CHAPTER XXIIITHE COUNTERPLOT
Mark sought a convenient opportunity to interview Tibby. He found the girl one morning pacing slowly up and down the pathway leading to the horses’ corral, her riding-whip in her hand and riding-skirt upon her arm. She was smiling softly to herself and flipping the tops of the tall balsam weeds with her whip as she passed them. She looked up, a startled, challenging look in her large eyes as he approached her.
“Well, Miss Tibby, what new mischief are you hatching to-day?� Mark asked as he joined her.
“None, I assure you. I was only thinking how I would like to see a prairie on fire.�
“I trust the wish has not been father to the act. You haven’t set a match to it?�
“O, no! I haven’t yet looked up a convenient hiding-place for myself. And then I don’t believe I’m quite so bad as Nero. My desire to see a burning Rome is not strong enough to make me set it on fire.�
“Indeed? You reassure me!�
“As if that were necessary.�
“You haven’t told me what you really think of us here, Miss Tibby.�
“I think it is lovely here; you have so much breathing space.�
“Is that all we are supposed to do—breathe?�
“There doesn’t seem to be a chance for much else. Now does that sound impolite? I don’t mean it so.� Tibby flicked the toe of her boot with her whip, and drew in one of the deep corners of her mouth as if she had said something she ought not to.
“Not in the least impolite. It’s a fact. We may exist here, not much else.�
“But I didn’t mean that. I like it here very much. But one is so free from restraint, breathing seems the easiest and about the only necessary thing to do.�
“You were country born?�
“Yes, and I remember it seemed there as if I was repressed and confined and I looked yearningly out into the greater liberty of the world. Think of it! From the freedom of country I longed for liberty.�
“And now?� Mark questioned.
“And now I am not tired of the other life. O, no. I enjoy it truly, only I think part of the people one meets in society life are often very silly and flat, as—as—� she hesitated for a comparison, then gave the familiar one of her childhood,—“as dishwater.�
“Isn’t that the trouble with a part of the people everywhere? After all, it’s a great thing to be to the manner born,� said Mark, setting his large hat farther back upon his head, and looking the bright sun in the face.
“Ain’t it? There is an ease, a consciousness of power, a—a something which the very rich have which one may covet. Perhaps it is the consciousness of always being well-dressed. I think that was what I used to covet. As to birth, I had nothing toenvy in any of them. My mother was a Devereaux, my great uncle an earl.� Tibby lifted her chin with conscious pride. Mark saw that the girl was still smarting from affronts received when she was only Mrs. Wylie’s servant.
“Even in this democratic America we still are proud of what we please to call blue blood, are we? Well, it may be foolish, but I reckon it won’t hurt us,� said Mark. “I hope many of us are better men than our ancestors of feudal times, however. Our women are certainly more intelligent, if we may believe history.�
“Yes?� Tibby was looking out into the expanse dreamily, her eyes narrowed and yellow in the sunlight.
“What do you call the restraints of society life?� questioned Mark suddenly.
“The necessity of putting on war paint and feathers. The necessity of hiding behind a mask of conventionality and pleasant phrases, of fine clothes and fine speeches. I enjoy it immensely—immensely.� Tibby shut her lips tightly to emphasize her words. “But after all, it is artificial, and the only fun is seeing through it all. It’s really more fun to be a spectator than an actor in a comedy. The actors see all the tinsel and making up.�
“But you have been an actor?�
“Yes, in the minor roles.�
“Tibby, Mrs. Wylie tells me you sometimes see people you do not like and have a way of punishing them.�
“Yes,� said Tibby meekly; “sometimes.�
“Miss Tibby, haven’t we walked about enough? Let us sit down upon this roller. I want to talk to you. You conquered Tempest very easily. I believe you have uncommon power,� he continued, as Tibby sat down and began to fan her face with her riding-hat.
“Do you think so?� Tibby’s voice was mockingly suggestive.
“Yes, I am convinced of it. And I have been waiting for an opportunity to ask how long you have known and used this power.�
Tibby looked keenly at Mark.
“I am not sure I understand you. To what power do you refer?�
“The power to make every person or beast yield to your will. You are a hypnotist, Miss Waring, and an uncommonly powerful one.�
The girl looked up eagerly.
“Do you really think so, Mr. Cramer? I have wondered myself if that might not be the case. I know—have known for a long time—that if I really willed any one to do a thing, he was quite apt to do it. When I was a little girl I used to sit in church and make people turn and look at me—it was the only way I could amuse myself through those long sermons which my stepmother made me listen to every Sunday; and sometimes I have made people stumble, or even fall, just for fun or to punish them. I know it wasn’t a praiseworthy amusement, but—� Tibby hesitated.
“You can put Robbie to sleep.�
She nodded. “How did you know?�
“I have been watching you.�
“You don’t think there is any harm in it?� she questioned in a troubled voice.
