Part 12 (1/2)
”Oh, they don't go quite so far as that. The circles are 'very select.' Only the priests of the faith and their friends are invited--no admission fee--you understand?”
”I'm glad of that. It would be too bad to put that child forward in the double role of fakir and money-breeder; but, tell me, have you any fresh light on the subject of her mediums.h.i.+p?”
”Well, yes. I've changed my point of view slightly. I'm inclined to think there is pretty generally some basis for the faith. The literature of the subject is immense, and some of it is as well authenticated as any physical treatise. I'm convinced that Miss Lambert has no intent to deceive--she has no possible motive to do so--but Clarke has, and yet I cannot connect him directly with the phenomena.”
”How is her health?”
”Very good, apparently. She is quite as blooming as when you saw her, and is immensely more mature mentally.”
”Is she resigned to her life?”
”Sometimes she is and sometimes not. She is very sensitive to influences, and at times when Clarke is near she grows almost as enthusiastic as he--at other times she bitterly complains. I tried to free her from Clarke, but she wouldn't give me the authority necessary.”
”What do you mean by that?”
There was something both sad and mocking in Britt's face as he answered: ”I offered to marry her--wasn't that generous of me? She spurned my humble offer, intimating that there was small choice between me and Clarke and the spooks. No, I'll be honest, she was very nice and kind about it, and added that perhaps Mr. Clarke was right--her duty in the world was to 'convince people of the reality of the forces,' or something like that. 'I shall never marry,' she added, to soften the blow, and really she does seem a person set apart.”
Serviss looked down at his book. ”I suppose she imagines herself stricken with a mortal illness. I confess I sometimes think of her in that way. I can't understand why her parents--” He checked himself.
”Where are they stopping?”
”They're housed over near the Riverside Drive with a wild enthusiast who has oodles and wads of money--old Simeon Pratt.”
”I've heard of Simeon--Uncle Simeon the reporters call him on 'the Street.' I remember now about his spiritualism. He had some remarkable experiences after his wife's death--drowned, wasn't she?”
”You can't afford to be indefinite about Simeon's sorrows, doctor, for they made him what he is. I find these believers all start in about the same way. Simeon's wife and two daughters were lost in the English Channel. Simeon became a believer the following Monday--or maybe it was Tuesday.”
”I recall the story of his life now. It was all very tragic. I wonder he didn't become a maniac.”
”Some people think he did,” answered Britt, dryly.
”So they're with Simeon. He lives gorgeously, I'm told.”
”About like a lone American guest in a twenty-franc-per-day hotel in Paris. Why, yes, they're very comfortable there--all but the girl.
She's discontented and unhappy, if I'm any judge, and is besieged day and night by the mourning faithful, not to speak of certain amorous males.”
This hurt, and Serviss s.h.i.+fted ground. ”Does she keep up her music?”
Again Britt smiled, but not humorously. ”She plays the harp--in the dark.”
”You mean--”
”She's taken on a lot more of the regulation tricks--materializing flowers, slate-writing, music without hands, etc.”
”You don't mean it! I can hardly a.s.sociate such doings with her,”
sorrow and indignation mingled in his voice.
”I a.s.sure you I was there last night at a 'circle,' and these things took place with Clarke as ring-master. There wasn't a particle of originality--it was the same old mill, and the same old grist, yet I don't hold her responsible in any harmful degree. I can't believe she designedly tricks, but she's surrounded now by a gang of chattering, soft-pated women, and men with bats in their belfry, who unite in a.s.suring her that her G.o.d-given powers must be fostered. They've cut her off from any decent marriage--she's virtually a prisoner to their whims. What they may induce her to do next I don't know. I'm going to hang round here for a week or two and see.” A violent fit of coughing interrupted him. When he recovered he looked up sidewise. ”Isn't this a peach of a climate? Wouldn't you think they'd build at least one of their big cities where microbes couldn't fatten on genius?”
”What led Clarke to consent to leaving the West? When I was there he bitterly opposed her going.”