence the voice +stopped. It was as if a wire had been cut, or the receiver hung up; the +silence was like death itself.</p> + +<p>Victor called out to his mother: "Can you hear The Voices, mother? They +seem to come from where you are."</p> + +<p>She did not reply, and Mrs. Joyce explained. "She is gone."</p> + +<p>Again the cold breeze set in, with a strong, steady swell, and with it +was borne a low, humming note, which grew in volume and depth till it +resembled the roaring rush of a November blast through the branches of +an oak. It became awesome at last, with its majesty of moaning song, and +saddening with its somber suggestion of autumn and of death. It opened +the shabby little room upon an empty and limitless space, upon an +infinite and vacant and obscure desert wherein night and storms +contended. It died away at last, leaving the air chill and pulseless, +and the chamber darker than before.</p> + +<p>Before any comment could be made upon this astounding phenomenon, Victor +perceived a faint glow of phosphorus upon the table. It increased in +brilliancy till it presented a clear-cut square of some greenish +glowing substance, and then a large hand in a ruffled sleeve appeared +above it as if in the act of writing.</p> + +<p>"It is Watts," whispered Leo. "He is writing for us."</p> + +<p>Bending forward, Victor was able to read this message outlined in dark +script on the glowing surface of what seemed to be the slate: "<i>The +dreams of to-day are the realities of to-morrow.</i>" These words faded and +again the shadowy hand swept over the table, and this companion sentence +followed: "<i>The realities of to-day will be but the half-truths or the +gross errors of the future.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>WATTS.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Victor was strongly tempted to clutch this hand, but fear of something +unpleasant prevented him from doing so. He was sick with apprehension, +with dread of what might happen next. A feeling of guilt, of remorse, +came upon him. "I am to blame for this!" he thought, and was on the +point of rising and calling for the lights, when something happened +which changed not merely his feeling at the moment, but the whole course +of his life, so incredible, so destructive of all physical laws, of all +his scientific training was the phenomenon. A hand, large and shapely, +took up the glowing slate and held it like a lamp to his mother's face, +so that all might see her. She sat with hands outspread upon the table, +her head thrown back, her eyes closed. Her arms extended in rigid lines. +It seemed that the invisible ones desired to prove to Victor that his +mother could not and was not holding the slate.</p> + +<p>Swift as light the glowing mirror disappeared, and then, as if through a +window opened in the air before his eyes, Victor perceived a strange +face confronting him, the face of a girl with deep and tender eyes, +incredibly beautiful. Her eyes were in shadow, but the pure oval of her +cheeks, the dainty grace of her chin, the broad, full brow and something +ineffably pure in the faintly happy smile, stopped his breath with awe. +He forgot his mother, his problems, his doubts, in study of the +unearthly beauty of this vision.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce whispered in ecstasy, "It is Altair!"</p> + +<p>The angelic lips parted, and a low voice, so gentle it was like the +murmur of a leaf, replied, "<i>Yes, it is Altair.</i>" And to Victor her +voice was of exquisite delicacy. "<i>Believe, be faithful.</i>"</p> + +<p>No one breathed. It was as if they had been permitted to gaze upon one +of heaven's angelic choir. How came she there? Who was she? Before these +questions could be framed she disappeared, silently as a bubble on the +water, leaving behind only that delicious, subtle, unaccountable odor as +of tropic fruits and unknown flowers.</p> + +<p>Leo, breathing a sigh of sad ecstasy, exclaimed: "Is she not beautiful? +Never has she shown herself more glorious than to-night."</p> + +<p>Victor was like one drugged and dreaming. There was no question of his +mother's honesty in his mind. He did not relate the vision to her, and +he winced with pain as Leo spoke. He wished to recall the face, to hear +that whisper again. The effect upon him was enormous, instant, +unfolding. In all his life nothing mystic, nothing to disturb or rouse +his imagination had hitherto come to him, and now this transcendent +marvel, this face born of the invisible and intangible essence of the +air, beat down his self-assurance and destroyed his smug conception of +the universe. He lost sight of his hypothesis and accepted Altair for +what she seemed, a gloriously beautiful soul of another world, a world +of purity and light and love.</p> + +<p>He remained silent as Mrs. Joyce rose and went to his mother. He was +still in his seat when they turned up the lights. Leo spoke to him, but +he did not answer. Strange transformation! At the moment her voice +jarred upon him. She seemed commonplace, prosaic, in contrast with the +woman who had looked upon him from the luminous shadow.</p> + +<p>Gradually the walls he hated, the entangling relationship he feared, +returned upon him; and though he realized something of the revealing +character of his reticence, he had not the will to break it. He watched +his mother return to her normal self with such detachment that she at +last became aware of it and lifted her feeble hands in search of him. +"Victor, come to me!" she pleaded.</p> + +<p>He went to her then, still in a daze, and to her question, "Did your +father come?" he replied, brokenly, "A voice came, but I can't talk +about that now—I must go out into the air."</p> + +<p>All perceived the tumult—the strange psychic condition into which he +had been thrown, and were considerate enough to refrain from pressing +him with inquiry. "He has been touched by 'the power,'" whispered Mrs. +Joyce to Leo. "He's under conviction."</p> + +<p>The cool, clear air and the material rush of the city throbbing in upon +his brain restored the youth to something like his normal self; but he +remained silent and distraught all the way home.</p> + +<p>As they entered the hall Leo glanced at his face with unsmiling, +penetrating intensity, and in that moment perceived that Victor the boy +had given place to Victor the man. She experienced a swift change of +relationship, and a pang of jealousy shot through her heart. She +realized that the wondrous spirit face was the power that had so wrought +upon and transformed him. She, too, had thrilled to the mystical beauty +of the phantom, and she had read in the tremulous lips the hesitating +whisper, a love for the young mortal, which had troubled her at the +moment, and which became more serious to her now.</p> + +<p>They said good-night as strangers; he absorbed, absent-minded; she +resentful and a little hurt.</p> + +<p>To his mother, when they were alone in her room, he said, +haltingly: "Mother, you must forgive me. I thought you did those +things—unconsciously cheating—but now—I—give it up. I believe in you +absolutely."</p> + +<p>She raised her eyes to his wet with happy tears. "My son! My splendid +boy!" she said, and in her voice was song.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2> + +<h3>THE LAW'S DELAY</h3> + + +<p>"Belief," says the wise man, "is not a matter of evidence; it is a habit +of mind." And notwithstanding his confession of inward transformation, +Victor found doubt still hidden deep in his brain when he woke the +following morning. His conviction had been temporary.</p> + +<p>In his musing upon Altair he began to remember some very curious +details. He recalled that at first glance he had inwardly exclaimed, +"How much she looks like Leo!" The lips and chin were similar, only +sadder, sweeter—and the poise of the head was like hers also. But the +brow and the eyes were more like his mother's. It was as though Altair +were at once the heavenly sister of Leonora and the spirit daughter of +his mother, and the love which lay on the tremulous lips, the deep, +serious eyes, moved him still with almost undiminished power. He was +eager to see the celestial face again.</p> + +<p>He was less clear about his own physical condition at the time. He +remembered feeling weak and chilled, as though some of his own vitality +had gone out of his blood in the attempt to warm that unaccountable +being into life. He recalled his parting with his mother as if it were +the incident in a painful dream. It was all impossible, incredible, and +yet—it happened!</p> + +<p>His morning mood was eager and searching. He was quite ready to see Leo, +ready to talk with her of all that had taken place. Hitherto he had +avoided any detailed story of his mother's evocations, but now he was +violently curious to know whether or no she had ever performed these +particular rites before. He wished to hear all that Leo had to say, and +he was deeply disappointed when neither she nor his hostess appeared at +the breakfast table.</p> + +<p>He finished his meal hurriedly (as soon as it became evident that he was +to be alone), and instead of going down-town returned to the library to +re-read the famous story of Sir William Crookes and "Katie King"—every +word of which had acquired new meaning to him. He thrilled now to the +calm, bald narrative, reading between the lines the inner story of the +great scientist's bewildered love for the stainless vision which he had +evoked but could not endow with lasting life.</p> + +<p>The boy dwelt upon the scene of their parting with peculiar pain, +perceiving in it new pathos. A throb of sorrow came into his throat. Was +Altair but a transitory flower of the dark—aloof, intangible, and sad? +What meant the wistful sweetness of her smile? Was she unhappy in the +icy realms from which she came? Did she long for human companionship? +Would she come again? He found himself longing for the night and another +sitting with his mother. He felt vaguely the disappointment which comes +to those who listen to the messages of these celestial apparitions, so +commonplace, so vaporous, so inane. "Katie King," surpassing all earthly +women in her physical loveliness, brought no sentence of intellectual +distinction from the mysterious void which was her home.</p> + +<p>In the midst of this astounding narrative he heard Leo's voice in the +hall, and with a guilty start put his book away and rose to meet her, +remembering that he had not treated her very well after the sitting, +though he could not recall the precise reason for it. Gradually her +step, the sound of her voice, reasserted their charm, and he returned to +the breakfast-room like a boy who has been sullen and knows it, but +hopes to be forgiven.</p> + +<p>His shamefaced entrance disarmed her resentment, and in her merry smile +of greeting the dream face faded away. The marvelous vision of the night +lost its dominion over him, and he became again the son of the morning.</p> + +<p>The girl openly mocked him. "You look pale and sheepish. What have you +been doing?"</p> + +<p>"I've been reading about 'Katie King.' Do you believe that story?"</p> + +<p>"We must believe it when a man like Sir William Crookes tells it. Do you +believe what you saw and heard last night?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't. How can I?"</p> + +<p>"You seemed to believe in the vision of Altair," she persisted, eying +him archly. "You were carried away by her wonderful beauty. I don't +blame you. Her loveliness is beyond anything on this earth. A vision +like that of sublimated womanhood, purified of all its dross, is very +hard on us mortals. Altair doesn't find it necessary to eat eggs and +toast, as I am doing this minute. I'm a horribly vulgar and common +creature I know, and I ought to apologize, but I won't. I like being a +normal human being, and if you don't like to see me eat you may go +away."</p> + +<p>"I like nothing better than to see you eat, and I've just had a couple +of eggs myself. I was hoping all the time you would come down and join +me, but you didn't."</p> + +<p>"I didn't get to sleep as usual last night," she confessed, with a +change of tone. "Altair came to me and kept me stirred up till nearly +two o'clock."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean she hung about my bed, tapping and sighing incessantly for what +seemed like hours."</p> + +<p>"Could you see her?"</p> + +<p>"Part of the time. Finally I turned up the light and got rid of her."</p> + +<p>He sat in silence for a few moments, then burst out wildly: "Are we all +going crazy together? When I hear you talk like that it makes me angry, +and it makes me sad. I never met such people before. What does it all +mean? Seems like everybody around my mother is bitten by this +ghost-bug."</p> + +<p>"You, too," she accused. "You caught a little of the madness last +night."</p> + +<p>"I did, I admit it; but I'm going to throw it off. I won't have any more +of it."</p> + +<p>"Is your curiosity satisfied?"</p> + +<p>"No, it is not; but I'm not going to desert the good old sunny world I +know for the kind of windy graveyard we faced last night. Even the eyes +of Altair were sad. Did you notice it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did," she admitted. "And that's one of the things I can't +understand. The spirits all <i>say</i> they are happy, but they <i>look</i> +wistful, and their voices indicate that they are filled with longing to +return."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to break out of this circle of my mother's converts," he +passionately declared. "I've got to do it, or 'll get all twisted out of +shape like the rest of you. I'm going to try again to-day to reach some +man who has never heard of a psychic. I'm going to some big mill and +apply for manual labor. There's something uncanny in the way I'm kept +circling around mother's cranky patrons. I'll get batty in the steeple +if I don't get help. Let's go out for a walk in the park. Let's forget +we're immortal souls for an hour or two. I want to see a tree. Let's go +to the ball game—and to the theater to-night—that'll take all the +money I have left, and leave me just square with the world, so I can +jump into the lake to-morrow without anybody else's money in my pocket. +Come, what do you say?"</p> + +<p>She perceived something more than humor in his noisy declamation, and +accepted his challenge. "I'll go you," she slangily replied; "just wait +till I get my walking-togs on."</p> + +<p>"You've got to hurry," he warned. "I'm going to get out of this house +before anything crazy happens to me. Meet me down at the corner of the +boulevard."</p> + +<p>He left the room with intent to avoid both his mother and Mrs. Joyce. At +the moment he wished to remove himself from any further argument, and +his longing for the trees and the park was a genuine reaction from his +long stress of the supernatural. "My search for a job can go over till +to-morrow," he decided.</p> + +<p>He was sufficiently recovered from his bewilderment, his pain of the +night before, to glow with pleasure as he saw Leonora swinging along +toward him. "She carries herself well," he said.</p> + +<p>She was dressed in a light-gray skirt and jacket, and her white hat had +a long, gray quill which waved back over the rim, giving her the jaunty +air of a yacht under reefed sail. Her face was brilliant with color, +and her eyes were alight with humor. "Aunt Louise wanted to know where +we were going, and I said 'St. Joe, Michigan.'"</p> + +<p>He pretended not to see the joke. "St. Joe; why St. Joe?"</p> + +<p>As she caught his stride she demurely answered, "If you don't know, it's +not for me to explain."</p> + +<p>"I suppose people <i>do</i> go to St. Joe for other purposes than marriage?"</p> + +<p>"It is possible, but they never get into the newspapers. We only hear of +the young things who beat their angry parents by just one boat." She +changed her tone. "Where <i>shall</i> we go?"</p> + +<p>"I don't object to St. Joe."</p> + +<p>She pretended to be shocked. "How sudden you are! We've only known each +other two days."</p> + +<p>"Three. However, we might make it a trial marriage. You could put me on +probation."</p> + +<p>"After your display of inconstancy last night I wouldn't trust you even +for a probationary engagement."</p> + +<p>He harked back to the vision of Altair. "She <i>was</i> beautiful, wasn't +she? Did she really exist, or was it merely some sort of hallucination?"</p> + +<p>"I thought you weren't going to discuss these subjects?"</p> + +<p>He assented instantly. "Quite right. Give me a crack on the ear every +time I break out. I wish I were a robin. See that chap on the lawn! His +clothes grow of themselves, and as for food, all he has to do is to tap +on the ground, and out pops a worm."</p> + +<p>"I prefer roast beef and asparagus tips; and as for wearing the same +feathers all the time—horrible!"</p> + +<p>In such wise they talked, touching lightly on a hundred trivial +subjects, yet carrying the remembrance of Altair as an undertone to +every word. They walked up the boulevard to the Midway, then through the +park to the lagoon, and the sight of the water cheered Victor. "A boat!" +he cried. "Us for a boat-ride."</p> + +<p>He was a skilled and powerful oarsman (she had never seen his equal), +and his bared arms, the roll of his splendid muscles, were a delight to +her eyes.</p> + +<p>He exulted as the water cried out under the keel. "This is what I +needed. I've been without a chance to kill something, or beat somebody, +for three or four days. I am cracking for lack of exercise. Walking +isn't exercise."</p> + +<p>The heavy boat, under his sweeping strokes, cut through the water like a +canoe, and the girl on the stern seat watched him with dreaming eyes, +her air of patronization lost in contemplation of his skill, her hands +on the tiller-rope, her attitude of ease and irresponsibility typifying +the American woman, just as his intense and driving action represented +the American man.</p> + +<p>He traversed the entire length of the lagoon before his need of +muscular activity was met; then they drifted, exclaiming with pleasure +over the charming vistas which every turn of their boat afforded. The +catbirds were singing in the willows, and the banks were white and +yellow with flowering shrubs, and over all the clear sunlight fell in +cascades of gold. The wind was from the lake, cool but not chill; and +every leaf glistened as if newly burnished. The day was perfect spring, +and under its influence the two beings, young and ardent, inclined +irresistibly toward each other.</p> + +<p>The girl, who, up to this moment, had been indifferent, not so say +scornful, of the advances of men, gave herself up to the pleasure which +the companionship of this young giant afforded her. Altair and all that +she represented were very far and faint, dimmed, burned away into +nothingness by the vivid sun of this entrancing day.</p> + +<p>For hours they explored the lagoons, talking nonsense, the divine +nonsense of youth, or sitting idly and gazing at each other with the +new-born frankness of lovers. At last she said, "I'm hungry, aren't +you?"</p> + +<p>"As a wolf," he responded.</p> + +<p>"Shall we go home?"</p> + +<p>"Home? I have no home. No, let's camp right here in the park. There must +be a lunch counter somewhere."</p> + +<p>"There's something better than a lunch counter. There's the German +Building."</p> + +<p>"I'll stand you for a beer and sandwich," he shouted. "Show it to me."</p> + +<p>Returning the boat to the landing, he paid his fee with a satisfied +smile. "I never gave up forty-five cents with better grace in my life," +he said to her.</p> + +<p>She led the way to the café in the German Building, and there they ate +and drank in modest fashion, while he expressed his gratitude for her +guidance. "I owe you all I've got," he declared, displaying his little +handful of money. "You've shown me another side of the city's life. It +isn't so bad, this wild life of Chicago. We'll come again. <i>Will</i> you +come again?" He bent a frankly pleading gaze upon her.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I will. I love it here; but Aunt Louise prefers to ride about in +the car. However, you haven't seen all the park yet. You must see the +prairies at the south end, and the Spanish caravels, the convent—all +the marine side of it. Let's walk down the beach."</p> + +<p>He was glad to accept her guidance in this matter also, and they set off +down the curving walk, slowly, as if they found each new rood of ground +more enjoyable than that already traversed. He had a feeling that +nothing so sweet, so perfect as this day's companionship could ever +again come to him, and he lingered over each view as if determined to +extract its every possible phase of enjoyment, and when two paths +presented themselves, he shamelessly advised taking the longer one. So +they came to The Old Convent, to The Caravels in The South Lagoon, and +at last to The Sand Hills. This was the climax of their walk. These +dunes were so different from anything he had ever seen, so remote, so +suggestive, and so flooded with the light of his own growing romance, +that they seemed of another and strangely beautiful land.</p> + +<p>Taking seats upon the grass in the sunlight, which was just warm enough +to be delightful, they absorbed the scene in silence, entranced by the +sails, the far water-line, the sun, the wind, and the fluting of the +birds. The few people who drifted by were unimportant as shadows; and +Leo took no thought of time till a cloud crossed the sun and the wind +felt suddenly chill; then she rose. "We must go home, or they'll +certainly think we've gone to St. Joe."</p> + +<p>He returned to his jocular mood. "If I had ten dollars I'd ask you 'why +not?'"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't consent if you had a million."</p> + +<p>He pretended to be astonished. "You would not? Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because I believe in the pomp and circumstance of matrimony. No runaway +marriages for me! When I marry, it shall be in a vast cathedral, with a +mighty organ thundering and a long procession of awed and shivering +brides-maids."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry your tastes run in that way. I don't, at this time, feel able +to gratify them."</p> + +<p>"Nobody asked you, sir," she said; then looking about her, she sighed +deeply. "I hate to leave this place. It seems as though it could never +be so beautiful again. Haven't we had a heavenly day?"</p> + +<p>"I dread going back to the town, for then my needs and all my life +problems will swarm."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could help you," she said, sincerely.</p> + +<p>"You can," he earnestly assured her. "If you will only come out here +with me now and again I shall be able to stand a whole lot of 'grief.'"</p> + +<p>They were walking westward at the moment, past the golf-course, and a +sense of uneasiness filled the girl's heart. She looked up at him with a +grave face. "I don't know why, but I feel an impulse to hurry. I feel as +though we ought to get home as quickly as possible. They may be worried +about us."</p> + +<p>He did not share her apprehension. "I don't think they'll suffer."</p> + +<p>"Something urges me to run," she repeated. "We must go directly home."</p> + +<p>He quickened his step with hers, responding to the anxiety which had +come into her tone, but experiencing nothing of it in his heart. What he +did feel was the certainty that his day of careless ease was over. The +sky seemed suddenly to have lost its brightness. The birds had fallen +silent. The crowds of people seemed less festive. The world of work-worn +men rolled back upon them in a noisy flood as they caught a car and +went speeding down the squalid avenue. Leo's anxiety seemed to increase +rather than to lessen as they neared her home. "There's been some +accident!" she insisted. "I can't tell what it is, but I think your +mother has been hurt."</p> + +<p>He could not believe that anything serious had happened to his mother; +but when they alighted to walk across the boulevard he was quite as +eager to reach the house as she.</p> + +<p>The man at the door wore an expression of well-governed concern, which +led Leo to sharply ask: "What is it, Ferguson? What has happened?"</p> + +<p>"They have taken her, Miss."</p> + +<p>"Taken? Who? What? Who have taken her?"</p> + +<p>"The bailiff, Miss."</p> + +<p>"The bailiff?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss, the officers came with a warrant just as Mrs. Ollnee was +sitting down to luncheon, and it was ever as much as she could do to get +them to wait till she had finished. Mrs. Joyce has gone with her."</p> + +<p>Leo confronted Victor with large eyes. "That was the precise moment when +I had my sensation of alarm."</p> + +<p>Victor was white and rigid with indignation. "Where did they take her?"</p> + +<p>"To the Bond Street Station, sir. You are to come at once."</p> + +<p>"How do I get there?"</p> + +<p>"I'll show you," volunteered Leo. "Is the electric out, Ferguson?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think so, Miss."</p> + +<p>"Order it around at once." She turned to Victor. "Don't worry. Aunt +Louise is not easily rattled. She is able to command all the help that +is necessary. She will have her own lawyer and will see that everything +is done to shield your mother from harm."</p> + +<p>He was aching with remorseful fear. "Oh, if we had not stayed so long," +he groaned, all the beauty and charm of the morning swept away by a wave +of guilt. "Only think! I left the house without a word of greeting to +her! Doesn't it show that there is no peace or security for either of us +so long as we remain here? I have tried twice to get away from this, and +now—"</p> + +<p>The electric carriage came smoothly to the door, and Leo, dismissing the +driver, motioned Victor to enter. "I'll drive," she said; and they swept +out of the gate and down the boulevard as if, by a wafture of the hand, +this young girl had invoked the aid of an Oriental magician.</p> + +<p>The run was easy and swift, till they reached the crowded cross-street +which led westward into the city deeps; and as the carts thickened and +coarse and vicious humanity began to swarm Victor was moved to assert +the man's prerogative. He resented the admiring glances which the +loafers addressed to his companion, and a feeling of awkward +helplessness came upon him. "I wish you'd let me run this car," he said, +morosely.</p> + +<p>Slowly they felt their way to the west, straight on toward a great +railway depot, with Leo deftly winding her way amid trucks and express +wagons, darting past clanging street-cars, and plowing through swarms of +nondescript men and slattern women, till at last she halted on a +crossing, and, leaning from the window, inquired of the police officer +the way to the Bond Street Station.</p> + +<p>"Right around the corner, Miss," he replied, with a smile, pointing the +way with his club.</p> + +<p>She turned up a narrow alley which ran parallel with the great domed +shed of the railway, and drew up before an ugly doorway in a grimy brick +building of depressing architecture.</p> + +<p>Victor alighted with a full realization of having left heaven for a +filthy, squalid hell. The clang and hiss of engines in the shed, the jar +of heavy trucks, the cries of venders, the grind and howl of cars, the +sodden stream of humankind, deafened and appalled him. Nevertheless, he +took the lead into the gloomy anteroom of the station, which was half +filled with officers in uniform escorting or placidly watching +dull-hued, depressed, and unkempt men and women in arrest.</p> + +<p>On inquiry of another officer, they were directed to the door of a long +hall, which was in effect a tunnel. "You'll find your party in the +court-room," the officer said.</p> + +<p>Victor led the way through this battered hallway, and at the end of it +came into a large, bare room lighted with dusty windows on the north. It +was in effect a hall divided in halves by an open railing. In the +eastern end of the chamber the judge was seated surrounded by his clerks +examining a little group of silent men. In the western half of the room, +outside the railing, sat a somber and motley assemblage of negroes, +Italians, and Greeks, mostly young, each presenting a savage and sullen +face. In the midst of such a throng of miscreated beings Leo seemed of +angelic loveliness and purity.</p> + +<p>Before the crowd became aware of her, the keen-eyed girl had discovered +the objects of their search. "There they are," she whispered, pointing +to the corner at the judge's right, where Mrs. Joyce and Mrs. Ollnee +were seated, in close conversation with a dark, smoothly-shaven man of +middle age. "Oh, I'm so glad," she added, "Mr. Bartol is with them."</p> + +<p>She led the way, quite fearlessly, through the aisle and directly up to +the gate, where she was met by the bailiff, or warden of the room, a +sullen-faced, sloppy Irishman. He was too keen-eyed not to be +immediately impressed by her beauty and something strong and clear and +fine in her glance, but before he had time to ask her what she wanted +the gentleman whom she called Bartol came forward, and at his touch the +officer gave way respectfully, and the two young people entered the +inclosure.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee rose upon seeing Victor, and lifted her arms to his neck. +"Oh, I'm so glad you've come," she murmured, in deep relief.</p> + +<p>A rustle of profound interest passed over the court-room, and such +shuffling of feet and murmur of voices arose that the bailiff rapped +querulously on the railing with the handle of his mallet and glared, in +a vain effort to restore silence. Even the judge, accustomed as he was +to every phase of the human comedy, turned a sympathetic gaze upon the +girl. He was a middle-aged man, with a pale and sensitive careworn face, +and as he resumed his address to the men before him his gentle voice +could be heard above the roar of the street in grave reprimand. The +sodden convicts who stood unshaved and spiritless before him excited his +pity not his wrath.</p> + +<p>Victor sat down beside his mother, whispering, "What is it all about?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Bartol answered: "Pettus, the president of the People's Bank, has +absconded; the bank is closed, and your mother has been arrested for +complicity in his frauds."</p> + +<p>Victor understood almost instantly, for this was exactly what Carew had +warned him about on the night of his first dinner in Mrs. Joyce's house. +"What can we do?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Leave that to me," replied Bartol. "I will see that your mother is +protected."</p> + +<p>As they sat thus, waiting, while the judge disposed of a wife-beating +case, Victor thought of Altair and the mournful and exquisite smile with +which she had greeted him. What a frightful gulf gaped between these +savage and bestial men—these sullen, pinched, grimy, and malodorous +street-walkers, these sottish, half-human creatures, torn and bloody +with one another's claws—and the celestial vision which his mother, by +some inexplicable necromancy, had been able to create from the sunless +world of her magic! What a measureless stretch lay between this +clamorous, automatic, pitiless court (with its weary judge) and the +sunny bank beside the lagoon, whereon the birds were singing and where +he and Leo had so lately lain to gaze on the far horizon land of wedded +happiness and love!</p> + +<p>Upon his musing the sounding voice of the clerk broke. "<i>Thomas Aiken</i> +vs. <i>Lucile Ollnee.</i>"</p> + +<p>Led by Mr. Bartol, Mrs. Ollnee and Mrs. Joyce moved through the gate and +stood before the judge, while from the right the complainant and his +witnesses and his lawyer came to oppose them. Victor followed his mother +and stood at the extreme left, with Leo by his side. He had no care of +what the miserable spectators in the seats would think of them. He was +only concerned with the judge and the opposing counsel.</p> + +<p>Upon the motion of the clerk, the bailiff called out, "Hold up your +hands, everybody," and so they all, including even Leo, held up their +right hands and took the oath that what they were about to say would be +the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help them God.</p> + +<p>The judge, worn by the ceaseless stream of diseased, ineffectual, and +halting humanity passing daily before his eyes, gazed in surprise and +growing interest upon this group of handsome and well-dressed people +while the prosecuting attorney presented the claims of the complaining +witness, charging the defendant with conspiring to rob or defraud one, +Mary Aiken.</p> + +<p>"Where is Mrs. Aiken?" asked the judge.</p> + +<p>"She is too ill to appear, your honor," replied the prosecuting +attorney, "but her granddaughter is here prepared to give in detail the +story of how the defendant, who professes to be a medium, induced her +aged and infirm grandmother to withdraw her money from certain +investments in her native town and put them into the hands of +another—namely, the absconding president of the People's Bank, thereby +impoverishing her. Thomas Aiken, the complainant, charges that the said +defendant, Lucile Ollnee, has by her uncanny powers obtained large sums +of money, and that she should be punished as a swindler."</p> + +<p>The judge studied the faces of the witnesses before him, then asked, +"What have you to say to this, Mrs. Ollnee?"</p> + +<p>"It is false," she replied.</p> + +<p>The prosecution put in a word. "You will not deny that you advised these +investments?"</p> + +<p>"I advised nothing," she retorted. "What my controls advised I only know +in a general way."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by 'controls'?" inquired the judge.</p> + +<p>"I am a spirit medium, and sometimes a trance medium," she replied, +facing him steadily. "Those whom men call the dead speak through me."</p> + +<p>"In what way?"</p> + +<p>"Partly by writing, partly by means of voices."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that the dead speak in voices audible to others than +yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, your honor, they often speak so loud that any one may hear them. +For the most part they whisper."</p> + +<p>The prosecution again struck in. "These voices are a part of the trick, +a part of her method of luring her victims on to do her will."</p> + +<p>The judge turned to the complainant, Thomas Aiken, a dark-faced, sullen +young man. "Have you heard these voices, Mr. Aiken?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; I never had a séance; but my sister has had a number of +interviews with this woman. I know that in spite of the advice of her +friends my grandmother has been induced to give away her money to this +woman and to that scoundrel, Pettus. We have been robbed by her. It +amounts to that, and we intend to stop it."</p> + +<p>The judge turned back to Mrs. Ollnee. "Do you wish to be tried here and +now on this charge?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Bartol interposed. "No, your honor, we do not. This case is a very +peculiar one. My client is a lady, as you may see, and should never have +been brought into this court in this fashion. That she is a medium is +probably true; but there is no evidence of deceit on her part. She +assures me of her absolute faith in these Voices, and her manner carries +conviction. Her friends believe in her also. She claims to be nothing +more than the means of communication between this world and the world of +the dead."</p> + +<p>The judge smiled faintly. "That is claiming a good deal—from my point +of view. What have you to say to that?" he demanded, turning again to +the complainants.</p> + +<p>A clear, low, musical voice, the voice of a young woman, answered, "The +case is not uncommon, your honor."</p> + +<p>Victor, craning his head forward, found himself looking directly into +the big, intense black eyes of the girl he had rebuffed on the stairway +the first day of his stay. She was vivid, intense, and very indignant as +she said: "The woman pretends to be possessed of the power of +communication with the dead, and by her arts she convinced my +grandmother that her dead husband wished the withdrawal of her money +from a bank in Moline, and that he recommended its investment in this +traction company. She played remorselessly upon the most sacred emotions +of my poor old grandmother, and I have evidence to prove that this +advice has been a part of a general scheme whereby this traction +company, a fake concern, has been able to delude other credulous souls."</p> + +<p>As she paused her lawyer said, wearily: "It is a plain case of +swindling, your honor, and we desire to press the case to its limit at +once, for Pettus cannot be found, and we fear the flight of the +defendant."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bartol spoke suavely. "Your honor, it is not 'a plain case of +swindling.' Mrs. Ollnee is the personal friend of Mrs. John H. Joyce, +whose name you know very well. It is true that messages were given +advising the investment of funds in the traction company, but not only +has this advice been followed by Mrs. Joyce, but by the defendant +herself, who has kept all her own small savings in the same bank."</p> + +<p>The judge turned to Mrs. Ollnee. "Is this true?"</p> + +<p>"It is, your honor."</p> + +<p>The judge spoke to Mrs. Joyce. "You believe in this woman's Voices?"</p> + +<p>"I do."</p> + +<p>"Yet they have advised you to put your money into the hands of a +swindler."</p> + +<p>"Her Voices seem to have done this, yes, sir; but she herself has never +advised in any way."</p> + +<p>"You distinguish between the Voices of your friend and her own +personality, do you?"</p> + +<p>"I do, yes, sir."</p> + +<p>The prosecuting attorney inserted a sneering word. "Your honor, Mrs. +Joyce is known to be credulous and under the influence of this +trickster. She is not a competent witness. She has permitted herself to +be deluded to the point where she will not believe anything ill of her +medium. Thomas Aiken is not the only one ready to press this charge +against the defendant. Four others to my knowledge stand ready to +testify to this woman's uncanny power for deluding and defrauding. My +client finds herself stripped of her little fortune and helpless in her +declining years. The acting of this medium is criminal, and we demand +that she be punished."</p> + +<p>The judge turned his musing eyes upon Mrs. Ollnee's pale face. "Have you +anything further to say, Mrs. Ollnee?"</p> + +<p>"I have never been guilty of any deception, your honor. I claim no +wisdom for myself. If it is true that the traction company is a fraud, +then it must be that lying spirits have spoken impersonating my husband +and my father."</p> + +<p>"That is a subterfuge," interposed the young woman, Miss Aiken. "She is +responsible for her Voices."</p> + +<p>"You accept money for your services, do you not?" the judge asked of +Mrs. Ollnee.</p> + +<p>"Not now, no sir."</p> + +<p>"Did you formerly?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, after my husband died, I was forced to do so in order to +educate my son."</p> + +<p>"Is this your son?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>The judge addressed himself to Victor. "What do you know of your +mother's power as a medium? Do you share her faith?"</p> + +<p>Victor felt the burning eyes of the angry girl upon him as he replied: +"I know very little about it, your honor. I have been away to school +ever since I was ten years old."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Joyce, you are a believer in Mrs. Ollnee's powers?"</p> + +<p>"I am, a firm believer."</p> + +<p>"You've had no reason to doubt the genuineness of these messages?"</p> + +<p>"Up to the present time I have not."</p> + +<p>"You will lose heavily in this traction swindle, if it is a swindle, +will you not?"</p> + +<p>"If it has failed, yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"Does that shake your faith in the medium?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the slightest, your honor. It is a well-known fact that lying +spirits sometimes interpose."</p> + +<p>During this interrogation, which had proceeded in conversational tone, +they had all remained standing before the judge, whose speculative eyes +wandered from face to face with growing interest. At last he said to the +prosecuting attorney: "From your own statement of it, this case is not +to be tried here. I do not feel myself competent at this time to pass +upon the questions involved."</p> + +<p>"She shall not escape," said Miss Aiken, with bitter menace.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bartol interposed. "We demand a trial by jury, your honor."</p> + +<p>"You shall have it," responded the judge.</p> + +<p>The Aikens withdrew sullenly, and the bailiff indicated that the +defendant and her party might retire to an inner office while papers +were being prepared; and this they did. This room proved to be a bare, +bleak place, with benches and yellow wooden chairs, as ugly as a country +railway station, wherein a few officers were carelessly lounging about. +They all gazed curiously at Mrs. Ollnee and Leo, and one of them +muttered to the other, "It's not often that a classy bunch like that +comes into court."</p> + +<p>The indignity of it all caused Leo to forget her own share in the +traction company's failure. "It is shameful that you should be dragged +here," she said, when the door closed behind them.</p> + +<p>"Leo!" cried Mrs. Ollnee, in agonized voice. "Do you realize that this +failure means almost as much of a loss to you as it does to Louise?"</p> + +<p>This affected the girl only for an instant. Then she loyally said: +"Yes, I know. But I do not blame you for it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee turned to her son. "If all they say is true, Victor, we are +the victims of some lying devils—"</p> + +<p>Leo soothingly laid her hand on her arm. "Let us not think about that +just now. Let us wait until we are safely out of this dreadful place."</p> + +<p>Victor perceived that his mother was shaken to the very deeps of her +faith. She was trembling with excitement and weakness, and his anxiety +deepened into a fear that she might faint. "There are devils here," she +whispered. "I feel them all about me—bestial, horrible—take me away!"</p> + +<p>"Can't we go now?" he asked of the officer, who seemed to have an eye on +them. "My mother is not well."</p> + +<p>"Wait till the bail is fixed up," the officer replied, pleasantly but +inexorably.</p> + +<p>They remained in silence till Mrs. Joyce and Mr. Bartol appeared. Then +Victor hurried his mother out into the street, eager to escape the +desolating air of this moral charnel-house. It was by no means a +perfectly pure atmosphere without, but it was fresher than within, and +Mrs. Ollnee revived almost instantly. "Oh, the swarms of unclean spirits +in there!" she said, looking back with a face of horror.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce put her into the car with Leo and told them to go directly +home, while she, with Victor, took Mr. Bartol to his office. Victor, +stunned by the new and crushing blow which had fallen upon him, turned +to the great lawyer with a boy's trust and admiration. "What can we do?" +he asked, as soon as they had taken their seats in the car.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bartol did not attempt to make light of the case. His dark, strong +face was very grave as he answered: "For the present we can do very +little beyond getting our bearings. It seems to me at the moment as +though the whole question hinged upon the possibility of dual +personality, and so far as I am concerned, I have no mind upon that +matter. I must give it attention before I can reply. Our immediate +concern is to keep your mother from further trouble and assault. If, as +the prosecution stated, there are others in this fight, they and the +press can make it very unpleasant for you all. Miss Florence Aiken has a +powerful and vindictive pen. She will not cease her persecution—for she +is at the bottom of the case."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce turned to him with eager face. "I wish you would invite Mrs. +Ollnee and her son up to your farm for a few days."</p> + +<p>"I do so with pleasure. I am going up to-night on the eight-o'clock +train, and I shall be very glad to have them go with me, if they care to +do so. We can then talk the whole case over at our leisure and in quiet. +Perhaps you can run up and stay over Sunday with us."</p> + +<p>"That is the very thing," she responded; "and I'm very grateful to you."</p> + +<p>Again Victor felt himself helpless, whirling along in a stream of alien +purpose like a leaf in a mountain torrent, and again he abandoned +himself to its sweep. "I will do anything to get away from here," he +replied.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bartol went on: "Your mother's case will not come up for some days, +and the rest and quiet of the farm will do you both good." To Mrs. Joyce +he added, privately: "The whole matter interests me vastly. I don't at +all mind giving some time to it, and, besides, I like the young man."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce dropped the lawyer at his office door and sped homeward +swiftly, with intent to overtake Leo. She did not attempt to conceal her +anxiety. "The truth is, Victor, Pettus and his friends called into our +circle a throng of wicked, deceiving spirits. They were not what they +claimed to be. They were cheats, and they have almost ruined us. Your +poor, sweet mother is not to blame, and I can't blame the Aikens. What I +cannot understand is this—Why did your father and his band permit these +treacherous personalities to intervene? Why did they not defend her from +these demons?"</p> + +<p>Victor listened to her with a complete reversal to disbelief as regards +his mother's mediumship. He forgot the marvels of the direct writing, +the mighty murmuring wind, the dream-face of Altair; all these +insubstantial and evanescent perceptions were lost, submerged by the +returning sea of his doubt. He saw, too, that Leo's faith was shaken. He +felt it beneath her brave-spoken words. The whole question of the +process, as well as the content of the messages, was reopened for her. +His situation grew ever darker. His way was again blocked. He could not +leave his mother to her fate, and yet he could not see his way to +earning a cent of money while this horrible accusation was hanging over +her. He acknowledged, too, a very definite feeling of sympathy with +those who had been defrauded. There was moral indignation in Miss +Aiken's tremulous eagerness to punish. "She's not to blame," he said. +"I'd do exactly as she is doing if I were in her place."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2> + +<h3>A VISIT TO HAZEL GROVE</h3> + + +<p>Bartol, attended by porters and greeted by conductors and brakemen, led +the way to the parlor-car in a stern abstraction, which was his habit. +Victor studied him closely and with growing admiration. He was not tall, +but his head was nobly formed and his broad mask of face lion-like in +its somber dreaming. In repose it was sad, almost bitter, and in profile +clear-cut and resolute. His dress was singularly tasteful and orderly, +with nothing of the careless celebrity in its color or cut, and yet no +one would accuse him of being the dandy. He was naturally of this +method, and gave little direct thought to toilet or dress.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee looked upon him as her rescuer, one who had snatched her +from loathsome captivity; but his manner did not invite repeated and +profuse thanks. With a few words of polite explanation, he took a seat +behind his wards, unfolded his newspaper, and forgot them till the +conductor came through the car; then he remembered them and paid their +fares.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee was not merely awed by his powerful visage and searching +eyes; she was profoundly stirred by some psychic influence which +emanated from him. She whispered to Victor: "He is very sad. He is all +alone. He has lost his wife and both his children. He has no hope, and +often feels like leaving this life."</p> + +<p>Victor did not take this communication as a "psychometric reading," for +he had been able to discern almost as much with his own eyes, and, +besides, all of its definite information Mrs. Joyce might have +furnished; but his mother added something that startled him. She said: +"The Voices say, '<i>Obey this man; study him. He will raise you high!</i>'"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she replied. "That is the way I hear it. I hear other +Voices—they say to me, '<i>Comfort him.</i>'"</p> + +<p>Victor was not in a mood for "voices," and cut her short by asking in +detail about her arrest. "Who came for you? A policeman?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but not in uniform. They were very nice about it. At first I was +terribly frightened. I was afraid I should have to go in the +patrol-wagon, but we were allowed to ride in the car, the policeman +sitting with the driver—"</p> + +<p>Victor groaned. "Oh, mother, why did you give out <i>business</i> advice!"</p> + +<p>"I gave what was given to me," she responded.</p> + +<p>"Think of the disgrace of being in that court-room!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mind the disgrace," she replied; "but it swarmed with horrible +spirits. Each one of those poor criminals had a cloud of other base, +distorted, half-formed creatures hovering about him. It was like being +in a cage with a host of obscene bats fluttering about." She shuddered. +"It was horrible! It was a sweet relief when you and Leo came, for a new +and happy band came with you. You helped my band drive away the cloud of +low beings that oppressed me; and now there is something calming and +serenely helpful all about me. It comes from Mr. Bartol. I am no longer +afraid; I am perfectly serene."</p> + +<p>Victor made no attempt at elucidating her exact meaning; there was +something depressing to him in this continued dependence upon spirit +guidance, a guidance that had led them into so much trouble and +discredit. He sat by the window, watching the faintly-outlined moonlit +landscape flowing past, feeling himself to be a very small insect riding +on the chariot of the king of tempests, with no power to check the speed +or direct the course of his inflexible driver. His own future was but a +flutter of vague shadows, his boyhood a serene, sun-warm meadow, now +swiftly receding into the darkness of night. Would anything so beautiful +ever come again?</p> + +<p>His mother, sitting as if entranced, was looking down at her folded +hands, her brow unlined; but a plaintive droop in the lines of her +sensitive mouth told that she was wearied and secretly disheartened.</p> + +<p>"Poor little mother!" he said, laying a hand on her arm, "you are +tired."</p> + +<p>The tears came to her eyes, but she smiled back radiantly. "I don't care +what comes, if only you believe in me," she said, simply; and he took +her hand in both of his and pressed it like a lover.</p> + +<p>At last Mr. Bartol folded his paper and put away his glasses. "Well, we +are nearing Hazel Grove," he announced, smilingly. "It's only a little +village, a meeting of cross-roads, but I think you'll like the country; +it's the fine old rolling prairie of which you've heard."</p> + +<p>The moon was riding high as they alighted from the coach upon the +platform of a low, wooden station in the midst of green fields. A clump +of trees, and the lights in dimly discerned houses, gave only a faint +suggestion of a town; but an open carriage was waiting for them, and +entering this, they were driven away into the most delicious and +fragrant silence.</p> + +<p>Instantly the last trace of Victor's anger and unrest fell away from +him. Of this simple quality had been the scenes of his life at school. +In such peace and serenity his earlier years had been spent; indeed, all +his life, save for the few tumultuous days in the city—and he was +immediately restored and comforted by the sounds, sights, and odors of +the superb spring night.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it glorious!" he cried. "I feel as if I were reaching God's +country again."</p> + +<p>The swiftly stepping horses whirled them up the street through a bunch +of squat buildings and out along a gently rising lane to the south. Ten +minutes later the driver turned into a large, tree-shaded drive, and +over a curving graveled drive approached a spreading white house, whose +porticos shone pleasantly in the moonlight. A row of lighted windows +glowed with hospitable intent, and tall vases of flowers showed dimly.</p> + +<p>"Here we are!" called Mr. Bartol, with genial cordiality. "Welcome to +Hazeldean."</p> + +<p>To dismount before this wide porch in the midst of the small innumerable +voices of the night was like living out some delicious romance. To come +to it from the reek and threat of the court-room made its serene expanse +a heavenly refuge, and the beleaguered mother paused for a moment at the +door to look back upon the lawn, where opulent elms and maples dreamed +in the odorless gloom. "I have never seen anything so peaceful," she +breathed. "Only heavenly souls inhabit here."</p> + +<p>The interior was equally restful and reassuring. Large rooms with simple +and substantial furnishings led away from a short entrance hall. The +ceilings were low and dark, and the lamps shaded. Books were everywhere +to be seen, many of them piled carelessly convenient to lights and +chairs, as if it were both library and living-room.</p> + +<p>The first word Victor spoke related to the books, and Mr. Bartol replied +with a smile.</p> + +<p>"They are not especially well chosen. I fear you'll find them a mixed +lot. I read nothing but law in the city—here I indulge my fancy. You'll +wonder what my principle of selection is, and, if you ask me, I must +answer—I haven't any. I buy whatever commends itself to me at the +moment. One thing leads to another—romance to history, history to +poetry, poetry to the drama, and so on." He greeted a very tidy maid who +entered the room. "Good-evening, Marie. This is Mrs. Ollnee, and this is +her son, Mr. Victor Ollnee. Please see that they are made comfortable." +Then again to his guests. "You must be tired."</p> + +<p>"I am so, Mr. Bartol," replied Mrs. Ollnee, "and if you'll pardon me +I'll go to my room."</p> + +<p>"Certainly—and you may go, too, if you feel like it," he said to +Victor.</p> + +<p>"I am not sleepy," replied Victor.</p> + +<p>"Very well," replied his host. "Be seated and we'll discuss the +situation for a few minutes."</p> + +<p>He led the way to a corner where two wide windows opening on the lawn +made delicious mingling of night air and study light, and offering his +guest a cigar, took a seat, saying: "I run out here whenever the city +becomes a burden. I find I need just such a corrective to the intense +life of the city. It is my rule to give no thought to legal troubles +while I am here; hence the absence of codes and all legal literature. +You are a college man, Mrs. Joyce tells me."</p> + +<p>"I was at Winona last Saturday, and expected to stay there till June, +when I was due to graduate. Then the devil broke loose, and here I am. +When will my mother's case come up?"</p> + +<p>"Not for some weeks, I fear. If you wish to return to your studies we +can arrange that."</p> + +<p>"No. I'm done with school. I'm only worried about my mother. What do you +think of her case, Mr. Bartol?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not informed sufficiently to say," he replied, slowly. "The whole +subject of hypnotic control seems to be involved. I must know more of +your mother before I can even hazard an opinion. The theories of +suggestion are all rather vague to me. I have only what might be called +a newspaper knowledge of them; but I have some information as to your +mother's profession I gained from my friend Mrs. Joyce, so that I am not +entirely uninformed. Besides, it is a lawyer's business to know +everything, and I shall at once proceed to bore into the subject."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee returning brought him to his feet in graceful acknowledgment +of her sex, and placing a chair for her, he said, "I hope you don't mind +tobacco."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," she replied, quite as graciously.</p> + +<p>He placed a chair for her so that the light fell upon her face, and she +knew that he intended to study her as if she were a page of strange +text.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you like it here," he said, in answer to her repeated +admiration of his home, "for I suspect you'll have to stay here for the +present. The city is passing through one of those moral paroxysms which +come once in a year or two. Last year it was the social evil; just now +it concerns itself with what the reformers are pleased to call 'the +occult fakers.' The feeling of a jury would be against you at present, +and as I have promised Mrs. Joyce to take charge of your defense, I +think it well for you to go into retirement here while I take time to +inform myself of the case."</p> + +<p>"I do not like to trouble you."</p> + +<p>"It is no trouble, my dear madam. Here is this big home, empty and +completely manned. A couple of guests, especially a hearty young man, +will be a godsend to my cook. She complains of not having men to feed. +Don't let any question of expense to me trouble you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you most deeply."</p> + +<p>"Don't thank me; thank Louise Joyce, who is both client and friend, and +the one to whom I owe this pleasure." He bowed. "I never before had the +opportunity of entertaining a 'psychic,' and I welcome the +opportunity."</p> + +<p>She did not quite know how to take him, and neither did Victor; and +perceiving that doubt, Bartol added: "I am quite sincere in all this. I +hear a good deal, obscurely, of this curious phase of human life, but +never before have I been confronted by one who claims the power of +divination."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, sir, I do not claim such power."</p> + +<p>"Do you not! I thought that was precisely your claim."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I am a medium. I report what is given to me. I divine nothing +of myself. I am an instrument through which those whom men call 'the +dead' speak."</p> + +<p>"I see," he mused. "I will not deceive you," he began again, very +gravely. "This charge against you is likely to prove serious, and you +must be quite frank with me. I may require a test of your powers."</p> + +<p>"I am at your service, sir. Make any test of me you please—this moment +if you like."</p> + +<p>"I will not require anything of you to-night. Writers tell me that +'mediums' are a dark, elusive, and uncanny set, Mrs. Ollnee, and I must +confess that you upset my preconceptions."</p> + +<p>"There are all kinds of mediums, as there are all kinds of lawyers, Mr. +Bartol. I am human, like the others."</p> + +<p>"If you will permit me, I will take up your defense along the lines of +hypnotic control on the part of this man Pettus."</p> + +<p>"I cannot presume to advise you, sir, but you must know that to me these +Voices come from the spirit world. I am the transmitter merely—for +instance, at this moment I hear a Voice and I see behind you the form of +a lady, a lovely young woman—"</p> + +<p>"Mother!" called Victor, warningly. "Don't start in on that!"</p> + +<p>"Proceed," said Bartol; "I am interested."</p> + +<p>The psychic, leaning forward slightly, fixed her wide, deep-blue eyes +upon him. "The maid conducted me to the room which had been your wife's, +but I could not stay there. This lady who stands beside you took me by +the hand and led me away to another room. She is nodding at me now."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean the maid led you from the room?"</p> + +<p>"No, I mean the spirit now standing behind you led me here. She says her +name is Margaret Bartol. She said: '<i>Comfort my dear husband. Restore +his faith.</i>' She is smiling at me. She wants me to go on."</p> + +<p>Bartol's face remained inscrutably calm. "Where does the form seem to +be?"</p> + +<p>"At your right shoulder. She says, '<i>Tell him Walter and Hattie are both +with me.</i>' She listened a moment. She says, '<i>Tell him Walter's mind is +perfectly clear now.</i>'"</p> + +<p>Victor thought he saw the lawyer start in surprise, but his voice was +cold as he said, "Go on."</p> + +<p>"She says: '<i>Tell him the way is open. I am here. Ask him to speak to +me.</i>'"</p> + +<p>Bartol then spoke, but his tone plainly showed that he was testing his +client's hallucination and not addressing himself to the imaginary +ghost. "Are you there, Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Yes</i>," came the answer, clearly though faintly.</p> + +<p>The renowned lawyer gazed at the medium with eyes that burned deep, and +presently he asked, "What have you to say to me?"</p> + +<p>Again came the clear, silvery whisper: "<i>Much. Trust the medium. She +will comfort you.</i>"</p> + +<p>Victor thrilled to the importance of this moment, and much as he feared +for his mother's success, he could not but admire the courage which +blazed in her steady eyes. She was no longer afraid of this mighty man +of the law, to whom heaven and hell were obsolete words. She was +panoplied with the magic and mystery of death, and waited calmly for him +to continue.</p> + +<p>At last he said: "Go on. I am listening."</p> + +<p>Again through the flower-scented, silent room the sibilant voice stole +its way. "<i>Father.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Who is speaking?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Margaret.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Margaret? What Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Your 'rascal' Peggy.</i>"</p> + +<p>Bartol certainly started at this reply, which conveyed an expression of +mirth, but his questions continued formal.</p> + +<p>"What is your will with me?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Mamma is here—and Walter.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Can they speak?"</p> + +<p>"<i>They will try.</i>"</p> + +<p>Again silence fell upon the room—a silence so profound that every +insect's stir was a rude interruption. At length another whisper, +clearer, louder, made itself heard: "<i>Alexander, be happy. I live.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Your wife.</i>"</p> + +<p>"You say so. Can you prove your identity?"</p> + +<p>The whisper grew fainter. "<i>I will try. It is hard. Good-by.</i>"</p> + +<p>Bartol raised his hand to his head with a gesture of surprise. "I +thought I felt a touch on my hair."</p> + +<p>"The lady touched you as she passed away," Mrs. Ollnee explained. "She +has gone. They are all gone now."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," he said, in polite disappointment. "I wanted to pursue the +interrogation. Is this the usual method of your communications?"</p> + +<p>"This is one way. They write sometimes, and sometimes they speak through +a megaphone; sometimes they materialize a face or a hand."</p> + +<p>He remained in profound thought for a few moments, then starting up, +spoke with decision: "You are tired. Go to bed. We'll have plenty of +time to take up these matters to-morrow. Please feel at home here and +stay as long as you wish."</p> + +<p>A little later he took Victor to his room, and as they stood there he +remarked, "Of course, all this may be and probably is mind-reading and +ventriloquism—subconscious, of course."</p> + +<p>"But the writing," said Victor. "You must see that. That is the weirdest +thing she does. It is baffling."</p> + +<p>"My boy, the whole universe is baffling to me," his host replied, and +into his voice came that tone of tragic weariness which affected the +youth like a strain of solemn music. "The older I grow the more +senseless, hopelessly senseless, human life appears; but I must not say +such things to you. Good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night," responded Victor, with swelling throat. "We owe you a +great deal."</p> + +<p>"Don't speak of it!" the lawyer commanded, and closed the door behind +him.</p> + +<p>Victor dropped into a chair. What a day this had been! Within +twenty-four hours he had seen and loved the dream-face of Altair and had +been blown upon by the winds from the vast chill and empty regions of +space. He had resented Leo's voice in the night, but had returned to her +in the light of the morning. On the dreamy lagoon he had been her lover +again, pulling at the oar with savage joy, and on the grass in the +sunlight he had been the man unafraid and victorious. Then came the +hurried return, the visit to the court, the rescue of his mother—and +here now he lay in the charity bed of his mother's lawyer! "Truly I am +being hurried," he said; and recalling Miss Aiken's final menacing +remark, he added: "And if that girl and her brother can do it mother +will be sent to prison." Much as he feared these accusing witnesses, he +acknowledged a kind of fierce beauty in Florence Aiken's face.</p> + +<p>As he lay thus, thinking deeply yet drowsily upon his problems, he heard +a faint ticking sound beneath his head. It was too regular and +persistent to be a chance creaking of the cloth, and he rose and shook +the pillow to dislodge the insect which he imagined might have flown in +at the window.</p> + +<p>The ticking continued. "I wonder if that <i>is</i> a fly?"</p> + +<p>The ticking seemed to reply, "No," by means of one decided rap. To test +it, he asked, "Are you a spirit?"</p> + +<p>The tick counted one, two, three—"<i>Yes.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Some one to speak to me?"</p> + +<p><i>Tick, tick, tick</i>—"Yes."</p> + +<p>The answer was so plainly intelligent that the boy, silent with +amazement, not unmixed with fear, lay for a few minutes in puzzled +inaction. At length he asked, "Who is it—Father?"</p> + +<p>"Tick"—No.</p> + +<p>"<i>Grandfather?</i>"</p> + +<p>"<i>No.</i>"</p> + +<p>He hesitated before asking the next question. "Is it Altair?"</p> + +<p>"<i>No.</i>"</p> + +<p>He thought again. "Is it Walter Bartol?"</p> + +<p>The answer was joyously instant. "<i>Yes, yes, yes!</i>"</p> + +<p>"Do you wish to speak to me?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Yes.</i>"</p> + +<p>"About your father?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Yes.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Through my mother?"</p> + +<p>Now came one of those baffling changes. The answer was faintly slow, +"Tick, tick," betraying uncertainty—and succeeding queries elicited no +response.</p> + +<p>Victor, excited and eager, would have gone to his mother for aid had he +known where to find her room. The mood for marvels was upon him now, and +Altair and Margaret, and all the rest of the impalpable throng, seemed +waiting in the dusk and silence to communicate with him. Hopelessly wide +awake, he lay, while the big clock on the landing rang its little chime +upon the quarter hours, but no further sign was given him of the +presence of his intangible visitor; and at last the experience of the +day became as unsubstantial as his dreams.</p> + +<p>He was awakened by the cackling of fowls and the bleating of calves and +lambs. The sun was shining through the leafy top of a tree which lay +almost against his window, and happy shadows were dancing like fairies +on the coverlet of his bed.</p> + +<p>"It sounds like a real farm!" he drowsily murmured, filled with the +peace of those cries, which typify the most ancient and unchanging parts +of the cottager's life.</p> + +<p>He had known only the poetic side of farm life. He had seen it, heard +it, tasted it only as the lad out for a holiday, and it all seemed +serene and joyous to him. To his mind the luxury of quietly dozing to +the music of a barn-yard was the natural habit of the farmer. He did not +attempt to rise till he heard the voice of his host from the lawn +beneath his window.</p> + +<p>A half an hour later he found Bartol in the barn-yard surveying a span +of colts which his farmer was leading back and forth before him. They +were lanky, thin-necked creatures, but Victor knew enough of horses to +perceive in them signs of a famous breed of trotters.</p> + +<p>"You are a real farmer," he said, as he came up to his host.</p> + +<p>Bartol seemed pleased. "I made it pay five per cent. last year," he +responded, with pride. "Of course that means counting in my time as a +farmer, and not as a lawyer. How did you sleep?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty well—when I got at it. I was a little excited and didn't go off +as I usually do when I hit the pillow."</p> + +<p>"No wonder! I had a restless night myself." He nodded to the hostler. +"That will do," and turned away. "I gave a great deal of thought to your +mother's case. The fact seems to be that the human organism is a great +deal more complicated than we're permitted ourselves to admit, and the +tendency of the ordinary man is to make the habitual commonplace, no +matter how profoundly mysterious it may be at the outset. Of course at +bottom we know very little of the most familiar phenomenon. Why does +fire burn and water run? No one really knows."</p> + +<p>They were facing the drive, which curved like a lilac ribbon through the +green of the lawn, and the estate to Victor's eyes had all the charm of +a park combined with the suggestive music of a farmstead.</p> + +<p>"It's beautiful here!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you like it, and I hope you and your mother will stay till we +have put you both straight with the world."</p> + +<p>"If I could only do something to pay my freight, Mr. Bartol. I feel like +a beggar and a fool to be so helpless. I was not expecting to be kicked +out of college, and I'm pretty well rattled, I'll confess."</p> + +<p>"You keep your poise notably," the lawyer replied, with kindly glance. +"To be so suddenly introduced to the mystery and the chicanery of the +world would bewilder an older and less emotional man."</p> + +<p>They breakfasted in a big room filled with the sunlight. Through the +open windows the scent of snowy flowers drifted, and the food and +service were of a sort that Victor had never seen. A big grape-fruit, +filled with sugar and berries; corn-cakes, crisp and golden; bacon +delicately broiled, together with eggs (baked in little earthen cups), +and last of all, coffee of such fragrance that it seemed to vie with the +odor of the flowers without. Each delicious dish was served deftly, +quietly, by a sweet-faced maid, who seemed to feel a filial interest in +her master.</p> + +<p>The service was a revelation of the perfection to which country life can +be brought by one who has both wealth and culture; and Victor wondered +that any one could be sad amid such radiant surroundings.</p> + +<p>"I can't see why you ever return to the city," he said, with conviction.</p> + +<p>Bartol smiled. "That's the perversity of our human nature. If I were +forced to live here all the time the farm might pall upon me, just as if +all seasons were spring. As it is, I come back to it from the turmoil of +the town with never-cloying appetite. Per contra, these maids and my +farm-hands find a visit to the city their keenest delight. To them the +parks and the artificial ponds are more beautiful than anything in +nature." His tone changed. "In truth, I live on and do my work more from +force of habit than from zest. So far as I can, I get back to the simple +animal existence, where sun and air and food are the never-failing +pleasures. I try to forget that I am a pursuer of criminals. I return to +my work in the city, as I say, because it helps to keep my appetite for +the rural things. I can't afford to let silence and green trees pall +upon me. If I were a little more of a believer," he smiled, "I would say +that you and your mother had been sent to me, for of late I have been in +a deeper slough of despair than at any time since the death of my wife. +I am curious to see how all this is going to affect your mother. She may +find it very lonely here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm sure she will not."</p> + +<p>"Well, now, I must be off. But before I go I will show you the +catalogues of my library; and perhaps I can bring home some books which +will bear on these occult subjects. I have given orders that no +information as to you shall go off the place; and your mother is safe +here. You may read, or hoe in the garden, or ride a horse."</p> + +<p>"I wish I might go to the city with you."</p> + +<p>"My judgment is against it. Stay here for a few days till we see which +way the wind is blowing." And with a cheery wave of his hand he drove +away, leaving Victor on the porch with the feeling of being marooned on +an island—a peaceful and beautiful island, but an island nevertheless.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2> + +<h3>LOVE'S TRANSLATION</h3> + + +<p>To tell the truth, Victor dreaded being left alone with his mother in +this way. He was fully aware now of the invisible barrier between them. +No matter what explanation was finally offered, she could never be the +same to him again, for whether it was her subconscious self which had +cunningly lured them all to the verge of disaster, or some +uncontrollable impulse coming from without, in the light any +explanation, she was no longer the sweet, gentle, normal mother he had +hitherto thought her to be.</p> + +<p>It was not a question of being in possession of strange abilities, it +was a question of being obsessed by some diabolical power—of being the +prey of malignant demons avid to destroy.</p> + +<p>The more deeply he thought upon all that had come to him, the more +bewildered he became; and to avoid this tumult, which brought no result, +he went out and wandered about the farm. His experience was like +visiting a foreign country, for the men were either Swiss or German; and +the walls of the farm-yard quite as un-American in their massiveness +and their formal arrangement—a vivid contrast to the flimsy structures +of the neighboring village. The servants (that is what they were, +servants) treated him with the trained deference of those who for +generations have touched their caps to the more fortunate beings of the +earth, and these signs of subordination were distinctly soothing to the +youth's disturbed condition of mind. Instantly, and without effort, he +assumed the air of the young aristocrat they thought him.</p> + +<p>He strolled down the road to the village, which was a collection of +small frame cottages in neat lawns, surrounding a few general stores and +a greasy, fly-specked post-office. Here was the unimaginative, the +prosaic, perfectly embodied. Old men, bent and gray, were gossiping from +benches and boxes under the awnings. Clerks in their shirt-sleeves were +lolling over counters. A few farmers' teams stood at the iron +hitching-posts with drowsy, low-hanging heads. Neither doubt nor dismay +nor terror had footing here. The majesty of dawn, the mystery of +midnight, did not touch these peaceful and phlegmatic souls. The spirit +of man was to them less than an abstraction and the tumult of the city a +far-off roar as of distant cataracts.