THE GENESIS OF LOVE.
I must explain more fully how the scene just related was pre-arranged.
As Dr. Medjora told the Judge, it had been a common occurrence for him
to hypnotize Agnes whenever favorable occasions presented. These had
not been infrequent, because the girl had exhibited a great fondness
for the study of chemistry, and therefore often visited the Doctor in
his laboratory. Since the advent of Leon, this habit had been
discontinued, or only rarely indulged, and the Doctor, appreciating
the maidenly reserve which prompted her, had made no comment.
When, however, he decided that the time had arrived when it would be
best for him to put his scheme into operation, he had one day invited
Agnes to be present at some interesting experiments which he wished to
show. Thus she had readily been enticed to the laboratory, and then
the Doctor had hypnotized her, and subsequently led her to the chamber
where he had arranged the paraphernalia for his little scene. Before
this, he had commanded Leon to sleep, and in a similar condition the
lad had been conveyed to the couch whereon he was afterward shown to
the Judge.
The Doctor had calculated to meet opposition in the Judge, and his
hypnotic _seance_ had been conceived with the double purpose of
convincing him of the uselessness of antagonism, while at the same
time he would utilize the opportunity to suggest the idea of love to
both of the young people.
Ordinarily, by which I mean with subjects having less individuality
than these, he would have been content to operate upon one at a time;
but with Agnes and Leon, he knew that he could succeed only by acting
upon both simultaneously, and at the moment of suggesting love, to
present them each one to the other, _in propria persona_, rather than
through the imagination. He counted upon personal contact so to
intensify the suggestion, that it would not be overcome by will power
exerted in the waking state, which would ensue.
All had passed to his entire satisfaction, and he had little doubt
that his experiment would succeed, but there was still much to do.
First, he again commanded Leon and Agnes to sleep deeply, and then
leaving them slumbering on their respective couches, he bore the body
of the Judge to the floor above. Examining him closely he soon
satisfied himself that his friend had only succumbed to emotional
excitement, and that he would soon recover from his swoon. He then
took him to the study and placed him in the chair which he had
occupied earlier in the evening. Hastily returning to the secret
chamber, he brought Agnes upstairs, taking her through the hall and
down to the parlor. Here he suggested to her that, when she awakened,
she should think she had merely been visiting the house, but that it
was then time to return to her home. In a moment more she opened her
eyes, and in natural tones, which showed that she was devoid of any
suspicion of what had transpired, she asked if her father was ready to
take her home. The Doctor replied that the Judge would join her in a
few moments, and returned to the study just in time to find Judge
Dudley rubbing his eyes and staring about him bewildered. At sight of
the Doctor much of what had happened recurred to him, though he
doubted whether he had not been dreaming.
"Doctor Medjora," he exclaimed, "what has happened? Tell me! Tell me
the truth!"
"All that is in your mind has occurred," replied the Doctor, calmly.
"You have not been dreaming as you suppose, though you have been
unconscious for a brief period."
"And my daughter?" asked the Judge, anxiously.
"Agnes is waiting for you to escort her home. As it is late, I have
ordered my carriage to be at your disposal. It should be at the door
now. Will you accept it?"
The quiet tone, and the commonplace words disconcerted the Judge. He
would have preferred discussing what was pressing heavily upon his
thoughts, but after gazing steadily at his host for a moment he
decided to let the matter rest for a time. Thus he demonstrated the
truth of the Doctor's suggestion theory, for the language used, and
the manner adopted, had been chosen with the intention of producing
this effect. The Judge, however, did not entirely avoid the topic. His
reply was:
"Medjora, you have given me food for deep thought. I cannot at once
decide whether you are the greatest charlatan, or the most advanced
thinker in the world. I am inclined to give you the benefit of the
doubt. The other affair shall have my consideration. Good-night!"
"I thank you, Judge," said the Doctor, suavely, "and believe me that I
speak with sincerest truth, when I assure you that your daughter's
happiness is now, as it has always been, the chief aim of my life. I
will accompany you to the carriage."
Having seen his friends depart, the Doctor immediately sought the
secret chamber again, and brought Leon up to the laboratory, thence
taking him to his room, where he awakened him, and chatted with him
for a few minutes, after which he left him to go to rest.
During the long ride home the Judge and his daughter were both silent,
each being lost in thought. The Judge was endeavoring to disentangle
from the maze of his recollection a history of the night's events
which would appeal to his mind as reasonable. Had Agnes been asked to
proclaim her thoughts she would have replied that she was "thinking of
nothing special." Yet in a dim indefinable way she was wondering how a
woman could become so attached to a man, that she would be willing to
yield her whole life and independence to him. She was, therefore, a
little startled, when just before reaching home her father suddenly
addressed her, saying:
"Agnes, my daughter, I wish you to answer a question. Are you
particularly interested in any young man? Are you in love with any
one?"
"Why, what a question, father! Of course not!" She replied, with some
asperity, the more so because she felt the blood mount to her face,
and was annoyed at the idea that she was blushing. Her father did not
pursue the subject, but leaned back in his seat, mentally relieved. He
thought that he had received satisfactory proof that, whatever the
Doctor might make Agnes say under hypnotic influence, his spells could
not enthrall her during her waking hours. The Judge was not yet
convinced of the Doctor's suggestion theory.
