CHAPTER XIX.
THE BIRD AND THE SERPENT.
“You needn’t stand glowering upon me after that fashion, John Dyer!” said Adele, after Mrs. Fordham and the child had left the room. “I know you, sir!”
“Silence!” was the passionate response, and——
“Silence!” was repeated, though in feebler utterance, from the mother of Adele.
“That is a wicked woman!” said the girl, resolutely. “There is a serpent in her eyes. I saw it when she was last here; and it looks out with keener venom now. Mother, beware of her!—and—” she hesitated a moment, and then went on, in a bolder tone,—“beware of him! There is an adder in your path: one step more, and it will sting you to death!”
She pointed her finger steadily at Dyer, and stood gazing at him until his eyes fell in confusion. Then she passed from the room with rapid but noiseless feet, gliding away like a spirit.
“An enemy hath done this,” said Dyer, almost meekly, turning to the mother of Adele. “You have slumbered, I fear, and let the evil one scatter tares in your field.”
“I know not its meaning,” sighed Mrs. Weir. “This morning I noted the first signs of a perverse temper.”
“What were the signs?” Dyer looked sharply into her face, reading every changing lineament, as if he were scanning the pages of a book. There was slight confusion, and a moment’s hesitation, on the part of Mrs. Weir. She then answered,—
“I desired to take her hand and lead her up among the beatific mountains, but she held back. I urged, and she refused. She then acknowledged having resisted Mrs. Fordham in the same way when that honored messenger made my house bright with her presence. Oh, it is distressing me beyond utterance!”
“Can you trace the cause?” inquired the man.
“No.”
“Your sphere is not strong enough.”
“Who has a stronger sphere than Mrs. Fordham?” queried the mother. “She has set her at defiance also: nay, her power of resistance just now proved more than our combined influence was able to overcome.”
“I can do it!” said Dyer, after a pause. “Leave her in my hands. I will exorcise the spirits of evil.”
“Your sphere repels her.”
Dyer was on the alert again, and his keen glances were upon the face of his companion.
“Has she said so?”
“Yes. And you heard her strange language just now.”
“Well? What further?”
“I have nothing further. We know that antagonistic spheres exist.”
“True, true.” The man seemed relieved. “She has compared me to a serpent. But I know my own heart. Evil, be thou far from me! Come, angelic purity! As we draw nearer the invisible world we grow more ethereal, and the coarseness of depraved nature is dissipated in the fire of divine affinities. To the pure all things——”
The ringing of the door-bell again interrupted their pleasant communion, and in a few moments they were joined by two visitors,—females,—who met Dyer and Mrs. Weir in a manner that showed them to be on terms of close familiarity.
In the mean time the woman Fordham had retired with the child to one of the chambers above, her mind deeply disturbed by the unexpected incident of Adele’s opposition to the necromantic rites about being instituted,—so much disturbed that she was unable to prolong the spell she wished to throw over the consciousness of the little girl, who momently became more and more distressingly alive to the strangeness of her position.
“Oh, ma’am,” she said, in pleading tones, as the woman shut the door on entering the chamber, “won’t you take me home? Mother is crying for me. I heard her crying all last night. Oh, dear! I do want to go home to my mother!”
“Don’t fret yourself, child!” replied the woman, a little harshly. “You shall go home.”
“Take me home now, won’t you? I don’t like to be here. You promised me yesterday that I should go home before night. Oh, ma’am, do take me home now!”
The little clasped hands were raised pleadingly; the husky voice quivered; the pale face had in it a look of fear and distress that would have melted any heart not made hard, by selfish passions, as the nether millstone.
“You shall go home, dear,” said the woman, softening her voice and assuming an affectionate manner. “You shall see your mother to-night.”
And she tried to lift her upon her lap, but the child resisted and held back. Then the woman seized her by both arms, and held her firmly, looking into her eyes, and exerting the serpent’s power of fascination.
The child stood still, held by a grip too strong for resistance, but she let her eyes fall.
“Look at me!” commanded the woman. But the glance she hoped to catch and hold in her weird gaze did not turn itself from the floor.
“Look at me! Do you hear?” And the woman placed one hand under the little girl’s chin and forced her face upward. But, instead of looking at the woman, the child shut her eyes.
Holding her thus, Mrs. Fordham commenced with one hand a series of mesmeric passes; but the child struggled and tried to escape from her. A blow was evidently meditated, for there was a quick raising of one hand, accompanied by an angry flash sweeping over the woman’s face. But the cruel purpose was repressed.
“What has come over the girl?” she muttered, impatiently. “Am I thus to be baffled again? I did not look for it here! But down, excitement! If I would regain my power, it must be through calmness and a resolute will.”
Releasing the child, who instantly shrunk away to the farther side of the room, Mrs. Fordham assumed an unimpassioned manner, but kept her gaze steadily resting upon her victim.