</p> + +<p>Furthermore, these matter-of-fact folk had abundant curiosity and no +reverence, and they all stared at Victor with round, absorbent gaze, as +if with candid intent to take full invoice of his clothing, and to know +him again in any disguise. He heard them say, one after the other, as he +passed along, "Visitor of Bartol's, I guess." And he could understand +that this explanation really explained, for Bartol's "Castle" was the +resting-place of many strange birds of passage.</p> + +<p>Bartol was, indeed, the constant marvel of Hazel Grove. Why had he +bought the place? Why, after it was bought, should he spend so much +money on it? And finally, why should he employ "foreigners"? These were +a few of the queries which were put and answered and debated in the +shade of the furniture store and around the air-tight store of the +grocery. His farm was their never-failing wonder tale. The building of a +new wall was an excitement, each whitewashing of a picket fence an +event. They knew precisely the hour of departure of each blooded ram or +bull, and the birth of each colt was discussed as if another son and +heir had come to the owner.</p> + +<p>Naturally, therefore, all visitors to "Hazeldean" came in for study and +comment—especially because it was well known that Bartol stood high in +the political councils of the party (was indeed mentioned for senator), +and that his guests were likely to be "some punkins" in the world. "This +young feller is liable to be the son of one of his millionaire clients," +was the comment of the patient sitters. "Husky chap, ain't he?"</p> + +<p>Feeling something of this comment, and sensing also the sleepy +materialism of the inhabitants, Victor regained much of his own +disbelief in the miraculous, and yet just to that degree did the pain in +his heart increase, for it made of his mother something so monstrous +that the conception threatened all his love and reverence for her. Pity +sprang up in place of the filial affection he had once known. He began +to make new excuses for her. "It must be that she has become so +suggestible that every sitter's mind governs her. In a sense, that +removes her responsibility." And so he walked back, with all his +pleasure in the farm and village eaten up by his care.</p> + +<p>His mother was waiting for him on the porch, and as he came up, asked +with shining face:</p> + +<p>"Isn't this heavenly, Victor?"</p> + +<p>"It is very beautiful," he replied, but with less enthusiasm than she +expected.</p> + +<p>"To think that yesterday I was threatened with the prison, and +now—this! We have much to thank Mr. Bartol for."</p> + +<p>"That's just it, mother. What claim have we on this big, busy man? What +right have we to sit here?"</p> + +<p>The brightness of her face dimmed a little, but she replied bravely: "I +have always paid my way, Victor, and I am sure last night's message +meant much to Mr. Bartol. I always help people. If I bring back a belief +in immortality do I not make fullest recompense to my host? My gift is +precious, and yet I cannot sell it—I can only give it—and so when I am +offered bed and board in return for my work I am not ashamed to take it. +The kings of the earth are glad to honor those who, like myself, have +the power to penetrate the veil."</p> + +<p>Never before had she ventured upon so frank a defense of her vocation, +and Victor listened with a new conception of her powers. As she +continued she took on dignity and quiet force.</p> + +<p>"The medium gives more for her wages than any earthly soul; and when you +consider that we make the grave a gateway to the light, that our hands +part the veil between the seen and the unseen, then you will see that +our gifts are not abnormal, but supernormal. God has given us these +powers to comfort mankind, to afford a new revelation to the world."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you make me a medium?" he asked, thrusting straight at her +heart. "Why did you send me away from it all?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes fell, her voice wavered. "Because I was weak—an earthly +mother. My selfish love and pride overpowered me. I could not see you +made ashamed—and besides my controls advised it for the time."</p> + +<p>He took a seat where he could look up into her face. "Mother, tell me +this—haven't you noticed that your controls generally advise the things +you believe in?"</p> + +<p>She was stung by his question. "Yes, my son, generally; but sometimes +they drive me into ways I do <i>not</i> believe in. Often they are in +opposition to my own will."</p> + +<p>He was silenced for the moment, and his mind took a new turn. "When did +Altair first come?"</p> + +<p>"Soon after I met Leo. She came with Leo. She attends Leo."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen her?"</p> + +<p>"No. I am always in deepest trance when she shows herself. I hear her +voice, though."</p> + +<p>"Mother," he said, earnestly, "if Mr. Bartol gets us out of this scrape +will you go away with me into some new country and give up this +business?"</p> + +<p>"You don't seem to understand, Victor. I can no more escape from these +Voices than I can run away from my own shadow. I don't want to run away. +I love the thought of them. I have innumerable sweet friends on the +other side. To close the door in their faces would be cruel. It would +leave me so lonely that I should never smile again."</p> + +<p>"Then they mean more to you than I do!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"No, no! I don't mean that!" she passionately protested. "You mean more +to me than all the <i>earthly</i> things, but these heavenly hosts are very +dear—besides, I shall go to them soon and I want to feel sure that I +can come back to you when I have put aside the body. I fear now that +our separation was a mistake. In trying to shield you from the transient +disgrace of being a medium's son, I have put your soul in danger. I was +weak—I own it. I was an earthly mother. I wanted my boy to be respected +and rich and happy here in the earth-life. I did not realize the danger +I ran of being forever separated from you by the veil of death. Oh, +Victor, you must promise me that should I pass out suddenly you will try +to keep the spirit-way open between us—will you promise this?"</p> + +<p>Strange scene! Strange mother! All about them the orioles were +whistling, the robins chirping, and farther away the beasts of the +barn-yard were bawling their wants in cheerful chorus, but here on this +vine-shaded porch a pale, small woman sought a compact with her son +which should outlast the grave and defy time and space.</p> + +<p>He gave his word. How could he refuse it? But his pledge was +half-hearted, his eyes full of wavering. It irked him to think that in a +month of bloom and passion, a world of sunny romance, a world of girls +and all the sweet delights they conveyed to young men, he should be +forced to discuss matter which relates to the charnel-house and the +chill shadow of the tomb.</p> + +<p>He rose abruptly. "Don't let's talk of this any more. Let's go for a +walk. Let's visit the garden."</p> + +<p>She was swifter of change than he. She could turn from the air of the +"ghost-room" to the glory of the peacock as swiftly as a mirror reflects +its beam of light, and she caught a delightful respite from the flowers. +She was accustomed to the lavish greenhouses of her wealthy patrons, but +here was something that delighted her more than all their hotbeds. Here +were all the old-fashioned out-of-door plants and flowers, the +perennials of her grandfather, to whom hot-houses were unknown. This +Colonial garden was another of Bartol's peculiarities. He had no love +for orchids, or any exotic or forced blooms. His fancy led to the +glorification of phloxes, to the ripening of lilacs, and to the +preservation of old-time varieties of roses—plants with human +association breathing of romance and sorrow—hence his plots were filled +with hardy New England roots flourishing in the richer soils of the +Western prairies.</p> + +<p>These colors, scents, and forms moved Victor markedly, for the reason +that in La Crescent, as a child, he had been accustomed to visit a gaunt +old woman, the path to whose door led through cinnamon roses, balsam, +tiger-lilies, sweet-william, bachelor-buttons, pinks, holly-hocks, and +the like—a wonderland to him then—a strange and haunting pleasure now +as he walked these graveled ways and mingled the memories of the old +with the vivid impressions of the new.</p> + +<p>Back to the house they came at last to luncheon, and there, sitting in +the beautiful dining-room, so cool, so spacious, so singularly tasteful +in every detail, they gazed upon each other in a delight which was +tinged with pain. Such perfection of appointment, such service, all for +them (two beggars), was more than embarrassing; it provoked a sense of +guilt. The pretty, low-voiced, soft-soled maid came and went, bringing +exquisite food in the daintiest dishes (enough food for six), +anticipating every want, like the fairy of the story-books. "Mother," +said the youth, "this is a story!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee was accustomed to the splendor of Mrs. Joyce's house, but +she was almost as much moved as Victor. She perceived the difference +between the old-world simplicity of this flawless establishment and the +lavish, tasteless hospitality of men like Pettus.</p> + +<p>Who had planned and organized this wide-walled, low-toned room, this +marvelously effective cuisine? How was it possible for such service to +go on during the master's absence with apparently the same unerring +precision of detail?</p> + +<p>These questions remained unanswered, and they rose at last with a sense +of having been, for the moment at least, in the seats of those who +command the earth wisely.</p> + +<p>Hardly were they returned to their hammocks on the porch when a swiftly +driven car turned in at the gate.</p> + +<p>"It is Louise!" exclaimed Mrs. Ollnee.</p> + +<p>"And Leo!" added Victor.</p> + +<p>With streaming veils the travelers swept up to the carriage steps +covered with dust, yet smiling.</p> + +<p>"How are you?" called Mrs. Joyce; and then with true motor spirit, +addressed the driver: "What's the time, Denis?"</p> + +<p>"Two hours and ten minutes from North Avenue."</p> + +<p>"Not so bad, considering the roads."</p> + +<p>Leo had sprung out and was throwing off her cloak and veil. "I hope +we're not too late for luncheon. Mr. Bartol has the <i>best</i> cook, and I'm +famished."</p> + +<p>Her coming swept Victor back into his other and normal self, and he took +charge of her with a mingling of reverence and audacity which charmed +her. He went out into the dining-room with her and sat beside her while +she ate. "I hope you're going to stay," he said, earnestly.</p> + +<p>"Stay! Of course we'll stay. It's hot as July in the city—always is +with the wind from the southwest. Isn't it heavenly out here?"</p> + +<p>"Heavenly is the word; but who did it? Who organized it?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Bartol. She had the best taste of any one—and her way with the +servants was beyond imitation. They all worship her memory."</p> + +<p>"I can't make myself believe I deserve all this," he said. "Your coming +puts the frosting on my bun."</p> + +<p>It was as if some new and utterly different spirit, or band of them, had +come with this glowing girl. She radiated the vitality and the melody of +youth. Without being boisterous or silly, she filled the house with +laughter. "There's something about Hazeldean that always makes me happy. +I don't know why," she said.</p> + +<p>"You make all who inhabit this house happy," said Mrs. Ollnee. "I can +hear spirit laughter echoing to yours."</p> + +<p>"Can you? Is it Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Margaret and Philip."</p> + +<p>Victor did not smile; on the contrary, his face darkened, and Mrs. Joyce +changed the tone of the conversation by asking: "Did you see the paper +this morning? They say you have skipped to join Pettus." This seemed so +funny that they all laughed, till Victor remembered that both these +women had lost much money through Pettus.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce sobered, too. "The Star is against you, Lucy, and you must +keep dark for a time. They are denouncing you as a traitor and all the +rest of it. Did Paul, or any one, advise you last night?"</p> + +<p>"No, nothing was said. I suppose they are considering the matter also. +Those deceiving spirits must be hunted out and driven away."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to lie down for a while," Mrs. Joyce announced. "My old +waist-line is jolted a bit out o' plumb. Leo, will you stretch out, +too?"</p> + +<p>"No indeed. What I need is a walk or a game of tennis. I'm cramped from +sitting so long."</p> + +<p>So it fell out that Victor (penniless youth, hedged about with invisible +walls, pikes, and pitfalls) was soon galloping about a tennis court in +the glories of a new pair of flannel trousers and a lovely blue-striped +outing shirt, trying hard not to win every game from a very good +partner, who was pouting with dismay while admiring his skill.</p> + +<p>"It isn't right for any one to 'serve' as weird a ball as you do," she +protested. "It's like playing with loaded dice. I begin to understand +why you were not renowned as a scholar."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wasn't so bad! I stood above medium."</p> + +<p>"How could you? It must have taken all your time to learn to play tennis +in the diabolical way you do—it's conjury, that's what it is!"</p> + +<p>They were in the shade, and the fresh sweet wind, heavy with the scent +of growing corn and wheat, swept steadily over the court, relieving it +from heat, and Victor clean forgot his worriments. This girlish figure +filled his eyes with pictures of unforgetable grace and charm. The swing +of her skirts as she leaped for the ball, the free sweep of her arm (she +had been well instructed), and the lithe bending of her waist brought +the lover's sweet unease. When they came to the net now and again, he +studied her fine figure with frank admiration. "You are a corker!" was +his boyish word of praise. "I don't go up against many men who play the +game as well as you do. Your 'form' is a whole lot better than mine. I +am a bit lucky, I admit. You see, I studied baseball pitching, and I +know the action of a whirling sphere. I curve the ball—make it 'break,' +as the English say. I can make it do all kinds of 'stunts.'"</p> + +<p>"I see you can, and I'll thank you not to try any new ones," she +protested. "Can you ride a horse?"</p> + +<p>His face fell a bit. "There I am a 'mutt,'" he confessed. "I never was +on a horse except the wooden one in the Gym."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad I can beat you at something," she said, with exultant cruelty. +"I know you can row."</p> + +<p>"Shall we try another set?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not to-day, thank you. My self-respect will not stand another such +drubbing. I'm going in for a cold plunge. After that you may read to me +on the porch."</p> + +<p>"I'll be there with the largest tome in the library," he replied.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce stopped him as he was going up-stairs to his room. "Victor, +don't worry about me. While it looks as though I have lost a good deal +of money through Pettus, I am by no means bankrupt. I am just about +where I was when I met your mother. She has not enriched me—I mean The +Voices have not—neither have they impoverished me. It's just the same +with Leo. She's almost exactly where she was when she came East. It +would seem as if they had been playing with us just to show us how +unsubstantial earthly possessions are."</p> + +<p>There was a certain comfort in this explanation, and yet the fact that +her losses had not eaten in upon her original capital did not remove the +essential charge of dishonesty which the man Aiken had brought against +the ghostly advisers. Florence and Thomas Aiken could not afford to be +so lenient. They were disinherited, cheated of their rightful legacy, by +the lying spirits.</p> + +<p>He was anxious, also, to know just how deeply Leo was involved in the +People's Bank; and when she came down to the porch he led her to a +distant chair beside a hammock on the eastern side of the house, and +there, with a book in his hand, opened his interrogations.</p> + +<p>He began quite formally, and with a well-laid-out line of questions, but +she was not the kind of witness to permit that. She broke out of his +boundaries on the third query, and laughingly refused to discuss her +losses. "I am holding no one but myself responsible," she said. "I was +greedy—I couldn't let well enough alone, that's all."</p> + +<p>"No, that is not all," he insisted. "My mother is charged with advising +people to put money into the hands of a swindler—"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe that. I think she was honest in believing that Pettus +would enrich us all. She was deceived like the rest of us."</p> + +<p>"But what becomes of the infallible Voices?"</p> + +<p>She laughed. "They are fallible, that's all. They made a gross blunder +in Pettus."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bartol suggests that my mother may have been hypnotized by Pettus +and made to work his will, and I think he's right. He thinks the whole +thing comes down to illusion—to hypnotic control and telepathy."</p> + +<p>She looked thoughtful. "I had a stage of believing that; but it doesn't +explain all, it only explains a small part. Does it explain Altair to +you?"</p> + +<p>His glance fell. "Nothing explains Altair—nor that moaning wind—nor +the writing on the slates."</p> + +<p>"And the letter—have you forgotten that?"</p> + +<p>"Half an hour ago, as we were playing tennis, I <i>had</i> forgotten it. I +was cut loose from the whole blessed mess—now it all comes back upon me +like a cloud."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't look at it that way. That's foolish. I think it's glorious +fun, this investigating."</p> + +<p>He acknowledged her rebuke, but added, "It would be more fun if the +person under the grill were not one's own mother."</p> + +<p>"That's true," she admitted; "and yet, I think you can study her without +giving offense. I began in a very offensive way—I can see that now—but +she met my test, and still meets every test you bring. The faith she +represents isn't going to have its heart plucked out in a hurry, I can +tell you that."</p> + +<p>"The immediate thing is to defend her against this man Aiken. Mr. Bartol +said he would order up a lot of books, and I'm to cram for the trial. If +you have any book to suggest, I wish you'd write its title down for me."</p> + +<p>"What's the use of going to books? The judges will want the facts, and +you'll have to convince them that she is what she claims to be."</p> + +<p>"How can we do that? We can't exhibit her in a trance?"</p> + +<p>"You might. Perhaps her guides will give her the power." She glowed with +anticipatory triumph. "Imagine her confounding the jury! Wouldn't that +be dramatic! It would be like the old-time test of fire."</p> + +<p>He was radiant, too, for a moment, over the thought. Then his face grew +stern. "Nothing like that is going to happen. She would fail, and that +would leave us in worse case than before. Our only hope is to convince +the jury that she is not responsible for what her Voices say. We've got +to show she's auto-hypnotic."</p> + +<p>"I hope the trial will come soon."</p> + +<p>"So do I, for here I am eating somebody else's food, with no prospect of +earning a cent or finding out my place in the world. I don't know just +what my mother's idea was in educating me in classical English instead +of some technical course, but I'm perfectly certain that I'm the most +helpless mollusk that was ever kicked out of a school."</p> + +<p>Real bitterness was in his voice, and she hastened to add a word of +comfort. "All you need is a chance to show your powers."</p> + +<p>"What powers?"</p> + +<p>"Latent powers," she smiled. "We are all supposed to have latent powers. +I am seeking a career, too."</p> + +<p>He forgot himself in a return of his admiration of her. "Oh, you don't +have to seek. A girl like you has her career all cut out for her."</p> + +<p>She caught his meaning. "That's what I resent. Why should a woman's +career mean only marriage?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—I guess because it's the most important thing for her to +do."</p> + +<p>"To be some man's household drudge or pet?"</p> + +<p>"No, to be some man's inspiration."</p> + +<p>"Fudge! A woman is never anybody's inspiration—after she's married."</p> + +<p>"How cynical you are! What caused it?"</p> + +<p>"Observing my married friends."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am relieved! I was afraid it was through some personal +experience—"</p> + +<p>This seemed funny to them both, and they laughed together. "There's +nothing of 'the maiden with reluctant feet' about me," she went on. "I +simply refuse to go near the brink. I find men stupid, smelly, and +coarse."</p> + +<p>"I hate girls in the abstract—they giggle and whisper behind their +hands and make mouths; but there is one girl who is different." He tried +to be very significant at the moment.</p> + +<p>She ignored his clumsy beginning of a compliment. "All the girls who +giggle should marry the men who 'crack jokes'—that's my advice."</p> + +<p>"'Pears like our serious conversation is straggling out into +vituperation."</p> + +<p>"Whose fault is it?"</p> + +<p>"Please don't force me to say it was not my fault. I'm like Lincoln—I +joke to hide my sorrows."</p> + +<p>"Don't be irreverent."</p> + +<p>Through all this youthful give and take the boy and girl were studying +each other minutely, and the phrases that read so baldly came from their +lips with so much music, so much of hidden meaning (at least with +displayed suggestion), that each was tingling with the revelation of it. +The words of youth are slight in content; it is the accompanying tone +that carries to the heart.</p> + +<p>She recovered first. "Now let's stop this school-boy chatter—"</p> + +<p>"You mean school-girl chatter."</p> + +<p>"Both. Your mother is in a very serious predicament. We must help her."</p> + +<p>He became quite serious. "I wish you would advise me. You know so much +more about the whole subject than I do. I'm eager to get to work on the +books. I suppose it is too much to expect that they will come up +to-day?"</p> + +<p>"They might. I'll go and inquire."</p> + +<p>"No indeed, let me go. Am I not an inmate here?" He disappeared into the +house, leaving her to muse on his face. He began to interest her, this +passionate, self-willed, moody youth. She perceived in him the soul of +the conqueror. His swift change of temper, his union of sport-loving boy +and ambitious man made him as interesting as a play. "He'll make his +way," she decided, using the vague terms of prophecy into which a girl +falls when regarding the future of a young man. It's all so delightfully +mysterious, this path of the youth who makes his way upward to success.</p> + +<p>A shout announced his return, and looking up she perceived him bearing +down upon her with an armful of books.</p> + +<p>"Here they are!" he exulted. "Red ones, blue ones, brown ones—which +shall we begin on?"</p> + +<p>"Blue—that's my color."</p> + +<p>"Agreed! Blue it is." He dumped them all down on the wide, swinging +couch and fell to turning them over. "Dark blue or light blue?"</p> + +<p>"Dark blue."</p> + +<p>He picked up a fat volume. "<i>Mysterious Psychic Forces.</i> Know this +tome?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, indeed! It's wonderfully interesting."</p> + +<p>"I choose it! This color scheme simplifies things. Now, here's +another—<i>The Dual Personality</i>. How's that?"</p> + +<p>"Um! Well—pretty good."</p> + +<p>"<i>Dual Personality</i> to the rear. Here's a brown book—<i>Metaphysical +Phenomena</i>."</p> + +<p>"That's a good one, too."</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry they didn't bind it in blue—and here's a measly, yellow, +paper-bound book in some foreign language—Italian, I guess, author, +Morselli."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's a book I want to read. Let me take it?"</p> + +<p>"Do you read Italian?"</p> + +<p>"After a fashion."</p> + +<p>"Then I engage you at once to translate that book to me. What is it all +about?"</p> + +<p>He abandoned his seat on the couch and drew a chair close to hers. +"Begin at the first page and read very slowly all the way through. I +wish it were a three volume edition."</p> + +<p>She looked at him with side glance. "You're not in the least subtle."</p> + +<p>"I intended to have you understand that I enjoy the thought of your +reading to me. Did you catch it?"</p> + +<p>"I caught it. No one else ever suggested that I was stupid."</p> + +<p>"I didn't call you stupid. I think you're haughty and domineering, but +you're not stupid."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she answered, demurely.</p> + +<p>Eventually they drew together, and she began to read the marvelous story +of the crucial experiments which Morselli and his fellows laid upon +Eusapia Palladino. Two hours passed. The robins and thrushes began their +evensong, the shadows lengthened on the lawn, and still these young folk +remained at their reading—Victor sitting so close to his teacher's side +that his cheek almost touched her shoulder. The sunset glory of the +material world was forgotten in the tremendous conceptions called up by +the author of this far-reaching book.</p> + +<p>Sweeter hours of study Victor never had. Seeing the rise and fall of his +interpreter's bosom and catching the faint perfume of her hair, he heard +but vaguely some of the sentences, and had to have them repeated, what +time her eyes were looking straight into his. At such moment she +reminded him of the dream-face that had bloomed like a rose in the black +night, for she was then very grave. Less ardent of blood than he, she +succeeded in giving her whole mind to the great Italian's thesis, and +the point of view—so new and so bold—stirred her like a trumpet.</p> + +<p>"I like this man," she said. "He is not afraid."</p> + +<p>Once or twice Mrs. Joyce looked out at them, but they made such a pretty +picture she had not the heart to disturb them.</p> + +<p>At seven o'clock she was forced to interrupt: "What <i>are</i> you children +up to?"</p> + +<p>"Improving our minds," answered Leo. "Are we starting back? What time is +it?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce smiled. "That question is a great compliment to your company. +It's dinner-time."</p> + +<p>"Are we starting now?"</p> + +<p>"No; we're going to stay all night."</p> + +<p>"Fine!" shouted Victor. "I was wondering how I could put in the +evening."</p> + +<p>"It's time to dress," warned Mrs. Joyce. "This is no happy-go-easy +establishment. I never saw such perfection of service as Alexander +always has. I can't get it, or if I get it I can't keep it; while here, +with the master gone half the time, the wheels go like a chronometer."</p> + +<p>"It's all due to Marie. She worshiped Mrs. Bartol, and she venerates Mr. +Bartol."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce cut her short. "Skurry to your room. We must not be late."</p> + +<p>As they were going into the house together, Leo said: "I think we would +better not let our elders read this book of Morselli's. It's too +disturbing for them—don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"It certainly is a twister. However, mother doesn't read any foreign +language, so she's safe."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2> + +<h3>A MOONLIGHT CALL AND A VISION</h3> + + +<p>Upon rising from the dinner table the young people returned to their +books, and at ten o'clock Leo lifted her eyes from her page. "Did some +one drive up?"</p> + +<p>Victor looked at her dazedly. "I didn't hear anybody. Proceed."</p> + +<p>"Mercy! It's ten o'clock. Where are Aunt Louise and your mother? I hear +Mr. Bartol's voice!" she exclaimed, rising hastily. "Let's go get the +latest news."</p> + +<p>The master of the house entered before the young people could shake off +the spell of what they had been imagining.</p> + +<p>"What a waste of good moonlight!" he exclaimed, with smiling sympathy. +"Why aren't you youngsters out on the lawn?"</p> + +<p>"It's all your fault," responded Leo. "We've been absorbing one of the +books you sent up."</p> + +<p>"Have you? It must have been a wonderful romance. I can't conceive of +anything but a love-story keeping youth indoors on a night like this."</p> + +<p>Victor defended her. "We've been reading of Morselli's wonderful +experiments. It's in Italian, and Miss Wood has been translating it for +me."</p> + +<p>"What luck you have!" exclaimed Mr. Bartol. "I engage her to +re-translate it for me at the same rate."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee and Mrs. Joyce came in as he was speaking, and Mrs. Joyce, +after disposing herself comfortably, said, "Well, what is your report?"</p> + +<p>He confessed that he had been too busy with other matters to give the +Aiken accusation much thought. "However, I sent an armful of books out +to my assistant attorney." He waved his hand toward Victor.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to read books," protested Mrs. Joyce, energetically, +"when you've the very source of all knowledge right here in your own +house? Why don't you study your client and convince yourself of her +powers?—then you'll know what to do and say."</p> + +<p>"I had thought of that," he said, hesitantly. "But—"</p> + +<p>"You need not fear," Mrs. Joyce assured him. "It's true Lucy cannot +always furnish the phenomena on the instant. In fact, the more eager she +is the more reluctant the forces are; but you can at least try, and she +is not only willing but eager for the test."</p> + +<p>Bartol turned to Mrs. Ollnee. "Are you prepared now—to-night?" he +asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, this moment," she answered.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce exulted. "The power is on her. I can see that. See how her +hand trembles! One finger is signaling. Don't you see it?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Bartol rose. "Come with me into my study. Mrs. Joyce may come some +other time. I do not want any witnesses to-night," he added, with a +smile.</p> + +<p>Victor watched his mother go into Bartol's study with something of the +feeling he might have had in seeing her enter the den of a lion. She +seemed very helpless and very inexperienced in contrast with this great +inquisitor, so skilled in cross-examination, so inexorable in logic, so +menacing of eye.</p> + +<p>Leo, perceiving Victor's anxiety, proposed that they return to the +porch, and to this he acceded, though it seemed like a cowardly +desertion of his mother. "Poor little mother," he said. "If she stands +up against him she's a wonder."</p> + +<p>The girl stretched herself out on the swinging couch, and the youth took +his seat on a wicker chair close beside her. Mrs. Joyce kept at a decent +distance, so that if the young people had anything private to say she +might reasonably appear not to have overheard it.</p> + +<p>Talk was spasmodic, for neither of them could forget for a moment the +duel which was surely going on in that inner room. Indeed, Mrs. Joyce +openly spoke of it. "If Lucy is not too anxious, too eager, she will +change Alexander's whole conception of the universe this night."</p> + +<p>"Of course you're exaggerating, Aunt Louise; but I certainly expect her +to shake him up."</p> + +<p>"It only needs one genuine phenomenon to convince him of her sincerity. +What a warrior for the cause he would make! She must stay right here in +his house till she utterly overwhelms him. He took up her case at first +merely because I asked him to do so; but he likes her, and is ready to +take it up on her own account if he finds her sincere. But I want him to +believe in the philosophy she represents."</p> + +<p>Half an hour passed with no sign from within, and Mrs. Joyce began to +yawn. "That ride made me sleepy."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you go to bed?" suggested Leo.</p> + +<p>She professed concern. "And leave Lucy unguarded?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! Go to bed and sleep. Mr. Ollnee and I will stand guard till +the ordeal is ended."</p> + +<p>"I believe I'll risk it," decided Mrs. Joyce. "I can hardly keep my eyes +open."</p> + +<p>"Nor your mouth shut," laughed Leo. "Hasten, or you'll fall asleep on +the stair."</p> + +<p>Left alone, the young people came nigh to forgetting that the world +contained aught but dim stretches of moonlit greensward, dewy trees, and +the odor of lilac blooms. In the dusk Victor stood less in fear of the +girl, and she, moved by the witchery of the night and the melody of his +voice (into which something new and masterful had come), grew less +defiant. "How still it all is?" she breathed, softly. "It is like the +Elysian Fields after the city's noise and grime."</p> + +<p>"It's more beautiful out there." He motioned toward the lawn. "Let's +walk down the drive."</p> + +<p>And she complied without hesitation, a laugh in her voice. "But not too +far. Remember, we are guardian angels."</p> + +<p>As she reached his side he took her arm and tucked it within his own. +"You might get lost," he said, in jocular explanation of his action.</p> + +<p>"How considerate you are!" she scornfully responded, but her hand +remained in his keeping.</p> + +<p>There were no problems now. Down through the soft dusk of the summer +night they strolled, rapturously listening to the sounds that were +hardly more than silences, feeling the touch of each other's garments, +experiencing the magic thrill which leaps from maid to man and man to +maid in times like these.</p> + +<p>"How big you are!" exclaimed the girl. "I didn't realize how much you +overtopped me. I am considered tall."</p> + +<p>"And so you are—and divinely fair."</p> + +<p>"How banal! Couldn't you think of a newer one?"</p> + +<p>"It was as much as ever I remembered, that. I'm not a giant in poetry. +I'm a dub at any fine job."</p> + +<p>Of this quality was their talk. To those of us who are old and dim-eyed, +it seems of no account, perhaps, but to those who can remember similar +walks and talks it is of higher worth than the lectures in the Sorbonne. +Learning is a very chill abstraction on such a night to such a pair. +Would we not all go back again to this sweet land of love and +longing—if we could?</p> + +<p>Victor did not deliberately plan to draw Leonora closer to his side, and +the proud girl did not intend to permit him to do so; but somehow it +happened that his arm stole round her waist as they walked the shadowy +places of the drive, and their laggard feet were wholly out of rhythm to +their leaping pulses.</p> + +<p>The proof of Victor's naturally dependable character lay in the fact +that he presumed no further. He was content with the occasional touch of +her rounded hip to his, the caressing touch of her skirt as it swung +about his ankle. To have attempted a kiss would have broken the spell, +would have alarmed and repelled her. He honored her, loved her, but he +was still in awe of her proud glance and the imperious carriage of her +head. He preferred to think she suffered rather than invited the clasp +of his arm.</p> + +<p>She, on her part, was astonished and a little scared by her own +complaisant weakness, and as they came out into the lighter part of the +walk she disengaged herself with a self-derisive remark, and asked, "Do +you always take such good care of the arms of your girl friends?"</p> + +<p>"Always," he replied, instantly, though his heart was still in the +clutch of his new-born passion.</p> + +<p>"I shall be on my guard next time.... I see Mr. Bartol in the doorway. +Don't you think we'd better go in? What time do you suppose it is?"</p> + +<p>"The saddest time in the world for me if you are going to leave me."</p> + +<p>"Don't be maudlin." She had recovered her self-command, and was disposed +to be extra severe. "Sentimental nothings is hardly your strong point."</p> + +<p>"What is my strong point?"</p> + +<p>She was ready with an answer. "Plain down-right impudence."</p> + +<p>He, too, was recovering speech. "I'm glad I have <i>one</i> strong trait. I +was afraid there was nothing about me to make a definite impression on a +proud beauty like you."</p> + +<p>"Please don't try to be literary. Stick to your oars and your baseball +raquet."</p> + +<p>"Bat," he corrected.</p> + +<p>"I meant bat."</p> + +<p>"I know you did; but you said raquet."</p> + +<p>In this juvenile spat they approached the porch where Mr. Bartol stood +waiting for them.</p> + +<p>"Young people," he called, in a voice that somehow voiced a deep +emotion, "do you realize that it is midnight?"</p> + +<p>Protesting their amazement, they mounted the steps and entered the +house; but the moment they looked into their host's face they became +serious, perceiving that something very tremendous had taken place in +his laboratory.</p> + +<p>"What has happened?" asked Leo. "What did she do?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know yet," he replied, strangely inconclusive in tone and +phrase. "I must think it all over. If I can persuade myself that the +marvels which I have witnessed are realities, the universe is an +entirely new and vastly different machine for me."</p> + +<p>Thrilling to the excitement in his face and in his voice, they passed +on. At the top of the stairs Leo faced Victor with eyes big with +excitement. "What do you suppose came to him?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't an idea. He seemed terribly wrought up, though."</p> + +<p>"We must say good-night." She held out her hand, and he took it.</p> + +<p>"This has been the finest, most instructive day of my life."</p> + +<p>She released her hand with a little decisive, dismissing movement. "How +nice of you! Signor Morselli should know of it. Good-night!" And the +smile with which she left him was delightfully provoking and mirthful.</p> + +<p>Victor would have gone straight to his mother had he known where to +find her, for he was eager to know what had taken place in the deeps of +Bartol's study. That she had been able to mystify the great lawyer, he +was convinced; and yet, perhaps, this was only temporary. "He will go +further. What will he find?"</p> + +<p>He was standing before his dresser slowly removing his collar and tie +when the door opened and his mother entered. She was abnormally wide +awake, and her eyes, violet in their intensity, betrayed so much +excitement that he exclaimed: "Why, mother, what's the matter? What kind +of a session did you have? What has happened to you?"</p> + +<p>"Victor, father tells me that Mr. Bartol will be convinced. He is the +greatest mind I have ever met. If I can bring him to a belief in the +spirit world it will be the most important victory of my life."</p> + +<p>"What did he say to you? What did he think?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know; and strange to say, I cannot read his mind. He seems +convinced of the phenomena, and yet I can't tell for certain. He was +skeptical at the beginning, as nearly every one is."</p> + +<p>Hitherto, at every such opening, Victor had rushed in to pluck the heart +out of her mystery, but now he restrained himself, for fear of trapping +her into some admission, which would make his own testimony more +difficult in court. He took a seat on the bed and regarded her with +meditative eyes, and she went on.</p> + +<p>"The Voices are clamoring round me still. They want to speak to you."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to hear them—not to-night," he replied, coldly. "Tell +them to wait and talk to me when Mr. Bartol is listening."</p> + +<p>She seemed disappointed and a little hurt by his tone. "Altair is here. +She wishes most to speak."</p> + +<p>Interest awoke in him. "What does she want of me?"</p> + +<p>She listened. "She says, '<i>Trust Mr. Bartol.</i>'"</p> + +<p>He could see nothing, hear nothing, therefore his face lost its light.</p> + +<p>"Well, we've got to trust him. He's all the help in sight."</p> + +<p>Something, a breath, the light caress of a hand, passed over his hair, +and a whisper that was almost tone spoke in his ear, "<i>Fear nothing, if +you will be guided and protected.</i>"</p> + +<p>Sweet as this voice was, it irritated him, for he could not disassociate +his mother from it. Indeed, it had something subtly familiar in its +utterance, and yet he could not accuse her of deceit. He only roughly +said: "Don't do that! I don't like that!"</p> + +<p>Silence followed, and then his mother sadly said: "You have hurt her. +She will not speak again."</p> + +<p>"Let her show herself. How do I know who is speaking to me? Let me see +her face again." He added this in a gentler voice, being moved by a +vivid memory of the exquisite picture Altair had made.</p> + +<p>After another pause Mrs. Ollnee answered: "She will do so. She says +soon. She has gone; but your father wants to speak to you."</p> + +<p>Victor rose impatiently. "Tell him to come again some other time. I'm +sleepy now."</p> + +<p>She turned away saddened by his manner, and with a gentle "good-night" +went softly from the room.</p> + +<p>Victor regretted his bluntness, but could not free himself from a +feeling that his mother's Voices were deceptive or imaginary, and her +visit hurt and disgusted him so deeply that the charm of his evening's +companionship with Leo was all but lost. "Part of her phenomena are +real, but these Voices—" He broke off and went to his bed with a vague +feeling of loss weighing him down.</p> + +<p>For a half-hour he lay in growing bitterness, and then quite suddenly he +thought he detected a thin, blue vapor rising from the rag rug at the +side of his bed, and for an instant he was startled. "Is it smoke? Or do +I imagine it?" As it rose and sank, expanded and contracted, he studied +it closely. It was not smoke, for it did not ascend. It was more like +filmy drapery tossed by a wind from a hidden aperture in the floor. +Motionless, amazed, and awed, he watched it, till out of it the face of +a woman looked, her wistful eyes touched with an accusing sorrow. It +was Altair, and her form became more real from moment to moment, until +at last he could detect the swell of her bosom, draped with the folds of +a shimmering white robe. As he waited a hand appeared at her side, +vaguely outlined, yet alive. He could see the fingers loosely clasped +about a rose. She was so beautiful that he lay gazing at her in +speechless wonder. "Am I dreaming?" he asked himself. "I <i>must</i> be +dreaming." And yet he could feel the air from the window.</p> + +<p>In the light of her glance he forgot all his other loves and cares. His +worship for her returned like swift hunger, and he yearned to touch her, +to hear her voice. "She is a dream," he decided, and his hand, lifted to +test the vision, fell back upon the coverlet.</p> + +<p>As if reading his thought, Altair put out her right arm and touched his +wrist with a caress like the stroke of a beam of moonlight, so light and +cold it was.</p> + +<p>"<i>Victor</i>," she seemed to say, and his whisper was almost as light as +her own.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Don't you know me? I am Altair. Do not forget me.</i>"</p> + +<p>"I will not forget you," he answered. "I can't forget you. Why do you +look so sad?"</p> + +<p>"<i>It is cold and empty where I dwell. I come to you for happiness and +warmth. You had forgotten me. You would not listen to my voice.</i>" Her +reproach moved him almost to tears.</p> + +<p>"I could not see you. I was not sure."</p> + +<p>"<i>I do not accuse you. It is natural for you to love. When the day comes +you will seek another. One whose flesh is warm. Mine is cold. She is of +the day. I am of the night. But do not refuse to speak to me.</i>"</p> + +<p>Her bust had grown fuller, more complete as she spoke, and yet from the +waist downward she seemed but a trailing garment of convoluting, +phosphorescent gauze. Her left hand still hung at her side, vague, +diaphanous, but her right lay upon her breast, as beautiful, as real as +firelit ivory, and her face seemed to glow as though with some inward +radiance.</p> + +<p>Victor could follow the exquisite line of her brow, and her eyes were +glorious pools of color, deep and dark with mystery and passion. Slowly +she sank as if kneeling, her stately head lowered, bent above him, and +he felt the touch of soft lips upon his own—a kiss so warm, so human +that it filled his heart with worship. Gently he lifted his hand, +seeking to draw her to him, and for an instant he felt her pliant body +in the circle of his arms—then she dissolved, vanished—like some +condensation of the atmosphere, and he was left alone, aching with +longing and despair.</p> + +<p>For a long time he waited, hoping she would return. He saw the moonlight +fade from the carpet. He heard the night wind amid the maple leaves, and +he knew he had not been dreaming, for that strange Oriental perfume +lingered in the air, and on the coverlet where her exquisite hand had +rested a white bloom lay, mystic and wonderful. He lifted it, and its +breath, sweeter than that of any other flower he had ever held, filled +him with instant languor and happy release of care.</p> + +<p>His next perception was that of sunlight. It was morning, and the kine +and fowls were astir.</p> + +<p>He looked for the mysterious flower, but it was gone. He sprang from his +bed and searched the room for it. "It did not exist," he sadly +concluded. "It has returned to the mysterious world from whence it +came."</p> + +<p>For a long time afterward he suffered with a sense of loss, while the +sunlight deepened in his room and the sounds of the barn-yard brought +back to him the realization that he was in effect a fugitive in the +house of a stranger. Slowly the normal action of his mind and body +resumed its sway, and he dressed, quite sure that something abnormal had +brought this vision to him. He wondered if he, too, were getting +mediumistic. "Am I to be a son of my mother? Am I to hear voices and see +visions?" he asked himself, with a note of alarm. He began to fear the +disintegrating effects of these experiences. His personality; his body +hitherto so solid, so stable, seemed about to develop disturbing +capabilities.</p> + +<p>He was profoundly pleased and reassured to find on his dressing-room +table a large white rose, a rose precisely like that which had been +laid upon his coverlet by the hand of the dream-woman. It's odor was the +same, and its petals were as fresh as if it had just been cut. It +reassured him by convincing him that his vision was real—that it had a +basis of physical change; but it also started a perplexing chain of +thought. "How came the rose here? Who brought it?" was his question. "It +certainly was not there when I went to bed."</p> + +<p>With the flower in his hand, he still stood looking down at the place +where the hand of Altair had rested—still marveling at this mingling of +the real and the fantastic, the dream and the rose, when something +shining revealed itself half concealed by the pillow; and putting out +his hand he took up a little brooch of turquoise set with diamonds, +which he recognized instantly as one that Leo had worn at her throat +when she said good-night.</p> + +<p>Sinking into a chair, he stared now at the jewel, now at the rose, while +a thrill of pride, of mastery, of joy stole through him. His blood +warmed. His heart quickened its beat. Could it be that Leo had been his +visitor? Was it possible that she, burning with hidden love of him, had +stolen to his room, and there at his bedside, masking herself as Altair, +had bent to his drowsy eyes, and laid upon his lips that fervid kiss? +The thought confused him, overpowered him, exalted him.</p> + +<p>His was a chivalrous nature, therefore this act, at the moment, seemed +neither unmaidenly nor wrong—indeed, it appeared very beautiful in his +eyes. It humbled him, made him wonder if he were worth the risk she had +run? He was not abnormally self-appreciative, but he had not been left +unaware of his appeal to women. His previous love-affairs had been those +of the undergraduate, proceeding under the jocular supervision of his +watchful fellows. His present case was in wholly different spirit. He +was a man now—in fact, his quarrel with Leo from the first had been +over her evident determination to treat him as a lad.</p> + +<p>The memory of her serene self-possession made her self-surrender of the +night all the more amazing to him. "It is cold and empty where I dwell," +she had said. This meant that she loved him—longed for him—it could +mean nothing else. Her love had begun during their ride on the lagoon, +in their delicious drowse on the grass. It had been deepened by their +afternoon of sweet companionship at tennis and over their books; then +came the walk in the moonlight and her acceptance of his caress in the +dusky place in the path—all were preparatory to this final wondrous +visit and confession.</p> + +<p>And yet her eyes had never been other than those of a friend. Seemingly +she had laughed at herself for the momentary weakness of yielding to his +arm. Her daylight expression had always been that of the humorous, +self-reliant, rather intellectual girl, who acknowledges no fear of man +and no sudden rush of passion, and yet—How reconcile the facts!</p> + +<p>He smiled to think how he had been deceived by her imperious air, by her +expressed contempt for his interest. "And all the while she was really +waiting for me to break through her reserve," he said; and this +delicious explanation satisfied him for a few moments, till he went +deeper into his memory of what she had said and done.</p> + +<p>He was forced to reassure himself again by the jewel and the rose that +she had really come to him, so dream-like did the whole ethereal episode +now seem. The more he dwelt upon the vision the deeper it moved him. +It's growing significance set his blood aflame. In fiction and poesy +women often sacrifice their reserve, moved by uncontrollable longing, +like the heroine of mad Ophelia's song, because commanded by something +stronger than their sweet selves. It was hard to think of Leo as one +carried out of herself by love—and yet here lay the jewel of her bosom +in his hand! How to meet her puzzled and excited him.</p> + +<p>Up to this minute he had admired her and had paid court to her as a +young man naturally addresses a handsome girl, but he was not violently +in love with her; indeed, she had interested him rather less than a girl +in Winona, daughter of Professor Boyden; but now, as he was about to +meet her in the breakfast-room, she possessed more power, more +significance, than any woman in the world. He recalled how fine and +helpful she had been during the few days of their acquaintance—her +serenity, her good sense, her pungent comment began to seem very +wonderful.</p> + +<p>He looked at himself in the glass, finding there a very good-looking, +stalwart youth, but could not discover anything to account for the +sudden blaze of Leonora's self-sacrificing passion. He was neither a +fool nor a peacock, and he tried to account for her love on the ground +of her regard for his mother. Then, like a flash of light, came the +thought, "She was sleep-walking!"</p> + +<p>He had read of the marvels of hypnotism and somnambulism. Perhaps in +some strange way his mother's desire to have Leo love her son had sent +the girl straight to his bedside. There was something uncanny in her +speech and in her gestures—only in her kiss had she been solidly, +warmly human.</p> + +<p>And yet all this seemed so difficult to believe—and besides, if the +girl came in her sleep, did it not prove her love quite as conclusively? +It might be unconscious, but it was there.</p> + +<p>With heart pounding mightily, and face set and stern, he left his room +and began descending the stairway, uncertain still of the way in which +he should meet her.</p> + +<p>Happily he found no one in the dining-room but the maid, who said to +him, "Mr. Bartol would like to see Mr. Ollnee in his study as soon as +Mr. Ollnee has had his breakfast."</p> + +<p>"Very well," he replied; "I will make short work of breakfast this +morning."</p> + +<p>As he sat thus awaiting Leo, his mind filled with the wonder of her +self-surrender, he considered carefully in what way he should greet her. +"She must not know that I know," he decided. "I will greet her as if I +had not found the brooch, and I will leave it where she will happen upon +it accidentally."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2> + +<h3>VICTOR TESTS HIS THEORY</h3> + + +<p>He was still at breakfast, deeply engaged with his alluring vision, when +Mrs. Joyce and his mother entered the room. As he rose to greet them +Mrs. Joyce asked, "Have you seen Mr. Bartol?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet—but he is up. I am to see him soon. Where is Leo?"</p> + +<p>"She is not feeling very brisk this morning, and is taking her coffee in +bed."</p> + +<p>He said no more, but resumed his seat, richer by this added proof of the +deep perturbation through which the girl had passed. He was +disappointed, and eager to see her, but the conviction that she had been +sleepless from love of him put him among the clouds. He would have +forgotten his appointment with Bartol had not the maid reminded him of +it. Even then he tried to avoid it. "You're sure he wanted me? Didn't he +mean my mother?"</p> + +<p>"I'm quite sure he said Mister Ollnee."</p> + +<p>"Mother, what do you suppose he wants of me?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Victor. Perhaps he wants to talk over the trial."</p> + +<p>"Come back and tell us as soon as you can," commanded Mrs. Joyce. "I'm +crazy to know what he did last night, and what he really thinks of us?"</p> + +<p>Victor promised to report, and went away to his interview with a vague +alarm disturbing the blissful self-satisfaction of the early morning.</p> + +<p>He found Bartol seated at a big table with a writing-pad before him and +four or five open volumes disposed about as if for reference. He, too, +looked old and worn and rather grim, but he greeted his guest politely. +"Good-morning. Have you seen your mother this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have just left her at breakfast."</p> + +<p>"How is she?"</p> + +<p>"She seems quite herself—a little pale, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Be seated, please. I want to go over our case with you. First of all, I +want you to tell me once more, and in full detail, all you know of your +mother's life. Begin at the beginning and leave nothing out. Don't +theorize or try to explain—give me the facts as you have observed +them."</p> + +<p>This was not the kind of business to which a love-exalted youth would +set himself, but Victor squared himself before the brooding face and +deep-set eyes of his host, and entered once more upon the story of the +"ghost-room," which had been the one dark spot in his childhood, and +which became again in a moment the overshadowing torment of his young +manhood.</p> + +<p>As he talked the intent look of the man before him, his short, sharp, +significant questions inspired him. He poured forth in eloquent and +moving phrase the story of his sudden awakening to a knowledge that his +mother was a paid medium, and under persecution by the press of the +city. He told of his sittings with her, wherein he had savagely +determined to unmask her for her own good. He admitted his complete +failure. He related his experiences during the time she lay in deathly +trance, and his voice lost its smooth flow as he approached the most +marvelous experience of all, when the vast and murmuring wind blew +through the small room and Altair came with sad, sweet face, to bewitch +him and to shake his conceptions of the universe to their foundation +stones. He confessed his bewilderment and confusion, and ended by +saying: "It's all unnatural, diseased. I can't believe it is the real +side of things."</p> + +<p>"I wonder that you kept your head at all," remarked Bartol. "Your youth +and good, hot blood protect you. Have you talked with your mother about +our sitting?"</p> + +<p>"Only a few words. She came to my room last night and told me she had +only a dim recollection of what took place. She said The Voices wanted +to talk to me—but I didn't want them to talk to me—and said so—and +she went away."</p> + +<p>Bartol mused. "Belief is not a matter of evidence; it is a habit of +mind. I find myself unable to follow the evidence of my own senses. My +tests of your mother last night convinced me at the moment that she had +the right to claim supernormal powers. She seemingly turned matter into +a mere abstraction, and made the learning of physicists the chatter of +children." As he spoke his memory of what he had seen freshened and his +excitement increased. His voice deepened and his eyes glowed. "Here are +my notes of what took place, and I have spent the night in comparing my +observations with those of Sir William Crookes concerning the medium +Home. In a certain very real sense the phenomena I witnessed were quite +as marvelous as those Crookes chronicled." He rose and began to walk up +and down the room. "And yet this morning I do not believe—I cannot +believe—that writing was precipitated in a closed book held in my hand, +that a pen rose of its own volition and tapped upon the table.</p> + +<p>"The tendency of any mind, any science, is to harden, to crystallize, to +reach a stopping point. The student is prone to think that the knowledge +of the physical universe which we have must be the larger part of all +that is knowable—and that soon we will have gathered it all into our +text-books. Of course this is the sheerest self-delusion. A little +thought will make clear that all we know is as nothing compared to that +which remains to be known. Up to ten o'clock last night I was one of +those who believe that the domain of nature is pretty thoroughly mapped +out, staked, and plowed by the investigator, but this morning I find my +horizons again extended. It would be foolish to say that an hour's +experiments and a night of reading along new lines had overturned all +the landmarks of biologic science; but I confess that the world for me +has greatly changed. I held in my hand last night a force <i>in action</i> +for which science has no name and no place—and yet thirty years ago Sir +William Crookes wrote of this same force in the spirit with which he +discussed other elements and powers, and yet his testimony is not +accepted by his fellows even to-day.</p> + +<p>"Your mother met every test cheerfully and instantly, and demonstrated +to me, as Home did to Crookes, as Slade did to Zöllner, that matter, as +we think we know it, does not exist. She convinced me not merely of her +honesty, but of her high powers as a psychic. A calm, persistent, +logical purpose ran through all her manifestations, and her +Voices—whatever they may mean to you—advised me to sit again with her +and to have you and Miss Wood, Mrs. Joyce, and Marie always in the +circle. This I intend to do. I feel at this moment as if no other +business mattered. I have been here at my desk since midnight, reading, +comparing notes, trying to convince myself that I have not gone suddenly +mad.</p> + +<p>"If I was not utterly deceived, if your fresh, keen young eyes are of +any use whatsoever, if the words of Crookes, Wallace, Lombroso, and +their like are of any weight, then we have in your mother a rare and +subtle organism whose powers are of more importance than the rings of +Saturn or the canals of Mars."</p> + +<p>Victor was awed, carried out of himself and his small concerns by the +deep voice of the great lawyer as he formulated his impassioned yet +restrained musings. It was evident that he welcomed this opportunity of +putting his thoughts into words, of ordering his words into argument. +Half in reverie and half in conscious statement to the entranced youth, +he poured forth his troubled soul.</p> + +<p>"I was a materialist when your mother entered my house. I believed that +the man who died went out like a candle. The grave was the end. To me +the so-called revelations of Buddha, Gautama, Christ, were the vague +dreams of the heart-sick, the stricken mourners of the earth—not one of +them brought a beam of hope—but in this modern spirit of +experimentation, in the work of Crookes and his like, I see +a ray of light. Your mother's impersonations of my wife, her +messages—Voices—may be due to mind-reading, to clairvoyance, but <i>the +method of their delivery</i> certainly lies beyond any known law. In that +glows my hope. Grant the possibility of direct writing, of the power of +the mind to <i>think</i> its will upon paper without the aid of hand or pen, +and a whole new world is opened up, the horizons of life are infinitely +extended."</p> + +<p>He paused abruptly. "I was weary of my days. Yesterday I moved as a +creature of habit. This morning it seems that I have a new interest. I +am convinced that in defending your mother I am defending something +precious to the human race; but I must be very sure of my ground. I must +scrutinize every phase of her power, and you must help me. You are young +and well-trained. You have a good mind, and I am persuaded you will go +far. Your mother worships you, lives for you. Now, you and I together +must make such study of her mediumship as America has never seen—a +study which shall have nothing to do with any ism, fad, or prejudice. +Will you help me?"</p> + +<p>Victor, overwhelmed by the confidence of the great lawyer, by the honor +which this plea laid upon his young shoulders, could only stammer, "I +will do my best."</p> + +<p>Bartol thanked him. "I see now, as I never did before, that this power +is a subtle, personal, psychical adjustment, and the part you are to +play is a double one. First, you are her son, and your presence and +influence are indispensable. Secondly, you are vigorous and alert, +comparatively free from the wrecking effect of bereavement such as +mine. I confess I cannot trust myself in the face of the supposed appeal +of my dead. I am like the doctor who refuses to practise upon his own +child—my desires blind me. At the same time I see that we cannot thrust +strangers upon your mother, especially in her present excited state. +What I propose is a series of private experiments, including chemical +tests, instantaneous photographs, and the like, which shall convince +both judge and jury of the reality of these phenomena. This case will +come before my friend, Judge Matthews, and we have in him a just and +penetrating mind. If I can make him feel my own present conviction we +may rest our case safely with any unprejudiced jury."</p> + +<p>He paused and picked up a volume from the table. "Crookes is explicit. +He says he <i>saw</i> the lath move without visible cause, he <i>saw</i> Home +thrust his hand into the hearth and stir the coals, he <i>saw</i> the +accordion play without any reason; and in all this he is sustained by +other men testing each phenomenon by means of electrical registering +devices. Now we must duplicate these. We must go into court armed with +photographs, records, and witnesses. We will make this a <i>cause +célèbre</i>—doing our small part to forward this superb and fearless +European movement. I intend to be both lawyer and physicist hereafter," +he ended, with a smile.</p> + +<p>That the great lawyer was now completely engaged upon his mother's +defense Victor exultantly perceived, and it gave him a feeling of pride +and security, but this was followed by a sense of being uprooted. The +sight of this man, inspired yet confounded by what had come to him in a +single sitting, brought new and disturbing force to all that had +happened to himself. Was it possible that thought could be precipitated +like dew upon a sheet of paper?</p> + +<p>"Now," resumed Bartol, "I have made a further discovery. There is a +brotherhood of what we may call true experimentalists—beginning with +Marc, Thury, and the Count de Gasparin, and running to Flammarion and +Richet, in Paris; the Dialectical Society, Sir William Crookes, Alfred +Russell Wallace, Sir Oliver Lodge, in England; thence back to the +Continent, to Zöllner, Aksakof, Ochorowicz, De Rochas, Maxwell, +Morselli, and Lombroso. I need a condensed record of these experiments, +and a synopsis of each theory. Once within this group, you will learn by +cross-reference the names of all those whom each of these +experimentalists regard as reliable. You can work here or take the books +to your room—perhaps, on the whole, Morselli's record is first in +importance. Bring me a clear and full abstract of that as soon as you +can."</p> + +<p>"I do not read Italian," confessed Victor; "but Leo—Miss Wood—does; +perhaps she will help me."</p> + +<p>"Very good. Now as to the mechanical side of this matter. I have a +nephew who is an expert photographer and a clever electrician. With your +permission, I will send for him and see what he can do. He is a man of +high standing in his profession, and a quiet personality—one that will +not irritate or alarm your mother. Shall I bring him in and give her +over to all?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. I'm sure mother wants you to have full charge."</p> + +<p>"Very well. We will set to work at once, for our case may come up this +week. At its lowest terms, the Aiken charge involves—to us—the +admission that our client is highly suggestible and that she has been +used as an unconscious stool-pigeon by Pettus. For the present we must +proceed upon this basis. Suggestion is more or less accepted at the +present time, and we may be able to get the jury to admit our plea; but +I will not conceal from you the fact that your mother stands in danger +of severe punishment. The <i>Star</i> has singled her out as a scapegoat, and +is behind the Aikens. They will push her hard. I do not think they will +follow her here, but if they do I shall send you to my nephew's +home.—Now to Morselli. We must know just where he stands on this +amazing branch of biology. Will you make this synopsis to-day?"</p> + +<p>Victor's eyes glowed with the fire of his awakened pride and resolution. +"If you'll let me help you, Mr. Bartol, I'll show you what my training +has been. I'm quick in some things. I will collate and put in order all +the latest deductions of science—" He stopped. "But what exactly do you +intend to do with my mother?"</p> + +<p>"I mean to confine her in such wise as to demonstrate precisely what she +can do and what she cannot. I must divide what is conscious from that +which is unconscious. I must understand precisely how she produces these +messages, voices, and faces. We are agreed that she is not <i>consciously</i> +deceptive?" He questioned Victor with a glance.</p> + +<p>"I <i>know</i> she is honest."</p> + +<p>"Very well, we must demonstrate her honesty. We must photograph her +so-called materializations side by side with her own body, and we must +register the work of these invisible hands, and in every possible way +demonstrate that she is the medium and not the originating cause of +these messages. In no other way can we save her from disgrace and a +prison cell."</p> + +<p>The youth went away with a humming sound in his head. The thought of his +gentle little mother herded with vile women within the gray walls of a +penitentiary filled him with such horror that his face went drawn and +white. "It shall not be! I will not have it so!" he said, and yet he saw +no other way in which to prevent it. All depended upon the man whose +impassioned words still rang in his ears, and his admiration for the +lawyer rose to that love which youth yields to the highest manhood.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce met him in the hall, excited, eager. "What did he say?"</p> + +<p>Victor passed his hand over his face in bewilderment. "I must think," he +protested. "He said so much—Where is mother?"</p> + +<p>"She is on the porch—waiting. Let us go out to her."</p> + +<p>He followed her with troubled face, but the bright sunshine and the +songs of the birds miraculously restored him. He looked up and down the +piazza hoping to see Leo, but she was not in sight. He took a seat in +silence, and Mrs. Joyce saw his mother grow pale in sympathy as she read +the trouble in his face.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce urged him to tell what had passed between them, and he +replied:</p> + +<p>"I can't do it. All I can say is this: he believes mother is honest, and +that she has some strange power. He will defend her in court; but he +intends to study into the whole business very closely, and he wants us +to help him."</p> + +<p>"Of course we'll help him," responded Mrs. Joyce, readily.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee went to the heart of the problem. "Just what does he want to +do, Victor?"</p> + +<p>"It is necessary to prove absolutely that you have nothing to do with +these phenomena."</p> + +<p>"But I do have everything to do with them," she replied; "that's what +being a medium means. However, I know what he needs better than you do. +He wants to prove that the messages are supra-normal. Very well, I am +ready for any test."</p> + +<p>"It will be a fierce one, mother. He intends to use electricity and +machines for recording movements and instantaneous photography."</p> + +<p>"I am willing, provided he will proceed in co-operation with your father +and Watts."</p> + +<p>"He will never do that," declared Victor. "He will not begin by granting +the very thing he's trying to prove."</p> + +<p>It was upon this most solemn conference that Leo descended, pale and +restrained, and though Victor sprang up with new-born love in his face, +she did not flush with responding warmth. Her mood of the moonlit walk +had utterly vanished, and he found himself checked, chilled, and thrust +down from his high place of exaltation.</p> + +<p>It was as if she (ashamed of her own weakness) had resolved to punish +him for presumption. He smarted under her indifference, but made no open +protest, though his hand (in the pocket of his coat) rested upon the +jeweled sign of her self-surrender.</p> + +<p>She lost a little of her indifference when she learned that Bartol had +been kept awake all night by the significance of the phenomena he had +witnessed, and she joined heartily in declaring that he must be met in +every demand. "Oh, I wish I might see the experiments," she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"He wishes you to do so," replied Victor, eagerly. "The Voices told him +to have you in the circle, you and Mrs. Joyce—"</p> + +<p>"And Marie," added Mrs. Ollnee. "Marie is psychic."</p> + +<p>"When do we try?" asked Leo, meeting his eyes a little unsteadily, so it +seemed to him.</p> + +<p>Again Mrs. Ollnee answered for him. "To-night; Mr. Bartol is telephoning +now, arranging for it."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" asked Victor.</p> + +<p>"Your father is speaking to me."</p> + +<p>"I hear him!" exclaimed Mrs. Joyce, listening intently.</p> + +<p>"What does he say?" asked Leo.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee again replied. "He says: '<i>Be brave—trust us. We will +protect you.</i>'"</p> + +<p>Looking across at the girl, in whose cheeks the roses were beginning to +bloom again, the youth resented the interposition of the supernatural. +He was eager to approach her, to hint at the memory of her secret, sweet +embrace. As he studied the exquisite curve of her lips their touch +burned again upon his flesh, and he rose with sudden reassertion of +himself. "Come, Leo, let's return to Morselli."</p> + +<p>He had never called her by her first name before, and it produced a +shock in them both. She looked her reproof, but he pretended not to see +it, and neither Mrs. Joyce nor Mrs. Ollnee seemed to think his +familiarity worthy of remark.</p> + +<p>Leo coldly answered: "I can only give a little time. We must go home +to-day."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce promptly said, "We can't desert the ship now, Leo."</p> + +<p>"But we have nothing to wear!" the girl retorted.</p> + +<p>"We'll send down and have some things brought up. Really, this work for +Mr. Bartol is more important than clothes."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is," Leo admitted. "But at the same time one should have a +decent regard to the conventions."</p> + +<p>The colloquy which followed filled Victor with dismay. It appeared that +Leo was really eager to get away, as if she felt herself to be in a +false position. "I can't afford to drop my daily affairs in the city. +Why can't these experiments be put off for a day or two."</p> + +<p>"I don't think we ought to ask a great and busy lawyer to accommodate +himself to our piffling social plans," replied Mrs. Joyce. "A few +minutes ago you were wild to join these experiments, now you are crazy +to go home."</p> + +<p>Victor, who imagined himself in full possession of the reason for her +pause, said nothing; but his eyes spoke, and the girl was restless under +his glance.</p> + +<p>She gave in at last. "Well, if you will send for the things I need—"</p> + +<p>Victor had come from Bartol's study mightily resolved to do speedily and +well any work that might fall to his hand, but as he found himself +seated close beside the daylight girl and listening to her voice +transposing Morselli into English his resolution weakened. What were +ghosts, inventions, theories, compared to the satin-smooth curve of the +maiden's cheek or the delicate flutter of her lashes?</p> + +<p>Try as he would, his attention wandered. The book smelled of the clinic, +the girl of the dawn. Morselli's problem was all of the night, while on +every side the young lover beheld trees flashing green mirrors to the +sun, and flowers riding like dainty boats on the billows of a soft +western wind. Moreover, the girl's voice was like to the purling of +brooks.</p> + +<p>Twice she reproved him for his wandering wits and laggard pen, and the +second time he said: "I can't help it. The time and place invite to +other occupations. Let's go for a walk."</p> + +<p>"A brave student, you are!" she mocked. "Mr. Bartol will find you a +valuable aid in his scientific investigations!"</p> + +<p>Her look, her flushed cheek, and the hint of her bosom set him +a-tremble. The memory of his midnight visitor returned, filling him with +springtime madness.</p> + +<p>"Don't you make game of me," he stammered, warningly. "If you +do—I'll—"</p> + +<p>She raised an amused glance. "What? What will you do, boy?"</p> + +<p>"Boy!" Her pose, her smile were challenges that struck home. With swift, +outflung arm, he encircled her waist and drew her to his breast. "Boy, +am I?"</p> + +<p>She beat upon him, pushed him with her small hands. "Let me go, brute!"</p> + +<p>He laughed at her, exulting in his strength. "Oh, I am a brute now, am +I? Well, I'm not. I'm a man and your master. I want a kiss."