THE GOVERNOR MARRIED.
Julio Murillo had become such a well-known seer by name, and also well
known through the press, from the fact that upon him alone fell the
responsibility of deciding whether the Governor would become a candidate
for the presidency of the United States of America or not.
Now that the thirty days’ time he had requested to be given him, in
which he could study the matter over, was on the eve of elapsing, the
public was in a state of great excitement, in expectation of what the
answer would be.
The Governor and Helen Hinckley had been recluses since the day of the
trial of the “Plunger from Kansas” was concluded, and the child,
Catalina Martinet, passed away. She had grown to be very dear to them,
as well as a favorite with a great many people, particularly those
persons who were interested in scientific investigations. By all she was
missed. Had it not been for the knowledge that she was with them in
spirit, and would come again in the physical life, her separation from
the Governor would be almost unbearable to him. Helen Hinckley had
remained at the Governor’s Mansion since the day after she saved him
from the clutches of the rebels. She had no home since the trouble in
the family of Francisco R. Cantu, and he wished to give her his
protection.
She was now seated in her pretty parlor connected with the suite of
rooms she occupied in her future permanent home, and was reading aloud
to the Governor’s housekeeper, a dear old lady of whom she had grown to
be very fond, the newspaper accounts of the war.
“It is only a question of a few more weeks until the uprising will be
subdued, and hundreds more will understand the law,” replied Miss
Hinckley, in answer to a question propounded by her companion.
“The paper says,” continued Miss Hinckley, “that if Señor Julio Murillo
decides to-morrow that the Governor’s name shall be entered as a
candidate for nomination to the presidency of the United States of
America, that the rebels will know their chances for severing the Union
will be smaller than at present, and they will gradually disperse,
themselves.”
“Is the question of whether he will or will not allow his name to be
used as a candidate for nomination to the presidency, to be decided
to-morrow?” asked the housekeeper.
“That is my understanding,” replied Miss Hinckley, “and while I have not
spoken to the scientist, Julio Murillo, in regard to the matter, a
knowledge comes to me from within that he will report favorably, and
when the election takes place, his Honor will be the next President of
the United States of America. From a material point of view, it is a
great honor; but from a spiritualistic point of view it is no honor.”
“Do you not believe,” replied her companion, “that the election of
Governor Lehumada will be the means of promulgating spiritual
researches?”
“His election is the only means now known that will bring about that
end. It is the inevitable, and his election will take place,” replied
Miss Hinckley.
At that moment a light knock was heard at the door. At Miss Hinckley’s
request it was opened, and Juan entered. He handed Miss Hinckley two
cards, one bearing the name of Julio Murillo, the other of Guillermo
Gonzales. On the latter was written: “We are requested by his Honor, to
see you upon a matter of much importance.”
“Show them in, Juan; show the gentlemen here at once,” replied Miss
Hinckley. “But what is the matter? You seem to be terribly distressed,”
she concluded, as Juan was leaving.
“Oh, miss,” he cried; “there is enough the matter. I have taken more
‘Memory Fluid.’”
“Is that all?” asked the housekeeper.
“That is enough, quite enough; for I now _remember_ too much,” replied
Juan.
“Then you are one of us, Juan,” said Miss Hinckley. “When the scientists
leave, Juan, come and tell us what you remember. I will not now keep you
waiting longer.”
Juan passed out, and the housekeeper arose to leave the room. “Do not
go!” exclaimed Miss Hinckley. “I wish you to be present. The interview
concerns the marriage of myself and his Honor. He has been in the most
serious meditations since the flight of dear little Catalina’s soul. I
have not seen him since the memorable day, but I have constantly heard
from him. He says it is the physical over which he yet has not perfect
control, and that makes him mourn for dear little Catalina. She has been
with him in spirit since the moment of her departure. And while he
realizes that her passing away will result in our mutual happiness, he
still grieves for her.”
A rap at the door interrupted her further comments upon the subject. The
two scientists entered, and after a cordial greeting, Guillermo Gonzales
said: “Miss Hinckley, his Honor deputized friend Julio Murillo and
myself to ascertain from you the earliest date you would consent to your
marriage (already taken place spiritually, with him) to be celebrated
publicly, and by the civil law.”
Miss Hinckley smiled and said: “The civil law must be respected, yet I
feel so little interest in it, I will leave the matter entirely in the
hands of our friend, Julio Murillo. The seer of the age is hereby
appointed master of ceremonies. Is that not a wise conclusion, Señor
Gonzales?” concluded Miss Hinckley.
