CHAPTER VI.MRS. GRANGE AND THE PRESIDENT.
It was the powerful influence of the minds of the Governor and his able coworkers upon the people which produced quiet.
Even the aggressive Señorita Marriet Motuble leaned back in her chair with a dreamy faraway look on her face.
The Governor had spoken longer than he intended, and on looking at the timepiece, which occupied a conspicuous place in the room, he was greatly surprised to find the hour of midnight.
The President of the United States dismissed the assembly with a few complimentary and brilliant remarks, but strictly avoided making any allusion to the affair just ended, or rather, I would better say, which had just been quieted; for the scene had not ended, it was only the beginning of a fearful struggle, which would not end in a day, a week, a month, a year.
The committee having the arrangements for the banquet in hand, passed into the hall, some leading the way escorting the guests who came in first with invitations, others with those who came in last.
Everybody felt greatly impressed with some impending trouble, yet each endeavored to hide his anxiety behind a smile.
The subjects upon whom the scientists had been experimenting and from whom such great results had been obtained, were special objects of interest at the banquet. J. Ecarg looked greatly embarrassed; most of the evening, however, at times he seemed to lapse into a semi-conscious state. He only appeared to be at ease and contented when talking to Marriet Motuble.
Several times during the evening he was heard to laugh out merrily at some jest made by her.
Mr. Niksab was often the center of a large crowd, whom he entertained with stories of the effect of “Memory Fluid” upon himself and others.
Occasionally he stole a glance from his eager listeners in the direction of Marriet Motuble and his friend John Ecarg. He felt a deep interest in him, and in a measure responsible for the result of his present condition, of his awakening.
There were so many people present that it was impossible for each to meet the other during the evening. All the most prominent citizens were presented to the President and other invited guests from abroad. The Governor tried to have a few pleasant words with all visitors and newcomers to the city.
Toasts were proposed in which response was made in the most brilliant and appropriate manner.
The toast, “Our Beautiful Women,” was proposed by a gallant visitor, and the Governor was called upon to reply.
With his usual gallantry he responded. Crowds of beautiful women, many of whom belonged to the fast set before mentioned, drew near.
One in particular made herself conspicuous by getting very near the President and clapping her hands at everything the Governor said—words complimentary to women.
She was the wife of a Scotchman who, having failed as an opera singer, was obliged to try his hand in other lines,—railroading and commercial fields. Having secured, at a small salary, a place in a railroad office, with the high title of “Assistant Freight Agent,” he was forced to depend upon his form, his pretty face and his voice, (which by way of apology, he always explained, he hoped to recover), as well as his wife’s winning ways, and her ability to “act” in amateur dramatic performances, for their social position.
Mrs. Grange made the most of her winning ways. She flirted, and smiled, and danced and drank wine with every man of position and wealth, who paid her the slightest attention, and hinted only at such favors.
In the little game she played she very often came out winner; that is, winner in a way. She received for herself and husband an invitation for the next swell function, and often the present of a new gown for the occasion from her latest conquest, who also assured her that he would use his personal influence with the president of the railroad where her husband was employed, to have him retained in his position. Quite frequently these admirers of hers hinted that through their influence there was likely to be a raise in his salary. The raise, however, never came, yet the promise of it did them good; it was something to which they could look forward.
It was probably the hope of securing such a promise, by the aid of some of the famous men present, that Mrs. Grange disported herself so bewitchingly before them.
To herself her charms as reflected from her mirror, seemed irresistible, and it was a source of constant wonder to her why any man failed to become her victim.
In her case the formality of an introduction was never necessary. Yet she realized the prestige a formal introduction gave her, and by intriguing with those who did not know her arts, she very often was presented to people of influence by their own friends. She affected a retiring manner, and made her blushes to order.
Those to whom she was first introduced thought her a combination of beauty, modesty and purity, and her entertaining powers superior to anyone whom they had seen. Her great bashfulness enhanced her ability to entertain, they thought. The President of the United States certainly seemed to think so, from the way his face shone with pleasure as he gazed into her half upturned face, full of blushes that came and went as she talked.
The Governor had just concluded his response to the toast, “Beautiful Women,” which was eliciting a storm of applause. Guests were collected in twos and threes, discussing the brilliancy of his remarks.
Some of the gentlemen were discussing which one of the many beautiful women present would be thought the most beautiful, by the greatest number of persons at the banquet, if a vote were taken.