</p> + +<p>She ceased to struggle, but into her face and voice came something which +paralyzed his arms. Repentant and ashamed, he released her and stood +before her humbly, while she denounced him for "a rowdy with the manners +of a burglar." "This ends our acquaintance," she added, and she spurned +the book on the floor as if it were his worthless self.</p> + +<p>He was scared now, and boyishly pleaded, "Don't go—don't be angry; I +was only joking."</p> + +<p>She knew better than this. She had seen elemental fire flaming from his +eyes, and dared not remain. With proud lift of head she walked away, +leaving him penitent, bewildered, crushed.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2> + +<h3>THE ORDEAL</h3> + + +<p>In truth, Victor had not kept his head—how could he when each day +brought some new temptation, some unexpected danger, or an unforeseen +barrier? Was ever such a week of trial and perplexity thrust upon a +youth? And the worst of it lay in the fact that there were no signs of a +release from these baffling foes. Love's distress now came to add to his +bewilderment and alarm.</p> + +<p>Leo did not appear at luncheon, and her absence gave him great +uneasiness till Mrs. Joyce explained that she had only gone to town to +fetch some needed clothing. He still carried the little breast-pin in +his pocket, but it no longer seemed the gage of a lovely girl's +affection. He began to admit that he might be mistaken, and that his +dream-woman and the jewel had no necessary connection. "One of the +servants may have dropped it there," he now admitted; "and yet how could +that be? It was under my pillow when I woke, and I am sure it was not +there when I went to sleep. Perhaps I am the one who walks in sleep. +Can it be possible that I took it from her room?"</p> + +<p>It was all very puzzling, but he no longer possessed the fatuous +self-conceit necessary to charge Leo with such self-abandonment as the +dream and the discovery of the brooch had at first seemed to indicate. +He sat among his elders at table, silent and depressed, very far from +the triumphant mood of the morning, and yet the stream of his admiration +set toward the absent one with ever stronger current. The most important +thing in all the world, at the moment, was the winning of her forgiving +smile.</p> + +<p>Bartol was equally distraught, and though he remained politely attentive +to his guests, he was plainly absorbed by some inner problem, and left +to Mrs. Joyce the burden of the conversation.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee, listless and remote, glanced at her host occasionally in +the manner of one who awaits an expected sign. To her son this attitude +on her part was repellant, for he understood it to mean that she was +neither mother nor guest, but an instrument. He wondered whether Bartol +had not, by some overmastering power of the mind, already assumed +control of her thoughts as well as of her actions; and he chafed under +the pressure of his host's abstraction. "Oh, why can't she quit this +business? She must stop it!" he furiously declared.</p> + +<p>Altogether they made a serious and restrained company, and all felt the +loss of Leo. As the meal progressed Mrs. Joyce tried to secure from +Bartol some notion of what his plans were, and he gravely replied:</p> + +<p>"None of you must know. No one shall enter my 'ghost-room' till I am +ready for my tests. In fact, I think I shall send you all out for a +drive this afternoon so that you may not even <i>hear</i> the tap of a +hammer."</p> + +<p>Victor protested that he ought to study, and to this Bartol replied: +"Very well. Take a book with you, but go off the farm. I want to be able +to say that not one of the persons most interested were on the place +while my preparations were going on."</p> + +<p>In truth, the man of law was not merely puzzled by the method of +transmitting the messages; he had been profoundly affected by the words +themselves. His wife and daughter had apparently spoken to him again, +each in distinctive way, upon matters which no one but himself could +recognize.</p> + +<p>But it was not alone what he had himself seen and heard and felt. The +reading to which he had set himself had opened a new world of science +for him. He was amazed at the enormous amount of direct evidence +gathered and presented by careful men. Chemists applying the methods of +the retort, biologists working in their own laboratories, psychologists +and medical experts experimenting as upon a clinical subject, presented +the same or similar facts. In Austria, in Russia, in England, the +results were identical. To his mind, accustomed to sift and relate +evidence, the most convincing thing of all was the substantial agreement +of each and all of these investigators. In a certain sense the sneer of +the faithful was deserved. These men of X-ray penetration and electrical +annunciators had succeeded only in paralleling the phenomena of the +early days of the healer and the magician.</p> + +<p>At its lowest terms—or, as some would say, at its highest terms—Mrs. +Ollnee's power was related to a sort of transcendental physics. Her +magic refilled the most ordinary block of wood or crumb of granite with +all its ancient potency. It widened and deepened the physical universe +inimitably. It discovered the human organism to be unspeakably subtle +and complicate, and made of the soul a visible demonstrable entity. +Unthinkably swift as are the vibrations of the radium ray, this +substance called the brain is capable of receiving, recording, giving +off still more intricate and marvelous motions. Of what avail to call it +"material"?</p> + +<p>At times he glimpsed (as through a narrow opening) unknown regions of +space, not of three or four dimensions, but an infinite number of worlds +within worlds interpenetrating, undying, yet forever changing. At such +moments he perceived that the scientists of to-day were but children +groping among the set scenery of a dark stage, their text-books like +their Bibles, the records of the bewildered and stumbling myriads of +the past.</p> + +<p>"How absurd," he said, "to attempt to make the present conform with the +past! The Hebrew scriptures, the Vedas, the Sagas of the North, are all +useful as records of the aspirations of primitive men, but the real +understanding of the universe is to be obtained now or in the future. +The present contains all that the past has possessed and more. Men are +less of the beast and more of the spirit. Their powers have intensified, +grown psychic, compelling, revealing, and yet the mystery of the +universe remains and must remain."</p> + +<p>In such ways and others his mind ran as he read swiftly through the +wondrous record of experiments made in Rome, in Naples, in Milan. He +liked these Italians better than the greatest of the Englishmen for the +reason that they uttered no apology to the Pope. They proceeded on the +assumption that they were biologists, not priests. They had no care +whether their discoveries harmonized with some man's Bible, or whether +they did not. The question was simple: Could the human organism put +forth from itself a supernumerary hand or arm? Could it project an +etheric double of itself? Could it interpenetrate matter?</p> + +<p>Along these lines he proposed (with Victor's aid) to study his psychic +guest. He had lost sight of the fact that he was to be her defender in +court—or if he remembered it, it was only as a secondary consideration. +He had no faintest hope of directly proving the continued existence of +his wife and children; but he could see that a demonstration of the +power of the living body to project and maintain at a distance an +etheric brain, a voice, made (by inference) a belief in immortality +possible.</p> + +<p>This belief, this possible life of the soul, had nothing to do with the +systems of celestial cosmogony built up by the followers of Christ or +Gautama, its world was not peopled with angels, gods, or devils; it was +merely another and inter-fusing material region wherein the spirit of +man could move, retaining at least a dim memory of the grosser material +plane from which it fled. It was inconceivable, of course, when +scrutinized directly; but he caught a glint of its wonders now and then, +as if from the corner of his half-closed eye.</p> + +<p>These physical marvels were kept very near to him, as he sat at his +desk, by minute tappings on his penholder, on his chair-back, and by +fairy chimes rung on the cut-glass decanter at his elbow. At times he +felt the light touch of hands, and once, as he returned to his seat +after a visit to the library, he found a sheet of strange parchment +thrust under his book, and on this was written in exquisite +old-fashioned script: "<i>Thou hast thy comfort and thy instrument. Hold +not thy hand.</i>" And it was signed "Aurelius."</p> + +<p>This was all very startling; but he referred it to Mrs. Ollnee herself. +To imagine it a direct message from the dead was beyond him.</p> + +<p>At four o'clock the road-wagon brought from the station a small, alert, +and business-like young fellow, accompanied by various boxes, parcels, +and bags. Bartol met him at the door and took him at once to his study. +Neither of them was seen again till dinner-time.</p> + +<p>The servants were profoundly excited by all this, but were too well +trained to betray their curiosity above stairs. They knew now who Mrs. +Ollnee was, but they believed in their master's government and listened +to the hammering in the study with impassive faces—while at their +duties in the hall or dining-room—but permitted themselves endless +conjecture in their own quarters. Marie alone took no part in these +discussions, though she seemed more excited than any of the others.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Victor watched and waited in a fever of anxiety for Leo's +return. At five o'clock she came, but went directly to her room.</p> + +<p>Marie met her tense with excitement. "Oh, Miss Leo, Master has asked me +to sit in the circle to-night, and I'm scared."</p> + +<p>"You mean Mr. Bartol has asked you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—Miss."</p> + +<p>"Well, you should feel exalted, Marie. It will be a wonderful +experience."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so, Miss, but my hands are all cold and my stomach sick with +thinking of it."</p> + +<p>Leo laughed. "You're psychic, that's what's the matter with you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you think so!"</p> + +<p>"Let me take your hands." Marie gave them. Leo smiled. "Cold and wet! +Yes, you are <i>it</i>! But don't let it interfere with dinner. I'm hungry as +a bear. Cheer up. I'd give anything to be a psychic."</p> + +<p>"I shall flunk it, Miss; I can't go through it, really."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! It will be good as a play."</p> + +<p>Half an hour later the others came in, and Leo heard Victor's voice in +the hall with a feeling of distaste. She had gone out to him during that +moonlit walk, and was suffering now a natural revulsion. It had not been +love; it had been (she admitted) only physical attraction, and the +fault, the weakness, had been hers. His presuming upon her moment of +compliance was of the nature of man. It had frightened her to discover +such deeps within herself. "We are all animals at bottom," she charged, +in the unnatural cynicism of youth.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding this mood, she clothed herself handsomely in a gown +which lent beauty to the exceedingly dignified rôle she designed to +play, and so costumed went to her aunt's room to hear the news.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce was lying down, and her voice sounded tired as she said: "We +were ordered out of the house at three, and have been driving ever +since. Alexander, so Marie says, has had strange men working all the +afternoon on some contrivance in his study. Evidently he is going to be +very scientific."</p> + +<p>Leo exclaimed with delight. "Now we'll see if these faces and forms are +real or not."</p> + +<p>"Why, Leo! Do you doubt?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, deep in my heart I do. I cannot quite free myself from the belief +that in some way Lucy produces all these effects."</p> + +<p>"Of course she transmits them. She's a medium."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean it that way—and I don't mean that she cheats; but somehow +I never feel as if anything real came to me direct."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce did not feel able to pursue this line of argument. "What's +the matter between you and Victor?"</p> + +<p>"Who told you anything was the matter?"</p> + +<p>"I sensed it."</p> + +<p>"Well, why didn't you sense the cause?"</p> + +<p>"He's a nice boy; you mustn't ill-treat him, Leo."</p> + +<p>"Your solicitude is misplaced; you should be concerned about me."</p> + +<p>"You? Trust you to take care of yourself! I never knew a more +self-sufficient young person. I am only waiting for some man to teach +you your place."</p> + +<p>This was a frequent subject of very plain though jocular allusion +between them. "A man may—some time—but not a rowdy boy. How does Lucy +take the promise of a test?"</p> + +<p>"Very calmly. She is relying wholly on her 'band' to protect her. She +feels the importance of the trial, and does not shrink from it."</p> + +<p>The Miss Wood whom Victor met as he entered the dining-room that night +was precisely the young lady he had first seen, a calm, smiling, +superior person who looked down upon him with good-humored tolerance of +his youth and sex, putting him into the position of the bad little boy +who has promised not to do so again. She not merely loftily forgave him, +she had apparently minimized the offense, and this hurt worst of all. +"I'm sorry not to have been able to work to-day," she said; "but I +really had to go to town."</p> + +<p>This lofty, elderly sister air after her compliance to his arm +eventually angered him. His awe, his gratitude of the morning were +turned into the man's desire to be master. He set his jaws in sullen +slant and bided his time. "You can't treat me in this way when we're +alone," he said, beneath his breath.</p> + +<p>Later he was hurt by her vivid interest in the young inventor, whom +Bartol introduced as Stinchfield. He was a small man with a round, red +face and laughing blue eyes, but he spoke with authority. His knowledge +was amazing for its wide grasp, but especially for its precision. He +guessed at nothing; he knew—or if he did not know he said so frankly. +In the few short years of his professional career he had been associated +with some of the greatest masters of matter. His acquaintances were all +men of exact information and trained judgment, men who lived amid +physical miracles and wrought epics in steel and stone.</p> + +<p>Naturally he absorbed the attention of the table, for in answer to +questions he touched upon his career, and his talk was absorbing. He had +been a year at Panama. He had helped to survey the route for a vast +Colorado irrigating tunnel, and in his spare moments had perfected a +number of important inventions in automobile construction.</p> + +<p>It was for all these reasons that Bartol had 'phoned him, urging him to +come out and assist in the infinitely more important work of reducing to +law the phenomena which sprang, apparently without rule or reason, from +the trances of his latest and most interesting client. "Here is your +chance to get a grip on the phenomena that have puzzled the world for +centuries," he said.</p> + +<p>When Mrs. Joyce asked Stinchfield if he knew anything about spirit +phenomena, he replied, candidly:</p> + +<p>"Not a thing, directly, Mrs. Joyce. Of course I have read a good deal, +but I have never experimented. It is not easy to secure co-operation on +the part of those gifted with these powers. The trouble seems to be they +consider themselves in a sense priests, keepers of a faith, whereas I +have the natural tendency to think of them in terms of physics."</p> + +<p>Bartol, smiling, raised a hand. "I don't want the company drawn into +controversy. Experts agree that argument defeats a psychic."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee still wore the look of one who but half listens to what is +said, and Mrs. Joyce slyly touched her hand with the tips of her +fingers. "Do you want to go to your room?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ollnee shook her head. "No, I am all right."</p> + +<p>"We will have better results if we 'cut out' dessert," Mrs. Joyce +explained to Bartol. "Over-eating has spoiled many a séance."</p> + +<p>"Is it as physical as that?" exclaimed Stinchfield.</p> + +<p>"I never eat when I am on a hard case," said Bartol.</p> + +<p>Victor began to awaken to the crucial nature of the test which was about +to be made of his mother's powers. This laughing young physicist was +precisely the sort of man to put the screws severely on. It was all a +problem in mechanics for him. Whether the psychic suffered or rejoiced +in the operation did not concern him. "If she is deceiving us in any way +he will discover it," the son forecasted, with a feeling of fear at his +heart. "And yet how can I defend her?"</p> + +<p>Bartol said to Mrs. Ollnee: "Would you mind dressing for the +performance? I'd like you to go with Mrs. Joyce and Marie, and clothe +yourself in all black if possible, so that I can say you came into my +study not merely searched, but re-clothed."</p> + +<p>She said, quite simply: "I have no objection at all. I am in your +hands."</p> + +<p>After the older women left the room Victor drew near to Leo with a low +word. "Poor little mother! she is in the hands of the inquisition +to-night."</p> + +<p>Thrilling to the excitement of the hour, she forgot her resentful +superior pose. "Isn't that little man magnificent? Why didn't you go in +for civil engineering or chemistry?"</p> + +<p>"Because no one had sense enough to advise me," he bitterly answered.</p> + +<p>"Think where that funny little body has carried that head," she +continued, still studying Stinchfield. "If he had only been given +shoulders like yours—"</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you like something about me."</p> + +<p>"I was speaking of your body as a machine for carrying a brain around +over the earth."</p> + +<p>"You seem to think of me as having no brain."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not quite so bad as that. You have a brain, but it's undeveloped."</p> + +<p>"I'm growing up rapidly these days. Seems like I'd lived a year since +our walk last night."</p> + +<p>She colored a little. "Forget that and I'll forgive you."</p> + +<p>"I can't forget that."</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea what the tests are to be?" she asked, in an effort to +change the subject.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm outside of it all. I hope they won't scare my poor little +mother out of her senses. Ought I to step in and stop it?"</p> + +<p>"No, not unless The Voices say so. They welcome investigation—so +they've always said. What I should insist on, if I were you, is plenty +of time and a series of sittings."</p> + +<p>She was speaking now in gracious mood, and he, eager to win from her a +fuller expression of forgiveness, spoke again, bravely. "I hope you are +not going to be angry with me?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," she replied, with disheartening, impersonal cordiality. "I +was partly to blame. I forgot you were a hot-headed boy."</p> + +<p>"Don't take that tone with me—I won't stand it!"</p> + +<p>"How can you help it?" she answered, with a smile, and moved toward the +end of the table where Bartol and Stinchfield still sat smoking and +leisurely sipping their coffee.</p> + +<p>The little engineer sprang up as she drew near, and stood like a soldier +at attention as she said, "Are you in merciless mood to-night, Mr. +Stinchfield?"</p> + +<p>"Far from it," he responded. "I'm in a receptive mood. The fact that Mr. +Bartol has found enough in this subject to wish to investigate +predisposes me to open-mindedness."</p> + +<p>"Suppose we go into the library," suggested Bartol, and they all +followed him across the hall.</p> + +<p>Leo walked with the engineer, leaving Victor in the rear, hurt and +suffering sorely.</p> + +<p>It was not so much her displayed interest in Stinchfield as her haughty +disregard of himself that touched his self-esteem. Thereafter he sulked +like the boy she declared him to be.</p> + +<p>When his mother came in robed in black and looking the sad young widow +he was on the verge of rebellion against the whole plan of action, but +he kept silence while Bartol explained his design.</p> + +<p>"It is customary for 'mediums' to have things their own way, but in this +case Mrs. Ollnee has placed herself entirely in my hands. The tests will +be made in my study." He turned the key and unlocked the door. "Mr. +Stinchfield will enter first and see that the room is as we left it."</p> + +<p>The engineer entered, and after a moment's survey called: "All is +untouched. Come in."</p> + +<p>Bartol led the way with Mrs. Ollnee, and when Victor, the last to enter, +had paced slowly over the threshold Stinchfield locked the door and +handed the key to his host. The inquisition was begun.</p> + +<p>The most notable furnishing of the room was a battery of three cameras, +so arranged that they could be operated instantaneously, and Mrs. Joyce +asked, anxiously, "Has the band consented to this?"</p> + +<p>"They have consented to a trial," answered Mrs. Ollnee, in a faint +voice. She had grown very pale, and her hands were trembling. To Victor +this seemed like the tremor of terror, and his heart was aching with +pity.</p> + +<p>On one side of the room a deep alcove lined with books had been turned +into a dark-room by means of curtains, and before these draperies stood +the inevitable wooden table, but beside it, inclosing a chair, was a +conical cage of wire netting encircled by bands of copper.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce exclaimed, "You do not intend to cage her in that?"</p> + +<p>"That is my intention," calmly replied Bartol.</p> + +<p>"Have the controls consented?" asked Mrs. Joyce.</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Mrs. Ollnee.</p> + +<p>Of the further intricacies of Stinchfield's preparation Victor had no +hint, so artfully were they concealed; but he recognized in it all a +kind of humorous skepticism (which the engineer radiated in spite of his +manifest wish to appear respectful); and as his mother entered her +little torture tent Victor said, "You needn't do this if you don't want +to, mother."</p> + +<p>"Your father commands it," she replied, submissively.</p> + +<p>Stinchfield screwed the cage to the floor and made an attachment to a +small wire which ran along the book-case to a dark corner. Victor was +enough of the physicist to infer that his mother was now surrounded by +an electric current.</p> + +<p>Bartol explained: "We are to start in total darkness, and then we intend +to try various degrees and colors of lights. Mrs. Ollnee, how will you +have us sit?"</p> + +<p>"I want Victor opposite me, with Leo at his right and Louise at his +left. Mr. Stinchfield will then be able to operate his wires. You, Mr. +Bartol, sit at Leo's right and nearest the cage." Her voice was now +quite firm, and her manner decided. "All sit at the table for a time."</p> + +<p>Stinchfield snapped out the lights, one by one, till only two, one red, +the other green, struggled against the darkness. When these went out the +room was perfectly black.</p> + +<p>Bartol then said: "In the cabinet behind the medium is a +self-registering column of mercury, a typewriter, and a switch, which +will light a lamp which hangs in the ceiling above the cabinet, and +which has no other connection. The psychic is inclosed in a mesh of +steel wire too fine to permit the putting forth of a finger. If the lamp +is lighted, the column of mercury lifted, or the typewriter keys +depressed, it will be by some supra-normal power of the medium. There +is also on a table just inside the curtains, with paper and pencils, a +small tin trumpet, a bell, and a zither upon it. If possible, we wish to +obtain a written message independent of Mrs. Ollnee."</p> + +<p>"It is the unexpected that happens," remarked Mrs. Joyce. "Shall we +clasp hands, Lucy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Mrs. Ollnee.</p> + +<p>Victor, reaching for Leo's hand, tingled with something not scientific, +a current of something subtler than electricity which came from her +palm. He thought he detected in her fingers a returning warmth of grasp.</p> + +<p>"They are here," announced Mrs. Joyce, after some ten minutes of +silence.</p> + +<p>"Who are here?" asked Bartol.</p> + +<p>"My band—and many others."</p> + +<p>"How can you tell?"</p> + +<p>"I hear them." A faint whisper soon distinguished itself, and Mrs. Joyce +reported that Mr. Blodgett was speaking. "He says he realizes the +importance of this test, and that he has summoned all the most powerful +of the spirits within reach, and that they will do all they can. He says +the wire cage is a new condition, but they will meet it. Be patient; the +strain on Lucy is very great, but it cannot be avoided."</p> + +<p>In the silence which followed this conversation Leo shuddered and +clutched Victor's hand as if for protection. "The other world is +opening. Don't you feel it?" She whispered. "I can hear the rustle of +wings."</p> + +<p>He, growing very tense himself, answered: "I feel only my mother's +anxiety. Are you comfortable, mother?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She did not reply, and Mrs. Joyce said, "She is asleep." And all became +silent again.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" exclaimed Stinchfield. "Who touched me?"</p> + +<p>"No one in the circle," answered Mrs. Joyce, highly elated.</p> + +<p>"I certainly felt a hand on my shoulder—there it comes again! Shall I +flash my camera?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Not now!</i>" came a clear, full whisper, apparently from the cabinet. +"<i>You would fail now. Wait.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Who spoke?" asked Bartol.</p> + +<p>As there was no reply, Mrs. Joyce asked, "Is it you, Mr. Blodgett?"</p> + +<p>"<i>No!</i>" the whisper replied.</p> + +<p>"Is it Watts?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Yes.</i>"</p> + +<p>"It is Isaac Watts. Now it is his science against yours, Mr. +Stinchfield."</p> + +<p>Bartol fell into the mode at once. "We are glad to be so honored. Now +Watts, I want—and I must have—incontestable proof of the psychic's +abnormal power—nothing else can save her from State prison. Do you +realize that?"</p> + +<p>"<i>We do.</i>"</p> + +<p>"Very well, proceed."</p> + +<p>"<i>What would you call incontestable proof?</i>"</p> + +<p>"I should say a registered pressure on the key or the lighting of the +lamp above the cabinet—"</p> + +<p>A vivid red flash lit up the room. Stinchfield shouted, "The lamp—the +lamp was lit!"</p> + +<p>His excitement, to all but Bartol, was ludicrously high, and Mrs. Joyce +openly chuckled. "What else do you want done, Mr. Science?"</p> + +<p>"Writing independent of Mrs. Ollnee," replied Bartol.</p> + +<p>After a long and painful silence the bell tinkled faintly, and as all +listened breathlessly the zither began to play.</p> + +<p>"Now who is doing that?" asked the engineer.</p> + +<p>"<i>Turn on the green light!</i>" suggested the Voice.</p> + +<p>Stinchfield lit the green lamp, and by its glow the psychic was seen in +her cage reclining limply, her face ghostly white in the light. Bartol +looked about the circle. Every hand was in view, and yet the zither +continued to play its weird and wistful little tune. Leo and Mrs. Joyce +took this as a matter of course, but the men sat in rigid amazement.</p> + +<p>"<i>Lights out!</i>" whispered the Voice.</p> + +<p>Stinchfield put out his lamp. "That is astounding," he said. "I cannot +analyze that."</p> + +<p>"<i>Will you swear the psychic did not do it?</i>" asked the Voice.</p> + +<p>The engineer hesitated. "Yes," he finally said.</p> + +<p>"<i>Is this sufficient?</i>" asked the unseen.</p> + +<p>Bartol replied. "Sufficient for my argument; but I do not understand +these physical effects, and the jury may demand other proof. It will be +necessary for us to show that the messages which misled, as well as +those which comforted, came from some power outside the psychic and +beyond her control. I believe that, as in the case of Anna +Rothe—condemned by a German court to a long term of imprisonment—the +charge of imposture and swindling made against Mrs. Ollnee must lie, +unless I can demonstrate that these messages come from her subconscious +self in some occult way, or from personalities other than herself. In +fact, the whole case against Mrs. Ollnee lies in the question—does she +believe in The Voices as entities existing and acting outside herself—"</p> + +<p>He interrupted himself to say: "Something is tapping my hand. It feels +like the small tin horn."</p> + +<p>"<i>It is!</i>" came the answer in such volume that it could be heard all +over the room.</p> + +<p>"<i>Does this not prove the medium innocent of ventriloquism?</i>"</p> + +<p>"Stinchfield—what about this?" asked Bartol.</p> + +<p>The engineer could only repeat: "I don't understand it. It is out of my +range."</p> + +<p>Again the red lamp above the cabinet flashed, and by its momentary glow +the horn was seen floating high over the cage, in which the medium sat +motionless and ghastly white.</p> + +<p>"Shall I flashlight that?" asked Stinchfield again.</p> + +<p>"<i>No</i>," answered the Voice. "<i>The flashlight is very dangerous. We must +use it only for the supreme thing. Be patient!</i>"</p> + +<p>There was no longer any spirit of jocularity in the room. Each one +acknowledged the presence of something profoundly mysterious, something +capable of transforming physical science from top to bottom, something +so far-reaching in its effect on law and morals as to benumb the +faculties of those who perceived it. It was in no sense a religious awe +with Bartol; it was the humbleness which comes to the greatest minds as +they confront the unknowable deeps of matter and of space.</p> + +<p>The boy and girl forgot their names, their sex. They touched hands as +two infinitely small insects might do in the impenetrable night of their +world (their hates as unimportant as their loves). Only the bereaved +wife and mother leaned forward with the believer's full faith in the +heaven from which the beloved forms of her dead were about to issue.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the curtains of the alcove opened, disclosing a narrow strip of +some glowing white substance. It was not metal, and it was not drapery. +It was something not classified in science, and Stinchfield stared at it +with analytic eyes, talking under breath to Bartol. "It is not +phosphorus, but like it. I wonder if it emits heat?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce explained: "It is the half-opened door into the celestial +plane. I saw a face looking out."</p> + +<p>This light vanished as silently as it came, and the zither began to play +again, and a multitude of fairy voices—like a splendid chorus heard far +down a shining hall—sang exquisitely but sadly an unknown anthem. While +still the men of law and science listened in stupefaction the voices +died out, and the zither, still playing, rose in the air, and at the +instant when it was sounding nearest the ceiling the red lamp above the +cabinet was again lighted, and the instrument, played by two faintly +perceived hands, continued floating in the air.</p> + +<p>Silent, open-mouthed, staring, Stinchfield heard the zither descend to +the table before him. Then he awoke. "I must photograph <i>that</i>!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Not yet</i>," insisted the Voice. "<i>Wait for a more important sign.</i>"</p> + +<p>In Victor's mind a complete revulsion to faith had come. His heart went +out in a rush of remorseful tenderness and awe. The last lingering doubt +of his mother disappeared. Like a flash of lightning memory swept back +over his past. All he had seen and heard of the "ghost-room" stood +revealed in a pure white light. "<i>It was all true—all of it. She has +never deceived me or any one else; she is wonderful and pure as an +angel!</i>" Incredible as were the effects he had seen, and which he had +rejected as unconscious trickery, not one of them was more destructive +of the teaching of his books than this vision of the zither played high +in the air by sad, sweet hands. He longed to clasp his mother to his +bosom to ask her forgiveness, but his throat choked with an emotion he +could not utter.</p> + +<p>Bartol, with tense voice, said to Stinchfield: "We have succeeded in +paralleling Crookes' experiment. With this alone I can save her."</p> + +<p>The flash of radiance from the cabinet interrupted him, and a new +voice—an imperative voice—called:</p> + +<p>"<i>Green light!</i>"</p> + +<p>Stinchfield turned his switch, and there in the glow of the lamp stood a +tall female figure with pale, sweet, oval face and dark, mysterious +eyes.</p> + +<p>"It is Altair!" exclaimed Leo.</p> + +<p>Victor shivered with awe and exalted admiration, for the eyes seemed to +look straight at him. The room was filled with that familiar +unaccountable odor, and a cold wind blew as before from the celestial +visitant, with suggestions of limitless space and cold, white light.</p> + +<p>"<i>Be faithful</i>," the sweet Voice said. "<i>Do not grieve. Do your work. +Good-by.</i>"</p> + +<p>The vision lasted but an instant, but in that moment Stinchfield and +Bartol both perceived the psychic in her electric prison, lying like a +corpse with lolling head and ghostly, sunken cheeks. She seemed to have +lost half her bulk; like a partly filled garment she draped her chair.</p> + +<p>The engineer spoke in a voice soft, pleading, husky with excitement. +"May I flashlight now?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Not that—but this!</i>" uttered a man's voice, and forth from the +cabinet a faintly luminous mist appeared.</p> + +<p>"<i>Red lamp!</i>"</p> + +<p>In the glow of the sixteen-candle-power light the face of a bearded man +was plainly seen. It wore a look of grave expectancy.</p> + +<p>"Shall I fire?" asked Stinchfield.</p> + +<p>"<i>It may destroy our instrument</i>," answered the figure. "<i>But proceed.</i>"</p> + +<p>The blinding flash which followed was accompanied by a cry, followed by +a moan, and Lucy Ollnee was heard to topple from her chair to the floor. +In the moment of horrified silence which followed the Voice commanded:</p> + +<p>"<i>Be silent! Do not stir! Turn off your current.</i>"</p> + +<p>In his excitement Stinchfield turned off both light and current, and +left the whole room in darkness. Victor was on his feet crying out: "She +has fallen! She is dying!"</p> + +<p>"<i>Stay where you are, my son. Keep the room dark. We will take care of +your mother.</i>"</p> + +<p>So absolute was his faith at the moment, Victor resumed his seat, though +he was trembling with fear. Leo reached for his hand. "Don't be +frightened. They will care for her."</p> + +<p>"We have witnessed the miraculous," declared Bartol, stricken into +irresolution by what had taken place.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce, accustomed to these marvels, added her word of warning. +"Don't go to her yet. Spirits are all about her. It has been a terrible +shock, but they will heal her."</p> + +<p>Stunned silent, baffled by what he had seen, the scientist sat with his +hand on the switches controlling the lights ready to carry out the +orders of his invisible colleague.</p> + +<p>"<i>Red light!</i>" commanded the Voice. "<i>Approach—quietly. Victor, take +charge of your mother's body. She will not re-enter it. Her spirit is +with us.</i>"</p> + +<p>Victor went forward and knelt in agony while the engineer lifted the +cage and delivered the unconscious psychic into his hands.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Lucy Ollnee breathed no more. She had died as she had lived, a martyr to +the unseen world.</p> + +<p>But her death was triumphant, for on the sensitive plate of each camera +science and law were able to read the proof of her power. In the dark +face of his grandsire Victor read a stern contempt as though he said:</p> + +<p>"Deny and still deny. In the end you <i>must</i> believe."</p> + +<p>In the alcove on the pad these words were written in his mother's hand: +"<i>Do not grieve. My work is done. I do not go far. I shall be near to +cheer and guide you. Your future is secure. Work hard, be patient, and +all will be well. Farewell, but not good-by.</i>"</p> + +<p>Below, written in the quaint script which Victor recognized, were these +words: "<i>Men of science and of law, blazon forth the marvels you have +seen and tested. Make the world ring with them; in such wise will you +advance veneration for God and remove the fear of death.</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>WATTS.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XV" id="XV"></a>XV</h2> + +<h3>THE RING</h3> + + +<p>Bartol obeyed the command of the invisible powers. He gladly blazoned +the triumphant death of the psychic to the world. Lucy Ollnee became at +once a glorious martyr for her faith, a victim of science. Liberal +journals and religious journals alike lamented that it was necessary for +the sake of proof as regards immortality "that an innocent woman should +be caged and tortured to death with electric batteries," and even the +<i>Star</i>, leader in the war against the mediums, permitted itself an +editorial word of regret, and published in full Bartol's letter, and +also a long interview with Stinchfield, wherein he admitted the +genuineness of the dead woman's claims to supra-normal power.</p> + +<p>But all this was, at the moment, of small comfort to Victor. For a long +time he refused to believe in the reality of his mother's death, +insisting that she was in deep trance (as she had been before); but at +last, when the body was to be removed to Mrs. Joyce's home and Doctor +Steele and Doctor Eberly had both examined it and found no signs of +life, he gave up all hope of her return.</p> + +<p>Accompanied by Mrs. Joyce, he visited the California Avenue flat for the +last time to pack up the few things of value which his mother had been +permitted to acquire. His attitude toward the chairs, the slates, the +old table, had utterly changed. They were now instinct with his mother's +power, permeated with some part of her subtler material self, and he was +minded to preserve them. They were no longer the tools of a conjuror; +they were the sacred relics of a priestess.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Joyce asked permission to house them for him till he had secured a +home of his own, and to this he consented, for with his present feeling +concerning them he was troubled by the thought of their being stored in +dark vaults among masses of commonplace furniture.</p> + +<p>"I shall keep the table in my own room," said Mrs. Joyce. "It may be +that Lucy will be able to manifest herself to me through it. I have been +promised such power."</p> + +<p>To this Victor made no reply, for while he now believed absolutely in +all that his mother claimed to do, he had not been brought to a belief +in the return of the dead, and it was this fundamental doubt which made +his grief so bitter. "If only she could know that I believe in her," he +said to Leo, on the morning of the day when his mother's body was to be +taken away. "Think of it! She died a thousand times for the curious and +the selfish, only to be called an impostor and a cheat—and I, her only +son, was afraid the charge was true. If only I could have told her that +I believed in her!"</p> + +<p>"She knows," the girl gently assured him. They were seated at the moment +in the library and the morning was very warm and silent. The birds +seemed to be resting in preparation for their evensong. "Your mother is +near us—she may be listening to us this minute."</p> + +<p>"I can't believe that," he declared, sadly. "I'm not sure that I want to +believe it. I can't endure the thought of my mother's destruction, and +yet the notion of her floating about somewhere like a wreath of mist is +sorrowful to me."</p> + +<p>Leo confessed to somewhat the same feeling. "Heaven—any kind of +heaven—has always been incomprehensible to me, and yet we must believe +there is some sort of system of rewards and punishments. Anyhow, your +mother's death was glorious. She died as she would have wished to +die—in proving her faith."</p> + +<p>"She gave too much," he protested. "All her life she was set apart to do +a martyr's work. I understand now why my father couldn't stand it. I +know how he must have resented these Voices, and I cannot blame him for +going away. Would you marry a man like Stainton Moses or David Home?"</p> + +<p>She recoiled a little before the thought. "Of course not—but—"</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"Your mother was charming. If your father really loved her—"</p> + +<p>"He did! I'm sure of that, at first, but these 'ghosts' destroyed his +home. My mother confessed to me that they tormented my father for his +unbelief, and he had to go."</p> + +<p>"They are together now, and he believes."</p> + +<p>Victor fixed a penetrating look upon her. "Do you really believe that +the dead speak to us?"</p> + +<p>"I see no reason why they shouldn't—if they want to. How else can you +explain these Voices?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "I'm afraid these modern Italian scientists are +right. The Voices were only 'parasitic personalities,' nothing else. But +let's not talk of them. I'm tired of the 'ghost-room'—all my life I've +had it—and now I'm going to forget it if I can."</p> + +<p>"Hush! Your mother may hear you and grieve."</p> + +<p>"If she can hear me she will understand my feeling. I like the world as +it is—I don't want the supernatural thrust into it."</p> + +<p>"I think you're wrong," she said, firmly. "The larger view is that of +the scientist who recognizes nothing supernatural in the universe. I +would not part with what your mother gave me for huge sums. I've had +wonderful, thrilling experiences. Remember Altair!"</p> + +<p>Altair! Yes, he remembered her, and remembering her he recalled the +graceful figure at his bedside and the touch of the faintly clinging +lips. That mystery remained the most inexplicable of them all.</p> + +<p>While thus he sat, dream-filled and rapt, the girl studied him, and her +face changed. "You believe in Altair. What's more, you love her, and I +can't blame you for it. She is more beautiful than angels. You will not +forsake the 'ghost-room' so long as you have a hope that she may +return."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken," he protested. "Altair is only a dream. I worship her +as a figure in a vision. Do you know what I think she was?" Her look +questioned, and he went on. "For days I have pondered on her face and +figure, in the light of modern science, and I am convinced that she was +nothing but a union of my mother's astral self and you."</p> + +<p>She looked at him in startled thought. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>He explained eagerly. "You must have noticed how much like my mother she +was? Her brow was the same—her eyes the same—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they were a little like hers."</p> + +<p>"But her mouth and chin were exactly like yours. Her hands were like +yours. She held her head exactly as you do—and then she changed; +sometimes my mother predominated in her, sometimes you were the +stronger."</p> + +<p>The girl was deeply affected by the significance of this analysis. "You +imagined all that."</p> + +<p>He pushed on. "I did not, and, furthermore, Altair never came till you +sat with my mother. She never attained such power—so your aunt +agrees—till I came into the circle. She represented my conception of my +mother and you. I loved my mother, and I admired you—and out of my love +and admiration Altair was created."</p> + +<p>"That is absurd! If ever a spirit came from heaven, Altair was that one. +Why, she was palpable! I've touched her hands."</p> + +<p>He said, slowly: "She was beautiful, I confess, so beautiful that on +that first night she made even you seem coarse and material."</p> + +<p>"I felt your disdain," she thrust in, with sudden hurt.</p> + +<p>"But that was only for the moment. I could see nothing but her face—so +sad, so wistful. But let me ask you something. Did you, the night after +our walk on the drive in the moonlight—did you dream of me?"</p> + +<p>Her lip curled in a wondering smile. "What a question to ask of me!"</p> + +<p>"But did you? Come now, be honest. I have a reason for asking—did you?"</p> + +<p>"What is your reason for asking?"</p> + +<p>"That night Altair came to my bedside."</p> + +<p>Her eyes flashed and she rose to her feet. "You have an Oriental +imagination."</p> + +<p>"Don't go—hear me out. It was a beautiful experience."</p> + +<p>"Apparently it was. To me your story is insulting."</p> + +<p>He lost patience a little, and said bluntly: "You act as if I charged +<i>you</i> with something. I say, 'Altair' came, and to me her visit was very +<i>significant</i> and beautiful, because she testified to me that both you +and my mother were thinking of me. It was, in fact, your united astral +selves that paid that visit. Altair was your materialized friendship and +my mother's love."</p> + +<p>"What a fantastic notion!" she said; but she lingered, held by something +new and masterful in his voice.</p> + +<p>She added, with some humor: "Be kind enough to imagine that your +mother's 'astral self' preponderated in that vision."</p> + +<p>"I do, for when Altair stooped to kiss me—"</p> + +<p>"Stop!" she cried out, sharply; "you go too far!"</p> + +<p>"Leo!" he called, and his voice checked her as quickly as if he had +caught her by the arm. "I am not joking; I am very serious. You must +remember that I have lost both my mother and Altair—you alone remain—I +can't afford to lose you. You are all I have now. Don't be angry with +me."</p> + +<p>She considered him with a return to pity. "Forgive me," she hurriedly +retracted. "I am very sorry for you, and I don't want to seem +unfriendly; but it is only a week since we met. What can you know of me +in so short a time?"</p> + +<p>"I loved you the moment you came into my mother's room."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. You hated me."</p> + +<p>"I did not like the way you treated me; but I never hated you. I was +afraid of you."</p> + +<p>"If your mother can hear you say that, she is certainly smiling, for she +knows you are not afraid of anybody. You're a very stiff-necked person."</p> + +<p>"I know you have a right to laugh at me; but I believe our 'guides' have +brought us together. I need you—now—and if I dared I'd ask you to wear +this." He disclosed a ring in his hand.</p> + +<p>She looked at it narrowly. "I know that ring; it was your mother's. She +kept it in a little velvet box together with an old-fashioned locket."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is hers. It isn't very grand, compared with your own, but I +wish you'd put it on and consider it my promissory note."</p> + +<p>"<i>Your</i> promissory note!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I promise to buy it back with all the money you have lost through +my mother's advice. Will you wear it for me?"</p> + +<p>"Where do you expect to find so much money?"</p> + +<p>"Right here, in this great city. Mr. Bartol is to take me into his +office. He's like a father to me already; but I don't expect him to give +me anything. I'm going to work, and I'm going to pay you back the money +you have lost."</p> + +<p>Extending her little finger, she took the ring daintily on its tip. "All +that sounds very romantic; and yet young men do win wealth and fame +right here—and why not you?"</p> + +<p>"That's just it. I may be the future monopolizer of air-ships—" The +maid, appearing at the moment, announced that a lady wished to see Mr. +Ollnee.</p> + +<p>"Did she give her name?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; but she said she was a relative, sir."</p> + +<p>"Tell her I will see her in a moment."</p> + +<p>As the maid left Leo rose.</p> + +<p>"Don't go!" pleaded Victor. "My visitor can wait. You haven't said +whether you will wear my ring or not. I don't know how long it may be +before I can 'make good,' but it will help mightily to know that you are +expecting me to do so."</p> + +<p>She pondered, but her face was kindly and her voice very gentle as she +said: "I don't want to seem unkind now in your hour of grief, but I +can't wear the ring." His eyes filled with tears, and she added: "I'll +keep it for you. The real question between us will have to be decided +some time in the future—when we know each other better. You need not +think of paying me. Go and see your relation. It may be a rich aunt +come to adopt you."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you <i>learn</i> to love me?" he asked, poignantly.</p> + +<p>"I might." She smiled. "I like you already." And she went away, leaving +him with stronger will to dare and do.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="XVI" id="XVI"></a>XVI</h2> + +<h3>CONCLUSION</h3> + + +<p>As Victor entered the library he was met by a very pale, wide-eyed young +woman in a picturesque black hat. Her voice was deep and full of +dramatic fervor as she said:</p> + +<p>"You are Victor Ollnee?"</p> + +<p>"I am."</p> + +<p>Her eyes, large and very dark, almost black, gazed at him appealingly, +as she said: "Pardon me for a little deception. I am your relation only +in a spiritual sense—I share your sorrow, and in other ways I am +related to you. I was eager to see you, and I did not send in my name +for the reason that it would have repelled you, and you might have +refused to meet me."</p> + +<p>Victor thought her a very singular and very theatric young person. +Certainly she was under some strong stress of emotion which caused her +lips to quiver and her voice to vibrate tensely. He knew her now. She +was the girl he had confronted in the court-room, and he stared at her, +uncertain of his footing. She seemed like some of the figures he had +seen on the stage, vivid, swift of change, unreal, but her voice was +vibrantly charming. He was sure she was the girl he had met on the +street, and she had stood beside the man Aiken during their brief +appearance in the court-room.</p> + +<p>She approached a step or two, as if throwing herself on his mercy. "My +name is Florence Aiken. I am a newspaper writer. I am the one who +brought all this trouble to you. It was I who wrote that first article +in the <i>Star</i> denouncing your mother."</p> + +<p>He recoiled before her quite as dramatically as she could have wished. +"You wrote that!" he exclaimed. "I thought a man did that job."</p> + +<p>She could not help a slight expression of pride in her work. "It was +mine, every word of it. I was terribly vindictive, I admit; but you must +know I had some provocation. Let me tell you? Will you listen to me? +Please do! I'm not so heartless as I seemed in that article, and I +cannot rest till I have made my peace with you."</p> + +<p>Her voice, her pale face, her intense eyes, and her tense contralto +voice softened his resentment.</p> + +<p>"I'll listen, but you can't expect me to forgive a thing like that."</p> + +<p>"May I sit?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," he answered, but remained standing, as if to retain his +guard.</p> + +<p>"Don't condemn me altogether," she pleaded. "Wait till you know how much +reason I had to hate the whole brood of clairvoyants, seers, and +psychics. My dear old grandmother was an easy mark for the cheapest of +them, and I, who paid for her nurse out of my own thin little purse, and +waited upon her night and day, had a right to consider her small fortune +my own. It wasn't much, but it was enough to pay the cost of a flat, and +to see it all going to fakers and greasy palmists—well, it was too +much. It made a crusader of me—and it would have made one of you. It +was not a question of your mother—alone. I went to our managing editor +at last, and told him my story. I made it clear to him that the city was +full of these harpies who prey on poor old women like my grandmother. +'They ought to be driven out of town,' I said. 'Cut loose,' he said; and +I did. My article on your mother was honest. I believed her to be simply +another one of the same sort of impostors. I took her just like three or +four others whose methods I knew, and I got my cousin, Frank Aiken, to +bring suit against her. I thought she was a crook. I feel differently +to-day. Since talking with Judge Bartol and Mr. Stinchfield (I handled +both those assignments) I've changed my estimate of her. I have written +a page article vindicating her. I've come to tell you that her death in +that cage has changed the situation for me. I am convinced that she was +sincere, and I want to humble myself before you, her son, and ask your +forgiveness. I know you feel more like killing me, but here I am—I +couldn't rest without letting you know that I need your pardon."</p> + +<p>Her plea, swift, voiced in music, and illustrated by her pale face, +glowing eyes, and sensitive lips, powerfully affected him. He towered +over her in savage silence for a little while, then with effort he said: +"I don't see how I can do anything to you, for I felt the same way—I +mean I didn't believe in my mother's business."</p> + +<p>She became radiant. "Didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"No. Up to the very moment when that red lamp was lit I could not +believe in her. I couldn't help doubting—even now I need the +photographs to bolster up my belief."</p> + +<p>The reportorial instinct awoke in her. "I wish I might see those +photographs—to reassure myself, not for publication. May I see them?"</p> + +<p>He did not observe that her desire for his pardon seemed suddenly to be +met, even though he had not yet put it in words, and his mind was wholly +on the question of the photographic tests as he slowly replied:</p> + +<p>"They are very marvelous—especially those which came on the unexposed +plates."</p> + +<p>Her eyes widened in wonder. "What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stinchfield had several packages of plates opened ready to use in +his cameras, but The Voices only let him make one flashlight. It seems +as if they knew the experiment would end my mother's life, and yet on +each of the unexposed plates are faces and forms, some of which Mr. +Bartol 'recognized.'"</p> + +<p>"Let me see them—please!" she pleaded, earnestly. "They will comfort +me, too, for I am under conviction."</p> + +<p>He took from his pocket a package of small photographs. "Here," he said, +"are the three flashlights of my grandfather, Nelson Blodgett."</p> + +<p>The young woman almost snatched them in her eager haste. "Oh, wonderful! +What a document! The medium plainly in her cage—and this figure on the +same plate."</p> + +<p>"It is the most convincing picture in existence," he said, sadly, "but +it cost me my mother."</p> + +<p>She fixed a dreamy gaze upon him. "If this is a spirit—then your mother +can return to you. Has she done so?"</p> + +<p>He moved uneasily. "I have not asked her to do that. I don't care to be +controlled or guided by spirits, not even by her spirit."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>His voice was firm and assured as he replied: "Because I want to live +and work out my career like other men. I don't want to see or hear any +more of the 'astral plane'—" He checked himself. "It isn't natural for +a man like me to be mixed up with all this spirit business, and I'm +tired of it."</p> + +<p>"I see what you mean. You want to work and woo and marry like other men. +You're right; of course you're right. What have we who are young and +vigorous to do with the dead, anyway? Unless all human life is a +mistake, a foolish thing, it's our business to live it humanly." She +held out her hand for the other pictures. "Let me see them all, please!"</p> + +<p>He handed them to her. "There were three cameras," he explained, "hence +these duplicates. These faces are likenesses of Mr. Bartol's wife and +two children—and these plates, remember, were not exposed—they are of +Altair, one of the guides."</p> + +<p>She studied the shadowy forms with keen gaze. "One of the strange things +about this 'spirit photograph' business is the resemblance they all bear +to pictures—I mean, they all look as if they were photographs of framed +portraits or drawings."</p> + +<p>Again he betrayed restlessness. "Mr. Stinchfield noticed that."</p> + +<p>"What is his explanation?"</p> + +<p>"He does not think they come from spirits at all."</p> + +<p>She urged him to unbosom himself. "You have a conviction? What is it?"</p> + +<p>"His theory is that they are only mental images transferred by some +unknown mental power to the plates."</p> + +<p>"What about the figure of your grandsire?"</p> + +<p>"His theory is that the figure was really the etheric self of my +mother—shaped to the form like my grandsire by her own mind."</p> + +<p>She stared at him. "And you accept that?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what else to believe. Yes, I accept that. I don't believe +the dead have any right to talk and fool with the lives of the living +the way I've been fooled with and side-tracked." His voice was full of +fervor now. "I'm going to live my own life hereafter irrespective of the +dead—responsible only to the living. I will not be disciplined by +ghosts."</p> + +<p>The girl laid the photographs down softly and looked at him with frank +admiration. "You're a very extraordinary young man," she said, sagely.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not!" he protested. "I'm just a good average. A week ago my +hottest ambition was to carry the Winona ball team to victory. If I had +the money and the courage I'd go back there to-morrow and finish my +course."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by courage?"</p> + +<p>"Well, you know what I'd be loaded up with. To go back there now would +be the devil and all. Your article broke my peaceful combination just a +week ago last Sunday."</p> + +<p>"But I have undone my work. I have vindicated your mother. You have a +right to be proud of her. She was as real a martyr as ever went to the +stake."</p> + +<p>"I know, but I'll be a marked figure, all the same."</p> + +<p>"You were a marked figure before. But consider all explanations have +been made—wait till you read my article. Go back!" she insisted. "I +wish you would." Her voice was rich with pleading. "It would make me +happy. I feel horribly guilty—really I do. I'm only a grubbing +reporter-person—I've had to earn my way and keep house for my +grandmother besides; but I'd gladly share my salary to help you return +to college. Please go back—it will relieve my mind of a big burden."</p> + +<p>He took her hand in the spirit in which it was offered. "I am within a +few days of graduation, but—"</p> + +<p>"Please go back—for the sake of a poor little newspaper wretch who +feels that she has indirectly spoiled your career." She pressed his hand +fervidly. "Promise me this and you'll take a monstrous load off my +shoulders."</p> + +<p>She had the face, the temperament of the actress, and loved to +experiment on the hearts of men; but she was deeply in earnest now. +Bartol and Stinchfield had really changed her point of view as regards +Mrs. Ollnee, and this "situation" appealed to her at the moment with +irresistible power. Life was to her a drama, intense, never-ending, +romantic, and at the moment she loved this splendid young man orphaned +by her hand.</p> + +<p>He could not resist her caressing voice, her appealing eyes, her +sensitive lips, and he said, "I promise."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she said, and, dropping his hand, she lifted burning yet +tearful eyes to his face. "You are very generous."</p> + +<p>He went on, "I am sure you meant well."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to rest under false imputations," she repeated. "I did not +mean well. That first article was savage. I was angry. I struck blindly, +but I struck to hurt."</p> + +<p>"Well, all that is ended," he replied, sadly. "My mother is to be buried +to-day."</p> + +<p>She looked at him in silence for a moment. "I have one more request to +make," she said, at last, and her voice was very soft and hesitating. +"I'd like to look upon her face. I want to ask her forgiveness."</p> + +<p>His heart melted at this plea, and he turned away to hide his tears. +When he could speak he said: "She is very beautiful. I cannot believe +even now that she is dead; but I have given my consent to have her taken +to the cemetery. I will show her to you."</p> + +<p>In silence she followed him up the stairway and into the cool, dark room +where the coffin lay.</p> + +<p>The windows were open at the bottom, and though the shades were drawn, +the chamber was filled with soft light. The cries of the barn-yard and +the twitter of birds outside seemed strangely softened as the two young +people so singularly brought together approached the still form of the +seeress and looked into her face serene with the infinite repose of +death.</p> + +<p>Victor, with choking throat and burning eyes, stood at the bier unable +to utter a sound; but the girl, after a long glance, took a rose from +her bosom, and, with a sigh, gently laid it on the still, small, white +hands of the silent form.</p> + +<p>"Accept my homage," she intoned, softly, "and if you can still see and +hear, pardon me and forget my bitter words."</p> + +<p>She stood a moment thereafter as if involuntarily listening, waiting, +hoping—but the dead gave no sign.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h4>THE END</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="Books_by_HAMLIN_GARLAND" id="Books_by_HAMLIN_GARLAND"></a>Books by HAMLIN GARLAND</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cavanagh—Forest Ranger</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Captain of the Gray-Horse Troop.</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Hesper</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Money Magic.</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Light of the Star.</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Tyranny of the Dark.</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Shadow World</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Main-Travelled Roads</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Prairie Folks</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Rose of Dutcher's Coolly</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Moccasin Ranch.</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Trail of the Gold-Seekers</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Long Trail.</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Boy Life on the Prairie.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Victor Ollnee's Discipline, by Hamlin Garland + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTOR OLLNEE'S DISCIPLINE *** + +***** This file should be named 34250-h.htm or 34250-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/5/34250/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Victor Ollnee's Discipline + +Author: Hamlin Garland + +Release Date: November 8, 2010 [EBook #34250] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTOR OLLNEE'S DISCIPLINE *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + + + + + + + + + VICTOR OLLNEE'S DISCIPLINE + + BY HAMLIN GARLAND + + AUTHOR OF "THE CAPTAIN OF THE GRAY-HOUSE TROOP" + "MAIN-TRAVELLED ROADS" ETC. + + + HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS + NEW YORK AND LONDON + MCMXI + + + + + +CONTENTS + + +I. VICTOR READS THE FATEFUL STAR + +II. VICTOR INTERROGATES HIS MOTHER + +III. VICTOR MAKES A TEST + +IV. VICTOR THROWS DOWN THE ALTAR + +V. VICTOR RECEIVES A WARNING + +VI. VICTOR IS CHECKED IN HIS FLIGHT + +VII. THE RETURN OF THE SPIRIT + +VIII. VICTOR REPAIRS HIS MOTHER'S ALTAR + +IX. THE LAW'S DELAY + +X. A VISIT TO HAZEL GROVE + +XI. LOVE'S TRANSLATION + +XII. A MOONLIGHT CALL AND A VISION + +XIII. VICTOR TESTS HIS THEORY + +XIV. THE ORDEAL + +XV. THE RING + +XVI. CONCLUSION + + + + +VICTOR OLLNEE'S DISCIPLINE + + + + +I + +VICTOR READS THE FATEFUL STAR + + +Saturday had been a strenuous day for the baseball team of Winona +University, and Victor Ollnee, its redoubtable catcher, slept late. +Breakfast at the Beta Kappa Fraternity House on Sunday started without +him, and Gilbert Frenson, who never played ball or tennis, and Arnold +Macey, who was too effeminate to swing a bat, divided the Sunday morning +_Star_ between them. + +"See here, Gil," called Macey, holding up an illustrated page, "do you +suppose this woman is any relation to Vic?" + +Frenson took the paper and glanced at it casually. It contained a +full-page lurid article, printed in two colors, with the picture of a +tall, serpentine, heavy-eyed, yet beautiful woman, whose long arms +(ending in claws) reached for the heart of a sleeping man. "What is it +all about?" asked Frenson, as his eyes roamed over the text. + +"It seems to be an attack on a medium named Ollnee who pretends to be +able to bring the dead to life. According to this article, she's the +limit as a fraud. You don't suppose--Ollnee is an unusual name--" + +"Oh, not so very. I suppose it's another way of spelling Olney. I don't +see any reason to connect old Vic with any such woman as that." + +"No, only he's always been kind of secretive about his folks. You'll +admit that. Why, we don't even know where he came from! Nobody does, +unless you do." + +Frensen dipped into the article. "Wow! this _is_ a hot one! Lucile has a +case for libel all right--unless the reporter happens to be telling the +truth." + +"Hello, Vic!" he shouted, as a tall, broad-shouldered, but rather lean +young fellow entered the room. "Vic, you are discovered!" + +"What's the excitement?" asked the newcomer. + +"Here's an article in the Sunday paper you should see. It's all about a +woman namesake of yours, a medium named Lucile Ollnee. The name is +spelled exactly like yours. Say, old man, I didn't know you were the son +of an 'infamous faker.' Why didn't you let us know." His tone was +comic. + +Young Ollnee took the paper quietly, but, as he read, a look of +bewilderment came upon his face. + +"How about it, Vic?" repeated Macey. "You seem to be hard hit. Is she an +aunt or a sister?" + +Rising abruptly, Victor left the room, taking the paper with him. + +Macey uttered a word of astonishment, but Frensen, after a pause, said, +soberly, "There's something doing here, Sissy. He didn't act a bit +funny; but it's up to us to keep quiet till we know just where we stand. +If that woman _is_ related to Vic he's going to be fighting mad. I guess +I'd better go up and see how he's taking it. He certainly did seem +jolted." He turned to utter a warning. "Don't say anything to the other +fellows till I come back." + +Macey promised, and Frenson went up the stairs and into the little study +which he and Victor shared in common. The windows were open and the +bird-songs and the fragrance of a glorious May morning flooded the room +with joy, but in the midst of its radiance young Ollnee sat, bent above +the fateful printed page. + +As Frenson entered he raised his head. "Have you read this thing, +Frens?" he asked, tremulously. + +"Part of it." + +"Frens, Lucy Ollnee is my mother. This article is full of lies, but it's +based on facts. I'd like to kill the man that wrote it," he added, +savagely. + +"Let me look at it again," said Frenson. + +Victor handed the paper to him and sat in silence while Frenson went +over the article with studious care. It was an exceedingly able and +bitter presentation of the opposition side. It left no excuse, no +palliation for a career such as that of Lucile Ollnee. + +"She is fraudulent from beginning to end," the writer passionately +declared. "From her heart outward she is as vile, as remorseless, as +mysterious as a vampire. No one knows from what foul nest she sprang. +She battens upon the sick, the world-weary, the sorrowing. Her +hokus-pokus is so simple that it would deceive no one but those who are +blinded by their own tears. She has just one human trait. She is said to +be educating a son at an Eastern university on the profits of her vile +trade. It is said that she is keeping him in ignorance of her way of +life." + +Frenson looked up at his friend. "Vic, what do you know of this +business?" + +"Almost nothing. I don't know very much of even my mother's relations. +The first that I can remember is our home in La Crescent. My father's +name was Paul Ollnee, but I can't remember him. He died before I was +three years old. We left La Crescent when I was about eight and went to +the city. I can't remember very much previous to that time, but after we +moved to the city I know my mother set up her 'ghost-room' again." + +"Ghost-room?" + +"Yes, that's what I called it. I can't remember when there was not a +'ghost-room' in our house. As far back as when I was five years old we +had it, and I was just getting old enough to wonder about it when we +moved to the city." + +"What kind of a den was this ghost-room?" + +"It looked like any other bright and pretty room, but I never got more +than a glimpse of it, for I was afraid of it. There was nice paper on +the wall, I remember, and a desk with books, and there were some tall +tin horns standing in the corner. Oh yes, and always an old walnut +table. There's something queer about that. I don't understand why my +mother should have taken that table down to the city with her, but she +did. It was just an old, battered-up walnut stand, and yet she seemed to +think the world of it. She put it in the center of her room in the city +just as she used to have it in our old home. Oh, how I hated that room! +There was something uncanny about it. There was always a string of +strange men and women going into it with my mother, and I was always +sent away to play when they came. Oh, Gil"--his voice broke--"she is a +medium, but she's not the awful creature they make her out." + +"Of course not. We all know how these things go." + +"You see, I went away to boarding-school when I was ten. This paper +says I was sent away to keep me clear of the business that went on at +home. I'm not sure but that is true, for I've seen very little of my +mother's home life since." + +"Didn't you visit her during vacations?" + +"No, she always came to see me, and we took trips here and there. We'd +go East, or to Colorado somewhere. Oh, we've had such splendid times +together, Gil. She brought me presents and sent me money--" He looked +out of the window for a few moments before he could go on. "And now--The +other fellows will see that article, of course." + +"Yes, the whole town will be reading it in an hour. However, they may +not connect you with it." + +"Oh yes, they will, and they'll believe every word of it, and they'll +understand that I am Lucy Ollnee's son. This finishes me, Gil. Everybody +will think I _knew_ how my mother earned her money, and they'll despise +me for taking it." He rose in an agony of shame. "I might as well be at +the bottom of the lake." + +"Don't take it so hard, old man. You're a big favorite here," said +Frenson, with intent to offer consolation. "The work you've done on the +team will go a long ways toward carrying you through this thing. Brace +up; all is not lost." + +The stricken youth was not listening. "Just think, Gil, she's been doing +all this for me! I knew she claimed to have messages, but I didn't know +that I was living on money earned in that way. You see, we own some +houses in La Crescent, and I just took it for granted that our living +came from them." He was white with pain now. "This ends my career here. +I've got to get out, and do it quick. I'll be the laughing stock of the +whole town by noon." + +Frenson, deeply sympathetic, did his best to minimize the effect of the +disclosure, but with Victor's corroboration of the reporter's charges, +he was forced to admit that Mrs. Ollnee was either an imposter or a +woman of unsound mind. Little by little he drew from the stricken youth +other interesting details. + +"I remember having a fight with a city boy by the name of Barker," said +Victor, "because he yelled at me 'sonova medium' till I stopped his +mouth with my fist. It seems to me as if it were the very next day that +my mother took me to Mirror Lake and put me in a boarding-school. That +fight must have influenced her. Perhaps up to that moment our neighbors +had let us alone. I can understand now why she always visited me and why +she never offered to take me to the city." + +He did not say that this very aloofness had made of her, to him, a +serene and lofty figure, but so it was. She had come to him out of the +unknown distance, a mysterious queen of the fairies, with something very +sad and very sweet in her face and something very appealing in her +voice. There was nothing commonplace, nothing associated with toil or +worry in his memory of her. Her broad, full brow, her deep-blue eyes, +and her frail little body put her apart from other women. As he dwelt +now on her dignity, her loving care, his heart grew strong with +resolution. "Gilbert," he called, suddenly, "I'm going down there and +defend her from those beasts." + +Frenson was not surprised. "I reckon that's your little stunt," he +retorted, student-fashion, but he was very much in earnest, +nevertheless. "I'm wondering what old Boyden will say." + +Victor believed in Professor Boyden and honored him, but at the moment +the thought of facing him was painful. Boyden was one of those who +tested the human soul with the electric bell, the clock, and the +spymograph. Delusions were among his hobbies. Hysteria was a great word +with him. Man lived among appearances. Personality was not a unit, but +an aggregate, liable to disassociation, and the hysterical girl was +capable of deceiving the very elect. To him, mediumship was merely the +sign of immorality or epilepsy. + +A part of this disrupting philosophy had entered Victor's head, and as +he slowly and minutely re-read that cruel newspaper analysis of his +sweet and gentle mother he was startled, but a little comforted by the +thought that she might be the victim of her subconscious self, "She +can't mean to cheat. Of that I am certain. But she needs me just the +same. I'm going to earn her living and mine in some honest way." + +Two or three of his most intimate friends came up after breakfast and +started in to chaff, but, being far past the stage of evasion, Victor +frankly confessed his relationship to the medium and hotly defended her, +ending by mournfully, declaring his intention of leaving school at once +and forever. + +Thereupon, his visitors also became very serious, perceiving the tumult +of doubt and despair into which he had been thrown, and one by one they +fell into awkward silence and slipped away, leaving him alone with +Frenson, who had been giving the most careful thought to the whole +situation. + +"Of course the fellow who wrote this article had his own