Mothers and sons -- Fiction; Spiritualism -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
This belief, this possible life of the soul, had nothing to do with the
systems of celestial cosmogony built up by the followers of Christ or
Gautama, its world was not peopled with angels, gods, or devils; it was
merely another and inter-fusing material region wherein the spirit of
man could move, retaining at least a dim memory of the grosser material
plane from which it fled. It was inconceivable, of course, when
scrutinized directly; but he caught a glint of its wonders now and then,
as if from the corner of his half-closed eye.
These physical marvels were kept very near to him, as he sat at his
desk, by minute tappings on his penholder, on his chair-back, and by
fairy chimes rung on the cut-glass decanter at his elbow. At times he
felt the light touch of hands, and once, as he returned to his seat
after a visit to the library, he found a sheet of strange parchment
thrust under his book, and on this was written in exquisite
old-fashioned script: "_Thou hast thy comfort and thy instrument. Hold
not thy hand._" And it was signed "Aurelius."
This was all very startling; but he referred it to Mrs. Ollnee herself.
To imagine it a direct message from the dead was beyond him.
At four o'clock the road-wagon brought from the station a small, alert,
and business-like young fellow, accompanied by various boxes, parcels,
and bags. Bartol met him at the door and took him at once to his study.
Neither of them was seen again till dinner-time.
The servants were profoundly excited by all this, but were too well
trained to betray their curiosity above stairs. They knew now who Mrs.
Ollnee was, but they believed in their master's government and listened
to the hammering in the study with impassive faces--while at their
duties in the hall or dining-room--but permitted themselves endless
conjecture in their own quarters. Marie alone took no part in these
discussions, though she seemed more excited than any of the others.
Meanwhile, Victor watched and waited in a fever of anxiety for Leo's
return. At five o'clock she came, but went directly to her room.
Marie met her tense with excitement. "Oh, Miss Leo, Master has asked me
to sit in the circle to-night, and I'm scared."
"You mean Mr. Bartol has asked you?"
"Yes--Miss."
"Well, you should feel exalted, Marie. It will be a wonderful
experience."
"I suppose so, Miss, but my hands are all cold and my stomach sick with
thinking of it."
Leo laughed. "You're psychic, that's what's the matter with you."
"Oh, do you think so!"
"Let me take your hands." Marie gave them. Leo smiled. "Cold and wet!
Yes, you are _it_! But don't let it interfere with dinner. I'm hungry as
a bear. Cheer up. I'd give anything to be a psychic."
"I shall flunk it, Miss; I can't go through it, really."
"Nonsense! It will be good as a play."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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