THE GHOSTS OF THE CABINET
“My dear, I have come to invite you to a real materialistic seance,”
said Mrs. Wylie, a few weeks later, as she called at the door of Mrs.
Lucien’s improved lodgings.
Mrs. Lucien’s eye brightened, and she clasped her hands with childish
naivete.
“Really?”
“Yes, really! Mr. Wylie has an especial invitation and tickets given
him, so we shall not feel that we are intruding. He bade me come at once
and tell you, as he knew how much you desired to witness such an
exhibition.”
“How kind you are, dear Mrs. Wylie. I cannot express how grateful I am
to you for such an opportunity,” said Mrs. Lucien warmly.
“It is arranged, then; we will call for you at half-past seven this
evening.” And Mrs. Wylie tripped away, feeling that she had at least
given pleasure by the invitation, little as she herself desired to
attend the seance. The lectures of Dr. Lyman, which she had attended to
please her husband, had rather prejudiced her against than converted to
his teaching, and she could not appreciate the interest which her
friends seemed to take in them. As for this seance, she would go that
Mrs. Lucien might have the desired privilege of attending, but her
conscience disapproved of it.
At the appointed time the trio took a carriage to Scoville Street as
directed, and stopped before a small story-and-a-half house, with an “L”
upon one side, and a broken paling in front.
“I am bound to investigate everything thoroughly,” said Mrs. Wylie, in a
whisper, as they went toward the house.
“Certainly, that is your privilege, my dear. I am sure the spirits will
have no objections,” said Mr. Wylie.
They were met at the door by a grave-looking man, who asked for their
credentials, and when Mr. Wylie had presented his card of invitation
they were ushered into a small square room furnished only by a centre
table holding a lamp, a little old-fashioned carpet lounge standing in
one corner, upon which two or three persons were seated conversing in
subdued tones, and a tall base-burner stove offering warmth to a small
group of people gathered about it.
No one spoke to the members of our party, who, while warming themselves
by the fire, gazed into an empty room adjoining. This room had only the
light of a single lamp fastened near the ceiling in one corner and
covered and shaded by a Japanese umbrella. A string depended from this
lamp to the cabinet in the opposite corner of the room. An antique,
black hair-cloth tete was near the cabinet, and a carved mahogany stand
stood between the only two windows in the room. The remaining space of
the apartment was taken up by chairs for the invited spectators.
All these separate details Mrs. Wylie observed and noted. Then she
turned to the man who admitted them.
“Am I permitted to examine this room?” she asked smilingly.
“Certainly, madam, we court the most careful investigation in this
matter. Examine thoroughly everything in this room,” and in a solemn
manner he conducted them forward to the cabinet and lifted the curtains
of plain black cloth which hung before it. Rolling these, he threw them
over the top of the pole, that she might enter the cabinet and explore
the interior.
Mrs. Wylie felt of the wall, which was covered with a faded paper;
tapped it to see if there were closets in the partition, pressed it to
learn if it was movable, examined for cracks or evidence of secret
panels, but could discover nothing. She even examined the carpet and saw
that the tacks holding it to the floor were rusted as if not recently
lifted or changed. She looked under and behind the tete, but could
discover no possible place of concealment in the room.
“Are you satisfied, my curious Pandora?” said Mr. Wylie, who had been
watching her with a faint, indulgent smile upon his lips.
“Yes, I find only plain, bare walls, and no visible outlet, save by the
one door through which we entered.”
“Good! Perhaps your scepticism will vanish after to-night.”
Mrs. Wylie shook her head and peered again at the ceiling and dependent
lamp. She was prepared for trickery, even if she could not fathom it.
“Still unconvinced? Oh, most doubting of Thomases!” said Mr. Wylie, with
a gesture of despair.
“Only cautious and conservative,” whispered Mrs. Lucien.
“Conservatism, what crimes of doubt and unbelief are committed in thy
name!” responded the other.
By this time people were beginning to file into the room, until the
chairs were filled.
Our friends sat down near the door, where the hard-coal fire cast a dim
light into the room, and directly opposite the cabinet. No other light
was left in the room after the entrance of the medium.
This person, who was tall and large-framed, and who weighed apparently
about two hundred and fifty pounds, walked over to the tete and sat
down.
“I will sit here for a time, and perhaps we may have a manifestation
before I am under control,” she said. “Will anybody please sing.”
The spectators began to sing religious hymns, and almost immediately, to
Mrs. Wylie’s astonishment, the curtains parted by invisible power and a
little figure of light, with indistinguishable features, stepped forth.
“Good-evening, everybody. How do you do?” came from it in a thin, piping
voice.
Some of those present, who had evidently seen the apparition before,
addressed it as Starlight, and the vision vanished.
The medium then arose and stepped into the cabinet. No sooner had she
done so than three or four men’s voices were heard speaking together.
One, a Jack Tar, with nautical phrases; another, the guttural voice of
the American Indian, a third that of an educated citizen.
Some in the audience seemed to recognize and greet the voices.
After a period of quiet and another hymn the curtains again parted and a
slender woman appeared. No one approached her as she stood before them
and delivered a short oration, the theme of which was “Universal
Progress,” the diction and thought in no wise remarkable.
She withdrew to give place to another figure, which called a name in a
soft, plaintive voice.
“Oh, it is my wife!” cried a man in the audience, and he went forward,
and grasping the materialized spirit by the arm, he led her forward
about the room, while she shook hands with other friends who seemed to
recognize her.
Mrs. Wylie shook in an agony of apprehension.
