CHAPTER XXIINEW ARRIVALS
The soft and balsam-scented air of summer fluttered the white curtains of Alice Cramer’s house as she sat before the open doorway awaiting, with no little anxiety, the arrival of her fashionable sister-in-law from San Francisco.
And when her practised eye saw the carriage, a mere speck against the sky, coming across the prairie, her heart throbbed with the dread of meeting and she looked about her mean little apartments with a sense of embarrassment. What had come over her, that she should have lost the self-possession and ease of manner inherent in her, and become timid and awkward as the most illiterate of her neighbors?
“I have been so long out of the world I am no longer myself,� she murmured, “and yet—and yet it is not wholly that. I seem to be living in a state of chronic fear. If only her coming will free me from those other visitors.�
With a choking sensation in her throat, and trembling in her limbs, she arose as the carriage turned from the highway toward the house. She took in with a glance the blonde-haired, blue-eyed sister, the curled, elaborately-dressed child, and then her eyes rested upon the most beautiful face she had ever seen, it seemed to her. A face so commanding andbright, so impellingly attractive, she gazed at it in joyous wonder.
Mark lifted them down from the carriage, one by one, and presented them to her, and the tears started in her eyes as Elinor kissed her fondly, called her sister Alice, and appeared to overlook the shabby apartments which had so distressed the housewife a few minutes before.
The little boy bounded and capered in the joy of freedom as he looked at the boundless prairie, and Tibby Waring’s eyes glowed with tender moistness as she feasted upon the beauty of the expanse before her.
“Oh, Mrs. Wylie, how lovely it is to breathe freely again,� she murmured as, after removing her wraps with the dust and stain of travel, she stood, later in the day, outside the cabin door and watched the red sun touch the prairie’s distant rim.
“Yes, Tibby, you will be a child again with all these country wilds about you. You will have chickens, cows, and horses to your heart’s content. Mark, do you remember how we youngsters used to go out to grandpa’s?�
“Indeed I do. I remember how you tried to walk a log across Willow brook and fell in.�
“And I remember when grandpa whipped you for taking eggs from under his sitting hen.�
“Because a little girl about your size—you haven’t grown much—told me to do it.�
“Yes, and I ran and hid in the dry-house and fell asleep there. What a time they had finding me.� And Elinor laughed at the recollection.
“’Twas old Tige that found you. We never could understand how he opened the dry-house door,� responded Mark.
“Ah, those happy, happy days,� sighed Elinor. “Look yonder, Tibby, what a lovely group of ponies.�
“They are coming this way. May I go to meet them, Mr. Cramer?� And Tibby, with Robbie at her heels, swiftly went across the crisp, dry turf toward the approaching horses.
“Is it safe for her, Mark?� asked Elinor, looking anxiously after her protege.
“Yes, come on, we will follow them.�
“How lovely they are, Mr. Cramer. Are they all gentle? May I go near them?� asked Tibby as the twain approached her.
“If you are not afraid, select one for your own use,� Mark replied.
Tibby went nearer and surveyed them for a moment.
“I like that roan the best, though he looks a trifle wicked,� she said, pointing to one a little distance from the herd.
“Ah, that is Tempest. He is a little wild. Better choose again.�
The horse lifted his ears and struck the ground with his fore-foot challengingly, as Tibby slowly went toward him. Mark expected to hear him snort viciously and take to his heels as she neared him, but to his surprise the horse kept his position.
Then, as Tibby spoke to him, he backed a little, and again struck the ground with his foot.
“Soh! Good fellow, good fellow! Come here!� Tibby paused, and holding out her hand beckoned the animal toward her. Then they stood looking at one another steadily. Finally the roan took a few steps forward, striking the ground, and seeming to question her right to command him.
“Come here, I tell you!� said Tibby imperiously, again, and to the surprise of all the horse once more took a few steps nearer her. Haltingly it walked toward her, nearer, its eyes fixed on the girl and her outstretched hand. A few more steps and it was within reach, and Tibby’s hand was upon its nose and she had conquered.
“Well, I’m astonished at that!� exclaimed Mark. “He’s the Devil’s own, usually. He must have an eye for beauty, the rascal.�
Tibby stood and stroked the animal’s nose, whispering to him as she did so, and feeding him grass which she pulled from the ground.
