"He knew my condition when I left him, and he has never tried to find trace of my child, nor whether we both died; still I am weak enough to yield to the magic influence of his presence. Such a weakness shall not be repeated. By all the powers of my soul I defy it. I am Augustus' only natural protector, and my love shall be the insurmountable barrier that shall separate him from his father.

"At the time when my very life blood seemed to stop, there came a piercing cry that stirred the depths of my soul. Since that time, I have known but one object in life--one only ambition and interest:--to be famous for my darling's sake. If I could only purchase by suffering his bodily freedom of action, I would endure the fiercest torture without a murmur. It would be impossible to endure more excruciating agony than I have experienced this day. Why was I, an innocent victim from the beginning, compelled to encounter the humiliation of going to William's house?

"I had almost rather that my darling Augustus, my heart's idol, remained a hopeless invalid than have him rescued by his father's power. His cruelty made Augustus a cripple, and me a hopeless and despairing woman.

That power which has been our scourge, can never be our hope of release.

Better the hatred of our crudest enemy than the influence of William's love in our lives.

"I will leave this city. I cannot breathe the same atmosphere I know is feeding him and live. I bid every idol but the image of my boy to depart from my soul. I will go where he is; there I shall find peace and happiness. How sharp love's eyes are! I must calm myself; I will be cheerful and happy; otherwise, Augustus will note the difference, and ask the cause.

"Never was a mother blessed with so n.o.ble a son as mine. I will be his protector though the legions of ignorance and evil conspire against him and me. Nothing can daunt my love. I will calm myself for your sake, Augustus. Mother will come to you, and we will be happy despite your father's influence. I feel it now. I will, Augustus, break this annoying sensation."

Saying this, she arose with a visible effort, apparently suffering from great la.s.situde, and went into an adjoining apartment to write her son, where we will leave her while we follow the movements of William.

CHAPTER NINE

Before William left his home after the interview, there came a hurried messenger from Merle, asking his immediate presence, as there was a decided change for the worse in his condition. William knew such tidings must mean a serious state of affairs, as in all the time he had been using Merle as a subject, he had never before been summoned by his people. On the contrary, Merle had improved physically ever since he had been controlling him.

He hastened to Mrs. Millard's house as quickly as possible, trying to keep Merle in his mind as manifesting strength, health and calmness, yet, when he arrived, Mrs. Millard, who had been eagerly awaiting him, let him in, he saw by the expression of her countenance, which was clearly dejected, that his thought waves had thus far been futile.

Despite his own anguish and torture of mind, there arose the spectacle of what a blow it would be to science, if he, one of its advocates and acknowledged experimentors, should allow his princ.i.p.al subject to sicken and possibly die. He tried to the utmost of his will to focus his mind upon the thought, "Merle shall and is manifesting health."

How many times, when other men's minds had failed and their courage had flagged and waned, had his shone forth like a bright and radiant light, illumining the darkness and bringing out congenial conditions. Somehow he did not seem to really know himself. He no longer felt secure or sure of anything, still he greeted Mrs. Millard with words of encouragement, and asked to be shown immediately into Merle's presence.

Arriving there, he was astonished to note how weak and feverish Merle was. Even his presence did not seem to awaken him or to especially attract his attention. He asked Mrs. Millard to leave them alone. He would have been loth to admit how long a time it took him to gain sufficient power to put Merle into a peaceful and refreshing sleep, but at length he accomplished it, and pa.s.sing out of that apartment, asked if Alice was willing to be mesmerized, while her mother went to watch by Merle's bedside.

In that house his word was law, and Alice was soon put into the trance condition. Her first utterances were all of Merle, but by gradual degrees her thoughts were directed into different channels. After several questions, she was able to tell William that he had had two callers, when he had expected three, and the visit of these two had been productive of disappointment instead of satisfaction. He could not find out from his questioning why such a condition existed.

He asked every variety of question he could think of, but, beyond what he already knew, he could get no enlightenment. This exasperated him greatly, for he was not in search of what he already knew, but striving to obtain information upon a point about which he was ignorant. Why had Miss Earle come to him?--That was the question he wanted answered, but all he could get from Alice was "She came to get help for him she loves."

Such a declaration, repeated over and over, by no means calmed William's troubled mind. Finally she said:

"Do not force me. I do not know whom she loves, but I know she loves someone better than you. Your power, which is strong enough to influence Merle and me, is not strong enough to penetrate through the other love, yet she loves you better than her life."

Realizing how futile it was to force her further, William bade her awaken, and, after looking in to see Merle again, and leaving such instructions as he thought it necessary to follow, left the house and walked toward his own home.

