EXPERIENCES
“Let us sit round the table and talk,” said Madame Riennes.
Thereon the whole party moved into the recess where was the flower-pot
that has been mentioned, which Miss Ogilvy took away.
They seated themselves round the little table upon which it had stood.
Godfrey, lingering behind, found, whether by design or accident, that
the only place left for him was the arm-chair which he hesitated to
occupy.
“Be seated, young Monsieur,” said the formidable Madame in
bell-like tones, whereon he collapsed into the chair. “Sister
Helen,” she went on, “draw the curtain, it is more private so; yes,
and the blind that there may be no unholy glare.”
Miss Ogilvy, who seemed to be entirely under Madame’s thumb, obeyed.
Now to all intents and purposes they were in a tiny, shadowed room cut
off from the main apartment.
“Take that talisman from your neck and give it to young Monsieur
Knight,” commanded Madame.
“But I gave it to her, and do not want it back,” ventured Godfrey,
who was growing alarmed.
“Do what I say,” she said sternly, and he found himself holding the
relic.
“Now, young Monsieur, look me in the eyes a little and listen. I
request of you that holding that black, engraved stone in your hand,
you will be so good as to throw your soul, do you understand, your
soul, back, back, _back_ and tell us where it come from, who have it,
what part it play in their life, and everything about it.”
“How am I to know?” asked Godfrey, with indignation.
Then suddenly everything before him faded, and he saw himself standing
in a desert by a lump of black rock, at which a brown man clad only in
a waist cloth and a kind of peaked straw hat, was striking with an
instrument that seemed to be half chisel and half hammer, fashioned
apparently from bronze, or perhaps of greenish-coloured flint.
Presently the brown man, who had a squint in one eye and a hurt toe
that was bound round with something, picked up a piece of the black
rock that he had knocked off, and surveyed it with evident satisfaction.
Then the scene vanished.
Godfrey told it with interest to the audience who were apparently also
interested.
“The finding of the stone,” said Madame. “Continue, young
Monsieur.”
Another vision rose before Godfrey’s mind. He beheld a low room having
a kind of verandah, roofed with reeds, and beyond it a little courtyard
enclosed by a wall of grey-coloured mud bricks, out of some of which
stuck pieces of straw. This courtyard opened onto a narrow street where
many oddly-clothed people walked up and down, some of whom wore peaked
caps. A little man, old and grey, sat with the fragment of black rock
on a low table before him, which Godfrey knew to be the same stone that
he had already seen. By him lay graving tools, and he was engaged in
polishing the stone, now covered with figures and writing, by help of a
stick, a piece of rough cloth and oil. A young man with a curly beard
walked into the little courtyard, and to him the old fellow delivered
the engraved stone with obeisances, receiving payment in some curious
currency.
Then followed picture upon picture in all of which the talisman appeared
in the hands of sundry of its owners. Some of these pictures had to do
with love, some with religious ceremonies, and some with war. One, too,
with its sale, perhaps in a time of siege or scarcity, for a small loaf
of black-looking bread, by an aged woman who wept at parting with it.
After this he saw an Arab-looking man finding the stone amongst the
crumbling remains of a brick wall that showed signs of having been
burnt, which wall he was knocking down with a pick-axe to allow water
to flow down an irrigation channel on his garden. Presently a person
who wore a turban and was girt about with a large scimitar, rode by,
and to him the man showed, and finally presented the stone, which the
Saracen placed in the folds of his turban.
The next scene was of this man engaged in battle with a knight clad in
mail. The battle was a very fine one, which Godfrey described with much
gusto. It ended in the knight killing the Eastern man and hacking off
his head with a sword. This violent proceeding disarranged the turban
out of which fell the black stone. The knight picked it up and hid it
about him. Next Godfrey saw this same knight, grown into an old man and
being borne on a bier to burial, clad in the same armour that he had
worn in the battle. Upon his breast hung the black stone which had now
a hole bored through the top of it.
Lastly there came a picture of the old sexton finding the talisman among
the bones of the knight, and giving it to himself, Godfrey, then a
small boy, after which everything passed away.
“I guess that either our young friend here has got the vision, or that
he will make a first-class novelist,” said Colonel Josiah Smith.
“Any way, if you care to part with that talisman, Miss Ogilvy, I will
be glad to give you five hundred dollars for it on the chance of his
integrity.”