“His Honor, the Governor, will be greatly pleased, Miss Hinckley, for as
you know, the Governor trusts him with all the affairs of the
Government, and he is the greatest seer of the age,” replied Guillermo
Gonzales.
Without any embarrassment whatever, at the great knowledge attributed to
him, Julio said: “The day set to nominate candidates for the office of
the presidency of the United States of America, will take place on the
twenty-third day of this month. Governor Lehumada will be nominated at
ten o’clock in the morning. At twelve o’clock the state marriage
ceremony will take place in the parlors of the gubernatorial Mansion,
and will be performed by Judge Ulloa, of the Supreme bench. After the
civil ceremony I will make the formal announcement of your spiritual
marriage, which took place some time ago; after which, a reception will
take place, and many renowned people will be present, some of whom will
be from the spirit world,” quietly concluded the great seer.
“From a human point of view I am delighted, and from a sense of the
fitness of the eternal, my soul is contented, and cries out in great joy
at the harmony of my life. Tell his Honor I am conscious of his presence
always, and of his great love for me. It is to me the ‘peace of the soul
that passeth all understanding’; the understanding, of course, of the
_uninitiated_,” said the Governor’s _fiancée_.
“To-morrow,” said Guillermo Gonzales, “will be announced publicly his
Honor’s intentions of becoming a candidate for the office of President
of the United States of America.”
“At the same time,” continued Julio Murillo, “the public announcement of
the date of your and his Honor’s marriage will be made.”
“I am content to leave everything to your judgment, friend Julio,” said
Miss Hinckley, extending her hand to them as they arose to leave.
“Then you and his Honor will have nothing to regret,” said Guillermo
Gonzales, as they passed from the room.
The Governor’s good housekeeper clasped Helen Hinckley in her arms, and
as she pressed her lips to her brow, said, with tears streaming down her
cheeks: “I am an old woman; three-score years have passed over my head,
yet I have not the knowledge of which you speak. Tell me, my child, tell
me from whom can I learn of the inner life?”
“It can only come, my good woman, from an awakening which must proceed
from within, out. It is the subjective life that must make itself felt.
The great Cause which lies back of the ‘powers that be,’ must be felt,
and that can only be done when one’s life is in tune with the great
Cause.”
“But how am I to tune my life with the Great Cause?” was the next
question.
“By making the physical life subservient to the spiritual is the first
step,” immediately replied Helen Hinckley.
“Then the taking of ‘Memory Fluid’ will do much toward the desired end,
I suppose,” said the housekeeper, evidently much interested in how to
become spiritual. “Tell me about that wonderful fluid, Miss Hinckley.
How did it affect you, and after what length of time?”
“Juan is coming, my dear woman. He no doubt will be able to explain to
you, better than I, the workings of ‘Memory Fluid,’” said Helen
Hinckley, as she drew her companion onto the sofa by her side.
As prophesied by Miss Hinckley, Juan’s steps were heard at the door, and
on being asked to come in, he entered, timidly, and dropped into the
nearest chair without any invitation. Miss Hinckley smiled to herself as
she looked at him.
The housekeeper looked worried and said: “And you have taken more
‘Memory Fluid,’ Juan? Is that why you are so sad?”
“Yes, madam, that is the reason,” replied Juan.
“Then you regret having taken it,” was her next comment.
“Not in the least,” replied Juan. “I would rather be sad for a season
and _know_, than be ignorant and happy. For the happiness of the
ignorant is not lasting. And when one recovers from the shock, which
first makes them sad, of having learned the lesson, I fancy that no
worldly affairs can mar his happiness. I understand now what dear little
Catalina meant by _things not seen by the eye or heard by the ear_.”
“Tell us, Juan, of your other lives, if you have the remembrance of any.
Mrs. Serrano is interested in ‘Memory Fluid,’” said Miss Hinckley.
“That is what I came to tell you; but I do not feel so sad about what I
know as I did a while ago. First I took two tablespoonfuls of ‘Memory
Fluid.’ In three minutes afterwards I was astonished to see myself a
little boy, walking down the street in South America, holding the hand
of the ‘Plunger from Kansas.’ I nearly fainted at the shock it gave me.
