THE BETROTHAL.
The Judge offered very slight resistance as Doctor Medjora urged him
forward, and even in the pitchy darkness of the laboratory he made no
effort to free himself. He was no coward, and in defying this man whom
so many feared, he showed that he feared no man.
The Doctor went straight to the trap-door, and began to descend the
stairway. His reason for having no light in the laboratory was, that
he did not wish the Judge to know by what way they went down. As the
trap-door was open, he would not suspect its existence; all that he
would be able to recall would be that they had descended a flight of
stairs. Should he enter the laboratory, at some future time, he would
be unable to discover the way to the crypt below.
But it was not to the temple of AEsculapius that the Doctor now led his
companion. He had decided not to divulge that secret to any other
person, besides Leon. Mr. Barnes, it is true, had been taken into the
crypt, but by hypnotic suggestion the Doctor had eradicated all
recollection of that visit. You will remember that on the night when
the Doctor had controlled Mr. Barnes by making him sleep, he had
subsequently taken him through an old wine cellar. This vault still
existed, though it had been remodelled at the time when the new house
was built.
It was into this secret chamber that the Doctor now took the Judge.
Closing the door behind him, he touched a button, and an electric lamp
illumined the apartment.
The chamber was comfortably carpeted and furnished, and in all ways
presented the appearance of a luxurious living room, except that there
were no windows. On this night, a silk curtain, stretched across from
wall to wall, seemed to indicate that there was something beyond. What
that was, at once arrested the attention of the Judge, but he
exhibited no curiosity by asking questions, preferring to await the
unfolding of events as they might occur.
"Now, Judge," said the Doctor, "I must ask you to pardon my having
brought you here. I may also have seemed rude or brusque in manner,
which you must set down to excitement, rather than to malicious
intent. You understand that I would not harm my friend?"
"I have no fear!" replied the Judge, coldly.
"Be seated, please," said the Doctor, and then both took chairs.
"Judge Dudley," continued the Doctor, "I have expressed to you my
opinion that I have a claim upon your daughter. You have denied it.
Or, rather, you have probably conceded in your mind that what I have
done for Agnes creates an obligation, but you are not willing to admit
that on that account I should have the privilege, of selecting her
husband? Do I state the facts clearly?"
"Sufficiently so! Proceed!"
"Very well! I have brought you to this apartment to demonstrate to
you, first, that the obligation is greater than you suspect, and
secondly, that your daughter's fate is entirely in my hands. In fact
that you are powerless to oppose my will."
"I have, perhaps, more determination than you credit me with. It will
be difficult for you to swerve me from my purpose."
"Those men, who have the strongest wills, are the ones most easily
moved. You are as just, as man ever is. When you learn that your
daughter's happiness, after this night, will depend entirely upon her
marriage with Leon, you will yield."
"I certainly would make any sacrifice for the happiness of my
daughter. But I must be convinced."
"You see! Already you are amenable to reason. I will proceed. Judge
Dudley, a while ago I told you something of the present theories
concerning the existence of germs which affect physical life. I also
explained to you, how, by using greater knowledge than has as yet been
generally disseminated, I have succeeded in producing in the person of
your daughter a physically perfect being; one who cannot be attacked
by bodily ailments. I will now unfold to you some theories which are
even more in advance of the thought of to-day. It has long been
conceded that man is a dual creature; that is, there is a material
and, I will say, another side, to every human being. What is that
other side? It is immaterial; it is intangible but nevertheless we
know that it exists. At death there remains everything of the physical
body that existed a moment before. What then has departed? An instant
before death, a muscle will lift a given weight, and a second after,
long before mortification of the flesh could operate to disintegrate
the fibres, we find that one tenth of that weight will suffice to tear
the same muscle. What then is this potential power which has left the
body? For the purposes of the present argument, I shall call it the
psychical side of man. The physical and the psychical, dwelling in
harmonious unison, produces a living creature. This much is plain, and
of course presents no new thought to you."
"True, but I suppose you are leading to something else?"
"Yes! The introduction is necessary. Given then these two divisions of
human life, and, I submit it to you, is it not curious that the
physical has received a hundred times as much study as has the
psychical? With myself it has been different. I have studied both
together, because I have ever found them together. I argued that I
could never fully comprehend the one, without an equal knowledge of
the other. So I know as much about the psychical side of life as I do
of the physical."
