Part 46 (2/2)
”That is my father you saw outside--the Rev. George Vesey. He's a dipsomaniac.”
Miss Macleod started, which, under the circ.u.mstances, was not unnatural. Her nephew stared with all his eyes and spectacles. Miss Vesey was a fine young woman, about nineteen years of age. The most prominent feature in her really intellectual countenance was a pair of large and radiant black eyes.
”I'm engaged in his cure,” she added.
”I have called,” remarked Miss Macleod, perhaps deeming it wiser to ignore the young lady's candid allusion to her father's weakness, ”with reference to an advertis.e.m.e.nt about some apostle spoons.”
Miss Vesey, still seated on the music-stool, clasped her hands behind her head.
”Oh, that's one of his swindles,” she said.
”One of his swindles!” echoed Miss Macleod.
”He's agent for a Birmingham firm. He finds it a good dodge to put in advertis.e.m.e.nts like that. Each person who buys thinks she gets the only set he has to sell; but he sells dozens every week. It's drink has brought him to it. But I'm engaged in curing him all round. The worst of it is that when I begin to cure him, he runs away. He was just going to run away when you came to the gate.”
”If what you say is correct,” said Miss Macleod grimly, ”I should say the case was incurable--save by the police.”
”Ah, that's because you don't understand my means of cure: I'm a magician.”
”A magician!”
There was a pause. Miss Macleod eyed Miss Vesey keenly, Miss Vesey returning the compliment by eyeing her.
Miss Macleod was a woman of the day. Openly expressing unbelief in all the faiths that are old, she was continually on the look-out for a faith that was new. She had tried spiritualism and theosophy. She had sworn by all sorts of rogues and humbugs--until she found them out to be rogues and humbugs, which, to her credit be it said, it did not take her long to do. Just at that moment she was without a fetish. So that when Miss Vesey calmly announced that she was a magician, she did not do what, for instance, that very much more weak-minded person than herself, her nephew, would have done--she did not promptly laugh her to scorn.
”What do you mean by saying you're a magician?” she inquired.
”I mean what I say. I have my magic here.”
Miss Vesey laid her hand on the piano.
”I suppose you mean that you're a fine pianist.”
”More than that. With my music I can do with men and women what I will. I can drive the desire for drink out of my father for days together; I can make him keep sober against his will.”
Miss Macleod turned towards her nephew.
”This is my nephew. Exercise your power upon him.”
”Aunt!” cried the Rev. Alan.
Miss Vesey laughed.
”Shall I?” she asked.
”You have my permission. You say you can do with men and women what you will. He will be a rich man one of these fine days. Make him marry you.”
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