“You are not afraid, Tempest. You must always come when I call you. Soh! Good Tempest; come, sir, come! I’ll show you to the mistress.� And Tibby turned toward the house, the horse following the hand touching his nose.
“Why, if that girl ain’t leading Tempest!� Alice exclaimed. “He’s the wildest colt of the lot. Even Mark hasn’t been able to do much with him, he’s so vixenish. And without a bridle! How did she manage it?�
“She can manage almost anything,� laughed Mrs. Wylie. “I sometimes think she manages all of us. I don’t know how we should get along without her.�
“Where did you find her?�
“In a country place not far from Forest City. I took her for a nurse girl for Robbie, but as I wrote you, I’ve made a companion and daughter of her. She is invaluable in any capacity. The only trouble I have is keeping the young men from running off with her. She attracts a great deal of attention wherever we are stopping, and woe be it to any young woman who purposely ignores her. She makes her a wall-flower from that time on, and draws away every young man who would pay the offending one any attention.�
“But how can she do it? Of course she is remarkably handsome, but that does not always—�
“The goodness knows! It’s her own secret. Sometimes I think it is her compelling eyes that bring every one to her upon whom she casts them. Haven’t you noticed that quality in them?�
“They are wonderfully bright, and—electrical,� replied Alice.
“Electrical? Yes, that is the word. Aren’t they? I can sound Tibby’s praises by day and night. One feels them ever when not looking at her.�
“Well,� said Mrs. Cramer, “we have very few young men here. None of much account, except Donald Bartram. He is nice, and entirely eligible, so you need not fear him. The girl is remarkably attractive.�
Tibby Waring had indeed become an important element in Mr. Wylie’s household. Every one liked her, from Robbie, who was restless and uneasy inher absence, to Grandma Wylie, who, when she made her annual visits, insisted that Tibby was better than a doctor to relieve her aches and rheumatic pains. And Mr. and Mrs. Wylie found need of her on all occasions.
From the position of servant she had become a daughter of the house. Her ready wit and imperturbably good humor made her a welcome adjunct in the parlor, and if some of Mrs. Wylie’s society friends sneered and complained of her when by themselves for her presumption in forcing an unknown girl upon them, they were careful not to shadow forth any dislike in her presence. Latterly, when traveling, Mrs. Wylie had introduced her as a foster-daughter, and thus Tibby was saved any affronts.
Alice Cramer was never weary of watching both Tibby and her sister-in-law and feasting upon the brightness and freshness of their apparel, with the many little accessories of fashion which, of late, were unknown to her. And Mrs. Wylie herself was like a wild bird set at liberty. She sang and rode with Tibby and Mark over the plains, her fluffy blonde hair blowing in the wind, and her pink and white complexion, which no wind could mar, only took on a richer tinge, more healthful and attractive. But she became alarmed at the peculiarities which she observed in Alice.
One day, while galloping over the soft turf, she questioned her brother.
“Mark, is Alice entirely sane?�
“Sane, Nellie! What do you mean?�
“Why, she acts so strangely at times. She sits and looks back over her shoulder in such a startled way, and early this morning, after you had gone out, I heard some one cry out in her room and I ran in there to see what was the matter. She was sitting up in bed and brushing the wall about her with a broom. Her face was red, her eyes bright, and she kept saying, ‘Get away with you, you little imps!’
“‘Why, Alice,’ I cried, ‘what ails you?’ She dropped her broom and looked embarrassed when she saw me, and said imploringly, ‘I can’t help it, Nellie! Don’t blame me, I can see such horrible crawling things on the walls. There are all manner of creatures, some on two legs and some on four or more, and they grin and chatter in such a fiendish way I have to fight them.’ And she began to sob. I told her it was only her imagination from disordered nerves, and she ought to have a doctor. But she assured me she was well, physically. One can see, however, from her thinness and pallor that such is not the case.�
Mark’s face grew dark and he shut his teeth hard.
“Nellie, it all comes from the evil machinations of one man who has been coming here to the house; a spirit-medium, he calls himself, but I imagine him an agent for Satan. He holds seances, and has given Alice books to read until she is filled with his theories. She has been alone too much since mother went home, and has become melancholy and nervous. I am very glad you are with us. Try to keep her cheerful and her mind off those things as much as possible. I need help.�
Mrs. Wylie sighed.