She smiled and shook her head, stretching out her hand to recover the
Gnostic charm.
“Be silent, Brother Josiah Smith,” exclaimed Madame Riennes,
angrily. “If this were imposture, should I not have discovered it? It
is good vision—psychometry is the right term—though of a humbler
order such as might be expected from a beginner. Still, there is hope,
there is hope. Let us see, now. Young gentleman, be so good as to look
me in the eye.”
Much against his will Godfrey found himself bound to obey, and looked
her “in the eye.” A few moments later he felt dizzy, and after that
he remembered no more.
When Godfrey awoke again the curtain was drawn, the blinds were pulled
up and the butler was bringing in tea. Miss Ogilvy sat by his side,
looking at him rather anxiously, while the others were conversing
together in a somewhat excited fashion.
“It is splendid, splendid!” Madame was saying. “We have
discovered a pearl beyond price, a great treasure. Hush! he awakes.”
Godfrey, who experienced a curious feeling of exhaustion and of
emptiness of brain, yawned and apologized for having fallen asleep,
whereon the professor and the colonel both assured him that it was
quite natural on so warm a day. Only Madame Riennes smiled like a
sphinx, and asked him if his dreams were pleasant. To this he replied
that he remembered none.
Miss Ogilvy, however, who looked rather anxious and guilty, did not
speak at all, but busied herself with the tea which Godfrey thought
very strong when he drank it. However, it refreshed him wonderfully,
which, as it contained some invigorating essence, was not strange. So
did the walk in the beautiful garden which he took afterwards, just
before the carriage came to drive him back to Kleindorf.
Re-entering the drawing-room to say goodbye, he found the party engaged
listening to the contents of a number of sheets of paper closely written
in pencil, which were being read to them by Colonel Josiah Smith, who
made corrections from time to time.
“_Au revoir_, my young brother,” said Madame Riennes, making
some mysterious sign before she took his hand in her fat, cold fingers,
“you will come again next Sunday, will you not?”
“I don’t know,” he answered awkwardly, for he felt afraid of
this lady, and did not wish to see her next Sunday.
“Oh! but I do, young brother. You will come, because it gives me so
much pleasure to see you,” she replied, staring at him with her
strange eyes.
Then Godfrey knew that he would come because he must.
“Why does that lady call me ‘young brother’?” he asked
Miss Ogilvy, who accompanied him to the hall.
“Oh! because it is a way she has. You may have noticed that she called
me ‘sister’.”
“I don’t think that I shall call _her_ sister,” he
remarked with decision. “She is too alarming.”
“Not really when you come to know her, for she has the kindest heart
and is wonderfully gifted.”
“Gifts which make people tell others that they are going to die are
not pleasant, Miss Ogilvy.”
She shivered a little.
“If her spirit—I mean the truth—comes to her, she must speak
it, I suppose. By the way, Godfrey, don’t say anything about this
talisman and the story you told of it, at Kleindorf, or in writing
home.”
“Why not?”
“Oh! because people like your dear old Pasteur, and clergymen
generally, are so apt to misunderstand. They think that there is only
one way of learning things beyond, and that every other must be wrong.
Also I am sure that your friend, Isobel Blake, would laugh at you.”
“I don’t write to Isobel,” he exclaimed setting his lips.
“But you may later,” she said smiling. “At any rate you will
promise, won’t you?”
“Yes, if you wish it, Miss Ogilvy, though I can’t see what it
matters. That kind of nonsense often comes into my head when I touch old
things. Isobel says that it is because I have too much imagination.”
“Imagination! Ah! what is imagination? Well, goodbye, Godfrey, the
carriage will come for you at the same time next Sunday. Perhaps, too, I
shall see you before then, as I am going to call upon Madame Boiset.”
Then he went, feeling rather uncomfortable, and yet interested, though
what it was that interested him he did not quite know. That night he
dreamed that Madame Riennes stood by his bed watching him with her
burning eyes. It was an unpleasant dream.
He kept his word. When the Boiset family, especially Madame,
cross-examined him as to the details of his visit to Miss Ogilvy, he
merely described the splendours of that opulent establishment and the
intellectual character of its guests. Of their mystic attributes he
said nothing at all, only adding that Miss Ogilvy proposed to do
herself the honour of calling at the Maison Blanche, as the Boisets’
house was called.