I heard him say: ‘Poor lad; his mother is gone. They are hot on my
tracks, after five years of dodging here, and were it not for the lad I
would end my existence now. What would you do, son, if you had no papa
to care for you?’ he asked, turning to me. I swelled up in great
fashion, and replied: ‘I would join the circus and be the clown.’ He was
shocked, of course; no doubt, he wished me to be a _plunger_ like
himself. Imagine my feelings, Miss Hinckley, when I was forced to
realize that _I_ was born into my first existence the son of the
‘Plunger from Kansas.’”
“You were not to blame, Juan, and now that you _remember_, see that in
your next physical existence you do not enter an inharmonious physical
dwelling,” replied Helen Hinckley.
“How interesting,” added Mrs. Serrano. “Tell us, Señor Juan, did you
join the circus and become a clown?”
Helen Hinckley smiled at her inquisitiveness, and continued: “Certainly,
friend Juan, tell us all about yourself in other lives.”
“I did, madam, and lived the life of a clown up to a ripe old age. I
broke my neck by turning a double somersault, and died without the least
pain,” said Juan.
“And did you live again before now?” eagerly asked Mrs. Serrano.
“Yes,” replied Juan, as he heaved a great sigh; “that calamity happened
to me.”
“Why do you call it a calamity?” asked Mrs. Serrano.
“Because I presented myself into a family who were intent upon opening
up missionary schools—that was in Chicago—and if they couldn’t make the
children believe as they did, by giving them a sweet cake now and then,
they used a club, and the children said they believed as they did
whether they did or not. When I was ten years old I heard my father say
that he had raked in five thousand dollars that year, over and above
expenses. When I told him he had committed a great sin, he gave me a
lick with a great club, over the back. In about an hour my soul fled,
and just before I passed over, I remember I thought how glad I would be
to get rid of such a life. You can hardly imagine how conceited I was
about my past, before taking ‘Memory Fluid.’ I thought if I had lived at
all, I certainly had been a man of very great note. I even imagined
myself in one life Julius Cæsar; in another George Washington; and yet
another, the great, though not very beloved, Santa Ana. _That_ was the
cause of my sad face when I first learned the truth. It was a great fall
for my feathers. I have knowledge now, and I do not care for the
vanities of life,” concluded Juan, as he rose to leave the room.
“You feel better, Juan,” said Miss Hinckley, “because you have had a
feast of the soul. You have been in an harmonious circle for the last
thirty minutes, and it is the first time since your awakening. Many
people with good intentions are made demons, because of inharmonious
surroundings. As you grow strong in the Light, we will enjoy many an
hour together, Juan.”
Juan left the room with a bow and a “thank you,” and Mrs. Serrano arose
and walking the floor back and forth in intense excitement, said: “My
dear child, that story is divine to me. Show me the way. I must know if
I had a past existence.”
“I can do nothing more, Mrs. Serrano, than to get you a little of
‘Liquid from the Sun’s Rays,’ known as ‘Memory Fluid.’ If you take it, I
feel quite sure that you will not be disappointed in the result,”
replied Helen Hinckley.
“Get it, child; get it, and I will take it in honor of yourself and the
good Governor.”
While Helen Hinckley knew the good housekeeper would take it mainly to
satisfy her curiosity, she cheerfully gave her a vial of the liquid, and
said: “Have no fears, Mrs. Serrano; no harm can result from it. When
your memory is restored, I will gladly take you with me on a trip
through space.”
“How charming, to be the envy of all eyes,” said the worldly Mrs.
Serrano.
Helen Hinckley made no reply, but laughed heartily as the two separated
for the night (so Mrs. Serrano thought); but Helen Hinckley knew they
would not meet again until her wedding day. She knew how keenly Mrs.
Serrano would feel the disappointment in not being able to tell her
to-morrow what she remembered, and take a trip through space, yet she
knew it was for her good, and she caused the delay.
Time in the Governor’s Mansion went very quickly, and Helen Hinckley was
as happy as a mortal can be. How that the day had arrived which would be
celebrated in her and the Governor’s honor with so much grandeur, she
could hardly realize that she was the same Helen Hinckley who came to
the great city of Chihuahua only a short time ago, homeless, friendless
and almost penniless, searching in an ill-defined way for her other
self, and for the one who had caused her to be an orphan in a life gone
by, and who was instrumental in causing her grief and sorrow in her
present life—the loss of parents, home and money.