“Don’t, don’t let her come near me!” she gasped, while her heart beat to
suffocation. She looked at the white, eager face of Mrs. Lucien, and the
not less interested face of her husband. She clutched him by the arm,
while she grew hot and cold by turns. But the figure turned away before
reaching her, and stepped back into the cabinet. Then several others
came out and were recognized, kissed, and spoken to by friends.
At length came the figure of a man, who spoke in a faint voice.
The usher came to the lady sitting next to Mrs. Wylie upon the left.
“It is for you,” he said.
The lady arose, went across the room to the cabinet, clasped the figure
in her arms, calling him her dear brother, and when he disappeared came
back to her seat, sobbing and crying bitterly.
Mrs. Wylie wrung her hands in the pause of darkness and silence which
followed.
“Oh! Mrs. Lucien, Mrs. Lucien, the next will be for you,” she whispered.
As if to confirm her words a figure of light advanced, so clear, so
luminous, so fair that a suppressed murmur arose from the spectators. It
seemed to float through the air and hover suspended before the cabinet.
Mrs. Lucien had arisen and moved forward with outstretched arms.
“Mamma, mamma!” a bird-like voice repeated, and fluttering like a bird
in the air the tiny hands brushed the white face of the entranced woman.
Then by its side a second figure appeared, larger but less distinct. For
a moment they hovered flutteringly before her, then disappeared, and the
usher led the now nearly fainting Mrs. Lucien to her seat.
Another figure appeared, a man. A woman behind Mrs. Wylie arose and went
forward.
“O Jim!” she cried.
“I have been so sorry,” a feeble, moaning voice replied, “that I did not
do more for you when in the flesh. I had no opportunity, before I passed
over, to tell you what was in my heart. I realize now that I blighted
your life by selfishly yielding to my appetite. I would undo it all if I
could, but it is too late.” With a groan he disappeared.
Then a little boy ran out from the cabinet and cried:
“I want my mash!”
“Oh, that is little Eddie!” exclaimed a girl from the audience, and she
ran forward to clasp the little figure in her arms.
At last came a figure of beauty and light, with extended, fluttering
hands and eager face. “This is for you,” said the usher, coming toward
Mrs. Wylie, who felt bound to her chair and unable to move.
As the man approached her she felt as though her heart ceased to beat,
but she passively suffered him to lead her to the cabinet.
“Sister, sister,” whispered the little sprite, and its tiny hands sought
to take hers. She felt the soft, cool touch of its hand upon her own,
then drew back with uncontrollable fear.
“She wants to kiss you,” said the man, but Mrs. Wylie was too terrified
to permit it. Then the figure, so transparent and ethereal, vanished in
the cabinet and again all was darkness.
When Mrs. Wylie was again seated there was a sound as of rushing wind,
and two little Indian girls came running out of the cabinet. One ran
back. The other called her out again.
“This is little Moonlight. Come on!” said number one.
“Good-evening, everybody!” said number two timidly.
Number one laughed and danced about, while number two ran back into the
cabinet.
“Dance for us, Starlight,” said a gentleman who seemed to recognize her
as a well-known favorite.
“Mne! No music,” she said.
The gentleman began to whistle.
“No, no good,” cried Starlight.
Mrs. Wylie could never after account for the influence which prompted
her to lean forward and clap her hands to the time of a waltz, while she
hummed a gay air.
“Mne! That’s good!” cried Starlight, and her little feet kept time with
the grace of a ballet-dancer.
“Good-night, good-night, good-night!” she cried, and danced back behind
the curtains of the cabinet, and all was still.
The audience arose and began to go out of the room, and Mrs. Wylie, with
a dazed, unnatural sensation, turned to her friend. “Am I asleep or
dreaming?” she asked.
“I feel like asking the same question,” said Mrs. Lucien. “What a
wonderful experience this has been.”
When they were seated in the carriage, and proceeding homeward, Mr.
Wylie turned to his wife.
“Well, Nellie,” he said, “what do you think of it?”
“I think,” responded Mrs. Wylie slowly, “that I was hypnotized.”
“Hypnotized!” exclaimed Mr. Wylie and Mrs. Lucien in unison.
“Yes, hypnotized. I began to grow cold and feel so strangely as soon as
that medium sat down there. I think she sat outside long enough to
mesmerize us all. You remember she had them sing to distract our
thoughts.”
“I must say, Elinor, when you try to be idiotic you succeed a little
better than any one I ever knew before you.” Mr. Wylie looked his
annoyance.
“But, Horace, if I was not under some influence, why did I sing and clap
my hands for that spirit to dance? Do you think I would have done such
an absurd and unheard of thing of my own volition?”
“There’s no telling what you might or might not do, Elinor. I confess
you surprise even me very frequently.”
Mrs. Wylie sighed. It seemed difficult to combat the now apparently
fixed belief of her husband in spirit manifestation.
“Did you hear the music that seemed to be playing in the air above our
heads from the moment the medium entered the room?” inquired Mrs.
Lucien.
“No, I did not notice it; did you, Horace?”
Mr. Wylie shook his head.
“How strange! I heard the sound of many instruments blending in a
wonderful harmony,” murmured Mrs. Lucien.
“A further proof that we were hypnotized,” replied Mrs. Wylie. “You,
Mrs. Lucien, were the most susceptible and first brought under control?”
Mr. Wylie looked disgusted.
“A proof, Elinor, that you were too frightened to know what was
transpiring about you. I am not surprised that Mrs. Lucien should
perceive harmonies beyond the hearing of our ears, or of less
sensitively organized ones. We were curious, antagonistic, unbelieving.
We were determined not to hear and therefore were deaf to the melodies
which entranced her.”
“Entranced?”
“Yes, I think we were all entranced, and made to see or hear anything,”
replied Mrs. Wylie.