About the middle of the week Miss Ogilvy arrived and, as Madame had
taken care to be at home in expectation of her visit, was entertained
to tea. Afterwards she visited the observatory, which interested her
much, and had a long talk with the curious old Pasteur, who also
interested her in his way, for as she afterwards remarked to Godfrey,
one does not often meet an embodiment of human goodness and charity.
When he replied that the latter quality was lacking to the Pasteur
where Roman Catholics were concerned, she only smiled and said that
every jewel had its flaw; nothing was quite perfect in the world.
In the end she asked Madame and Juliette to come to lunch with her,
leaving out Godfrey, because, as she said, she knew that he would be
engaged at his studies with the Pasteur. She explained also that she
did not ask them to come with him on Sunday because they would be taken
up with their religious duties, a remark at which Juliette made what
the French call a “mouth,” and Madame smiled faintly.
In due course she and her daughter went to lunch and returned delighted,
having found themselves fellow-guests of some of the most notable
people in Lucerne, though not those whom Miss Ogilvy entertained on
Sundays. Needless to say from that time forward Godfrey’s intimacy
with this charming and wealthy hostess was in every way encouraged by
the Boiset family.
The course of this intimacy does not need any very long description.
Every Sunday after church the well-appointed carriage and pair appeared
and bore Godfrey away to luncheon at the Villa Ogilvy. Here he always
met Madame Riennes, Colonel Josiah Smith, and Professor Petersen; also
occasionally one or two others with whom these seemed to be
sufficiently intimate to admit of their addressing them as
“Brother” or “Sister.”
Soon Godfrey came to understand that they were all members of some kind
of semi-secret society, though what this might be he could not quite
ascertain. All he made sure of was that it had to do with matters which
were not of this world. Nothing concerning mundane affairs, however
important or interesting, seemed to appeal to them; all their
conversation was directed towards what might be called spiritual
problems, reincarnations, Karmas (it took him a long time to understand
what a Karma is), astral shapes, mediumship, telepathic influences,
celestial guides, and the rest.
At first this talk with its jargon of words which he did not comprehend,
bored him considerably, but by degrees he felt that he was being drawn
into a vortex, and began to understand its drift. Even while it was
enigmatic it acquired a kind of unholy attraction for him, and he began
to seek out its secret meaning in which he found that company ready
instructors.
“Young brother,” said Madame Riennes, “we deal with the
things not of the body, but of the soul. The body, what is it? In a few
years it will be dust and ashes, but the soul—it is eternal—and all
those stars you study are its inheritance, and you and I, if we
cultivate our spiritual parts, shall rule in them.”
Then she would roll her big eyes and become in a way magnificent, so
that Godfrey forgot her ugliness and the repulsion with which she
inspired him.
In the end his outlook on life and the world became different, and this
not so much because of what he learned from his esoteric teachers, as
through some change in his internal self. He grew to appreciate the
vastness of things and the infinite possibilities of existence. Indeed,
his spiritual education was a fitting pendant to his physical study of
the heavens, peopled with unnumbered worlds, each of them the home,
doubtless, of an infinite variety of life, and each of them keeping its
awful secrets locked in its floating orb. He trembled in presence of
the stupendous Whole, of which thus by degrees he became aware, and
though it frightened him, thought with pity of the busy millions of
mankind to whom such mysteries are nothing at all; who are lost in
their business or idleness, in their eating, drinking, sleeping,
love-making, and general satisfaction of the instincts which they
possess in common with every other animal. The yearning for wisdom, the
desire to know, entered his young heart and possessed it, as once these
did that of Solomon, to such a degree indeed, that standing on the
threshold of his days, he would have paid them all away, and with them
his share in this warm and breathing world, could he have been assured
that in exchange he would receive the key of the treasure-house of the
Infinite.
Such an attitude was neither healthy nor natural to a normal, vigorous
lad just entering upon manhood, and, as will be seen, it did not
endure. Like everything else, it had its causes. His astronomical
studies were one of these, but a deeper reason was to be found in those
Sunday séances at the Villa Ogilvy. For a long while Godfrey did not
know what happened to him on these occasions. The party sat round the
little table, talking of wonderful things; Madame Riennes looked at him
and sometimes took his hand, which he did not like, and then he
remembered no more until he woke up, feeling tired, and yet in a way
exhilarated, for with the mysteries of hypnotic sleep he was not yet
acquainted. Nor did it occur to him that he was being used as a medium
by certain of the most advanced spiritualists in the world.