She attributed all of her good fortune to the high life she had always
aimed to live; to her delving with things pertaining to the occult, and
the taking of “Memory Fluid.” She was happy and knew the cause, so
nothing could mar her pleasure. Before she left her room, which was at
an early hour, numerous congratulatory messages were brought to her from
President Mortingo and others of note, as well as from many others, from
various parts of the world, wholly unknown to herself and to the public.
When she was through reading the first lot of messages received, she
dressed herself in a close-fitting black gown, from the bottom of which
only her feet extended, and took a trip through space. When she reached
the very outskirts of the city, she sat down near the top of one of the
Sierra Madre mountains.
The sun was just rising, and she thought she had never seen such a
beautiful sight. Out from the rays of the sun there seemed to glide a
figure of some person. When it came closer and became more distinct, she
recognized Catalina.
The child smiled, and said: “We will be at your wedding, dear Helen.”
“I do not see anyone but you, sweet child,” said Miss Hinckley.
“I mean,” continued Catalina, “Marriet Motuble and I. She will not come,
though, unless his Honor is willing.”
“There he comes,” said Miss Hinckley, rising to meet the Governor; “ask
him.”
“You were expecting me, dear life. I can hardly realize that this is the
day to which I have so long looked forward, the day on which all the
world may know that we have conformed to the civil law and are thereby
man and wife according to human customs,” said the great Governor, as he
folded her in his arms.
“I am sure, my other self, there will be nothing to mar our happiness,
since we both remember and are conscious of having sought for each other
throughout two existences, and knew no peace until we were found,”
replied the woman whom he loved.
“Some one must be hiding close by, dear heart; in fact, I feel the
presence of many besides you,” said the Governor, glancing nervously
around.
“My other life, my dear heart, I was so rejoiced at seeing you, that I
neglected to tell you that we have company. Come; there are Catalina and
Marriet Motuble sitting by that big rock.” She led him by the hand to
the rock.
“I do not see them,” cried his Honor.
“You are too much engrossed with physical pleasures, my other life, to
see the spiritual form of the dear child you love so well, and of the
erstwhile aggressive señorita, as you were wont to call Marriet Motuble.
She wishes to get your consent to attend our marriage,” said Miss
Hinckley.
“You have spoken wisely, dear Helen. I am a little out of tune this
morning. I have allowed my vanity to be flattered by the assurance from
Julio that I am to be the next President of the great United States of
America. Yes, say to Marriet Motuble, dear Helen, that we will be
pleased to have her at our wedding assembly,” concluded the Governor.
The Governor and Helen Hinckley bade their spirit friends adieu, and
hand in hand they glided through the air, and discussed the
possibilities of the future in regard to scientific discoveries and the
growth of spiritual knowledge.
So contented were they away from the bustle of life, that they did not
realize how swiftly time was flying, and when they returned to the
Governor’s Mansion, the hour was nearly eleven-thirty. A message awaited
the Governor, announcing his nomination. Only one half-hour remained for
them to prepare for their wedding. Guests had already arrived in large
numbers. Judge Ulloa and many of the legal fraternity and scientists
clamored for the Governor, to offer their congratulations for the great
victory he had achieved.
Mrs. Grange was there, and persisted in being allowed to be the first to
congratulate the Governor.
Poor woman! She was very much cast down. Her husband had died recently,
as a result of not being able to recover from the disgrace of losing his
position through joining the rebel party and of having a wife who had
been a _subject_. Mrs. Grange was a changed woman. She endeavored to
live a higher and better life, but having the physical developed more
than the spiritual, it was difficult for her to be in this life much
different in her actions, after remembering, than her long life of
dissipation, intriguing and deceit had made her.
At Miss Hinckley’s suggestion the Governor had given her a place in the
State Library as one of the under clerks, that she might earn her daily
bread. She was still a coquette, and not much hopes were felt for her in
her present existence. It was common talk at the library that she was
laying siege to the heart of the scientist, Guillermo Gonzales; but what
impression she had been able to make no one knew but the scientist.
Promptly at eleven-thirty the bridal party entered the large parlors,
which were beautifully decorated.
Helen Hinckley was on the arm of Guillermo Gonzales, and Governor
Lehumada had for his best man the renowned seer, Julio Murillo.
Guillermo Gonzales handed Miss Hinckley to her betrothed, and Judge
Ulloa pronounced the words which, according to the civil law of the land
made these two people recognized as man and wife.
