medicine,” said Adele. “It’s very curious how quickly her mind
becomes quiet when I don’t say a word, only let her know with
caresses _how we all love her_.”
When Adele made this remark to the Doctor, he could only reiterate
what Adele and her mother had already told each other by sympathetic
touch. “Yes, the greatest thing on earth is love, the beginning and
ending of the greatest good; and it is indeed a notable fact in
sacred history that Christ made more cures by the instrumentality of
touch, bloodless operations so to speak, than in any other way; in
fact, Christ conquered Science and soared away beyond.”
This assertion seemed to impress Adele most seriously; then her mind
turned towards some particular incident in her own experience.
“I made several cures myself when I was nursing in the hospital. I
cured one of the physicians, a young man, a mere boy.”
“How, may I ask?” The Doctor was very inquisitive.
“Put my first finger on his lips--he knew instantly what I said--‘You
had better not talk so much.’”
“Was he indeed cured?”
“Yes, instantly. He had been rather verdant before, but after his
cure he turned a lovely pea-green. Doctor, physicians ought to look
into this touchy-method; there’s more psychology than medicine in
it--that’s why it cures.”
“What a queer girl you are,” thought the Doctor, serious himself; and
then recalled what she had just said about her mother, “we all love
her,” not “how I love her,” but “how we all love her”; assuming that
her own affection for her mother must be common to all the party.
The Doctor cogitated over this: “I can understand mother’s love,
and its response in all human kind; filial love, brother’s love,
sisterly affection, and much that is implied thereby, they are innate
in all races; but when it comes to thinking and speaking and acting
as if all others are sharing our affection for the one we love in
particular, as Adele assumed, then I think a still nobler spirit
exists, something borne in from without must have been granted
her. She seems even unnaturally good. Here am I looking for this
something-worth-knowing as manifested by races at large to-day, and
I hear much in India about the brotherhood-of-man; yet, right here
under my eyes appears a girl manifesting it in her experience, as if
she knew more about it and its differentiations, truly, than any of
us. Now one might say that each individual loves his own parents,
or ought to; and certainly here in Asia what they call ancestral
veneration does obtain without necessarily much ardent love; but all
that is a very different thing from seeing the very best of one’s
self in others, and acknowledging it--feeling that one is but an
exponent of the good in all, yet without conceit. That appeals to me
as the work of the Holy Spirit in man; one may say unnatural, because
more than natural; and that is to be born again--spiritual rebirth.”
The illness of Mrs. Cultus soon manifested another phase. No matter
how incongruous her delusions or hallucinations might be, her own
character, the principle of her own individuality, always dominated;
the energy which lies deeper than even the manifestation of life,
on which the identity of man and his existence and the continuance
of his existence depend, was never inactive; the principle of
individuality which determines both the form of character and the
physical frame, as well as the connection between them, was never
violated. It was Carlotta Gains Cultus _herself_; from her came the
thoughts. They were not words put into her mind by suggestions from
others.
One of her delusions was that she had lost all her money, her
fortune, and was now in a foreign land among many strangers to whom
she might be obliged to appeal, in case family necessities forced
them to work for their living. From her point of view this was the
direst calamity conceivable. She expressed herself, however, with
that peculiar tact which showed how all the characteristics she had
inherited from her father were rooted and grounded in her very being.
She was talking to Miss Winchester:
“Frank, do you think the people over here would like it if the
Professor should lecture before them? Would he draw good houses?”
Miss Winchester smiled, but knowing full well that Mrs. Cultus could
not be easily deceived, and would not be satisfied by anything
indefinite, answered as if serious:
“Of course, he’d draw, once or twice, on account of his reputation;
but I doubt about keeping it up.”
“Why not, Frank?”
“India’s a complicated place, you know; only Jadoo Wallahs and
balloon ascensions draw intelligent people--h’m!--native crowds don’t
count any more than middle-of-the-road people do at home; now and
again a polo or cricket match, even the theatres are at a discount.”
“Couldn’t we try the Bishop and his set?”
“Certainly; if for charitable purposes.”
“Oh, dear! dear!” said the patient dolefully, “not yet charity, not
yet.” Then in a low, troubled voice: “I suppose Adele and I must do
something, ourselves. What can we do? I feel so helpless, so weak!”