By degrees, however, inklings of the truth began to come. Thus, one day
his consciousness awoke while his body seemed still to be wrapt in
trance, and he saw that there was a person present who had not been of
the party when he went to sleep. A young woman, clad in a white robe,
with lovely hair flowing down her back, stood by his side and held his
supine fingers in her hand.
She was beautiful, and yet unearthly, she wore ornaments also, but as he
watched, to his amazement these seemed to change. What had been a fillet
of white stones, like diamonds, which bound her hair, turned to one of
red stones, like rubies, and as it did so the colour of her eyes, which
were large and very tranquil, altered.
She was speaking in a low, rich voice to Miss Ogilvy, who answered,
addressing her as Sister Eleanor, but what she said Godfrey could not
understand. Something of his inner shock and fear must have reflected
itself upon his trance-bound features, for suddenly he heard Madame
Riennes exclaim:
“Have done! the medium awakes, and I tell you it is dangerous while
our Guide is here. Back to his breast, Eleanor! Thence to your
place!”
The tall figure changed; it became misty, shapeless. It seemed to fall
on him like a cloud of icy vapour, chilling him to the heart, and
through that vapour he could see the ormolu clock which stood on a
bracket in the recess, and even note the time, which was thirteen
minutes past four. After this he became unconscious, and in due course
woke up as usual. The first thing his eyes fell on was the clock, of
which the hands now pointed to a quarter to five, and the sight of it
brought everything back to him. Then he observed that all the circle
seemed much agitated, and distinctly heard Madame Riennes say to
Professor Petersen in English:—
“The thing was very near. Had it not been for that medicine of
yours——! It was because that speerit do take his hand. She grow
fond of him; it happen sometimes if the medium be of the other sex and
attractive. She want to carry him away with her, that Control, and I
expect she never quite leave him all his life, because, you see, she
materialize out of him, and therefore belong to him. Next time she
come, I give her my mind. Hush! Our wonderful little brother wake
up—quite right this time.”
Then Godfrey really opened his eyes; hitherto he had been feigning to be
still in trance, but thought it wisest to say nothing. At this moment
Miss Ogilvy turned very pale and went into a kind of light faint.
The Professor produced some kind of smelling-bottle from his pocket,
which he held to her nostrils. She came to at once, and began to laugh
at her own silliness, but begged them all to go away and leave her
quiet, which they did. Godfrey was going too, but she stopped him,
saying that the carriage would not be ready till after tea, and that it
was too wet for him to walk in the garden, for now autumn had come in
earnest. The tea arrived, a substantial tea, with poached eggs, of
which she made him eat two, as she did always after these sittings.
Then suddenly she asked him if he had seen anything. He told her all,
adding:
“I am frightened. I do not like this business, Miss Ogilvy. Who and
what was that lady in white, who stood by me and held my hand? My
fingers are still tingling, and a cold wind seems to blow upon me.”
“It was a spirit, Godfrey, but there is no need to be afraid, she will
not do you any harm.”
“I don’t know, and I don’t think that you have any right to
bring spirits to me, or out of me, as I heard that dreadful Madame say
had happened. It is a great liberty.”
“Oh! don’t be angry with me,” she said piteously. “If
only you understood. You are a wonderful medium, the most wonderful that
any of us has ever known, and through you we have learned things; holy,
marvellous things, which till now have not been heard of in the world.
Your fame is already great among leading spiritualists of the earth,
though of course they do not know who you are.”
“That does not better matters,” said Godfrey, “you know it is
not right.”
“Perhaps not, but my dear boy, if only you guessed all it means to me!
Listen; I will tell you; you will not betray me, will you? Once I was
very fond of someone; he was all my life, and he died, and my heart
broke. I only hope and pray that such a thing may never happen to you.
Well, from that hour to this I have been trying to find him and failed,
always failed, though once or twice I thought——. And now through
you I have found him. Yes, he has spoken to me telling me much which
proves to me that he still lives elsewhere and awaits me. And oh! I am
happy, and do not care how soon I go to join him. And it is all through
you. So you will forgive me, will you not?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” said Godfrey, “but all the same I
don’t want to have anything more to do with that white lady who is
called Eleanor and changes her jewels so often; especially as Madame
said she was growing fond of me and would never leave me. So please
don’t ask me here again on Sundays.”
Miss Ogilvy tried to soothe him.
