"Dearest!" warned the mother.
"It is true, and I want Mrs. Rice to know it. Since I was ten years old I have not been free of the thing for a day—only in the high mountains. There I could always draw a long breath. I am glad you've come, Mrs. Rice. I want you to ask Professor Serviss to come and investigate me. My only hope is in the men of science. Tell him I want him to help me understand myself." She was speaking now with force and heat. "I want him to padlock me and nail me down. I want to know whether I am in the hands of friends or enemies. Sometimes I think devils are playing with me. All my life I've been tortured by these powers; even at school they came banging about my bed, scaring my room-mates. They disgraced me before my teacher, the one I loved best. They interfered with my music, they cut me off from my friends, and now they've landed me here in this strange house with this dreadful old man, and I want some one, some good man who knows, some one who is not afraid, to come and test me. Mamma never doubts, Mr. Clarke is entirely satisfied, and this Mr. Pratt is worse than all. I don't believe in his pictures, I don't believe in what I do—I don't know what I believe," she ended, despairingly; then added, fiercely: "This I do know, I want to be free from it—free, free—absolutely free. I pray to God to release me, but He does not, and my slavery grows worse every day."
The girl's intensity of utterance thrilled Kate to the heart. Here was the cry of a tortured soul, the appeal of one in bondage. Dr. Britt was right, she was a victim.
"You poor thing. I begin to understand. I will help you, and so will my brother. He is already interested in you. He is just the one to advise with you. If any one can help you he can. He is so keen-eyed, so strong."
"I know he is. Have him come soon, won't you?"
The mother interposed. "But, dearie, you know Mr. Clarke says—"
"I know what he says," the girl answered, her face sullen and weary again. "He and all of you have no regard for me. You pretend to have, but you are all willing to sacrifice me to prove a theory. I don't care whether spiritualism is true or not, I want to have one single day when I can be sure of being myself, free to come and go like other girls. I feel as if I had a band of iron around my neck. I shall go mad with it some day."
Kate, usually ready, blunt, and fearless, sat in silence, perfectly convinced by the fury of the girl's protest, stunned by a belief in the complete truth of her indignant accusations. These devotees, these fanatics, were immolating a beautiful young life on the altar of their own selfish faith. The virgin was already bound to the rock, and the priest, torch in hand, was about to apply the flame.
"What can I do? I want to help you—"
An imperious knock at the door interrupted her, and for an instant Kate thought this another spirit message, but Mrs. Lambert called out, "Is that you, Anthony?"