The President wished the woman into whose face hegazed with evident admiration might be chosen as the queen of beauty, and in a voice only meant for her ears told her so.
But Marriet Motuble stood close by and had been an eye-witness to the little, quiet game of flirtation, which they did not dream had attracted the attention of anyone.
She also heard the pretty compliments paid Mrs. Grange by the President, and at the time most inopportune for them, she stepped closer to them, and in a tone which carried much satire, said: “A pretty compliment indeed, Mrs. Grange; but pardon me, please, it was not meant for my ears.”
The President was evidently annoyed, although he tried hard to hide his real feeling, and said: “We, too, Miss Motuble, were discussing the Governor’s able speech. He paid beautiful tributes of appreciation to the many charming women present.”
“Your Honor, that is quite true; he is a great Chesterfield. He knows how to be gracious to the ladies,homelyones as well as beautiful, timid ones,” said Mrs. Grange, as she turned her face full of earnest pleading up to his.
The President did not reply in words, but the look he gave her, as he bent his head until it nearly touched hers, was proof enough to Marriet Motuble that he was afraid to trust his voice. His chest heaved with tender emotions inspired by Mrs. Grange, and one word would betray his real feeling.
On neither of those two did the stirring events just passed, seem to have left any impression.
Marriet Motuble well knew the mental calibre of the woman, and was not in the least astonished to find Mrs. Grange in the affected state she always assumed when with men.
“But the President! the President!” exclaimed Marriet Motuble, mentally. “I cannot understand how the leader of our great nation can carry on a sentimental conversation with a brainless beauty (?) when the great city of Chihuahua is in such a state of excitement. There is no telling where the events just transpired will end. I for one am sorry this terrible calm is taking place. It seems to me a time of preparation for a greater shock. He is a great actor if he is mentally disturbed and can so completely disguise his true feelings. I will test him.”—“Say, President,” she cried, as she whirled her huge frame in front of the two, and interrupted the low conversation, “Governor Lehumada is a fine actor, is he not?”
“In what way, pray, Miss Motuble?”
“In the disguise of his real feelings.”
“He is a heroic actor,” said Mrs. Grange.
“He is, indeed,” curtly replied Miss Motuble, addressing herself to Mrs. Grange; then in a complete change of voice, said, speaking to the President, with her back half turned to Mrs. Grange, “I mean, your Honor, that the noble man yonder is in a high fever of excitement caused by the disturbance in the auditorium—for he realizes that it was just the beginning of a long conflict, the end of which cannot be seen by mortal eyes. Yet the noble man is able to conceal his feeling out of his great love for his people, and his desire to have the banquet end successfully.”
“You know your people here better than I, Miss Motuble, this being your home; and pray, do you anticipate any further trouble?”
“I know the city but little better than yourself, your Honor, except possibly in the way of remembrance.”
Mrs. Grange, arousing herself from her passive state, said in a voice loud and cutting: “Asubjectof that fluid also!”
Ignoring her altogether, Marriet Motuble continued:
“With your Honor’s permission, I do remember many persons present as having lived in lives gone by. Some here to-night lived in this city one hundred and fifty years ago.”
“May I ask whom?”
“Most truly.”
“Not I, I hope,” again ventured Mrs. Grange.
“The child,” continued Marriet Motuble, “lived then.”
“What child?” inquired the President.
“Ah, ’tis true, you do not know. What a pity! The beautiful little girl who sat by the Governor during his lecture. Catalina Martinet. Dear child!”
“Can it be possible!” exclaimed the President.
“Quite true, your Honor. Sheremembers. She died at the age of eighteen of a broken heart.”
“How sad,” remarked Mrs. Grange, persisting in trying to join in the conversation.
“Was her death the result of a disappointed love?” asked the President.
“On the other hand,” replied Miss Motuble, “quite the contrary. Her heart, poor child, was broken whenshe learned of the cloud under which she was born—that she was an outcast—a waif. She died in my arms.”
“Impossible,” exclaimed Mrs. Grange.
“Not at all,” quietly replied the President. “One is as likely as the other, while neither isimpossible.”