“You shouldn’t be frightened of her,” she said. “She is
really a delightful spirit, and declares that she knew you very
intimately indeed, when you were an early Egyptian, also much before
that on the lost continent, which is called Atlantis, to say nothing of
deep friendships which have existed between you in other planets.”
“I say!” exclaimed Godfrey, “do you believe all this?”
“Well, if you ask me, I must say that I do. I am sure that we have all
of us lived many lives, here and elsewhere, and if this is so, it is
obvious that in the course of them we must have met an enormous number
of people, with certain of whom we have been closely associated in the
various relationships of life. Some of these, no doubt, come round with
us again, but others do not, though we can get into touch with them
under exceptional circumstances. That is your case and Eleanor’s. At
present you are upon different spheres, but in the future, no doubt,
you will find yourselves side by side again, as you have often been, in
due course to be driven apart once more by the winds of Destiny, and
perhaps, after ages, finally to be united. Meanwhile she plays the part
of one of your guardian angels.”
“Then I wish she wouldn’t,” said Godfrey, with vigour.
“I don’t care for a guardian angel of whom I have no memory, and
who seems to fall on you like snow upon a hot day. If anybody does that
kind of thing I should prefer a living woman.”
“Which doubtless she has been, and will be again. For you see, where
she is, she has memory and foreknowledge, which are lacking to the
incarnated. Meanwhile, through you, and because of you, she can tell us
much. You are the wire which connects us to her in the Unseen.”
“Then I hope you will find another wire; I really do, for it upsets me
and makes me feel ill. I know that I shall be afraid to go to bed
to-night, and even for you, Miss Ogilvy, I won’t come next Sunday.”
Then, as the carriage was now at the door, he jumped into it and
departed without waiting for an answer.
Moreover, on the next Sunday, when, as usual, it arrived to fetch him at
Kleindorf, Godfrey kept his word, so that it went back empty. By the
coachman he sent an awkwardly worded note to Miss Ogilvy, saying that
he was suffering from toothache which had prevented him from sleeping
for several nights, and was not well enough to come out.
This note she answered by post, telling him that she had been
disappointed not to see him as she was also ill. She added that she
would send the carriage on the following Sunday on the chance of his
toothache being better, but that if it was not, she would understand
and trouble him no more.
During all that week Godfrey fought with himself. He did not wish to
have anything more to do with the white and ghostly Eleanor, who
changed her gems so constantly, and said that she had known him
millenniums ago. Indeed, he felt already as though she were much too
near him, especially at night, when he seemed to become aware of her
bending over his bed, and generally making her presence known in other
uncomfortable ways that caused his hair to stand up and frightened him.
At the same time he was really fond of Miss Ogilvy, and what she said
about being ill touched him. Also there was something that drew him; it
might be Eleanor, or it might be Madame Riennes. At any rate he felt a
great longing to go. Putting everything else aside, these
investigations had their delights. What other young fellow of his age
could boast an Eleanor, who said she had been fond of him tens of
thousands of years before?
Moreover, here was one of the gates to that knowledge which he desired
so earnestly, and how could he find the strength to shut it in his own
face?
Of course the end of the matter was that by the following Sunday, his
toothache had departed, and the carriage did not return empty to the
Villa Ogilvy.
He found his hostess looking white and ethereal, an appearance that she
had acquired increasingly ever since their first meeting. Her delight
at seeing him was obvious, as was that of the others. For this he soon
discovered the reason. It appeared that the sitting on the previous
Sunday, when he was overcome by toothache, had been an almost total
failure. Professor Petersen had tried to fill his place as medium, with
the result that when he fell under the influence, the only spirit that
broke through his lips was one which discoursed interminably about
lager beer and liqueurs of some celestial brew, which, as Madame
Riennes, a lady not given to mince her words, told him to his face
afterwards, was because he drank too much. Hence the joy of these
enthusiasts at the re-appearance of Godfrey.
With considerable reluctance that youth consented to play his usual
rôle, and to be put into a charmed sleep by Madame. This time he saw
no Eleanor, and knew nothing of what happened until he awoke to be
greeted by the horrific spectacle of Miss Ogilvy lying back in her
chair bathed in blood. General confusion reigned in the midst of which
Madame Riennes alone was calm.
“It is hæmorrhage from the lungs,” she said, “which is
common among _poitrinaires_. Brother Petersen, do what you can, and you,
Brother Smith, fly for Mademoiselle’s doctor, and if he is not at
home, bring another.”