When Agnes retired to rest, as she lay in her luxurious bed, her head
pillowed on soft down, with silken cover, she began to seek for an
explanation of that blush in the carriage, which she was so glad that
the darkness had screened from the eyes of her father. She argued to
herself that, as she did not love any one, and never would or could do
so, she had answered quite truthfully the question which had been put
to her. Then why the blush? She had always understood a blush to be a
sign of guilt or shame, and she was not conscious of either. She did
not readily read the riddle, and while yet seeking to unravel it, she
gently drifted away into dream-land. How long she wandered in this
mystic realm without adventure worthy of recollection I know not, but
at some hour during that night she experienced a sense of heavenly
happiness.
It seemed to her that she was walking along a trackless desert. The
sun beat down heavily, withering up the shrubbery, and drying up all
the moisture in the land. Everything about seemed parched and dying
except herself. She had a plentiful supply of water, and walked along
without fatigue or suffering from the heat. Presently she came to a
stone, upon which sat an old woman, who looked at her and begged for
water. Agnes immediately took her water-bottle, and was about to place
it to the lips of the old woman, when lo! she observed that the water
had nearly all evaporated, so that only enough was left to slake the
thirst of one person. At this she was surprised, having thought that
there was a plenty, but not even for an instant did she consider the
propriety of keeping the water for her own uses. Without hesitation
she allowed the old woman to drink all, to the last drop. In a second,
the woman had disappeared, and in her place there was a most beautiful
being, a fairy, as Agnes readily recognized, from the many
descriptions which she had heard and read. The fairy thus addressed
her:
"My dear, you have a kind heart, and shall be rewarded. Presently you
will leave this desert, and come into a garden filled with delicious
flowers. Choose one, and the wish that enters your heart as you pluck
it shall be gratified. But of two things I must warn you. The flowers
are all symbolic, and your wish can only be appropriate to the blossom
of your choice. Second, you can go through the garden but once; you
cannot retrace your steps. So be careful how you decide."
As the last words were uttered, the fairy vanished, and Agnes walked
on, hoping soon to enter the garden of promise. A mile farther, and
the fragrance of many flowers was wafted towards her on a light zephyr
which now tempered the heat of the sun. She hastened her steps, and
very soon stood before a curiously carved gate made of bronze. As she
approached, the gate opened, and admitted her, but immediately closed
again behind her, thus proving the correctness of what the fairy had
said. In all directions before her were rose-bushes in bloom, but she
observed that the whole appeared like a huge floral patch-work quilt,
because all of one kind had been planted together, so that great
masses of each color was to be seen on every side. Just before her the
roses were all of snowy whiteness. She moved along a glittering path,
and admired the flowers, ever and anon stooping over one more
exquisite than its neighbors, and pressing her face close against its
petals, inhaling its sweet fragrance. When she thus stooped over the
largest and choicest which she had yet seen, a tiny sprite appeared
amidst the petals, and, stretching out his arms invitingly, addressed
her in a voice which reminded her of a telephone.
"Maiden fair, choose this blossom. Pluck this bloom, and wear it in
thy bosom forever. In return thou shalt be the purest virgin in all
the world, for these roses are the emblems of Chastity!"
But, for reply, Agnes shook her head gaily, and merely said: "All that
you promise is mine already," and then passed on.
The next were gorgeous yellow roses. They were rich in color and regal
in form and stateliness, as on long stems each full-blown rose stood
boldly forth above the bush of leaves below. Again a sprite popped out
his head, and oped his lips:
"Stop here, fair girl. Pluck one of these, and thereby gain Wealth and
all that wealth implies. These are the symbols of gold!"
"I want no more of wealth," said Agnes, and again she refused the
tempting offer. The next were roses of a size as great as those just
left behind. There was just as much of fragrant beauty, too, or even
more, perhaps, in these most glorious roses, just blushing pink.
"Choose one of us, dear girl, and Beauty will adorn thy cheek forever
more!" the little sprite invited, but once more Agnes would not
acquiesce, and so went on.
What next appeared was somewhat puzzling. The bushes were filled with
buds, but at first she could not find a single flower in full bloom.
At last, however, she did espy just one, a rose of crimson color and
luscious fragrance. With a strange yearning in her breast, she
stooped, and almost would have plucked it, when, as she grasped the
stem, a sharp pain made her desist. She looked at her hand and saw a
drop of blood, of color which just matched the rose. A silvery laugh,
like the ripple of a mountain brook, attracted her, and she looked up
to see a little fellow, with bow and quiver, smiling at her from the
centre of the flower.
"Fair maiden," said the sprite, "if thou wouldst taste the joy of
paradise, the happiness which transcends all other earthly pleasure,
choose one of these unopened buds. Take it with thee to thy home, and
nurse it as thou wouldst care for thine own heart. Tend it, nourish
it, and cherish it. Then, in time, it will expand and unfold, and from
its petals you will see emerge, not a tiny sprite like me, but the
spirit face of one such as thou, though of other sex, who will arouse
within thy breast that endless ecstacy which men call Love. For these
deep red roses are the emblems of Love!"
