England -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction; Spiritualism -- Fiction
intelligence that, when he was a child, had conveyed to him the
knowledge of that cache under the pine-tree, which was unknown to any
living being (as men count living) and that could not have been conveyed
to him through any telepathic channel except one that had its source and
spring not in this world. And now, from the same source, had come this
message from one who saw through the gross darkness of Archie's
emptiness and bitter heart, and had promised to be with him again.
Archie had no doubt whatever, as he got up with an alertness that had
not been his for weeks, of the genuineness of the communication. It
linked on with Martin's previous visits, and the glimpses he had
received of the materialized form of his visitor confirmed exactly the
recognition, years before, of the photograph he had found in the cache
which Martin had told him of. And the Power in whose hands were all
things had compassionated his trouble and had allowed, in pity for his
need, the gateless barrier to be again unbarred, and a spirit,
individual and recognized, to pass to and fro between him and the realms
of the light invisible.
It was just when his soul despaired that this happened; when he felt
himself denuded of all that he had loved, empty, and cast out from life
itself. Just in that hour had Martin been permitted to come back to
him...
He found his mother and Jessie at breakfast when he went down; his
father, as usual, had not appeared, and again, as last night when he
came out of the dining-room after a prolonged sitting, he felt kindly
and affectionate. But this was not from the sottish satisfaction of
wine: the light came from that subtle window in his soul, from which
once more the shutters had been thrown back. The moment Jessie saw him
she felt the quality of that change; he was like the Archie of Silorno
again.
"Good morning, mother darling," he said, kissing her. "Good morning,
Jessie. How bright and early we all are! And has everybody slept as
serenely as I?"
"You didn't sleep very long, Archie, did you?" asked the girl, whose
room was next his. "I heard you hammering at something after I had gone
to bed, and I awoke once and heard you talking to somebody."
Archie, at the side-table helping himself to sausage, paused a moment.
He made up his mind that for the present, anyhow, he preferred that
Jessie should not know about the return of Martin. Perhaps he would tell
her quietly when alone...
"Hammering?" he said. "Yes, there was a despatch-case, and I couldn't
find the key. So I whacked it open. About talking--yes, I was writing
last night, and I believe I read it aloud to myself before I went to
bed. I never know what a thing is like unless I read it aloud."
"Oh, do read it aloud to me," said the girl.
"When it's in order: it wasn't quite in order when I read it over. But I
was sleepy and went to bed."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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