private grouch. +Any one can see that. And your friends are not going to condemn your +mother on what he says. But all the same, you're wound up pretty tight, +Vic; there's no two ways about that. According to your own statement she +does claim to hear voices, and she does claim to give messages from the +dead. Now, I'm not saying all this is impossible, but you know as well +as I do that Boyden and his kind say 'Nitsky' to the whole business." + +"I don't care what she's done," retorted Victor; "she has stood by me +like a brick all these years, and now it's up to me to do something for +her when she's in trouble." + +Frenson admitted that this was a human and righteous resolution on the +part of his chum and offered to help in any possible way. + +Victor, too full of grief and despair to think clearly, went about his +packing with swollen throat. There was keen pain in the thought of +abandoning this bright room, of discarding all his trophies, books, and +pictures, but this he did, putting nothing into his trunk but his +clothing and a few photographs of his dearest girl friends. "What's the +use?" he said to Frenson. "It's me to the spade or the ice-tongs, now. I +won't need these things any more. It's battle in the arena of trade for +Vic from this time on." + +Frenson looked around at the little library. "Well, I'll hold them +together for a while. Maybe you'll be able to come back and graduate, +after all." + +"Never! Don't you see I can't take another cent of my mother's money now +that I know how it's earned?" + +Frenson listened unexcitedly. "Well, now, suppose these voices should +turn out to be real? Suppose these messages have been from the dead?" + +"It wouldn't make any difference." + +"Oh yes, it would. At least it would to me. Scientific men have been +against a whole lot of things in the past that turned out to be true. +Natural selection, for instance, and X-rays and the wireless telephone." + +"I see your drift, Gil. You want to be a comfort to me, but I've been +digging down into my memory, and I know now that my mother has been +trained into these habits, these delusions, for over twenty years. It +won't be an easy thing to get her out of them. She is as much deceived +as the rest. I am sure of that." + +"Well, why don't you experiment with her? Make a test," suggested +Frenson. + +"Would you experiment with your own mother?" asked Victor. + +"I'd make a case out of my grandmother if as much hinged on her as +swings on this question of your mother's honesty. You can't blink these +charges, Vic, they'll have to be met if she remains in the city." + +Victor sat in silence for a few moments, then broke out again. "Gil, I +begin to understand a hundred things that have always seemed queer to +me. She has kept me away from her because she _knew_ I would not +sanction her way of earning money. Why, I haven't slept in her house but +once since I was ten years old, and that was just before I entered here. +I hated where she lived; it was a ratty little hole down on the south +side, and the people with her were sloppy Sals. I refused to stay a +second night. I can see it all now. She was living there in that way to +save money for me, to keep me here. She wanted me to have just as good +a chance as any of the rest of you. This room, the clothes I have on, my +trinkets, everything came from her, and now there's no telling what may +happen to her. That article threatens all kinds of persecution. I ought +to be there this minute. I must take the very next train." + +"I guess you're right there, old man. It's likely to be a pretty +exciting day for her. This article is apt to bring all kinds of trouble +to her as well as to you." + +The news that Victor Ollnee was the son of a notorious medium ran +rapidly among his classmates, and while they honored him and prized his +skill on the team, they felt a certain resentment toward him. Some of +them thought he had not been quite honest with them, and a violent +controversy was thundering in the dining-room as Frenson re-entered it +at one o'clock. He took Victor's part, of course. "He can't help what +his mother's done," he argued. "He didn't choose his mother. Why slam +into Vic?" + +"We aren't slamming into him. We're sorry for him," responded one of the +fellows. + +"But we don't see how we can afford to have him in the frat," said +another. "He's a ripping good fellow and a wonder at the bat, but what +can we do? He should have told us about himself. The paper here says +that his mother makes a living by cheating people, by tapping spirit +wires and blowing horns and hearing voices in the dark: and all that +shady business is sure to reflect on us. He's a marked man which ever +way you look at it. You'll see everybody rubber-necking over our fence +to-day. They've begun it already." + +"That's so," agreed a third man. "Why didn't he tell us the truth before +we voted him in here?" + +Frenson explained. "He's been telling me all about it. He says he didn't +know his mother was earning her money that way." + +"That's the part that looks queer to us," accused the opposition. "How +could he help knowing it? Looks to us as if he'd been covering it up all +along. This writer says the woman is a regular 'battle-ax.'" + +The current was setting strongly against Victor, and Frenson, seeing +this, rose to go. "Well, there's no need of taking action. Poor Vic is +heart-broken over the whole business and is leaving on the three-o'clock +train." + +This silenced even his critics. They began to remember what a jolly good +fellow he was, and how important his work in "the diamond" had been. It +was all very sad business, and they relented. "We don't want to be hard +on him," they said. + +Frenson went up to Victor. "See here, Captain, you must be hungry. I'll +push a tray for you if you don't feel like going down among those +'Indians.' I'll have to be honest with you. They're all up in the air +down there and howling something fierce. I reckon I'd better hustle a +turkey-leg for you." + +"I wish you would, Gil. I can't bear to see any one but you. If I can, I +want to sneak out and get to the train without catching anybody's eye. +All I need now is to kill that reporter. He has smashed my world, sure +thing, and I may find my poor little mother crushed under it, too." He +tore the paper into little bits, snarling through his set teeth. "The +fellows may believe what they please. I've done with them all. They're +all against me but you, I can see that." + +Frenson got out his pipe and filled it while his partner raged up and +down the room. At last he said: "Now, Vickie, when you get calmed down +you just remember that you've a lot of mighty good friends up here. +There'll be dozens of them that this thing won't change a little bit. +They'll talk, but they'll be sympathetic." + +Victor's wrath burned itself out at last, and he consented to Frenson's +bringing the tray of food. But he declined to go down-stairs till the +time came to start for the train. + +As they were crossing the hall they met little Macey, who, with a +startled look in his eyes, intercepted Victor's passage. "I'm awfully +sorry, Vic," he began. "I wish I could do something for you." + +There was something so sincere and moving in his tone that Victor's +stern mood melted. His voice grew husky as he tried to jocularly reply. +"Never mind, Sissy, I'm down, but I'm not out. Good-by till next time." + +"That's the spirit," cheered Frenson from the doorway. + +Out on the walk a couple of the older fraternity men stood talking in +low voices (of Victor, of course), and as they fell apart one of them +had the grace to say: "Don't stay away too long, Vic. We'll need you +Saturday." + +Victor waved a hand. "I hope you'll be here when I return," he retorted; +but as he entered the hack (which Frenson had provided, as though he +were taking an invalid or a lady to the train) his composure utterly +gave way. "I could have stood it if the boys hadn't welched," he sobbed. +"But they did; you can't fool me. They threw me down hard." + +"Some of them did," admitted Frenson. "But they were the hollow ones. +The solid chaps are all right yet." + +"I can't blame them very much. If they believe all that stuff about my +mother and think that I knew it, why of course they're right in feeling +as they do." + +At the train the loyal Frenson said, "Well now, Vic, if you need help +any time you let me know and I'll come galloping." + +"That's real bold in you, Gil, and if I get where I can't see my way out +I'll shout." + +And so they parted--Victor with a feeling that their companionship was +ended forever, Gilbert with a sense of having failed of his intent to +comfort and sustain. + + + + +II + +VICTOR INTERROGATES HIS MOTHER + + +Once on the train, with the towers of the university building out of +sight, Victor's mind went forward toward the great city whereto he was +now hurrying in the spirit of one about to enter a tiger-haunted jungle. +Hitherto he had been unafraid of its tumult, for there his mother lived. +Her home, vague of outline as it was, offered refuge from the thunder +and the shouting. But now its shelter was worse than useless, for its +lintel was marked with a sign of shame and terror, and this the law and +the lawless knew equally well. + +"How will she seem to me now," he asked himself. "What will she say to +me when we meet?" + +On one point he was sternly resolved. "She must leave the city at once. +We will go West somewhere. I will earn our living now." And at the +moment earning a living seemed easy. + +The close of a beautiful spring day was spreading over the town as he +made his way up the stairway into the unwonted silence of the +thoroughfare. The wind was from the east, clean and cool and sweet. As +he looked down at the river from the bridge and marked its water flowing +swiftly from the lake toward the splendid sunset sky he exulted over the +power of man, of science, to reverse the natural current of a stream. +"So must I change the whole course of my mother's life," he thought with +returning resolution. "It must be done. It can be done. It's all in the +will." + +The hit-or-miss squalor of California Avenue filled him with renewed and +augmented disgust as he descended from the car at the corner and began +his search for his mother's apartment, which was the top story of a +shabby wooden building standing between two shops. The stairway reeked +with associations of poverty, a shifty poverty, and Victor's gorge rose +at it. The second flight, though cleaner, was musty with decaying wood, +and the doorway--on which a dim card was tacked--sadly needed paint. He +began to realize sharply the sacrifices which had enabled him to live in +the care-free comfort of his chapter-house, and his heart softened. + +After knocking twice without obtaining a response he tried the knob. It +yielded and he went in. All was silent and dim. For an instant he +hesitated. "Perhaps I'm in the wrong pew after all," he thought; but as +he looked about him he recognized the ghost-room furniture of his +boyhood. On the wall was a familiar picture--the crayon portrait of a +black-whiskered man. The same old battered walnut table which he +remembered so well occupied one corner, and behind it three long tin +cones stood upright on their larger ends. He shivered with disgust at +them and turned to the lounge, over which, scattered as if by a gale of +wind, lay the leaves of the hated Sunday edition of the _Star_. All else +was neat and tidy, though threadbare with use. It was, indeed, very far +from being "the gilded den of vice" which the reporter had depicted. + +Oppressed by the silence, Victor called out, "Mother, are you here?" + +He thought he heard a voice, a husky whisper, say, "_Go to her_"; and, a +little surprised by this, he stepped to the door of the bedroom and +peered in. There, sitting in an arm-chair, half hid in the gloaming, sat +his mother with closed eyes and a gray-white face. + +"Mother, are you sick?" he cried out, starting toward her. + +Again the whisper in the air close to his ear commanded him: "_Stay +where you are. Do not touch her._" + +"Mother, don't you know me? It is Victor." + +The whisper answered: "_Your mother is resting. We are treating her. Be +patient; she will awaken soon._" + +For a moment Victor's heart failed him, so impressive was this whisper, +issuing apparently from the empty air. Then a flood of rage swept over +him. This Voice was one of the tricks charged against her by the paper. +"Mother, stop that! I won't have it. Do you hear me? Stop it, I say!" + +The sleeper stirred and her eyes opened, but no sign of recognition was +in them. Slowly her stiffened hands withdrew from the arms of her chair +and clasped themselves in her lap. Her cheeks, puffed and pallid, were +rigid and her eyes, turned upward and inward, gleamed coldly. The lids +were half-closed. She had a horribly unfamiliar, tortured look, and he +started toward her, calling upon her in a voice of anxiety. "Mother, +what is the matter? Don't you hear me?" + +At last she opened her eyes and a thrill of relief ran through him as he +caught a gleam of recognition there. She lifted her hands feebly, +whispering, "My boy, my precious boy!" + +Kneeling by her side, he waited for her consciousness to come back. Her +hands, so cold and nerveless, grew warmer, her lips smiled wearily, yet +with divine maternal tenderness, and at last she spoke. "My big, +splendid boy! I knew you would not desert me. I knew it; I knew it. I +prayed for you." + +"I came by the very first train," he answered, "and I am here to defend +you." + +A loud knocking at the door startled her and she clasped his hand +tightly as she whispered: "That is another of my enemies. All day they +have been coming. Send them away." + +He put her hands down and rose tensely. "I'll smash their faces," he +hotly declared. + +"Don't be rash, Victor, please." + +He strode to the door and opened it. A dark, handsome young woman and a +grinning youth stood without. They were both a little dashed by Victor's +appearance as he queried, with scowling brow, "What do you want?" + +The man replied, "We came to have a sitting." + +Victor exploded. "Get out," he shouted. "If you come back here again +I'll throw you down the stairs." Thereupon he slammed the door in their +faces and returned to his mother. + +"We've got to get away from here," he said as he came to her. "We can't +stay here another day." + +"That must be as my guide, your grandfather, says," she replied. + +"There's no use talking like that to me, mother. You've got to stop this +business. I won't have any more of it. It's shameful, and I won't have +it." + +She answered, gently: "I'm under orders, Victor. I can do nothing in +opposition to The Voices." + +He bent over her with knitted brow. "See here, mother, I want you to +understand that this medium business has got to be cut out. Look what it +has let you in for! I don't believe in your Voices, and you must--" + +She stopped him. "My son, if you do not believe in The Voices you +cannot believe in me. They are real. If they were not, I should go mad. +They are in my ears all day long. My comfort is that they are not +imaginary. Others hear them, and that proves to me that they are not an +illusion. If you listen they will speak to you." + +"I don't want them to speak to me. I want you to pack up--" + +"Hark!" she commanded. "They are speaking now." + +As he listened, the same measured whisper which he had heard upon +entering the house made itself distinctly heard, apparently in the air, +a little higher than his mother's head. "_Boy, trust in us!_" + +Victor glanced at his mother's lips. He could not help it; base as it +seemed, he suspected her of ventriloquism. "Who are you?" he asked. + +"_Your grandsire, Nelson Blodgett._" + +This reply, apparently without his mother's agency, was uttered in so +plain a tone that Victor's hair rose. He opened and peered into a little +closet which stood behind his mother's chair. It was empty, and as he +came slowly back and stood looking down into her face a low, breathy +chuckle sounded in his ear. + +"_A smart lad. Needs discipline._" + +A flush of rage passed over him, leaving him cold. He studied his mother +in silence, convinced that she was cunningly playing upon his fears. As +he pondered she said, quietly: "I'm glad you came, Victor. You fill my +heart with joy; but you must not stay. I do not need you. You must go +back to your studies." + +"That I cannot do." + +"Oh, Victor, you must! I want you to graduate. Father insists on it." + +"I tell you it is impossible. Do you suppose I'm going back there where +all the fellows are laughing at me? Why, they're talking of throwing me +out of the club! More than that, I can't take another cent of your +money. If I had known how you were earning your living I would never +have entered the university at all." + +"Oh, my boy, do you doubt me? Do you believe what they say against me?" + +This brought him face to face with the whole problem. "Of course I don't +believe that you cheat--purposely--but I do think you are abnormal. You +can't expect me to believe that a voice can come out of the air like +that. It's impossible! It's against all reason, and yet--" + +At this moment another knock, a gentler signal, sounded at the door, and +the youth, relieved by the interruption, flared out at the unknown +intruder. "Go away," he shouted. + +"No, no; these are friends," his mother asserted, and rose to let them +in. + +Victor caught her by the arm. "What are you going to do?" + +"Open the door. It is one of my dearest friends." + +"You must not give a sitting. I won't have it." + +The knock was repeated and she hurried away, leaving the boy confused, +angry, and helpless. + +She returned, accompanied by two women. The first of them was a +diminutive, gray-haired lady, with a frank and smiling face, whose dress +proclaimed a prosperous and happy station in life. Her companion was a +tall young girl, whose spring suit, quiet in color and exquisitely +tailored, became her notably. The youth thought, "What a stylish girl!" +And the sight of her calmed him instantly. + +"Victor," said his mother, and her tone was one of relief, "these are my +dearest friends, Mrs. Joyce and Leonora Wood, her niece." + +Victor bowed without speaking, for the heart of battle was still in him. + +Mrs. Joyce cried out: "What a fine, big fellow! I didn't expect such a +stalwart son." + +"Please be seated," said Mrs. Ollnee. "My son has just arrived. He saw +that dreadful article in the paper and came to defend me." + +"That was fine of you," exclaimed Mrs. Joyce to Victor. "That same +article brought us. I would have been here before only we don't take the +_Star_, and I did not see the article until about an hour ago." + +Mrs. Ollnee took up her explanation. "But, Louise, Victor says he will +not go back to college." + +Mrs. Joyce was quick to apprehend the situation. "I suppose that +outrageous article made it appear necessary for you to defend both your +mother and yourself," she said, searchingly. + +Victor was not disposed to gloze matters in the least. "It made a fool +of me," he responded, bitterly. "It made it impossible for me to look my +friends in the face. How could I convince them that I was not sharing in +the profits of my mother's business? I told them I didn't know where my +allowance came from, but of course no one believed me. I know now, and I +despise the whole business. I've come down here to take my mother out of +it." + +The three women looked at one another sympathetically. Mrs. Joyce, who +knew Mrs. Ollnee's history intimately, only smiled as she answered: "I +don't see that you need to feel ashamed of your mother's profession. A +medium is one of the most precious instruments in this world. She brings +solace to many a sorrowing heart. Why is her work less honorable than +singing, for example? Furthermore, no one is obliged to come to her. We +sit of our own choice, and if we are not pleased we can refuse to pay, +and we need not return. So you see it is a free contract, after all." + +Her reasoning staggered Victor. He was confused also by her frank and +charming manner. He perceived that his problem was not so simple as he +had imagined. Hitherto, his life had been single-hearted, with nothing +more difficult to decide than a question of moral philosophy; but here, +now, he stood confronted by an entirely baffling entanglement of human +wills. This woman, so evidently of the higher world of wealth and +culture, accepted his mother's claims, and this profoundly impressed +him. + +Mrs. Joyce continued. "Don't take this newspaper attack too seriously, +Mr. Ollnee. It was meant to be nasty, and it _is_ nasty; but it is not +fatal. It is a cloud that will soon blow over and leave you and your +mother unharmed." + +"It will never blow over for me," he replied, passionately, "and you +must not include me in this thing. I've lived a long way from it thus +far, and I don't intend to mix up with this kind of hokus-pokus." + +"Victor," called his mother, warningly. + +He corrected himself. "Of course I don't accuse you of wilfully +deceiving anybody. I'm willing to grant that you _think_ these Voices +are real; but my teacher, Doctor Boyden, says that mediumship is only a +kind of hysteria--" + +Mrs. Joyce laughed. "Yes, I've read Doctor Boyden's books. What does he +know about it? Did he ever study a wonderful psychic like your mother? +Has he candidly examined these phenomena? Never in his life! I know all +about that kind of investigator. He is basing his conclusions on +somebody's else's conjectures or prejudices." + +Victor defended his master. "He has tried to experiment. He's offered +prizes for mediums to meet him, but they have refused. Not one would sit +with him." + +"Why should they? Would you have your mother seek him out to convince +him? Why doesn't he come to her. There he sits in his chair, pretending +to say that these phenomena are impossible, whereas I know, from many +personal tests, that these voices are not merely real, but that they +come from my dear ones on the other side and that they sustain and +comfort me." + +Victor was silenced, and his discomfiture was made the more complete by +the smiling gaze of the young girl, who was evidently enjoying his +perplexity. Nevertheless, though he did not continue the argument, he +held to his opinion that they were all victims of his mother's +unconscious necromancy. + +Mrs. Joyce continued. "You say you know nothing about it. Why not find +out something about it? Here is your mother. Study her." + +"Why don't we have a sitting now?" exclaimed Miss Wood. "It would be fun +to see his face when the horns began to dance about." + +Mrs. Ollnee looked a little worried. "Not now, Leo, I'm too upset. It's +been a terrible day for me. I haven't eaten a thing." + +Mrs. Joyce rose. "You poor dear! Let's go get something. Come this +instant. You'll go, Mr. Ollnee." + +His first impulse was to refuse, but as he studied his mother's pale +face and thought of the good effect of the outside air he relented. +"Yes, I'll go," he replied, ungraciously. + +Miss Wood came over to him and tried to soften his mood. "I know how you +feel about all this, and I know how brutal a scientific sharp can be. My +professors were all against it. Just the same, it's a wonderful old +world; a good deal more wonderful than some of our teachers admit." + +He did not reply to this, but stood watching his mother as she put on +her hat and wrap. Her whole expression had changed. Her face had lighted +up and her delicacy of feature and small, graceful hands denoted to him +as never before the woman of natural refinement and intelligence. It was +hard to consider her at the moment the victim of a brain disorder, and +yet-- + +Mrs. Joyce led the way down the creaking stairs, and Victor, following +in sullen silence, was surprised and a little daunted to find a +luxurious automobile waiting for them. He rebelled at the curb. "You go +on without me," he said, harshly. "I'll stay here till you come back." + +"Oh no," exclaimed Mrs. Joyce. "Please come with us. Your mother will +not be happy without you." + +Miss Wood remarked, humorously, "Never refuse a dinner or a ride in a +motor-car; that's my motto." + +His mother timidly lifted her face. "Victor, Mrs. Joyce is my most loyal +friend. I owe her more than you know. I _wish_ you would come." + +He yielded with a sense of stepping down, but as he found himself seated +beside Miss Wood and whirring swiftly up the street his inflexible +attitude softened. "For this one night I will follow; after that I +lead," he promised himself. + +The girl mocked him with subtle intonation. "I am glad of any mystery +and romance which remains in this old world, and I never quarrel with +fate. If any one is disposed to exchange an autocar ride for so +intangible a thing as a voice, I trade." + +A little later she reverted to his problem. "What right have you to pass +judgment on your mother without examining her? I was just as skeptical +as you are when I met her first, but she _forced_ me to believe. I am +perfectly certain that she would upset Doctor Boyden. If he would come +down quietly and sit with her she'd convince even him. She is a very +dear little woman, and we all love her." + +Mrs. Joyce leaned over and spoke in his ear. "It is only through devoted +beings like your mother that the bereaved are assured of life +everlasting. She doesn't _tell_ me that my son is living beyond the +veil; _she brings him to me_. I hear his voice and touch his hand." + +To this sort of thing he was forced to listen during their course down +the shining avenue, and it made the whole city as unreal as a dream. +When they rolled up to the wide portals of a towering hotel a new +anxiety presented itself. "Suppose mother should be recognized as we +enter? Suppose they arrest her here." + +A realization of his own poverty and youth and general helplessness came +over him with crushing effect as he trod the hall, which seemed very +vast and splendid in his eyes. He was subdued, too, by the thought that +he had not silver enough in his pocket to fee the girl who took their +wraps. His resolution to fight, to earn not only his own living but to +rescue his mother, became fainter each moment. "Can it be that yesterday +I was behind the bat?" he asked himself. "Surely I must be dreaming." + +He perceived another side to his mother's character. She seemed quite at +ease amid all this splendor, and accepted whatever Mrs. Joyce did for +her as something quite definitely her due. + +There was no indication of the Sabbath in the gorgeous dining-room, and +nothing to show that sorrow or poverty existed in the world; and seeing +his mother's face flushed with pleasure, the perplexed youth relented a +little further. "This one night she may have, but it must be the last of +such entertainment on such terms." + +There was in him beneath all this antagonism a kind of dignity and manly +strength which pleased Mrs. Joyce. She was glad to see him lighten up, +and she exerted herself to that end. "There now," she said, looking +about the room. "Let's forget all of our troubles. Let us suppose that +all our friends 'on the other side' are at dinner also." + +Victor sat in silence what time his mother decided whether she would +have asparagus soup or consomme. It was his first experience with that +degree of wealth which takes no thought of price, and glancing at the +figures on the bill of fare his hair rose. Never in his life had he +eaten a meal which cost as much as this one order of soup, and the fact +that his mother gaily ordered the best indicated to him how deeply +indebted she already was to her patroness. "There must be some very +definite need which she supplies," he conceded, "or Mrs. Joyce would not +so gladly pay her bills." + +At the same time his respect and admiration for his mother returned. As +the dinner went on her cheeks glowed with faint color. Her years of +trouble seemed to slip away from her. She took on youthful grace and +charm, glancing often at her handsome son with eyes of maternal pride +and content. "It is so good to have you here," she silently expressed. +He had never seen this care-free side of her, and the gayer she grew the +more alien, in a sense, she became. She was instinctively the lady, of +that he was assured, and though she could not follow Miss Wood in all of +her flights of fancy and allusion, she plainly showed unusual powers of +appreciation. + +The talk also brought out the extraordinary intimacy of the three women. +It appeared that Mrs. Joyce and Mrs. Ollnee were inseparable, that she +often took his mother to the opera and to the theater, and as they +discussed various singers and actors, whose names alone he knew, his +sense of being suburban deepened. "Why does this vivid and cultured +woman seek my mother's society? For what reason does she lavish money +upon her? Is it because of her personal charm? No," he decided, "that +cannot be the reason." Beneath her cordial tone he thought he detected +the reserve of one who is being kind to a dependent. "She's being nice +to mother," he concluded, "because she thinks she's getting something +special from her. Mother is a freak, not a friend. She considers her a +kind of spiritual telephone." + +Although Miss Wood devoted herself to the task of amusing him, and his +face lost some of its gravest lines, yet he could not be denoted a +careless youth, even when the wine came on. He was thinking too deeply +to be outwardly ready of retort. It was too sudden a change from the +pastoral air and quiet streets of Winona to be instantly assimilated. He +remained sullen. + +His mother eyed him apprehensively but admiringly. "He looks like his +father," she whispered to Mrs. Joyce. + +He would have been inhuman had he not responded to certain charms in +Miss Wood. She had a fine profile, he admitted, finer than that of any +girl he knew. Her eyes, too, were a little disturbing by reason of the +small wrinkles of laughter at the corners, but she irritated him. She +was perfectly sure of herself. Nothing that he did or failed to do +affected her in any other way apparently than to deepen her amusement. +Her manner seemed to say, "Wait a few days and see what a fool you'll +find yourself out to be. You're nothing but a great big country lad, +trying to be a philosopher, trying to live up to a rigid code of morals. +It's all a pose, a ludicrous attitude of boyish defiance." + +She said nothing of this of course; on the contrary, she talked of +things in which he was interested, trying politely to meet him half way. +She was actually a year or two younger than he, but she gave off the air +of being five years older. She had explored immense tracts of human +life, or at least of social life, of which he had no knowledge, and this +came out in her casual references to New York and Paris. Her home was in +Los Angeles, but she was now staying with her aunt. + +He lost his sullen reserve. The soup, the wine, the bird, and the maid +softened his stern mood. By the time the coffee came on he was talking +almost boyishly with his hostess and his face had lost its troubled +lines. + +His perplexities came back as Mrs. Joyce passed two bills to the waiter +in payment for their dinner, and he watched from the corner of his eye +to see how much change came back. Two dollars! Eighteen dollars for four +dinners! "Great Scot!" he inwardly groaned. "It would take me a week to +earn our share of this meal!" And a returning sense of his mother's +subconscious iniquity reclad him with gloom. + +The ride back to California Avenue was less festive, for Mrs. Joyce took +occasion to say: "My advice is this. Return to college and obtain your +degree. I will take care of your dear little mother." + +"I can't do that," he said. "I've quit. There is no use talking about +that." + +"You shouldn't take this newspaper attack too seriously," remarked Miss +Wood. "Reporters are always exposing mediums. It is quite habitual with +them, and besides, your mother has been through it before." + +"Is that true?" he asked, with sharpened assault. + +"Yes," Mrs. Ollnee admitted. "I've been attacked in this way twice." + +"Since I have been grown up?" + +"Yes; once since you went to Winona." + +"I didn't know that. Why didn't you tell me?" + +Mrs. Joyce interposed. "What was the use? You could have done nothing. +We who understand these matters make allowances for the reporter's +trade. He must earn a living some way." + +As she said this Victor recalled the cynical close of the article. +"Probably the true-blue believer will condemn the detective and not the +culprit," the lines ran. "There are dupes so purblind, so infatuated +that nothing, not even the boldest chicanery can shake their faith; +nevertheless, a few will take this article for what it is, a full and +clear expose of a shrewd and conscienceless trickster." And yet, as he +faced these intelligent women, Victor could not think of them as being +deceived by open chicanery, much less could he admit for a moment that +his mother was capable of resorting to it. + +It was a dramatic and moving experience for him to go from this +cushioned, splendid chariot back to the shabby little apartment which +was the only home in the wide world for either his mother or himself. He +was filled with a kind of rage at her, at fate, and at himself, and no +sooner were they inside the door than he turned upon her with a note of +resentful resolution in his voice. + +"Mother, how could you let me in for all of this? Why did you send me to +college, knowing that sooner or later exposure must come?" + +"I trusted the voices," she replied, "just as I must continue to trust +them in the future." + +"Now, mother," he rejoined with a certain foreboding grimness of +inflection, "we've got to get right down to brass tacks on that +business. I can't go on any longer in ignorance of who I am and what you +are. I want to know all about you and all about my father. Who was my +father? What was he? Did he believe in this thing?" + +Her eyes fell. "No, not while he was on this life's plane. Indeed, it +was my 'work' that--that separated us. He hated it and was very harsh +about it. But the first thing he did after he passed on was to come back +and tell me that I was right after all. He asked me to forgive him." + +"Is that his picture up there on the wall? What did he do for a living?" + +"He was a really fine mind, Victor; one of those men who might have been +eminent had they gone out into the world. He was a student and a +thinker, but he was not ambitious. He was content to be the principal of +a village school and live quietly; and we were very happy till The +Voices began." + +"Did he know you had The Voices when he married you?" + +"Yes, I told him all about them, but he only laughed at me. I suppose he +thought it was just a fancy on my part. Anyhow, he did not take them +seriously, and during our courtship they gave me freedom. My guide said +I need not sit for a while and father guarded me from all the evil ones +on that side who are so ready to rush in and take possession of a +medium. For two years I had no touch of 'the power,' and I really +thought it had all gone away from me. Then you came and I was very ill, +and father, my control, returned to tell me that you would be a great +man. 'Hereafter,' he said, 'I will direct you in the education of your +son.' Why, Victor, he named you. He said you should be called Victor +because you would overcome all opposition." + +"Well, just how did your separation come about?" + +"When my control began to demand things from me your father accused me +of playing tricks and sternly forbade any more of it. I tried not to go +into trance. I fought 'the power' and this angered father. He came upon +me so strong that I could do nothing with him. I heard The Voices all +the time and your father thought me crazy. I had what seemed like +epileptic fits. I seemed to lose my identity--but I didn't; I knew all +that was going on. It seemed as if I went out of my body while others +entered it and used it to torment and perplex your father. Then he +became convinced that I was abnormal in some way and experimented with +me--all in a very skeptical spirit--and gradually he lost his regard for +me. I became only 'a case of hysteria' to him. I could see him change +from day to day. He grew colder and more critical and more aloof all the +time. This made me so ill that I was unable to keep my feet--I grew old +rapidly, and another younger and prettier woman, one of his teachers, +gained the love I had lost and at last he went away with her." + +There was a little silence before Victor was able to ask, "Where did he +go?" + +"He went to Denver, and I never saw him again. He died not long after." + +"Then did you take to making a living out of the ghost-room?" + +"After your father left I asked my guides why they permitted him to +leave me, and they said it was considered necessary to keep me in 'the +work.' 'You were too happy,' they said. 'You are too valuable an +instrument to live out your life simply as wife and mother. You are now +to be devoted to higher aims.' Since then whenever I have tried to get +out of 'the work' they have brought me back. Oh, you don't know what a +clutch they have on me. They know my income to a dollar. They let me +have just enough to live on and to educate you, but they won't let my +rich friends provide me with an income. I must do their will exactly or +they punish me." + +As she enlarged upon this phase of her life Victor was appalled by it. +Her madness--and madness it seemed to him--was now a settled and +specific part of her life. "How do they punish you?" he asked, after a +pause. + +"They do not hesitate to throw me into convulsions, or make me do things +that rob me of my friends. They bring disaster upon me whenever I try to +walk my own road. Every investment I make on my own judgment they +defeat. Did you ever plague an ant or a bug by putting something in its +way, checking its advance, no matter in which direction it went?" + +He nodded. "Yes, I've done that as a boy." + +"Well, that is exactly how they treat me. I've given up trying to do +anything in opposition to their wishes. I do the work that is laid out +for me." She sighed. "Yes, I've ceased to rebel. I am resigned. But, +Victor, you must not fail me. I shall be perfectly happy if only you +will be content to go with me and to grant at least that the work I am +doing is worth while. You're all I have now, and when I see you frowning +at me, so like your father, I am scared. That black look is on your face +this moment." + +"You need not be afraid of me, mother," he replied, wearily; "but you +must not ask me to believe in your voices and all the rest of it. It's +too unnatural and too foolish. But you're my good little mother all the +same, and I'm not going to desert you. I'm going to stay right here and +help you fight it out." + +She took his words to mean something sweet and filial and went to his +arms with happiness. + +As she lifted her head from his shoulder he looked round the room and +said, "But, mother, this ghost-room has got to go." + +"Oh, Victor, don't say that. I am ready to promise not to take money for +my work, but I can't promise anything further; and as for my ghost-room, +as you call it, it has so many associations with Paul and your +grandfather that I cannot think of giving it up. I dare not give it up." + +"You must quit it," he repeated. "If you give another seance--for +money--I will leave you and I will never come back." And on his face was +the stubborn look of his father. + + + + +III + +VICTOR MAKES A TEST + + +That night was a long and restless one for the mother, but the son, with +the healthy boy's power of forgetfulness, slept dreamlessly, waking only +when the morning light struck beneath his eyelids. For a moment the +thunder of the elevated trains in the alley puzzled him, and he rose +dazedly on his elbow expecting to catch Frenson at some practical joke, +but as his eyes took in the faded carpet, the cheap curtains, the +decrepit furniture, his brain cleared and his beleaguering worries came +back upon him like a swarm of vultures. + +He recalled the terror of his mother's trance, the coming of her lovely +friends, the ride, the luxurious dinner, and, last of all, the +significant words with which they had parted. + +In the light of the day his situation did not seem so complicated. "We +must leave this city and go out West somewhere--get shut of the whole +bunch. Father was right--this trance business is intolerable." + +His natural vigor and decision returned to him. He rose with a bound, +calling to his mother with a realization of the fact that she had no +cook. "Who gets breakfast, you or I?" + +She replied, with a little flutter of dismay in her voice, "I don't +believe there is a crumb of bread in the house." + +"Never mind," he replied; "I'll go to the corner and negotiate a roll." + +The neighborhood did not improve with daylight acquaintance, and on his +way back from the shop with a jug of cream and a paper bag in his hands +he dwelt again upon his motor-car ride to the Palace Hotel and reviewed +the eighteen-dollar meal they had eaten. He possessed sufficient sense +of humor to grin as he clutched his parcels. "If Miss Wood were to see +me now she'd experience a jolt." + +His smile did not last long. "Mrs. Joyce knows all about us," he +admitted. "That's why she blew us to that feast. She was trying to +compensate mother for her empty cupboard, which was very nice of her." +Then his thought went deeper. He began to understand that it was to +provide him with a larger allowance that his mother had been living +alone and doing her own work. "Dear little mutter!" he said, and his +heart softened toward her. "She's been walking the tight-rope, all +right." + +She was up and at work in the tiny kitchen as he came in. "I forgot to +get my supplies Saturday--and yesterday I was so upset--" + +"Never mind," he replied, gaily. "The 'royal gorge' we had last night +makes breakfast supererogatory. I've attached some rolls and a bottle of +cream, and if you've any coffee and sugar we're fixed." + +"I have sugar but no coffee. I drink--" + +"Not on your life!" he cut in. "No burnt wheat for me!" And he tore down +the stairs like mad. + +At the shop he found himself possessed of just seventeen cents, with +which he bought a half-pound of coffee. + +"Now I can begin my conquest of the world as all the great men have +done--penniless. It's me for a stroll down-town, I reckon." + +The table was neatly set when he returned, and his mother, proud of her +big and glowing boy, cheerily confronted him. "No matter how poor we +are," she said, "we can be happy." And with her faith renewed she +prepared the coffee for the cream. + +The sun struck into the bare little dining-room with golden charm, but +these two souls, so alike yet so unlike, faced each other with returning +constraint. As they talked their antagonism of purpose again developed. + +Victor outlined his plan of going West and starting anew. To this +suggestion his mother listened, then gently replied: "There are many +objections to that, Victor. First of all, I have no money." + +"Can't we sell something?" She shook her head, and he, after looking +around, ruefully admitted that there was nothing to sell. "But your +house--" This gave him a thought. "Why don't we go back to La Crescent? +I'll work on a farm, in a grocery--anything rather than have you keep on +with this business. It's dangerous, and it isn't nice." + +"Victor," she began, with more of self-assertion than she had hitherto +voiced, "you don't understand. My mediumship is not a business, it is a +sacred obligation. God has gifted me with the power of communicating +with those who have passed to a higher plane, and I must respect that +gift. I am in the hands of those wiser than either of us. To oppose them +would be self-destruction." + +He listened with growing coldness and hardness. "That's all a delusion," +he repeated. "Modern science has proved that mediumship is just plain +hysteria." + +"We won't argue," she replied, and her tone was that of one hurt. "I +_know_, for I have had the personal experience. I am only a leaf in the +wind when this power sweeps over me. So long as I live I must remain the +instrument of these our supernal friends--it is my work in the world, +and I must execute it." + +"What do you expect me to do?" he asked, almost brutally. + +"I'd like you to go back to your studies--" + +"That I will not do," he assured her in tones that expressed a final +decision. + +"Well then--will you remain here with me?" + +"Not with you carrying on the business which I hate." + +"Why should you hate it? To Leo and Mrs. Joyce my mission is noble." + +"I hate it because I think it's foolish, unnatural, and false. I don't +mean that you _consciously_ cheat, mother, but I am certain that in some +way it all comes down to that." + +She opened her arms in a gesture of passionate appeal. "My son, these +Voices have educated you--they have helped me to feed and clothe you. +Now here I am, prove me, try me, convict me if you can. I yield myself +to your tests. I _know_ the spirit life is a reality. If I did not I +should perish with despair. Every day, almost all hours of the day, +these Voices whisper in my ears. The hands of those you call the dead +caress my cheek. They cheer and admonish me. They are as real to me as +you are. If you can silence them, do so. I put myself into your hands. +Do what you will in proof of my powers." + +The boy was rapidly changing to the man. His mother's words beating upon +his brain aroused something in him which he had not hitherto +acknowledged. He thought deeply as he peered into her eyes, burning with +resolution. + +"She is honest--but she is the victim of a fixed idea." He had heard +much of "the fixed idea." "I will try her, I will rid her of her +obsession." Aloud he said: "The important thing is our living. How am I +to pay my way? I haven't a cent. I paid out my last penny for this +coffee." + +"I have a little money." + +"I told you I wouldn't take another dollar of your money, and I won't," +he replied, sharply. "That's settled. I must get clear and keep clear of +all this 'bunk.'" + +"But suppose you find my powers real?" she asked, trembling with +eagerness. + +He hesitated. "Then--well--if I believed in your powers I would still +object to your earning money with--by means of your--your Voices. I've +got to make my own way in the world, and from this moment!" + +She read an unmitigable opposition in his eyes and sadly said, "You'll +come here to sleep, won't you?" + +He conceded so much, though reluctantly. "Yes, I'll sleep here, but as +soon as I make a raise of any work I intend to pay for my board. As for +carfare, I guess my junk will have to go into 'hock.'" He rose. "You +see, I won a silver mug and a watch by being useful to the team. It's +them to 'Uncle Jake's,'" he ended, with a return to the college youth's +vocabulary, and going to his valise took out his reward for muscular +merit and showed it to her. "Isn't that smooth?" + +Her eyes shone with pride. "How much do you suppose you can borrow on +it?" she asked. + +"Oh, I don't know. Five dollars, maybe." + +"Well, I'll lend you ten dollars on it." + +He looked at her with musing eyes. "Say twenty, and you may have both +mug and watch." + +She went to her purse and handed to him the money. + +He took it without hesitation. "Well, here's where I hit the pavement +for a job." + +She confronted him in a final appeal. "Oh, Victor, I can't bear to have +you doubt me even for an hour. Stay with me to-day. Stay and let me talk +with you. I've had so little of you. Just think! for more than twelve +years I've kept you away from me--I've starved myself--my +mother-self--in order that you might grow to manhood untroubled by my +faith, and I can't bear to have you doubt me now." + +He understood something of her emotion and responded to it. "You dear, +faithful little mother, I realize now what I have cost you, and I'm +grateful; but that's the very reason why I can't let you do any more of +it. I must begin to pay you back." + +"All you need to do to pay me is to let me look at you," she fondly +replied. "I'm proud of you, Victor. I was proud of you last night. I saw +Leo admiring you, and Mrs. Joyce thinks you are splendid." + +He was interested. "By the way, who is Miss Wood?" + +"She's a niece of Mrs. Joyce. Mrs. Joyce is the widow of Joyce the +lumberman." + +"She seems to have all kinds of money." His face was thoughtful again. + +"Yes, she's rich, and she has been very kind to me. She took me to +California and to Europe. She is always doing things for me. It was just +like her to come to me yesterday--she is not one to fail in time of +trouble. I don't know what I should do without her." + +"She certainly is nice. What about Miss Wood? Does she believe in +your--your Voices?" He asked this without direct glance. + +"Yes. She doesn't say much, but she is deeply grateful to my guides." + +"She's no ordinary girl, I can see that. Is she rich also?" + +"Not as Mrs. Joyce is rich, but The Voices have sort of adopted her. +They say they will make her wealthy as a queen." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"They are telling her from week to week just how to invest her money." + +"Do you mean to tell me that _you_ advise her how to invest her money?" + +"No, I mean _The Voices_ advise her." + +"Why should 'they' know anything about business?" + +She became evasive. "They do! They've proved it again and again. Mrs. +Joyce's income has doubled in five years by following father's advice." + +He pondered on this deeply. "I don't like that. I don't see why you or +your Voices should be valuable in that way." + +"There are many things in this world for you to learn, my son," she +replied with an assumption of superior wisdom. + +This nettled him. "It don't take much wisdom to know that if you go on +advising people in that way you'll get into trouble. That's what that +writer said in the paper." + +She closed her lips tightly as if to keep back a cutting reply, and he +rose briskly. "Well, see here, we must put away these dishes." + +She acquiesced in his postponement of the discussion, and helped him +wash the dishes and set the room to rights. At last she said: "Where is +the morning _Star_? Have you seen it?" + +"There's a paper at the foot of the stairs; is that yours?" + +"Yes," she replied. + +"I'll get it," he said, and was out of the door and back again before +she fully realized that he was gone. He opened the twist of damp paper +with haste, fully expecting to find some new attack on "Mrs. Ollnee, the +Blood-sucker," but there was nothing. "All the same, you're not safe in +this house," he said. "They threatened to arrest you, and I don't like +to leave you here alone to-day." + +"You need not worry about me," she replied, quietly. "Father will take +care of me. If he saw any real danger coming my way he would warn me of +it." + +"He didn't warn you of the coming of the reporter, did he?" + +"No--he had some reason for permitting this cloud to come upon me. He +knows best." + +"I don't believe I'd put very much faith in 'guides' that didn't keep me +out of trouble." + +"Perhaps all this is a part of our discipline. They are wiser than we. I +accept even this disgrace as a good in disguise. Perhaps it was all +intended to bring you to me." + +The youth sank back again baffled by this all-inclosing acceptance. +"What do you intend to do to-day?" he asked, as she rose and walked over +to the little walnut table. + +"I am going to ask for advice." + +"Now?" + +"Yes; and I wish you would sit with me for a few moments and see if we +cannot secure direction for the day." + +He was beginning to be curious--and his desire to dig deeper into his +mother's brain overcame part of his repugnance. + +"All right," he boyishly answered, but his heart contracted with sudden +fear of finding her false. "Let's see what they're up to." + +"Take a seat opposite me," she said, and there was something commanding +in her voice. + +Drawing a chair up to the old brown table--which he remembered as one of +the pieces of furniture in his earliest childhood home--he took a seat. + +"Why do you keep this rickety old thing?" he asked, shaking it +viciously. + +"It was your grandfather's reading-table, and he likes me to keep it. +Besides, it is highly magnetized and very sensitive." + +"Oh rats!" he irreverently burst forth. "You can't magnetize a piece of +wood. Wood is a non-conductor. You can't subvert a physical law just by +saying so." + +"I don't mean it in that crude sense," she replied, quite mistress of +herself. She had taken up and was holding between her hands a small +hinged slate. + +"What's that for?" asked Victor. + +"To vitalize the surface. I am able to give it vitality by my touch." +She laid the slate upon the table and placed her spread hand upon it. +"Put your hand upon mine, Victor." + +He did as she bade him, rebelling at the childish folly of it all. "What +do you expect to do?" he asked. + +Almost immediately the slate seemed seized by a powerful hand. It began +to slide back and forth across the table violently, twisting and +clattering. The youth put forth his own great strength and stopped it, +but a crunching sound announced that the slate was broken. + +His mother said, sharply, "You mustn't do that, Victor." She took up the +slate and showed one corner crushed and crumbled. "You can't hold +it--you mustn't try--it angers them." + +He marveled at the strength which had resisted him, but argued that his +mother from long practice had become very muscular. Hysterical people +often displayed astounding power. + +After preparing a new slate she put it on the table as before, saying to +the air, "Please don't be rough, father--Victor can't prevent his +skepticism." + +Three loud raps answered, and she smiled. He says, "All right. He +understands." + +"Seems to me he's mighty touchy for one on the heavenly plane," Victor +retorted, maliciously. "Seems to me an all-seeing spirit ought to get my +point of view." + +A vigorous tapping on the table responded to this speech. + +"What's that?" asked Victor. + +"That is your father saying yes, he _does_ get your point of view." + +Victor had a feeling that his mother was receding from him as he faced +her across the table. She became the professional medium in her manner +and tone. He, too, changed. He hardened, assuming the attitude of the +scientific observer--hostile and derisive. His keen hazel-gray eyes +grew penetrating and his lips curled in scorn. His tone hurt her, but +she persisted in her sitting, and at last the slate began to tremble +throughout all its parts, and a grating sound like slow writing with a +pencil went on beneath it. Victor could plainly follow the dotting of +the i's and the crossing of the t's, till at the end a tapping indicated +that it was finished. + +"You may take the slate, Victor," said Mrs. Ollnee. + +He took it from the table and opened it. On one side, in bold script--a +bit old-fashioned--stood these words: "_Stay where you are. Let the boy +adventure into the city. Await results. I will be near. FATHER._" + +Victor, astounded, mystified, confronted his mother with wide eyes. +"Now, what does that mean?" + +"It means that I am to keep this house just as it is and you are to seek +work in the city. Is that right, Paul?" + +Three taps made answer. + +The youth was stunned by the boldness and cleverness of all this. He was +pained, too. He perceived no sign of abnormal thinking in his mother's +action. She was not hysterical. _She was not entranced._ Whatever she +did she did consciously--and the thought that she could deliberately +deceive him was shocking. He breathed quickly and a nervous clutch came +into his hands. He resented being fooled. "Let's try that again," he +said; and his tone was precisely that of the child who sees a grown +person swallow a coin and take it out of his ear. He was angry as well +as sad. "Don't put your hand on it," he protested. "I don't like the +looks of that." + +She submitted, and then as he was putting it down on the table the sound +of writing was heard within it. He laid his hand on the slates, and +still the writing went on! With amazement he realized that both her +hands were in sight and in no wise concerned in the writing. The right +rested lightly and quietly on the frame of the slate, but the left, +which lay on the opposite corner of the table, was quivering throughout +all its minute muscles. + +Amazed beyond words, excited, breathing deep, with a shudder of nervous +excitement running over his entire body, Victor listened to the mystic +pencil. "How _do_ you work that?" he asked, in a whisper. + +"I don't know. I have nothing to do with it," she answered; and taking +the upper hinge of the slate between her fingers and thumb she slowly +raised it. + +_And still the writing went on!_ + +Victor, holding his breath in awe, bent to look within, but as the +opening grew wider the writing stopped. + +He snatched the slates from the table and studied the lines, which were +made up of minute dots. It was all perfectly legible: "_Son. I doubted. +Now I know._" + +Victor sank back into his seat and stared speechlessly at the slate and +the table. The problem of his mother's mediumship had taken on new +elements of mystery. This physical test brought it into the range of his +knowledge and interest. It was no longer a question of her honesty or +sanity, it had become a problem in dynamics. + +How was that bit of pencil moved? The messages he ignored--they didn't +matter--but the method of their production seemed to eliminate all +trickery, conscious or unconscious. Why did his mother's left hand +quiver--and how could that writing shape itself? + +His voice was husky with emotion as he said: "Mother, I don't understand +that. You've got to tell me how that is done." + +She felt the desperate resolution in his voice and she solemnly +answered, "My son, I don't _know_ how it is done." + +"But you _must_ know! Who moves that pencil! Your hand quivered all the +time." + +"Yes, I seem to have some physical connection with it--at times. Other +times all that takes place has no more connection with me than the +sunlight on the floor. The world is a very mysterious place to me, +Victor. I don't pretend to know anything. I do as I am told." + +He fell silent again while his mind reviewed the entire process. Then +he burst out, vehemently, on a new line. "I can't believe my eyes. +You've hypnotized me. Mother, for God's sake don't juggle with me--don't +play tricks with me. I won't stand for it. It hurts me--" He paused, +confused, baffled, ready to weep. + +"Can you, my own son, accuse me of trickery?" she asked. + +"You _think_ you're honest, mother--but don't you see you've become an +_unconscious hypnotist_? It's your subconscious self deceiving us both. +I don't know how you do it, but I know it must be a fraud." + +"Victor," she said, solemnly, "what this power is you shall have full +opportunity to determine, but I say to you that for more than twenty +years I've been guided by these unseen presences. I've tested their +wisdom and lived under their care. So far as this message is concerned I +accept it. I was confused and frightened yesterday, but this morning I +am calm. I shall do as they bid. I shall stay here while you go down +into the city and see what you can find to do, and together we will test +these voices." + +There was a ring of new-found decision in her tone that quite dashed +him. He sat dumbly facing her, helpless in a whirl of mental storm. "Is +she more cunning than I thought? Is she playing a more complex game than +appears?" These thoughts vaguely shaped themselves. Then his filial self +answered: "But what has she to gain? She loves me. She has sacrificed +herself to keep me at school--why should she deceive me?" + +Here again a third conception came to embitter him. He spoke. "You don't +seem to mind my loss of a degree?" + +"Yes, I do, Victor. I feel that very deeply, but the higher wisdom of +your grandfather resigns me. I cannot tell what is behind it. By his +power to read the future he may be preventing some terrible accident, +some calamity by fire or water--I have an impression that it is +something of that sort." + +"_No_," came a whisper from the air. + +She turned her face upward, and, listening intently, asked, "What is the +reason, father?" + +"_Discipline_," the whisper replied. + +"He says 'discipline,' Victor." + +"Discipline!" he echoed. "Why should I be disciplined? What have I +done?" + +"_It is not what you've done--it's what you are to do._" + +The Voice did not reply to further questions, and the silence gave out a +kind of cold contempt, which cut the boy as he waited. + +"Let's try that slate business again," he said at last. But to this his +mother would not consent. + +"It's of no use," she said. "They are gone. There is no 'power' +present." + +He again faced her with alien, accusing eyes. "When will you try this +again?" + +"To-night, when you come home." + +"Home!" he sneered, looking about. "Do you expect me to call this place +home? Do you expect me to hang about this scrubby hole to be disciplined +by your Voices?" + +The sound of a knock at the door gave her a moment's respite. "The +postman," she explained as she rose to go to the door. + +She was gone for several minutes and Victor heard her in friendly +conversation with a pleasant male voice. Some way this added to his +anger and disgust. + +She came back with a letter in her hand which she began at once to open. +"It is from Louise, I mean Mrs. Joyce." + +She read it through with smiling face, then said, "Victor, you must be +nice to Louise, she has done _everything_ for us." + +This brought him to his feet. "I understand all that now. It is _her_ +money I've been living on--I won't touch another cent that comes from +her. Understand that! I won't eat another dinner that she pays for." + +"Why, Victor, you should not feel that way! What has she done to make +you bitter?" + +"Nothing. I refuse to live on her charity, that's all, and I want you to +find out just how much I owe her--how much _you_ owe her--for I intend +to pay her back every dollar with interest." + +"But she considers I've already paid her. She feels that I have always +given her bounteous return for all her aid." + +"I don't figure it that way," he said. "She's just amusing herself--" + +She interrupted. "Listen to what she says." She read: "'I want to tell +you how much I like your son. He is so vivid and so powerful. I'm sorry +he is to miss his degree. Can't you persuade him to go back? I'll be +glad to advance what is necessary--'" + +"There it is, you see! There's the rich lady helping a poor relation." + +"Wait, son!" she pleaded, and read on. "'I feel that I owe you ten times +what you've permitted me to do for you.'" + +"That's all very nice of her, mother, but I won't have any more of it." +He pounded out the sentence with his fist. + +She looked up at him with mingled fear and pride. "You are exactly like +your father as you say that," she declared. "Oh, Victor, my son! If +_you_ leave me in anger I shall be desolate indeed. I can't live without +you. Please believe in me--and love me--for you're all I have on this +earth." + +His anger died away. He saw her again as she really was, a pale, devoted +little saint, with troubled brow and quivering lips, one who had shed +her very life-blood for him--to doubt her became a monstrous cruelty. + +He put his arms about her and hugged her close. "I didn't mean to hurt +you, mother--but your world is so strange to me. I'll stay, I'll do the +best I can here; only don't work this slate trick any more. Don't sit +for any one but me. Will you promise that?" + +"May I not sit for Louise?" + +"Not without me." + +"I dare not promise, Victor. Father may insist. If he does _not_ insist +I will do as you wish. I will give it up." + +He kissed her. "Dear little mother, you sha'n't live alone any more, and +you shall soon have a home that is worthy of you." + +She was weeping, and a big lump in his own throat made speech difficult. +To cover his emotion he slangily said: "Well, now, it's me to the marts +of trade. Perhaps I'll fool The Voices yet." + + + + +IV + +VICTOR THROWS DOWN THE ALTAR + + +"How do people get jobs," he asked himself as he set forth. "'Want ads,' +I suppose." He went deeper. "What am I fitted for? I can keep books--in +a fashion--or I can clerk. My training has not fitted me for any special +thing, unless to sell sporting-goods." This was a "lead," and his face +brightened. "My work on the team ought to help me in that direction. +Good idea! I'll hie me to the sporting-goods houses." + +The first two managers with whom he talked, while much impressed by him, +were completely manned, but the third was disposed to consider him till +he told him his name. "No relation to Mrs. Ollnee, the medium?" he +asked, with a grin, while poising his pencil to write. + +For an instant Victor hesitated, then took the leap. "Well, yes, I am, +but then you don't want to believe that report; it's more than half a +lie." + +The manager's smile vanished. He left the address half finished. "So you +are the son they spoke of?" he said, with a cold, keen glance. + +"Yes, I am," Victor boldly answered. + +He closed his book. "I don't believe we can trade," he announced. "Of +course _I_ don't consider all mediums frauds and liars, but this house +is very particular about its help--" + +Victor turned and walked away, bitterly rebellious of soul and +disheartened. For a time his anger burned so hotly within him that he +meditated taking the train and leaving the city and all it held behind +him. Again and again his thought returned to the picture his gentle +little mother had made as she had said good-by to him at the head of the +stairs. To accuse her of conscious deception was like accusing a sweet +girl of infanticide. How could she build up a system of fraudulent +fortune-telling, so intricate, so subtle, that it baffled the eye of the +reporter, who confessed that he had not been able to detect the +trickery. "It is only by induction, by inference, that one gets at the +_modus operandi_," he admitted. + +In his perturbation he walked away to the east and soon came out upon +the lake-front. A bunch of men and boys of all types and sizes were +playing ball on the barren ground, and with the athlete's undying love +of the sport he rose and edged into the game. He could not resist +showing his prowess by means of a few curves, and the crowd with instant +perception began to take a vivid interest in him. + +A half-hour of this restored his good-nature and he returned to the +canyons to the west, determined to find an opening somewhere. He was +never dismissed rudely--he was too big and well-dressed for that--but +the fact that he had no experience shut him out in most cases, and for +the rest the departments were filled with salesmen. Twice when he seemed +about to be taken on, his name and his mothers reputation shut the door +of opportunity in his face. + +At four o'clock he started slowly homeward, discouraged, not so much by +his failure as by the fact that everybody seemed to have a knowledge of +the article in the _Star_. It was evident that even when a manager did +not at the moment make the connection between his name and Mrs. Ollnee's +it would certainly come out later and he would be called upon to defend +himself and his mother from the sneers and jeers of his fellow-salesmen. +"I'm a marked man, that's sure," he said, in dismay. + +All day his mind had dwelt in flashes on the glorious life at Winona, +but now his memory of it was poisoned by the thought that he had been a +pensioner on the bounty of Mrs. Joyce. "The easy thing would be to +change my name and skip out for the plains," he said again, "but I +won't. I'll stay and fight it out right here some way." + +He was passing the public library at the moment and was moved to go in +and look up the "want ads" in the papers. Ten minutes' reading of these +filled him with despair. There were so many wanting work! His feet were +tired with walking and his brain weary with the movement of the street, +therefore he moved on to the reference room where he found an atmosphere +of study that was very grateful. + +Accustomed to work of this kind, he asked the attendant to bring him +catalogues, and was soon surrounded with books and magazines which dealt +with the modern study of psychic phenomena. He fell upon one or two of +these which gave exhaustive generalizations, and he was astounded to +find that European men of science of the loftiest type were engaged in +the study of precisely the same phenomena which his mother claimed to +produce. + +Careless of all else, he remained until six o'clock absorbed and +confused by what he read. Words and phrases like "telekinesis," +"teleplastic," "parasitic personalities," "externalized motricity," +"bio-psychic energy" danced about in his brain like fantastic insects. +He fairly staggered with the weight of the conceptions laid upon him, +and when at last he went out into the streets he had forgotten his race +for place behind the counter. + +It was nearly sunset, and his afternoon--his day--had gone for naught! +He was as far as ever from securing work--and wages--to keep his little +mother and himself from the corrupting care of charity. He was a bit +disgusted with himself, too, for wasting valuable time, and yet he was +enough of the scholar to feel a glow of delight in the company he had +been keeping. There was something large and free in the attitude of +those Italian men toward the universe, and before he had walked far he +promised himself to go again and continue that line of investigation. As +he walked up the avenue he came face to face with the dark, thin-faced +girl who had knocked at his mother's door the day before. She seemed +about to speak, but he passed her with blank look. + +He found his mother at the window waiting for him, and upon seeing him +she hurried to meet him at the head of the stairs. + +"What luck?" she called, with a smile. + +He shook his head. "Nothing doing," and received her caress rather +coldly, for he perceived Mrs. Joyce in the room. "It isn't so easy to +find a job. I'll be lucky if I dig one up in a week, I suppose." + +Mrs. Joyce greeted him cordially. "I've just been making a proposition +to your mother, Victor--I hope you'll let me call you Victor--which is, +that we all go abroad for a few months till this storm blows over." + +He looked at her with gravely interrogating glance. "How could we do +that?" + +She explained. "You both go as my guests, of course. We can motor +through France in June and get up into Switzerland in July." + +He sank into a chair and dazedly studied her. "Why should you offer to +do all that for us?" + +"Because I am very grateful to your mother for what she has done for me. +She not only cured my mother of cancer--she has cured me of despair. She +has taught me to believe again in the mystery of the world." + +"You mean she has done this as--as a medium?" + +"Yes--through her guides she has given me faith in the hereafter. Their +advice on a hundred different things has made life easy for me. My +wealth is largely due to the wisdom of Mr. Astor, who speaks through +her. He advises, and so does your grandfather, that I take you all +abroad this summer, and I think it a very nice suggestion." + +"Oh, the suggestion came from The Voices, did it?" His voice was full of +scornful suggestion. + +"Yes; but I thought of it myself yesterday as I read that terrible +article. You see, I'm told by Mr. Bartol, my lawyer, that the city +officials are about to start another campaign against all forms of +mediumship. I think it best, and so does your father, that we all leave +the city for a time, and escape this persecution." + +The beleaguered youth was not a polite deceiver at his best, and this +proposal appeared to him not merely chimerical, but immoral, for the +reason that his mother must have really proposed it. Through her +uncanny power of hypnosis, of suggestion, she had put the idea into her +rich friend's head. "I won't consider any such proposition," he bluntly +answered. "I don't recognize my mother's claim. You owe her nothing. I +don't believe she can cure cancer, and she has no right to advise +anybody in business matters." + +"You say that because you know nothing of the facts," Mrs. Joyce briskly +replied. "I understand your situation perfectly. Your mother has kept me +informed of her worries--she has no secrets from me--and I must say I +foresaw this antagonism on your part. I felt that you were growing away +from her, and yet The Voices advised her to keep you at school and to +say nothing. To show you how close they watch you I can tell you that +we've been informed of your whereabouts several times to-day. You met a +young man at noon, a pale, serious young man, whose name is Gilmer, who +said he would help you. Isn't that true?" + +He was properly surprised. "Yes, I did meet such a man." + +"Then you went to the library and read for a long time?" + +He sneered. "Did The Voices tell you that I was turned down everywhere +on account of my mother's reputation as a medium?" + +"No; but they said you would oppose the idea of our going abroad, and +that you were under discipline." + +"You're tired, Victor," interposed the mother. "Don't worry over me any +more now. I'll get you some coffee." + +While she was gone on this errand Mrs. Joyce leaned toward Victor and +said: "I can understand a part of your feeling, because there was a time +when I lived in the world of definite, commonplace things--but you must +not oppose your mother's Voices. They are as real to her as anything in +this universe. I've _proved_ their reality again and again. As I say, +they have advised me in my investments and always right. In a sense--in +a very real sense--I owe a part of my wealth to your mother, and the +little that she has permitted me to do in return for her aid is +trifling. I want to do more. Please be just to your dear little mother, +who is truly a marvelous creature and loves you beyond all other earthly +things. She lives only for you. If it were not for you she would pass on +to the spirit plane to-night." + +Victor listened to her in a sullen meditation. The whole situation was +becoming incredibly fantastic, vaporous as the texture of a dream. + +Mrs. Joyce went on: "Come to my house to-night for dinner. Never mind +the morrow till the morrow comes. Come and talk with some friends of +mine--they may help you." + +He spoke thickly: "I'm much obliged, Mrs. Joyce. I'm grateful for what +you've done for us, but to take her money or yours now would be--would +be dishonest. I can't let you feed us any longer--we've got to fight +this out alone." + +"What will you do with her Voices?" she asked. + +"Forget 'em," he answered, curtly. + +"They'll force you to remember them," she warningly retorted. "I assure +you they hold your fate in their hands." + +Mrs. Ollnee, returning, cut short the discussion, which was growing +heated. + +As he drank his coffee Victor recovered a part of his native courtesy. +"I'm going to win out," he said, with kindling eyes. "It would have been +a wonder if I had found a job the first day. I'm going to keep going +till I wear out my shoes." + +A knock at the door made his mother start. + +"Another reporter!" she whispered. "They're pestering me still." + +Victor rose with a spring. "I'll attend to this reporter business," he +said, hotly. + +"No," interposed Mrs. Joyce; "let me go, please!" + +He submitted, and she went to meet the intruder. Her quiet, +authoritative voice could be heard saying: "Mrs. Ollnee is not able to +see any one. That cruel and false article of yesterday has completely +upset her.