Marriet Motuble continued as though there had been no interruption: “She died in my arms. I buried her at my own expense in a tomb befitting a queen. And truly she was a queen. The deed to the ground I built her tomb on I have in my safe amongst my legal documents. Every word is legible. I could not bear to think that her precious body, possibly before the flesh had decomposed, would be thrown out of the grave to make way for a new corpse, as was the cruel custom in Mexico then. Her tomb is in a state of perfect preservation yet. I hope soon to finish this cycle and have made arrangements to have the destructible part of me, or that part of me recognized by those not initiated, laid away there.”
“How interesting. Quite uncanny, though!” ventured Mrs. Grange, as she peered around her as though expecting to see a ghost. She evidently saw something; for her face turned very white and she trembled with fright as she sank into a chair.
The President saw but paid no attention to her. He was interested in Marriet Motuble. The story she was telling was a revelation to him.
She, too, saw that something unusual had happened to Mrs. Grange, but paid no attention to her, and continued: “I know the child’s genealogies, of both her past and present existence. She, like myself, is here fora purpose. There are many who have congregated here for the same purpose. While the prime cause for the great meeting here was the same, many great results will be obtained other than the one hoped for in the beginning.”
“Can it be that you are here also to aid the scientists in getting proof to bring the ‘Plunger from Kansas’ to justice?” asked the President, with much surprise, and showing great interest.
“Indirectly only. I am here for the direct purpose of finding one whom I loved in that same time—a young, beautiful woman, whose poverty was the result of the doings of the ‘Plunger from Kansas,’ and who suffered much loss financially and great abuse from the slanderous tongues of jealous Americans living in Chihuahua.”
“Are you certain that the lady of whom you speak is living now?” asked the President.
“It must be true. I feel her presence, yet I have not been able to find her. She will come. She will come. A young woman, beautiful and talented. Must I wait much longer? I——”
Her last remark was cut short by some one calling, in a low, sweet tone: “Señorita Motuble. Ah, here you are. I have been looking for you for two hours. I am Catalina Martinet. It was my tomb you had built long, long ago. Youremembernow, don’t you?”
She caught the beautiful child in her arms, kissed her in her passionate way, and cried: “Yes, dearie, I know you. You are happy now, are you not?”
“Oh, yes!” exclaimed the child. “Since I know that justice comes to all, I am happy. And you?”
“Dearie, I too am happy in a way. But do not worry about me. Let us talk about other things. Catalina, this gentleman, Mr. Mortingo, is President of the United States.”
“Your Honor, it is with much pleasure I meet you again,” Catalina smilingly replied. “I remember you quite well. I met you when you were here before.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed the President. “Dear child, I was never in this city before. This is my first visit.”
“Too bad, he does not remember,” addressing Miss Motuble. Then to the President she said: “In yourotherlife. I will call the Governor to give you some ‘Memory Fluid’;” and with a wave of her hand, before they could realize what she was going to do, she was gone.
The President’s conversation with Miss Motuble had not been carried on without many interruptions. While he realized that he was the most prominent person present, and that he owed part of his time to all, yet so intensely interested was he in the aggressive Miss Motuble, that he was determined at any cost to hear her story through.
The remark of Catalina Martinet was heard by many near by, some of whom were intimate friends of the President. They now stepped forward and began to banter him about taking “Memory Fluid.”
The President took their jests in good part, at the same time avowing his intention of experimenting with the wonderful fluid.
While those around the President listened with muchmerriment to him, as he related the little incident with the child, Marriet Motuble turned her attention to the beautiful, retiring Mrs. Grange, who, so far as the President was concerned, had ceased to exist.
“This,” she exclaimed, as she held up Mrs. Grange’s lifeless head, “is an example of coming memory.”
The President looked at her for a moment in mute astonishment.
“Oh, your Honor, it is true.”
“But the fluid, Miss Motuble. Who gave her ‘Memory Fluid’?” asked the Spanish Consul, who had been an eager listener only for the present time.
“I, your most humble servant. I did.”
“But when and how?” asked the President’s daughter, who just came up.
“Possibly I would better not say,” Miss Motuble answered.
“Oh, do; oh, do!” came from all sides.
“Yes, let us hear, Miss Motuble, how you came to be such an expert in handling our fluid,” quietly asked the Governor, who came up leading Catalina Martinet.
Marriet Motuble dropped the lifeless head of Mrs. Grange on the back of the chair where she sat, and in a pleading voice said: “Dear Governor, I must first have your promise that you will forgive me for making tests of your fluid without the consent of yourself or the great scientist, Guillermo Gonzales. Don’t tell me, I pray, that I have taken too much liberty with your great discovery.”
