XXXCONVALESCENCE AND COMMON SENSE
THESE periods of hallucination, mingled with very practical considerations, continued for some days, until the fever ran its course. Fortunately it is not within the scope of this story to note the progress of physical ailments; it is more timely to note the effects upon the mental and the spiritual life of an excellent woman ever true to herself and to others, even during hallucinations. It was fortunate also that Mrs. Cultus herself relieved her attendants of any uncertainty in the matter.
She had just passed through a period of exceptionally vivid impressions of disaster, when one of those flashes of clearer perception, before referred to, came to her rescue; whether merely a reaction from her previous weak condition, or because she was so thoroughly frightened by what she had conceived as possible, need not now be discussed. That she did brighten up marvelously and manifest then and there a permanent change for the better, was a fact. And again it was Miss Winchester who was with her.
“Frank,” said Mrs. Cultus composedly, and with an air of finality, “I’ve made up my mind; I’m determined.”
“You don’t say so—good!—about what?”
“To get well, that’s the first thing. I can’t stand this being a care to others.”
“You are better, I’m sure; much better.”
“Not much as yet, but I can see it. I will be.”
Miss Winchester gave a little start. “See it? see what?” fearing lest the patient was again off at a tangent after more disasters. But Mrs. Cultus, having obtained a mental grip upon herself, would not let go, even if she still felt weak physically.
“Tell me what you see,” said Miss Winchester gently, taking her by the hand, and continuing to wave the fan she held.
“Oh, Frank! what a terrible thing it would be to be caught in such a predicament, and unprepared!”
“How, my dear?”
“I’ve been imagining all sorts of things—these Indian beds are not the best sort for me, I fear; I’ve been imagining—nonsense, of course, for us—but just think how awful it would be to lose one’s means of support! be forced to work for a living! and then not be able to succeed; I mean when the real thing does happen.”
“The world is full of cases like that.”
“Yes, I knew that before; but now I have actually felt it, just as if it were true in our own case. I was sort of luny all the time, even when my head floated off like a balloon. I thought it was serious, and I suffered as much as if it had really been true. Why, poor Adele—it would have killed me to see her in such hard circumstances. Adele would have—let me think—I’m wrong! Adele would not have——”
A strange expression came over her countenance, as if something ineffably joyous and precious was just revealed to her. She closed her eyes, and evidently was seeing the image of her daughter in a new light.
Miss Winchester kept on fanning her gently, hoping she would soon fall asleep.
But Mrs. Cultus’ spiritual discernment had been quickened; and with it came the real, true conquest over both physical weakness and mental vagaries. Her eyes opened again, theywere clearer than ever; her voice had a new depth, and was certainly more sympathetic than before the fever began—it manifested the spiritually melodious quality in essence.
“What about Adele?” asked Miss Winchester tenderly.
“Oh! I love her so much! She is so much to me; I cannot tell you how much.”
“We all love her,” said Miss Winchester, innocently repeating the very words Adele had used when speaking of her mother.
“Yes, I know that, too; no one knows it better than I; but I now see something about her I never saw before so clearly.”
“Tell me what it is.”
“Frank!—a mystery! Adeleisprepared. She is ready for anything that may happen. None of us need ever fear for Adele, I’m sure of that; and I can see that she acts as she does because she feels prepared. I must tell you about her; it is a mystery, yet at the same time the most practical thing.”
All the positive elements in Mrs. Cultus now seemed focused on the conviction that Adele was “prepared,” as she called it, for anything, any emergency.
“She has many to look to,” said Miss Winchester, “more than most girls.”
“Yes, but I’m not thinking of that. I mean her own strength, something within herself, something I suppose all girls could have if they were like Adele. I’m beginning now to understand that—beginning to understand a little of how she acts and why she does as she does. Adele could endure and overcome adversity; she enjoys pleasure, more than any of us; she lives what she believes, and is not afraid of anything. Do you notice it, Frank, Adele is never afraid?”
Miss Winchester felt a little incredulous, but she said nothing. Mrs. Cultus continued:
“I never before so well understood Adele, although I am her mother. At times she talks like a chatterbox, but she never says anything unkind about people. Perhaps Ishouldn’t say ‘never,’ for she did once give a regular scolding to a rascally brute who was abusing his horse—a dumb creature that couldn’t retaliate. Adele did speak for the dumb brute, but that was an exceptional case, and she did right to interfere.”
“She has my full approval,” remarked Miss Winchester. Mrs. Cultus continued:
“Then she is interested in all babies—would you believe it?—of any color. ‘Cherubs’ she calls them if she thinks it will stop their crying. I heard her one day call a cherub, ‘Cupid,’ and kiss him. Bless me, I saw nothing attractive in that particular child. She says she likes babies just as God made them, of any color. Now, Frank, I call that practical religion, and Adele turns from nothing; she is interested in all humanity.”
“No doubt of it,” said Miss Winchester thoughtfully, as if recalling an instance known to her personally.
Mrs. Cultus continued: “But when it comes to talkative religion, Adele is more conservative, says little or nothing—only acts naturally what she feels. And the strangest thing of all is——” and Adele’s mother paused an instant as if she ought to be careful about what she wished to say.
“What?” asked Miss Winchester, closely attentive.
“Why, she is always so sure, so perfectly sure in her own mind, as if under the influence of some invisible power—something mystical, you see, but very practical, too. I never heard her say much about it but once—you remember when she spoke to that Geyser Science woman on the Atlantic steamer?—and then she certainly did express herself like a girl much older, very precocious, to my notion. Do you know what I think, Frank?”
