"Enough. There is not the slightest resemblance between a man's heart and a flower, though she does seem to think so. I told you Merle was sick, and you professed to be sorry, as you said you thought him to be an unusually fine young man."

"I meant it. He is, next to yourself, the best man I ever saw."

"What do you suppose caused his illness?"

"How could I know?"

"Your idol of admiration and worship--Clarissa."

"No, it cannot be so. She would not make an insect to suffer. I remember--"

"I do not care to hear remembrances. He told me so himself. He had been her lover at one time, and the knowledge he was only one of several ruined his life. He had not seen her for some time, but, coming suddenly into her presence, being weak from long entrancement, he received such a shock he has been weak and feverish ever since. The same old story, you see!"

"I do not think Merle would lie, Professor, but I cannot believe Clarissa would willingly ruin any man's life. Everything seems to be tending to a more dense darkness. When she comes, I will take her the bunch of flowers I have raised for her, and tell her how perplexed I am.

She will explain. She always told the truth, no matter what she did."

"How she must have changed since childhood."

"Do not laugh like that."

"That was a droll remark. She always told the truth, no matter what she did.--Well, time is flying. She will soon be here. Which are you going to be loyal to, her or me? You have not much time to decide. That is her fault, not mine. If you conclude to remain in my service, you must make a quick decision, as I shall insist upon both you and your wife's shutting yourselves up in your own apartments while she is here, that she may neither see you nor know you are here."

"Not even see her? Not one glance?"

"No. Not and remain in my service; furthermore, your wife must not even know she is coming. I do not trust women. She might promise secrecy, but would yield to the temptation to look at her, to see how she had changed. While she was looking, the famous Miss Earle would see her, and then such a scene would follow as I don't wish Baxter and Harrington to see. What are you looking at me like that for?"

"You do not mean that Miss Earle, the great singer, is Clarissa?"

"None other, James. Time makes many changes. But quick,--you must choose."

"I never did, nor never will condemn or believe anything against her."

"Then you decide to go to her? No doubt she will be glad to have you with her again."

"I did not say that. I said I trusted her, and I do. She had reasons I did not know, and probably never shall, for doing what she did. I shall serve you lovingly and faithfully as long as breath remains in my old body, unless you send me away. I had rather die than know that she was here though, and not hear the sound of her sweet voice, or feel the touch of her soft, white hands, but I will follow your directions, and so shall Nancy. I will keep her working. May I ask just one question?"

"I have never refused to answer you, have I?"

"Shall you mesmerize her? If you do, may I not take just one look at her? She will not know it."

"I shall have nothing to do with her."

"But, master, everyone says you have wonderful power. I do not understand it. Couldn't you mesmerize her and find out why she left us?"

"Nonsense. I know well enough."

"If you wanted to do so, could you make her tell you in that way?

"Yes."

"Then why do you not do it?"

"It is not worth the trouble. I want to thank you for your loyalty to me. You will never be the loser, James. I trust you to keep both yourself and your wife from sight while she is here. To reward you, I will tell you the princ.i.p.al account she gives of herself during the interview, after she has gone. I am done with you now. Do not look so solemn, James; your part is far easier than mine."

"If you should mesmerize her, may I see her?"

"I can easily promise you that--"

"I will put those flowers in the library, under your picture, just where she loved to see them. She will know she isn't forgotten here. When you want me, tell Robert to come to my private room. Nancy and I will be there.--I was only saying to send Robert to my room when you wanted me, as Nancy and I would be there."

As the door closed, William threw himself into the nearest chair, repeating James's words "rather die than know she was here and not hear the sound of her sweet voice, or feel the touch of her soft, white hands." His lips closed firmer and firmer together, as he felt how much easier it was not to see her than to meet her as he must; as a stranger; calm and collected, while his whole being was swaying with emotions so varied and conflicting; he could not separate nor enumerate them himself.

