Seen and Unseen Part 19

I thanked her for these words, without asking anything further. As I have said, it was no affair of mine, from first to last; but the verification, after such a lapse of time, was doubly satisfactory to me.

Again I ask: How about the "_Cui Bono_" argument?

Another shake of the kaleidoscope, and I find myself at Wimbledon, staying with a friend--now, alas! pa.s.sed away--who had then a pretty house not far from the Common, and with whom I often spent a few days when in London.

On this occasion she had asked some friends to meet me at tea, amongst them Mrs Alfred Wedgwood, to whom I had introduced her some years previously, and my friends "V. C. Desertis" and his wife.

A Miss Farquhar, whom I knew very slightly, was sharing a sofa with me, she sitting at one end and I at the other, leaving a vacant s.p.a.ce between us. Mrs Wedgwood was talking to Mr Desertis at the moment, but suddenly looked across the room at our sofa, and began describing very graphically an old man of benevolent aspect sitting between Miss Farquhar and myself, leaning on a stick, and wearing a soft felt hat.

"He has long hair, almost down to his coat collar, and he looks such a dear, kind old man!" Mrs Wedgwood said; then turning round, she added: "Surely some of you must recognise him! he is so very clear and distinct in his whole personality."

Mrs Desertis whispered something to her husband, who asked at once if the old gentleman's hair was very white.

"Yes; quite white," said Mrs Wedgwood hopefully.

"And curly and long?"

"Yes; curly and quite long, reaching to his collar," continued Mrs Wedgwood, still more confidently.

But our hopes were dashed when Mr Desertis turned round drily to his wife: "Then it cannot possibly be my father, as you suggested. His hair was white, but _quite short_."

It was a cruel blow! But Mrs Wedgwood still affirmed that she had never seen anyone more distinctly, whether we recognised him or not.

I may here mention that I had been sleeping very badly in this house for some nights past, and regretted this the more, because I was shortly going to stay with a friend at Windsor for my first "Fourth of June,"

and wished to be specially bright and well for the coming festivities.

These bad nights were later proved to have some connection with the benevolent old gentleman just described!

Now I will continue the sequence of events.

Mrs Wedgwood's clairvoyant description had been forgotten by us all, as I supposed, long before the afternoon came to an end. It had pa.s.sed unrecognised, and other interesting matters arose in conversation.

The following day Miss Farquhar wrote a line to my hostess, asking if she might come to tea towards the end of the week, as she had something very interesting to tell us. She came, of course, and thus unfolded her budget:

"None of you seemed very much impressed about that old gentleman Mrs Wedgwood described here the other day, but her words were so graphic that I felt sure she was really seeing him at the moment, so I determined to try and find out something about him.

"I went to an old lady I know, one of the oldest inhabitants, and asked her if she knew anything of your predecessors in this house. She told me an elderly couple had lived here, a husband and wife, that the husband had died, and that although the wife lived away from Wimbledon now, she could not bear to part with the house which her husband had been so fond of; so let it. In fact, my old friend seemed to think she must be your present landlady."

This was said to my hostess, and proved to be quite true. The house had been let through an agent, and as the present owner lived in a distant county, nothing was known of her personally by my friend.

Then Miss Farquhar continued: "Hearing that the old man was so devoted to the house rather suggested a reason for Mrs Wedgwood seeing him here, so I asked my old lady if she had known this gentleman, and if so, would she describe him. She did this, _almost word for word as Mrs Wedgwood had seen him_. Also, she added, that he was a good deal of an invalid, often sat indoors, with a hat on for fear of draughts, and carried a stick, upon which he constantly leant for support."

This was very satisfactory, and we applauded Miss Farquhar's detective instincts, and promised to let Mrs Wedgwood know about the matter.

The latter took it all very quietly, only remarking that she felt sure someone ought to be able to find out about the old man.

A sudden thought struck me that my disturbed nights and uncomfortable feelings, in a very cheerful and pretty bedroom, might possibly be connected with the same old man. Without saying a word about this, I asked Mrs Wedgwood to come up into my room before she returned to London, and then I told her that I could not sleep, and had not had a peaceful night since I arrived. Could she find out what was the cause?

