The pamphlet had it, "Should the subject be very sensitive he will be unable to open them." Apparently the subject, though in this case feminine, was very sensitive. At least Mrs. Pratt kept her eyes shut fast. Mr. Pownceby was a little startled. He removed his touch from her brow and released her hand.
"Mrs. Pratt, are you hypnotised already?" Mrs. Pratt was silent. "Mrs. Pratt, you don't mean you're really hypnotised?" Still silence. He leant forward and stared at the lady, not in the same way he had done before, but quite as fixedly. "By Jove! I believe she is!" He got up from the chair. He glanced at the pamphlet. He wanted to know how to reverse the process--how to bring the lady to again.
"This is a pretty state of things! The thing is not such a swindle as I thought it was. But it's all nonsense. She can't be magnetised, or mesmerised, or hypnotised, or whatever it is. If she is, the thing's as easy as winking. If I'd only known it I'd have been mesmerising people since the days of childhood. Mrs. Pratt!"
But Mrs. Pratt was silent. If she was not "hypnotised," then she was in some condition which was equally curious. She sat back in her chair, with her face turned up to the ceiling, in a state of the most complete quiescence. Something in her appearance struck Mr. Pownceby as even unpleasantly odd. He recommenced searching down the page of the green covered pamphlet for the reversal process. It was beautifully simple.
"In order to release him," the pamphlet said--throughout the writer had taken it for granted that the "subject" would be masculine--"blow a sharp, cold wind from your mouth on his eyes, and say with authority, 'Now you can open them.' Repeat if necessary. It is important to recollect that a cold wind blown from the operator destroys the effect and demagnetises."
One could not but suspect that some subjects might not like this. But its simplicity was charming. If that was all that was necessary, then, so far as Mr. Pownceby was concerned, the whole science of hypnotism was already mastered.
He approached Mrs. Pratt. He bent over her, devoutly hoping that no one might enter the room as he was engaged in doing so. Quite a shock went through him as he advanced his face towards hers, the expression of her countenance was so very much like death. He blew a "cold wind" on her eyes--those pretty blue eyes, whose cerulean hue he had veiled.
"Now you can open them."
The words were spoken with as much "authority" as he could muster in the then agitated state of his mind; but Mrs. Pratt did not open them. The pamphlet said, "Repeat if necessary." Mr. Pownceby repeated. He blew, and he blew. He blew the "cold wind" all out of him, so that the beads of perspiration stood upon his brow, but still the "subject" gave no signs.
"Mrs. Pratt! Mrs. Pratt! I say, Mrs. Pratt, for heaven's sake do look at me!"