“Ah, I know what it is, Mark. Horace has been interested in this subject, and I have seen more of it than I enjoy. Horace’s sister in Oakland is a believer and gives up her house to seances and meetings of that sort.�
“Indeed, I am surprised that so solid a man as Mr. Wylie should give ear to such nonsense.�
“But, Mark, you can’t say it is all nonsense. There are very many bright people who believe in it, though they are perhaps the exceptions; but there is certainly something supernatural about it.�
“No, Nellie, I do not think it is supernatural. It is only because we do not understand Nature’s laws and forces that we thus designate the phenomena produced. I really believe the time will come when every phenomenon adduced will be explained from natural hypothesis. Much of it can be now. I am not sure but all of it can.�
“I have a friend, Mark, a very sweet young woman, who I am sure would not stoop to deceit, who can do many wonderful things. She can write messages from the spirit world, is clairvoyant, and can, if an article is placed in her hand, describe the owner, his surroundings, etc. I have recently heard that she has developed as a materializing medium.�
“But, my dear, she may be ever so honest and be self-deceived. Those things do not prove the agency of any disembodied spirit. We all have more or less of the psychometric power, no doubt, which, although we cannot account for it, is no more wonderful than the electric current and many other forcesof Nature. There certainly seems to be a force which connects individuals and forms a medium for thought transference. The Hindoos understand this much better than we do, hence the mysteries of their conjuring tricks. They must make use of this psychic force of which we are but dimly conscious. Possibly we may, in the future, learn to control it as we do now the lightning. But there is no spirit agency in it.�
“The most mysterious to me is the slate-writing,� said Mrs. Wylie. “My friend does that also. I have seen instances where there seemed to be absolutely no opportunities for fraud.�
“We may have belief in the power of mind over matter. I have thought much over this and am willing to admit that the spirit of man may even act upon matter to produce this slate-writing, but I believe it is the medium’s spirit rather than any other. If the disembodied spirit is supposed to do this, why not the spirit or intelligence of the medium also? All things considered, I prefer to believe the medium responsible. Of course, in many cases it is probably only a trick or sleight of hand, in substituting one slate for another; but I think I have seen cases myself where such explanation could not be given.
“But this hypnotic force which can make a subject do, believe, assume personalities and see whatever is suggested to him is a wonderful force and I know not what its limits are. It may account for the supposed slate-writing. The Oriental can produce phenomena beyond anything known here, and yet, as I understand, he does not pretend that his powercomes from the spirits of departed friends. As for mind over matter, the planchette is certainly governed by the intelligence of the operator or manipulator.�
“If,� said Mrs. Wylie, “one mind may influence another, now annihilating time and space, why may not the mind or spirit of the dead so act after it is separated from the body?�
“I do not deny that such a thing is possible. I am not prepared to state absolutely that such things are impossible, but I have never had any proof sufficient to convince me that they were at allprobable, and I don’t believe that spirits have anything to do with all this table rapping, etc., which really amounts to nothing. You will find that all written answers to questions, even in slate-writing, tell only that which is known to some one in the room. If a question is asked which demands an unknown answer the so-called spirit either refuses to speak or the answer is so ambiguous as to admit of several interpretations. Really I have never seen one such communication that even stated a fact clearly. They usually deal in generalities.�
“That is true. I’ve often told Horace that they could get along all right until some question was asked which the mind-reader could not find out about, and then they fail. I have heard that only inferior spirits are capable of producing psychical phenomena.�
“So we have the Indian children and big medicine-men to instruct us so much. Strange that people should pin their faith to the utterances of spirits ofthose with whom they would not associate were they living upon earth.�
“After all, it’s the making a religion of it that I object to,� said Mrs. Wylie, “and letting these communications, wherever evolved, control one’s morals and living.�
“Did you ever know a person made better by giving up his religion and substituting spiritism?�
“No, that is it. I have often told Horace that the doctrine tended to demoralization; but he will not listen to me. Of course there is much that is wrong in the followers of any religion, but this seems especially lowering in its tendency, so far as I have observed.�
“Well, you can see what it has done for my poor Alice. And her sister Lissa is nearly insane from it. It will unbalance the mind if not the moral nature.�
“I suspect you will not be willing to go and hear Mrs. Lucien when she comes to C—— upon her Western tour. I care nothing for the exhibition in itself, but am a little anxious to know how she has developed. I have not seen her since she first began to try her mystic powers, as we went to the Pacific coast soon afterwards.�
“O, yes, I am willing to see your friend. I am not so intolerant as that. She may, as I said, be sincere and self-deceived. Such a condition might be possible. However, it is quite as likely you are deceived in her. By the way, you have a remarkable maid—this Tibby. She is extremely pretty and has wonderful eyes.
