“Good-night, good-night, good-night!” she cried, and danced back behind the curtains of the cabinet, and all was still. The audience arose and began to go out of the room, and Mrs. Wylie, with a dazed, unnatural sensation, turned to her friend. “Am I asleep or dreaming?” she asked. “I feel like asking the same question,” said Mrs. Lucien. “What a wonderful experience this has been.” When they were seated in the carriage, and proceeding homeward, Mr. Wylie turned to his wife. “Well, Nellie,” he said, “what do you think of it?” “I think,” responded Mrs. Wylie slowly, “that I was hypnotized.” “Hypnotized!” exclaimed Mr. Wylie and Mrs. Lucien in unison. “Yes, hypnotized. I began to grow cold and feel so strangely as soon as that medium sat down there. I think she sat outside long enough to mesmerize us all. You remember she had them sing to distract our thoughts.” “I must say, Elinor, when you try to be idiotic you succeed a little better than any one I ever knew before you.” Mr. Wylie looked his annoyance. “But, Horace, if I was not under some influence, why did I sing and clap my hands for that spirit to dance? Do you think I would have done such an absurd and unheard of thing of my own volition?” “There’s no telling what you might or might not do, Elinor. I confess you surprise even me very frequently.” Mrs. Wylie sighed. It seemed difficult to combat the now apparently fixed belief of her husband in spirit manifestation. “Did you hear the music that seemed to be playing in the air above our heads from the moment the medium entered the room?” inquired Mrs. Lucien. “No, I did not notice it; did you, Horace?” Mr. Wylie shook his head. “How strange! I heard the sound of many instruments blending in a wonderful harmony,” murmured Mrs. Lucien. “A further proof that we were hypnotized,” replied Mrs. Wylie. “You, Mrs. Lucien, were the most susceptible and first brought under control?” Mr. Wylie looked disgusted. “A proof, Elinor, that you were too frightened to know what was transpiring about you. I am not surprised that Mrs. Lucien should perceive harmonies beyond the hearing of our ears, or of less sensitively organized ones. We were curious, antagonistic, unbelieving. We were determined not to hear and therefore were deaf to the melodies which entranced her.” “Entranced?” “Yes, I think we were all entranced, and made to see or hear anything,” replied Mrs. Wylie. CHAPTER XI THE FIRE “Again has come the Springtime, with the Crocus’s golden bloom, With the sound of the fresh-turned earth-mould and the violet’s perfume.” —Samuel Longfellow.