XPALMISTRY POSES AS MENTAL SCIENCE
IT was not difficult for the Doctor to obtain an interview, and this without really introducing himself, simply by some casual remark suggested by the surroundings. He soon succeeded in directing conversation away from the immediate vicinity and called attention to objects at a distance, of course interjecting the highly original remark that distance lends enchantment. Mrs. Thorn at once appreciated the enchantment part of the proceedings, and pointed with her forefinger at certain objects as not being exactly what they seemed,—thereby illustrating what was really more important for the Doctor to find out, namely, that she had no real objection from refinement of feeling to specify given objects by pointing at them. If she did appreciate enchantment, so-called, she was certainly very practical in its application. From the Doctor’s point of view this was simply “delicious” on her part, and made him more blandly-persuasive-appreciative than ever. Within five minutes more he had Mrs. Thorn and her attendant both pointing at various features, clouds, waves, ripples, a passing ship, the capstan and the captain’s signals, anything, in fact, that would cause them to use their hands; even soiled spots on the hand-rail and some very sticky tar on a rope he made them avoid touching by withdrawing their hands, any movement, in fact, that would show both the form and action of their hands in connection with the spoken words,—the hands suiting the action to the word(thoughts). Mrs. Thorn was, in fact, betraying herself by every word and action, and the expert Doctor reading “the natural tendencies of the individuals” as if an open book.
The Cultus group privately watched these proceedings. Paul and Adele, with heads rather close together, having their own fun, Paul imitating the Doctor, and interjecting the platitudes-of-humbuggery he had often heard the Doctor use before in similar palmistry cases.
“You are a person with strong social instincts,” remarked Paul, wise as an owl.
“Yes! not a hermit,—thanks!” said Adele.
“Very popular. Lot of fellows might fall in—h’m!—admiration of you.”
“Thanks again, but don’t look at me, watch the Doctor.”
The Doctor was peering into Mrs. Thorn’s hand, which she held out to him with evident satisfaction. Of course Paul seized Adele’s hand while watching.
What was the Doctor examining with such apparent interest? In general terms, a short fleshy hand, soft, with thin skin, and ruddy color easily suppressed or caused under pressure. Fingers only slightly tapering, with tips of the well known “useful” curve when viewed from the under side, yet curiously suggestive of the spatulate when seen from the back. Thumb well proportioned and turning back spontaneously with considerable self-assertion. But most noticeable of all, where the roots of the fingers joined the palm, materialism developed to an exceptional degree, almost of the “elementary” type. A combination more curious than rare, designating certain womanly instincts likely to operate by methods presumably masculine in character. It was not easy to formulate a specific diagnosis until after hearing such a person converse on subjects about which she had had an interested experience, for no mortal could reasonably conjecture, not even she herself, how things would go eventually. Certainly a woman of the world with strong emotions, no doubt loquacious at times,yet a very clear head when it came to action; and material results never lost sight of. Strange to say, however, the hands themselves were soon forgotten, attention being drawn to their adornment. The woman had an inordinate passion for precious gems. Mrs. Thorn wore upon each hand exquisite rings, superb stones set in excellent taste, but rather a mixture when displayed together. The usual solitaires, also set with sapphires of peculiar peacock hue; a changeable alexandrite, and a ruby amid emeralds as leaves, evidently some color-scheme taken direct from nature; not a topaz nor white sapphire among the lot, and evidently the wearer knew cat’s-eyes from Norwegian opals, even if others did not. Even these, however, were secondary to afire-opal of true Indian iridescence. A cleft-opal, that mysterious gem so suggestive to mystics in all climes. The light came from within the stone, through an irregular cleft, the exterior still rough;—by no means a conspicuous ornament, but when the eye upon close examination penetrated the cleft, the mysterious interior was ablaze with variegated colors. It was this fire-opal the Doctor was examining when Adele caught him holding the impressionist hand. The Cultus group saw little more of the Doctor until after-dinner-promenade on deck; he was occupied with Mrs. Thorn. Then Miss Winchester at once applied at the bureau of information.
“What are the probabilities, Doctor Wise? mystic, or merely gymnastic? One must never judge by appearances, of course, but——” and Miss Winchester gave a little cough to suggest her impression.
“Oh, a very interesting case,—very intelligent and thoroughly practical. She talks mysticism like a California theosophist, but acts like a cool-headed politician. Her thoughts are about mysticism in its useful aspects; her words mystical because a good business method for her; and her acts businesslike, very, from the mystical point of view. How do you like that for a type?”
“Evidently interesting to talk to,—also good to keep clear of, in business,” thought Miss Winchester.
“So that’s what you palm-cranks call a mixed type!” exclaimed Mrs. Cultus. “I call her variegated.”
“Oh, of course she is bound to be contradictory, in appearance at least, at odd times,” said the Doctor. “Moody as a mystic, dogmatic as a sectarian theologian, and will take risks like a Wall Street speculator. She is made that way, she is constitutionally so. Oh, yes, she is a bundle of mystical impressions held together by very clear ideas of what she wants, also has fearless business methods to obtain it. The seeming contradiction is more apparent than real, however.”
“How about those rings?” quizzed Adele, when Paul’s back was turned.
“Well, only one thing worth remembering. She wears her largest upon her forefinger, the most conspicuous position possible, a sure sign of—but let that pass.”
“No, Doctor! no passing allowed in this game—just tell me, but please don’t tell Paul, or I shall never hear the end, no matter what it is;” and she put her arm in the Doctor’s, drawing him off for a deck promenade.
“Well, my dear, if you must know, the woman can’t help advertising herself,—a most unrefined quality in woman, to my notion. Men, you know, no matter how much they may do it themselves, generally detest that sort of thing in women. That’s one way in which her feminine instinct for appreciation takes a somewhat masculine form in action. I could only find it out surely by conversation with her. Now I expect to hear of her some day as President of the International Impressionists’ Mental-Mystic Board of Trade. She will make a good thing of it and possibly then disappear, mystically.”
Adele shuddered. The Doctor felt the motion on his arm. Evidently that sort of talk was antipathetic to Adele.
After a little while she asked quietly:
“Does she presume to practice when travelling?”
“I should not be surprised if she were at it now. She told me there was a patient on board whom she knew she could cure, whether he had faith or not.” Adele twitched again.
“That sort of thing ought to be counteracted in some way. I’ve not served in a hospital without learning at least that much. But here! Oh, what can we do?”