“Ah, you are stricken with a shaft from thoseeyes. I don’t wonder at it. Tibby has been with me ever since she was fourteen, and I have heard that remark over and over again from each one to whom I have introduced her.�
“I could believe she practises hypnotism, though perhaps unconsciously.�
“Ah, I have frequently suggested as much to Horace, but he says it is her beauty. She certainly can do what she wishes with any one. The young men at the summer hotels where we stop swarm about her like bees about a honey jar, but she does not seem to care for them. Sometimes she plays the most absurd tricks upon them. One evening, when we were at the Metropolitan, a young man called whom I had especially recommended to Tibby. I left them in the parlor and stepped out upon the veranda. Shortly, Miss Tibby followed me, her eyes dancing with mischief. ‘Where is Mr. Bevington,’ I asked. ‘In the parlor, asleep,’ she said demurely. I went in, and sure enough, there the fellow sat in an easy chair, sound asleep, his jaw dropped, and looking anything but picturesque and charming. Tibby stood by me, looking wickedly at him.
“‘There, you see how gentlemanly your fine young man is,’ she said. ‘I must be interesting company. Don’t you pity me? Shall I cover him with a shawl and let him sleep?’ I shook my head at her. ‘Better waken him.’
“‘Mr. Bevington, we’ll excuse you if you would rather sleep at home,’ she said. I wish you could have witnessed his confusion when he awoke, as he did immediately upon Tibby’s addressing him. Ireally pitied the poor fellow. He muttered, of course, something about late hours, etc., but I am satisfied Tibby had something to do with his sleeping. She has, when she chooses, a very soothing influence over one.�
“So I perceive. I saw an instance of her mesmeric power yesterday. She wanted to go and ride upon Tempest (by the way, there is a proof of her strength. Tempest was the worst horse on the ranch) and Robbie insisted upon her staying with him. She sat down upon the horse-block and looked at the child until he came to her as if she had been leading him by a rope.
“‘I think you may as well sleep while I am gone,’ she said, ‘to keep you out of mischief.’ To my surprise the little fellow dropped down by the side of the block and appeared to be asleep in a minute. He slept until she returned from her ride, when she awakened him, and they both came in together.�
“You don’t think there is any harm in it? It will not hurt Robbie?� asked Mrs. Wylie anxiously. “I have learned to rely upon her so completely.�
“Perhaps not, though I have heard that it weakens the will to be frequently mesmerized. But we’ll hope she does not abuse her power.�
“Really, Mark, I believe I obey Tibby myself. We have never disagreed upon anything yet, that I did not yield, I am sure. And when I have a headache she can sooth it away with her touch.�
“Tibby has a very positive character. I fancy Donald is interested in her already.�
“Donald! Why, I thought they told me he was fond of Esther McCleary.�
Mark smiled.
“I do not know—possibly. Meanwhile, have I your permission to talk with your protege on the subject of mesmeric influences?�
“Most assuredly, or upon any other subject. But really, Mark, isn’t there something uncanny about a person possessed of such power?�
Again Mark smiled.
“You are possessed of the intolerance of our forefathers. You would not suffer a witch to live.�
“Well, it does seem as if such a person had a familiar spirit. We are commanded to abhor such, and in olden time they were put to death, it is true.�
“I do not class hypnotists with spirit-mediums,� Mark replied. “And I have an idea with regard to Tibby which may be useful. She should be able to exorcise other evil influences, as did the priests of old. I’d like to pit her against Russell.�
“Russell? O, yes, he’s the man to whom you ascribe Alice’s perversion of mind. Well, I wish she might be able to. I wish she might.