“Adele—what?”
A slight flush came into her face; but she did not answer until after a silence of several moments. She then said,—
“Adele Weir.”
“Do you wish to return to your mother?”
This question disturbed the girl. There was evidently a strong mental conflict.
“If mother was as she used to be. But——”
The feelings of Adele overmastered her, and she again covered her face. Shuddering sobs almost convulsed her frame. They were not loud, but repressed as if by the whole strength of her will.
“If mother was as she used to be.” Self-possession was restored, after a brief struggle. “But she is not, and I am afraid never will be. Since she became a medium, she has not been like my mother of old. The spirits tell her a great many strange things, and she believes all, and does just what they say. Oh, dear! it is dreadful! I have not had a happy moment since the knockings, and writings, and strange doings began. And I don’t like the people who come to our house. Some of them, I know, are not good. There’s a Mr. Dyer. His heart is full of wickedness, I am sure, for none but a wicked man ever had such greedy eyes. I was not afraid of him, but more of myself, when he came near me. I felt as if I would like to kill him.”
“Did he ever offer you an insult?” asked Mr. Fleetwood.
“Once.”