--No, I am only her friend and nurse. I have nothing to say +except that the article in the _Star_ was false and malignant." + +Thereupon she closed and locked the door and came back quite serious. +"They've been coming almost every hour, determined to see your mother. I +would have taken her away, only she persisted in saying she must remain +here till you returned." + +"Have you been here all day?" he asked, moved by the thought of her +loyalty. + +His mother answered. "Louise came about ten this morning--and except for +an hour at lunch we've both been here waiting, listening." + +This devotion on the part of a rich and busy woman was deeply revealing. +The youth was being educated swiftly into new conceptions of human +nature. His mother was neither beautiful nor wise nor witty. Why should +she attract and hold a lady like Mrs. Joyce? He wondered if she had been +quite honest with him. Would her interest be the same if The Voices had +not enriched her? + +She returned to her invitations. "Now put on your dinner-suit and come +with us," she insisted. "My niece, Leo, will be there--surely you will +respond to that lure?" + +His mother laid her small hand upon his arm. "Let us go, Victor. I am in +terror here." + +"Why did you stay? Why didn't you go before?" he demanded. + +"Because The Voices said '_Wait!_'--and besides, I wanted to be here +when you came." + +He rose. "You go. I will come after dinner and bring you home." + +Mrs. Joyce was quick on the trail of his intent. "You refuse to eat my +bread! You _are_ rigorous. Very well. Let it be so. Come, Lucy, let us +go." + +Mrs. Ollnee seemed to listen a moment, then rose. "You'll surely come +after dinner, Victor?" + +"Yes, I'll come about nine," he replied, in a tone that was hard and +cold. And she went away deeply hurt. + +Left alone, he walked about the "ghost-room" with bitterness deepening +into fury. What were these invisible, intangible barriers which confined +him? He stood beside the old brown table which he had hated and feared +in his boyhood. What silliness it represented. The pile of slates, some +of them still bearing messages in pencil or colored crayon, offered +themselves to his hand. He took up one of these and read its oracular +statement: "_He will come to see the glory of the faith. His neck will +bow. It is discipline. Do not worry. FATHER._" Here was the source of +his troubles! + +He dashed the slate to the floor and ground it under his heel. Catching +the table by the side and up-ending it, he wrenched its legs off as he +would have wrung the neck of a vulture. He breathed upon it a blast of +contempt and hate, and, gathering it up in fragments, was starting to +throw it into the alley when the door burst open and his mother +reappeared, white, breathless, appalled. + +"_Victor_; what are you doing?" she called, with piercing intonation. + +He was shaken by her tone, her manner, but he answered, "I'm going to +throw this accursed thing into the alley." + +She put herself before him with one hand pressed upon her bosom, her +breath weak and fluttering. + +"You--shall--not! You are killing me. Don't you see that is a part of +me. Don't you know--Put it down instantly! _My very life and soul are in +it._" + +He dropped the broken thing in a disordered pile at her feet. Her +anguish, which seemed both physical and mental, stunned him. As they +stood thus confronting each other Mrs. Joyce returned. She seemed to +comprehend the situation instantly, and, putting her arm about the +little psychic's waist, gently said, "You'd better lie down, Lucy, you +are hurt." + +Mrs. Ollnee permitted herself to be led to the little couch silently +sobbing. + +It was growing dusky in the room, and the youth, though still +rebellious, was profoundly affected by this action. His hot anger died +away and a swift repentance softened him. "Don't cry, mother," he said, +clumsily kneeling beside her. "I didn't think you cared so much about +the old thing." + +Mrs. Joyce broke forth in scorn: "What a crude young barbarian you are! +That table is something more than a piece of wood to her. It is a +sacred altar. It is the place where the quick and the dead meet. It is +sentient with the touch of spirit hands--and you have desecrated it. You +have laid violent hands upon your mother's innermost heart. You will +destroy her if you keep on in this way." + +At these words the youth for the first time caught a glimpse of the +vital faith which lay behind and beneath these foolish and ridiculous +practices. No matter what that worn table was to him, it stood for his +mother's faith--that he now saw--and he was sorry. + +"I can rebuild it again," he said. "It is not hopelessly smashed. I will +repair it to-morrow." + +The symbolism which could be read in his words seemed to comfort his +mother and she grew quieter, but her face remained ghastly pale and her +breathing troubled. + +Mrs. Joyce turned to him again. "You can't deceive her. She knew the +instant you laid your destroying hands on that slate." + +He did not doubt this. In some hidden way his action had reached and +acted upon his mother as she was speeding down the avenue. Her sudden +return proved this--and his hair rose at the thought of her +clairvoyancy, and in answer to Mrs. Joyce's question, "Why did you do +it?" he replied, sullenly, but not bitterly: + +"I did it because I detest the thing and all that goes with it. I have +hated that table all my life." + +"What did you think your mother would do?" + +"I didn't stop to think. I only wanted to get the brute out of sight. I +wanted to end the whole trade at once." + +"You've got to be careful or you'll end your mother's earth-life. Let me +tell you, boy, if you want to keep her on this plane with you you must +be gentle with her. Any shock, especially when she is in trance, is very +dangerous to her." + +Victor began to feel his helplessness in the midst of the intangible +entangling threads of his mother's faith. He now saw the folly of his +action, and took an unexpected way of showing his contrition. + +"If you'll forgive me, mother, I'll go with you to Mrs. Joyce's dinner. +Come, let's get away from here for a little while; I feel stifled." + +This pleased and comforted her amazingly. She rose and placed one frail, +cold hand about his neck. "Dear boy! I forgive you. You didn't realize +what you were doing." + +Releasing himself he gathered up the fragments of the table and tenderly +examined them. "It can be mended," he reported. "I'll do it the first +thing in the morning." + +A faint smile came back to his mother's face. "I don't mind, Victor. I +feel already that this has brought us closer together. Your father is +here--he is smiling--and I am happier than I've been for weeks." + +Victor dressed for his party with trembling limbs. It seemed as if he +had passed through a tremendous battle wherein he had been defeated--and +yet his heart was strangely light. + + + + +V + +VICTOR RECEIVES A WARNING + + +Mrs. Joyce's house was a stone structure of rather characterless design +which stood at the intersection of a wide boulevard and one of the +narrower crosstown streets, but it seemed very palatial to Victor as he +wonderingly entered its looming granite portal. His mother tripped up +the stairs with the air of one who feels very much at home. + +A man in snuff-colored livery took his hat and coat and ushered him into +a large reception-room on the left, and there his hostess found him some +ten minutes later. "Come and meet my brother from California," she said, +and led the way across the hall into the library, where a tall man with +gray hair and mustache was talking with a dark, alert and smoothly +shaven man of middle age. The one Mrs. Joyce introduced as her brother, +Mr. Wood, and the other as Mr. Carew. + +Victor was relieved to have Miss Wood enter and greet him cordially, for +the men did not seem to value him sufficiently to include him in their +conversation. Mr. Wood was reserved and the tone of Carew's voice was +cynical. + +Leonora Wood was of that severe type of beauty which requires stately +gowns, and Victor confessed that she was quite the finest figure of a +girl he had ever met, but when Mrs. Joyce said, "You are to take Leo out +to dinner" he merely bowed, resenting her amused smile. + +His seat at table brought him next a very old lady--Mrs. Wood, +senior--who beamed upon him with cheerful interest. There were several +other women of that vague middle age which does not interest youth. + +Miss Wood talked extremely well, and he became interested in spite of +himself. + +"I wonder how much longer we're going to believe in 'luck' and +'coincidence,'" she said, after some remark of his. "Maybe it's all +thought transference or telepathy or something." + +"Don't tell me you really believe in such things. Professor Boyden says +they are all a part of the spineless mysticism which is sweeping over +the country." + +She assumed a patronizing air. "It's natural for undergraduates to quote +their teachers. I wonder how long it will be before you will consider +them all old fogies." + +He rose to the defense of his hero. "Boyden will never be an old fogy. +He's the most up-to-date man in America. He really is the only +experimentalist along these lines. He's out for the facts." + +"Your mother's Voices say he is as blind as the rest, wilfully blind." + +"Do you really hold stock in my mother's Voices?" + +She gazed upon him in large-eyed wonder. "Yes, don't you?" + +"No. How can they be anything but a delusion?" + +"I don't know. I only know they are profoundly mysterious and that they +tell me things which convince me. They seem to know my most secret +thought. I have been _forced_ to believe in them. My aunt's fortune has +been doubled and my own income greatly augmented by their advice." + +He took this up. "Tell me more about that. What did they advise you to +do?" + +"They advised buying certain stocks in a machine for making paper boxes +and recommended the Universal Traction Company." + +At this moment Mrs. Wood, senior, plucked at his sleeve. "Louise tells +me you're the son of our dear medium, Lucy Ollnee." + +"I am, yes," he replied, rather ungraciously, for he was eager to revert +to Leo. + +"Perhaps you're a medium yourself," the old lady pursued. + +"Thank the Lord, no! I haven't the ghost of a Voice about me." + +She chuckled. "At your age one thinks only of love and dollars. When you +are as old as I am the next world will interest you a great deal more +than it does now. Besides, you must believe in spirits after they have +made you rich. They've made Louise and Leo rich--I suppose you know +that?" + +He soon turned back to Leo. "I wish people would not talk my mother's +Voices to me. I hear nothing else now." + +"It's your mother's 'atmosphere.' No one thinks of anything else when in +her presence." + +"Don't you see how intolerable all that is going to be for me?" he +asked, with bitter gravity. "I can see that she isn't exactly human even +to you. She's just a sort of a freak. No one loves her or seeks her for +herself alone, only for what she can do. That's another reason why I +must insist on her getting away from this. I will not have her treated +like a wireless telephone." + +Her eyes expressed more sympathy than she put into her voice. "I see +what you mean; but, believe me, I had not thought of her in just that +light, and I think you're quite wrong about my aunt. She is really very +fond of your mother." + +He was eager to know more of what this clear-sighted girl had seen, but +her neighbor, Mr. Carew, claimed her, and he was forced back upon +Grandmother Wood, who talked of her new faith to him for nearly half an +hour. + +After dinner, while the ladies were in the drawing-room and the men were +smoking their cigars, the perturbed youth expected to be freed from any +further inquisition, for Philo Wood was apparently of that type of man +who has no interest in the things he cannot turn into hard cash. The +merits of a new strawboard box-machine was engaging his attention at +this time, but, after a few minutes of polite discussion of the weather +and other general topics, Carew, the lawyer, turned to Victor and began +an interrogation which made him wince. Carew was very nice about it, but +he pursued such a well-defined line of inquiry that it amounted to a +cross-examination. He soon possessed himself of the fact that Victor did +not approve of his mother's way of life and that he was trying to secure +employment in order to stop all further "fortune-telling" on his +mother's part. "I don't believe in it," he reiterated. + +"The amazing thing to me," interposed Wood, with quiet emphasis, "is +that her predictions come true. I 'play the ponies' a bit"--he +smiled--"and I have tried to draw Mrs. Ollnee into partnership with me. +'You have the spooks point out the winning horse to me,' said I to her, +'and I'll share the pot with you.'" + +"And she wouldn't do it?" asked Carew. + +Wood seemed to be highly amused. "No, she says her guides do not +sanction gambling of any sort. And yet she advises Louise to buy into a +new transportation scheme that looks to me like the worst kind of a +gamble. My advice counts for nothing against these Voices." + +"That's true," admitted Carew. "You might as well be the west wind so +far as influencing her goes. Since 'Mr. Astor' butted into the game my +services are good only in so far as they drive tandem with his! Now you +say you have no belief in the thing," he said, turning again to Victor. +"How is that? How did that come about?" + +"Well, in the first place, I've given some study to what Professor +Boyden calls delusional hysteria," Victor responded. + +Wood smiled cynically. "My sister won't mind what you call it so long as +it enables your mother to designate the winning stocks." + +The attitude of each of these men was that of watchful tolerance, and +Victor chafed under their assumption of superior wisdom. He plainly +perceived that Wood was using the psychic for his own ends, and this +angered him. He shut up like a clam and left the room as soon as he +could decently do so. + +He made his way to where Leonora was sitting on a sofa in the library +and took his seat beside her, with intent to continue the conversation +which they had begun at the dinner, but he forgot his problems as he +looked into her merry, candid eyes. + +Her first word was a compliment to his mother. "How pretty she looks +to-night! No one would suspect her of being 'the dark and subtle siren' +of yesterday's _Star_. Her face is positively angelic at this moment. +How beautiful she must have been as a girl! I must say you do not +resemble her." + +"Thank you," he said. + +She laughingly explained. "I mean you are so tall and dark. You must +resemble your father." + +"I believe I do, although I cannot remember him." + +"I wonder if he had your absurd pride. Aunt Louise tells me you +absolutely refuse to accept any favor from her, and that you were +practically forced into coming to dinner to-night. Is that true?" + +He leaned toward her with intense seriousness. "How would you feel if +you had suddenly learned that all your clothing, your food, your theater +tickets--everything had been paid for in money drawn from strangers by +means of--well--hypnotism." + +"If I believed that I should feel as you do, but I don't. It is not so +simple as all that. Your mother's power seems very real to me, and so +far as I can now see she has given us all value received for every +dollar. By rights one-half of all our profits belongs to her, or, if you +prefer, to her Voices. Do you know that these Voices will not permit her +to retain more than a scanty living out of all the wealth she makes for +others? Did you know that?" + +"I know she lives in a shabby apartment, and she tells me that she is +entirely under the control of these 'guides.'" + +"Yes, they refuse to let her keep anything beyond what she actually +needs for herself and your education. I think all that should be counted +in on her side, don't you? The fact that she is not enriching herself +surely makes her part in the transaction a clean one." + +He sank away from her and brooded over this thought for a minute or two +before he replied. "But the whole thing is so preposterous. Have you +seen her slate-writing 'stunt'?" + +"Many times; but I don't think you should call it a 'stunt.'" + +"Come, now, give me your honest opinion. Do you think my mother +unconsciously cheats?" + +She faced him with convincing candor. "No, I don't. I think she is +perfectly simple and straightforward, and I believe the writing is +supernormal." + +"How can you believe that? You're a college girl, mother tells me. Don't +the belief in these things wipe out everything you have been taught at +school? It certainly rips science into strips for me, or would--if I +believed it. It makes a fool of a man like Boyden, that's a sure thing." + +Mrs. Joyce, looking across the room, smiled in delight at the charming +picture these young people made in their animated conversation. +Doubtless they were glowing over Tennyson's position in modern poetry or +the question of Meredith's ultimate standing in fiction. + +What the youth was really saying to the maid was this: "What did you get +out of it all? What did The Voices give you?" + +"They told me to study composition, for one thing. They told me I would +compose successful songs, with the aid of--of Schubert." She was a +little embarrassed at the end. + +"And you took all that in?" + +She colored. "I'm afraid I didn't really believe the Schubert part. +However, I'm studying composition on the _chance_ of their being right." + +"You say they advise you on money matters. How do they do that?" + +"They advise my uncle through me to sell stock in a certain company and +buy in another. They told me to withdraw my money from my California +bank and put it into this Universal Traction Company." + +"Did you do that?" + +"Yes." + +"I'm sorry. I wish you wouldn't take their advice. I wish you would put +your money back where it came from at once." + +"Why?" + +"Because it scares me to think of your going into anything on my +mother's advice." + +"But it wasn't your mother's advice. It was the advice of a great +financier." + +"You mean a dead financier?" + +"Yes." + +He did not laugh at this; on the contrary, his face darkened. "I've +heard about that. Did he advise your uncle to go into this same +transportation company?" + +"Yes; all our friends are in it." + +"You mean everybody that went to my mother for advice?" + +"Yes." + +"Do many go to her for help of this kind?" + +"No, not many; she gives sittings only to my aunt and her friends now. +There were several big business men of the city who went regularly. Why, +Mr. Pettus, the president of the Traction Company, relies upon her." + +The absurdity of these great capitalists going to his mother's +threadbare little apartment for counsel in ways to win millions made +Victor smile. He said, with a mock sigh, "I wish these Voices would tell +me where to find a job that would pay fifteen dollars a week." + +"They will--if you give yourself up to them. You must have faith." + +"Oh, but the whole thing is dotty. Why should a poor farmer like my +grandfather by just merely dying become a great financier?" Again his +brow darkened and his voice deepened with contempt. "It's all poppycock! +If he knows so much about the future why didn't he warn my mother +against that reporter that came in the other day to do her up? Why +didn't he permit me to stay on at Winona and get my degree?" + +The girl was troubled by his questions and evaded them. "It must have +been hard to leave in the midst of your final term." + +"It was punishing. It was like being yanked out of the box in the middle +of an inning, with the game all coming your way." + +She knew enough of baseball slang to catch his meaning and she smiled as +she asked, "Why don't you go back?" + +"Simply because I couldn't stand the chinning I'd get from my +classmates." + +"Can't you go on with your studies here and pass your examination?" + +"I might do that if I could get a job that would pay me my board and +leave me a little time to study." + +She looked up at him with smiling archness. "Why not drive an +automobile? You could carry your books around under the seat and study +while waiting outside the shops or the theaters." + +"Good idea!" he exclaimed, responding to her humor. "I'm pretty handy +with the machine. One of my friends up at Winona had one. I hope you own +a car." He said this with intent to indicate his growing desire to be +near her. + +Mrs. Joyce came over at this moment to inquire what they were so jolly +about. + +Leo answered: "I was just suggesting that Mr. Ollnee become a chauffeur. +He could go on with his studies--" + +"Capital!" exclaimed Mr. Joyce. "The man I have is liable to drink and +very crusty in the bargain. You may have his place." + +"I'm afraid I wouldn't do," he responded. "I might get crusty, too." + +"I hope you are not liable to drink," said Leo. + +"No, sarsaparilla is my only tipple. But this is all Miss Wood's joke," +he explained. + +"I'm not joking, indeed I'm not," the girl retorted. "I don't know of +any skill that is more in demand just now than that of a chauffeur. I +know of one who is studying the piano. I don't see any reason why Mr. +Ollnee should not take it up temporarily. It's perfectly honorable. +Witness Bernard Shaw's play." + +"Oh, I'm not looking down on any job just now," he disclaimed. "All I +ask is a chance to earn a living while I'm finding out what my best +points are." + +Mr. Wood beckoned and Leo rose to meet him. "We must be off," he said. + +Victor bade Leo good-night with such feeling of intimacy and +friendliness as he had not hoped to attain for any one connected with +Mrs. Joyce. There was something in the pressure of her hand and in the +sympathetic tone of her voice at the last that he remembered with keen +pleasure. + +Mr. Carew was deep in conversation with Mrs. Ollnee, and Victor drew +near with intent to know what was being said. The lawyer was very +gentle, very respectful, but Mrs. Ollnee was undergoing a thorough +investigation at his hands. He represented the calm, slow-spoken, but +very keen inquisitor, and the psychic was already feeling the force of +his delicate, yet penetrating sarcasm. + +"I would advise you not to trust your Voices in matters that relate to +life, limb, or fortune," he said, suavely, and a veiled threat ran +beneath his words. "These Voices may be deceiving you." + +Mrs. Ollnee protested with vehemence. "Mr. Carew, I am content to put my +_soul_ into their keeping." + +He bowed and smiled. "Your faith is very wonderful." Then he added, with +a glance at Mrs. Joyce, who was listening, "For myself, I would not put +my second-best coat in their keeping." + +Mrs. Joyce intervened at this point, and, after some little discussion +of a conventional topic, offered to send Victor and his mother home in +her car. Victor was not pleased by her offer. It was only putting him +just that much deeper into her debt, but he could not well refuse, +especially as his mother accepted it as a matter of course. + +On the way he took up the question of Carew's warning. "He's right, +mother. You must stop advising people to buy or sell." + +"Why so, Victor?" + +"Suppose you should advise buying the wrong thing?" + +"But they don't advise the wrong thing, Victor. They are always right." + +"Always?" + +"Nobody has ever reported a failure," she declared. + +"Well, it's sure to come. Why should father or grandfather know any more +about stocks now than he did before he died?" + +She was a little nettled by his tone. "They have the constant advice of +a great financier on that side." + +"So Miss Wood told me. Who is this great financier who is so willing to +help you decide what to do with other people's money?" he asked, +cuttingly. + +She hesitated a little before saying "Commodore Vanderbilt." + +He could not keep back a derisive shout. "Vanderbilt! Well, and you +believe 'the great commodore' comes to our little hole of a home to +advise us? Oh, mother, that's too ridiculous." + +"My son," she began with some asperity, "we've been all over that ground +before. You don't realize how you hurt, how you dishonor me when you +doubt me and laugh at me." + +He felt the pain in her voice and began an apology. "I don't mean to +laugh at you, mother. But you must remember that I have been a student +for four years in the atmosphere of a great university, and all this +business--I've got to be honest with you--it's all raving madness to me. +You certainly must stop advising in business matters. Mr. Carew to-night +intended to give you warning." + +"I know he did," she quietly responded. + +"He meant to be kind. He meant to say that you were liable at any moment +to be held accountable for advice that went wrong. He told me that the +courts were full of cases where mediums had led people into willing +their property away, or where they had juggled with somebody else's +fortunes. He told me of having convicted one woman of this and of having +sent her to jail." + +"But have I prospered from these advices?" she asked, indignantly. "Can +any one accuse me of getting rich out of my 'work'? Please consider +that." + +"That does puzzle me. I can't see why 'they' help others and leave us +with a bare living. And, most important of all, why do 'they' permit you +to be hounded this way? Why didn't 'they' warn you? Why don't 'they' +help me?" + +She sighed submissively. "Of course they have their own reasons. In good +time all will be revealed to us. They are wiser than we, for all the +past and all the future are unrolled before their eyes." + +This reply silenced him. Small and gentle as she was, Victor realized +that she could resist with the strength of iron when it came to an +assault upon her faith. + +Above the knob of their own door they found a folded newspaper, and this +Victor seized with misgiving. "I wonder what is coming next?" he said. + +She paled with a definite premonition of trouble. "Open it at once," she +commanded. + +He was as eager as she, for he, too, foresaw some new attack upon their +peace. Lighting the gas, he opened the paper with trembling hands. On +the first page was his own photograph and the story of his leaving +college to defend his mother. Everything, even to the parting with +Frenson, was set down, luridly, side by side with the report of a +celebrated murder trial. + +At sight of this new indignity his sense of youth and weakness came back +upon him and, crumpling up the paper, he flung it upon the floor in +impotent rage. + +"That ends the fight here," he said. "How can I go about this town +seeking work to-morrow? Everybody will know my story, and, what's more, +here is your address given in full. Don't you see that makes it +impossible for either of us to remain here another day?" + +For the first time in her life the indomitable little psychic quailed +before the persistent malice of her foes. The splintered altar of her +faith lying in a disordered heap upon the floor symbolized the +estrangement which she felt between her invisible guides, her son, and +herself. Her maternal anxiety had developed swiftly in these few hours +of blissful companionship, and the world of wealth and comfort--for her +boy's sake--had become suddenly of enormous importance to her. She +wished him to be a happy man, and this desire weakened her abstract +sense of duty to the race. She spoke aloud in a tone of entreaty, +addressing herself to the intangible essences about her. "Father, are +you here? Speak to me, help me, I need you." + +Victor turned upon her with darkened brow. "Oh, for God's sake, stop +that! I don't want any advice from the air." + +She persisted. "Paul, come to me! Tell me what to do. Please come!" + +Her voice was thrilling with its weakness and appeal, but Victor was +furious. He refused to listen. His brow was set and stern. + +At last she cried out, poignantly, "They are not here. They have +deserted us. What shall I do?" She turned toward the table. "Rebuild my +altar. You said you would. Restore that and perhaps they will come to us +again. They are angry with me now. They have left me, perhaps forever." + +"If 'they' have I shall be glad of it," he returned, brutally. "'They' +have been a curse to you and to me, also. We are better off without +them. Come, let us pack up the few things we have and go away into the +West, where no one will know even so much as our name. That is the only +way left open for us." + +"No, no," she cried out, "that is impossible. I must remain here. I must +wait until they come back to me. I can't go now, and you must not desert +me," she ended, and in her voice was something very pitiful. + +He moved away from her and took his seat in sullen rage. For a long time +he did not even look at her, though he knew she was waiting and +listening. + +At last he rose, and his voice was harsh and hoarse. "Mother, my mind is +made up. There's no use talking against it. I leave this city to-morrow +morning. I shall go as far as my money will carry me. I shall change my +name and get rid of this whole accursed business. I've hated it, I've +hated your 'ghost-room' and your Voices all my life, and this is the end +of it for me. If you will not go with me then I must leave you behind." + +She uttered a moaning cry of grief and ran like one stricken into her +room, flinging herself face downward upon her bed. He listened for a few +moments with something tugging at his heart-strings, but his face was +set in unrelenting lines. Then he rose and set to work repacking his +trunk. + + + + +VI + +VICTOR IS CHECKED IN HIS FLIGHT + + +When Victor woke from his uneasy sleep next morning his first glance was +toward his mother's room wherein he had seen her vanish in an agony of +grief and despair. All was quiet, and after dressing himself--still +firmly resolved upon flight--he went to the door and silently peered in. + +She was sleeping peacefully, her thin hands folded on her breast, and he +drew a sigh of relief. + +"I am glad she's able to sleep," he said, and stole back to the pantry. + +He studied its sparse supplies with care. There was not much to do with, +but he boiled some eggs and made coffee very quietly, with intent to let +his mother sleep as long as she could. He found himself less savage than +the night before. + +"I can't leave till she wakes," he said to himself, "but I'm going, all +the same." + +In order to pass the time of waiting he went down to the foot of the +stairs to find the morning paper. He opened it with apprehension, but +breathed a sigh of relief upon finding no further "scare heads" of +himself. The only reference to his mother came in the midst of an +editorial advocating the cleaning out of all the healers, palmists, +fortune-tellers, and mediums in the city. With lofty virtue the writer +went on to say that the _Star_ had refused to advertise the business of +these people, no matter what the pecuniary reward, and that it purposed +a continuous campaign. "We intend to pursue all such women as Mrs. +Ollnee, who fasten upon their credulous dupes like leeches," he +declared. + +As Victor read this paragraph he caught again the violence of contrast +between the woman pictured by the pen of the editor and the pale, sweet, +mild-voiced little woman who was his mother. It would have been funny +had it not been so serious and so personal. Furthermore, the paragraph +strengthened him in his determination to leave the city, and he still +hoped to be able to persuade his mother to go with him. + +At eight o'clock he once more tiptoed in to see if she still slept, and +finding her in the same position his heart softened with pity. "She must +have been completely tired out, poor little mother! I'm afraid what I +said to her worried her." + +After another hour of impatient waiting he again entered her room and +studied her more intently. There was something suggestive of death in +the folded hands and he could detect no breathing. Her face was as pale +as that of a corpse, and his blood chilled a little as he approached +her. He called to her at last, but she did not stir. + +Stepping to her bedside, he laid his palm upon her wrist. It was cold as +ice, and he started back filled with fear. "Mother! _mother!_ Are you +ill?" he called. She gave no sign of life. + +For a long time he stood there, rigid with fear, not knowing what to do. +He knew no one in all the city upon whom he could call save Mrs. Joyce +and Leo, and he did not know their street or number. He felt himself +utterly alone, helpless, ignorant as a babe, and in the presence of +death. + +Gradually his brain cleared. Sorrow overcame his instinctive awe of a +dead body. He felt once more the pulseless arm and studied closely the +rigid face. "She is gone!" he sobbingly cried, "and I was so cruel to +her last night!" + +The memory of his harsh voice, his brutal words, came back to plague +him, now that she was deaf to his remorse. How little, how gentle she +was, and how self-sacrificing she had been for him! "She burned out her +very soul for me," he acknowledged. + +He remained beside her thus till the sound of a crying babe on the floor +below suggested to him the presence of neighbors. Hastening down-stairs, +he knocked upon the first door he came to with frantic insistence. + +A slatternly young woman with a crown of flaming red-gold hair came to +the door. She smiled in greeting, but his first words startled her. + +"My mother is dead. Come up and help me. I don't know what to do." + +His tone carried conviction, and the girl did not hesitate a moment. She +turned and called: "Father, come here quick. Mrs. Ollnee is dead." + +An old man with weak eyes and a loose-hung mouth shuffled forward. To +him the girl explained: "This is Mrs. Ollnee's son. He says his mother +is dead. I'm going up there. You look out for the baby." She turned back +to Victor. "When did she die?" + +"I found her cold and still this morning." + +"Have you called a doctor?" + +"No, I don't know of any to call." + +"Jimmie!" she shrieked. + +A boy's voice answered, "What ye want, maw?" + +"Jimmie, you hustle into your clothes and run down the street to Doctor +Sill's office and tell him to come up here right away. Hurry now!" + +Closing the door behind her, she started resolutely up the stairway, and +her action gave Victor a grateful sense of relief. + +"What do you think ailed her?" she asked. + +"I don't know. She seemed all right last night when I went to bed." + +This woman, young in years, was old in experience, that was evident, for +she proceeded unhesitatingly to the silent bedside with that courage to +meet death which seems native to all women. She, too, listened and felt +for signs of life and found none. "I reckon you're right," she said, +quietly. "She's cold as a stone." + +At her words the strong young fellow gave way. He turned his face to the +wall, sobbing, tortured by the thought that his bitter and savage +assault and expressed resolve to leave her had been the cause of his +mother's death. "What can I do?" he asked, when he was able to speak. "I +must do something--she was so good to me." + +The young woman, looking upon him with large tolerance and a certain +measure of admiration, replied: "There's nothing to do now but wait for +the doctor. You'd better come down with me and have some coffee." + +He did not feel in the least like eating or drinking, but he needed +human companionship. Therefore he followed his neighbor down the stairs +and into her cluttered little living-room with submissive gratitude. The +home was slovenly, but it was glorified by kindliness. A tousled baby of +eighteen months was keeping the old man busy and a small boy of eight or +nine was struggling into his knickerbockers, and Victor, thrust into the +midst of this hearty, dirty, noisy household, remembered with increasing +respect his mother's dainty housekeeping. "She was a lady," he said to +himself, in definition of the difference between her apartment and this. +"Her home was poor, but it was never ratty." + +Mrs. Bowers was kindness and consideration itself. Her father, deaf and +partly paralytic, was treated gently, although he was irritatingly slow +of comprehension and insisted on knowing all about what had taken place +up-stairs. It pained and disgusted Victor inexpressibly to have his +mother's condition bawled into the old man's ears, but he could not +reasonably interfere. + +He thought of Mrs. Joyce, knowing that his mother would want to have her +instantly informed. "I ought to telephone some friends," he said to Mrs. +Bowers. "Where is the nearest 'phone?" + +She told him, and he went out and down the steps in haste to let Mrs. +Joyce know of his tragic bereavement, and when at the drug-store near by +he finally succeeded in getting communication with the house he was +deeply disappointed to be told by the butler that Mrs. Joyce was not +down and could not be disturbed so early in the morning. + +"But I _must_ see her," he insisted. "My mother, Mrs. Ollnee, her +friend, is--is--very sick. I am Victor, her son, and I'm sure Mrs. Joyce +would want to speak to me." + +The butler's voice changed. "Oh, very well, Mr. Ollnee," he replied, +knowing the intimacy which existed between his mistress and the +psychic. "Just hold the line; I'll call her." + +It was a long time before the calm, cultivated voice of Mrs. Joyce came +over the 'phone, but it was worth the waiting for. "Who is it?" she +asked. + +"Mrs. Joyce, this is Victor Ollnee. My mother is very, very ill. I'm +afraid she's dead." + +He heard her gasp of pain and surprise as she called: "Your mother! Why +she seemed perfectly well last night." + +"I found her lying cold and still this morning. I can't detect any pulse +or any breathing. Can't you come over at once? Please do. I don't know a +soul in the city but you, and I'm in great trouble." + +"You poor boy! Of course I'll come. I'll be over instantly. Have you +called a doctor?" + +"No, I don't know of any." + +"Where are you now?" + +"At the corner drug-store." + +"Is any one with your mother?" + +"No, but the woman below has been up. She is quite sure my mother is +dead." + +"Gracious heavens! I can't realize it. Good-by for a few minutes. I'll +come at once." + +Victor returned to Mrs. Bowers' apartment with a glow of grateful +affection for Mrs. Joyce. It was wonderful what comfort and security +came to him with her voice so sincerely filled with compassion and +desire to help. He wondered if Leo would come with her, and asked +himself how the news of his bereavement would affect her. Her attitude +toward him had been that of the elder sister who felt herself also to be +the wiser, but he did not resent that now. + +He thought of the effect of his mother's death upon the press. Would the +_Star_ forego its malignant assault upon her character now that she was +gone beyond its reach? Would those who threatened her with arrest be +remorseful? + +Mrs. Bowers persuaded him to take another cup of hot coffee, and then +together they returned to the little apartment above to wait for the +coming of the doctor and Mrs. Joyce. The young mother became +philosophical at once. "After a body gets to be forty I tell you he +don't know what's going to happen next. I reckon you better set here +where you can't see the bed," she added, kindly. "It don't do any good, +and it only makes you grieve the harder." + +He obeyed her like a child and listened through his mist of tears as she +rambled on. "I've had my share of trouble," she explained. "First my +mother went, then my oldest boy, then my husband took sick. Yes, a body +has to face trouble about so often, anyway, and, besides, I don't +suppose your mother was afraid of death, anyhow. I've known all along +what her business was, ever since I came into the house, and I've been +up to see her a few times. Still I'm not much of a believer. Dad is, +though. It's his greatest affliction that he can't hear The Voices any +more. I want to say I believe in your mother. She was a mighty fine +woman; but the docterin of spiritualism I never could swaller, +notwithstanding I grew up 'longside of it." + +The sound of a decisive step on the stairs cut her short. "I bet a +cookie that's the doctor!" + +A clear, crisp, incisive voice responded to her greeting at the door, +and a moment later a beardless, rather fat young fellow was confronting +Victor with professional, smiling eyes. "You're not the patient," he +stated, rather than asked. Victor shook his head and pointed to the bed. + +With quick step the physician entered the bedroom and set to work upon +the motionless form with methodical haste. He was still busy in this way +when the whir of a motor car announced Mrs. Joyce. + +Victor was at the door to meet her, and when she saw him she opened her +arms and took him to her broad, maternal bosom. "You poor boy!" she +said, patting his shoulder. "You're having more than your share of +trouble." + +He frankly sobbed out his penitence and grief. "Oh, Mrs. Joyce! She's +gone, and I was so hard last night. I'll never forgive myself for what I +said to her." + +She again patted him on the shoulder with intent to comfort him. "There, +there! I don't believe you have anything to reproach yourself for, and, +then, remember your mother's beautiful faith. She has not gone far away. +Her heaven is not distant. She is very near. She has merely cast off the +garment we call flesh. She is here, close beside you, closer than ever +before, touching you, knowing what you think and feel." + +In this way she comforted him, and in a measure drew his mind away from +the memory of his cruel and unfilial words. + +Sill approached her with thoughtful glance. "Are you related to this +woman?" + +"No, I am only a friend," replied Mrs. Joyce; "but this is her son." + +"When did you discover your mother's present condition?" + +"This morning." + +"Did you fold her hands and put her in the position she occupies?" + +"No, that is the strange thing. When I left her last night she was--she +was lying across the bed, face downward. I had just told her that I was +going away and that I wanted her to go with me. She refused to do this +and tried to get The Voices to speak to her. They would not come, and so +she, being hurt, I suppose, by what I said, ran into the room and flung +herself down on the bed, weeping. I was angry at her and did not speak +to her again. I went to sleep out here on the couch, and did not see her +again till morning. When I looked in at eight o'clock she was lying just +as she is now." + +Sill eyed him keenly. "Do you mean that you quarreled?" + +Mrs. Joyce interposed. "I can explain that," she said. "Mrs. Ollnee was +my friend. She was what is called a medium. She is the Mrs. Ollnee you +may have read about in the papers." + +"Ah!" Sill's tone conveyed a mingling of surprise and increased +interest. "So you are the son of Mrs. Ollnee?" he said, turning to +Victor. + +Mrs. Joyce again answered for him. "Yes; he has been away at school; he +came home Sunday to comfort and protect his mother; but, unfortunately, +he does not accept her faith. He rebelled against her work, and demanded +that she give up her Voices. I can understand his wanting her to go away +with him, and I can understand also how painful it was to her; but I +don't believe that what he said had anything to do with her passing out. +She was very frail at best, and has many times said that she expected to +leave the body in one of her trances and never again resume her worn-out +garment." + +"She was subject to trances, then?" + +"Yes, though not strictly a trance-medium, she did occasionally pass out +of the body." + +"May I take your name?" + +"Certainly; I am Mrs. John H. Joyce, of Prairie Avenue." + +His manner changed. "Oh yes. I should have known you, Mrs. Joyce, I have +seen you before. What you tell me does not explain the disposal of Mrs. +Ollnee's body. She must have gone to her death consciously, as if +preparing to sleep. Perhaps she intended only to enter a trance." + +Mrs. Joyce started. "She may be in trance now! Have you thought of that, +Doctor?" + +Victor's heart bounded at the suggestion. "Do you think it possible?" he +asked, excitedly. + +Sill remained unmoved. "She does not respond to any test, I'm sorry to +say. Life is extinct." + +The entrance of Doctor Eberly, a tall, stooping man with deep-set eyes +and a sad, worn face, cut short this explanation. Eberly was Mrs. +Joyce's family physician, and taking him aside she presented the case. + +Eberly knew Doctor Sill, and together they returned to Mrs. Ollnee's +bedside while Mrs. Joyce kept Victor as far away from their examination +as possible. + +"There have been many cases of this deep trance, Victor, and we must not +permit the coroner to come till we are absolutely convinced that your +mother has gone out never to return." + +"She must come back," he cried, huskily. "She did so much for me. I want +to do something for her." + +"You did a great deal for her, my dear boy. It was a great joy and +comfort to her to see you growing into manhood. She was a little afraid +of you, but she worshiped you all the same. Your letters were an ecstasy +to her." + +"And I wrote so seldom," he groaned. "I was so busy with my games, my +studies, I hardly thought of her. If she will only come back to me I +will give up everything for her." + +"She understood you, Victor. She was a wonderful little woman, lovely in +her serene, high thought. She lived on a lofty plane." + +"I begin to see that," he answered, contritely. "I understand her better +now." + +The kindly Mrs. Bowers had slipped away back to her household below, and +the men of science were still deep in a low-toned, deliberate +discussion, so that Victor and the woman he now knew to be his best +friend were left to confront each other in mutual study. He was +wondering at her interest in him, and she was weighing his grief and +remorse, thinking enviously of his youth and bodily perfection. "I wish +you were my son," she uttered, wistfully. + +Doctor Eberly again approached, walking in that quaint, sidewise fashion +which had made him the subject of jocose remark among his pupils at the +medical school. + +Mrs. Joyce was instant in inquiry. "How is she, Doctor?" + +"Life is extinct," he replied, with fateful precision. + +"Are you sure?" she demanded. + +"Reasonably so. One is never sure of anything that concerns the human +organism," he replied, wearily. + +She warned him: "You must remember she was accustomed to these trances." + +"So I understand. Nevertheless, this is something more than trance. So +far as I can determine, this body is without a tenant." + +"The tenant may come back," she insisted. + +He looked away. "I know your faith, but I am quite sure all is over. +_Rigor mortis_ has set in." + +She rose emphatically. "I have a feeling that you are both mistaken. Let +me see her. Come, Victor, why do you shrink? It is but her garment lying +there." + +She led the way to the bedside and laid her warm, plump hands on the +pale, thin, cold, and rigid fingers of her friend. She stooped and +peered into the sightless visage. "Lucy, are you present? Can you see +me?" + +Doctor Sill then said: "The eyes alone puzzle me. The pupils are not +precisely--" + +"If there is the slightest doubt--" Mrs. Joyce began. + +"Oh, I didn't mean to convey that, Mrs. Joyce. I was merely giving you +the exact point--" + +"She shall lie precisely as she is till to-morrow," announced Mrs. +Joyce, firmly. "I have an 'impression' that she wishes to have it so. +Will you permit this?" She confronted the two physicians. "Will you wait +till to-morrow before reporting?" + +Doctor Eberly considered a moment. "If you insist, Mrs. Joyce, and if it +is Mr. Ollnee's wish--" + +"Yes, yes," Victor cried, "I've heard of people being buried alive. It +is too horrible to think about! Leave us alone till to-morrow." + +The physicians conferred apart, and at last Eberly turned to say: "It +seems to us a perfectly harmless concession. We will not report the case +till to-morrow. Doctor Sill will call in the morning and decide what +further course to take." + +"Thank you," repeated Mrs. Joyce. + +After the doctors had gone she turned to Victor, saying: "There is +nothing for us to do now but to wait. If Lucy has gone out of her body +forever she will manifest to us here in some familiar way. If she +intends to return she will revive the body and speak from it sometime +between now and dawn." + +"She seems to sleep," he said; and now that his awe and terror were +lessened by his hope, he was able to study her face more exactly. "How +peaceful she seems--and how little she is!" + +"A great soul in a dainty envelope," Mrs. Joyce replied. "Would you mind +taking my car and going to my home to tell Leonora where I am? I wish +also you would bring Mrs. Post, my seamstress, back with you. She's a +good, strong, kindly soul and will be most helpful to-day." + +He consented readily and went away in the car, with the bright spring +sunlight flooding the world, feeling himself snared in an invisible +net. All thought of leaving the city passed out of his mind. He thought +only of his mother and of her possible revivification. "I will fight the +world here if only she will return," he said. + +It seemed years since the ball game of Saturday wherein he had taken +such joyous and honorable part. At that time his universe held no +sorrow, no care, no uncertainty. Now here he sat, plunged deep in +mystery and confusion, face to face with death, penniless, beleaguered, +and alone. + +"What would I do without Mrs. Joyce?" he asked himself. "She is a +wonderful woman." Strange that in a single hour he should come to lean +upon her as upon an elder sister. + +He suddenly remembered that she had probably come away from home without +her breakfast, and that she would find not so much as a crust of bread +in his mother's kitchen, and the thought made him flush with shame. +"What a selfish fool I am," he said, and seized the speaking-tube with +intent to order the chauffeur to turn, but, reflecting that it would +take only a few minutes longer to go on, he dropped the mouth-piece and +the machine whirled steadily forward. + +As he ran up the wide steps Leonora opened the door for him, looking +very alert and capable, her face full of wonder and question. "How is +your mother?" she quickly, tenderly, asked. + +He choked in his reply. "The doctors say she is--dead, but your aunt +insists that it is only a trance." He turned away to hide his tears. "I +am hoping she's right, but I'm afraid that the doctors--" + +"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, her voice tremulous with +sympathy. + +"Yes, if you will please send Mrs. Post, the seamstress, over with me. +We have no one in the house, and Mrs. Joyce needs help." + +"I will go, too," she responded, quickly. "Please be seated while I call +Mrs. Post. Have you had breakfast?" + +"Yes; but Mrs. Joyce has not, and I'm afraid there isn't a thing in our +house to eat." + +"I'll take something over," she replied, and hastened away. + +He did not sit, he could not even compose himself to stand, but walked +up and down the hall like a leopard in its cage. Now and again a +liveried servant passed, glancing at him curiously, but he did not mind. +Mingled with other whirling emotions was a feeling of gratitude toward +Leonora, whose air of conscious superiority had given place, for the +moment, to exquisite gentleness and pity. She soon had the seamstress +and some lunch bestowed in the car. "We are ready, Mr. Ollnee," she +called. + +She said very little during their ride. Occasionally she made some +remark of general significance, or spoke to Mrs. Post upon the duties +which she might expect to meet, and for this reserve Victor was +grateful. She understood him through all his worry. Though he did not +directly study her, he was acutely conscious of her every movement. Her +unruffled precision of action, her calmness, her consideration for his +grief appealed to him as something very womanly and sweet. + +His mother's neighbors had been aroused to a staring heat of interest, +and from almost every window curious faces peered. Victor perceived and +resented their scrutiny, but Leonora seemed not to mind. She alighted +calmly and carried the basket of lunch in her own hands to the stairway, +though she permitted Victor to lead the way. + +Mrs. Joyce met them with a grave smile. "You are prompt. I am glad to +see you, Leo, and you, too, Mrs. Post. We have a long watch before us." + + * * * * * + +It was a singular and absorbing vigil to which Victor and the three +women now set themselves. While Greek and Italian hucksters lamentably +howled through the alleys and the milk-wagons and grocers' carts +clattered up the streets, they waited upon the invisible and listened +for the inaudible--so thin is the line between the prosaic and the +mystic! + +Each minute snap or crackle in the woodwork was to Mrs. Joyce a sign +that the translated spirit was struggling to manifest itself; but the +seamstress, stolid with years of toil and trouble, sat beside the bed +with calm gaze fixed upon the small, clear-cut face half hid in the +pillows, as if it mattered very little to her whether she watched with +the dead or sewed robes of velvet for the living. "It's all in the day's +work," she was accustomed to say. + +Leo, with intent to comfort Victor, told of several notable cases of +"suspension of animation" with which the literature of the Orient is +filled, and Victor took this to be, as she intended it to be, an attempt +to comfort and sustain. + +At times it seemed that he must be dreaming, so unreal was the scene and +so extraordinary was the composure of these women. They had the air of +those who await in infinite calm leisure the certain return of a friend. +Now and again Mrs. Joyce rose and looked down upon the motionless form, +and then perceiving no change resumed her seat. From time to time +intruders mounted the stairs, knocked, and, getting no reply, tramped +noisily down again. + +Victor was all for throwing things in their faces, but Mrs. Joyce +interposed. When he looked from the windows he saw grinning faces turned +upward, and waiting cameras could be seen on the walk opposite, ready to +snap every living thing that entered--or came from--the house. In truth, +Victor and his friends were enduring a state of siege. + +At last Mrs. Joyce said: "Nothing is gained by your staying here, +Victor. Why don't you go for a ride in the park? Leo, take him down to +the South Side Club." + +Victor protested. "I cannot go for a pleasure trip at such a time as +this. It is impossible!" + +She met him squarely. "Victor, death to me is merely a passing from one +plane to another. Besides, I don't think your mother has altogether left +us. But if she has, you can do no good by remaining here. Mrs. Post and +I are quite sufficient. It is a glorious spring day. I beg you to go out +and take the air. It will do you infinite good." + +"If there is nothing I can do here then I ought to resume my search for +work," he replied, sturdily. "Now that I cannot take my mother away with +me, there is nothing for me to do but to find employment here and face +our enemies as best I can." + +She opposed him there also. "Don't do that--not now. Wait. I have a +plan. I'll not go into it now, but when you come back, if there is no +change, we will all go home and I will explain." + +The young people had risen and were starting toward the door when an +imperative, long drawn-out rapping startled them. + +"That's no reporter's rap. There is authority in that," remarked Mrs. +Joyce, as she hurried to the door. + +A very tall man with a long gray beard stood there. "Good-day, madam," +he began, in a husky voice. "I hear that my friend, Mrs. Ollnee, is +sick, and I've come to see about it. I'm her friend these many years and +of her faith, and I think I can be of some assistance." + +Mrs. Joyce dimly remembered having seen him in the house before, so she +replied, very civilly, "Mrs. Ollnee lies in what seems to be deep +trance, although the doctors say that life is extinct." + +"Will you let me see her?" he inquired. "I know a great deal about these +conditions. My daughter was subject to them." + +"You may come in," she said, for his manner was gentle. "This is her +son, Victor." + +Victor was vexed by the stranger's intrusion, but could not gainsay Mrs. +Joyce. + +"My name is Beebe, Doctor Beebe," he explained. "Mrs. Ollnee has given +me many a consoling message, and I believe I've been of help to her. +You're her son, eh?" + +"I am," replied Victor, shortly. + +"You were the vein of her heart," the old man solemnly assured him. "Her +guides were forever talking of you. And now may I see her?" + +Mrs. Joyce, after a moment's hesitation, led him to the door of the room +and stood aside for him to enter. After looking down into the silent +face for a long time he asked, in stately fashion, "May I make momentary +examination of the body?" + +Mrs. Joyce glanced at Victor. "I see no objection to your feeling for +her pulse or listening for her breath." + +"I wish to lift her eyelids," he explained. + +"You must not touch her!" Victor broke forth. "Two doctors have examined +her already. Why should you?" + +"Because I, too, am one of the mystic order. I am a healer. Life's +mysteries are as an open book to me." + +As he spoke a folded paper appeared to develop out of thin air above the +bed, and fell gently upon the coverlet. + +Mrs. Joyce started. "Where did that come from?" + +The healer smiled. "From the fourth dimension." Calmly taking up the +folded paper, he opened it. "This is a message to you, young man." + +"To me?" Victor exclaimed. "From whom?" + +"It is signed 'Nelson.'" + +"Let me see it!" demanded Mrs. Joyce. + +"What does it say?" asked Victor. + +Mrs. Joyce handed it to him. "Read it for yourself. It is from your +grandfather." + +He read: "_Your mother is with us, but she will return to you for a +little while. Her work is not yet ended. Your stubborn neck must bow. +There is a great mission for you, but you must acquire wisdom. Learn +that your plans are nothing, your strength puny, your pride pitiful. We +love you, but we must chastise you. Do not attempt to leave the city._ + + "_NELSON._" + +As he stood reading this letter it seemed to Victor that a cold wind +blew upon him from the direction of his mother's body, and his blood +chilled. "This is some of your jugglery," he said, turning angrily upon +Beebe. + +"I assure you, no," replied the healer, quietly. "It came from behind +the veil. It is a veritable message from the shadow world. I may have +had something to do with its precipitation, for I, too, am psychic, but +not in any material way did I aid the guide." + +The whole affair seemed to Victor a piece of chicanery on the part of +this intruder, and he bluntly said: "I wish you'd go. You can do no good +here. You have no business here." + +Beebe seemed not to take offense. "It's natural in you young fellows to +believe only in the world of business and pleasure, but you'll be taught +the pettiness and uselessness of all that. Your guides have a work for +you to do, and the sooner you surrender to their will the better. You +are fighting an invisible but overwhelming power." + +He addressed Mrs. Joyce. "This message is conclusive. Mrs. Ollnee, our +divine instrument, has not abandoned the body. Her spirit will return to +its envelope soon." He turned back to Victor. "As for you, young sir, +there is warfare and much sorrow before you. Good-day." And with lofty +wafture of the hand he took himself from the room. + +Not till he had passed entirely out of hearing did Victor speak, then he +burst forth. "The old fraud! I wonder how many more such visitors we are +to have? I wish we could take her away from this place." + +"We might take her to my house," said Mrs. Joyce, "but I would not dare +to do so without the consent of the doctors." + +"Did you see how that man produced that message?" + +Leo replied, "It developed right out of the air." + +"It was a direct materialization," confessed Mrs. Joyce. "My own feeling +is that your grandfather sent it to assure us of your mother's return." + +Victor silently confronted them, his anxiety lost in wonder. He had been +told spiritualists were an uneducated lot, and to have these cultured +and intelligent women calmly express their acceptance of a fact so +destructive of all the laws of matter as this folded note, blinded him. +He shifted the conversation. "Isn't it horrible that I should be here +without a dollar and without a single relative? I don't even know that I +have a relation in the world. My mother told me that she had a brother +somewhere in the West, but I don't think she ever gave me his address. +There must be aunts or uncles somewhere in the East, but I have never +heard from them. It seems as though she had kept me purposely ignorant +of her family. You've been very good and kind to me, Mrs. Joyce, but I +can't ask anything more of you. I can't ask you to stay here in this +gloomy little hole. Please go home. I'll fight it out here some way +alone." + +"My dear boy," said Mrs. Joyce, "I insist on staying. I cannot leave +Lucy in her present condition, and I refuse to leave you alone. She is +coming back to you soon, and then we will plan for the future. As for +the message, you will do well to take its word to heart. It is plainly a +warning that you must not leave the city." + +"But, Mrs. Joyce, think what it involves to believe that that letter +dropped out of the air!" + +"The world has grown very vast and very mysterious to me," she solemnly +responded. "I've had even more wonderful things than that take place in +my own home." + +Mrs. Joyce saw that to go would be best, at least for the time, and +together she and Leo went down the stairway and out into the street, +leaving the stubborn youth to confront his problem alone with the +phlegmatic Mrs. Post. + + + + +VII + +THE RETURN OF THE SPIRIT + + +Youth is surrounded by mystery--nothing but magic touches him; but it is +a beautiful, natural, hopeful magic. The mists of morning rise +unaccountably, the rains of autumn fall without cause. The lightning, +the snows, the grasses appear and vanish before the child's eyes like +magical conjurations, until at last, for the most part, he accepts these +miracles as commonplace because they happen regularly and often. In a +world that is incomprehensible to the greatest philosopher, the lad of +twenty comes and goes unmoved by the essential irresolvability of +matter. + +So it had been with Victor. Under instruction he had come to speak of +electricity as a fluid, of steel as a metal, as though calling them by +these names explained them. He discussed the ether, calmly considering +it a sort of finely attenuated jelly, something which quivered to every +blow and was capable of transmitting motion instantaneously. Sound, +heat, and light were modes of motion, he had been told, and these words +satisfied him. Food taken into the body produced power, and this power +was transmitted from the stomach to the brain, and from the brain to the +muscles, and so the limbs were moved. But just how the meat and potatoes +got finally from the brain to the nerves and so into the swing of a +baseball bat did not trouble him. Why should it? + +Life and age were mere words. Death he had heard described by clergymen +as something to be prepared for, a dark and dismal event reserved for +old people, but which did occasionally catch a man in his arrogant +youth, generally in the midst of his sins. Life meant having a good +time, a succeeding in sport, business, or love. Of course certain +philosophic phrases like "continuous adjustment of the organism to the +environment" and "the change of the organism from the simple to the +complex" had stuck in his mind. But any real thought as to what these +changes actually meant had been put aside quite properly, for the +pastimes and ambitions of the student to whom study is an incidental +price for a joyous hour at play. + +But now, here in this room, beside the motionless body of his mother, he +began to think. He had a good mind. His father had left him a rich +legacy in his splendid body, but also something mental--latent to this +hour--which produced an irritating impatience with the vague and the +mysterious. He resented the intrusion of an insoluble element into his +thinking. He was repelled by the discovery that his mother was abnormal, +and from the point of view of this "ghost-room" his life at the +university was becoming sweeter, more precious, more normal every hour. + +Then, too, his afternoon of reading at the library had put into his mind +several new and all-powerful conceptions which had germinated there like +the seeds which the Indian "adept" plants in pots of sand, rising, +burgeoning, blossoming on the instant. He knew the names of some of +those men whose words might be counted on the side of his mother's +endowment, for they were famous in physical or moral science, but he had +not known before that they admitted any real belief in the kind of +things which his mother professed to perform. + +The conception that the human soul was (as the ancients believed) a +ponderable, potent entity capable of separating itself from the body, +came to him with overwhelming significance. "If mother still lives," he +said to the nurse, "where is she? What form has she taken?" + +Mrs. Post, in her own way, was capable of expressing herself. "She is +not there. So much we know. Her body is here. It is like a cloak which +she has thrown down. She herself is invisible, but she will return and +take up her body, and then you will see it grow warm again and her eyes +will light up like lamps, and she will rise and speak to you." + +Of course he did not believe this. That her body was a cast-off garment +was easy to comprehend, but that her spirit hovered near and would +re-enter its former habitation was incredible. + +All day he remained there, pacing to and fro, or sitting bent and somber +over his problem. At noon he got a little lunch for himself and for the +nurse. At two o'clock Mrs. Joyce returned to take him for a drive in her +car. But this he again refused. Thereupon she went away, promising to +look in again later in the evening. + +At dusk he stole down into the street to mail a letter to Frensen, +wherein he had written: "I am a good deal of a broken reed to-day, but I +am going to fight. I wish you were here to talk things over with me. I'm +surrounded by people who believe in the supernatural, and I need some +one like yourself to brace me up." + +This was true. He had been thrust into the midst of those who dwelt upon +the amazing and the inexplicable in human life. The city, which had been +to him so vast, so ugly, and so menacing in a material way, now became +mysterious in an entirely different way. He had now a sense of its +infinite drama, its network of purpose. There was some comfort, however, +in the thought that amid these swarms of people his own activities were +inconspicuous. To-morrow he and his mother would be forgotten in some +new sensation. + +The air was delicately fresh and wholesome, and the faces of the girls +he met had singular power to comfort him. The life of the city, sweeping +on multitudinously, refreshed him like the spray of a mighty torrent +foaming amid rocks and shadowed by lofty canyon walls. He returned to his +vigil stronger and better for this momentary communion with the crowd. + +Mrs. Joyce came again at nine and insisted on remaining for the night. +She had quite thrown off her own gloom, being perfectly certain in her +own mind that Lucy Ollnee would return with a marvelous story of her +wanderings "on the other plane." + +She began to make plans for Victor, "subject," she said, "to revision by +your 'guides.'" + +"You've said that before," he retorted, "but I have no 'guides.' I don't +believe in 'guides,' and I don't intend to be ruled by a lot of spooks." + +"Be careful," she warned. "They know your every thought and they may +resent your attitude." + +"Well, let them! What do I care? Suppose, for argument's sake, that +these Voices _do_ come from my father and my grandfather. What do they +know of this great city? They were country folks. How can they direct me +in what I am to do?" + +"They know a great deal better than any of us." + +"But how can they?" + +"Because they are free from the limitations of the flesh." + +"I don't see how that is going to help them. Their minds are just the +same as they were, aren't they?" + +"Indeed no! We grow inconceivably in knowledge and power to discern the +moment we drop the flesh." + +"I don't see why? If they are existing they're in a world so different +from this that their experience here won't help them over there, and +their experience over there is of no value to us here, and even if it +were, they could not express it." + +During their talk the night had deepened into darkness, and now, as they +reached a pause in their discussion, a measured rapping could be heard, +as though some one were striking with a small wand upon the brass rod of +the bed. + +Without knowing exactly why, a thrill very like fear passed over Victor, +but Mrs. Joyce smiled. "They are here! Don't you hear them? They want to +communicate with us." + +The youth's high heart sank. His boyish dread of darkness began to +people this death-chamber with monstrous shadows, with malignant forces. +He was very grateful for the presence of this cheery and undismayed +believer in the spirit world. Without her he would have been +panic-stricken. + +She rose to enter the bedroom, and he followed as far as the threshold. + +It was very dark in there, and for a moment he could see nothing, could +hear nothing. Then a faint whisper made itself distinctly audible just +above his head. "_Victor, my boy_," it said. + +He did not reply for a moment, and Mrs. Joyce eagerly called, "Did you +hear that whisper, Victor?" + +"Yes, I heard it," he replied. + +"It was Lucy. Was it you, Lucy?" asked Mrs. Joyce. + +"_Yes_," came the answer. + +"Are you still out of the body, Lucy?" + +"_Yes._" + +"What shall we do?" + +"_Wait._" + +"Is there anything you want to say to Victor?" + +"_No, not now. Father will speak._" + +Silence again fell, and in this pause Mrs. Joyce took the chair which +stood close beside the bed and motioned Victor to another near the foot. +He sat with thrilling nerves, moved, trembling in spite of himself. The +room was now quite dark, save for a faint patch of light on the ceiling +and another on the carpet. His mother's body could not be distinguished +from the covering of the bed. + +As they waited, a singular, cold, and aromatic breeze began to blow over +the bed from the dark corner, and then a small, brilliant, bluish flame +arose near the sleeper's head, and, floating upward to the ceiling, +vanished silently. It was like the flame of a candle twisted and leaping +in a breeze. + +"The spirit light!" exclaimed Mrs. Joyce, ecstatically. "Wasn't it +beautiful? And see, there is a hand holding it!" she whispered, as +another flame arose. "Can't you see it?" + +"I see the light, but no hand," he replied. + +"I can see more. I see the dim form of an old man outlined on the wall. +It must be your grandsire, Nelson Blodgett. Am I right?" she asked, +apparently of the dark. + +Victor could now perceive a thin, bluish, wavering shape, like a cloud +of cigar smoke, and from this a whisper seemed to come, strong and +clear. "_Yes, I have come to speak to my grandson._" + +"Don't you see him now?" asked Mrs. Joyce. + +"I see nothing," he repeated; and as he spoke the misty shape vanished. + +"But you heard the whisper, did you not?" Mrs. Joyce persisted. + +He did not reply to her, but rose and bent above his mother. "Mother, +did you speak?" he asked. + +Mrs. Joyce excitedly restrained him. "Sit down! You must not touch her +now." + +"Why not?" + +"Because it is very dangerous while the spirits are using her +organism." + +"I don't know what you mean!" he retorted, angrily. "I know that that +voice sounded exactly like my mother's voice, and I want to know--" + +"_Silence, foolish boy!