“No, I can’t imagine.”
“Well, Adele was talking about Christ, and she was perfectly fearless; you remember how He talked, when only a youth, to the Doctors in the Temple?”
It was difficult for Miss Winchester to accept this comparison; and seeing her hesitate, Mrs. Cultus tried to express herself in better form:
“It seems to me Adele had the same spirit, and that’s what I feel. Now you remember that Geyser Doctor, who at first appeared so placid, and talked about what she really knew so little; and then ended by exploding her ideas? Frank, I shall never forget her, or the explosion, and its effect on Adele. It was the first, last, and only time I ever saw Adele in a religious discussion, and I never expect to see her so caught again; in fact, she told me she would never indulge again, not if she knew it in time.”
Miss Winchester nodded in remembrance, and was much surprised that Mrs. Cultus should be able to display so much of her old-time vigor, when lately she was so weak. “Her spirit is stronger than ever,” thought Miss Winchester. Another pause, and then Mrs. Cultus continued:
“I shall never forget that scene, because the child talked as if she knew personally Him in whom she believed; as if the One in whom she believed was being misquoted, if not actually slandered, and all that sort of thing.”
Miss Winchester listened more attentively than ever.
“My dear, the child was right. I can see it all now. A sort of holy jealousy, because she was averse to hearing anything so misleading attributed to Him in whom she believed. Now, for a girl to feel that way means a great deal, a very great deal—it means everything. Adele was far more than interested; she felt intensely all she said. How did she do it? Why did she do it? Had the Holy Spirit spoken in her heart? Frank, that is a mystery! Nobody, I trust, can deceive me about such things, and I can see so much more than ever now, and in a new light. Now, I know God is Love, because He gave me Adele, and I try to love Him for it; and just between us, you and me, myself, it is going to be very hard for me to give her up, even to Paul.”
Miss Winchester would not have interrupted Mrs. Cultus on any account as she was thus opening her own heart freely, fearlessly. There was a beauty in these revelations fundamentally holy.
“One of the strange things,” continued Adele’s mother, “is how nothing has been changed with Adele since she became engaged to Paul; just the reverse, her feelings seem even more intense; and her love for Paul influences her for good in every way.”
Miss Winchester, not wishing to intrude in these family matters, made an effort to change the subject; but it was of no use. Mrs. Cultus was too much interested in her daughter’s future to talk of anything else; while her natural tact was too vigilant to admit of any indiscretion.
“Adele and Paul,” said she, “with all their nonsense and lovers’ pranks, get more out of their fun than any young people I ever saw. I’ve watched ’em often. Adele does not give up a thing worth seeing, and she goes into unspeakable places with her Father and Paul. They tell me not to worry about her, for she is always equal to any emergency. I wasn’t so fearless when I was a girl. But Adele is different. I shouldn’t be surprised if she did get into trouble some time.”
“Of course she may—that’s where the fun comes in,” said Miss Winchester, less serious.
Adele’s mother looked up in alarm. “What are you laughing at, Frank? Has she already been getting into scrapes?”
“Oh, no scrape, but I saw her on her dignity in a little scene at Benares.”
“What was it?”
“We were in one of the temples, and a young Brahmin approached her when she was a little distance from us and alone. He was a good-looking young fellow, and he seemed to know it. What he said I don’t know, and what she saw wrong in him I can only conjecture, but the few glances she gave him put him in a different frame of mind. He certainlychanged his manner and bearing as if forced to recognize some superiority in her. One doesn’t often see that sort of thing in young Brahmins, or their elders either. Only too often that caste seems to arrogate to itself a special license to do as it pleases.”
“There! I told you she was never afraid!” exclaimed Mrs. Cultus. “Adele changed that fellow’s mind by a glance—and a Brahmin at that; overcome by the use of his own weapons. No, she is fearless. Whatever she does, she’s never afraid. Very mysterious, yet so much common sense to make it effective. It is as if—as if—oh, how shall I express what I want to say in a few words? as if—the truth had made her free.”
“Why, she must be a veritable Christian Psychologist,” said Miss Winchester, seriously.
“There is no doubt of it,” answered Adele’s mother, confidently. “Adele believes in the Greatest Psychologist that ever lived.”
No more was said, and Mrs. Cultus pondered over these things in her heart. The exertion of talking had fatigued her, in spite of the increased spiritual strength which had been born of her suffering. While looking at some flowers which Paul had brought into her room, their beauty seemed to lift her soul beyond them. Was it into the region of her own youth, or of Adele’s youth?—or more beautiful still, the realm of Perpetual Youth? Sleep came nigh.
She noticed that Paul’s flowers were buds just ready to bloom. There was among them a lily, not a lily of the valley but of the Annunciation; an Easter lily, double emblem of new life—new life here, and resurrection into the New Life of Perpetual Youth. It was the same sort of lily that she remembered seeing in a sacred picture representing an Angel’s Visit.
As Nature’s Comforter, restful slumber, closed her eyelids in blessed peace, she seemed to behold herself in the act ofgiving this lily to Paul. Miss Winchester heard the whispering as she dozed off:
“Take it, Paul; it is a priceless treasure. This bud in blooming will sweeten all your life. Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.”
Certainly an unexpected conclusion to be reached by the worldly-minded Mrs. Cultus; but practical, as truth itself is both mystical and practical. How different the hallucinations during illness and bodily weakness, from the spiritual experience, the visions of truth which really conquer physical weakness and rise into the Realm of Perpetual Youth!
“Verily, a double blessing she gave them,” said Miss Winchester—“youth here, youth perpetual.”