A Strange Story — CompleteLytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
Science
A Strange Story — Complete
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
“One word more,” said I; “you tell me that Lilian has a repugnance to
this Margrave, and yet that she found comfort in his visits,--a comfort
that could not be wholly ascribed to cheering words he might say about
myself, since it is all but certain that I was not, at that time,
uppermost in her mind. Can you explain this apparent contradiction?”
“I cannot, otherwise than by a conjecture which you would ridicule.”
“I can ridicule nothing now. What is your conjecture?”
“I know how much you disbelieve in the stories one hears of animal
magnetism and electro-biology, otherwise--”
“You think that Margrave exercises some power of that kind over Lilian?
Has he spoken of such a power?”
“Not exactly; but he said that he was sure Lilian possessed a faculty
that he called by some hard name, not clairvoyance, but a faculty, which
he said, when I asked him to explain, was akin to prevision,--to second
sight. Then he talked of the Priestesses who had administered the
ancient oracles. Lilian, he said, reminded him of them, with her deep
eyes and mysterious smile.”
“And Lilian heard him? What said she?”
“Nothing; she seemed in fear while she listened.”
“He did not offer to try any of those arts practised by professional
mesmerists and other charlatans?”
“I thought he was about to do so, but I forestalled him, saying I never
would consent to any experiment of that kind, either on myself or my
daughter.”
“And he replied--”
“With his gay laugh, ‘that I was very foolish; that a person possessed
of such a faculty as he attributed to Lilian would, if the faculty were
developed, be an invaluable adviser.’ He would have said more, but I
begged him to desist. Still I fancy at times--do not be angry--that he
does somehow or other bewitch her, unconsciously to herself; for she
always knows when he is coming. Indeed, I am not sure that he does not
bewitch myself, for I by no means justify my conduct in admitting him
to an intimacy so familiar, and in spite of your wish; I have reproached
myself, resolved to shut my door on him, or to show by my manner that
his visits were unwelcome; yet when Lilian has said, in the drowsy
lethargic tone which has come into her voice (her voice naturally
earnest and impressive, though always low), ‘Mother, he will be here in
two minutes; I wish to leave the room and cannot,’ I, too, have felt
as if something constrained me against my will; as if, in short, I were
under that influence which Mr. Vigors--whom I will never forgive for his
conduct to you--would ascribe to mesmerism. But will you not come in and
see Lilian again?”
“No, not to-night; but watch and heed her, and if you see aught to make
you honestly believe that she regrets the rupture of the old tic from
which I have released her--why, you know, Mrs. Ashleigh, that--that--”
My voice failed; I wrung the good woman’s hand, and went my way.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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