"Then you must know a great deal!"
"I do! In the beginning of my career I grasped one truth, which seems
to have escaped the majority. The secrets of Nature are simple. We do
not discover the mysteries, because we think them more mysterious than
they are. The key to the knowledge of Nature's methods is in her
analogies. All natural laws operate on parallel lines, because the aim
of all is the same; evolution towards perfection. Thus, in studying
the psychical, I had but to master the physical and then discover the
analogy which exists between the two."
"And you claim to have done this?"
"In a great measure. Leon, before he dies, will achieve more than I,
because he will begin where I shall be compelled to abandon my work.
But I have accomplished more than any other mortal man, and that is a
gratifying thought, to an egotist. There is but one phase of this
subject which I wish to submit to you. I have explained the germ
theory of disease. I will now announce to you the germ theory of
crime."
"The germ theory of crime?" asked the Judge, utterly amazed. "Do you
mean that crime is produced by bacteria? As a jurist, I certainly will
be interested in your new doctrine."
"You do not yet grasp my meaning. It is manifestly impossible that
bacteria, which are living parasites, could affect the moral side of a
man. I have said that the secret is in analogy; the two germs, the
physical and the psychical, are not identical. But I will start your
thought in the right direction, when I say that all forms of vice and
crime are diseases, as much as scarlet fever or small-pox. It is a
curious fact that many great secrets which have escaped the individual
have been recognized by the multitude. Many expressions in the
language, which are counted as metaphorical, are truly exponents of
unrecorded facts. One says that a girl has died of a 'broken heart,'
without suspecting that disappointed love has been known to cause an
actual heart rupture, demonstrable by _post-mortem_ examination. So,
to return to my subject, people say that an immoral man has 'a
diseased imagination,' without realizing that they state the exact
condition from which he suffers."
"Why, if such were the case, it would be improper to punish
criminals!" Such an idea seemed rank heresy to the Judge.
"It is entirely wrong to punish criminals. We should however imprison
them, because they are dangerous to the community. But their
incarceration should be precisely similar to the forcible confinement
of individuals suffering with diseases which threaten to become
epidemic, and for very similar reasons. First, to endeavor to effect
their cure, and second, and most important, to prevent the spread of
the malady."
"You mean that jails should be reformatories?"
"Exclusively. Moreover, the length of the confinement should not be
regulated by statute, but should depend upon the intensity of the
attack of crime or vice, which has occasioned the arrest of the
prisoner. He should be jailed until cured, just as a leper is, even
though it be for life. However, I cannot now discuss that aspect of
the question. I wish to more fully explain the germ theory of crime."
"I am impatient to hear you." In his interest in the subject the Judge
had almost forgotten his recent feeling of animosity.
"The idea then is this. Suppose that a babe could be born, with a
perfect psychical endowment. We would have a being in whom all the
higher virtues would predominate, while the vices would be
non-existent. But take such an individual and place him in an
environment where he would daily be associated with vice in its worst
form and it would be inevitable that he would become vicious, for
crime is as contagious as small-pox. The germ of a physical disease is
a parasite so small in some instances, that when placed under a
microscope and magnified one thousand times, it then becomes visible
as a tiny dot, which might be made by a very sharp pencil. The germ of
crime is even more minute and intangible. It exists as a suggestion."
"A suggestion?"
"Yes! Suggestion is the most potent factor in the affairs of the
world. There is never a suggestion without an effect. Wherever it
occurs an impression is created. No living man is free from its
influence. A common example which I might cite is the congregation of
a crowd. Without knowing what he goes to see, a man crosses the street
and swells a growing crowd merely because others do so. The idea is
suggested, and the impulse becomes almost irresistible. Even if
resisted, the temptation will be appreciated. The suggestion has
produced an effect. To explain the specific growth of a crime by this
means, I will remind you of the woman who, when leaving home, told her
children not to go into the barn and steal any apples, but that if
they did go, above all things not to lie about it when she should
return. Of course they went, and of course they lied to her upon her
return. She had suggested both actions to them. The child who sees
theft for the first time, may look upon it with abhorrence, because
home influence has suggested to it that stealing is wrong. But permit
a daily association with theives, and the abhorrence will pass into
tolerance, and thence into imitation."