Another expedient soon suggested itself. It was sad to see her thus
frantically trying to think to some purpose; finally the effort was
successful.
“Frank, do they play whist over here?” and then realizing that the
object must be clearly understood: “I could give lessons myself, but
dear Adele, my precious darling! it would be too much for her, she
never took to whist.” The poor woman seemed so serious, the situation
was really pathetic.
XXX
CONVALESCENCE AND COMMON SENSE
These periods of hallucination, mingled with very practical
considerations, continued for some days, until the fever ran its
course. Fortunately it is not within the scope of this story to note
the progress of physical ailments; it is more timely to note the
effects upon the mental and the spiritual life of an excellent woman
ever true to herself and to others, even during hallucinations. It
was fortunate also that Mrs. Cultus herself relieved her attendants
of any uncertainty in the matter.
She had just passed through a period of exceptionally vivid
impressions of disaster, when one of those flashes of clearer
perception, before referred to, came to her rescue; whether merely
a reaction from her previous weak condition, or because she was so
thoroughly frightened by what she had conceived as possible, need not
now be discussed. That she did brighten up marvelously and manifest
then and there a permanent change for the better, was a fact. And
again it was Miss Winchester who was with her.
“Frank,” said Mrs. Cultus composedly, and with an air of finality,
“I’ve made up my mind; I’m determined.”
“You don’t say so--good!--about what?”
“To get well, that’s the first thing. I can’t stand this being a care
to others.”
“You are better, I’m sure; much better.”
“Not much as yet, but I can see it. I will be.”
Miss Winchester gave a little start. “See it? see what?” fearing lest
the patient was again off at a tangent after more disasters. But Mrs.
Cultus, having obtained a mental grip upon herself, would not let go,
even if she still felt weak physically.
“Tell me what you see,” said Miss Winchester gently, taking her by
the hand, and continuing to wave the fan she held.
“Oh, Frank! what a terrible thing it would be to be caught in such a
predicament, and unprepared!”
“How, my dear?”
“I’ve been imagining all sorts of things--these Indian beds are not
the best sort for me, I fear; I’ve been imagining--nonsense, of
course, for us--but just think how awful it would be to lose one’s
means of support! be forced to work for a living! and then not be
able to succeed; I mean when the real thing does happen.”
“The world is full of cases like that.”
“Yes, I knew that before; but now I have actually felt it, just as if
it were true in our own case. I was sort of luny all the time, even
when my head floated off like a balloon. I thought it was serious,
and I suffered as much as if it had really been true. Why, poor
Adele--it would have killed me to see her in such hard circumstances.
Adele would have--let me think--I’m wrong! Adele would not have----”
A strange expression came over her countenance, as if something
ineffably joyous and precious was just revealed to her. She closed
her eyes, and evidently was seeing the image of her daughter in a new
light.
Miss Winchester kept on fanning her gently, hoping she would soon
fall asleep.
But Mrs. Cultus’ spiritual discernment had been quickened; and with
it came the real, true conquest over both physical weakness and
mental vagaries. Her eyes opened again, they were clearer than
ever; her voice had a new depth, and was certainly more sympathetic
than before the fever began--it manifested the spiritually melodious
quality in essence.
“What about Adele?” asked Miss Winchester tenderly.
“Oh! I love her so much! She is so much to me; I cannot tell you how
much.”
“We all love her,” said Miss Winchester, innocently repeating the
very words Adele had used when speaking of her mother.
“Yes, I know that, too; no one knows it better than I; but I now see
something about her I never saw before so clearly.”
“Tell me what it is.”
“Frank!--a mystery! Adele _is_ prepared. She is ready for anything
that may happen. None of us need ever fear for Adele, I’m sure of
that; and I can see that she acts as she does because she feels
prepared. I must tell you about her; it is a mystery, yet at the same
time the most practical thing.”
All the positive elements in Mrs. Cultus now seemed focused on the
conviction that Adele was “prepared,” as she called it, for anything,
any emergency.
“She has many to look to,” said Miss Winchester, “more than most
girls.”
“Yes, but I’m not thinking of that. I mean her own strength,
something within herself, something I suppose all girls could have if
they were like Adele. I’m beginning now to understand that--beginning
to understand a little of how she acts and why she does as she does.
