From my hour of birth;
Upon my buried body lie
Lightly, gentle earth.—The Maid’s Tragedy.
Professor Mapleleafe speedily saw that to oppose his sister would be inopportune—might perhaps even cause her decline and death. He determined’ therefore to humour her, and to delay for a short time their proposed return to America.
‘Look here, Eustasia,’ he said to her one day, ‘I find I’ve got something to do in Paris; you shall come with me. Perhaps the change there may bring you back to your old self again. Anyhow we’ll try it; for if this goes on much longer you’ll die!’
‘No, Salem, I shan’t die till I’ve seen him again!’ she answered, with a faint forced smile.
They set about making their preparations at once, and were soon on their way to Paris. The movement and change had given colour to Eustasia’s cheeks, and brought a pleasurable light of excitement into her eyes, so that already her brother’s spirits were raised.
‘She’ll forget him,’ he said to himself, ‘and we’ll be what we were before he came!’
But in this Salem was mistaken. Eustasia was not likely to forget Bradley. Indeed, it was the thought of seeing him again that seemed to give new life to her rapidly wasting frame. She knew that he had left England; she thought that, like herself, he might be travelling to get rid of his own distracting thoughts; so wherever she went she looked about her to try and catch a glimpse of his face.
They fixed themselves in Paris, and Salem soon dropped into the old life. He fell amongst some kindred spirits, and the séances began again; Eustasia taking part in them to please her brother, but no more. She was utterly changed; each day as it rolled away seemed to take with it a part of her life, until her wasted frame became almost as etherealised as those of the spirits with whom she had dealt so much.