A NEW DEVELOPMENT
True to her promise, Mrs. Wylie called the following afternoon at the
small room she had learned to designate as Number Nineteen, and invited
Mrs. Lucien to accompany herself and Mr. Wylie to the Lyceum.
Mrs. Lucien’s pale face flushed slightly, and an eager, pleased look
came for a moment into her eyes, then she shook her head.
“You are very kind, Mrs. Wylie, but you forget—that I never go out.”
“I know you _should_ go. You are growing as pale as a calla, shut up
here so closely. You owe it to yourself and little Dolores here, to go
whenever you can. Besides, I have quite set my heart upon having you
with us, and I am supposed to always have my own way,” she added
playfully. “I want some one along who can enjoy a good lecture, if I
cannot, and Mr. Wylie thinks Dr. Lyman a very fine speaker. I am sure
you will reconsider your answer and go with us.”
“But, your husband—I am afraid—”
“Will be delighted. In fact, he first proposed your going,” said the
other, feeling that Mrs. Lucien was yielding. “You shall bring little
Dolores to our rooms and Tibby will look after her with Robert. She’ll
be sure to enjoy it, for Tibby is a rare entertainer. Robert is quite
happy with her.”
“Dolly never makes any one any trouble,” replied Mrs. Lucien, smiling
fondly upon her child. “It is true I have taken considerable interest in
Dr. Lyman’s lectures as reported in the papers, and in his subject. I
have myself witnessed phenomena in the so-called spirit manifestations
which I could not account for by any knowledge of my own, scientific or
otherwise. If it is not spirits, then what is it?”
Mrs. Wylie shook her head.
“I confess I am very incredulous,” she said, smiling. “I think sometimes
with old Mr. Hucklebone, that it is the work of the Evil One, and feel
like avoiding it; but my husband is interested in the subject, and I go
to these lectures to please him. I cannot say that I enjoy them,
however.”
“Can you not believe the soul is immortal? And if so, why may not one
come back to this earth and linger near those one has loved? Shall
spirits be limited by time and space? These are finite things. Does not
the spirit belong to the infinite?” Mrs. Lucien’s voice was low, sweet,
and persuasive.
“I do not deny that it may be so, because I see nothing to entirely
disprove such a possibility; but I cannot see what good it can do us or
any one else to seek intercourse with those who have passed to the other
world. There has been a boundary line and a veil of death placed between
Time and Eternity, mortals and immortals, and it better remain. What I
cannot countenance is that people give up their religion to take up
spiritism. Why the testimony of the spirit of mortal man (admitting that
it may testify) should weigh more than the great Spirit of the Universe,
in whom even the wild Indian believes and whom we designate our Creator,
is to me a strange thing. It is making a religion of spiritism that I
object to.”
Mrs. Wylie spoke with unusual seriousness and her friend did not
immediately respond.
“I do not think _I_ believe in making a religion of it either,” she said
after a moment of silence; “but there is so much one does not
understand, and if by actual converse with those who have gone before
and tested the mysteries of the unknown we may learn without doubt of
the life in store for us, it is a satisfaction, to say the least.”
“But _can_ we know without doubt? Do we know with what we are
conversing? I confess I have seen so much charlatanry I cannot be sure
of anything.”
“Have you not had experiences in your life, dear Mrs. Wylie, which have
demonstrated to you a psychic power beyond explanation, save by this
theory of spirit force?”
“Possibly; though I only think of one instance now which might be of
this class,” said Mrs. Wylie reflectively.
“And may I ask if you will tell me that?” questioned Mrs. Lucien
eagerly.
“It happened several years ago. I took a sudden determination to visit
my parents, and started immediately, without notifying them of my
coming. Arriving at the station I found my father waiting for me, he
having been impressed with the fact of my coming, in some unaccountable
way; my thought of the early day having been communicated to him by a
sort of mental telegraphy, I imagine.”
“Ah, yes, there are so many instances of that kind. I have had many
myself. I wonder, sometimes, if I am naturally superstitious. There have
been many peculiar examples of second sight or clairvoyance in our
family. It has been traditional for generations, and proven by
accumulated evidence, that no great calamity can befall any member of us
without forewarning, not alone to the victim, but to the others of the
household. The warning always comes in the same way.”
“And that is—?” Mrs. Wylie questioned.
“By a footstep at the door,” continued Mrs. Lucien. “Before any death or
evil to any one of the house we are startled by hearing a footstep come
to the door, step heavily once or twice and then vanish from sound and
sight. If the door is opened no one is visible to mortal eyes. Sometimes
it comes more than once the same evening, and we know the evil is near
at hand.” Mrs. Lucien spoke in a low, soft voice, of indescribable
sadness, as she continued: “It has come to me several times, once before
a trouble worse than death. Ah, and the footsteps were heavy and loud. I
can hear and feel them yet, treading on my very heart. Then they came
again before my darlings died, and I knew there was no hope, no hope
that God would hear my prayer and spare them to me, though they were all
I had. Truly, I can say there is no justice in the heavens. But forgive
me, dear friend, I did not mean to so far forget myself,” she added,
turning her white face toward the little woman, whose eyes were filled
with tears of sympathy.
“And you have had other children, and lost them? How sorry I am for
you,” cried Mrs. Wylie impulsively.
“Yes, three; but I do not think of them as lost, only gone before. They
come to me at night and I feel the touch of the tiny hands upon my
forehead—only Freddie, he never comes to me. But I see you are
surprised. As I said before, I have seen much of spiritism, enough to
make me credulous. It is a blessed thought to me that my darlings may be
near me, and that possibly when I am myself more spiritual I may reach
out my hands and grasp their little ones and enjoy more fully their
loved presence. I am glad I may go to hear Dr. Lyman. He may make plain
to me those things I desire to know, may teach me how to make such
things possible.”
Mrs. Wylie knew not how to respond to her. There was so much about this
theory to which she was opposed. She was disappointed in her friend, and
yet she could not condemn her. She took her leave shortly, wishing Dr.
Lyman at the antipodes.