Adele could endure and overcome adversity; she enjoys pleasure, more
than any of us; she lives what she believes, and is not afraid of
anything. Do you notice it, Frank, Adele is never afraid?”
Miss Winchester felt a little incredulous, but she said nothing. Mrs.
Cultus continued:
“I never before so well understood Adele, although I am her mother.
At times she talks like a chatterbox, but she never says anything
unkind about people. Perhaps I shouldn’t say ‘never,’ for she did
once give a regular scolding to a rascally brute who was abusing his
horse--a dumb creature that couldn’t retaliate. Adele did speak for
the dumb brute, but that was an exceptional case, and she did right
to interfere.”
“She has my full approval,” remarked Miss Winchester. Mrs. Cultus
continued:
“Then she is interested in all babies--would you believe it?--of any
color. ‘Cherubs’ she calls them if she thinks it will stop their
crying. I heard her one day call a cherub, ‘Cupid,’ and kiss him.
Bless me, I saw nothing attractive in that particular child. She says
she likes babies just as God made them, of any color. Now, Frank, I
call that practical religion, and Adele turns from nothing; she is
interested in all humanity.”
“No doubt of it,” said Miss Winchester thoughtfully, as if recalling
an instance known to her personally.
Mrs. Cultus continued: “But when it comes to talkative religion,
Adele is more conservative, says little or nothing--only acts
naturally what she feels. And the strangest thing of all is----” and
Adele’s mother paused an instant as if she ought to be careful about
what she wished to say.
“What?” asked Miss Winchester, closely attentive.
“Why, she is always so sure, so perfectly sure in her own mind, as if
under the influence of some invisible power--something mystical, you
see, but very practical, too. I never heard her say much about it but
once--you remember when she spoke to that Geyser Science woman on the
Atlantic steamer?--and then she certainly did express herself like a
girl much older, very precocious, to my notion. Do you know what I
think, Frank?”
“No, I can’t imagine.”
“Well, Adele was talking about Christ, and she was perfectly
fearless; you remember how He talked, when only a youth, to the
Doctors in the Temple?”
It was difficult for Miss Winchester to accept this comparison; and
seeing her hesitate, Mrs. Cultus tried to express herself in better
form:
“It seems to me Adele had the same spirit, and that’s what I feel.
Now you remember that Geyser Doctor, who at first appeared so placid,
and talked about what she really knew so little; and then ended
by exploding her ideas? Frank, I shall never forget her, or the
explosion, and its effect on Adele. It was the first, last, and only
time I ever saw Adele in a religious discussion, and I never expect
to see her so caught again; in fact, she told me she would never
indulge again, not if she knew it in time.”
Miss Winchester nodded in remembrance, and was much surprised that
Mrs. Cultus should be able to display so much of her old-time
vigor, when lately she was so weak. “Her spirit is stronger than
ever,” thought Miss Winchester. Another pause, and then Mrs. Cultus
continued:
“I shall never forget that scene, because the child talked as if she
knew personally Him in whom she believed; as if the One in whom she
believed was being misquoted, if not actually slandered, and all that
sort of thing.”
Miss Winchester listened more attentively than ever.
“My dear, the child was right. I can see it all now. A sort of holy
jealousy, because she was averse to hearing anything so misleading
attributed to Him in whom she believed. Now, for a girl to feel that
way means a great deal, a very great deal--it means everything. Adele
was far more than interested; she felt intensely all she said. How
did she do it? Why did she do it? Had the Holy Spirit spoken in her
heart? Frank, that is a mystery! Nobody, I trust, can deceive me
about such things, and I can see so much more than ever now, and in a
new light. Now, I know God is Love, because He gave me Adele, and I
try to love Him for it; and just between us, you and me, myself, it
is going to be very hard for me to give her up, even to Paul.”
Miss Winchester would not have interrupted Mrs. Cultus on any account
as she was thus opening her own heart freely, fearlessly. There was a
beauty in these revelations fundamentally holy.
“One of the strange things,” continued Adele’s mother, “is how
nothing has been changed with Adele since she became engaged to Paul;
just the reverse, her feelings seem even more intense; and her love
for Paul influences her for good in every way.”
Miss Winchester, not wishing to intrude in these family matters,
made an effort to change the subject; but it was of no use. Mrs.