_" was sternly breathed into his ear. + +A cloud passed over the sky, and as the room became perfectly black a +fluttering gray-blue cloud developed out of the darkest corner. It had +the movement of steam-wreaths, with each convolution faintly edged with +light. At one moment it resembled a handful of lines, fine as cobweb, +looping and waving, as if blown upward from below, and the next moment +it floated past like the folds of some exquisite drapery, lifting and +falling in gentle undulations. At last it rose to the height of a man, +drifted across the bed, and there hung poised over the head of the +sleeper. As it swung there for an instant Victor could plainly detect a +man's figure and face. His eyelids were closed and his features vague, +but his chin and the spread of his shoulders were clearly defined. "Who +are you?" Victor demanded, as if the apparition were an intruder. + +The answer came in a flat, toneless voice, neither male nor female in +quality. "_I am your father._" + +Victor leaped up impulsively, his hair on end with fright, and the +apparition vanished precisely as though an open door had been closed +between it and the observer. + +Again Mrs. Joyce clutched him. "Be careful! Sit down; don't stir!" + +"Somebody is playing a joke on me," he insisted, hotly. "I'm going to +strike a light." + +Again a voice, this time almost full-toned, but with a metallic +accompaniment, as though it had passed through a horn, poured into his +ear, "_You shall bow to our wisdom._" + +He braced himself to receive a blow, and answered through his set teeth: +"I will not. I am master of myself, and I don't intend to take orders +from you." + +"_You are fighting great powers. You will fail_," the voice replied. +"_Your heart is defiant. Expect punishment._" + +Victor threw out his left hand in rage. It came into contact with +something in the air, something light and hollow, which fell crashing to +the floor, and a faint, gasping, indrawn breath from the sleeper on the +bed followed it. For an instant all was silent; then Mrs. Joyce cried +out: + +"She has returned! Your mother has returned! Don't strike a light. Wait +a moment." She moved forward a little. "May I touch her?" she asked. + +Victor thought she was speaking to him, but before he could reply the +invisible one whispered: "_Yes. Approach slowly._" + +Mrs. Joyce laid her hand on the sleeper's brow. "She's warmer, Victor! +She's breathing! She has certainly come back to us." + +"_Approach_," whispered the voice in Victor's ear. + +He moved forward now, in awe and wonder, and stood beside the bed. +Slowly the room lightened, and out of the darkness the pallid face of +his mother developed like the shadowy figures on a photographic plate. +She was lying just as before, save for one hand, which Mrs. Joyce had +taken. He laid his own vital, magnetic palm upon her arm, and finding it +still cold and pulseless, called out: + +"Mother, do you hear me? It is Victor." + +Her fingers moved slightly in response, and this minute sign of life +melted his heart. He fell upon his knees beside her bed, weeping with +gratitude and joy. + + + + +VIII + +VICTOR REPAIRS HIS MOTHER'S ALTAR + + +In consenting to the removal of his mother to Mrs. Joyce's home Victor +had no intention of receding from his position. On the contrary, he +considered it merely a temporary measure--for the night, or at most for +a few days. He entered the car, thinking only of her wishes, and when he +watched her sink to sleep in her spacious and luxurious bed under Mrs. +Joyce's generous roof he couldn't but feel relieved at the thought that +she was safe and on the way back to health. It was only when he left her +and went to his own splendid chamber that his nervousness returned. + +Every day, every hour plunged him deeper into debt to these strangers; +and the fact that they were treating him like a young duke was all the +more disturbing. He fancied Carew saying of him, as he had said of +another, "Oh, he's merely one of Mrs. Joyce's pensioners," and the +thought caused him to burn with impatience. + +Nevertheless he slept, and in the morning he forgot his perplexities in +the joy of taking his breakfast with Leonora. He admired her now so +intensely that his own weakness, irresolution, and inactivity seemed +supine. He was impatient to be doing something. His hands and his brain +seemed empty. With no games, no tasks, he was disordered, lost. + +They were alone at the table, these young people, and naturally fell to +discussing Mrs. Ollnee's marvelous return to life. This led him to speak +of his own plans. "My course at Winona fitted me for nothing," he +acknowledged, bitterly. "I should have gone in for something like +mechanical engineering, but I didn't. I had some fool notion of being a +lawyer, and mother, I can see now, was all for having me a preacher of +her faith. So here I am, helpless as a blind kitten." + +It was proof of his essential charm that Leonora not only endured his +renewed harping on this harsh string, but encouraged him to continue. "I +know you chafe," she said. "I had that feeling till I began my course in +cooking, and just to assure myself that I am not entirely useless and +helpless in the world, I'm now going in for a training as a nurse." + +"A nurse!" he exclaimed. "Oh, that explains something." + +"What does it explain?" + +"I wondered how you could be so calm and so efficient yesterday." + +She seemed pleased. "Was I calm and efficient? Well, that's one result +of my study. I can at least keep my head when anything goes wrong." + +"I don't think I like your being a trained nurse," he said. + +She smiled. "Don't you? Why not?" + +"You're too fine for that," he answered, slowly. "You were made to +command, not to serve. You should be the queen of some castle." + +His frankly expressed admiration did not embarrass her. She accepted his +words as if they came from a boy. "Castles are said to be draughty and +dreadfully hard to keep in order, and besides, a queen's retainers are +always getting sick, or killed, or something, so I think I'll keep on +with my training as a nurse." + +"But there must be a whole lot of unpleasant, nasty drudgery about it." + +"Sickness isn't nice, I'll admit, but there is no place in the world +where care and sympathy mean so much." + +"You don't intend to go out and nurse among strangers?" + +"I may." + +"I bet you don't--not for long. Some fellow will come along and say 'No +more of that,' and then you'll stay home." + +"What sort of fiction do you read?" she asked, with the air of an older +sister. + +"The truthful sort. Your nursing is nothing but a fad." + +"What a wise old gray-beard you are!" + +He was nettled. "You need not take that superior tone with me. I'm two +years older than you are." + +"And ten years wiser, I suppose you would declare if you dared." + +"I didn't say that." + +"No; your tone was enough. I admit you know a great deal more about +baseball than I do." + +He winced. "That was a side-winder, all right. If I knew as much about +the carpenter's trade or the sale of dry goods as I do about 'the +national game' I'd stand a chance of earning my board." + +"Why not join the league?" she suggested. "They pay good wages, I +believe." + +He took this seriously. "I thought of that, but even if I could get into +a league team, which is hardly probable, it wouldn't lead anywhere. You +see, I'm getting up an ambition. I want to be rich and powerful." + +"Football players have always been my adoration," she responded, +heartily. "You'd look splendid in harness. Why don't you go in for +that?" + +"You may laugh at me now," he replied, bluntly. "But give me ten +years--" + +"Mercy, I'll be too old to admire even a football captain by that time." + +"You'll be only thirty-one." + +She sobered a little. "Men have the advantage. You will be young at +thirty-three, and I'll be--well, a matron. No, I'm afraid I can't wait +that long. I must find my admirable short-stop or half-back, whichever +he is to be, long before that." + +He changed his tone and appealed to her seriously. "Really now, what can +I do? So long as this persecution of my mother keeps up I'm in for a +share of it. I can't run away, for I promised I wouldn't. So I remain, +like a turkey with a string to his leg, walking round and round my +little stake. What would you do in my place? Come now, be good and tell +me." + +She responded to his appeal. "Don't be impatient. That's the first +thing. Be resigned to this luxury for a few days. The Voices will tell +you what to do. They may be planning a surprise for you." + +"All I ask of them is to quit the job and let me plan things for +myself," he slowly protested. + +The entrance of Mrs. Wood, senior, ended their dialogue, and he went +away with a sense of having failed to win Leo's respect and confidence, +as he had hoped to do. "She considers me a kid," he muttered, +discontentedly. "But she will change her mind one of these days." + +He spent the morning with his mother, but toward noon he grew restless +and went down into the library, wherein he had observed several bound +volumes of the report of The Psychical Society. He fell to reading a +long article upon "multiple personality," and followed this by the close +study of an essay on hysteria, and when Mrs. Joyce called him to lunch +he was like a man awakened from deep sleep. These articles, filled with +new and bewildering conceptions of the human organism, were after all +entirely materialistic in their outcome. Personality was not a unit, but +a combination, and the whole discussion served but to throw him into +mental confusion and dismay. + +At lunch Mrs. Joyce proposed that they all take an automobile ride round +the city and end up with a dinner at the Club; and seeing no chance for +doing anything along the line of securing employment, Victor consented +to the expedition. + +The weather was glorious, and the troubled youth's brain cleared as if +the sweet, cool, lake wind had swept away the miasma which his +experience of the darker side of the city had placed there. He +surrendered himself to the pleasure, the luxury of it recklessly. How +could he continue to brood over his future with a lovely girl by his +side and a sweet and tender spring landscape unrolling before him? + +They fairly belted the city in their run, and in the end, as they went +sweeping down the curving driveway of the lake, Mrs. Ollnee's face was +delicately pink and her eyes were bright with happiness. To her son she +seemed once more the lovely and delicate figure of his boyhood's +admiration. It seemed that her death-like trance had been a horrible +dream. + +The ride, the club-house, the dinner, were all luxurious to the point of +bewilderment to Victor, but he did not betray his uneasiness. He was +only a little more silent, a little more meditative, as he took his +place at the finely decorated table in the pavilion which faced upon the +water. He determined (for the day at least) to accept everything that +came his way. This recklessness completely dominated him as he looked +across the board at Leonora, so radiant with health and youth. + +No one would have detected anything morbid in Mrs. Ollnee. She was +prettily dressed and not in the least abnormal, and Victor was proud of +her, even though he knew that her dresses were earned by a sort of +necromancy. + +Mrs. Joyce carefully avoided any discussion of his problem, and the +dinner ended as joyfully at it began. They rode home afterward, under +the bright half moon, silent for very pleasure in the beautiful night. + +The park was full of loiterers, two and two, and on the benches under +the trees others sat, two and two together. It was mating-time for all +the world, and Victor's blood was astir as he turned toward the stately +girl whose face had driven out all others as the moon drowns out the +stars. His audacity of the morning was gone, however. He looked at her +now with a certain humble appeal. His subjugation had begun. + +At the house they all lingered for an hour on the back porch, which +looked out upon a little formal garden. Two slender trees stood there, +and their silken rustling filled in the pauses of the conversation like +the conferring voices of a distant multitude of infant seraphim. + +"Those must be cottonwoods," Victor remarked. + +"They are," replied Mrs. Joyce. "I love them. When I was a child I used +to visit a farm-house in whose yard were two tall trees of this sort, +and their murmur always filled me with mystical delight. I used to lie +in the grass under them, hour by hour, trying to imagine what they were +saying to me. Ever since I had a place of my own I've had +cottonwood-trees in my yard. I know they're a nuisance with their fuzz, +but I love their rustling." + +As she paused, the leaves uttered a pleased murmur, and Victor, +listening with a new sense of the sentiment which his hostess concealed +in a plump and unimposing form, thought he heard a sibilant whispered +word in his car. "Victor," it said, "I love you." + +He turned quickly toward his mother, but she seemed not to be listening, +and a moment later she spoke to Mrs. Joyce, uttering some pleasant +commonplace about the night. + +This whisper was so clear, so unmistakable, that Victor could not doubt +its reality. The question was which of the women had spoken it. He had a +foolish wish to believe that Leo had uttered it. He listened again, but +heard nothing. + +As he was helping his mother slowly up the stairs to her room, he said: +"This is all very beautiful, mother, but I can't enjoy it as I ought. I +feel like a fraud every time I see Mrs. Joyce handing out one of those +big bills. I suppose she can afford it, but I can't. We must get back to +the old place, or to some new place, and live on our own resources." + +"We can't do that till morning, dear. Let us wait until The Voices +speak. They have been silent to-day. Perhaps they will advise us +to-morrow." + +Here was the place to tell her of the whispers he had heard, but he +could not bring himself to do so. + +She went on: "I wish you would repair my table, your grandfather's +table, as you promised, Victor. I don't know why, but it helps me. But +you must be careful not to use any metal about it." + +"Why not?" + +"Oh, that's another one of the mysteries. They seem to object to metal." + +"Well, I'll get at it to-morrow," he said, and kissing her good-night, +went to his own room. + +He was awake and dressed before six the next morning, and leaving a +note for Mrs. Joyce, set out for California Avenue. On the way he +dropped into a cheap cafe and got a breakfast which cost him twenty +cents. He enjoyed this keenly, because, as he said, it was in his class +and was paid for out of the money his mother had given him for his +trophy. + +All was quiet at the flat, and setting to work on the table with glue +and stout cord, he soon had it on its legs. Looking down upon it as a +completed job, he marveled at the reverence which his mother seemed to +have for it, and his mind reverted to the astounding phenomena which he +himself had witnessed over its top. + +Picking up one of the folded slates, he opened it with intent to see if +it held any hidden springs or false surfaces. Out fluttered a folded +paper. This he snatched up and studied with interest. It was a peculiar +sort of parchment, veined like a bit of corn-husk, and on it, written in +delicate and beautiful script, were these words: "_Go to Room 70, +Harwood Bldg., to-day. Danger threatens. Altair._" + +"I wonder who Altair is," he mused, staring at the bit of paper, "and +what is the danger that threatens?" + +While still he stood debating whether to go down-town or to warn his +mother, a heavy step on the stairs announced a visitor. The man (for it +was plainly the tread of a man, and a fat man) knocked on the door, but +did not pause for reply. "Are you there, Lucy?" he called, and came in. + +Victor faced him with instant resentment of this familiarity. "Who are +you? What do you want here?" he demanded. + +The other, a tall, clumsy, broad-faced individual in costly clothing, +seemed surprised and a little alarmed. "I came to see Mrs. Ollnee," he +explained. "Who are you?" + +"I am her son--and I want to know how you dare to push into my mother's +house like this!" + +"My name is Pettus," he answered, pacifically. "No doubt you've heard +your mother speak of me." + +"Oh yes," responded the youth. "I heard Mr. Carew speak of you. You're +president of that Transportation Company they're all so wild about." + +A shade of apprehension passed over Pettus's fat, ugly face. "Carew! +You've seen him? I suppose he gave me a bad name? But never mind--where +will I find your mother?" + +Victor didn't like the man, and he remained silent till Pettus repeated +his question, then he answered, "I can't tell you where my mother is." + +"You mean you won't!" + +"Well, yes, that's what I do mean." + +Pettus turned away. "I can find her without your aid." + +"What do you want with her?" + +"I want a sitting at once!" + +"You keep away from her!" Victor blazed out. "I don't want her sitting +for you. She's mixed up too deeply in your affairs already. Carew +said--" + +"I don't care what Carew said--and I don't care whether you approve of +your mother's sitting for me or not. Her controls will decide that +question." + +He tramped out and down the stairway, and from the window Victor saw him +whirl away in his automobile. "That man's a scoundrel and a slob," he +said; "a greasy old slob. I will not have my mother sitting for such +people. Can't I head him off somehow?" + +With sudden resolution he ran down the stairway and over to the +telephone booth on the corner. He got the butler at once, and was deeply +relieved to find that his mother was out with Mrs. Joyce. "He can't see +her before I do," he concluded, as he hung up the receiver. "I'll go +over there and wait for her to return." + +As he neared the house he met Leo coming out with some letters in her +hand, and with the swift resiliency of youth, he asked if he might not +walk with her. + +"Certainly," she said; "I want to talk with you about your plans." + +"I haven't any plans," he said. + +"What have you been doing this morning?" + +He hesitated a moment, then answered: "I've been mending that old +table--I suppose you heard about my smashing it?" + +"Yes; and it seemed a very childish thing to do." + +"If you knew how I hate that business and everything connected with it!" + +"I do, and it seems absurd to me. Your mother's life is very wonderful +and very beautiful to me." + +He changed the subject. "Did that man Pettus call just now?" + +"Yes." + +"He's a scoundrel--that chap. A four-flusher." + +"What makes you think that?" + +"Well, the very looks of the man." + +She laughed. "He isn't pretty, but he's a very decent citizen--and has a +lovely wife and two daughters." + +"He's a slob--his face gives him away--and besides, Mr. Carew the other +night--" + +"I know," she interrupted; "Mr. Carew is sure we're all going to be +ruined by your mother and the Universal Transportation Company." + +"I hope you haven't put your money into anything Pettus has control of?" + +"Oh, don't let's talk business on a morning like this. It's +criminal--let's talk about trees and birds and flowers." She might have +added "and love," for when youth and springtime meet, even on a city +boulevard, love is the most important subject in the encyclopedia of +life. So they walked and talked and jested in the way of young men and +maidens, and Victor talked of himself, finding his life-history vastly +absorbing when discussed by a tall girl with a splendid profile and a +cultivated voice. He watched her buy her stamps at the drug-store, +finding in her every movement something adorable. The poise of her bust +and her fine head appealed to him with power; but her humor, her cool, +clear gaze, checked the crude compliments which he was moved to utter. +She could not be addressed as he had been accustomed to address his girl +classmates at Winona. + +This walk completed the severance of the ties which bound him to the +university. His desire to return to his games weakened. His ambition to +shine as an athlete faded. He wished to prove to this proud girl that he +was neither boy nor dreamer, and that he was competent to take care of +himself and his mother as well. + +As they were re-entering the house, he said: "Don't utter a word of what +I've told you. I'm going to test whether my mother has the power to read +my mind or not." + +"I understand," she returned, "and I'm glad you're going to share in our +seance to-night." + +He frowned. "Don't say 'seance.' I hate that word." + +She laughed. "Aren't you fierce! But I'll respect your prejudices so far +as an utterly unprejudiced person can." + +"Do you call yourself an unprejudiced person?" + +"I try to be." + +"But you're not. You have a prejudice against me," he insisted, forcing +the personal note. + +"Oh, you're quite mistaken," she replied; "in fact I think you're rather +nice--for a boy." And she went away, leaving him to fume under this +indignity. + +Mrs. Joyce and Mrs. Ollnee came in soon afterward, and they all took tea +together quite as casually as if they were not on the edge of something +very thrilling and profoundly mysterious. Mrs. Joyce politely asked +Victor what he had been doing, but his answers were evasive. He made no +mention of Pettus, though he was burning with desire to warn her against +him. + +Soon afterward they went to his mother's room, and once safely inside +the door he turned upon her. "Mother, are you going to sit for Pettus +to-night?" + +"I expect him, but I'm not sitting for him specially." + +"I won't have him in the circle! He is a slimy old beast. I hate +him--and Mr. Carew warned us against him. He wasn't guessing, mother, he +_knows_ that this old four-flusher is up to some deviltry. How did he +find you?" + +"He called us up." + +"I simply will not have him sit with you again, and you must not advise +any one to put a cent into his concern. Where are you going to have this +performance?" + +"I thought of sitting here, but I need the old table. You mended it, +didn't you?" + +"Yes, I mended it." + +"And you had a message from _Altair_?" + +"How did you learn that?" + +"I felt it," she answered, gravely. "She said danger threatened--did she +tell you what the danger was?" + +"No; who is _Altair_ supposed to be?" + +"She is a very pure and high spirit--a girl of wonderful beauty--so they +say. I have never seen her myself--she told me to-day that she would +watch over you." + +At this moment a whisper was heard in the air just above her head. + +"_Lucy!_" + +"Yes, father." + +"_Take the boy--sit--the old place. Leave Pettus out._" + +"Yes, father." + +"_I will be there. Pettus is under investigation._" + +"Much obliged," said Victor; and then he heard close to his ear a faint +whisper: "_Victor, you shall see me--Altair._" + +He was staring straight at his mother's lips at the moment, and yet he +was unable to detect any visible part in the production of the voice. +She explained the whisper. "Altair is smiling at you. She says she will +be with us to-night." + +All this was very shocking to Victor. Utterly disconcerted and unable to +confront her at the moment, he left the room. The whole problem of her +mental condition, the central kernel of her philosophy was involved in +that one whisper. To solve that was to solve it all. It was not so much +a question of how she did it, it was a question of her right to deceive +him. + +He seized the time between tea and dinner to return to the library. For +an hour he dug into the spongy soil of metaphysics, and it happened that +he fell at last upon the Crookes and Zollner experiments (quoted at +greater length in a volume of collected experience) and found there +clear and direct testimony as to the mind's mastery of matter. There was +abundant evidence of the handling of fire by the medium Home, and +Slade's ability to float in the air was attested by well-known +witnesses, but beyond this and closer to his own day, he came upon a +detailed study of an Italian psychic with her "supernumerary hands," a +story which should have made the materialization of a letter seem very +simple. But it did not. All the testimony of these great men, abundant +as it was, slid from his mind as harmlessly as water from oiled silk. +Apparently, it failed to alter the texture of his thought in the +slightest degree. His world was the world of youth, the good old +wholesome, stable world, and he refused to be convinced. + +At dinner he was angered, in spite of Leo's presence, by his mother's +returning confidence and ease of manner. His own position had been +weakened, he felt, by his acquiescence in the sitting. His desire to +satisfy himself, to solve his mother's mystery, had led him to abandon +his stern resolution--and he regretted it. He ate sparingly and took no +wine, being resolved to retain a perfectly clear head for the evening's +experiment. He was grateful to Leo for keeping the talk on subjects of +general interest, even though he had little part in it, and his liking +for her deepened. + +As he neared the test he began to sharply realize that for the first +time in all his life he was about to take part in one of his mother's +hated "performances," and his breath was troubled by the excitement of +it. "I will make this test conclusive," he said to himself, and his jaw +squared. "There will be no nonsense to-night." + +The papers of the day had remained free from any further allusion to +"the Spiritual Blood-Suckers," and it really seemed as if the cloud +might be lifting, and this consideration made his participation in the +sitting all the more like a return to a lower and less defensible +position. He was irritated by the methodical action with which his +mother proceeded to set the stage for her farce. Wood, who seemed quite +at home, assisted in these preparations, leaving Victor leaning in +sullen silence against the wall. + +Mrs. Joyce took a seat directly opposite the little psychic, Wood sat at +her left, while Victor, with Leo at his right, completed the little +crescent. Mrs. Ollnee, with her small, battered table before her, faced +them across its top. Victor made no objection to this arrangement, but +kept an alert eye on every movement. He watched her closely. She first +breathed into one of the horns and put it beside her, then held one of +the slates between her palms for a little time. "I hope this will be +illuminated to-night," she said. + +This remark gave Victor a twinge of disgust and bewildered pain. "She is +too little and sweet and fine to be the high priest of such jugglery," +he thought, but did not cease his watchful attention, even for an +instant. + +The locking of the door, the turning out of the light and the taking +hands in the good old traditional way all irritated and well-nigh +estranged him. Why should his life be thrown into the midst of such +cheap and ill-odored drama? "This shall never happen again," he vowed, +beneath his breath. + +There was not much talk during the first half-hour, for the reason that +Victor was too self-accusing to talk, and the others were too solemn and +too eager for results to enter upon general conversation. For the most +part, they spoke in low voices and waited and listened. + +The first indication of anything unusual, aside from the tapping, was a +breeze, a deathly cold wind, which began to blow faintly over the table +from his mother, bearing a peculiar perfume (an odor like that from +some Oriental rug), which grew in power till each of the sitters +remarked upon it. This current of air continued so long and so +uninterruptedly that Victor began to wonder. Could it be his mother's +breath? If she were not fraudulently producing it, then it must be that +some window had been opened. The network of her deceit--if it was +deceit--thickened. + +Mrs. Joyce then said, in a low voice: "We are to have celestial visitors +to-night. That is the wind which accompanies the astral forms." + +"Yes," said Leo, "and that perfume always accompanies Altair. Are we to +see Altair?" she softly asked. + +A sibilant whisper replied, "_Yes, soon._" + +A moment later, another and distinctly different voice called softly, +"_My son._" + +"Who is it?" asked Victor. + +"_Your father._" + +"What have you to say to me?" + +"_The power of the mind is limitless_," the whispered voice replied. +"_Matter, the strongest steel, is but a form of motion._" + +"What is all that to me?" asked Victor. + +"_As you think so you will be. Be strong and constant._" + +The vagueness of all this increased Victor's irritation. "What about +Pettus?" + +The voice hesitated, weakened a little. "_I can't tell--not now--I will +ask._" + +What followed did not come clearly and consecutively to Victor, for Mrs. +Joyce (who was expert in hearing and reporting the whispers) repeated +each sentence or the substance of it to him. But he himself heard a +considerable part of it. In the very midst of a sentence the voice +stopped. It was as if a wire had been cut, or the receiver hung up; the +silence was like death itself. + +Victor called out to his mother: "Can you hear The Voices, mother? They +seem to come from where you are." + +She did not reply, and Mrs. Joyce explained. "She is gone." + +Again the cold breeze set in, with a strong, steady swell, and with it +was borne a low, humming note, which grew in volume and depth till it +resembled the roaring rush of a November blast through the branches of +an oak. It became awesome at last, with its majesty of moaning song, and +saddening with its somber suggestion of autumn and of death. It opened +the shabby little room upon an empty and limitless space, upon an +infinite and vacant and obscure desert wherein night and storms +contended. It died away at last, leaving the air chill and pulseless, +and the chamber darker than before. + +Before any comment could be made upon this astounding phenomenon, Victor +perceived a faint glow of phosphorus upon the table. It increased in +brilliancy till it presented a clear-cut square of some greenish +glowing substance, and then a large hand in a ruffled sleeve appeared +above it as if in the act of writing. + +"It is Watts," whispered Leo. "He is writing for us." + +Bending forward, Victor was able to read this message outlined in dark +script on the glowing surface of what seemed to be the slate: "_The +dreams of to-day are the realities of to-morrow._" These words faded and +again the shadowy hand swept over the table, and this companion sentence +followed: "_The realities of to-day will be but the half-truths or the +gross errors of the future._ + + "_WATTS._" + +Victor was strongly tempted to clutch this hand, but fear of something +unpleasant prevented him from doing so. He was sick with apprehension, +with dread of what might happen next. A feeling of guilt, of remorse, +came upon him. "I am to blame for this!" he thought, and was on the +point of rising and calling for the lights, when something happened +which changed not merely his feeling at the moment, but the whole course +of his life, so incredible, so destructive of all physical laws, of all +his scientific training was the phenomenon. A hand, large and shapely, +took up the glowing slate and held it like a lamp to his mother's face, +so that all might see her. She sat with hands outspread upon the table, +her head thrown back, her eyes closed. Her arms extended in rigid lines. +It seemed that the invisible ones desired to prove to Victor that his +mother could not and was not holding the slate. + +Swift as light the glowing mirror disappeared, and then, as if through a +window opened in the air before his eyes, Victor perceived a strange +face confronting him, the face of a girl with deep and tender eyes, +incredibly beautiful. Her eyes were in shadow, but the pure oval of her +cheeks, the dainty grace of her chin, the broad, full brow and something +ineffably pure in the faintly happy smile, stopped his breath with awe. +He forgot his mother, his problems, his doubts, in study of the +unearthly beauty of this vision. + +Mrs. Joyce whispered in ecstasy, "It is Altair!" + +The angelic lips parted, and a low voice, so gentle it was like the +murmur of a leaf, replied, "_Yes, it is Altair._" And to Victor her +voice was of exquisite delicacy. "_Believe, be faithful._" + +No one breathed. It was as if they had been permitted to gaze upon one +of heaven's angelic choir. How came she there? Who was she? Before these +questions could be framed she disappeared, silently as a bubble on the +water, leaving behind only that delicious, subtle, unaccountable odor as +of tropic fruits and unknown flowers. + +Leo, breathing a sigh of sad ecstasy, exclaimed: "Is she not beautiful? +Never has she shown herself more glorious than to-night." + +Victor was like one drugged and dreaming. There was no question of his +mother's honesty in his mind. He did not relate the vision to her, and +he winced with pain as Leo spoke. He wished to recall the face, to hear +that whisper again. The effect upon him was enormous, instant, +unfolding. In all his life nothing mystic, nothing to disturb or rouse +his imagination had hitherto come to him, and now this transcendent +marvel, this face born of the invisible and intangible essence of the +air, beat down his self-assurance and destroyed his smug conception of +the universe. He lost sight of his hypothesis and accepted Altair for +what she seemed, a gloriously beautiful soul of another world, a world +of purity and light and love. + +He remained silent as Mrs. Joyce rose and went to his mother. He was +still in his seat when they turned up the lights. Leo spoke to him, but +he did not answer. Strange transformation! At the moment her voice +jarred upon him. She seemed commonplace, prosaic, in contrast with the +woman who had looked upon him from the luminous shadow. + +Gradually the walls he hated, the entangling relationship he feared, +returned upon him; and though he realized something of the revealing +character of his reticence, he had not the will to break it. He watched +his mother return to her normal self with such detachment that she at +last became aware of it and lifted her feeble hands in search of him. +"Victor, come to me!" she pleaded. + +He went to her then, still in a daze, and to her question, "Did your +father come?" he replied, brokenly, "A voice came, but I can't talk +about that now--I must go out into the air." + +All perceived the tumult--the strange psychic condition into which he +had been thrown, and were considerate enough to refrain from pressing +him with inquiry. "He has been touched by 'the power,'" whispered Mrs. +Joyce to Leo. "He's under conviction." + +The cool, clear air and the material rush of the city throbbing in upon +his brain restored the youth to something like his normal self; but he +remained silent and distraught all the way home. + +As they entered the hall Leo glanced at his face with unsmiling, +penetrating intensity, and in that moment perceived that Victor the boy +had given place to Victor the man. She experienced a swift change of +relationship, and a pang of jealousy shot through her heart. She +realized that the wondrous spirit face was the power that had so wrought +upon and transformed him. She, too, had thrilled to the mystical beauty +of the phantom, and she had read in the tremulous lips the hesitating +whisper, a love for the young mortal, which had troubled her at the +moment, and which became more serious to her now. + +They said good-night as strangers; he absorbed, absent-minded; she +resentful and a little hurt. + +To his mother, when they were alone in her room, he said, +haltingly: "Mother, you must forgive me. I thought you did those +things--unconsciously cheating--but now--I--give it up. I believe in you +absolutely." + +She raised her eyes to his wet with happy tears. "My son! My splendid +boy!" she said, and in her voice was song. + + + + +IX + +THE LAW'S DELAY + + +"Belief," says the wise man, "is not a matter of evidence; it is a habit +of mind." And notwithstanding his confession of inward transformation, +Victor found doubt still hidden deep in his brain when he woke the +following morning. His conviction had been temporary. + +In his musing upon Altair he began to remember some very curious +details. He recalled that at first glance he had inwardly exclaimed, +"How much she looks like Leo!" The lips and chin were similar, only +sadder, sweeter--and the poise of the head was like hers also. But the +brow and the eyes were more like his mother's. It was as though Altair +were at once the heavenly sister of Leonora and the spirit daughter of +his mother, and the love which lay on the tremulous lips, the deep, +serious eyes, moved him still with almost undiminished power. He was +eager to see the celestial face again. + +He was less clear about his own physical condition at the time. He +remembered feeling weak and chilled, as though some of his own vitality +had gone out of his blood in the attempt to warm that unaccountable +being into life. He recalled his parting with his mother as if it were +the incident in a painful dream. It was all impossible, incredible, and +yet--it happened! + +His morning mood was eager and searching. He was quite ready to see Leo, +ready to talk with her of all that had taken place. Hitherto he had +avoided any detailed story of his mother's evocations, but now he was +violently curious to know whether or no she had ever performed these +particular rites before. He wished to hear all that Leo had to say, and +he was deeply disappointed when neither she nor his hostess appeared at +the breakfast table. + +He finished his meal hurriedly (as soon as it became evident that he was +to be alone), and instead of going down-town returned to the library to +re-read the famous story of Sir William Crookes and "Katie King"--every +word of which had acquired new meaning to him. He thrilled now to the +calm, bald narrative, reading between the lines the inner story of the +great scientist's bewildered love for the stainless vision which he had +evoked but could not endow with lasting life. + +The boy dwelt upon the scene of their parting with peculiar pain, +perceiving in it new pathos. A throb of sorrow came into his throat. Was +Altair but a transitory flower of the dark--aloof, intangible, and sad? +What meant the wistful sweetness of her smile? Was she unhappy in the +icy realms from which she came? Did she long for human companionship? +Would she come again? He found himself longing for the night and another +sitting with his mother. He felt vaguely the disappointment which comes +to those who listen to the messages of these celestial apparitions, so +commonplace, so vaporous, so inane. "Katie King," surpassing all earthly +women in her physical loveliness, brought no sentence of intellectual +distinction from the mysterious void which was her home. + +In the midst of this astounding narrative he heard Leo's voice in the +hall, and with a guilty start put his book away and rose to meet her, +remembering that he had not treated her very well after the sitting, +though he could not recall the precise reason for it. Gradually her +step, the sound of her voice, reasserted their charm, and he returned to +the breakfast-room like a boy who has been sullen and knows it, but +hopes to be forgiven. + +His shamefaced entrance disarmed her resentment, and in her merry smile +of greeting the dream face faded away. The marvelous vision of the night +lost its dominion over him, and he became again the son of the morning. + +The girl openly mocked him. "You look pale and sheepish. What have you +been doing?" + +"I've been reading about 'Katie King.' Do you believe that story?" + +"We must believe it when a man like Sir William Crookes tells it. Do you +believe what you saw and heard last night?" + +"No, I don't. How can I?" + +"You seemed to believe in the vision of Altair," she persisted, eying +him archly. "You were carried away by her wonderful beauty. I don't +blame you. Her loveliness is beyond anything on this earth. A vision +like that of sublimated womanhood, purified of all its dross, is very +hard on us mortals. Altair doesn't find it necessary to eat eggs and +toast, as I am doing this minute. I'm a horribly vulgar and common +creature I know, and I ought to apologize, but I won't. I like being a +normal human being, and if you don't like to see me eat you may go +away." + +"I like nothing better than to see you eat, and I've just had a couple +of eggs myself. I was hoping all the time you would come down and join +me, but you didn't." + +"I didn't get to sleep as usual last night," she confessed, with a +change of tone. "Altair came to me and kept me stirred up till nearly +two o'clock." + +"What do you mean?" + +"I mean she hung about my bed, tapping and sighing incessantly for what +seemed like hours." + +"Could you see her?" + +"Part of the time. Finally I turned up the light and got rid of her." + +He sat in silence for a few moments, then burst out wildly: "Are we all +going crazy together? When I hear you talk like that it makes me angry, +and it makes me sad. I never met such people before. What does it all +mean? Seems like everybody around my mother is bitten by this +ghost-bug." + +"You, too," she accused. "You caught a little of the madness last +night." + +"I did, I admit it; but I'm going to throw it off. I won't have any more +of it." + +"Is your curiosity satisfied?" + +"No, it is not; but I'm not going to desert the good old sunny world I +know for the kind of windy graveyard we faced last night. Even the eyes +of Altair were sad. Did you notice it?" + +"Yes, I did," she admitted. "And that's one of the things I can't +understand. The spirits all _say_ they are happy, but they _look_ +wistful, and their voices indicate that they are filled with longing to +return." + +"I'm going to break out of this circle of my mother's converts," he +passionately declared. "I've got to do it, or 'll get all twisted out of +shape like the rest of you. I'm going to try again to-day to reach some +man who has never heard of a psychic. I'm going to some big mill and +apply for manual labor. There's something uncanny in the way I'm kept +circling around mother's cranky patrons. I'll get batty in the steeple +if I don't get help. Let's go out for a walk in the park. Let's forget +we're immortal souls for an hour or two. I want to see a tree. Let's go +to the ball game--and to the theater to-night--that'll take all the +money I have left, and leave me just square with the world, so I can +jump into the lake to-morrow without anybody else's money in my pocket. +Come, what do you say?" + +She perceived something more than humor in his noisy declamation, and +accepted his challenge. "I'll go you," she slangily replied; "just wait +till I get my walking-togs on." + +"You've got to hurry," he warned. "I'm going to get out of this house +before anything crazy happens to me. Meet me down at the corner of the +boulevard." + +He left the room with intent to avoid both his mother and Mrs. Joyce. At +the moment he wished to remove himself from any further argument, and +his longing for the trees and the park was a genuine reaction from his +long stress of the supernatural. "My search for a job can go over till +to-morrow," he decided. + +He was sufficiently recovered from his bewilderment, his pain of the +night before, to glow with pleasure as he saw Leonora swinging along +toward him. "She carries herself well," he said. + +She was dressed in a light-gray skirt and jacket, and her white hat had +a long, gray quill which waved back over the rim, giving her the jaunty +air of a yacht under reefed sail. Her face was brilliant with color, +and her eyes were alight with humor. "Aunt Louise wanted to know where +we were going, and I said 'St. Joe, Michigan.'" + +He pretended not to see the joke. "St. Joe; why St. Joe?" + +As she caught his stride she demurely answered, "If you don't know, it's +not for me to explain." + +"I suppose people _do_ go to St. Joe for other purposes than marriage?" + +"It is possible, but they never get into the newspapers. We only hear of +the young things who beat their angry parents by just one boat." She +changed her tone. "Where _shall_ we go?" + +"I don't object to St. Joe." + +She pretended to be shocked. "How sudden you are! We've only known each +other two days." + +"Three. However, we might make it a trial marriage. You could put me on +probation." + +"After your display of inconstancy last night I wouldn't trust you even +for a probationary engagement." + +He harked back to the vision of Altair. "She _was_ beautiful, wasn't +she? Did she really exist, or was it merely some sort of hallucination?" + +"I thought you weren't going to discuss these subjects?" + +He assented instantly. "Quite right. Give me a crack on the ear every +time I break out. I wish I were a robin. See that chap on the lawn! His +clothes grow of themselves, and as for food, all he has to do is to tap +on the ground, and out pops a worm." + +"I prefer roast beef and asparagus tips; and as for wearing the same +feathers all the time--horrible!" + +In such wise they talked, touching lightly on a hundred trivial +subjects, yet carrying the remembrance of Altair as an undertone to +every word. They walked up the boulevard to the Midway, then through the +park to the lagoon, and the sight of the water cheered Victor. "A boat!" +he cried. "Us for a boat-ride." + +He was a skilled and powerful oarsman (she had never seen his equal), +and his bared arms, the roll of his splendid muscles, were a delight to +her eyes. + +He exulted as the water cried out under the keel. "This is what I +needed. I've been without a chance to kill something, or beat somebody, +for three or four days. I am cracking for lack of exercise. Walking +isn't exercise." + +The heavy boat, under his sweeping strokes, cut through the water like a +canoe, and the girl on the stern seat watched him with dreaming eyes, +her air of patronization lost in contemplation of his skill, her hands +on the tiller-rope, her attitude of ease and irresponsibility typifying +the American woman, just as his intense and driving action represented +the American man. + +He traversed the entire length of the lagoon before his need of +muscular activity was met; then they drifted, exclaiming with pleasure +over the charming vistas which every turn of their boat afforded. The +catbirds were singing in the willows, and the banks were white and +yellow with flowering shrubs, and over all the clear sunlight fell in +cascades of gold. The wind was from the lake, cool but not chill; and +every leaf glistened as if newly burnished. The day was perfect spring, +and under its influence the two beings, young and ardent, inclined +irresistibly toward each other. + +The girl, who, up to this moment, had been indifferent, not so say +scornful, of the advances of men, gave herself up to the pleasure which +the companionship of this young giant afforded her. Altair and all that +she represented were very far and faint, dimmed, burned away into +nothingness by the vivid sun of this entrancing day. + +For hours they explored the lagoons, talking nonsense, the divine +nonsense of youth, or sitting idly and gazing at each other with the +new-born frankness of lovers. At last she said, "I'm hungry, aren't +you?" + +"As a wolf," he responded. + +"Shall we go home?" + +"Home? I have no home. No, let's camp right here in the park. There must +be a lunch counter somewhere." + +"There's something better than a lunch counter. There's the German +Building." + +"I'll stand you for a beer and sandwich," he shouted. "Show it to me." + +Returning the boat to the landing, he paid his fee with a satisfied +smile. "I never gave up forty-five cents with better grace in my life," +he said to her. + +She led the way to the cafe in the German Building, and there they ate +and drank in modest fashion, while he expressed his gratitude for her +guidance. "I owe you all I've got," he declared, displaying his little +handful of money. "You've shown me another side of the city's life. It +isn't so bad, this wild life of Chicago. We'll come again. _Will_ you +come again?" He bent a frankly pleading gaze upon her. + +"Indeed I will. I love it here; but Aunt Louise prefers to ride about in +the car. However, you haven't seen all the park yet. You must see the +prairies at the south end, and the Spanish caravels, the convent--all +the marine side of it. Let's walk down the beach." + +He was glad to accept her guidance in this matter also, and they set off +down the curving walk, slowly, as if they found each new rood of ground +more enjoyable than that already traversed. He had a feeling that +nothing so sweet, so perfect as this day's companionship could ever +again come to him, and he lingered over each view as if determined to +extract its every possible phase of enjoyment, and when two paths +presented themselves, he shamelessly advised taking the longer one. So +they came to The Old Convent, to The Caravels in The South Lagoon, and +at last to The Sand Hills. This was the climax of their walk. These +dunes were so different from anything he had ever seen, so remote, so +suggestive, and so flooded with the light of his own growing romance, +that they seemed of another and strangely beautiful land. + +Taking seats upon the grass in the sunlight, which was just warm enough +to be delightful, they absorbed the scene in silence, entranced by the +sails, the far water-line, the sun, the wind, and the fluting of the +birds. The few people who drifted by were unimportant as shadows; and +Leo took no thought of time till a cloud crossed the sun and the wind +felt suddenly chill; then she rose. "We must go home, or they'll +certainly think we've gone to St. Joe." + +He returned to his jocular mood. "If I had ten dollars I'd ask you 'why +not?'" + +"I wouldn't consent if you had a million." + +He pretended to be astonished. "You would not? Why?" + +"Because I believe in the pomp and circumstance of matrimony. No runaway +marriages for me! When I marry, it shall be in a vast cathedral, with a +mighty organ thundering and a long procession of awed and shivering +brides-maids." + +"I'm sorry your tastes run in that way. I don't, at this time, feel able +to gratify them." + +"Nobody asked you, sir," she said; then looking about her, she sighed +deeply. "I hate to leave this place. It seems as though it could never +be so beautiful again. Haven't we had a heavenly day?" + +"I dread going back to the town, for then my needs and all my life +problems will swarm." + +"I wish I could help you," she said, sincerely. + +"You can," he earnestly assured her. "If you will only come out here +with me now and again I shall be able to stand a whole lot of 'grief.'" + +They were walking westward at the moment, past the golf-course, and a +sense of uneasiness filled the girl's heart. She looked up at him with a +grave face. "I don't know why, but I feel an impulse to hurry. I feel as +though we ought to get home as quickly as possible. They may be worried +about us." + +He did not share her apprehension. "I don't think they'll suffer." + +"Something urges me to run," she repeated. "We must go directly home." + +He quickened his step with hers, responding to the anxiety which had +come into her tone, but experiencing nothing of it in his heart. What he +did feel was the certainty that his day of careless ease was over. The +sky seemed suddenly to have lost its brightness. The birds had fallen +silent. The crowds of people seemed less festive. The world of work-worn +men rolled back upon them in a noisy flood as they caught a car and +went speeding down the squalid avenue. Leo's anxiety seemed to increase +rather than to lessen as they neared her home. "There's been some +accident!" she insisted. "I can't tell what it is, but I think your +mother has been hurt." + +He could not believe that anything serious had happened to his mother; +but when they alighted to walk across the boulevard he was quite as +eager to reach the house as she. + +The man at the door wore an expression of well-governed concern, which +led Leo to sharply ask: "What is it, Ferguson? What has happened?" + +"They have taken her, Miss." + +"Taken? Who? What? Who have taken her?" + +"The bailiff, Miss." + +"The bailiff?" + +"Yes, Miss, the officers came with a warrant just as Mrs. Ollnee was +sitting down to luncheon, and it was ever as much as she could do to get +them to wait till she had finished. Mrs. Joyce has gone with her." + +Leo confronted Victor with large eyes. "That was the precise moment when +I had my sensation of alarm." + +Victor was white and rigid with indignation. "Where did they take her?" + +"To the Bond Street Station, sir. You are to come at once." + +"How do I get there?" + +"I'll show you," volunteered Leo. "Is the electric out, Ferguson?" + +"I don't think so, Miss." + +"Order it around at once." She turned to Victor. "Don't worry. Aunt +Louise is not easily rattled. She is able to command all the help that +is necessary. She will have her own lawyer and will see that everything +is done to shield your mother from harm." + +He was aching with remorseful fear. "Oh, if we had not stayed so long," +he groaned, all the beauty and charm of the morning swept away by a wave +of guilt. "Only think! I left the house without a word of greeting to +her! Doesn't it show that there is no peace or security for either of us +so long as we remain here? I have tried twice to get away from this, and +now--" + +The electric carriage came smoothly to the door, and Leo, dismissing the +driver, motioned Victor to enter. "I'll drive," she said; and they swept +out of the gate and down the boulevard as if, by a wafture of the hand, +this young girl had invoked the aid of an Oriental magician. + +The run was easy and swift, till they reached the crowded cross-street +which led westward into the city deeps; and as the carts thickened and +coarse and vicious humanity began to swarm Victor was moved to assert +the man's prerogative. He resented the admiring glances which the +loafers addressed to his companion, and a feeling of awkward +helplessness came upon him. "I wish you'd let me run this car," he said, +morosely. + +Slowly they felt their way to the west, straight on toward a great +railway depot, with Leo deftly winding her way amid trucks and express +wagons, darting past clanging street-cars, and plowing through swarms of +nondescript men and slattern women, till at last she halted on a +crossing, and, leaning from the window, inquired of the police officer +the way to the Bond Street Station. + +"Right around the corner, Miss," he replied, with a smile, pointing the +way with his club. + +She turned up a narrow alley which ran parallel with the great domed +shed of the railway, and drew up before an ugly doorway in a grimy brick +building of depressing architecture. + +Victor alighted with a full realization of having left heaven for a +filthy, squalid hell. The clang and hiss of engines in the shed, the jar +of heavy trucks, the cries of venders, the grind and howl of cars, the +sodden stream of humankind, deafened and appalled him. Nevertheless, he +took the lead into the gloomy anteroom of the station, which was half +filled with officers in uniform escorting or placidly watching +dull-hued, depressed, and unkempt men and women in arrest. + +On inquiry of another officer, they were directed to the door of a long +hall, which was in effect a tunnel. "You'll find your party in the +court-room," the officer said. + +Victor led the way through this battered hallway, and at the end of it +came into a large, bare room lighted with dusty windows on the north. It +was in effect a hall divided in halves by an open railing. In the +eastern end of the chamber the judge was seated surrounded by his clerks +examining a little group of silent men. In the western half of the room, +outside the railing, sat a somber and motley assemblage of negroes, +Italians, and Greeks, mostly young, each presenting a savage and sullen +face. In the midst of such a throng of miscreated beings Leo seemed of +angelic loveliness and purity. + +Before the crowd became aware of her, the keen-eyed girl had discovered +the objects of their search. "There they are," she whispered, pointing +to the corner at the judge's right, where Mrs. Joyce and Mrs. Ollnee +were seated, in close conversation with a dark, smoothly-shaven man of +middle age. "Oh, I'm so glad," she added, "Mr. Bartol is with them." + +She led the way, quite fearlessly, through the aisle and directly up to +the gate, where she was met by the bailiff, or warden of the room, a +sullen-faced, sloppy Irishman. He was too keen-eyed not to be +immediately impressed by her beauty and something strong and clear and +fine in her glance, but before he had time to ask her what she wanted +the gentleman whom she called Bartol came forward, and at his touch the +officer gave way respectfully, and the two young people entered the +inclosure. + +Mrs. Ollnee rose upon seeing Victor, and lifted her arms to his neck. +"Oh, I'm so glad you've come," she murmured, in deep relief. + +A rustle of profound interest passed over the court-room, and such +shuffling of feet and murmur of voices arose that the bailiff rapped +querulously on the railing with the handle of his mallet and glared, in +a vain effort to restore silence. Even the judge, accustomed as he was +to every phase of the human comedy, turned a sympathetic gaze upon the +girl. He was a middle-aged man, with a pale and sensitive careworn face, +and as he resumed his address to the men before him his gentle voice +could be heard above the roar of the street in grave reprimand. The +sodden convicts who stood unshaved and spiritless before him excited his +pity not his wrath. + +Victor sat down beside his mother, whispering, "What is it all about?" + +Mr. Bartol answered: "Pettus, the president of the People's Bank, has +absconded; the bank is closed, and your mother has been arrested for +complicity in his frauds." + +Victor understood almost instantly, for this was exactly what Carew had +warned him about on the night of his first dinner in Mrs. Joyce's house. +"What can we do?" he asked. + +"Leave that to me," replied Bartol. "I will see that your mother is +protected." + +As they sat thus, waiting, while the judge disposed of a wife-beating +case, Victor thought of Altair and the mournful and exquisite smile with +which she had greeted him. What a frightful gulf gaped between these +savage and bestial men--these sullen, pinched, grimy, and malodorous +street-walkers, these sottish, half-human creatures, torn and bloody +with one another's claws--and the celestial vision which his mother, by +some inexplicable necromancy, had been able to create from the sunless +world of her magic! What a measureless stretch lay between this +clamorous, automatic, pitiless court (with its weary judge) and the +sunny bank beside the lagoon, whereon the birds were singing and where +he and Leo had so lately lain to gaze on the far horizon land of wedded +happiness and love! + +Upon his musing the sounding voice of the clerk broke. "_Thomas Aiken_ +vs. _Lucile Ollnee._" + +Led by Mr. Bartol, Mrs. Ollnee and Mrs. Joyce moved through the gate and +stood before the judge, while from the right the complainant and his +witnesses and his lawyer came to oppose them. Victor followed his mother +and stood at the extreme left, with Leo by his side. He had no care of +what the miserable spectators in the seats would think of them. He was +only concerned with the judge and the opposing counsel. + +Upon the motion of the clerk, the bailiff called out, "Hold up your +hands, everybody," and so they all, including even Leo, held up their +right hands and took the oath that what they were about to say would be +the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help them God. + +The judge, worn by the ceaseless stream of diseased, ineffectual, and +halting humanity passing daily before his eyes, gazed in surprise and +growing interest upon this group of handsome and well-dressed people +while the prosecuting attorney presented the claims of the complaining +witness, charging the defendant with conspiring to rob or defraud one, +Mary Aiken. + +"Where is Mrs. Aiken?" asked the judge. + +"She is too ill to appear, your honor," replied the prosecuting +attorney, "but her granddaughter is here prepared to give in detail the +story of how the defendant, who professes to be a medium, induced her +aged and infirm grandmother to withdraw her money from certain +investments in her native town and put them into the hands of +another--namely, the absconding president of the People's Bank, thereby +impoverishing her. Thomas Aiken, the complainant, charges that the said +defendant, Lucile Ollnee, has by her uncanny powers obtained large sums +of money, and that she should be punished as a swindler." + +The judge studied the faces of the witnesses before him, then asked, +"What have you to say to this, Mrs. Ollnee?" + +"It is false," she replied. + +The prosecution put in a word. "You will not deny that you advised these +investments?" + +"I advised nothing," she retorted. "What my controls advised I only know +in a general way." + +"What do you mean by 'controls'?" inquired the judge. + +"I am a spirit medium, and sometimes a trance medium," she replied, +facing him steadily. "Those whom men call the dead speak through me." + +"In what way?" + +"Partly by writing, partly by means of voices." + +"Do you mean to say that the dead speak in voices audible to others than +yourself?" + +"Yes, your honor, they often speak so loud that any one may hear them. +For the most part they whisper." + +The prosecution again struck in. "These voices are a part of the trick, +a part of her method of luring her victims on to do her will." + +The judge turned to the complainant, Thomas Aiken, a dark-faced, sullen +young man. "Have you heard these voices, Mr. Aiken?" + +"No, sir; I never had a seance; but my sister has had a number of +interviews with this woman. I know that in spite of the advice of her +friends my grandmother has been induced to give away her money to this +woman and to that scoundrel, Pettus. We have been robbed by her. It +amounts to that, and we intend to stop it." + +The judge turned back to Mrs. Ollnee. "Do you wish to be tried here and +now on this charge?" + +Mr. Bartol interposed. "No, your honor, we do not. This case is a very +peculiar one. My client is a lady, as you may see, and should never have +been brought into this court in this fashion. That she is a medium is +probably true; but there is no evidence of deceit on her part. She +assures me of her absolute faith in these Voices, and her manner carries +conviction. Her friends believe in her also. She claims to be nothing +more than the means of communication between this world and the world of +the dead." + +The judge smiled faintly. "That is claiming a good deal--from my point +of view. What have you to say to that?" he demanded, turning again to +the complainants. + +A clear, low, musical voice, the voice of a young woman, answered, "The +case is not uncommon, your honor." + +Victor, craning his head forward, found himself looking directly into +the big, intense black eyes of the girl he had rebuffed on the stairway +the first day of his stay. She was vivid, intense, and very indignant as +she said: "The woman pretends to be possessed of the power of +communication with the dead, and by her arts she convinced my +grandmother that her dead husband wished the withdrawal of her money +from a bank in Moline, and that he recommended its investment in this +traction company. She played remorselessly upon the most sacred emotions +of my poor old grandmother, and I have evidence to prove that this +advice has been a part of a general scheme whereby this traction +company, a fake concern, has been able to delude other credulous souls." + +As she paused her lawyer said, wearily: "It is a plain case of +swindling, your honor, and we desire to press the case to its limit at +once, for Pettus cannot be found, and we fear the flight of the +defendant." + +Mr. Bartol spoke suavely. "Your honor, it is not 'a plain case of +swindling.' Mrs. Ollnee is the personal friend of Mrs. John H. Joyce, +whose name you know very well. It is true that messages were given +advising the investment of funds in the traction company, but not only +has this advice been followed by Mrs. Joyce, but by the defendant +herself, who has kept all her own small savings in the same bank." + +The judge turned to Mrs. Ollnee. "Is this true?" + +"It is, your honor." + +The judge spoke to Mrs. Joyce. "You believe in this woman's Voices?" + +"I do." + +"Yet they have advised you to put your money into the hands of a +swindler." + +"Her Voices seem to have done this, yes, sir; but she herself has never +advised in any way." + +"You distinguish between the Voices of your friend and her own +personality, do you?" + +"I do, yes, sir." + +The prosecuting attorney inserted a sneering word. "Your honor, Mrs. +Joyce is known to be credulous and under the influence of this +trickster. She is not a competent witness. She has permitted herself to +be deluded to the point where she will not believe anything ill of her +medium. Thomas Aiken is not the only one ready to press this charge +against the defendant. Four others to my knowledge stand ready to +testify to this woman's uncanny power for deluding and defrauding. My +client finds herself stripped of her little fortune and helpless in her +declining years. The acting of this medium is criminal, and we demand +that she be punished." + +The judge turned his musing eyes upon Mrs. Ollnee's pale face. "Have you +anything further to say, Mrs. Ollnee?" + +"I have never been guilty of any deception, your honor. I claim no +wisdom for myself. If it is true that the traction company is a fraud, +then it must be that lying spirits have spoken impersonating my husband +and my father." + +"That is a subterfuge," interposed the young woman, Miss Aiken. "She is +responsible for her Voices." + +"You accept money for your services, do you not?" the judge asked of +Mrs. Ollnee. + +"Not now, no sir." + +"Did you formerly?" + +"Yes, sir, after my husband died, I was forced to do so in order to +educate my son." + +"Is this your son?" + +"Yes, sir." + +The judge addressed himself to Victor. "What do you know of your +mother's power as a medium? Do you share her faith?" + +Victor felt the burning eyes of the angry girl upon him as he replied: +"I know very little about it, your honor. I have been away to school +ever since I was ten years old." + +"Mrs. Joyce, you are a believer in Mrs. Ollnee's powers?" + +"I am, a firm believer." + +"You've had no reason to doubt the genuineness of these messages?" + +"Up to the present time I have not." + +"You will lose heavily in this traction swindle, if it is a swindle, +will you not?" + +"If it has failed, yes, sir." + +"Does that shake your faith in the medium?" + +"Not in the slightest, your honor. It is a well-known fact that lying +spirits sometimes interpose." + +During this interrogation, which had proceeded in conversational tone, +they had all remained standing before the judge, whose speculative eyes +wandered from face to face with growing interest. At last he said to the +prosecuting attorney: "From your own statement of it, this case is not +to be tried here. I do not feel myself competent at this time to pass +upon the questions involved." + +"She shall not escape," said Miss Aiken, with bitter menace. + +Mr. Bartol interposed. "We demand a trial by jury, your honor." + +"You shall have it," responded the judge. + +The Aikens withdrew sullenly, and the bailiff indicated that the +defendant and her party might retire to an inner office while papers +were being prepared; and this they did. This room proved to be a bare, +bleak place, with benches and yellow wooden chairs, as ugly as a country +railway station, wherein a few officers were carelessly lounging about. +They all gazed curiously at Mrs. Ollnee and Leo, and one of them +muttered to the other, "It's not often that a classy bunch like that +comes into court." + +The indignity of it all caused Leo to forget her own share in the +traction company's failure. "It is shameful that you should be dragged +here," she said, when the door closed behind them. + +"Leo!" cried Mrs. Ollnee, in agonized voice. "Do you realize that this +failure means almost as much of a loss to you as it does to Louise?" + +This affected the girl only for an instant. Then she loyally said: +"Yes, I know. But I do not blame you for it." + +Mrs. Ollnee turned to her son. "If all they say is true, Victor, we are +the victims of some lying devils--" + +Leo soothingly laid her hand on her arm. "Let us not think about that +just now. Let us wait until we are safely out of this dreadful place." + +Victor perceived that his mother was shaken to the very deeps of her +faith. She was trembling with excitement and weakness, and his anxiety +deepened into a fear that she might faint. "There are devils here," she +whispered. "I feel them all about me--bestial, horrible--take me away!" + +"Can't we go now?" he asked of the officer, who seemed to have an eye on +them. "My mother is not well." + +"Wait till the bail is fixed up," the officer replied, pleasantly but +inexorably. + +They remained in silence till Mrs. Joyce and Mr. Bartol appeared. Then +Victor hurried his mother out into the street, eager to escape the +desolating air of this moral charnel-house. It was by no means a +perfectly pure atmosphere without, but it was fresher than within, and +Mrs. Ollnee revived almost instantly. "Oh, the swarms of unclean spirits +in there!" she said, looking back with a face of horror. + +Mrs. Joyce put her into the car with Leo and told them to go directly +home, while she, with Victor, took Mr. Bartol to his office. Victor, +stunned by the new and crushing blow which had fallen upon him, turned +to the great lawyer with a boy's trust and admiration. "What can we do?" +he asked, as soon as they had taken their seats in the car. + +Mr. Bartol did not attempt to make light of the case. His dark, strong +face was very grave as he answered: "For the present we can do very +little beyond getting our bearings. It seems to me at the moment as +though the whole question hinged upon the possibility of dual +personality, and so far as I am concerned, I have no mind upon that +matter. I must give it attention before I can reply. Our immediate +concern is to keep your mother from further trouble and assault. If, as +the prosecution stated, there are others in this fight, they and the +press can make it very unpleasant for you all. Miss Florence Aiken has a +powerful and vindictive pen. She will not cease her persecution--for she +is at the bottom of the case." + +Mrs. Joyce turned to him with eager face. "I wish you would invite Mrs. +Ollnee and her son up to your farm for a few days." + +"I do so with pleasure. I am going up to-night on the eight-o'clock +train, and I shall be very glad to have them go with me, if they care to +do so. We can then talk the whole case over at our leisure and in quiet. +Perhaps you can run up and stay over Sunday with us." + +"That is the very thing," she responded; "and I'm very grateful to you." + +Again Victor felt himself helpless, whirling along in a stream of alien +purpose like a leaf in a mountain torrent, and again he abandoned +himself to its sweep. "I will do anything to get away from here," he +replied. + +Mr. Bartol went on: "Your mother's case will not come up for some days, +and the rest and quiet of the farm will do you both good." To Mrs. Joyce +he added, privately: "The whole matter interests me vastly. I don't at +all mind giving some time to it, and, besides, I like the young man." + +Mrs. Joyce dropped the lawyer at his office door and sped homeward +swiftly, with intent to overtake Leo. She did not attempt to conceal her +anxiety. "The truth is, Victor, Pettus and his friends called into our +circle a throng of wicked, deceiving spirits. They were not what they +claimed to be. They were cheats, and they have almost ruined us. Your +poor, sweet mother is not to blame, and I can't blame the Aikens. What I +cannot understand is this--Why did your father and his band permit these +treacherous personalities to intervene? Why did they not defend her from +these demons?" + +Victor listened to her with a complete reversal to disbelief as regards +his mother's mediumship. He forgot the marvels of the direct writing, +the mighty murmuring wind, the dream-face of Altair; all these +insubstantial and evanescent perceptions were lost, submerged by the +returning sea of his doubt. He saw, too, that Leo's faith was shaken. He +felt it beneath her brave-spoken words. The whole question of the +process, as well as the content of the messages, was reopened for her. +His situation grew ever darker. His way was again blocked. He could not +leave his mother to her fate, and yet he could not see his way to +earning a cent of money while this horrible accusation was hanging over +her. He acknowledged, too, a very definite feeling of sympathy with +those who had been defrauded. There was moral indignation in Miss +Aiken's tremulous eagerness to punish. "She's not to blame," he said. +"I'd do exactly as she is doing if I were in her place." + + + + +X + +A VISIT TO HAZEL GROVE + + +Bartol, attended by porters and greeted by conductors and brakemen, led +the way to the parlor-car in a stern abstraction, which was his habit. +Victor studied him closely and with growing admiration. He was not tall, +but his head was nobly formed and his broad mask of face lion-like in +its somber dreaming. In repose it was sad, almost bitter, and in profile +clear-cut and resolute. His dress was singularly tasteful and orderly, +with nothing of the careless celebrity in its color or cut, and yet no +one would accuse him of being the dandy. He was naturally of this +method, and gave little direct thought to toilet or dress. + +Mrs. Ollnee looked upon him as her rescuer, one who had snatched her +from loathsome captivity; but his manner did not invite repeated and +profuse thanks. With a few words of polite explanation, he took a seat +behind his wards, unfolded his newspaper, and forgot them till the +conductor came through the car; then he remembered them and paid their +fares. + +Mrs. Ollnee was not merely awed by his powerful visage and searching +eyes; she was profoundly stirred by some psychic influence which +emanated from him. She whispered to Victor: "He is very sad. He is all +alone. He has lost his wife and both his children. He has no hope, and +often feels like leaving this life." + +Victor did not take this communication as a "psychometric reading," for +he had been able to discern almost as much with his own eyes, and, +besides, all of its definite information Mrs. Joyce might have +furnished; but his mother added something that startled him. She said: +"The Voices say, '_Obey this man; study him. He will raise you high!