His thoughts traveled rapidly, and the expression of his eyes showed that anger or some kindred feeling was one of the most potent forces operative in his spirit at the time.

His thoughts ran something like this:--"She came to me to get help for him she loves.--She loves me better than her life, still there is one dearer yet.--My power is not strong enough to penetrate through this other love.--That remains to be proven; I think differently; I prophecy her idol will fall separate himself from her, and she be compelled to come to me for a.s.sistance. How she must love herself when she loves me more! Love! She does not know what love is, but she shall know, and shall suffer, even as she has made me suffer--and Merle. The boy is very ill, and is weakening instead of growing stronger. I had hard work to put him to sleep. His illness means the indefinite postponement of our scientific researches. I am in no condition to conduct them now even if Merle were well, so his illness does not really interfere with the matter. I shall know no rest, but devote my every energy and power to the bending and breaking of Clarissa's proud spirit. I will help her loved one. Oh, yes, I will help him--to grow weak and negative, and the very antipathy of her desires, and she shall come to me humbly, and sue for help. She will never again ask me to carry flowers to her past lovers. I swear it."

CHAPTER TEN

Six months have pa.s.sed since we last saw William. During that time a noticeable change has taken place in his appearance. He seems many years older, and his eyes appear incapable of expressing anything but sternness. In a way these changes add to his dignity in a manner not altogether pleasant to contemplate.

Since last we saw him, his time has been given to the task of controlling Clarissa's spirit, by silent thought suggestion, but so far he had been unable to bring her to him by their power. Having experimented so long and thoroughly with mesmeric power, he was able to distinguish at a single glance those persons who were sensitive to his influence, consequently knew her to be a sensitive of an unusually susceptible and refined order, and he naturally thought that by concentrating upon her with the entire strength of his will he would cause her to gravitate to his presence, drawn by an irresistible force, in a very short time, as many others had before.

There had been no lack of interest upon his part, as he had thrown into this work all the force and intensity of his power, but so far as he could see, there was no sign of Clarissa's yielding, and she made no movement to seek his presence.

Such a result was exasperating in the extreme, and humiliating to him.

Almost every day he had questioned either Merle or Alice, after putting them into a trance state, concerning her movements, but he only received the most vague and indefinite replies, not one of which was satisfactory. Alice had said several times that she would never come to him, and told him to go to her, but the idea seemed preposterous to him.

He go to her? No--she should come to him. This at first, but after a while he added "or send for him," and now, here he was in search of her.

It was easy to trace her movements, as her singing at any particular place was advertised in all directions. He kept in close touch with her movements, hoping to find a trace of the person whom she wished him to a.s.sist, but so far he had been unsuccessful in his search. The last reports he had had of her announced that she was in poor health as the result of overwork, which necessitated a complete rest from all public work.

He was not deceived by this report, as he knew his constant thought was affecting her nervous system and undermining her strength, and this was not wholly unpleasant knowledge. He made a sudden resolution to go to her. It was useless for her to resist, so he immediately started on the journey, and we now find him entering the hotel where he had learned she was stopping.

All the way, he had been devising plans as to how he should get into her presence. If he sent up his own name, she would claim she was indisposed, refuse him admittance, and he was a man who disliked to be thwarted in his plans. He would be compelled to send some name to her, and it must be someone whom she would want to see, as, naturally in this nervous condition, she would not see many people. She would see him though--in that he was determined.

He had pictured exultingly the shock it would be to her, and trusted a great deal in the fact that the force of the shock would be in his favor.

Finally he decided to send up the name of Dr. Baxter. He had two reasons for the selection,--Dr. Baxter was a noted expert in nervous disorders, a man whom one in her condition would be glad to see, and she had expressed herself as indebted to him for her intrusion upon his time and patience to satisfy her whim. Everything transpired exactly as he had antic.i.p.ated, and he was soon following a guide to her apartments.

His countenance had that impa.s.sive expression that usually characterizes so-called distinguished persons, but he was innately far removed from the calmness and immobility that his appearance indicated. It seemed to him his heart beats might be plainly heard by the young man ahead of him, and pausing when he had arrived at his destination to calm himself, he felt as though his strength were oozing out of his usually vigorous body, and he noticed his hands were actually trembling. He soon regained control over his nerves, however, and gave the signal announcing his arrival.

The door was opened almost immediately, and as he stepped forward, in the natural perturbation of his mind, he failed to notice who it was who opened the door. All his attention was fixed upon the coming ordeal, but just as he pa.s.sed the threshold he heard someone say in a hushed and awed tone, vibrant with emotion: "Master William! Master William!!"