Later Godfrey heard what had chanced. It seemed that the wraith, or
emanation, or the sprite, good or evil, or whatever it may have been,
which called itself Eleanor, materialized in a very ugly temper. It
complained that it had not been allowed to appear upon the previous
Sunday and had been kept away from its brother, i.e. Godfrey. Then it
proceeded to threaten all the circle, except Godfrey, who was the real
culprit, with divers misfortunes, especially directing its wrath
against Miss Ogilvy.
“You will die soon,” it said, “and in the spirit world I will
pay you back.” Thrice it repeated this: “You will die,” to
which Miss Ogilvy answered with calm dignity:
“I am not afraid to die, nor am I at all afraid of you, Eleanor, who,
as I now see, are not good but evil.”
While she spoke a torrent of blood burst from her lips, Eleanor
disappeared, and almost immediately Godfrey awoke.
In due course the doctor came and announced that the hæmorrhage had
ceased, and that the patient was in no imminent danger. As to the
future, he could say nothing, except that having been Miss Ogilvy’s
medical attendant for some years, he had expected something of this
sort to happen, and known that her life could not be very long.
Then Godfrey went home very terrified and chastened, blaming himself
also for this dreadful event, although in truth no one could have been
more innocent. He had grown very fond of Miss Ogilvy, and shuddered to
think that she must soon leave the world to seek a dim Unknown, where
there were bad spirits as well as good.
He shuddered, too, at the thought of this Eleanor, who made use of him
to appear in human form, and on his knees prayed God to protect him
from her. This indeed happened, if she had any real existence and was
not some mere creation of the brain of Madame Riennes, made visible by
the working of laws whereof we have no knowledge. Never again, during
all his life, did he actually see any more of Eleanor, and the
probability is that he never will, either here or elsewhere.
Three days later Godfrey received a letter from the doctor, saying that
Miss Ogilvy wished to see him, and that he recommended him not to delay
his visit. Having obtained the permission of the Pasteur, he went in at
once by the diligence, and on arrival at the villa, where evidently he
was expected, was shown up to a bedroom which commanded a beautiful
view of the lake and Mount Pilatus. Here a nurse met him and told him
that he must not stay long; a quarter of an hour at the outside. He
asked how Mademoiselle was, whereon she answered with an expressive
shrug:
“Soon she will be further from the earth than the top of that
mountain.”
Then she took him to another smaller room, and there upon the bed,
looking whiter than the sheets, lay his friend. She smiled very sweetly
when she caught sight of him.
“Dear Godfrey,” she said, “it is kind of you to come. I
wanted to see you very much, for three reasons. First, I wish to beg
your pardon for having drawn you into this spiritualism without your
knowing that I was doing so. I have told you what my motive was, and
therefore I will not repeat it, as my strength is small. Secondly, I
wish you to promise me that you will never go to another séance, since
now I am quite sure that it is dangerous for the young. To me
spiritualism has brought much good and joy, but with others it may be
different, especially as among spirits, as on the earth, there are evil
beings. Do you promise?”
“Yes, yes,” answered Godfrey, “only I am afraid of Madame
Riennes.”
“You must stand up against her if she troubles you, and seek the help
of religion; if necessary consult your old Pasteur, for he is a good
man. There is no danger in the world that cannot be escaped if only one
is bold enough, or so I think, though, alas! myself I have lacked
courage,” she added with a gentle sigh.
“Now, dear boy,” she went on after pausing to recover strength,
“I have a third thing to say to you. I have left you some money, as I
know that you will have little. It is not very much, but enough,
allowing for accidents and the lessening of capital values, to give you
£260 a year clear. I might have given you more, but did not, for two
reasons. The first is, that I have observed that young men who have
what is called a competence, say £500 or £600 a year, very often are
content to try and live on it, and to do nothing for themselves, so
that in the end it becomes, not a blessing, but a curse. The second is,
that to do so I should be obliged to take away from certain charities
and institutions which I wish to benefit. That is all I have to say
about money. Oh! no, there is one more thing. I have also left you the
talisman you gave me, and with it this house and grounds. Perhaps one
day you might like to live here. I have a sort of feeling that it will
be useful to you at some great crisis of your fate, and at least it
will remind you of me, who have loved and tried to beautify the place.
In any case it will always let, and if it becomes a white elephant, you
can sell it and the furniture, which is worth something.”