“On the other hand, Miss Motuble, I am personally delighted that you are thus experimenting, and I feelconfident my able coworkers too, will be grateful to you for taking so much interest in our ‘Memory Fluid.’”
“Bravo! Say, gentlemen and ladies, that is the kind of stuff to make governors out of, and scientists, too. Well, so long as the culprit is not to be punished, I will confess. While ‘Memory Fluid’ has no odor, a simple inhalation of it will cause a cataleptic state, such as the state in which we now find the beautiful (?) Mrs. Grange. When she comes out of this state, in which she has been about five minutes, she will begin toremember. And if I am not mistaken, she will begin to regret the life of deceit she has been leading.”
Catalina cried: “Señorita Motuble, she will remember and yet will be punished for her ill treatment of me in that unhappy life of mine, long, long ago.”
Everyone stood around in breathless surprise.
Marriet Motuble kissed the child Catalina, standing by her side and holding in tight clasp the Governor’s hand, and said: “Dearie, she will remember, and I hope that her first regret will be of her ill treatment of you. See! she moves.”
The crowd stood back in breathless expectation.
Secretly the Governor and the other two scientists rejoiced at what was now taking place. It was the realization of a long-looked-for opportunity. A public exhibition of the effect of “Memory Fluid” and the proof of its harmlessness.
“She moves again,” came in subdued tones from some one standing by. Much the same effect seemed to be produced upon those witnessing the scene, as would take place if Mrs. Grange had been dead and they were waiting to see her return to life.
“She moves again,” said the Spanish consul, stepping closer. “The fluid has caused no change in her complexion, and her circulation is very little wrong,” he concluded, as he let her wrist drop, but gazed with evident admiration into her face.
He tarried a little too long. She opened her eyes, and finding a strange face so close to hers, exclaimed at the same moment as she threw out her hands and pushed him away:
“The impudence of you, you ill-bred scamp!”
“But, madam,” said the President, “it was his anxiety for your return to consciousness that caused the consul to be peering into your face.”
“Your explanation is satisfactory, President. But are you not mistaken about me having been unconscious?”
“In a certain sense, madam, you were,” replied the Governor.
“But, youremember, do you not, Mrs. Grange,—Aunty Inez?” asked the child.
Mrs. Grange sprang to her feet. “Have I been living a dream all of my past life, or am I now dreaming?”
“Neither, dear madam,” replied the great scientist, Guillermo Gonzales; “neither, madam. You are simply confused with the remembrances of two lives.”
In an abstracted manner she took the hands of Catalina Martinet in her own, and gazing intently into her face for a moment, said: “It is the same child. The other life is plain to me now. Am I to be punished? I did ill-treat her then; I did. But spare me, spare me!” She pleadingly called out to some invisible person.Turning her face away from the child, she looked straight into the laughing face of Marriet Motuble, who said:
“I thought it would come, Sister Grange. In fact, I knew it would come.”
“Such torture,” she cried, turning from first one to the other, “such torture; save me, save me!”
“We cannot do that, dear madam; we have no such power. You need have no fear. It is the awakening of your soul, and only good can be the final result,” said the Governor.
“Your words only harrass me. There are so many here to chide me for my unjust treatment of the child there, in that other life.” Spying a new face close by, she fairly screamed: “What, you here?”
Everybody turned to see who it was that caused the half crazy woman—crazy with guilt—to cry out so, when a queenly young woman stepped forward and said:
“I certainly am sorry my presence has created such an uproar. Ladies and gentlemen, I now apologize.”
“Have you ever met the woman?” asked the President.
“Not in this life, your Honor.”
“She remembers me, though,” said Mrs. Grange, “and I her.”
“If that be true,” said the Governor, “present me, dear madam. I have not the honor of her acquaintance.”
As Mrs. Grange sank into a chair she put her hands over her eyes, as if to hide from view of every one, and said: “Your Honor, the lady was Helen Hinckley, inthat time long past,” then sank into her former state of unconsciousness.
Helen Hinckley, with a pleasing smile, advanced with outstretched hands to the Governor, and in her charming voice, said: “By which name I have the pleasure to present myself to your Honor now.”
The Governor took her two beautiful hands into his own, and as he looked into her open countenance, and beautiful eyes, he realized that at last he had met his fate.