CHAPTER X
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.