“Indeed! I thought she left the room when I entered it. Of course, Hester, I will not detain you if it is necessary that you should be at the Infirmary; but I give you up very reluctantly. Salome, if you are at leisure, please come and see how Hester dresses my hand and arm, for I must rely upon your kind services when she leaves us. Notice the manner in which she winds the bandages. There, Hester,—not quite so tight.”
“Dr. Grey, I never had an education, and am at best an ignorant, poor soul: therefore, not knowing what to think about many curious things that happen in sick-rooms, I should be glad to hear what you have to say concerning that vision of your sister. Remember, she saw it at the very minute that the accident happened. I don’t believe in spirit-rapping, and such stuff as dancing tables, and spinning chairs, and pianos that play tunes when no human being is near 124 them; but I have heard and seen things that made the hair rise and stand on my head.”
“The circumstance that occurred three days since is certainly rather singular and remarkable, but by no means inexplicable. My sister knew that I was then travelling by railroad,—that I would, without some unusual delay, reach the dépot at a certain hour, and, being in a delirious condition, her mind reverted to the probability of some occurrence that might detain me. Having always evinced a peculiar aversion to railroads, which she deems the most unsafe method of travelling, she had a feverish dream that took its coloring from her excited apprehension of danger to me; and this vision, born of delirium, was so vivid that she could not distinguish phantom from reality. In ninety-nine cases out of every hundred similar ones, the dream passes without fulfilment, and is rarely recollected or mentioned; but the hundredth—which may chance by some surprising coincidence to seem verified—is noised abroad as supernatural, and carefully preserved among ‘well-authenticated spiritual manifestations.’ If I had escaped injury, the freaks of my sister’s delirium would have made no more impression on your mind than the ravings of a lunatic; and, since I was so unfortunate as to be bruised and burned, you must not allow yourself to grow superstitious, and attach undue importance to a circumstance which was entirely accidental, and only startling because so exceedingly rare. Presentiments, especially when occurring in cases of fever, are merely Will-o-the-wisps floating about in excited, diseased brains. While at sea, and constantly associated with sailors, whose minds constitute the most favorable and fruitful soil for the production of phantasmagoria and diablerie, I had frequent opportunities of testing the fallacy and absurdity of so-called ‘presentiments and forebodings.’ I am afraid it is the absence of spirituality in the hearts of the people, that drives this generation to seek supernaturalism in the realm of merely normal physics. The only true spiritualism is that which emanates from the Holy Ghost,—conquers sinful impulses, and makes a Christian heart the temple of God.”
Here Miss Jane called Hester into the adjoining room; and turning to Salome, Dr. Grey added,—
“Notwithstanding the vaunted destruction of the ancient Hydra of superstition by the darts and javelins of modern rationalism, and the ponderous hot irons of empirics, it is undeniably true that the habit of ‘seeking after a sign’ survived the generation of Scribes and Pharisees whom Christ rebuked; and manifests itself in the middle of the nineteenth century by the voracity with which merely material phenomena are seized as unmistakable indications of preternatural agencies. The innate leaven of superstition triumphs over common sense and scientific realism, and men and women are awed by coincidences that reason scouts, but credulity receives with open arms. Salome, I regret exceedingly that I am forced to trouble you, but there are some important letters which I wish to mail to-day, and you will greatly oblige me by acting as amanuensis while I dictate. My present disabled condition must apologize for the heavy tax which I am imposing upon your patience and industry. Will you come to the library?”
She made no protestations of willingness to serve him, and confessed no delight at the prospect of being useful, but merely bowed and smiled, with an expression in her eyes that puzzled him.
Seated at the library-table, and writing down the sentences that he dictated while pacing the floor, Salome passed one of the happiest hours of her life; for it brought the blessed assurance that, for the present at least, he acknowledged his need of her.
One of the letters was addressed to Mr. Gerard Granville, an attaché of the American legation at Paris, and referred principally to financial affairs; and the other, directed to Muriel Manton, contained an urgent request that she and her governess would leave New York as speedily as possible and become inmates of his sister’s house.
When she had folded the letters and sealed them with his favorite emerald signet,—bearing the words, “Frangas non Flectes,”—Salome looked up, and asked,—