Of all the bitter lessons life had furnished him, this was certainly the bitterest. Then came the thought, "I must control my thoughts. I will be brave and calm--apparently satisfied and happy with my lot in life. If she has the heartlessness to seek me, she shall witness no ravages her perfidy has made upon me. She shall not gloat over my misery. I will dress now. I will show her that there is at least one man who can resist the witchery of her presence, despite her fame."

CHAPTER SEVEN

When William had dressed, and entered his library to attend to the writing which the day's excitement had caused him to neglect, not even the most careful observer of human nature could have discovered signs of a disturbed mind in either his face or his bearing. He seated himself, and immediately began to critically examine the papers which awaited his attention, and before the bell announcing the arrival of his guests rang, he had done quite an amount of work.

He arose at once, and went to the reception hall to greet them. There was not the least perceptible tremor in his voice when he bade them welcome, and acknowledged the introduction to the lady who came with Dr.

Baxter.

After the usual salutations were over, he invited them into the adjoining room, and Dr. Baxter said,--

"You see we were right on time, Huskins. One of my pet foibles, you know, is punctuality. Miss Earle, unlike most of her s.e.x, was promptness itself, waiting for me, instead of keeping me waiting for her.

Harrington sent his regards, as he was unable to join us. He was suddenly called from town, to be gone several days. I hope I will not prove 'de trop' at this interview; if so, however, consider me yours to direct. I will go into another room, and remain until you have finished.

Miss Earle, you look very pale, and you are trembling violently. You are nervous. There is no occasion for fearing Huskins; he is a royal good fellow. Most women are nervous toward him. Eh, Huskins?"

Miss Earle spoke up quickly. Her voice was calm, though she trembled visibly. "I have no fear of Prof. Huskins. Far from it; but I am troubled considerably with this most distressing form of nervousness. I shall soon recover."

"You work harder than you should, perhaps. It is no uncommon thing for women, and sometimes men, to be seized with a sort of vertigo when they first meet Huskins. They seem to feel that he has some mysterious power; their doubts and fears temporarily control them. You will feel more at ease after you have talked with him a while. His power is just the thing to remove your nervousness. It was wisdom upon your part that prompted you to come to him to be mesmerized. Medicine could not do what he can for you. Would you feel freer to talk if I were to leave the room?"

"You will please me best by remaining here. Both of you gentlemen have doubtless heard, and probably believe, that women are but living types of contradiction and inconsistency. I shall be to you but another proof of the adage. Yesterday, I had but one absorbing thought--to be mesmerized; and I naturally desired to be taken to the most renowned exponent and operator. My exorbitant wish granted, my enthusiasm, strange to state, entirely vanished. I am very sorry that any whim of mine has discommoded you whose time is so valuable."

"Not at all, Miss Earle, it has afforded me great pleasure to be of service to you, and Huskins has any quant.i.ty of time at his disposal. He only works when he feels like it. I am sure your enthusiasm only failed you because you are uncertain of the sensation accompanying the trance condition. It is not unpleasant. I know that you would be a good 'subject' and could be put to sleep easily. Am I not right, Huskins?"

"Miss Earle has a temperament very susceptible to magnetic influence, and would experience no unpleasant sensations while pa.s.sing to sleep. I am sure I could remove the nervous disorder."

"I appreciate your kindly interest in me, gentlemen, but all my desire for personal experience with magnetic sleep has gone, never to return: I feel now. It may seem strange to you,--I came to you, to two strangers, for such an experiment, without bringing with me an attendant, or obtaining your services through the intervention of mutual acquaintances. The reason for my singular action was, I wanted no one to know about it. Your reputations were both such I knew you to be gentlemen. Really, I did not pause to think how it would look. It seemed to me as though I was going to a physician. It is quite proper to go there unattended."

"Such an apology is unnecessary. Do not allow such a trifling obstacle to interfere with the accomplishment of your wish, for Huskins'

housekeeper is a venerable and estimable woman. She often a.s.sists him.

She is a woman you would trust as a mother. You may never have such an opportunity again, for I had considerable work to gain the Professor's consent to mesmerize you. I imagine, however, your remarkable singing last night had more to do with it, after all, than any persuasion on my part. Who could refuse anything to the possessor of so matchless a voice?"