Cultus was too much interested in her daughter’s future to talk of
anything else; while her natural tact was too vigilant to admit of
any indiscretion.
“Adele and Paul,” said she, “with all their nonsense and lovers’
pranks, get more out of their fun than any young people I ever saw.
I’ve watched ’em often. Adele does not give up a thing worth seeing,
and she goes into unspeakable places with her Father and Paul. They
tell me not to worry about her, for she is always equal to any
emergency. I wasn’t so fearless when I was a girl. But Adele is
different. I shouldn’t be surprised if she did get into trouble some
time.”
“Of course she may--that’s where the fun comes in,” said Miss
Winchester, less serious.
Adele’s mother looked up in alarm. “What are you laughing at, Frank?
Has she already been getting into scrapes?”
“Oh, no scrape, but I saw her on her dignity in a little scene at
Benares.”
“What was it?”
“We were in one of the temples, and a young Brahmin approached
her when she was a little distance from us and alone. He was a
good-looking young fellow, and he seemed to know it. What he said I
don’t know, and what she saw wrong in him I can only conjecture, but
the few glances she gave him put him in a different frame of mind. He
certainly changed his manner and bearing as if forced to recognize
some superiority in her. One doesn’t often see that sort of thing in
young Brahmins, or their elders either. Only too often that caste
seems to arrogate to itself a special license to do as it pleases.”
“There! I told you she was never afraid!” exclaimed Mrs. Cultus.
“Adele changed that fellow’s mind by a glance--and a Brahmin at that;
overcome by the use of his own weapons. No, she is fearless. Whatever
she does, she’s never afraid. Very mysterious, yet so much common
sense to make it effective. It is as if--as if--oh, how shall I
express what I want to say in a few words? as if--the truth had made
her free.”
“Why, she must be a veritable Christian Psychologist,” said Miss
Winchester, seriously.
“There is no doubt of it,” answered Adele’s mother, confidently.
“Adele believes in the Greatest Psychologist that ever lived.”
No more was said, and Mrs. Cultus pondered over these things in her
heart. The exertion of talking had fatigued her, in spite of the
increased spiritual strength which had been born of her suffering.
While looking at some flowers which Paul had brought into her room,
their beauty seemed to lift her soul beyond them. Was it into the
region of her own youth, or of Adele’s youth?--or more beautiful
still, the realm of Perpetual Youth? Sleep came nigh.
She noticed that Paul’s flowers were buds just ready to bloom.
There was among them a lily, not a lily of the valley but of the
Annunciation; an Easter lily, double emblem of new life--new life
here, and resurrection into the New Life of Perpetual Youth. It was
the same sort of lily that she remembered seeing in a sacred picture
representing an Angel’s Visit.
As Nature’s Comforter, restful slumber, closed her eyelids in blessed
peace, she seemed to behold herself in the act of giving this lily
to Paul. Miss Winchester heard the whispering as she dozed off:
“Take it, Paul; it is a priceless treasure. This bud in blooming will
sweeten all your life. Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like
one of these.”
Certainly an unexpected conclusion to be reached by the worldly-minded
Mrs. Cultus; but practical, as truth itself is both mystical and
practical. How different the hallucinations during illness and bodily
weakness, from the spiritual experience, the visions of truth which
really conquer physical weakness and rise into the Realm of Perpetual
Youth!
“Verily, a double blessing she gave them,” said Miss
Winchester--“youth here, youth perpetual.”
XXXI
OFF TO THE HIMALAYAS
During the convalescence of Mrs. Cultus the physicians recommended
that she be taken to a more salubrious climate, a higher altitude;
and suggested Darjeeling in North Bengal near the borders of Sikhim
as an admirable sanitarium. Adele was delegated to suggest it to her
mother. She entered the sick-room in great glee, drawing Paul in with
her.
“Little Mother, we’ve all been ordered off; Paul and I have already
thought of flying upwards to the Himalayas, and now we all must go.”
“What’s that you say about flying away? Who’s ordered it? I didn’t.”
“The physicians,” said Paul much amused. “We need to take the usual
Oriental prescription for foreigners--Vamoose the ranchibus; get out!”
“Do Hindoos prescribe in Latin? What does it mean?”
“To be taken instantly,” said Miss Winchester, laughing, “and all
take the same dose.”