When the Governor and his bride faced the audience, the entire room
seemed suddenly to be filled with thousands of invisible musicians. Such
delightful strains of melody had never been heard by man before! The
Governor and his bride stopped, and with faces beaming with happiness
looked up, and listened intently to the divine music that seemed to come
from above.
One by one the people arose and assumed the same listening attitude.
The melodious sounds ceased for a moment, and Mrs. Grange ran forward,
clutched the arm of the Governor and cried: “Your Honor, forgive me; but
I must know from whence all of this music comes, or I will go wild. I
feel as if I would fall dumb with terror!” She threw her head around,
rolled her eyes from one side to the other, and looked the very picture
of one insane from fright.
“Dear Mrs. Grange,” said the Governor, “the music comes from my spirit
friends; they are celebrating the union of two lives between which there
is perfect harmony.”
“Catalina leads the band. You know her, do you not, Mrs. Grange?” asked
the Governor’s bride.
“I did know her,” replied Mrs. Grange, “but I do not care to know her
now. Oh, God, if to remember makes one undergo such torture as this, I
pray you to let me pass into oblivion.”
“That is how I felt,” said Juan, coming close by, “when remembrance
first came to me. You certainly would not blame me for wishing to die
and never know again, when I became conscious that my first existence
upon the physical plane was as the son of the ‘Plunger from Kansas.’”
A murmur of surprise was heard from every side. The Plunger was there,
and when asked by the Governor if he remembered Juan in a life gone by,
he exclaimed: “Yes! and great God! I was not sorry I committed suicide,
for to have seen my son a clown in a circus, when we had such great
aspirations for him, would have finished me.”
“The wrongs committed and the evil done others consciously and
unconsciously, will be obliterated in another life. This is a great
school and, friends, we all are learning. Our musical friends wish to
give us one more grand serenade before departing,” said the Governor.
Julio Murillo arose, and addressing the Governor, said: “With your
Honor’s permission, I will deliver a message to Mrs. Grange from her
husband.”
“My permission is granted, if Mrs. Grange wishes to hear it delivered,”
replied the Governor.
Mrs. Grange was hanging onto the arm of the scientist, Guillermo
Gonzales, and with one of her most bewitching smiles looked up into his
face and said: “Would it be wise to hear it, Señor Gonzales?”
The great scientist smiled, in spite of his efforts to control it, at
the conspicuous and humorous position he occupied, and said: “Dear Mrs.
Grange, it is due science that you hear his message, as well as to show
the proper respect to your once dearly beloved husband.”
In a low voice, full of emotion, she said: “Tell Señor Julio to deliver
it.”
Julio Murillo, the great seer, was the object of greatest interest to
all present, and in their eyes he was a connoisseur.
He approached near the place where the Governor and his bride had seated
themselves, and with hands outstretched, asked the Great Cause and the
powers that be, to make the great assembly of mortals present see the
spiritual serenaders; to let them surround the bridal party, and when he
had delivered the message from Mrs. Grange’s husband to her, they could
end the marriage celebration with their music.
Mrs. Grange leaned heavier and heavier upon the arm of Guillermo
Gonzales, and gazed upon the face of the Governor and this bride with
eyes that seemed charmed, and her face shone with rage and jealousy.
The eyes of everyone were riveted upon the Governor and his bride and
the scientist
Julio Murillo stood a moment, eyes lowered as if in silent prayer, then
raising his head and stepping aside, said: “They are here.”
The exclamations of “Oh’s,” and “Oh, dear,” “I see,” “I see,” “That is
Catalina,” and “Marriet Motuble,” were frequently heard.
Julio said: “Mrs. Grange, this is what your husband says: ‘Beware, Inez;
do not make so many pitfalls as you have in the past, or you will never
have an harmonious life.’” Mrs. Grange’s head fell forward when the
message was finished. Señor Guillermo Gonzales laid her on a lounge near
by. Her soul had fled.
The spirit band at that moment sent forth delicious strains of melody.
Catalina played the harp and Marriet Motuble towered above the rest at
their backs and blew a large horn; the vibrations which made the music
were so large that they could be seen by everyone.
When they had ceased, the Governor and his bride arose to leave, after
thanking those present for the honor they had paid them. As they glided
through the air out of the room, to the amazement of all, the spiritual
band followed them, playing Milton’s “Allegro.”