"I begin to perceive your meaning, and after all it is only the old
idea, that conscience is merely the result of education."
"Precisely so! But that very expression is but another example of the
indefinite recognition of an important fact. You say my theory is old.
Perhaps! But my utilization of it is new. Just as there are pathogenic
bacteria which produce disease, so there are also non-pathogenic
bacteria which not only do not cause bodily affliction, but which
actually are essential and conducive to perfect health. The one takes
its sustenance by destroying that which is needed by man, at the same
time generating poisons which are deleterious, while the latter
thrives upon that which is harmful to the human body. Analogously,
just as there are germs, or suggestions which debase the morality, so
also there are suggestions which produce the highest moral health."
"That seems probable enough!"
"By the means which I have explained to you, your daughter was born,
immune to all diseases. You have heard that certain maladies, as
consumption, can be transmitted, and are therefore inherited. This is
not true. But a parent who has suffered with phthisis, may transmit to
his progeny what is termed a diminished vital resistance. The child is
not born consumptive, but he is poorly equipped to contend against the
germ of that disease. If thrown into contact with it, consumption will
probably follow. But it is possible that as he matures his environment
may be such, that his vital resistance may increase, so that the time
might come when he would not acquire the disease, even though brought
into contact with it. The reverse follows as a logical deduction.
Agnes was born with an enormous stock of vital resistance, which would
operate to protect her from all diseases. But it would have been
possible for her to degenerate as she matured. This I guarded against.
By cultivating her companionship, and yours, I have had access to her
at all times, and I have periodically supplied her with potions
containing those germs which are conducive to health. In a similiar
way, I have cared for her psychical life, by advancing her moral
nature!"
"What is that? I do not comprehend your meaning!"
"I have said that no person is exempt from the influences of
suggestion. But it has been demonstrated that, when hypnotized, an
individual is singularly susceptible to suggestion, and many phenomena
have been recorded. But as yet little practical use has been made of
this knowledge. With me it has been an endless source of power.
Especially have I used hypnotic suggestion for the moral advancement
of your daughter!"
"You mean that you have hypnotized Agnes?" The Judge was stunned by
the announcement.
"I began the practice when she was five years of age, and have
continued it up to the present moment. By this means I have made her
psychically as perfect as she is physically. I have inculcated in her
the highest virtues, and I have taught her to love intellectuality
above all things. Thus again I show you a claim that I have upon her.
But the highest obligation is that which is based upon the good of the
world, and the advancement of science. She is now so fond of knowledge
that she would never marry any ordinary man. There is but one man
living, to whom she can be united, and be happy, and as yet she does
not suspect it. That one is Leon. Do you not see that you must consent
to this union?"
"Not yet! I must be convinced of the truth of all the extraordinary
things which you have told me."
"You ask for proof? You shall have it! For that I brought you here!
Watch what you shall see, but stir not, however great may be the
temptation. If you make an effort to interfere, it would be doubly
useless, first, because I would restrain you by physical strength, and
second, because though you will see your daughter, you will be unable
to make her see or hear you. Beware how you trifle with what you do
not understand! A false move on your part might mean a lifelong injury
to Agnes. Behold!"
The Doctor touched a spring and the silk curtains parted. The Judge
started forward with a cry, but the Doctor grasped him by the arm and
cried "Beware!" upon which he subsided, but gazed with intense anxiety
upon what followed.
Behind the curtains, there appeared a sort of stage, which was divided
in half by yet another curtain. To one side, Leon lay reclining on a
couch, as though asleep, his eyes closed. On the other side, Agnes lay
in similar posture. The Doctor spoke:
"Agnes! When I command you to do so, you will open your eyes, and
awaken enough so that you may speak to me! You will see me! You will
hear my voice! But you will neither see nor hear any other person!
Awaken!"
Agnes slowly opened her eyes, and gazed steadily towards the Doctor.
Otherwise, she did not move.
"You see and hear me?" asked the Doctor.
"Yes!"
"Do you see any other person?"
"No!"
"Agnes, I wish to question you upon a very important subject. Will you
reply truthfully?"
"I will reply. Of course it will be truthfully, because I do not know
falsehood."