The woman sat on the bedside, and the child stood pale, trembling, and in tears, crouching against the wall directly opposite. Every thing became silent and motionless as death. The child did not look up, but steadily persisted in avoiding the gaze of her persecutor. But the powers of evil were too strong: there was an eye upon her that possessed a charm too potent for her to withstand; she was a frightened bird struggling, but in vain, against the fascination of a serpent. One, two, three minutes passed; all remained hushed as if statues and not living forms were in the room. At last the woman stirred slightly, as though the inner excitement had struggled through all restraining bars and shuddered along the surface: her head gradually bent forward, and her eyes protruded fearfully. And now there was an apparent relaxation of muscle in the child. Evidently, her will was losing its faculty of resistance. A minute more, and the woman began approaching, with the stealthy movements of a cat, her eyes still fixed intently upon the girl. Cautiously, and as if in doubt, she laid her hand against her cheek, touching it lightly. The child did not stir! She pressed the hand harder: there was no sign of consciousness! She called: there was no answer!
Suddenly a new life seemed thrilling along the woman’s veins. Her countenance flushed; her eyes danced in light; her whole person quivered. Stooping over the child, she lifted her with some caution, as if fearing the spell might dissolve, bore her across the room, and laid her upon the bed. Then she made slow passes above her for the space of nearly five minutes.
“All right!” she muttered, as a glow of evil triumph warmed her disfigured face, and her thin lips parted in a demoniac smile. “It was a hard struggle, but a vain one! There is an opposition of spheres in this house, and the medium of its activity is Adele Weir. Twice has she set me at defiance, twice thwarted the spirits. It must not occur again. Am I to be set at naught by a stripling of a girl like this?”
After standing over the unconscious child for some time longer, and using sundry tests to make sure that she was completely locked in magic slumber, Mrs. Fordham turned away, and, passing through the door, closed it, and was going down stairs, when a slight noise caught her ear. Glancing up in the direction from which it came, she caught sight of Adele watching her from the passage above. It was only a momentary glimpse; for, on finding that she was observed, Adele retired from sight instantly.
Mrs. Fordham paused, stood thinking for a little while, and then slowly returned to the room. She entered and examined the lock on the inside. It held a key. This was removed and passed into the wards on the other side.
“Thus I make surety doubly sure,” she said to herself, again closing the door, which she locked, placing the key in her pocket. She then went down to the parlor.
“How is our little trance-medium?” asked Dyer, as she entered.
“All right,” was answered. “Spirits from the lower spheres have battled hard for her, but the strife was vain. She is safe.”
“I congratulate you on the triumph,” said Mrs. Weir, enthusiastically. “She is a lovely child,” was added, with a touch of mother-feeling in her voice.
“The most remarkable child-medium I have yet seen.” Mrs. Fordham looked at the two visitors before mentioned. “The communications received through her are extraordinary. I am taking record of them daily, and their publication will astonish the world. Society is on the eve of some new developments. It is the night before the morning.”
“Is she tranquil?” asked Mrs. Weir.
“Entirely so.”
“Sleeping?”
“All the avenues to her soul are locked, and I have the key,” said Mrs. Fordham, with triumph in her tones. “Hark!” She paused and listened, her eyes raised to the ceiling. After a few moments of silence, she went on. “I thought there was a movement in the room above. But it was imagination, I presume.”
“Is there no danger of her awakening?” asked one of the visitors.
“None: only the hand that shut the door of her soul’s consciousness can open it again.”
“How wonderful is this power!” said the last speaker. “I tremble sometimes to think what terrible consequences might follow its abuse.”
“There is no danger of its abuse,” returned Mrs. Fordham.
“You think not?”
“I am sure of it.”
“None but the favored of spirits are intrusted with this power,” said Dyer; “and they are protected.”
“Will not the spirits speak through her to-day?” asked one of the visitors.
“I do not know. There have been opposing influences; but I trust they are removed. In half an hour we will go up to where she is lying in trance-sleep; and perhaps the spirits will move her to utterance.”
“Is she a speaking or writing medium?” was asked.
“Speaking. Whenever her lips are unclosed, it seems as if you heard a spirit talking.”
Half an hour was permitted to elapse, and then Mrs. Fordham, Dyer, Mrs. Weir, and the two visitors passed with hushed footsteps up to the chamber. At the door Mrs. Fordham paused, and, speaking to Mrs. Weir, said,—
“Your daughter must not be permitted to enter. The circle cannot be harmonized if she is present.”
“I will see to it,” was whispered back.
The door was then unlocked, and the company entered, each one with suspended breath. Mrs. Fordham preceded; but, ere she had gone half across the room, an exclamation of surprise and disappointment fell from her lips. The child was not there! In less than half a minute every part of the chamber was searched; but no sign of the missing one appeared.
“She may have thrown herself from the window!” said Mrs. Weir, blank terror in her countenance at the thought.
The window was opened, but no form lay on the ground beneath.
“Where is your daughter?” demanded Mrs. Fordham.
Mrs. Weir stepped to the door, and called, “Adele!” Twice, thrice she called; but only echo replied.
“It is her work!” exclaimed Mrs. Fordham, roused to mad excitement.
“Impossible!” said Mrs. Weir. “Adele! Adele!” Her voice went thrilling through the house.
“Search everywhere, from garret to cellar!” Mrs. Fordham spoke in a commanding voice, and then went striding up-stairs and sweeping like a storm from room to room. Chambers, attics, lumber-rooms, closets, cellar, and out-buildings, they searched with scrupulous care; but neither Adele nor the child were found. Both had vanished from the house, leaving no sign.