Farms -- Fiction; Paranormal fiction; Single women -- Fiction; Spiritualism -- Fiction; Sussex (England) -- Fiction
Ruth smiled. She was sitting very still, her elbow on her knee, her chin
in the hollow of her hand. A great content made her face beautiful. Her
grey eyes dwelt lovingly upon the little world, which held so many
worlds in its circle. The laughter of the children came again across the
field. Then she began to talk.
“It is so wonderful,” she said. “I can hardly yet believe it can be
true, which is so foolish, because the truth undoubtedly _is_ wonderful
beyond our conceiving. We only see such little bits of it here, even the
wisest of us. And we will think it is the whole. When we do see the
whole, I think what will be the most wonderful thing about it will be
its amazing simplicity. We shall wonder how we ever groped about among
so many seeming complications, so much dirt and darkness.”
She stopped for a few moments, and North waited. He felt he was
shrinking back into himself, away from whatever might be coming. Like
many very intellectual persons, he was inclined to resent what he could
not account for, and to be wholly unsympathetic, if not a little brutal,
towards it.
Psychical investigation always had repelled him. Repelled him only less,
and in a different way, than the search for knowledge among the tortured
entrails of friendly dogs. With the great forces of nature he could
fight cleanly, and courageously, to harness them to the service of man.
They were enormously interesting, amazingly beautiful. Powerful enough
to protect themselves if necessary. One wrested their secrets from them
at one’s own peril. And the scientist who strives with the great forces
of nature has the mark of his craft branded into his very soul. Its name
is Truth. To that mark, if he be a true scientist, he is faithful
absolutely, unswervingly. Indeed it must be so. And, ever seeking the
truth, the true scientist knows that his discoveries are ever only
partial; that soon, even before his own little day here is ended, will
come new discoveries which shall modify the old. So that he will never
say “I know,” only “I am learning.” And now for the first time psychic
investigation was making its appeal to him, by the mouth of Ruth Seer,
in the name of Truth.
“Very well, tell me,” he said, struggling with his dislike. “I will cast
from me, as far as possible all preconceived objections, and, possibly,
prejudices. I will bring an open mind.”
Ruth turned, her whole face alight. “Ah, that is just what I want! Only
be as critical as you will. I want that too. That is why I wanted so
much to tell you, because you will bring a trained mind to bear on it
all. Because of that, and also because you are his friend, I can speak
about it to you. It would be very difficult to anyone else.”
She stopped, gathering herself up as it were, before she started.
“You remember the day you first came? To fetch Larry?”
North nodded.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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