He turned quickly toward the speaker, and as he saw the expression of not only wonder but pleasure on the face of the colored woman, his own eyes filled with tears, for he was just in the mood, wrought up and nervous as he was, that any unexpected noise or temporary shock would agitate him. He held out his hands to her, but no words came.

It was different with the woman; her face seemed to beam with happiness, as she carried his outstretched hands to her lips, murmuring, "Master William has come; now mistress will get well.--Augustus will be right back, and Oh, Master William, we have been powerful sad and lonely.

Bless your heart, you are looking fine! I will go and tell mistress you are here; You don't want me to tell mistress? Well, joy don't kill even sick people. I reckon your face and love will do her more good than medicine.--That's her voice--She's right in there and you shall not be disturbed only when Augustus comes."

This unexpected welcome, too honest and sincere to be doubted for a moment, did what nothing else could have done for William. He seemed to break away from the cold sensation that had for so long been clutching at his heart, and held every emotion in its relentless grasp. This expression of faithfulness and these words of welcome when he had schooled himself to look for and expect coldness, hauteur, and possibly defiance, had defeated the man who had come there by dint of force, carrying him back in fancy to scenes of past happiness, and had unwittingly unlocked the volcano of love and emotion, which he had so long repressed.

His whole countenance underwent an immediate change; his eyes shone with a l.u.s.tre almost dazzling, and his step quickened. He could not control his voice to speak, but he pressed the hand of the servant tightly, and with a quickness and agility of movement a youth might envy removed his outer garments, and started for the place that the servant had pointed out to him.

He met Clarissa just at the door, for she had risen to greet Dr. Baxter as she supposed. As his glance fell upon her, he advanced yet more quickly, and before she had time even to think, he clasped her in his arms, drawing her tenderly to him. Neither was conscious of what transpired, and of that scene there only remained in her memory in later times the feeling of such happiness as deprived her of speech and emotion, while in her ear was murmured words to her at the time unintelligible.

The shock was so great she was powerless to resist and when he turned his eyes toward hers, they seemed to hold her irresistibly. It seemed to her he had never before been so handsome. How good it was to feel his arms about her. She was sick and weak.--Closer and closer came his face to hers, and when his lips met hers, there was neither power nor wish to resist or repulse him. Without knowing or realizing what she was doing, she raised her arms and placed them around his neck, and her head nestled closer to his breast, instead of shrinking she gave kiss for kiss.

Just then there came a joyous laugh, which was quickly shut out by the closing of a door, but a large St. Bernard dog leaped upon William with a savage growl. Before the dog entered William felt a change in Clarissa; she was apparently changed from a loving woman to a rigid statue. He had not noticed the boyish laugh, as his mind had but one thought. He only knew he held Clarissa in his arms--the only woman he had ever loved instead of repulsing had yielded lovingly to his embraces and answered his caresses. Her eyes fed his hungry, starving soul, and shed the glances and promises of love.

The whole world might have quivered and shaken at this time, and he would have still been oblivious, but, looking into her eyes with all the eagerness of his soul, and revelling in the unexpected happiness he felt, he saw a change, that like some magical influence extinguished from her countenance its expression of love, loosened her closely clasping arms, and rendered cold and irresponsive the lips that had been so warm. He did not try to a.n.a.lyze the cause, but instinctively drew her more closely to him.

His eyes gleamed more brightly, as he pressed his lips more firmly to hers, and then came the shock of the dog's attack upon him, and the low sullen growl. Clarissa spoke quickly and sharply, and the dog moved slowly away, while she strove to free herself from William's embrace, but though she struggled, he drew her more tightly to him, and he felt a quiver as of a strong emotion pa.s.s over her. Then for the first time he remembered her illness, and a feeling of shame came to him that he had startled her so.

Probably the shock of his sudden appearance had made her faint. He had been the cause of her suffering--he would remove it. He lifted her easily in his arms, and placed her upon the couch from which she had risen when he entered. Her face was wan and pale, and her body seemed cold and inanimate, but her color returned as a voice said, "Come, Rex--get your supper." Then a door shut, and he heard no more.

With a sudden bound, and eyes flashing, Clarissa arose and confronted him. The change was so sudden he was wholly unprepared for it, and seeing the great struggle she was making to speak, he could only account for it by the supposition she was enraged because he had come upon her so unexpectedly, compelling her to admit by her acts if not by her words that her love for him had not waned any more than his for her. Her pride was wounded. He would not notice whatever she might say;--he would soon have her back in his arms again.

Finally she spoke. Her voice sounded cold and strange, and her words came slowly, and distinctly, but there was an apparent effort:

"You will excuse me if I retire. I am ill.--I will ring for my maid to escort you out, and so long as we live, never enter my home again."