"Do you love any one, so that you would marry him?"
"I do not know what love is. I do not know what marriage means for
me."
The Judge breathed a sigh of relief as he heard these words. He
thought that his daughter was safe, but even yet he did not comprehend
the power of the man beside him.
"I will now tell you what it is to love. Listen!"
"I will listen!"
"In heaven's name, Medjora," cried the Judge, "go no further!" He
grasped the Doctor's arm as he made the appeal, but he might as well
have addressed a thing of stone. He was unheeded. The Doctor
proceeded:
"Somewhere in a secret corner of thy soul, as yet unreached, there is
a spot more sensitive than all the rest. A single vibration
penetrating there, if harmonious and according with thine own desires,
would awaken a joyousness to which all other joys compare as the odor
of the rankest weeds to the fragrance of the sweetest rose. A
thousand, thousand dreams of happiness are insignificant to the thrill
which courses through the veins when that centre of thy soul is
touched by love. Forever and forever after, wilt thou be a different
being; thine old self cast behind and buried in the oblivion of the
past, whilst thy new existence will remain incomplete, until coupled
with that other dear one, whose glancing eye hath pierced and found
the deepest corner of thy heart. But this is not all. If the first
recognition of the existence of thy love be delirious ecstacy, by what
name shall I nominate that joy which issues from the consummation of
thy heart's desire, when thy love is perfected by a union with one
that loves thee better than he loves himself? This is love! Wouldst
thou not taste it?"
The girl's lips quivered, and she spoke as one enraptured.
"I would! I would! O give me love! Love! Sweet, sweet love!"
"Thy wish shall be gratified. Look towards that curtain!"
She raised herself into a sitting position, and did as directed.
"Now sleep until I bid thee awaken into love! Sleep!"
The eyelids closed, and the bosom heaved gently as the girl slumbered.
The Doctor addressed Leon.
"Leon! Awaken! I have promised you that you shall meet your future
love. She will be life and love to you forever! Awaken!"
Leon stirred, opened his eyes, and looked at the Doctor.
"You cannot see anyone unless I tell you! Look towards that curtain!"
Leon obeyed, and he and Agnes were gazing towards each other, but the
silk curtain divided them.
"Now sleep, and when you again awaken, your happiness will be
complete!"
Leon's eyes closed. The Doctor touched another spring, and the curtain
was drawn aside. At the same instant a fragrant aroma filled the
apartment, as though the sweetest incense were burning. He stood a
moment in silence, gazing upon the two figures who looked at each
other, but did not see. The Judge was overcome so that he found it
difficult to speak. He essayed to address the Doctor, but his tongue
was heavy, and words were impossible. The Doctor looked towards him an
instant, as a slight gurgling sound issued from his lips, and he saw
the appeal in the father's eyes; but swiftly he turned away and spoke:
"Awaken! Awaken both! Leon and Agnes, awaken! Awaken and love!" Having
reached the climax of his experiment, even the Doctor himself felt a
twinge of anxiety lest he might fail. But, as the possibility flashed
across his brain, he cast it out again and gazed the more intently at
the scene before him. The Judge also watched in dread anxiety, and
with waning strength. He hoped almost against hope that the trick
would fail.
Leon opened his eyes, and instantly rested them upon Agnes. No sign of
recognition appeared upon his face, but only admiration was pictured
there. The girl awakened, too, and her eyes gazed upon Leon's face.
Instantly there was a convulsive trembling, and she breathed heavily.
Her lips parted and closed, again and again. It seemed as though a
word sought utterance, but was restrained by some secret emotion. Leon
began to move towards her, his eyes fixed upon hers, and an expression
of ecstatic pleasure spreading over his features. Slowly but surely he
advanced, and, as he approached, Agnes trembled more and more.
A swift alteration in the attitude of the girl then took place. In one
instant she became thoroughly controlled; all quivering ceased. She
stood erect, exhibiting to its fullest her marvellously attractive
form. Then, with a bound, she sprang forward, and cast herself upon
the breast of her dream-land lover, with a cry that went straight to
the heart of her father.
"Leon! Leon! I love you! I love you!" she exclaimed, and as the youth
folded her in an enraptured embrace, Judge Dudley fell to the floor
senseless.