CHAPTER XXVI
ESTHER’S DISAPPEARANCE
The shock of Professor Russell’s last visit and forced departure prostrated Alice Cramer, and in the days that followed, a little life that should have brightened Mark’s home opened its eyes to shut them too quickly, and went away into the unknown from whence it came, leaving desolation and sorrow behind it. But this bereavement was swallowed up in the anxiety for the mother, who for many days seemed about to follow her child.
At the same time another calamity befell the community, a tragedy that touched all hearts. This was nothing less than the sudden and unaccountable disappearance of Esther McCleary upon the night Russell had been driven from Mark’s house.
Where she went or how, no one could determine. She had gone to her room at the usual hour of retiring. In the morning she was gone, leaving no word or trace of her going. Her mother refused to believe that any harm could have befallen her, and would have kept the matter secret; but the poor father at last dared to think for himself, and notified the neighbors.
With their help he searched the canon and the weed-covered tracts of the prairies to find, perchance, her body, while Donald went to the nearest railway stations to learn if she had been seen to depart by any of them, but to no avail.
Whether she had, in the depth of her despair, taken her own life; whether, to free herself from the noxious presence of Russell, she had disguised herself and fled to parts unknown; whether she had been spirited away by some of his familiar spectres, or whether, in his complete obsession of her, the unprincipled scoundrel had abducted her, could not be learned. She was gone, and the unfortunate mother had leisure to inquire of her own conscience, how far she had been to blame for this tragedy in her home.
Professor Russell had not been seen in the neighborhood again, and during Alice’s convalescence the unfortunate events occurring during her illness, as well as those preceding it, were rarely alluded to, and her friends were delighted to find her apparently happier and brighter than formerly. Lissa, too, had largely recovered her normal condition, owing chiefly to Tibby’s influence, and the world looked brighter to some of the actors in this part of it.
The exposure of the deception practised upon them, added to the mysterious disappearance of Esther upon the same night of Russell’s departure, staggered the belief of many of his converts, and no seances were held in the neighborhood.
The weeks wore away, and yet Mrs. Wylie remained at her brother’s home. She felt as if Alice really needed the companionship of Tibby and herself. In the early autumn Mr. Wylie was going to New York on business and would call for her, and together they would go East. The sojourn had been a pleasant one for Mrs. Wylie, despite the tragedies enacted, the excitement, and the absence of the fashionable circle of her friends. Her little boy had grown brown and stout-limbed in his liberty, and she herself was rested and happy. The long letters from her husband, which came with unfailing regularity, filled with news and anecdotes of the life in which he lived, helped to break the monotony of rural life, and as September approached and she began to look forward to his coming, the little estrangements were forgotten and Nellie Wylie dwelt fondly upon her husband’s perfections as she talked of him to her sister-in-law.
“You cannot think, Alice, what a wonderful business man Horace is,” she said as they sat in the little doorway of the house one beautiful September evening watching the sun sink behind the fringe of cotton-wood trees in the distant west. “If he were to fail in business to-day he would be on sound footing to-morrow. He seems to know instinctively what to do. I need never have any fear for the future, having him to rely on.”
“He has been very kind to allow you to stay with us so long. He must be very lonely without his family,” Alice replied.
“Yes, though he is with his sister a great deal, and she is—Forgive me, dear, I was about to say she was one of those dreadful spiritists. But really she is fanatical in her beliefs and goes to such lengths in it. That is the one regret I have for being away. I don’t like her influence over Horace. But forgive me, Alice, I beg of you. Though I hope now you feel the same as I do about it, I know I should not have introduced the subject.”
“On the contrary, I am very glad you have done so. I want to tell you that since Professor Russell went away I have seen fewer visions and thought less upon the subject. I am really much less nervous than when you came, and yet I cannot entirely rid myself of those—spirit presences. If the evil ones have been driven away, there are kind ones who come to me in my dreams. I believe Tibby exorcised the evil ones who made life such a torture to me, and I cannot tell you how thankful I am that you came here this summer and brought me deliverance. But for this I should have been lying there with my baby, or been in the mad-house. I am sure of it. But I see Mark coming. I must run and see if tea is made for him.”
“Well, sister mine,” Mark said, springing from his horse and throwing the reins over its neck. “When do you expect to hear from Horace?”
“To-day, now! Give me the letter quick!” she cried, holding out her hands to him. “Ah, a telegram. He must have started, then.” And she hastily tore open the envelope. “Yes, it is from Johnson, his partner, and says, ‘Wylie started on No. 5, to-night, for the East.’ Oh, isn’t that grand! He will be here in a few days.”
“You have been somewhat lonely here in the wilds, I suspect, little sister; but we shall regret your going.”
“And I shall miss you all very much, wherever I am; but I suppose Horace will be willing to stop only a very short time, so we can be here but a few days longer. Let me see, this is the eighth. He should be here by the twelfth, should he not? Robbie, come here, dear. Papa is coming. Do you hear?” And Nellie Wylie caught up the little fellow and kissed him in the exuberance of her delight.
“I am glad you will leave Alice in so much better health, mentally and physically, than she was when you came,” Mark said.
“Yes, and better than all, with that man banished from this place.”