_'" + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"I don't know," she replied. "That is the way I hear it. I hear other +Voices--they say to me, '_Comfort him._'" + +Victor was not in a mood for "voices," and cut her short by asking in +detail about her arrest. "Who came for you? A policeman?" + +"Yes, but not in uniform. They were very nice about it. At first I was +terribly frightened. I was afraid I should have to go in the +patrol-wagon, but we were allowed to ride in the car, the policeman +sitting with the driver--" + +Victor groaned. "Oh, mother, why did you give out _business_ advice!" + +"I gave what was given to me," she responded. + +"Think of the disgrace of being in that court-room!" + +"I didn't mind the disgrace," she replied; "but it swarmed with horrible +spirits. Each one of those poor criminals had a cloud of other base, +distorted, half-formed creatures hovering about him. It was like being +in a cage with a host of obscene bats fluttering about." She shuddered. +"It was horrible! It was a sweet relief when you and Leo came, for a new +and happy band came with you. You helped my band drive away the cloud of +low beings that oppressed me; and now there is something calming and +serenely helpful all about me. It comes from Mr. Bartol. I am no longer +afraid; I am perfectly serene." + +Victor made no attempt at elucidating her exact meaning; there was +something depressing to him in this continued dependence upon spirit +guidance, a guidance that had led them into so much trouble and +discredit. He sat by the window, watching the faintly-outlined moonlit +landscape flowing past, feeling himself to be a very small insect riding +on the chariot of the king of tempests, with no power to check the speed +or direct the course of his inflexible driver. His own future was but a +flutter of vague shadows, his boyhood a serene, sun-warm meadow, now +swiftly receding into the darkness of night. Would anything so beautiful +ever come again? + +His mother, sitting as if entranced, was looking down at her folded +hands, her brow unlined; but a plaintive droop in the lines of her +sensitive mouth told that she was wearied and secretly disheartened. + +"Poor little mother!" he said, laying a hand on her arm, "you are +tired." + +The tears came to her eyes, but she smiled back radiantly. "I don't care +what comes, if only you believe in me," she said, simply; and he took +her hand in both of his and pressed it like a lover. + +At last Mr. Bartol folded his paper and put away his glasses. "Well, we +are nearing Hazel Grove," he announced, smilingly. "It's only a little +village, a meeting of cross-roads, but I think you'll like the country; +it's the fine old rolling prairie of which you've heard." + +The moon was riding high as they alighted from the coach upon the +platform of a low, wooden station in the midst of green fields. A clump +of trees, and the lights in dimly discerned houses, gave only a faint +suggestion of a town; but an open carriage was waiting for them, and +entering this, they were driven away into the most delicious and +fragrant silence. + +Instantly the last trace of Victor's anger and unrest fell away from +him. Of this simple quality had been the scenes of his life at school. +In such peace and serenity his earlier years had been spent; indeed, all +his life, save for the few tumultuous days in the city--and he was +immediately restored and comforted by the sounds, sights, and odors of +the superb spring night. + +"Isn't it glorious!" he cried. "I feel as if I were reaching God's +country again." + +The swiftly stepping horses whirled them up the street through a bunch +of squat buildings and out along a gently rising lane to the south. Ten +minutes later the driver turned into a large, tree-shaded drive, and +over a curving graveled drive approached a spreading white house, whose +porticos shone pleasantly in the moonlight. A row of lighted windows +glowed with hospitable intent, and tall vases of flowers showed dimly. + +"Here we are!" called Mr. Bartol, with genial cordiality. "Welcome to +Hazeldean." + +To dismount before this wide porch in the midst of the small innumerable +voices of the night was like living out some delicious romance. To come +to it from the reek and threat of the court-room made its serene expanse +a heavenly refuge, and the beleaguered mother paused for a moment at the +door to look back upon the lawn, where opulent elms and maples dreamed +in the odorless gloom. "I have never seen anything so peaceful," she +breathed. "Only heavenly souls inhabit here." + +The interior was equally restful and reassuring. Large rooms with simple +and substantial furnishings led away from a short entrance hall. The +ceilings were low and dark, and the lamps shaded. Books were everywhere +to be seen, many of them piled carelessly convenient to lights and +chairs, as if it were both library and living-room. + +The first word Victor spoke related to the books, and Mr. Bartol replied +with a smile. + +"They are not especially well chosen. I fear you'll find them a mixed +lot. I read nothing but law in the city--here I indulge my fancy. You'll +wonder what my principle of selection is, and, if you ask me, I must +answer--I haven't any. I buy whatever commends itself to me at the +moment. One thing leads to another--romance to history, history to +poetry, poetry to the drama, and so on." He greeted a very tidy maid who +entered the room. "Good-evening, Marie. This is Mrs. Ollnee, and this is +her son, Mr. Victor Ollnee. Please see that they are made comfortable." +Then again to his guests. "You must be tired." + +"I am so, Mr. Bartol," replied Mrs. Ollnee, "and if you'll pardon me +I'll go to my room." + +"Certainly--and you may go, too, if you feel like it," he said to +Victor. + +"I am not sleepy," replied Victor. + +"Very well," replied his host. "Be seated and we'll discuss the +situation for a few minutes." + +He led the way to a corner where two wide windows opening on the lawn +made delicious mingling of night air and study light, and offering his +guest a cigar, took a seat, saying: "I run out here whenever the city +becomes a burden. I find I need just such a corrective to the intense +life of the city. It is my rule to give no thought to legal troubles +while I am here; hence the absence of codes and all legal literature. +You are a college man, Mrs. Joyce tells me." + +"I was at Winona last Saturday, and expected to stay there till June, +when I was due to graduate. Then the devil broke loose, and here I am. +When will my mother's case come up?" + +"Not for some weeks, I fear. If you wish to return to your studies we +can arrange that." + +"No. I'm done with school. I'm only worried about my mother. What do you +think of her case, Mr. Bartol?" + +"I'm not informed sufficiently to say," he replied, slowly. "The whole +subject of hypnotic control seems to be involved. I must know more of +your mother before I can even hazard an opinion. The theories of +suggestion are all rather vague to me. I have only what might be called +a newspaper knowledge of them; but I have some information as to your +mother's profession I gained from my friend Mrs. Joyce, so that I am not +entirely uninformed. Besides, it is a lawyer's business to know +everything, and I shall at once proceed to bore into the subject." + +Mrs. Ollnee returning brought him to his feet in graceful acknowledgment +of her sex, and placing a chair for her, he said, "I hope you don't mind +tobacco." + +"Not at all," she replied, quite as graciously. + +He placed a chair for her so that the light fell upon her face, and she +knew that he intended to study her as if she were a page of strange +text. + +"I'm glad you like it here," he said, in answer to her repeated +admiration of his home, "for I suspect you'll have to stay here for the +present. The city is passing through one of those moral paroxysms which +come once in a year or two. Last year it was the social evil; just now +it concerns itself with what the reformers are pleased to call 'the +occult fakers.' The feeling of a jury would be against you at present, +and as I have promised Mrs. Joyce to take charge of your defense, I +think it well for you to go into retirement here while I take time to +inform myself of the case." + +"I do not like to trouble you." + +"It is no trouble, my dear madam. Here is this big home, empty and +completely manned. A couple of guests, especially a hearty young man, +will be a godsend to my cook. She complains of not having men to feed. +Don't let any question of expense to me trouble you." + +"Thank you most deeply." + +"Don't thank me; thank Louise Joyce, who is both client and friend, and +the one to whom I owe this pleasure." He bowed. "I never before had the +opportunity of entertaining a 'psychic,' and I welcome the +opportunity." + +She did not quite know how to take him, and neither did Victor; and +perceiving that doubt, Bartol added: "I am quite sincere in all this. I +hear a good deal, obscurely, of this curious phase of human life, but +never before have I been confronted by one who claims the power of +divination." + +"Pardon me, sir, I do not claim such power." + +"Do you not! I thought that was precisely your claim." + +"No, sir, I am a medium. I report what is given to me. I divine nothing +of myself. I am an instrument through which those whom men call 'the +dead' speak." + +"I see," he mused. "I will not deceive you," he began again, very +gravely. "This charge against you is likely to prove serious, and you +must be quite frank with me. I may require a test of your powers." + +"I am at your service, sir. Make any test of me you please--this moment +if you like." + +"I will not require anything of you to-night. Writers tell me that +'mediums' are a dark, elusive, and uncanny set, Mrs. Ollnee, and I must +confess that you upset my preconceptions." + +"There are all kinds of mediums, as there are all kinds of lawyers, Mr. +Bartol. I am human, like the others." + +"If you will permit me, I will take up your defense along the lines of +hypnotic control on the part of this man Pettus." + +"I cannot presume to advise you, sir, but you must know that to me these +Voices come from the spirit world. I am the transmitter merely--for +instance, at this moment I hear a Voice and I see behind you the form of +a lady, a lovely young woman--" + +"Mother!" called Victor, warningly. "Don't start in on that!" + +"Proceed," said Bartol; "I am interested." + +The psychic, leaning forward slightly, fixed her wide, deep-blue eyes +upon him. "The maid conducted me to the room which had been your wife's, +but I could not stay there. This lady who stands beside you took me by +the hand and led me away to another room. She is nodding at me now." + +"Do you mean the maid led you from the room?" + +"No, I mean the spirit now standing behind you led me here. She says her +name is Margaret Bartol. She said: '_Comfort my dear husband. Restore +his faith._' She is smiling at me. She wants me to go on." + +Bartol's face remained inscrutably calm. "Where does the form seem to +be?" + +"At your right shoulder. She says, '_Tell him Walter and Hattie are both +with me._' She listened a moment. She says, '_Tell him Walter's mind is +perfectly clear now._'" + +Victor thought he saw the lawyer start in surprise, but his voice was +cold as he said, "Go on." + +"She says: '_Tell him the way is open. I am here. Ask him to speak to +me._'" + +Bartol then spoke, but his tone plainly showed that he was testing his +client's hallucination and not addressing himself to the imaginary +ghost. "Are you there, Margaret?" + +"_Yes_," came the answer, clearly though faintly. + +The renowned lawyer gazed at the medium with eyes that burned deep, and +presently he asked, "What have you to say to me?" + +Again came the clear, silvery whisper: "_Much. Trust the medium. She +will comfort you._" + +Victor thrilled to the importance of this moment, and much as he feared +for his mother's success, he could not but admire the courage which +blazed in her steady eyes. She was no longer afraid of this mighty man +of the law, to whom heaven and hell were obsolete words. She was +panoplied with the magic and mystery of death, and waited calmly for him +to continue. + +At last he said: "Go on. I am listening." + +Again through the flower-scented, silent room the sibilant voice stole +its way. "_Father._" + +"Who is speaking?" + +"_Margaret._" + +"Margaret? What Margaret?" + +"_Your 'rascal' Peggy._" + +Bartol certainly started at this reply, which conveyed an expression of +mirth, but his questions continued formal. + +"What is your will with me?" + +"_Mamma is here--and Walter._" + +"Can they speak?" + +"_They will try._" + +Again silence fell upon the room--a silence so profound that every +insect's stir was a rude interruption. At length another whisper, +clearer, louder, made itself heard: "_Alexander, be happy. I live._" + +"Who are you?" + +"_Your wife._" + +"You say so. Can you prove your identity?" + +The whisper grew fainter. "_I will try. It is hard. Good-by._" + +Bartol raised his hand to his head with a gesture of surprise. "I +thought I felt a touch on my hair." + +"The lady touched you as she passed away," Mrs. Ollnee explained. "She +has gone. They are all gone now." + +"I am sorry," he said, in polite disappointment. "I wanted to pursue the +interrogation. Is this the usual method of your communications?" + +"This is one way. They write sometimes, and sometimes they speak through +a megaphone; sometimes they materialize a face or a hand." + +He remained in profound thought for a few moments, then starting up, +spoke with decision: "You are tired. Go to bed. We'll have plenty of +time to take up these matters to-morrow. Please feel at home here and +stay as long as you wish." + +A little later he took Victor to his room, and as they stood there he +remarked, "Of course, all this may be and probably is mind-reading and +ventriloquism--subconscious, of course." + +"But the writing," said Victor. "You must see that. That is the weirdest +thing she does. It is baffling." + +"My boy, the whole universe is baffling to me," his host replied, and +into his voice came that tone of tragic weariness which affected the +youth like a strain of solemn music. "The older I grow the more +senseless, hopelessly senseless, human life appears; but I must not say +such things to you. Good-night." + +"Good-night," responded Victor, with swelling throat. "We owe you a +great deal." + +"Don't speak of it!" the lawyer commanded, and closed the door behind +him. + +Victor dropped into a chair. What a day this had been! Within +twenty-four hours he had seen and loved the dream-face of Altair and had +been blown upon by the winds from the vast chill and empty regions of +space. He had resented Leo's voice in the night, but had returned to her +in the light of the morning. On the dreamy lagoon he had been her lover +again, pulling at the oar with savage joy, and on the grass in the +sunlight he had been the man unafraid and victorious. Then came the +hurried return, the visit to the court, the rescue of his mother--and +here now he lay in the charity bed of his mother's lawyer! "Truly I am +being hurried," he said; and recalling Miss Aiken's final menacing +remark, he added: "And if that girl and her brother can do it mother +will be sent to prison." Much as he feared these accusing witnesses, he +acknowledged a kind of fierce beauty in Florence Aiken's face. + +As he lay thus, thinking deeply yet drowsily upon his problems, he heard +a faint ticking sound beneath his head. It was too regular and +persistent to be a chance creaking of the cloth, and he rose and shook +the pillow to dislodge the insect which he imagined might have flown in +at the window. + +The ticking continued. "I wonder if that _is_ a fly?" + +The ticking seemed to reply, "No," by means of one decided rap. To test +it, he asked, "Are you a spirit?" + +The tick counted one, two, three--"_Yes._" + +"Some one to speak to me?" + +_Tick, tick, tick_--"Yes." + +The answer was so plainly intelligent that the boy, silent with +amazement, not unmixed with fear, lay for a few minutes in puzzled +inaction. At length he asked, "Who is it--Father?" + +"Tick"--No. + +"_Grandfather?_" + +"_No._" + +He hesitated before asking the next question. "Is it Altair?" + +"_No._" + +He thought again. "Is it Walter Bartol?" + +The answer was joyously instant. "_Yes, yes, yes!_" + +"Do you wish to speak to me?" + +"_Yes._" + +"About your father?" + +"_Yes._" + +"Through my mother?" + +Now came one of those baffling changes. The answer was faintly slow, +"Tick, tick," betraying uncertainty--and succeeding queries elicited no +response. + +Victor, excited and eager, would have gone to his mother for aid had he +known where to find her room. The mood for marvels was upon him now, and +Altair and Margaret, and all the rest of the impalpable throng, seemed +waiting in the dusk and silence to communicate with him. Hopelessly wide +awake, he lay, while the big clock on the landing rang its little chime +upon the quarter hours, but no further sign was given him of the +presence of his intangible visitor; and at last the experience of the +day became as unsubstantial as his dreams. + +He was awakened by the cackling of fowls and the bleating of calves and +lambs. The sun was shining through the leafy top of a tree which lay +almost against his window, and happy shadows were dancing like fairies +on the coverlet of his bed. + +"It sounds like a real farm!" he drowsily murmured, filled with the +peace of those cries, which typify the most ancient and unchanging parts +of the cottager's life. + +He had known only the poetic side of farm life. He had seen it, heard +it, tasted it only as the lad out for a holiday, and it all seemed +serene and joyous to him. To his mind the luxury of quietly dozing to +the music of a barn-yard was the natural habit of the farmer. He did not +attempt to rise till he heard the voice of his host from the lawn +beneath his window. + +A half an hour later he found Bartol in the barn-yard surveying a span +of colts which his farmer was leading back and forth before him. They +were lanky, thin-necked creatures, but Victor knew enough of horses to +perceive in them signs of a famous breed of trotters. + +"You are a real farmer," he said, as he came up to his host. + +Bartol seemed pleased. "I made it pay five per cent. last year," he +responded, with pride. "Of course that means counting in my time as a +farmer, and not as a lawyer. How did you sleep?" + +"Pretty well--when I got at it. I was a little excited and didn't go off +as I usually do when I hit the pillow." + +"No wonder! I had a restless night myself." He nodded to the hostler. +"That will do," and turned away. "I gave a great deal of thought to your +mother's case. The fact seems to be that the human organism is a great +deal more complicated than we're permitted ourselves to admit, and the +tendency of the ordinary man is to make the habitual commonplace, no +matter how profoundly mysterious it may be at the outset. Of course at +bottom we know very little of the most familiar phenomenon. Why does +fire burn and water run? No one really knows." + +They were facing the drive, which curved like a lilac ribbon through the +green of the lawn, and the estate to Victor's eyes had all the charm of +a park combined with the suggestive music of a farmstead. + +"It's beautiful here!" he exclaimed. + +"I'm glad you like it, and I hope you and your mother will stay till we +have put you both straight with the world." + +"If I could only do something to pay my freight, Mr. Bartol. I feel like +a beggar and a fool to be so helpless. I was not expecting to be kicked +out of college, and I'm pretty well rattled, I'll confess." + +"You keep your poise notably," the lawyer replied, with kindly glance. +"To be so suddenly introduced to the mystery and the chicanery of the +world would bewilder an older and less emotional man." + +They breakfasted in a big room filled with the sunlight. Through the +open windows the scent of snowy flowers drifted, and the food and +service were of a sort that Victor had never seen. A big grape-fruit, +filled with sugar and berries; corn-cakes, crisp and golden; bacon +delicately broiled, together with eggs (baked in little earthen cups), +and last of all, coffee of such fragrance that it seemed to vie with the +odor of the flowers without. Each delicious dish was served deftly, +quietly, by a sweet-faced maid, who seemed to feel a filial interest in +her master. + +The service was a revelation of the perfection to which country life can +be brought by one who has both wealth and culture; and Victor wondered +that any one could be sad amid such radiant surroundings. + +"I can't see why you ever return to the city," he said, with conviction. + +Bartol smiled. "That's the perversity of our human nature. If I were +forced to live here all the time the farm might pall upon me, just as if +all seasons were spring. As it is, I come back to it from the turmoil of +the town with never-cloying appetite. Per contra, these maids and my +farm-hands find a visit to the city their keenest delight. To them the +parks and the artificial ponds are more beautiful than anything in +nature." His tone changed. "In truth, I live on and do my work more from +force of habit than from zest. So far as I can, I get back to the simple +animal existence, where sun and air and food are the never-failing +pleasures. I try to forget that I am a pursuer of criminals. I return to +my work in the city, as I say, because it helps to keep my appetite for +the rural things. I can't afford to let silence and green trees pall +upon me. If I were a little more of a believer," he smiled, "I would say +that you and your mother had been sent to me, for of late I have been in +a deeper slough of despair than at any time since the death of my wife. +I am curious to see how all this is going to affect your mother. She may +find it very lonely here." + +"Oh, I'm sure she will not." + +"Well, now, I must be off. But before I go I will show you the +catalogues of my library; and perhaps I can bring home some books which +will bear on these occult subjects. I have given orders that no +information as to you shall go off the place; and your mother is safe +here. You may read, or hoe in the garden, or ride a horse." + +"I wish I might go to the city with you." + +"My judgment is against it. Stay here for a few days till we see which +way the wind is blowing." And with a cheery wave of his hand he drove +away, leaving Victor on the porch with the feeling of being marooned on +an island--a peaceful and beautiful island, but an island nevertheless. + + + + +XI + +LOVE'S TRANSLATION + + +To tell the truth, Victor dreaded being left alone with his mother in +this way. He was fully aware now of the invisible barrier between them. +No matter what explanation was finally offered, she could never be the +same to him again, for whether it was her subconscious self which had +cunningly lured them all to the verge of disaster, or some +uncontrollable impulse coming from without, in the light any +explanation, she was no longer the sweet, gentle, normal mother he had +hitherto thought her to be. + +It was not a question of being in possession of strange abilities, it +was a question of being obsessed by some diabolical power--of being the +prey of malignant demons avid to destroy. + +The more deeply he thought upon all that had come to him, the more +bewildered he became; and to avoid this tumult, which brought no result, +he went out and wandered about the farm. His experience was like +visiting a foreign country, for the men were either Swiss or German; and +the walls of the farm-yard quite as un-American in their massiveness +and their formal arrangement--a vivid contrast to the flimsy structures +of the neighboring village. The servants (that is what they were, +servants) treated him with the trained deference of those who for +generations have touched their caps to the more fortunate beings of the +earth, and these signs of subordination were distinctly soothing to the +youth's disturbed condition of mind. Instantly, and without effort, he +assumed the air of the young aristocrat they thought him. + +He strolled down the road to the village, which was a collection of +small frame cottages in neat lawns, surrounding a few general stores and +a greasy, fly-specked post-office. Here was the unimaginative, the +prosaic, perfectly embodied. Old men, bent and gray, were gossiping from +benches and boxes under the awnings. Clerks in their shirt-sleeves were +lolling over counters. A few farmers' teams stood at the iron +hitching-posts with drowsy, low-hanging heads. Neither doubt nor dismay +nor terror had footing here. The majesty of dawn, the mystery of +midnight, did not touch these peaceful and phlegmatic souls. The spirit +of man was to them less than an abstraction and the tumult of the city a +far-off roar as of distant cataracts. + +Furthermore, these matter-of-fact folk had abundant curiosity and no +reverence, and they all stared at Victor with round, absorbent gaze, as +if with candid intent to take full invoice of his clothing, and to know +him again in any disguise. He heard them say, one after the other, as he +passed along, "Visitor of Bartol's, I guess." And he could understand +that this explanation really explained, for Bartol's "Castle" was the +resting-place of many strange birds of passage. + +Bartol was, indeed, the constant marvel of Hazel Grove. Why had he +bought the place? Why, after it was bought, should he spend so much +money on it? And finally, why should he employ "foreigners"? These were +a few of the queries which were put and answered and debated in the +shade of the furniture store and around the air-tight store of the +grocery. His farm was their never-failing wonder tale. The building of a +new wall was an excitement, each whitewashing of a picket fence an +event. They knew precisely the hour of departure of each blooded ram or +bull, and the birth of each colt was discussed as if another son and +heir had come to the owner. + +Naturally, therefore, all visitors to "Hazeldean" came in for study and +comment--especially because it was well known that Bartol stood high in +the political councils of the party (was indeed mentioned for senator), +and that his guests were likely to be "some punkins" in the world. "This +young feller is liable to be the son of one of his millionaire clients," +was the comment of the patient sitters. "Husky chap, ain't he?" + +Feeling something of this comment, and sensing also the sleepy +materialism of the inhabitants, Victor regained much of his own +disbelief in the miraculous, and yet just to that degree did the pain in +his heart increase, for it made of his mother something so monstrous +that the conception threatened all his love and reverence for her. Pity +sprang up in place of the filial affection he had once known. He began +to make new excuses for her. "It must be that she has become so +suggestible that every sitter's mind governs her. In a sense, that +removes her responsibility." And so he walked back, with all his +pleasure in the farm and village eaten up by his care. + +His mother was waiting for him on the porch, and as he came up, asked +with shining face: + +"Isn't this heavenly, Victor?" + +"It is very beautiful," he replied, but with less enthusiasm than she +expected. + +"To think that yesterday I was threatened with the prison, and +now--this! We have much to thank Mr. Bartol for." + +"That's just it, mother. What claim have we on this big, busy man? What +right have we to sit here?" + +The brightness of her face dimmed a little, but she replied bravely: "I +have always paid my way, Victor, and I am sure last night's message +meant much to Mr. Bartol. I always help people. If I bring back a belief +in immortality do I not make fullest recompense to my host? My gift is +precious, and yet I cannot sell it--I can only give it--and so when I am +offered bed and board in return for my work I am not ashamed to take it. +The kings of the earth are glad to honor those who, like myself, have +the power to penetrate the veil." + +Never before had she ventured upon so frank a defense of her vocation, +and Victor listened with a new conception of her powers. As she +continued she took on dignity and quiet force. + +"The medium gives more for her wages than any earthly soul; and when you +consider that we make the grave a gateway to the light, that our hands +part the veil between the seen and the unseen, then you will see that +our gifts are not abnormal, but supernormal. God has given us these +powers to comfort mankind, to afford a new revelation to the world." + +"Why didn't you make me a medium?" he asked, thrusting straight at her +heart. "Why did you send me away from it all?" + +Her eyes fell, her voice wavered. "Because I was weak--an earthly +mother. My selfish love and pride overpowered me. I could not see you +made ashamed--and besides my controls advised it for the time." + +He took a seat where he could look up into her face. "Mother, tell me +this--haven't you noticed that your controls generally advise the things +you believe in?" + +She was stung by his question. "Yes, my son, generally; but sometimes +they drive me into ways I do _not_ believe in. Often they are in +opposition to my own will." + +He was silenced for the moment, and his mind took a new turn. "When did +Altair first come?" + +"Soon after I met Leo. She came with Leo. She attends Leo." + +"Have you seen her?" + +"No. I am always in deepest trance when she shows herself. I hear her +voice, though." + +"Mother," he said, earnestly, "if Mr. Bartol gets us out of this scrape +will you go away with me into some new country and give up this +business?" + +"You don't seem to understand, Victor. I can no more escape from these +Voices than I can run away from my own shadow. I don't want to run away. +I love the thought of them. I have innumerable sweet friends on the +other side. To close the door in their faces would be cruel. It would +leave me so lonely that I should never smile again." + +"Then they mean more to you than I do!" he exclaimed. + +"No, no! I don't mean that!" she passionately protested. "You mean more +to me than all the _earthly_ things, but these heavenly hosts are very +dear--besides, I shall go to them soon and I want to feel sure that I +can come back to you when I have put aside the body. I fear now that +our separation was a mistake. In trying to shield you from the transient +disgrace of being a medium's son, I have put your soul in danger. I was +weak--I own it. I was an earthly mother. I wanted my boy to be respected +and rich and happy here in the earth-life. I did not realize the danger +I ran of being forever separated from you by the veil of death. Oh, +Victor, you must promise me that should I pass out suddenly you will try +to keep the spirit-way open between us--will you promise this?" + +Strange scene! Strange mother! All about them the orioles were +whistling, the robins chirping, and farther away the beasts of the +barn-yard were bawling their wants in cheerful chorus, but here on this +vine-shaded porch a pale, small woman sought a compact with her son +which should outlast the grave and defy time and space. + +He gave his word. How could he refuse it? But his pledge was +half-hearted, his eyes full of wavering. It irked him to think that in a +month of bloom and passion, a world of sunny romance, a world of girls +and all the sweet delights they conveyed to young men, he should be +forced to discuss matter which relates to the charnel-house and the +chill shadow of the tomb. + +He rose abruptly. "Don't let's talk of this any more. Let's go for a +walk. Let's visit the garden." + +She was swifter of change than he. She could turn from the air of the +"ghost-room" to the glory of the peacock as swiftly as a mirror reflects +its beam of light, and she caught a delightful respite from the flowers. +She was accustomed to the lavish greenhouses of her wealthy patrons, but +here was something that delighted her more than all their hotbeds. Here +were all the old-fashioned out-of-door plants and flowers, the +perennials of her grandfather, to whom hot-houses were unknown. This +Colonial garden was another of Bartol's peculiarities. He had no love +for orchids, or any exotic or forced blooms. His fancy led to the +glorification of phloxes, to the ripening of lilacs, and to the +preservation of old-time varieties of roses--plants with human +association breathing of romance and sorrow--hence his plots were filled +with hardy New England roots flourishing in the richer soils of the +Western prairies. + +These colors, scents, and forms moved Victor markedly, for the reason +that in La Crescent, as a child, he had been accustomed to visit a gaunt +old woman, the path to whose door led through cinnamon roses, balsam, +tiger-lilies, sweet-william, bachelor-buttons, pinks, holly-hocks, and +the like--a wonderland to him then--a strange and haunting pleasure now +as he walked these graveled ways and mingled the memories of the old +with the vivid impressions of the new. + +Back to the house they came at last to luncheon, and there, sitting in +the beautiful dining-room, so cool, so spacious, so singularly tasteful +in every detail, they gazed upon each other in a delight which was +tinged with pain. Such perfection of appointment, such service, all for +them (two beggars), was more than embarrassing; it provoked a sense of +guilt. The pretty, low-voiced, soft-soled maid came and went, bringing +exquisite food in the daintiest dishes (enough food for six), +anticipating every want, like the fairy of the story-books. "Mother," +said the youth, "this is a story!" + +Mrs. Ollnee was accustomed to the splendor of Mrs. Joyce's house, but +she was almost as much moved as Victor. She perceived the difference +between the old-world simplicity of this flawless establishment and the +lavish, tasteless hospitality of men like Pettus. + +Who had planned and organized this wide-walled, low-toned room, this +marvelously effective cuisine? How was it possible for such service to +go on during the master's absence with apparently the same unerring +precision of detail? + +These questions remained unanswered, and they rose at last with a sense +of having been, for the moment at least, in the seats of those who +command the earth wisely. + +Hardly were they returned to their hammocks on the porch when a swiftly +driven car turned in at the gate. + +"It is Louise!" exclaimed Mrs. Ollnee. + +"And Leo!" added Victor. + +With streaming veils the travelers swept up to the carriage steps +covered with dust, yet smiling. + +"How are you?" called Mrs. Joyce; and then with true motor spirit, +addressed the driver: "What's the time, Denis?" + +"Two hours and ten minutes from North Avenue." + +"Not so bad, considering the roads." + +Leo had sprung out and was throwing off her cloak and veil. "I hope +we're not too late for luncheon. Mr. Bartol has the _best_ cook, and I'm +famished." + +Her coming swept Victor back into his other and normal self, and he took +charge of her with a mingling of reverence and audacity which charmed +her. He went out into the dining-room with her and sat beside her while +she ate. "I hope you're going to stay," he said, earnestly. + +"Stay! Of course we'll stay. It's hot as July in the city--always is +with the wind from the southwest. Isn't it heavenly out here?" + +"Heavenly is the word; but who did it? Who organized it?" + +"Mrs. Bartol. She had the best taste of any one--and her way with the +servants was beyond imitation. They all worship her memory." + +"I can't make myself believe I deserve all this," he said. "Your coming +puts the frosting on my bun." + +It was as if some new and utterly different spirit, or band of them, had +come with this glowing girl. She radiated the vitality and the melody of +youth. Without being boisterous or silly, she filled the house with +laughter. "There's something about Hazeldean that always makes me happy. +I don't know why," she said. + +"You make all who inhabit this house happy," said Mrs. Ollnee. "I can +hear spirit laughter echoing to yours." + +"Can you? Is it Margaret?" + +"Yes, Margaret and Philip." + +Victor did not smile; on the contrary, his face darkened, and Mrs. Joyce +changed the tone of the conversation by asking: "Did you see the paper +this morning? They say you have skipped to join Pettus." This seemed so +funny that they all laughed, till Victor remembered that both these +women had lost much money through Pettus. + +Mrs. Joyce sobered, too. "The Star is against you, Lucy, and you must +keep dark for a time. They are denouncing you as a traitor and all the +rest of it. Did Paul, or any one, advise you last night?" + +"No, nothing was said. I suppose they are considering the matter also. +Those deceiving spirits must be hunted out and driven away." + +"I'm going to lie down for a while," Mrs. Joyce announced. "My old +waist-line is jolted a bit out o' plumb. Leo, will you stretch out, +too?" + +"No indeed. What I need is a walk or a game of tennis. I'm cramped from +sitting so long." + +So it fell out that Victor (penniless youth, hedged about with invisible +walls, pikes, and pitfalls) was soon galloping about a tennis court in +the glories of a new pair of flannel trousers and a lovely blue-striped +outing shirt, trying hard not to win every game from a very good +partner, who was pouting with dismay while admiring his skill. + +"It isn't right for any one to 'serve' as weird a ball as you do," she +protested. "It's like playing with loaded dice. I begin to understand +why you were not renowned as a scholar." + +"Oh, I wasn't so bad! I stood above medium." + +"How could you? It must have taken all your time to learn to play tennis +in the diabolical way you do--it's conjury, that's what it is!" + +They were in the shade, and the fresh sweet wind, heavy with the scent +of growing corn and wheat, swept steadily over the court, relieving it +from heat, and Victor clean forgot his worriments. This girlish figure +filled his eyes with pictures of unforgetable grace and charm. The swing +of her skirts as she leaped for the ball, the free sweep of her arm (she +had been well instructed), and the lithe bending of her waist brought +the lover's sweet unease. When they came to the net now and again, he +studied her fine figure with frank admiration. "You are a corker!" was +his boyish word of praise. "I don't go up against many men who play the +game as well as you do. Your 'form' is a whole lot better than mine. I +am a bit lucky, I admit. You see, I studied baseball pitching, and I +know the action of a whirling sphere. I curve the ball--make it 'break,' +as the English say. I can make it do all kinds of 'stunts.'" + +"I see you can, and I'll thank you not to try any new ones," she +protested. "Can you ride a horse?" + +His face fell a bit. "There I am a 'mutt,'" he confessed. "I never was +on a horse except the wooden one in the Gym." + +"I'm glad I can beat you at something," she said, with exultant cruelty. +"I know you can row." + +"Shall we try another set?" he asked. + +"Not to-day, thank you. My self-respect will not stand another such +drubbing. I'm going in for a cold plunge. After that you may read to me +on the porch." + +"I'll be there with the largest tome in the library," he replied. + +Mrs. Joyce stopped him as he was going up-stairs to his room. "Victor, +don't worry about me. While it looks as though I have lost a good deal +of money through Pettus, I am by no means bankrupt. I am just about +where I was when I met your mother. She has not enriched me--I mean The +Voices have not--neither have they impoverished me. It's just the same +with Leo. She's almost exactly where she was when she came East. It +would seem as if they had been playing with us just to show us how +unsubstantial earthly possessions are." + +There was a certain comfort in this explanation, and yet the fact that +her losses had not eaten in upon her original capital did not remove the +essential charge of dishonesty which the man Aiken had brought against +the ghostly advisers. Florence and Thomas Aiken could not afford to be +so lenient. They were disinherited, cheated of their rightful legacy, by +the lying spirits. + +He was anxious, also, to know just how deeply Leo was involved in the +People's Bank; and when she came down to the porch he led her to a +distant chair beside a hammock on the eastern side of the house, and +there, with a book in his hand, opened his interrogations. + +He began quite formally, and with a well-laid-out line of questions, but +she was not the kind of witness to permit that. She broke out of his +boundaries on the third query, and laughingly refused to discuss her +losses. "I am holding no one but myself responsible," she said. "I was +greedy--I couldn't let well enough alone, that's all." + +"No, that is not all," he insisted. "My mother is charged with advising +people to put money into the hands of a swindler--" + +"I don't believe that. I think she was honest in believing that Pettus +would enrich us all. She was deceived like the rest of us." + +"But what becomes of the infallible Voices?" + +She laughed. "They are fallible, that's all. They made a gross blunder +in Pettus." + +"Mr. Bartol suggests that my mother may have been hypnotized by Pettus +and made to work his will, and I think he's right. He thinks the whole +thing comes down to illusion--to hypnotic control and telepathy." + +She looked thoughtful. "I had a stage of believing that; but it doesn't +explain all, it only explains a small part. Does it explain Altair to +you?" + +His glance fell. "Nothing explains Altair--nor that moaning wind--nor +the writing on the slates." + +"And the letter--have you forgotten that?" + +"Half an hour ago, as we were playing tennis, I _had_ forgotten it. I +was cut loose from the whole blessed mess--now it all comes back upon me +like a cloud." + +"Oh, don't look at it that way. That's foolish. I think it's glorious +fun, this investigating." + +He acknowledged her rebuke, but added, "It would be more fun if the +person under the grill were not one's own mother." + +"That's true," she admitted; "and yet, I think you can study her without +giving offense. I began in a very offensive way--I can see that now--but +she met my test, and still meets every test you bring. The faith she +represents isn't going to have its heart plucked out in a hurry, I can +tell you that." + +"The immediate thing is to defend her against this man Aiken. Mr. Bartol +said he would order up a lot of books, and I'm to cram for the trial. If +you have any book to suggest, I wish you'd write its title down for me." + +"What's the use of going to books? The judges will want the facts, and +you'll have to convince them that she is what she claims to be." + +"How can we do that? We can't exhibit her in a trance?" + +"You might. Perhaps her guides will give her the power." She glowed with +anticipatory triumph. "Imagine her confounding the jury! Wouldn't that +be dramatic! It would be like the old-time test of fire." + +He was radiant, too, for a moment, over the thought. Then his face grew +stern. "Nothing like that is going to happen. She would fail, and that +would leave us in worse case than before. Our only hope is to convince +the jury that she is not responsible for what her Voices say. We've got +to show she's auto-hypnotic." + +"I hope the trial will come soon." + +"So do I, for here I am eating somebody else's food, with no prospect of +earning a cent or finding out my place in the world. I don't know just +what my mother's idea was in educating me in classical English instead +of some technical course, but I'm perfectly certain that I'm the most +helpless mollusk that was ever kicked out of a school." + +Real bitterness was in his voice, and she hastened to add a word of +comfort. "All you need is a chance to show your powers." + +"What powers?" + +"Latent powers," she smiled. "We are all supposed to have latent powers. +I am seeking a career, too." + +He forgot himself in a return of his admiration of her. "Oh, you don't +have to seek. A girl like you has her career all cut out for her." + +She caught his meaning. "That's what I resent. Why should a woman's +career mean only marriage?" + +"I don't know--I guess because it's the most important thing for her to +do." + +"To be some man's household drudge or pet?" + +"No, to be some man's inspiration." + +"Fudge! A woman is never anybody's inspiration--after she's married." + +"How cynical you are! What caused it?" + +"Observing my married friends." + +"Oh, I am relieved! I was afraid it was through some personal +experience--" + +This seemed funny to them both, and they laughed together. "There's +nothing of 'the maiden with reluctant feet' about me," she went on. "I +simply refuse to go near the brink. I find men stupid, smelly, and +coarse." + +"I hate girls in the abstract--they giggle and whisper behind their +hands and make mouths; but there is one girl who is different." He tried +to be very significant at the moment. + +She ignored his clumsy beginning of a compliment. "All the girls who +giggle should marry the men who 'crack jokes'--that's my advice." + +"'Pears like our serious conversation is straggling out into +vituperation." + +"Whose fault is it?" + +"Please don't force me to say it was not my fault. I'm like Lincoln--I +joke to hide my sorrows." + +"Don't be irreverent." + +Through all this youthful give and take the boy and girl were studying +each other minutely, and the phrases that read so baldly came from their +lips with so much music, so much of hidden meaning (at least with +displayed suggestion), that each was tingling with the revelation of it. +The words of youth are slight in content; it is the accompanying tone +that carries to the heart. + +She recovered first. "Now let's stop this school-boy chatter--" + +"You mean school-girl chatter." + +"Both. Your mother is in a very serious predicament. We must help her." + +He became quite serious. "I wish you would advise me. You know so much +more about the whole subject than I do. I'm eager to get to work on the +books. I suppose it is too much to expect that they will come up +to-day?" + +"They might. I'll go and inquire." + +"No indeed, let me go. Am I not an inmate here?" He disappeared into the +house, leaving her to muse on his face. He began to interest her, this +passionate, self-willed, moody youth. She perceived in him the soul of +the conqueror. His swift change of temper, his union of sport-loving boy +and ambitious man made him as interesting as a play. "He'll make his +way," she decided, using the vague terms of prophecy into which a girl +falls when regarding the future of a young man. It's all so delightfully +mysterious, this path of the youth who makes his way upward to success. + +A shout announced his return, and looking up she perceived him bearing +down upon her with an armful of books. + +"Here they are!" he exulted. "Red ones, blue ones, brown ones--which +shall we begin on?" + +"Blue--that's my color." + +"Agreed! Blue it is." He dumped them all down on the wide, swinging +couch and fell to turning them over. "Dark blue or light blue?" + +"Dark blue." + +He picked up a fat volume. "_Mysterious Psychic Forces._ Know this +tome?" + +"Oh yes, indeed! It's wonderfully interesting." + +"I choose it! This color scheme simplifies things. Now, here's +another--_The Dual Personality_. How's that?" + +"Um! Well--pretty good." + +"_Dual Personality_ to the rear. Here's a brown book--_Metaphysical +Phenomena_." + +"That's a good one, too." + +"I'm sorry they didn't bind it in blue--and here's a measly, yellow, +paper-bound book in some foreign language--Italian, I guess, author, +Morselli." + +"Oh, that's a book I want to read. Let me take it?" + +"Do you read Italian?" + +"After a fashion." + +"Then I engage you at once to translate that book to me. What is it all +about?" + +He abandoned his seat on the couch and drew a chair close to hers. +"Begin at the first page and read very slowly all the way through. I +wish it were a three volume edition." + +She looked at him with side glance. "You're not in the least subtle." + +"I intended to have you understand that I enjoy the thought of your +reading to me. Did you catch it?" + +"I caught it. No one else ever suggested that I was stupid." + +"I didn't call you stupid. I think you're haughty and domineering, but +you're not stupid." + +"Thank you," she answered, demurely. + +Eventually they drew together, and she began to read the marvelous story +of the crucial experiments which Morselli and his fellows laid upon +Eusapia Palladino. Two hours passed. The robins and thrushes began their +evensong, the shadows lengthened on the lawn, and still these young folk +remained at their reading--Victor sitting so close to his teacher's side +that his cheek almost touched her shoulder. The sunset glory of the +material world was forgotten in the tremendous conceptions called up by +the author of this far-reaching book. + +Sweeter hours of study Victor never had. Seeing the rise and fall of his +interpreter's bosom and catching the faint perfume of her hair, he heard +but vaguely some of the sentences, and had to have them repeated, what +time her eyes were looking straight into his. At such moment she +reminded him of the dream-face that had bloomed like a rose in the black +night, for she was then very grave. Less ardent of blood than he, she +succeeded in giving her whole mind to the great Italian's thesis, and +the point of view--so new and so bold--stirred her like a trumpet. + +"I like this man," she said. "He is not afraid." + +Once or twice Mrs. Joyce looked out at them, but they made such a pretty +picture she had not the heart to disturb them. + +At seven o'clock she was forced to interrupt: "What _are_ you children +up to?" + +"Improving our minds," answered Leo. "Are we starting back? What time is +it?" + +Mrs. Joyce smiled. "That question is a great compliment to your company. +It's dinner-time." + +"Are we starting now?" + +"No; we're going to stay all night." + +"Fine!" shouted Victor. "I was wondering how I could put in the +evening." + +"It's time to dress," warned Mrs. Joyce. "This is no happy-go-easy +establishment. I never saw such perfection of service as Alexander +always has. I can't get it, or if I get it I can't keep it; while here, +with the master gone half the time, the wheels go like a chronometer." + +"It's all due to Marie. She worshiped Mrs. Bartol, and she venerates Mr. +Bartol." + +Mrs. Joyce cut her short. "Skurry to your room. We must not be late." + +As they were going into the house together, Leo said: "I think we would +better not let our elders read this book of Morselli's. It's too +disturbing for them--don't you think so?" + +"It certainly is a twister. However, mother doesn't read any foreign +language, so she's safe." + + + + +XII + +A MOONLIGHT CALL AND A VISION + + +Upon rising from the dinner table the young people returned to their +books, and at ten o'clock Leo lifted her eyes from her page. "Did some +one drive up?" + +Victor looked at her dazedly. "I didn't hear anybody. Proceed." + +"Mercy! It's ten o'clock. Where are Aunt Louise and your mother? I hear +Mr. Bartol's voice!" she exclaimed, rising hastily. "Let's go get the +latest news." + +The master of the house entered before the young people could shake off +the spell of what they had been imagining. + +"What a waste of good moonlight!" he exclaimed, with smiling sympathy. +"Why aren't you youngsters out on the lawn?" + +"It's all your fault," responded Leo. "We've been absorbing one of the +books you sent up." + +"Have you? It must have been a wonderful romance. I can't conceive of +anything but a love-story keeping youth indoors on a night like this." + +Victor defended her. "We've been reading of Morselli's wonderful +experiments. It's in Italian, and Miss Wood has been translating it for +me." + +"What luck you have!" exclaimed Mr. Bartol. "I engage her to +re-translate it for me at the same rate." + +Mrs. Ollnee and Mrs. Joyce came in as he was speaking, and Mrs. Joyce, +after disposing herself comfortably, said, "Well, what is your report?" + +He confessed that he had been too busy with other matters to give the +Aiken accusation much thought. "However, I sent an armful of books out +to my assistant attorney." He waved his hand toward Victor. + +"You don't mean to read books," protested Mrs. Joyce, energetically, +"when you've the very source of all knowledge right here in your own +house? Why don't you study your client and convince yourself of her +powers?--then you'll know what to do and say." + +"I had thought of that," he said, hesitantly. "But--" + +"You need not fear," Mrs. Joyce assured him. "It's true Lucy cannot +always furnish the phenomena on the instant. In fact, the more eager she +is the more reluctant the forces are; but you can at least try, and she +is not only willing but eager for the test." + +Bartol turned to Mrs. Ollnee. "Are you prepared now--to-night?" he +asked. + +"Yes, this moment," she answered. + +Mrs. Joyce exulted. "The power is on her. I can see that. See how her +hand trembles! One finger is signaling. Don't you see it?" + +Mr. Bartol rose. "Come with me into my study. Mrs. Joyce may come some +other time. I do not want any witnesses to-night," he added, with a +smile. + +Victor watched his mother go into Bartol's study with something of the +feeling he might have had in seeing her enter the den of a lion. She +seemed very helpless and very inexperienced in contrast with this great +inquisitor, so skilled in cross-examination, so inexorable in logic, so +menacing of eye. + +Leo, perceiving Victor's anxiety, proposed that they return to the +porch, and to this he acceded, though it seemed like a cowardly +desertion of his mother. "Poor little mother," he said. "If she stands +up against him she's a wonder." + +The girl stretched herself out on the swinging couch, and the youth took +his seat on a wicker chair close beside her. Mrs. Joyce kept at a decent +distance, so that if the young people had anything private to say she +might reasonably appear not to have overheard it. + +Talk was spasmodic, for neither of them could forget for a moment the +duel which was surely going on in that inner room. Indeed, Mrs. Joyce +openly spoke of it. "If Lucy is not too anxious, too eager, she will +change Alexander's whole conception of the universe this night." + +"Of course you're exaggerating, Aunt Louise; but I certainly expect her +to shake him up." + +"It only needs one genuine phenomenon to convince him of her sincerity. +What a warrior for the cause he would make! She must stay right here in +his house till she utterly overwhelms him. He took up her case at first +merely because I asked him to do so; but he likes her, and is ready to +take it up on her own account if he finds her sincere. But I want him to +believe in the philosophy she represents." + +Half an hour passed with no sign from within, and Mrs. Joyce began to +yawn. "That ride made me sleepy." + +"Why don't you go to bed?" suggested Leo. + +She professed concern. "And leave Lucy unguarded?" + +"Nonsense! Go to bed and sleep. Mr. Ollnee and I will stand guard till +the ordeal is ended." + +"I believe I'll risk it," decided Mrs. Joyce. "I can hardly keep my eyes +open." + +"Nor your mouth shut," laughed Leo. "Hasten, or you'll fall asleep on +the stair." + +Left alone, the young people came nigh to forgetting that the world +contained aught but dim stretches of moonlit greensward, dewy trees, and +the odor of lilac blooms. In the dusk Victor stood less in fear of the +girl, and she, moved by the witchery of the night and the melody of his +voice (into which something new and masterful had come), grew less +defiant. "How still it all is?" she breathed, softly. "It is like the +Elysian Fields after the city's noise and grime." + +"It's more beautiful out there." He motioned toward the lawn. "Let's +walk down the drive." + +And she complied without hesitation, a laugh in her voice. "But not too +far. Remember, we are guardian angels." + +As she reached his side he took her arm and tucked it within his own. +"You might get lost," he said, in jocular explanation of his action. + +"How considerate you are!" she scornfully responded, but her hand +remained in his keeping. + +There were no problems now. Down through the soft dusk of the summer +night they strolled, rapturously listening to the sounds that were +hardly more than silences, feeling the touch of each other's garments, +experiencing the magic thrill which leaps from maid to man and man to +maid in times like these. + +"How big you are!" exclaimed the girl. "I didn't realize how much you +overtopped me. I am considered tall." + +"And so you are--and divinely fair." + +"How banal! Couldn't you think of a newer one?" + +"It was as much as ever I remembered, that. I'm not a giant in poetry. +I'm a dub at any fine job." + +Of this quality was their talk. To those of us who are old and dim-eyed, +it seems of no account, perhaps, but to those who can remember similar +walks and talks it is of higher worth than the lectures in the Sorbonne. +Learning is a very chill abstraction on such a night to such a pair. +Would we not all go back again to this sweet land of love and +longing--if we could? + +Victor did not deliberately plan to draw Leonora closer to his side, and +the proud girl did not intend to permit him to do so; but somehow it +happened that his arm stole round her waist as they walked the shadowy +places of the drive, and their laggard feet were wholly out of rhythm to +their leaping pulses. + +The proof of Victor's naturally dependable character lay in the fact +that he presumed no further. He was content with the occasional touch of +her rounded hip to his, the caressing touch of her skirt as it swung +about his ankle. To have attempted a kiss would have broken the spell, +would have alarmed and repelled her. He honored her, loved her, but he +was still in awe of her proud glance and the imperious carriage of her +head. He preferred to think she suffered rather than invited the clasp +of his arm. + +She, on her part, was astonished and a little scared by her own +complaisant weakness, and as they came out into the lighter part of the +walk she disengaged herself with a self-derisive remark, and asked, "Do +you always take such good care of the arms of your girl friends?" + +"Always," he replied, instantly, though his heart was still in the +clutch of his new-born passion. + +"I shall be on my guard next time.... I see Mr. Bartol in the doorway. +Don't you think we'd better go in? What time do you suppose it is?" + +"The saddest time in the world for me if you are going to leave me." + +"Don't be maudlin." She had recovered her self-command, and was disposed +to be extra severe. "Sentimental nothings is hardly your strong point." + +"What is my strong point?" + +She was ready with an answer. "Plain down-right impudence." + +He, too, was recovering speech. "I'm glad I have _one_ strong trait. I +was afraid there was nothing about me to make a definite impression on a +proud beauty like you." + +"Please don't try to be literary. Stick to your oars and your baseball +raquet." + +"Bat," he corrected. + +"I meant bat." + +"I know you did; but you said raquet." + +In this juvenile spat they approached the porch where Mr. Bartol stood +waiting for them. + +"Young people," he called, in a voice that somehow voiced a deep +emotion, "do you realize that it is midnight?" + +Protesting their amazement, they mounted the steps and entered the +house; but the moment they looked into their host's face they became +serious, perceiving that something very tremendous had taken place in +his laboratory. + +"What has happened?" asked Leo. "What did she do?" + +"I don't know yet," he replied, strangely inconclusive in tone and +phrase. "I must think it all over. If I can persuade myself that the +marvels which I have witnessed are realities, the universe is an +entirely new and vastly different machine for me." + +Thrilling to the excitement in his face and in his voice, they passed +on. At the top of the stairs Leo faced Victor with eyes big with +excitement. "What do you suppose came to him?" + +"I haven't an idea. He seemed terribly wrought up, though." + +"We must say good-night." She held out her hand, and he took it. + +"This has been the finest, most instructive day of my life." + +She released her hand with a little decisive, dismissing movement. "How +nice of you! Signor Morselli should know of it. Good-night!" And the +smile with which she left him was delightfully provoking and mirthful. + +Victor would have gone straight to his mother had he known where to +find her, for he was eager to know what had taken place in the deeps of +Bartol's study. That she had been able to mystify the great lawyer, he +was convinced; and yet, perhaps, this was only temporary. "He will go +further. What will he find?" + +He was standing before his dresser slowly removing his collar and tie +when the door opened and his mother entered. She was abnormally wide +awake, and her eyes, violet in their intensity, betrayed so much +excitement that he exclaimed: "Why, mother, what's the matter? What kind +of a session did you have? What has happened to you?" + +"Victor, father tells me that Mr. Bartol will be convinced. He is the +greatest mind I have ever met. If I can bring him to a belief in the +spirit world it will be the most important victory of my life." + +"What did he say to you? What did he think?" + +"I don't know; and strange to say, I cannot read his mind. He seems +convinced of the phenomena, and yet I can't tell for certain. He was +skeptical at the beginning, as nearly every one is." + +Hitherto, at every such opening, Victor had rushed in to pluck the heart +out of her mystery, but now he restrained himself, for fear of trapping +her into some admission, which would make his own testimony more +difficult in court. He took a seat on the bed and regarded her with +meditative eyes, and she went on. + +"The Voices are clamoring round me still. They want to speak to you." + +"I don't want to hear them--not to-night," he replied, coldly. "Tell +them to wait and talk to me when Mr. Bartol is listening." + +She seemed disappointed and a little hurt by his tone. "Altair is here. +She wishes most to speak." + +Interest awoke in him. "What does she want of me?" + +She listened. "She says, '_Trust Mr. Bartol._'" + +He could see nothing, hear nothing, therefore his face lost its light. + +"Well, we've got to trust him. He's all the help in sight." + +Something, a breath, the light caress of a hand, passed over his hair, +and a whisper that was almost tone spoke in his ear, "_Fear nothing, if +you will be guided and protected._" + +Sweet as this voice was, it irritated him, for he could not disassociate +his mother from it. Indeed, it had something subtly familiar in its +utterance, and yet he could not accuse her of deceit. He only roughly +said: "Don't do that! I don't like that!" + +Silence followed, and then his mother sadly said: "You have hurt her. +She will not speak again." + +"Let her show herself. How do I know who is speaking to me? Let me see +her face again." He added this in a gentler voice, being moved by a +vivid memory of the exquisite picture Altair had made. + +After another pause Mrs. Ollnee answered: "She will do so. She says +soon. She has gone; but your father wants to speak to you." + +Victor rose impatiently. "Tell him to come again some other time. I'm +sleepy now." + +She turned away saddened by his manner, and with a gentle "good-night" +went softly from the room. + +Victor regretted his bluntness, but could not free himself from a +feeling that his mother's Voices were deceptive or imaginary, and her +visit hurt and disgusted him so deeply that the charm of his evening's +companionship with Leo was all but lost. "Part of her phenomena are +real, but these Voices--" He broke off and went to his bed with a vague +feeling of loss weighing him down. + +For a half-hour he lay in growing bitterness, and then quite suddenly he +thought he detected a thin, blue vapor rising from the rag rug at the +side of his bed, and for an instant he was startled. "Is it smoke? Or do +I imagine it?" As it rose and sank, expanded and contracted, he studied +it closely. It was not smoke, for it did not ascend. It was more like +filmy drapery tossed by a wind from a hidden aperture in the floor. +Motionless, amazed, and awed, he watched it, till out of it the face of +a woman looked, her wistful eyes touched with an accusing sorrow. It +was Altair, and her form became more real from moment to moment, until +at last he could detect the swell of her bosom, draped with the folds of +a shimmering white robe. As he waited a hand appeared at her side, +vaguely outlined, yet alive. He could see the fingers loosely clasped +about a rose. She was so beautiful that he lay gazing at her in +speechless wonder. "Am I dreaming?" he asked himself. "I _must_ be +dreaming." And yet he could feel the air from the window. + +In the light of her glance he forgot all his other loves and cares. His +worship for her returned like swift hunger, and he yearned to touch her, +to hear her voice. "She is a dream," he decided, and his hand, lifted to +test the vision, fell back upon the coverlet. + +As if reading his thought, Altair put out her right arm and touched his +wrist with a caress like the stroke of a beam of moonlight, so light and +cold it was. + +"_Victor_," she seemed to say, and his whisper was almost as light as +her own. + +"Who are you?" + +"_Don't you know me? I am Altair. Do not forget me._" + +"I will not forget you," he answered. "I can't forget you. Why do you +look so sad?" + +"_It is cold and empty where I dwell. I come to you for happiness and +warmth. You had forgotten me. You would not listen to my voice._" Her +reproach moved him almost to tears. + +"I could not see you. I was not sure." + +"_I do not accuse you. It is natural for you to love. When the day comes +you will seek another. One whose flesh is warm. Mine is cold. She is of +the day. I am of the night. But do not refuse to speak to me._" + +Her bust had grown fuller, more complete as she spoke, and yet from the +waist downward she seemed but a trailing garment of convoluting, +phosphorescent gauze. Her left hand still hung at her side, vague, +diaphanous, but her right lay upon her breast, as beautiful, as real as +firelit ivory, and her face seemed to glow as though with some inward +radiance. + +Victor could follow the exquisite line of her brow, and her eyes were +glorious pools of color, deep and dark with mystery and passion. Slowly +she sank as if kneeling, her stately head lowered, bent above him, and +he felt the touch of soft lips upon his own--a kiss so warm, so human +that it filled his heart with worship. Gently he lifted his hand, +seeking to draw her to him, and for an instant he felt her pliant body +in the circle of his arms--then she dissolved, vanished--like some +condensation of the atmosphere, and he was left alone, aching with +longing and despair. + +For a long time he waited, hoping she would return. He saw the moonlight +fade from the carpet. He heard the night wind amid the maple leaves, and +he knew he had not been dreaming, for that strange Oriental perfume +lingered in the air, and on the coverlet where her exquisite hand had +rested a white bloom lay, mystic and wonderful. He lifted it, and its +breath, sweeter than that of any other flower he had ever held, filled +him with instant languor and happy release of care. + +His next perception was that of sunlight. It was morning, and the kine +and fowls were astir. + +He looked for the mysterious flower, but it was gone. He sprang from his +bed and searched the room for it. "It did not exist," he sadly +concluded. "It has returned to the mysterious world from whence it +came." + +For a long time afterward he suffered with a sense of loss, while the +sunlight deepened in his room and the sounds of the barn-yard brought +back to him the realization that he was in effect a fugitive in the +house of a stranger. Slowly the normal action of his mind and body +resumed its sway, and he dressed, quite sure that something abnormal had +brought this vision to him. He wondered if he, too, were getting +mediumistic. "Am I to be a son of my mother? Am I to hear voices and see +visions?" he asked himself, with a note of alarm. He began to fear the +disintegrating effects of these experiences. His personality; his body +hitherto so solid, so stable, seemed about to develop disturbing +capabilities. + +He was profoundly pleased and reassured to find on his dressing-room +table a large white rose, a rose precisely like that which had been +laid upon his coverlet by the hand of the dream-woman. It's odor was the +same, and its petals were as fresh as if it had just been cut. It +reassured him by convincing him that his vision was real--that it had a +basis of physical change; but it also started a perplexing chain of +thought. "How came the rose here? Who brought it?" was his question. "It +certainly was not there when I went to bed." + +With the flower in his hand, he still stood looking down at the place +where the hand of Altair had rested--still marveling at this mingling of +the real and the fantastic, the dream and the rose, when something +shining revealed itself half concealed by the pillow; and putting out +his hand he took up a little brooch of turquoise set with diamonds, +which he recognized instantly as one that Leo had worn at her throat +when she said good-night. + +Sinking into a chair, he stared now at the jewel, now at the rose, while +a thrill of pride, of mastery, of joy stole through him. His blood +warmed. His heart quickened its beat. Could it be that Leo had been his +visitor? Was it possible that she, burning with hidden love of him, had +stolen to his room, and there at his bedside, masking herself as Altair, +had bent to his drowsy eyes, and laid upon his lips that fervid kiss? +The thought confused him, overpowered him, exalted him. + +His was a chivalrous nature, therefore this act, at the moment, seemed +neither unmaidenly nor wrong--indeed, it appeared very beautiful in his +eyes. It humbled him, made him wonder if he were worth the risk she had +run? He was not abnormally self-appreciative, but he had not been left +unaware of his appeal to women. His previous love-affairs had been those +of the undergraduate, proceeding under the jocular supervision of his +watchful fellows. His present case was in wholly different spirit. He +was a man now--in fact, his quarrel with Leo from the first had been +over her evident determination to treat him as a lad. + +The memory of her serene self-possession made her self-surrender of the +night all the more amazing to him. "It is cold and empty where I dwell," +she had said. This meant that she loved him--longed for him--it could +mean nothing else. Her love had begun during their ride on the lagoon, +in their delicious drowse on the grass. It had been deepened by their +afternoon of sweet companionship at tennis and over their books; then +came the walk in the moonlight and her acceptance of his caress in the +dusky place in the path--all were preparatory to this final wondrous +visit and confession. + +And yet her eyes had never been other than those of a friend. Seemingly +she had laughed at herself for the momentary weakness of yielding to his +arm. Her daylight expression had always been that of the humorous, +self-reliant, rather intellectual girl, who acknowledges no fear of man +and no sudden rush of passion, and yet--How reconcile the facts! + +He smiled to think how he had been deceived by her imperious air, by her +expressed contempt for his interest. "And all the while she was really +waiting for me to break through her reserve," he said; and this +delicious explanation satisfied him for a few moments, till he went +deeper into his memory of what she had said and done. + +He was forced to reassure himself again by the jewel and the rose that +she had really come to him, so dream-like did the whole ethereal episode +now seem. The more he dwelt upon the vision the deeper it moved him. +It's growing significance set his blood aflame. In fiction and poesy +women often sacrifice their reserve, moved by uncontrollable longing, +like the heroine of mad Ophelia's song, because commanded by something +stronger than their sweet selves. It was hard to think of Leo as one +carried out of herself by love--and yet here lay the jewel of her bosom +in his hand! How to meet her puzzled and excited him. + +Up to this minute he had admired her and had paid court to her as a +young man naturally addresses a handsome girl, but he was not violently +in love with her; indeed, she had interested him rather less than a girl +in Winona, daughter of Professor Boyden; but now, as he was about to +meet her in the breakfast-room, she possessed more power, more +significance, than any woman in the world. He recalled how fine and +helpful she had been during the few days of their acquaintance--her +serenity, her good sense, her pungent comment began to seem very +wonderful. + +He looked at himself in the glass, finding there a very good-looking, +stalwart youth, but could not discover anything to account for the +sudden blaze of Leonora's self-sacrificing passion. He was neither a +fool nor a peacock, and he tried to account for her love on the ground +of her regard for his mother. Then, like a flash of light, came the +thought, "She was sleep-walking!" + +He had read of the marvels of hypnotism and somnambulism. Perhaps in +some strange way his mother's desire to have Leo love her son had sent +the girl straight to his bedside. There was something uncanny in her +speech and in her gestures--only in her kiss had she been solidly, +warmly human. + +And yet all this seemed so difficult to believe--and besides, if the +girl came in her sleep, did it not prove her love quite as conclusively? +It might be unconscious, but it was there. + +With heart pounding mightily, and face set and stern, he left his room +and began descending the stairway, uncertain still of the way in which +he should meet her. + +Happily he found no one in the dining-room but the maid, who said to +him, "Mr. Bartol would like to see Mr. Ollnee in his study as soon as +Mr. Ollnee has had his breakfast." + +"Very well," he replied; "I will make short work of breakfast this +morning." + +As he sat thus awaiting Leo, his mind filled with the wonder of her +self-surrender, he considered carefully in what way he should greet her. +"She must not know that I know," he decided. "I will greet her as if I +had not found the brooch, and I will leave it where she will happen upon +it accidentally." + + + + +XIII + +VICTOR TESTS HIS THEORY + + +He was still at breakfast, deeply engaged with his alluring vision, when +Mrs. Joyce and his mother entered the room. As he rose to greet them +Mrs. Joyce asked, "Have you seen Mr. Bartol?" + +"Not yet--but he is up. I am to see him soon. Where is Leo?" + +"She is not feeling very brisk this morning, and is taking her coffee in +bed." + +He said no more, but resumed his seat, richer by this added proof of the +deep perturbation through which the girl had passed. He was +disappointed, and eager to see her, but the conviction that she had been +sleepless from love of him put him among the clouds. He would have +forgotten his appointment with Bartol had not the maid reminded him of +it. Even then he tried to avoid it. "You're sure he wanted me? Didn't he +mean my mother?" + +"I'm quite sure he said Mister Ollnee." + +"Mother, what do you suppose he wants of me?" + +"I don't know, Victor. Perhaps he wants to talk over the trial." + +"Come back and tell us as soon as you can," commanded Mrs. Joyce. "I'm +crazy to know what he did last night, and what he really thinks of us?" + +Victor promised to report, and went away to his interview with a vague +alarm disturbing the blissful self-satisfaction of the early morning. + +He found Bartol seated at a big table with a writing-pad before him and +four or five open volumes disposed about as if for reference. He, too, +looked old and worn and rather grim, but he greeted his guest politely. +"Good-morning. Have you seen your mother this morning?" + +"Yes, I have just left her at breakfast." + +"How is she?" + +"She seems quite herself--a little pale, perhaps." + +"Be seated, please. I want to go over our case with you. First of all, I +want you to tell me once more, and in full detail, all you know of your +mother's life. Begin at the beginning and leave nothing out. Don't +theorize or try to explain--give me the facts as you have observed +them." + +This was not the kind of business to which a love-exalted youth would +set himself, but Victor squared himself before the brooding face and +deep-set eyes of his host, and entered once more upon the story of the +"ghost-room," which had been the one dark spot in his childhood, and +which became again in a moment the overshadowing torment of his young +manhood. + +As he talked the intent look of the man before him, his short, sharp, +significant questions inspired him. He poured forth in eloquent and +moving phrase the story of his sudden awakening to a knowledge that his +mother was a paid medium, and under persecution by the press of the +city. He told of his sittings with her, wherein he had savagely +determined to unmask her for her own good. He admitted his complete +failure. He related his experiences during the time she lay in deathly +trance, and his voice lost its smooth flow as he approached the most +marvelous experience of all, when the vast and murmuring wind blew +through the small room and Altair came with sad, sweet face, to bewitch +him and to shake his conceptions of the universe to their foundation +stones. He confessed his bewilderment and confusion, and ended by +saying: "It's all unnatural, diseased. I can't believe it is the real +side of things." + +"I wonder that you kept your head at all," remarked Bartol. "Your youth +and good, hot blood protect you. Have you talked with your mother about +our sitting?" + +"Only a few words. She came to my room last night and told me she had +only a dim recollection of what took place. She said The Voices wanted +to talk to me--but I didn't want them to talk to me--and said so--and +she went away." + +Bartol mused. "Belief is not a matter of evidence; it is a habit of +mind. I find myself unable to follow the evidence of my own senses. My +tests of your mother last night convinced me at the moment that she had +the right to claim supernormal powers. She seemingly turned matter into +a mere abstraction, and made the learning of physicists the chatter of +children." As he spoke his memory of what he had seen freshened and his +excitement increased. His voice deepened and his eyes glowed. "Here are +my notes of what took place, and I have spent the night in comparing my +observations with those of Sir William Crookes concerning the medium +Home. In a certain very real sense the phenomena I witnessed were quite +as marvelous as those Crookes chronicled." He rose and began to walk up +and down the room. "And yet this morning I do not believe--I cannot +believe--that writing was precipitated in a closed book held in my hand, +that a pen rose of its own volition and tapped upon the table. + +"The tendency of any mind, any science, is to harden, to crystallize, to +reach a stopping point. The student is prone to think that the knowledge +of the physical universe which we have must be the larger part of all +that is knowable--and that soon we will have gathered it all into our +text-books. Of course this is the sheerest self-delusion. A little +thought will make clear that all we know is as nothing compared to that +which remains to be known. Up to ten o'clock last night I was one of +those who believe that the domain of nature is pretty thoroughly mapped +out, staked, and plowed by the investigator, but this morning I find my +horizons again extended. It would be foolish to say that an hour's +experiments and a night of reading along new lines had overturned all +the landmarks of biologic science; but I confess that the world for me +has greatly changed. I held in my hand last night a force _in action_ +for which science has no name and no place--and yet thirty years ago Sir +William Crookes wrote of this same force in the spirit with which he +discussed other elements and powers, and yet his testimony is not +accepted by his fellows even to-day. + +"Your mother met every test cheerfully and instantly, and demonstrated +to me, as Home did to Crookes, as Slade did to Zollner, that matter, as +we think we know it, does not exist. She convinced me not merely of her +honesty, but of her high powers as a psychic. A calm, persistent, +logical purpose ran through all her manifestations, and her +Voices--whatever they may mean to you--advised me to sit again with her +and to have you and Miss Wood, Mrs. Joyce, and Marie always in the +circle. This I intend to do. I feel at this moment as if no other +business mattered. I have been here at my desk since midnight, reading, +comparing notes, trying to convince myself that I have not gone suddenly +mad. + +"If I was not utterly deceived, if your fresh, keen young eyes are of +any use whatsoever, if the words of Crookes, Wallace, Lombroso, and +their like are of any weight, then we have in your mother a rare and +subtle organism whose powers are of more importance than the rings of +Saturn or the canals of Mars." + +Victor was awed, carried out of himself and his small concerns by the +deep voice of the great lawyer as he formulated his impassioned yet +restrained musings. It was evident that he welcomed this opportunity of +putting his thoughts into words, of ordering his words into argument. +Half in reverie and half in conscious statement to the entranced youth, +he poured forth his troubled soul. + +"I was a materialist when your mother entered my house. I believed that +the man who died went out like a candle. The grave was the end. To me +the so-called revelations of Buddha, Gautama, Christ, were the vague +dreams of the heart-sick, the stricken mourners of the earth--not one of +them brought a beam of hope--but in this modern spirit of +experimentation, in the work of Crookes and his like, I see +a ray of light. Your mother's impersonations of my wife, her +messages--Voices--may be due to mind-reading, to clairvoyance, but _the +method of their delivery_ certainly lies beyond any known law. In that +glows my hope. Grant the possibility of direct writing, of the power of +the mind to _think_ its will upon paper without the aid of hand or pen, +and a whole new world is opened up, the horizons of life are infinitely +extended." + +He paused abruptly. "I was weary of my days. Yesterday I moved as a +creature of habit. This morning it seems that I have a new interest. I +am convinced that in defending your mother I am defending something +precious to the human race; but I must be very sure of my ground. I must +scrutinize every phase of her power, and you must help me. You are young +and well-trained. You have a good mind, and I am persuaded you will go +far. Your mother worships you, lives for you. Now, you and I together +must make such study of her mediumship as America has never seen--a +study which shall have nothing to do with any ism, fad, or prejudice. +Will you help me?" + +Victor, overwhelmed by the confidence of the great lawyer, by the honor +which this plea laid upon his young shoulders, could only stammer, "I +will do my best." + +Bartol thanked him. "I see now, as I never did before, that this power +is a subtle, personal, psychical adjustment, and the part you are to +play is a double one. First, you are her son, and your presence and +influence are indispensable. Secondly, you are vigorous and alert, +comparatively free from the wrecking effect of bereavement such as +mine. I confess I cannot trust myself in the face of the supposed appeal +of my dead. I am like the doctor who refuses to practise upon his own +child--my desires blind me. At the same time I see that we cannot thrust +strangers upon your mother, especially in her present excited state. +What I propose is a series of private experiments, including chemical +tests, instantaneous photographs, and the like, which shall convince +both judge and jury of the reality of these phenomena. This case will +come before my friend, Judge Matthews, and we have in him a just and +penetrating mind. If I can make him feel my own present conviction we +may rest our case safely with any unprejudiced jury." + +He paused and picked up a volume from the table. "Crookes is explicit. +He says he _saw_ the lath move without visible cause, he _saw_ Home +thrust his hand into the hearth and stir the coals, he _saw_ the +accordion play without any reason; and in all this he is sustained by +other men testing each phenomenon by means of electrical registering +devices. Now we must duplicate these. We must go into court armed with +photographs, records, and witnesses. We will make this a _cause +celebre_--doing our small part to forward this superb and fearless +European movement. I intend to be both lawyer and physicist hereafter," +he ended, with a smile. + +That the great lawyer was now completely engaged upon his mother's +defense Victor exultantly perceived, and it gave him a feeling of pride +and security, but this was followed by a sense of being uprooted. The +sight of this man, inspired yet confounded by what had come to him in a +single sitting, brought new and disturbing force to all that had +happened to himself. Was it possible that thought could be precipitated +like dew upon a sheet of paper? + +"Now," resumed Bartol, "I have made a further discovery. There is a +brotherhood of what we may call true experimentalists--beginning with +Marc, Thury, and the Count de Gasparin, and running to Flammarion and +Richet, in Paris; the Dialectical Society, Sir William Crookes, Alfred +Russell Wallace, Sir Oliver Lodge, in England; thence back to the +Continent, to Zollner, Aksakof, Ochorowicz, De Rochas, Maxwell, +Morselli, and Lombroso. I need a condensed record of these experiments, +and a synopsis of each theory. Once within this group, you will learn by +cross-reference the names of all those whom each of these +experimentalists regard as reliable. You can work here or take the books +to your room--perhaps, on the whole, Morselli's record is first in +importance. Bring me a clear and full abstract of that as soon as you +can." + +"I do not read Italian," confessed Victor; "but Leo--Miss Wood--does; +perhaps she will help me." + +"Very good. Now as to the mechanical side of this matter. I have a +nephew who is an expert photographer and a clever electrician. With your +permission, I will send for him and see what he can do. He is a man of +high standing in his profession, and a quiet personality--one that will +not irritate or alarm your mother. Shall I bring him in and give her +over to all?" + +"Certainly. I'm sure mother wants you to have full charge." + +"Very well. We will set to work at once, for our case may come up this +week. At its lowest terms, the Aiken charge involves--to us--the +admission that our client is highly suggestible and that she has been +used as an unconscious stool-pigeon by Pettus. For the present we must +proceed upon this basis. Suggestion is more or less accepted at the +present time, and we may be able to get the jury to admit our plea; but +I will not conceal from you the fact that your mother stands in danger +of severe punishment. The _Star_ has singled her out as a scapegoat, and +is behind the Aikens. They will push her hard. I do not think they will +follow her here, but if they do I shall send you to my nephew's +home.