“Where did you say we are to go? Up where?” persisted Mrs. Cultus,
now beginning to enter into the spirit of the thing.
“To the mountains,” said Adele joyfully, “up to Sikhim.”
“Sic ’em!” and Mrs. Cultus’ eyes twinkled. “Is it a hunting scheme
for Paul and the Doctor? Are there dogs up there?”
Evidently mental alertness had returned to the invalid. Adele thought
so, and nodded to Paul:
“Come, boys! get your guns, and call the dogs--I mean your tickets
for the trip; I’ll attend to the rest.”
Paul vanished to make arrangements for the journey.
* * * * *
Never did a more interested and hilarious party start northward
towards Kunchingunga; towards the foot-hills of Sikhim, between
Nepaul and Bhootan. From the crest of these foot-hills they hoped
to see the Himalaya range stretching east and west, like unto a
barrier insurmountable, towering aloft into thin air which no man
could breathe and yet live; terra firma supporting glaciers a mile in
vertical height; _terra incognita_, for no man had yet been able to
tread thereon. Region of the seen, yet unseen, because unlivable to
mortals as at present constituted.
No other portion of their tour gave better opportunity to bring out
individual traits of character than this; for nature herself was to
be met in many moods. Professor Cultus suggested that each member of
the party should select a specialty for personal observation.
Miss Winchester jumped at this idea, like a reporter for a woman’s
home journal. She selected the varied ejaculations of the natives;
“grunts,” as she called them.
“Every race seems to grunt differently, and every idol swears
differently. I suppose prayers are diverse also, but the grunts will
be enough for me. We shall have hot-weather sighs, and cold-weather
shivers; torrid zone lassitude and temperate zone platitude; Hindoo
shuffles and Mongolian shrugs, each accompanied by its appropriate
ejaculation or grunt. It is astonishing how much grunting is heard.
Asia is like a Florida razor-back settlement on a large scale.
I shall be kept quite busy; and no doubt myself become quite
accomplished.” Miss Winchester was evidently in high feather, finding
her surroundings inspiring from a literary point of view.
“The Himalayas will suit your purpose admirably,” remarked the Doctor.
“How so?”
“You may write a dialect story on your way--all grunts, and nothing
else.”
Paul thought the subject of the rapid changes from one kind of
vegetation to another would suit him as a specialty. “There ought
to be enough variety in ferns, palms, and natural shrubbery, to say
nothing of tea, quinine and poppies (opium) to excite or soothe as
we require doses.” Paul was evidently hoping to obtain some plants
for his Florida Garden, his winter home, between Pelican Lodge and
the salt waves. There the Pelicans were omnivorous birds, not being
restricted to ordinary pelican diet.
Adele said she expected to be engaged chiefly in “looking up.”
“Not guide-books, I hope?” quizzed Miss Winchester.
“Only when I lie down, to take a siesta; they will serve as a
sedative.”
“Whatever you do,” said Mrs. Cultus, ever practical and worldly-wise,
“be sure to jot down notes. You remember my report on Tangiers to our
Politely Civil League? Memoranda came in splendidly then; I’ve just
received a note of thanks for my ‘communications.’”
“You mean your ‘proceedings,’ my dear,” grunted the Professor.
Miss Winchester at once made mental note of the Professor’s
mode of ejaculation, as indicative of the Occidental grunt in
contradistinction to the Asiatic.
“Miss Cultus is correct,” interrupted the Doctor, champion inquisitor
and note-jotter of the party. “No brain could remember, much less
assimilate, all that we are going to see, without taking notes.”
At this point they were interrupted by the call to take their places
in the railway carriage at Calcutta, for their first four hours by
rail to Damookdea on the Ganges.
XXXII
THE START UPWARDS
En route from Calcutta, many villages were situated amid luxuriant
bamboos, palms and grasses, where the Bengali cultivators of the soil
worked hard for a portion of the year, and then during the heated
term put in their time loafing, bathing in puddles, and raising
children; some of the children looked as if so raised--in puddles.
Life was known to ebb and flow spasmodically in that region, at times
receding to the very verge of famine, only to return and overflow the
country with abundance. Life was like a candle burning at both ends
in days of plenty, to be followed by total darkness, where skeletons
groped, wailing and gnashing their teeth.