Mrs Wedgwood looked round for a moment, and then said in the most casual way: "Not the smallest doubt of the cause. It is that old man, of course. He is earth-bound, I expect, and haunting the house. You had better take a message from him if you want to get rid of him. I would help you if I could, but I shall be late for my train if I don't start at once."

Next morning I took the poor old gentleman's message, which began with an apology and regrets for disturbing me, but went on pathetically:

"You must forgive me, I was so very anxious to send a message to my wife, and I saw that you were a sensitive and could take it from me--I did not realise that it might cause you so much discomfort. That lady called me earth-bound, but if I am, it is only through my deep love for my dear wife, and I am permitted to watch over her. I was drawn here by my old affection for this house, and also by your presence here, knowing you could help me."

He then gave the message, of which I can only remember that it was most touching in its expressions of deep affection and watchful care for his widow.

As we did not know this lady's present address, and could not procure it without raising inconvenient questions, my hostess and I settled that she should lock up the message, in the hope that some day we might be able to forward it.

A year later I had a most unpleasant experience of being made to feel seriously ill when I came down for a night from town, and as another clairvoyant a.s.sured me that this resulted from the message remaining undelivered and the poor old man's frantic endeavours to reach his wife's consciousness, I told my Wimbledon friend that something _must_ be done. Either she must procure the lady's address "_coute que coute_,"

or I could not come down again to Wimbledon until this step had been taken.

Under pressure of this determination of mine the address was procured, and this led to a rather unpleasant experience.

I wrote a very courteous letter to the lady, enclosing the message, and explaining that I was quite debarred from visiting my Wimbledon friend until it was delivered, that I hoped, therefore, she would excuse my sending it, after more than a year's consideration of the question. I further intimated that although she might consider me a lunatic for my pains, I trusted there could be nothing to vex or hurt her in so touching an evidence of her husband's constant care and love, however little faith she might be disposed to place in the source from which the message was supposed to emanate.

The answer came as a shower bath on my unfortunate head.

The old lady (?) was furious. She had never heard of such wicked nonsense! "_Her dear husband was quite the gentleman, both in clothes and appearance, and he was not old--not a day over sixty-eight--when he died_," etc. etc.

It would have been amusing if it had not been rather pitiful to think of the poor "young" man of sixty-eight trying so hard to reach such a termagant!

Later, I heard that the military man, through whom the old lady's address had been given to my Wimbledon hostess, had asked the husband of the latter if I were a lunatic, by any chance!

And this is how some of us welcome our friends from the other side of the veil! The marvel to me is that Love can still be stronger than Death, in face of such ingrat.i.tude and stupidity!

I have already mentioned my extreme sensitiveness to the atmosphere (psychic) of rooms, especially rooms where one sleeps. I find another instance of this in my notes.

I was paying a first visit to a friend in the south of England, and a very bright, cheerful room had been allotted to me there.

From the first night I felt a strong influence of a man in the room.

Kindly note that I do not say the influence of a _strong_ man; on the contrary, the character appeared to me that of an essentially weak man--weak rather than wicked--sensual as well as sensuous--self-indulgent, and greatly wanting in grit and will power.

My hostess had two sons, one whom I knew, and the other, living abroad, whom I had never met. The influence I felt was certainly not that of the son I knew, who was both manly and strong-willed, a fine soldier, and "hard as nails," as men would say.

I feared it might be the other son, however, and took an early opportunity of asking to see a photograph of the latter. My mind was quite set at rest. It was certainly not this man's influence that I had felt so strongly in my room.

Asking my hostess, _who_ had chiefly occupied the room, she said at once: "Both my sons have slept there at different times," adding, "I am sure you have some of your queer ideas about the room--what is the matter with it?"

I told her; "Now that I am quite convinced that neither of your sons is implicated, I will describe to you the character of a man whom I feel sure must have slept in that room and has left a strong psychic influence behind him."

I then mentioned the characteristics already given, and one or two more which have escaped my memory.

My sceptical friend looked a little surprised. She said nothing at the moment, but crossed the room to a cabinet, whence she took a photograph of a man which I had never seen, and placed it in my hands.

"I am bound to confess," she added, "that you have exactly described the character of my brother-in-law, who certainly has occupied the room more than once."