Without hesitation Agnes plucked the largest bud within her reach,
unmindful of the pricking thorns which pierced her flesh, and then
hurried on, passing the roses of Wisdom, and many other flowers of
great attractiveness. And as she ran the wish that surged up in her
soul was that the words of the sprite might prove true, and that she
might see that face: the face of him who was born to be her master;
the one for whom she would slave, and be happy in her slavery.
Then it seemed that she was at home again, in her own room, and that
the cherished bud was in her most beautiful vase. She thought that she
supplied fresh water, placed the vase where the sun would kiss the bud
for one full hour every day and in every way did all that she could
devise to hasten its maturing. At last one morning, a tiny bit of
color gladdened her eyes as the first tips of the petals burst from
their sheath and pushed themselves out into the great world. From that
hour, as the bud slowly unfolded, she felt within her heart a
sympathetic feeling which was a pleasure and yet was painful too. It
seemed as though the fate of the flower was interlaced with her own so
tightly, that if it should die, why then no longer would she wish to
live. And so she waited and watched and tended the blooming rose with
anxious patience, awaiting that hoped-for day when the promise of the
fairy, and the sprite, would be fulfilled. But the days went by, and
at last the rose began to fade, and as the petals dropped away one by
one, she felt an answering throb as she thought that her hope would
die. At length, when half of the rose lay a shower of dead petals on
the table around the vase, it seemed as though she could no longer
endure the suspense. She became desperate, and determined to end it
all by destroying the rose which had caused her such sweet hope, and
such bitter disappointment. She grasped the flower and took it from
the vase, but, as she essayed to crush it, her soul was filled with
remorse and she hesitated. She gazed at it for a time, as tears filled
her eyes, and finally with a sob of pain she began to dismember the
bloom, plucking the petals one by one and throwing them idly in her
lap. At last, only a half dozen remained about the heart of the
flower, when in an instant she was amazed and overjoyed to see a face
slowly emerge from amidst the stamens. At the same moment an
overpowering fragrance welled up and enthralled her senses, so that
she almost sunk into unconsciousness. Then, as she knew that her hope
was realized, that the fairy's promise was fulfilled, and that Love
was within her grasp, she leaned forward eagerly, to scan the feature
of the face before her. It was but a miniature, but after a very brief
scrutiny she readily recognized it, and knew that it was Leon's. With
a cry of surprise she awakened, while all the details of the dream
were yet fresh within her mind.
As the morning sun shed a ray across the features of Agnes Dudley, now
freed from the bondage of sleep, it illumined a puzzled countenance.
Agnes could not quite understand the feelings which swayed her heart.
The sense of gladness was new, as was also a dread anxiety which rose
up, and almost suffocated her as she thought, "It is only a dream!"
She had dreamed of love, and she had coupled Leon with that idea in
some way, but why should it disturb her to find that it was but a
dream? Surely she could not be in love with Leon? Of course not! The
very thought was preposterous, even coming to her as it had, while she
was asleep. Springing out of bed she was astonished to find that it
was already nine o'clock, for usually she was an early riser. She
began dressing hurriedly, and rang for her maid. When the girl came
she brought with her a beautiful bunch of red rosebuds, half blown.
Instantly Agnes was reminded of her dream, but when she noted that a
card was attached, and read upon it the words, "With the compliments
of Leon," she felt a blush creep over her face, neck, and shoulders,
which made her for the first time in her life feel ashamed. She was
ashamed because she thought that the maid might observe and understand
her confusion, and she was very angry with herself to find that so
simple a gift should so disturb her. She sent the maid away that she
might once more be alone. Then she read the card again, and noted the
signature more closely. Why should he sign only his first name? That
was a privilege accorded only to very close friendship. It seemed
presumptuous, that the first note received by her from this young man
should be so signed. She certainly would show him that she resented
what he had done. Indeed she would! Then, with an impulse which she
did not analyze, she crushed the buds to her lips and kissed them
rapturously. In another moment she realized what she was doing, and
again a blush colored her fair skin, and as she observed it in her
mirror, she exclaimed, half aloud:
"A red blush, the symbolic color of love!" She paused, retreating
before her own thought. But there was no repressing it. "Do I love
him?" She did not reply to this aloud, but the blush deepened so that
she turned away from the glass, that she might hide the evidence of
her own secret from herself.
If the Judge could have guessed what was passing through the mind of
his daughter, he might have more fully respected the suggestion theory
which Doctor Medjora had propounded to him. As it was, a night's
sleep, and an hour's consideration of the matter on the following day,
enabled him to conclude that there was nothing about which he need
disturb himself. He had come to admit, however, that assuredly Agnes
was a wonderfully healthy and intellectual girl, and he was willing to
accord some credit therefor to her association with his friend, the
Doctor. Feeling consequently indebted to Dr. Medjora, he hastened to
write to him that he would immediately take the steps necessary for
his legal adoption of Leon, and for giving the lad the name Medjora.
The receipt of this letter gratified the Doctor very much, and for the
rest of the day he was in high spirits.