Godfrey began to stammer his thanks, but she cut him short with a wave
of her hand, murmuring:
“Don’t let us waste more time on such things, for soon you must go
away. Already I see that nurse looking at me from the doorway of the
other room, and I have something more to say to you. You will come to
think that all this spiritualism, as it is called, is nothing but a
dangerous folly. Well, it is dangerous, like climbing the Alps, but one
gets a great view from the top. And, oh! from there how small men look
and how near are the heavens. I mean, my dear boy, that although I have
asked you to abjure séances and so forth, I do pray of you to
cultivate the spiritual. The physical, of course, is always with us,
for that is Nature’s law, without which it could not continue. But
around and beyond it broods the spirit, as once it did upon the face of
the waters, encircling all things; the beginning of all things, and the
end. Only, as wine cannot be poured into a covered cup, so the spirit
cannot flow into a world-sealed heart, and what is the cup without the
wine? Open your heart, Godfrey, and receive the spirit, so that when
the mortal perishes the immortal may remain and everlastingly increase.
For you know, if we choose death we shall die, and if we choose life we
shall live; we, and all that is dear to us.”
Miss Ogilvy paused a little to get her breath, then went on: “Now, my
boy, kiss me and go. But first—one word more. I have taken a strange
affection for you, perhaps because we were associated in other
existences, I do not know. Well, I want to say that from the land
whither I am about to be borne, it shall be my great endeavour, if it
is so allowed, to watch over you, to help you if there be need, and in
the end to be among the first to greet you there, you, or any whom you
may love in this journey of yours through life. Look, the sun is
sinking. Now, goodbye till the dawn.”
He bent down and kissed her and she kissed him back, throwing her thin
and feeble arm about his neck, after which the nurse came and hurried
him away weeping. At the door he turned back and saw her smile at him,
and, oh! on her wasted face were peace and beauty.
Next day she died.
Forty-eight hours later Godfrey attended her funeral, to which the
Pasteur Boiset was also bidden, and after it was over they were both
summoned to the office of a notary where her will was read. She was a
rich woman, who left behind her property to the value of quite
£100,000, most of it in England. Indeed, this Swiss notary was only
concerned with her possessions in Lucerne, namely the Villa Ogilvy, its
grounds and furniture, and certain moneys that she had in local
securities or at the bank. The house, its appurtenances and contents,
were left absolutely to Godfrey, the Pasteur Boiset being appointed
trustee of the property until the heir came of age, with a legacy of
£200, and an annual allowance of £100 for his trouble.
Moreover, with tender care, except for certain bequests to servants, the
testatrix devoted all her Swiss moneys to be applied to the upkeep of
the place, with the proviso that if it were sold these capital sums
should revert to her other heirs in certain proportions. The total of
such moneys as would pass with the property, was estimated by the
notary to amount to about £4,000 sterling, after the payment of all
State charges and legal expenses. The value of the property itself,
with the fine old French furniture and pictures which it contained, was
also considerable, but unascertained. For the rest it would appear that
Godfrey inherited about £12,000 in England, together with a possible
further sum of which the amount was not known, as residuary legatee.
This bequest was vested in the English trustees of the testatrix who
were instructed to apply the interest for his benefit until he reached
the age of twenty-five, after which the capital was to be handed over
to him absolutely.
Godfrey, whose knowledge of the French tongue was still limited, and who
was overcome with grief moreover after the sad scene through which he
had just passed, listened to all these details with bewilderment. He
was not even elated when the grave notary shook his hand and
congratulated him with the respect that is accorded to an heir, at the
same time expressing a hope that he would be allowed to remain his
legal representative in Switzerland. Indeed, the lad only muttered
something and slipped away behind the servants whose sorrow was
distracted by the exercise of mental arithmetic as to the amount of
their legacies.
After his first stupefaction, however, the Pasteur could not conceal his
innocent joy. A legacy of £200, a trusteeship “of the most
important,” as he called it, and an allowance of £100 for years to
come, were to him wonderful wealth and honour.
“Truly, dear young friend,” he said to Godfrey, as they left the
office, “it was a fortunate hour for me, and for you also, when you
entered my humble house. Now I am not only your instructor, but the
guardian of your magnificent Lucerne property. I assure you that I will
care for it well. To-morrow I will interview those domestics and
dismiss at least half of them, for there are far too many.”