--Now to Morselli. We must know just where he stands on this +amazing branch of biology. Will you make this synopsis to-day?" + +Victor's eyes glowed with the fire of his awakened pride and resolution. +"If you'll let me help you, Mr. Bartol, I'll show you what my training +has been. I'm quick in some things. I will collate and put in order all +the latest deductions of science--" He stopped. "But what exactly do you +intend to do with my mother?" + +"I mean to confine her in such wise as to demonstrate precisely what she +can do and what she cannot. I must divide what is conscious from that +which is unconscious. I must understand precisely how she produces these +messages, voices, and faces. We are agreed that she is not _consciously_ +deceptive?" He questioned Victor with a glance. + +"I _know_ she is honest." + +"Very well, we must demonstrate her honesty. We must photograph her +so-called materializations side by side with her own body, and we must +register the work of these invisible hands, and in every possible way +demonstrate that she is the medium and not the originating cause of +these messages. In no other way can we save her from disgrace and a +prison cell." + +The youth went away with a humming sound in his head. The thought of his +gentle little mother herded with vile women within the gray walls of a +penitentiary filled him with such horror that his face went drawn and +white. "It shall not be! I will not have it so!" he said, and yet he saw +no other way in which to prevent it. All depended upon the man whose +impassioned words still rang in his ears, and his admiration for the +lawyer rose to that love which youth yields to the highest manhood. + +Mrs. Joyce met him in the hall, excited, eager. "What did he say?" + +Victor passed his hand over his face in bewilderment. "I must think," he +protested. "He said so much--Where is mother?" + +"She is on the porch--waiting. Let us go out to her." + +He followed her with troubled face, but the bright sunshine and the +songs of the birds miraculously restored him. He looked up and down the +piazza hoping to see Leo, but she was not in sight. He took a seat in +silence, and Mrs. Joyce saw his mother grow pale in sympathy as she read +the trouble in his face. + +Mrs. Joyce urged him to tell what had passed between them, and he +replied: + +"I can't do it. All I can say is this: he believes mother is honest, and +that she has some strange power. He will defend her in court; but he +intends to study into the whole business very closely, and he wants us +to help him." + +"Of course we'll help him," responded Mrs. Joyce, readily. + +Mrs. Ollnee went to the heart of the problem. "Just what does he want to +do, Victor?" + +"It is necessary to prove absolutely that you have nothing to do with +these phenomena." + +"But I do have everything to do with them," she replied; "that's what +being a medium means. However, I know what he needs better than you do. +He wants to prove that the messages are supra-normal. Very well, I am +ready for any test." + +"It will be a fierce one, mother. He intends to use electricity and +machines for recording movements and instantaneous photography." + +"I am willing, provided he will proceed in co-operation with your father +and Watts." + +"He will never do that," declared Victor. "He will not begin by granting +the very thing he's trying to prove." + +It was upon this most solemn conference that Leo descended, pale and +restrained, and though Victor sprang up with new-born love in his face, +she did not flush with responding warmth. Her mood of the moonlit walk +had utterly vanished, and he found himself checked, chilled, and thrust +down from his high place of exaltation. + +It was as if she (ashamed of her own weakness) had resolved to punish +him for presumption. He smarted under her indifference, but made no open +protest, though his hand (in the pocket of his coat) rested upon the +jeweled sign of her self-surrender. + +She lost a little of her indifference when she learned that Bartol had +been kept awake all night by the significance of the phenomena he had +witnessed, and she joined heartily in declaring that he must be met in +every demand. "Oh, I wish I might see the experiments," she exclaimed. + +"He wishes you to do so," replied Victor, eagerly. "The Voices told him +to have you in the circle, you and Mrs. Joyce--" + +"And Marie," added Mrs. Ollnee. "Marie is psychic." + +"When do we try?" asked Leo, meeting his eyes a little unsteadily, so it +seemed to him. + +Again Mrs. Ollnee answered for him. "To-night; Mr. Bartol is telephoning +now, arranging for it." + +"How do you know?" asked Victor. + +"Your father is speaking to me." + +"I hear him!" exclaimed Mrs. Joyce, listening intently. + +"What does he say?" asked Leo. + +Mrs. Ollnee again replied. "He says: '_Be brave--trust us. We will +protect you._'" + +Looking across at the girl, in whose cheeks the roses were beginning to +bloom again, the youth resented the interposition of the supernatural. +He was eager to approach her, to hint at the memory of her secret, sweet +embrace. As he studied the exquisite curve of her lips their touch +burned again upon his flesh, and he rose with sudden reassertion of +himself. "Come, Leo, let's return to Morselli." + +He had never called her by her first name before, and it produced a +shock in them both. She looked her reproof, but he pretended not to see +it, and neither Mrs. Joyce nor Mrs. Ollnee seemed to think his +familiarity worthy of remark. + +Leo coldly answered: "I can only give a little time. We must go home +to-day." + +Mrs. Joyce promptly said, "We can't desert the ship now, Leo." + +"But we have nothing to wear!" the girl retorted. + +"We'll send down and have some things brought up. Really, this work for +Mr. Bartol is more important than clothes." + +"I suppose it is," Leo admitted. "But at the same time one should have a +decent regard to the conventions." + +The colloquy which followed filled Victor with dismay. It appeared that +Leo was really eager to get away, as if she felt herself to be in a +false position. "I can't afford to drop my daily affairs in the city. +Why can't these experiments be put off for a day or two." + +"I don't think we ought to ask a great and busy lawyer to accommodate +himself to our piffling social plans," replied Mrs. Joyce. "A few +minutes ago you were wild to join these experiments, now you are crazy +to go home." + +Victor, who imagined himself in full possession of the reason for her +pause, said nothing; but his eyes spoke, and the girl was restless under +his glance. + +She gave in at last. "Well, if you will send for the things I need--" + +Victor had come from Bartol's study mightily resolved to do speedily and +well any work that might fall to his hand, but as he found himself +seated close beside the daylight girl and listening to her voice +transposing Morselli into English his resolution weakened. What were +ghosts, inventions, theories, compared to the satin-smooth curve of the +maiden's cheek or the delicate flutter of her lashes? + +Try as he would, his attention wandered. The book smelled of the clinic, +the girl of the dawn. Morselli's problem was all of the night, while on +every side the young lover beheld trees flashing green mirrors to the +sun, and flowers riding like dainty boats on the billows of a soft +western wind. Moreover, the girl's voice was like to the purling of +brooks. + +Twice she reproved him for his wandering wits and laggard pen, and the +second time he said: "I can't help it. The time and place invite to +other occupations. Let's go for a walk." + +"A brave student, you are!" she mocked. "Mr. Bartol will find you a +valuable aid in his scientific investigations!" + +Her look, her flushed cheek, and the hint of her bosom set him +a-tremble. The memory of his midnight visitor returned, filling him with +springtime madness. + +"Don't you make game of me," he stammered, warningly. "If you +do--I'll--" + +She raised an amused glance. "What? What will you do, boy?" + +"Boy!" Her pose, her smile were challenges that struck home. With swift, +outflung arm, he encircled her waist and drew her to his breast. "Boy, +am I?" + +She beat upon him, pushed him with her small hands. "Let me go, brute!" + +He laughed at her, exulting in his strength. "Oh, I am a brute now, am +I? Well, I'm not. I'm a man and your master. I want a kiss." + +She ceased to struggle, but into her face and voice came something which +paralyzed his arms. Repentant and ashamed, he released her and stood +before her humbly, while she denounced him for "a rowdy with the manners +of a burglar." "This ends our acquaintance," she added, and she spurned +the book on the floor as if it were his worthless self. + +He was scared now, and boyishly pleaded, "Don't go--don't be angry; I +was only joking." + +She knew better than this. She had seen elemental fire flaming from his +eyes, and dared not remain. With proud lift of head she walked away, +leaving him penitent, bewildered, crushed. + + + + +XIV + +THE ORDEAL + + +In truth, Victor had not kept his head--how could he when each day +brought some new temptation, some unexpected danger, or an unforeseen +barrier? Was ever such a week of trial and perplexity thrust upon a +youth? And the worst of it lay in the fact that there were no signs of a +release from these baffling foes. Love's distress now came to add to his +bewilderment and alarm. + +Leo did not appear at luncheon, and her absence gave him great +uneasiness till Mrs. Joyce explained that she had only gone to town to +fetch some needed clothing. He still carried the little breast-pin in +his pocket, but it no longer seemed the gage of a lovely girl's +affection. He began to admit that he might be mistaken, and that his +dream-woman and the jewel had no necessary connection. "One of the +servants may have dropped it there," he now admitted; "and yet how could +that be? It was under my pillow when I woke, and I am sure it was not +there when I went to sleep. Perhaps I am the one who walks in sleep. +Can it be possible that I took it from her room?" + +It was all very puzzling, but he no longer possessed the fatuous +self-conceit necessary to charge Leo with such self-abandonment as the +dream and the discovery of the brooch had at first seemed to indicate. +He sat among his elders at table, silent and depressed, very far from +the triumphant mood of the morning, and yet the stream of his admiration +set toward the absent one with ever stronger current. The most important +thing in all the world, at the moment, was the winning of her forgiving +smile. + +Bartol was equally distraught, and though he remained politely attentive +to his guests, he was plainly absorbed by some inner problem, and left +to Mrs. Joyce the burden of the conversation. + +Mrs. Ollnee, listless and remote, glanced at her host occasionally in +the manner of one who awaits an expected sign. To her son this attitude +on her part was repellant, for he understood it to mean that she was +neither mother nor guest, but an instrument. He wondered whether Bartol +had not, by some overmastering power of the mind, already assumed +control of her thoughts as well as of her actions; and he chafed under +the pressure of his host's abstraction. "Oh, why can't she quit this +business? She must stop it!" he furiously declared. + +Altogether they made a serious and restrained company, and all felt the +loss of Leo. As the meal progressed Mrs. Joyce tried to secure from +Bartol some notion of what his plans were, and he gravely replied: + +"None of you must know. No one shall enter my 'ghost-room' till I am +ready for my tests. In fact, I think I shall send you all out for a +drive this afternoon so that you may not even _hear_ the tap of a +hammer." + +Victor protested that he ought to study, and to this Bartol replied: +"Very well. Take a book with you, but go off the farm. I want to be able +to say that not one of the persons most interested were on the place +while my preparations were going on." + +In truth, the man of law was not merely puzzled by the method of +transmitting the messages; he had been profoundly affected by the words +themselves. His wife and daughter had apparently spoken to him again, +each in distinctive way, upon matters which no one but himself could +recognize. + +But it was not alone what he had himself seen and heard and felt. The +reading to which he had set himself had opened a new world of science +for him. He was amazed at the enormous amount of direct evidence +gathered and presented by careful men. Chemists applying the methods of +the retort, biologists working in their own laboratories, psychologists +and medical experts experimenting as upon a clinical subject, presented +the same or similar facts. In Austria, in Russia, in England, the +results were identical. To his mind, accustomed to sift and relate +evidence, the most convincing thing of all was the substantial agreement +of each and all of these investigators. In a certain sense the sneer of +the faithful was deserved. These men of X-ray penetration and electrical +annunciators had succeeded only in paralleling the phenomena of the +early days of the healer and the magician. + +At its lowest terms--or, as some would say, at its highest terms--Mrs. +Ollnee's power was related to a sort of transcendental physics. Her +magic refilled the most ordinary block of wood or crumb of granite with +all its ancient potency. It widened and deepened the physical universe +inimitably. It discovered the human organism to be unspeakably subtle +and complicate, and made of the soul a visible demonstrable entity. +Unthinkably swift as are the vibrations of the radium ray, this +substance called the brain is capable of receiving, recording, giving +off still more intricate and marvelous motions. Of what avail to call it +"material"? + +At times he glimpsed (as through a narrow opening) unknown regions of +space, not of three or four dimensions, but an infinite number of worlds +within worlds interpenetrating, undying, yet forever changing. At such +moments he perceived that the scientists of to-day were but children +groping among the set scenery of a dark stage, their text-books like +their Bibles, the records of the bewildered and stumbling myriads of +the past. + +"How absurd," he said, "to attempt to make the present conform with the +past! The Hebrew scriptures, the Vedas, the Sagas of the North, are all +useful as records of the aspirations of primitive men, but the real +understanding of the universe is to be obtained now or in the future. +The present contains all that the past has possessed and more. Men are +less of the beast and more of the spirit. Their powers have intensified, +grown psychic, compelling, revealing, and yet the mystery of the +universe remains and must remain." + +In such ways and others his mind ran as he read swiftly through the +wondrous record of experiments made in Rome, in Naples, in Milan. He +liked these Italians better than the greatest of the Englishmen for the +reason that they uttered no apology to the Pope. They proceeded on the +assumption that they were biologists, not priests. They had no care +whether their discoveries harmonized with some man's Bible, or whether +they did not. The question was simple: Could the human organism put +forth from itself a supernumerary hand or arm? Could it project an +etheric double of itself? Could it interpenetrate matter? + +Along these lines he proposed (with Victor's aid) to study his psychic +guest. He had lost sight of the fact that he was to be her defender in +court--or if he remembered it, it was only as a secondary consideration. +He had no faintest hope of directly proving the continued existence of +his wife and children; but he could see that a demonstration of the +power of the living body to project and maintain at a distance an +etheric brain, a voice, made (by inference) a belief in immortality +possible. + +This belief, this possible life of the soul, had nothing to do with the +systems of celestial cosmogony built up by the followers of Christ or +Gautama, its world was not peopled with angels, gods, or devils; it was +merely another and inter-fusing material region wherein the spirit of +man could move, retaining at least a dim memory of the grosser material +plane from which it fled. It was inconceivable, of course, when +scrutinized directly; but he caught a glint of its wonders now and then, +as if from the corner of his half-closed eye. + +These physical marvels were kept very near to him, as he sat at his +desk, by minute tappings on his penholder, on his chair-back, and by +fairy chimes rung on the cut-glass decanter at his elbow. At times he +felt the light touch of hands, and once, as he returned to his seat +after a visit to the library, he found a sheet of strange parchment +thrust under his book, and on this was written in exquisite +old-fashioned script: "_Thou hast thy comfort and thy instrument. Hold +not thy hand._" And it was signed "Aurelius." + +This was all very startling; but he referred it to Mrs. Ollnee herself. +To imagine it a direct message from the dead was beyond him. + +At four o'clock the road-wagon brought from the station a small, alert, +and business-like young fellow, accompanied by various boxes, parcels, +and bags. Bartol met him at the door and took him at once to his study. +Neither of them was seen again till dinner-time. + +The servants were profoundly excited by all this, but were too well +trained to betray their curiosity above stairs. They knew now who Mrs. +Ollnee was, but they believed in their master's government and listened +to the hammering in the study with impassive faces--while at their +duties in the hall or dining-room--but permitted themselves endless +conjecture in their own quarters. Marie alone took no part in these +discussions, though she seemed more excited than any of the others. + +Meanwhile, Victor watched and waited in a fever of anxiety for Leo's +return. At five o'clock she came, but went directly to her room. + +Marie met her tense with excitement. "Oh, Miss Leo, Master has asked me +to sit in the circle to-night, and I'm scared." + +"You mean Mr. Bartol has asked you?" + +"Yes--Miss." + +"Well, you should feel exalted, Marie. It will be a wonderful +experience." + +"I suppose so, Miss, but my hands are all cold and my stomach sick with +thinking of it." + +Leo laughed. "You're psychic, that's what's the matter with you." + +"Oh, do you think so!" + +"Let me take your hands." Marie gave them. Leo smiled. "Cold and wet! +Yes, you are _it_! But don't let it interfere with dinner. I'm hungry as +a bear. Cheer up. I'd give anything to be a psychic." + +"I shall flunk it, Miss; I can't go through it, really." + +"Nonsense! It will be good as a play." + +Half an hour later the others came in, and Leo heard Victor's voice in +the hall with a feeling of distaste. She had gone out to him during that +moonlit walk, and was suffering now a natural revulsion. It had not been +love; it had been (she admitted) only physical attraction, and the +fault, the weakness, had been hers. His presuming upon her moment of +compliance was of the nature of man. It had frightened her to discover +such deeps within herself. "We are all animals at bottom," she charged, +in the unnatural cynicism of youth. + +Notwithstanding this mood, she clothed herself handsomely in a gown +which lent beauty to the exceedingly dignified role she designed to +play, and so costumed went to her aunt's room to hear the news. + +Mrs. Joyce was lying down, and her voice sounded tired as she said: "We +were ordered out of the house at three, and have been driving ever +since. Alexander, so Marie says, has had strange men working all the +afternoon on some contrivance in his study. Evidently he is going to be +very scientific." + +Leo exclaimed with delight. "Now we'll see if these faces and forms are +real or not." + +"Why, Leo! Do you doubt?" + +"Yes, deep in my heart I do. I cannot quite free myself from the belief +that in some way Lucy produces all these effects." + +"Of course she transmits them. She's a medium." + +"I don't mean it that way--and I don't mean that she cheats; but somehow +I never feel as if anything real came to me direct." + +Mrs. Joyce did not feel able to pursue this line of argument. "What's +the matter between you and Victor?" + +"Who told you anything was the matter?" + +"I sensed it." + +"Well, why didn't you sense the cause?" + +"He's a nice boy; you mustn't ill-treat him, Leo." + +"Your solicitude is misplaced; you should be concerned about me." + +"You? Trust you to take care of yourself! I never knew a more +self-sufficient young person. I am only waiting for some man to teach +you your place." + +This was a frequent subject of very plain though jocular allusion +between them. "A man may--some time--but not a rowdy boy. How does Lucy +take the promise of a test?" + +"Very calmly. She is relying wholly on her 'band' to protect her. She +feels the importance of the trial, and does not shrink from it." + +The Miss Wood whom Victor met as he entered the dining-room that night +was precisely the young lady he had first seen, a calm, smiling, +superior person who looked down upon him with good-humored tolerance of +his youth and sex, putting him into the position of the bad little boy +who has promised not to do so again. She not merely loftily forgave him, +she had apparently minimized the offense, and this hurt worst of all. +"I'm sorry not to have been able to work to-day," she said; "but I +really had to go to town." + +This lofty, elderly sister air after her compliance to his arm +eventually angered him. His awe, his gratitude of the morning were +turned into the man's desire to be master. He set his jaws in sullen +slant and bided his time. "You can't treat me in this way when we're +alone," he said, beneath his breath. + +Later he was hurt by her vivid interest in the young inventor, whom +Bartol introduced as Stinchfield. He was a small man with a round, red +face and laughing blue eyes, but he spoke with authority. His knowledge +was amazing for its wide grasp, but especially for its precision. He +guessed at nothing; he knew--or if he did not know he said so frankly. +In the few short years of his professional career he had been associated +with some of the greatest masters of matter. His acquaintances were all +men of exact information and trained judgment, men who lived amid +physical miracles and wrought epics in steel and stone. + +Naturally he absorbed the attention of the table, for in answer to +questions he touched upon his career, and his talk was absorbing. He had +been a year at Panama. He had helped to survey the route for a vast +Colorado irrigating tunnel, and in his spare moments had perfected a +number of important inventions in automobile construction. + +It was for all these reasons that Bartol had 'phoned him, urging him to +come out and assist in the infinitely more important work of reducing to +law the phenomena which sprang, apparently without rule or reason, from +the trances of his latest and most interesting client. "Here is your +chance to get a grip on the phenomena that have puzzled the world for +centuries," he said. + +When Mrs. Joyce asked Stinchfield if he knew anything about spirit +phenomena, he replied, candidly: + +"Not a thing, directly, Mrs. Joyce. Of course I have read a good deal, +but I have never experimented. It is not easy to secure co-operation on +the part of those gifted with these powers. The trouble seems to be they +consider themselves in a sense priests, keepers of a faith, whereas I +have the natural tendency to think of them in terms of physics." + +Bartol, smiling, raised a hand. "I don't want the company drawn into +controversy. Experts agree that argument defeats a psychic." + +Mrs. Ollnee still wore the look of one who but half listens to what is +said, and Mrs. Joyce slyly touched her hand with the tips of her +fingers. "Do you want to go to your room?" she asked. + +Mrs. Ollnee shook her head. "No, I am all right." + +"We will have better results if we 'cut out' dessert," Mrs. Joyce +explained to Bartol. "Over-eating has spoiled many a seance." + +"Is it as physical as that?" exclaimed Stinchfield. + +"I never eat when I am on a hard case," said Bartol. + +Victor began to awaken to the crucial nature of the test which was about +to be made of his mother's powers. This laughing young physicist was +precisely the sort of man to put the screws severely on. It was all a +problem in mechanics for him. Whether the psychic suffered or rejoiced +in the operation did not concern him. "If she is deceiving us in any way +he will discover it," the son forecasted, with a feeling of fear at his +heart. "And yet how can I defend her?" + +Bartol said to Mrs. Ollnee: "Would you mind dressing for the +performance? I'd like you to go with Mrs. Joyce and Marie, and clothe +yourself in all black if possible, so that I can say you came into my +study not merely searched, but re-clothed." + +She said, quite simply: "I have no objection at all. I am in your +hands." + +After the older women left the room Victor drew near to Leo with a low +word. "Poor little mother! she is in the hands of the inquisition +to-night." + +Thrilling to the excitement of the hour, she forgot her resentful +superior pose. "Isn't that little man magnificent? Why didn't you go in +for civil engineering or chemistry?" + +"Because no one had sense enough to advise me," he bitterly answered. + +"Think where that funny little body has carried that head," she +continued, still studying Stinchfield. "If he had only been given +shoulders like yours--" + +"I'm glad you like something about me." + +"I was speaking of your body as a machine for carrying a brain around +over the earth." + +"You seem to think of me as having no brain." + +"Oh, not quite so bad as that. You have a brain, but it's undeveloped." + +"I'm growing up rapidly these days. Seems like I'd lived a year since +our walk last night." + +She colored a little. "Forget that and I'll forgive you." + +"I can't forget that." + +"Have you any idea what the tests are to be?" she asked, in an effort to +change the subject. + +"No, I'm outside of it all. I hope they won't scare my poor little +mother out of her senses. Ought I to step in and stop it?" + +"No, not unless The Voices say so. They welcome investigation--so +they've always said. What I should insist on, if I were you, is plenty +of time and a series of sittings." + +She was speaking now in gracious mood, and he, eager to win from her a +fuller expression of forgiveness, spoke again, bravely. "I hope you are +not going to be angry with me?" + +"Not at all," she replied, with disheartening, impersonal cordiality. "I +was partly to blame. I forgot you were a hot-headed boy." + +"Don't take that tone with me--I won't stand it!" + +"How can you help it?" she answered, with a smile, and moved toward the +end of the table where Bartol and Stinchfield still sat smoking and +leisurely sipping their coffee. + +The little engineer sprang up as she drew near, and stood like a soldier +at attention as she said, "Are you in merciless mood to-night, Mr. +Stinchfield?" + +"Far from it," he responded. "I'm in a receptive mood. The fact that Mr. +Bartol has found enough in this subject to wish to investigate +predisposes me to open-mindedness." + +"Suppose we go into the library," suggested Bartol, and they all +followed him across the hall. + +Leo walked with the engineer, leaving Victor in the rear, hurt and +suffering sorely. + +It was not so much her displayed interest in Stinchfield as her haughty +disregard of himself that touched his self-esteem. Thereafter he sulked +like the boy she declared him to be. + +When his mother came in robed in black and looking the sad young widow +he was on the verge of rebellion against the whole plan of action, but +he kept silence while Bartol explained his design. + +"It is customary for 'mediums' to have things their own way, but in this +case Mrs. Ollnee has placed herself entirely in my hands. The tests will +be made in my study." He turned the key and unlocked the door. "Mr. +Stinchfield will enter first and see that the room is as we left it." + +The engineer entered, and after a moment's survey called: "All is +untouched. Come in." + +Bartol led the way with Mrs. Ollnee, and when Victor, the last to enter, +had paced slowly over the threshold Stinchfield locked the door and +handed the key to his host. The inquisition was begun. + +The most notable furnishing of the room was a battery of three cameras, +so arranged that they could be operated instantaneously, and Mrs. Joyce +asked, anxiously, "Has the band consented to this?" + +"They have consented to a trial," answered Mrs. Ollnee, in a faint +voice. She had grown very pale, and her hands were trembling. To Victor +this seemed like the tremor of terror, and his heart was aching with +pity. + +On one side of the room a deep alcove lined with books had been turned +into a dark-room by means of curtains, and before these draperies stood +the inevitable wooden table, but beside it, inclosing a chair, was a +conical cage of wire netting encircled by bands of copper. + +Mrs. Joyce exclaimed, "You do not intend to cage her in that?" + +"That is my intention," calmly replied Bartol. + +"Have the controls consented?" asked Mrs. Joyce. + +"Yes," answered Mrs. Ollnee. + +Of the further intricacies of Stinchfield's preparation Victor had no +hint, so artfully were they concealed; but he recognized in it all a +kind of humorous skepticism (which the engineer radiated in spite of his +manifest wish to appear respectful); and as his mother entered her +little torture tent Victor said, "You needn't do this if you don't want +to, mother." + +"Your father commands it," she replied, submissively. + +Stinchfield screwed the cage to the floor and made an attachment to a +small wire which ran along the book-case to a dark corner. Victor was +enough of the physicist to infer that his mother was now surrounded by +an electric current. + +Bartol explained: "We are to start in total darkness, and then we intend +to try various degrees and colors of lights. Mrs. Ollnee, how will you +have us sit?" + +"I want Victor opposite me, with Leo at his right and Louise at his +left. Mr. Stinchfield will then be able to operate his wires. You, Mr. +Bartol, sit at Leo's right and nearest the cage." Her voice was now +quite firm, and her manner decided. "All sit at the table for a time." + +Stinchfield snapped out the lights, one by one, till only two, one red, +the other green, struggled against the darkness. When these went out the +room was perfectly black. + +Bartol then said: "In the cabinet behind the medium is a +self-registering column of mercury, a typewriter, and a switch, which +will light a lamp which hangs in the ceiling above the cabinet, and +which has no other connection. The psychic is inclosed in a mesh of +steel wire too fine to permit the putting forth of a finger. If the lamp +is lighted, the column of mercury lifted, or the typewriter keys +depressed, it will be by some supra-normal power of the medium. There +is also on a table just inside the curtains, with paper and pencils, a +small tin trumpet, a bell, and a zither upon it. If possible, we wish to +obtain a written message independent of Mrs. Ollnee." + +"It is the unexpected that happens," remarked Mrs. Joyce. "Shall we +clasp hands, Lucy?" + +"Yes," answered Mrs. Ollnee. + +Victor, reaching for Leo's hand, tingled with something not scientific, +a current of something subtler than electricity which came from her +palm. He thought he detected in her fingers a returning warmth of grasp. + +"They are here," announced Mrs. Joyce, after some ten minutes of +silence. + +"Who are here?" asked Bartol. + +"My band--and many others." + +"How can you tell?" + +"I hear them." A faint whisper soon distinguished itself, and Mrs. Joyce +reported that Mr. Blodgett was speaking. "He says he realizes the +importance of this test, and that he has summoned all the most powerful +of the spirits within reach, and that they will do all they can. He says +the wire cage is a new condition, but they will meet it. Be patient; the +strain on Lucy is very great, but it cannot be avoided." + +In the silence which followed this conversation Leo shuddered and +clutched Victor's hand as if for protection. "The other world is +opening. Don't you feel it?" She whispered. "I can hear the rustle of +wings." + +He, growing very tense himself, answered: "I feel only my mother's +anxiety. Are you comfortable, mother?" he asked. + +She did not reply, and Mrs. Joyce said, "She is asleep." And all became +silent again. + +"Hello!" exclaimed Stinchfield. "Who touched me?" + +"No one in the circle," answered Mrs. Joyce, highly elated. + +"I certainly felt a hand on my shoulder--there it comes again! Shall I +flash my camera?" + +"_Not now!_" came a clear, full whisper, apparently from the cabinet. +"_You would fail now. Wait._" + +"Who spoke?" asked Bartol. + +As there was no reply, Mrs. Joyce asked, "Is it you, Mr. Blodgett?" + +"_No!_" the whisper replied. + +"Is it Watts?" + +"_Yes._" + +"It is Isaac Watts. Now it is his science against yours, Mr. +Stinchfield." + +Bartol fell into the mode at once. "We are glad to be so honored. Now +Watts, I want--and I must have--incontestable proof of the psychic's +abnormal power--nothing else can save her from State prison. Do you +realize that?" + +"_We do._" + +"Very well, proceed." + +"_What would you call incontestable proof?_" + +"I should say a registered pressure on the key or the lighting of the +lamp above the cabinet--" + +A vivid red flash lit up the room. Stinchfield shouted, "The lamp--the +lamp was lit!" + +His excitement, to all but Bartol, was ludicrously high, and Mrs. Joyce +openly chuckled. "What else do you want done, Mr. Science?" + +"Writing independent of Mrs. Ollnee," replied Bartol. + +After a long and painful silence the bell tinkled faintly, and as all +listened breathlessly the zither began to play. + +"Now who is doing that?" asked the engineer. + +"_Turn on the green light!_" suggested the Voice. + +Stinchfield lit the green lamp, and by its glow the psychic was seen in +her cage reclining limply, her face ghostly white in the light. Bartol +looked about the circle. Every hand was in view, and yet the zither +continued to play its weird and wistful little tune. Leo and Mrs. Joyce +took this as a matter of course, but the men sat in rigid amazement. + +"_Lights out!_" whispered the Voice. + +Stinchfield put out his lamp. "That is astounding," he said. "I cannot +analyze that." + +"_Will you swear the psychic did not do it?_" asked the Voice. + +The engineer hesitated. "Yes," he finally said. + +"_Is this sufficient?_" asked the unseen. + +Bartol replied. "Sufficient for my argument; but I do not understand +these physical effects, and the jury may demand other proof. It will be +necessary for us to show that the messages which misled, as well as +those which comforted, came from some power outside the psychic and +beyond her control. I believe that, as in the case of Anna +Rothe--condemned by a German court to a long term of imprisonment--the +charge of imposture and swindling made against Mrs. Ollnee must lie, +unless I can demonstrate that these messages come from her subconscious +self in some occult way, or from personalities other than herself. In +fact, the whole case against Mrs. Ollnee lies in the question--does she +believe in The Voices as entities existing and acting outside herself--" + +He interrupted himself to say: "Something is tapping my hand. It feels +like the small tin horn." + +"_It is!_" came the answer in such volume that it could be heard all +over the room. + +"_Does this not prove the medium innocent of ventriloquism?_" + +"Stinchfield--what about this?" asked Bartol. + +The engineer could only repeat: "I don't understand it. It is out of my +range." + +Again the red lamp above the cabinet flashed, and by its momentary glow +the horn was seen floating high over the cage, in which the medium sat +motionless and ghastly white. + +"Shall I flashlight that?" asked Stinchfield again. + +"_No_," answered the Voice. "_The flashlight is very dangerous. We must +use it only for the supreme thing. Be patient!_" + +There was no longer any spirit of jocularity in the room. Each one +acknowledged the presence of something profoundly mysterious, something +capable of transforming physical science from top to bottom, something +so far-reaching in its effect on law and morals as to benumb the +faculties of those who perceived it. It was in no sense a religious awe +with Bartol; it was the humbleness which comes to the greatest minds as +they confront the unknowable deeps of matter and of space. + +The boy and girl forgot their names, their sex. They touched hands as +two infinitely small insects might do in the impenetrable night of their +world (their hates as unimportant as their loves). Only the bereaved +wife and mother leaned forward with the believer's full faith in the +heaven from which the beloved forms of her dead were about to issue. + +Suddenly the curtains of the alcove opened, disclosing a narrow strip of +some glowing white substance. It was not metal, and it was not drapery. +It was something not classified in science, and Stinchfield stared at it +with analytic eyes, talking under breath to Bartol. "It is not +phosphorus, but like it. I wonder if it emits heat?" + +Mrs. Joyce explained: "It is the half-opened door into the celestial +plane. I saw a face looking out." + +This light vanished as silently as it came, and the zither began to play +again, and a multitude of fairy voices--like a splendid chorus heard far +down a shining hall--sang exquisitely but sadly an unknown anthem. While +still the men of law and science listened in stupefaction the voices +died out, and the zither, still playing, rose in the air, and at the +instant when it was sounding nearest the ceiling the red lamp above the +cabinet was again lighted, and the instrument, played by two faintly +perceived hands, continued floating in the air. + +Silent, open-mouthed, staring, Stinchfield heard the zither descend to +the table before him. Then he awoke. "I must photograph _that_!" + +"_Not yet_," insisted the Voice. "_Wait for a more important sign._" + +In Victor's mind a complete revulsion to faith had come. His heart went +out in a rush of remorseful tenderness and awe. The last lingering doubt +of his mother disappeared. Like a flash of lightning memory swept back +over his past. All he had seen and heard of the "ghost-room" stood +revealed in a pure white light. "_It was all true--all of it. She has +never deceived me or any one else; she is wonderful and pure as an +angel!_" Incredible as were the effects he had seen, and which he had +rejected as unconscious trickery, not one of them was more destructive +of the teaching of his books than this vision of the zither played high +in the air by sad, sweet hands. He longed to clasp his mother to his +bosom to ask her forgiveness, but his throat choked with an emotion he +could not utter. + +Bartol, with tense voice, said to Stinchfield: "We have succeeded in +paralleling Crookes' experiment. With this alone I can save her." + +The flash of radiance from the cabinet interrupted him, and a new +voice--an imperative voice--called: + +"_Green light!_" + +Stinchfield turned his switch, and there in the glow of the lamp stood a +tall female figure with pale, sweet, oval face and dark, mysterious +eyes. + +"It is Altair!" exclaimed Leo. + +Victor shivered with awe and exalted admiration, for the eyes seemed to +look straight at him. The room was filled with that familiar +unaccountable odor, and a cold wind blew as before from the celestial +visitant, with suggestions of limitless space and cold, white light. + +"_Be faithful_," the sweet Voice said. "_Do not grieve. Do your work. +Good-by._" + +The vision lasted but an instant, but in that moment Stinchfield and +Bartol both perceived the psychic in her electric prison, lying like a +corpse with lolling head and ghostly, sunken cheeks. She seemed to have +lost half her bulk; like a partly filled garment she draped her chair. + +The engineer spoke in a voice soft, pleading, husky with excitement. +"May I flashlight now?" + +"_Not that--but this!_" uttered a man's voice, and forth from the +cabinet a faintly luminous mist appeared. + +"_Red lamp!_" + +In the glow of the sixteen-candle-power light the face of a bearded man +was plainly seen. It wore a look of grave expectancy. + +"Shall I fire?" asked Stinchfield. + +"_It may destroy our instrument_," answered the figure. "_But proceed._" + +The blinding flash which followed was accompanied by a cry, followed by +a moan, and Lucy Ollnee was heard to topple from her chair to the floor. +In the moment of horrified silence which followed the Voice commanded: + +"_Be silent! Do not stir! Turn off your current._" + +In his excitement Stinchfield turned off both light and current, and +left the whole room in darkness. Victor was on his feet crying out: "She +has fallen! She is dying!" + +"_Stay where you are, my son. Keep the room dark. We will take care of +your mother._" + +So absolute was his faith at the moment, Victor resumed his seat, though +he was trembling with fear. Leo reached for his hand. "Don't be +frightened. They will care for her." + +"We have witnessed the miraculous," declared Bartol, stricken into +irresolution by what had taken place. + +Mrs. Joyce, accustomed to these marvels, added her word of warning. +"Don't go to her yet. Spirits are all about her. It has been a terrible +shock, but they will heal her." + +Stunned silent, baffled by what he had seen, the scientist sat with his +hand on the switches controlling the lights ready to carry out the +orders of his invisible colleague. + +"_Red light!_" commanded the Voice. "_Approach--quietly. Victor, take +charge of your mother's body. She will not re-enter it. Her spirit is +with us._" + +Victor went forward and knelt in agony while the engineer lifted the +cage and delivered the unconscious psychic into his hands. + + * * * * * + +Lucy Ollnee breathed no more. She had died as she had lived, a martyr to +the unseen world. + +But her death was triumphant, for on the sensitive plate of each camera +science and law were able to read the proof of her power. In the dark +face of his grandsire Victor read a stern contempt as though he said: + +"Deny and still deny. In the end you _must_ believe." + +In the alcove on the pad these words were written in his mother's hand: +"_Do not grieve. My work is done. I do not go far. I shall be near to +cheer and guide you. Your future is secure. Work hard, be patient, and +all will be well. Farewell, but not good-by._" + +Below, written in the quaint script which Victor recognized, were these +words: "_Men of science and of law, blazon forth the marvels you have +seen and tested. Make the world ring with them; in such wise will you +advance veneration for God and remove the fear of death._ + + "_WATTS._" + + + + +XV + +THE RING + + +Bartol obeyed the command of the invisible powers. He gladly blazoned +the triumphant death of the psychic to the world. Lucy Ollnee became at +once a glorious martyr for her faith, a victim of science. Liberal +journals and religious journals alike lamented that it was necessary for +the sake of proof as regards immortality "that an innocent woman should +be caged and tortured to death with electric batteries," and even the +_Star_, leader in the war against the mediums, permitted itself an +editorial word of regret, and published in full Bartol's letter, and +also a long interview with Stinchfield, wherein he admitted the +genuineness of the dead woman's claims to supra-normal power. + +But all this was, at the moment, of small comfort to Victor. For a long +time he refused to believe in the reality of his mother's death, +insisting that she was in deep trance (as she had been before); but at +last, when the body was to be removed to Mrs. Joyce's home and Doctor +Steele and Doctor Eberly had both examined it and found no signs of +life, he gave up all hope of her return. + +Accompanied by Mrs. Joyce, he visited the California Avenue flat for the +last time to pack up the few things of value which his mother had been +permitted to acquire. His attitude toward the chairs, the slates, the +old table, had utterly changed. They were now instinct with his mother's +power, permeated with some part of her subtler material self, and he was +minded to preserve them. They were no longer the tools of a conjuror; +they were the sacred relics of a priestess. + +Mrs. Joyce asked permission to house them for him till he had secured a +home of his own, and to this he consented, for with his present feeling +concerning them he was troubled by the thought of their being stored in +dark vaults among masses of commonplace furniture. + +"I shall keep the table in my own room," said Mrs. Joyce. "It may be +that Lucy will be able to manifest herself to me through it. I have been +promised such power." + +To this Victor made no reply, for while he now believed absolutely in +all that his mother claimed to do, he had not been brought to a belief +in the return of the dead, and it was this fundamental doubt which made +his grief so bitter. "If only she could know that I believe in her," he +said to Leo, on the morning of the day when his mother's body was to be +taken away. "Think of it! She died a thousand times for the curious and +the selfish, only to be called an impostor and a cheat--and I, her only +son, was afraid the charge was true. If only I could have told her that +I believed in her!" + +"She knows," the girl gently assured him. They were seated at the moment +in the library and the morning was very warm and silent. The birds +seemed to be resting in preparation for their evensong. "Your mother is +near us--she may be listening to us this minute." + +"I can't believe that," he declared, sadly. "I'm not sure that I want to +believe it. I can't endure the thought of my mother's destruction, and +yet the notion of her floating about somewhere like a wreath of mist is +sorrowful to me." + +Leo confessed to somewhat the same feeling. "Heaven--any kind of +heaven--has always been incomprehensible to me, and yet we must believe +there is some sort of system of rewards and punishments. Anyhow, your +mother's death was glorious. She died as she would have wished to +die--in proving her faith." + +"She gave too much," he protested. "All her life she was set apart to do +a martyr's work. I understand now why my father couldn't stand it. I +know how he must have resented these Voices, and I cannot blame him for +going away. Would you marry a man like Stainton Moses or David Home?" + +She recoiled a little before the thought. "Of course not--but--" + +"What?" + +"Your mother was charming. If your father really loved her--" + +"He did! I'm sure of that, at first, but these 'ghosts' destroyed his +home. My mother confessed to me that they tormented my father for his +unbelief, and he had to go." + +"They are together now, and he believes." + +Victor fixed a penetrating look upon her. "Do you really believe that +the dead speak to us?" + +"I see no reason why they shouldn't--if they want to. How else can you +explain these Voices?" + +He shook his head. "I'm afraid these modern Italian scientists are +right. The Voices were only 'parasitic personalities,' nothing else. But +let's not talk of them. I'm tired of the 'ghost-room'--all my life I've +had it--and now I'm going to forget it if I can." + +"Hush! Your mother may hear you and grieve." + +"If she can hear me she will understand my feeling. I like the world as +it is--I don't want the supernatural thrust into it." + +"I think you're wrong," she said, firmly. "The larger view is that of +the scientist who recognizes nothing supernatural in the universe. I +would not part with what your mother gave me for huge sums. I've had +wonderful, thrilling experiences. Remember Altair!" + +Altair! Yes, he remembered her, and remembering her he recalled the +graceful figure at his bedside and the touch of the faintly clinging +lips. That mystery remained the most inexplicable of them all. + +While thus he sat, dream-filled and rapt, the girl studied him, and her +face changed. "You believe in Altair. What's more, you love her, and I +can't blame you for it. She is more beautiful than angels. You will not +forsake the 'ghost-room' so long as you have a hope that she may +return." + +"You are mistaken," he protested. "Altair is only a dream. I worship her +as a figure in a vision. Do you know what I think she was?" Her look +questioned, and he went on. "For days I have pondered on her face and +figure, in the light of modern science, and I am convinced that she was +nothing but a union of my mother's astral self and you." + +She looked at him in startled thought. "What do you mean?" + +He explained eagerly. "You must have noticed how much like my mother she +was? Her brow was the same--her eyes the same--" + +"Yes, they were a little like hers." + +"But her mouth and chin were exactly like yours. Her hands were like +yours. She held her head exactly as you do--and then she changed; +sometimes my mother predominated in her, sometimes you were the +stronger." + +The girl was deeply affected by the significance of this analysis. "You +imagined all that." + +He pushed on. "I did not, and, furthermore, Altair never came till you +sat with my mother. She never attained such power--so your aunt +agrees--till I came into the circle. She represented my conception of my +mother and you. I loved my mother, and I admired you--and out of my love +and admiration Altair was created." + +"That is absurd! If ever a spirit came from heaven, Altair was that one. +Why, she was palpable! I've touched her hands." + +He said, slowly: "She was beautiful, I confess, so beautiful that on +that first night she made even you seem coarse and material." + +"I felt your disdain," she thrust in, with sudden hurt. + +"But that was only for the moment. I could see nothing but her face--so +sad, so wistful. But let me ask you something. Did you, the night after +our walk on the drive in the moonlight--did you dream of me?" + +Her lip curled in a wondering smile. "What a question to ask of me!" + +"But did you? Come now, be honest. I have a reason for asking--did you?" + +"What is your reason for asking?" + +"That night Altair came to my bedside." + +Her eyes flashed and she rose to her feet. "You have an Oriental +imagination." + +"Don't go--hear me out. It was a beautiful experience." + +"Apparently it was. To me your story is insulting." + +He lost patience a little, and said bluntly: "You act as if I charged +_you_ with something. I say, 'Altair' came, and to me her visit was very +_significant_ and beautiful, because she testified to me that both you +and my mother were thinking of me. It was, in fact, your united astral +selves that paid that visit. Altair was your materialized friendship and +my mother's love." + +"What a fantastic notion!" she said; but she lingered, held by something +new and masterful in his voice. + +She added, with some humor: "Be kind enough to imagine that your +mother's 'astral self' preponderated in that vision." + +"I do, for when Altair stooped to kiss me--" + +"Stop!" she cried out, sharply; "you go too far!" + +"Leo!" he called, and his voice checked her as quickly as if he had +caught her by the arm. "I am not joking; I am very serious. You must +remember that I have lost both my mother and Altair--you alone remain--I +can't afford to lose you. You are all I have now. Don't be angry with +me." + +She considered him with a return to pity. "Forgive me," she hurriedly +retracted. "I am very sorry for you, and I don't want to seem +unfriendly; but it is only a week since we met. What can you know of me +in so short a time?" + +"I loved you the moment you came into my mother's room." + +"Nonsense. You hated me." + +"I did not like the way you treated me; but I never hated you. I was +afraid of you." + +"If your mother can hear you say that, she is certainly smiling, for she +knows you are not afraid of anybody. You're a very stiff-necked person." + +"I know you have a right to laugh at me; but I believe our 'guides' have +brought us together. I need you--now--and if I dared I'd ask you to wear +this." He disclosed a ring in his hand. + +She looked at it narrowly. "I know that ring; it was your mother's. She +kept it in a little velvet box together with an old-fashioned locket." + +"Yes, it is hers. It isn't very grand, compared with your own, but I +wish you'd put it on and consider it my promissory note." + +"_Your_ promissory note!" + +"Yes, I promise to buy it back with all the money you have lost through +my mother's advice. Will you wear it for me?" + +"Where do you expect to find so much money?" + +"Right here, in this great city. Mr. Bartol is to take me into his +office. He's like a father to me already; but I don't expect him to give +me anything. I'm going to work, and I'm going to pay you back the money +you have lost." + +Extending her little finger, she took the ring daintily on its tip. "All +that sounds very romantic; and yet young men do win wealth and fame +right here--and why not you?" + +"That's just it. I may be the future monopolizer of air-ships--" The +maid, appearing at the moment, announced that a lady wished to see Mr. +Ollnee. + +"Did she give her name?" + +"No, sir; but she said she was a relative, sir." + +"Tell her I will see her in a moment." + +As the maid left Leo rose. + +"Don't go!" pleaded Victor. "My visitor can wait. You haven't said +whether you will wear my ring or not. I don't know how long it may be +before I can 'make good,' but it will help mightily to know that you are +expecting me to do so." + +She pondered, but her face was kindly and her voice very gentle as she +said: "I don't want to seem unkind now in your hour of grief, but I +can't wear the ring." His eyes filled with tears, and she added: "I'll +keep it for you. The real question between us will have to be decided +some time in the future--when we know each other better. You need not +think of paying me. Go and see your relation. It may be a rich aunt +come to adopt you." + +"Couldn't you _learn_ to love me?" he asked, poignantly. + +"I might." She smiled. "I like you already." And she went away, leaving +him with stronger will to dare and do. + + + + +XVI + +CONCLUSION + + +As Victor entered the library he was met by a very pale, wide-eyed young +woman in a picturesque black hat. Her voice was deep and full of +dramatic fervor as she said: + +"You are Victor Ollnee?" + +"I am." + +Her eyes, large and very dark, almost black, gazed at him appealingly, +as she said: "Pardon me for a little deception. I am your relation only +in a spiritual sense--I share your sorrow, and in other ways I am +related to you. I was eager to see you, and I did not send in my name +for the reason that it would have repelled you, and you might have +refused to meet me." + +Victor thought her a very singular and very theatric young person. +Certainly she was under some strong stress of emotion which caused her +lips to quiver and her voice to vibrate tensely. He knew her now. She +was the girl he had confronted in the court-room, and he stared at her, +uncertain of his footing. She seemed like some of the figures he had +seen on the stage, vivid, swift of change, unreal, but her voice was +vibrantly charming. He was sure she was the girl he had met on the +street, and she had stood beside the man Aiken during their brief +appearance in the court-room. + +She approached a step or two, as if throwing herself on his mercy. "My +name is Florence Aiken. I am a newspaper writer. I am the one who +brought all this trouble to you. It was I who wrote that first article +in the _Star_ denouncing your mother." + +He recoiled before her quite as dramatically as she could have wished. +"You wrote that!" he exclaimed. "I thought a man did that job." + +She could not help a slight expression of pride in her work. "It was +mine, every word of it. I was terribly vindictive, I admit; but you must +know I had some provocation. Let me tell you? Will you listen to me? +Please do! I'm not so heartless as I seemed in that article, and I +cannot rest till I have made my peace with you." + +Her voice, her pale face, her intense eyes, and her tense contralto +voice softened his resentment. + +"I'll listen, but you can't expect me to forgive a thing like that." + +"May I sit?" + +"Certainly," he answered, but remained standing, as if to retain his +guard. + +"Don't condemn me altogether," she pleaded. "Wait till you know how much +reason I had to hate the whole brood of clairvoyants, seers, and +psychics. My dear old grandmother was an easy mark for the cheapest of +them, and I, who paid for her nurse out of my own thin little purse, and +waited upon her night and day, had a right to consider her small fortune +my own. It wasn't much, but it was enough to pay the cost of a flat, and +to see it all going to fakers and greasy palmists--well, it was too +much. It made a crusader of me--and it would have made one of you. It +was not a question of your mother--alone. I went to our managing editor +at last, and told him my story. I made it clear to him that the city was +full of these harpies who prey on poor old women like my grandmother. +'They ought to be driven out of town,' I said. 'Cut loose,' he said; and +I did. My article on your mother was honest. I believed her to be simply +another one of the same sort of impostors. I took her just like three or +four others whose methods I knew, and I got my cousin, Frank Aiken, to +bring suit against her. I thought she was a crook. I feel differently +to-day. Since talking with Judge Bartol and Mr. Stinchfield (I handled +both those assignments) I've changed my estimate of her. I have written +a page article vindicating her. I've come to tell you that her death in +that cage has changed the situation for me. I am convinced that she was +sincere, and I want to humble myself before you, her son, and ask your +forgiveness. I know you feel more like killing me, but here I am--I +couldn't rest without letting you know that I need your pardon." + +Her plea, swift, voiced in music, and illustrated by her pale face, +glowing eyes, and sensitive lips, powerfully affected him. He towered +over her in savage silence for a little while, then with effort he said: +"I don't see how I can do anything to you, for I felt the same way--I +mean I didn't believe in my mother's business." + +She became radiant. "Didn't you?" + +"No. Up to the very moment when that red lamp was lit I could not +believe in her. I couldn't help doubting--even now I need the +photographs to bolster up my belief." + +The reportorial instinct awoke in her. "I wish I might see those +photographs--to reassure myself, not for publication. May I see them?" + +He did not observe that her desire for his pardon seemed suddenly to be +met, even though he had not yet put it in words, and his mind was wholly +on the question of the photographic tests as he slowly replied: + +"They are very marvelous--especially those which came on the unexposed +plates." + +Her eyes widened in wonder. "What do you mean?" + +"Mr. Stinchfield had several packages of plates opened ready to use in +his cameras, but The Voices only let him make one flashlight. It seems +as if they knew the experiment would end my mother's life, and yet on +each of the unexposed plates are faces and forms, some of which Mr. +Bartol 'recognized.'" + +"Let me see them--please!" she pleaded, earnestly. "They will comfort +me, too, for I am under conviction." + +He took from his pocket a package of small photographs. "Here," he said, +"are the three flashlights of my grandfather, Nelson Blodgett." + +The young woman almost snatched them in her eager haste. "Oh, wonderful! +What a document! The medium plainly in her cage--and this figure on the +same plate." + +"It is the most convincing picture in existence," he said, sadly, "but +it cost me my mother." + +She fixed a dreamy gaze upon him. "If this is a spirit--then your mother +can return to you. Has she done so?" + +He moved uneasily. "I have not asked her to do that. I don't care to be +controlled or guided by spirits, not even by her spirit." + +"Why?" + +His voice was firm and assured as he replied: "Because I want to live +and work out my career like other men. I don't want to see or hear any +more of the 'astral plane'--" He checked himself. "It isn't natural for +a man like me to be mixed up with all this spirit business, and I'm +tired of it." + +"I see what you mean. You want to work and woo and marry like other men. +You're right; of course you're right. What have we who are young and +vigorous to do with the dead, anyway? Unless all human life is a +mistake, a foolish thing, it's our business to live it humanly." She +held out her hand for the other pictures. "Let me see them all, please!" + +He handed them to her. "There were three cameras," he explained, "hence +these duplicates. These faces are likenesses of Mr. Bartol's wife and +two children--and these plates, remember, were not exposed--they are of +Altair, one of the guides." + +She studied the shadowy forms with keen gaze. "One of the strange things +about this 'spirit photograph' business is the resemblance they all bear +to pictures--I mean, they all look as if they were photographs of framed +portraits or drawings." + +Again he betrayed restlessness. "Mr. Stinchfield noticed that." + +"What is his explanation?" + +"He does not think they come from spirits at all." + +She urged him to unbosom himself. "You have a conviction? What is it?" + +"His theory is that they are only mental images transferred by some +unknown mental power to the plates." + +"What about the figure of your grandsire?" + +"His theory is that the figure was really the etheric self of my +mother--shaped to the form like my grandsire by her own mind." + +She stared at him. "And you accept that?" + +"I don't know what else to believe. Yes, I accept that. I don't believe +the dead have any right to talk and fool with the lives of the living +the way I've been fooled with and side-tracked." His voice was full of +fervor now. "I'm going to live my own life hereafter irrespective of the +dead--responsible only to the living. I will not be disciplined by +ghosts." + +The girl laid the photographs down softly and looked at him with frank +admiration. "You're a very extraordinary young man," she said, sagely. + +"No, I'm not!" he protested. "I'm just a good average. A week ago my +hottest ambition was to carry the Winona ball team to victory. If I had +the money and the courage I'd go back there to-morrow and finish my +course." + +"What do you mean by courage?" + +"Well, you know what I'd be loaded up with. To go back there now would +be the devil and all. Your article broke my peaceful combination just a +week ago last Sunday." + +"But I have undone my work. I have vindicated your mother. You have a +right to be proud of her. She was as real a martyr as ever went to the +stake." + +"I know, but I'll be a marked figure, all the same." + +"You were a marked figure before. But consider all explanations have +been made--wait till you read my article. Go back!" she insisted. "I +wish you would." Her voice was rich with pleading. "It would make me +happy. I feel horribly guilty--really I do. I'm only a grubbing +reporter-person--I've had to earn my way and keep house for my +grandmother besides; but I'd gladly share my salary to help you return +to college. Please go back--it will relieve my mind of a big burden." + +He took her hand in the spirit in which it was offered. "I am within a +few days of graduation, but--" + +"Please go back--for the sake of a poor little newspaper wretch who +feels that she has indirectly spoiled your career." She pressed his hand +fervidly. "Promise me this and you'll take a monstrous load off my +shoulders." + +She had the face, the temperament of the actress, and loved to +experiment on the hearts of men; but she was deeply in earnest now. +Bartol and Stinchfield had really changed her point of view as regards +Mrs. Ollnee, and this "situation" appealed to her at the moment with +irresistible power. Life was to her a drama, intense, never-ending, +romantic, and at the moment she loved this splendid young man orphaned +by her hand. + +He could not resist her caressing voice, her appealing eyes, her +sensitive lips, and he said, "I promise." + +"Thank you," she said, and, dropping his hand, she lifted burning yet +tearful eyes to his face. "You are very generous." + +He went on, "I am sure you meant well." + +"I don't want to rest under false imputations," she repeated. "I did not +mean well. That first article was savage. I was angry. I struck blindly, +but I struck to hurt." + +"Well, all that is ended," he replied, sadly. "My mother is to be buried +to-day." + +She looked at him in silence for a moment. "I have one more request to +make," she said, at last, and her voice was very soft and hesitating. +"I'd like to look upon her face. I want to ask her forgiveness." + +His heart melted at this plea, and he turned away to hide his tears. +When he could speak he said: "She is very beautiful. I cannot believe +even now that she is dead; but I have given my consent to have her taken +to the cemetery. I will show her to you." + +In silence she followed him up the stairway and into the cool, dark room +where the coffin lay. + +The windows were open at the bottom, and though the shades were drawn, +the chamber was filled with soft light. The cries of the barn-yard and +the twitter of birds outside seemed strangely softened as the two young +people so singularly brought together approached the still form of the +seeress and looked into her face serene with the infinite repose of +death. + +Victor, with choking throat and burning eyes, stood at the bier unable +to utter a sound; but the girl, after a long glance, took a rose from +her bosom, and, with a sigh, gently laid it on the still, small, white +hands of the silent form. + +"Accept my homage," she intoned, softly, "and if you can still see and +hear, pardon me and forget my bitter words." + +She stood a moment thereafter as if involuntarily listening, waiting, +hoping--but the dead gave no sign. + + + + +THE END + + + + +Books by HAMLIN GARLAND + + CAVANAGH--FOREST RANGER + + THE CAPTAIN OF THE GRAY-HORSE TROOP. + + HESPER + + MONEY MAGIC. + + THE LIGHT OF THE STAR. + + THE TYRANNY OF THE DARK. + + THE SHADOW WORLD + + MAIN-TRAVELLED ROADS + + PRAIRIE FOLKS + + ROSE OF DUTCHER'S COOLLY + + THE MOCCASIN RANCH. + + TRAIL OF THE GOLD-SEEKERS + + THE LONG TRAIL. + + BOY LIFE ON THE PRAIRIE. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Victor Ollnee's Discipline, by Hamlin Garland + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VICTOR OLLNEE'S DISCIPLINE *** + +***** This file should be named 34250.txt or 34250.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/5/34250/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +book was produced from scanned images of public domain +material from the Google Print project.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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