“Perhaps not, yet I do not think I would exercise my power in that way. It might weaken the lad’s will. I am sure you would not willingly do him harm.�
“Oh, no, indeed! I never mean to do any one any harm. I have sometimes played jokes on the dudes at the hotels, or occasionally punished some one, as Mrs. Wylie told you.�
“There is a person whom I wish you would punish, if it be in your power.�
“And that is—?�
“Professor Russell. You know who he is, and what he has done. If he comes here again, use all the power you possess to get control of that man.�
“What shall do with him if I can hypnotize him?�
“Anything. Show him up for what he is. And above everything, break his power or influence over others.�
“You may be sure I will. Mrs. Wylie has been telling me of him, and that he is responsible for Mrs. Cramer’s nervous condition.�
“Yes, and for a hundred other offenses, large and small. Lissa Bartram is nearly insane over his accursed delusions. By the way, can you not suggest a different train of thought for her? She sits brooding over her sorrow, and trying to recall the spirit of her child. You know the hypnotist can get controlof the mind and govern the current of thought by suggestion. Can you not turn her morbid fancies into dreams of hope and brightness? Ah, Miss Tibby, if you can bring relief to that darkened spirit you will be an angel of light!�
“Mr. Cramer, I will try. I wish I understood better just how to use the power I have. I know I have it—but sometimes I forget and fail to make people do as I wish. But I am interested in Mrs. Bartram, and will do what I can.�
“Come, let us walk over there now,� said Mark. “The others are occupied with themselves.�
“All right. I’ll leave my riding accoutrements here, and we will go. I wonder, Mr. Cramer, if this power comes from a strong will.�
“Are you strong-willed?�
“Ah, you answer my question in the Yankee fashion. I suppose I am. My stepmother used to call me ‘that self-willed, headstrong girl,’ because I could coax papa to let me have my own way sometimes. And when I was right, why should I not have it?� The uptilted chin rose higher.
“It is usually woman’s way,� Mark replied.
“The right way is. I agree with you.�
Tibby walked forward with the free, upspringing step of perfect health and high spirits.
“Mr. Cramer, you have not answered my question. What is this power of hypnotic control?�
“You should know better than I, Miss Waring. So far as I understand it, it is the controlling of one person’s will and senses by another, the subject passively submitting to it. I cannot imagine your hypnotizingme, for I am naturally very positive myself. You might do so if I were off my guard. Neither have I your power over others. Why, is not clear to me.�
“I made you ask a question for me a couple of days ago,� Tibby confessed, laughing.
“When?� Mark looked surprised.
“It was when you and Mrs. McCleary were talking together, and I wanted to hear her tell about the planchette. So I told you to ask her—that is,willedyou to. And immediately you turned around and said, ‘Well, how does Mr. McCleary get on with his planchette?’�
Mark laughed.
“I remember I was sorry for starting her off upon her hobby, and was provoked at myself for asking afterwards,� he said. “But here we are at Nathan’s. I’ll take you in and then I’ll leave you to entertain Lissa in your own way.�
They found her sitting listlessly by her low window, her hands folded in her lap, her sad, dark-rimmed eyes full of unshed tears.
“I have brought Miss Waring over to keep you company for a while,� Mark said brightly. “I think you’ll get along well together without me, so I’ll run back to Alice. How are you feeling? Better?�
Lissa arose and came forward to meet them with extended hands, then her eyes followed Tibby’s about the disordered room. A flush of color came faintly into her cheeks.
“I—am about as usual, thank you,� she said to Mark, then apologetically to Tibby: “Neoka hasneglected the work to-day. She wanted a holiday and I let her off, and have not attended to it myself.�
“Are you not well, Mrs. Bartram?� asked Tibby.
“No—that is, I am better than I was,� she stammered, looking at Tibby in an embarrassed way.
“You ought to be out in this lovely sunshine. Don’t you think so, Mr. Cramer?�
“Yes, indeed. There’s life and health in every gleam, thanksgiving to the sun,� misquoted Mark, and he touched his hat and turned away.
“I have a headache,� began Lissa.
“Which I can rid you of in short order,� cried Tibby. “Did Mrs. Wylie never tell you what a good doctor I am? I can always cure her headaches in a moment. May I try upon you?�
Mrs. Bartram signified her assent, and Tibby stepped to her side and began to rub her head, talking the while in her low, rich tones.
“You are to stop thinking about anything and let your head rest easily against the back of the chair. I will take the pain here and carry it away on the ends of my fingers—so. Ah, you are beginning to feel better already. The pain is going, now almost gone—now it is gone. Isn’t it? I do not think it will trouble you any more.�
Lissa smiled. “It has gone,� she murmured.
“Ah, that is lovely. Now we will go and walk. It will complete my cure. Shall we go down by the river and gather plums?�
Lissa assented, and Tibby noticed the brighter look that already animated her face.
When, three hours later, the twain came back tothe house, their arms filled with wild flowers and plants, Lissa’s dark eyes were shining with a new interest, and the dawn of a brighter life had shone upon the darkened, despairing soul of Nathan’s wife.