It must have been, she thought, after a little over an hour that the
first expected movement made itself felt--a long trembling shudder
through the wood beneath her hands, followed by a strange sensation of
lightness, as if the whole table rose a little from the floor. Then,
almost before the movement subsided, a torrent of little taps poured
itself out, as delicate and as swift and, it seemed, as perfectly
calculated, as the rapping of some minute electric hammer. This was
new to her, yet not so unlike other experiences as to seem strange or
perturbing in any way.... Again she bent her attention to the table as
the vibration ceased.
There followed a long silence.
It must have been about ten minutes later that she became aware of the
next phenomenon; and her attention had been called to it by a sudden
noiseless uplifting of the profile on her left. She turned her face to
the cabinet and looked; and there, perfectly discernible, was some
movement going on between the curtains. For the moment she could see
the medium clearly, his arms folded, indicated by the white lines of
his cuffs across his breast, his head sunk forward in deep sleep; and
at the next instant the curtains flapped two or three times, as if
jerked from within, and finally rested completely closed.
She glanced quickly at the boy on her left, and in the diffused light
from the other room could see him distinctly, his eyes open and
watching, his lips compressed as if in some tense effort of
self-control.
When she looked at the cabinet again she could see that some movement
had begun again behind the curtains, for these swayed and jerked
convulsively, as if some person with but little room was moving there.
And she could hear now, as the gusts outside lulled for a moment, the
steady rather stertorous breathing of the medium. Then once again the
wind gathered strength outside; the rain tore at the glass like a
streaming handful of tiny pebbles, and the great curtains at her side
lifted and sighed in the draught through the shutters.
When it quieted again the breathing had become a measured moaning, as
that which a dreaming dog emits at the end of each expiration; and she
herself drew a long trembling breath, overwhelmed by the sense of some
struggle in the room such as she had not experienced before.
It was impossible for her to express this even to herself; yet the
perception was clear--as clear as some presentment of the senses. She
knew during those moments, as she watched the swaying curtains of the
cabinet in the shaded light that fell upon them, and heard now and
again that low moan from behind them, that some kind of stress lay
upon something that was new to her in this connection. For the time
she forgot her undertone of anxiety as to this boy at her side, and a
curious terrified excitement took its place. Once, even then, she
glanced at him again, and saw the motionless profile watching, always
watching....
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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