Woven with the Ship Part 44

So I waited and watched her. Presently she raised her beautiful eyes, red with weeping, and fixed them straight on me without the slightest sign of recognition, not even the fear that would have filled them had I been a stranger. What could be the matter?

I rushed over to the long swinging mirror in the corner, determined to look at myself and see what was wrong. I stood directly in front of the gla.s.s and glanced at its bright surface to make a last effort to solve the mystery. Reader, I will solemnly a.s.sert that when I looked in that mirror, expecting to see myself, _I was not there_!

There was nothing reflected there but the room and contents and Geraldine beyond, completely oblivious of me. She had taken a small picture of me I had given her and was alternately looking at it and pressing it to her heart. This evidence of an affection which I scarcely dared to hope that she entertained for me was certainly very gratifying, and at any other moment would have filled me with happiness; but in the light of the fact that I was not there, where I felt myself to be, I was too horror-struck for anything else.

I stood mechanically glaring at Geraldine, at the gla.s.s which did not reflect me, and at myself. I could see myself with my own eyes perfectly, hear my own voice distinctly, or touch myself with my own hands; in fact, I could see and feel as well as ever. I resolved to make one more effort.

"Geraldine," I said, softly. "Geraldine," louder. "Geraldine!" in a perfect scream, "I am going to kiss you this moment!"

She was lying back in a large chair, her hands listlessly crossed in her lap and her eyes closed. I walked firmly to her, hesitated a second, and then bent and kissed her upon the lips.

She says now it was very ungenerous of me to have taken advantage of her, but I submit that I had given every possible warning of my intention, and besides I was wrought up to such a pitch by the events of the afternoon I scarcely knew what I did; so I kissed her again and again, and this did really have some effect upon her. At first she blushed a warm, beautiful crimson, and as I kissed her a second and a third time, she started, raised her head, opened her eyes with a little scream, and said,--

"Oh, I must have fallen asleep and dreamed he was here--I suddenly felt a kiss, it seemed--Oh, Harry, Harry, why do you not come and help your girl?" and her head sank back in the chair and tears came again into her eyes. "Oh, Harry, why are you not here?"

I was nearly frantic by this time.

"Geraldine," I said, "I _am_ here. I did kiss you, really and truly, a moment ago."

But she paid no attention, and even while I was speaking kept up her little agonized appeal for me to come and help her. I rushed to the window, leaped out on the porch, jumped recklessly to the ground, dashed right into the arms of Mr. Holabird, ran through the streets to my own house, burst into the house, tore up the stairs to my room, and saw--what?

Myself, calmly and composedly lying back in the chair with Geraldine's letter in my hand! This was too awful; I sank down in the other chair, and as I did so my eyes fell upon the volume of the learned Archidechus. The mystery was solved! There in the other chair was my physical body, and in this one I sat, a disembodied spirit!

The explanation was so simple and evident it brought great relief to me. Everything was explained. Of course no looking-gla.s.s could reflect the spirit of a man, no one could feel him--or it--or hear him or see him; of course he could not open doors or strike people or lift anything, though, to be sure, no door could prove a barrier to such an ethereal, immaterial ent.i.ty as a disembodied spirit.

That accounted for my finding myself in Geraldine's room in spite of the locked door, for the child sitting down on my lap, for the bisque head smiling at my buffet, for Geraldine's ignorance of my presence.

As to the kiss--well, love was the highest and n.o.blest sensation (love such as we felt for each other) and as nearly a spiritually ethereal feeling as any human one could be; so, when I had kissed her, her spiritual being had responded to mine. This explanation fell easily in with the rest.

So far as I was concerned, I was, to put it plainly and simply, only my feelings and sensations; I was a wandering sensation! Doubtless my spirit took the same form as my visible body, but it was a thing so utterly immaterial as to be absolutely invisible to the human eye. I could talk, walk, see, and hear, because I had all my sensations with me, the guiding essence of my brain, too; but really my voice, for instance, was not audible, because when I opened my spiritual mouth it was only with the sensation of speaking, and no real sound was made; or, to put another explanation before you, my voice had become refined in proportion with the rest of me, and was pitched in such a sound-wave as the human ear was not capable of receiving and concentrating.

At that moment this seemed very interesting to me, and I settled myself comfortably back in my chair and laughed long and loudly. Of course I could go back into my own body at any time, and matters would straighten themselves out at once. I sat speculatively contemplating my body. It was a dramatic moment, indeed!

My body was sitting in the chair in exactly the same position I had been when I left it, or rather, I should say, _we_ had been when I left it. I bent over and touched it--or him?--he felt warm and natural, but not as if asleep. There was no beating of the heart, no rise or fall of the breast as in breathing, the eyes were opened and fixed but not gla.s.sy, the joints appeared to be flexible still, though, of course, I could not have moved one to see--in short, my body presented every appearance of suspended animation. I resolved not to try to get back into it just at present, and was still sitting there speculating upon my double self when the door opened and my sister--the one who brought the letter--came in; she was my favorite, and we were great friends. She glanced at me, and, supposing I was asleep, drew a chair over to the window and waited for me to awaken.

The fire was burning brightly in the grate, and, as ill-luck would have it, a bright little coal sprang out and fell on my lap,--that is, the lap of my body. It seemed as if there was yet some sort of a connection between us, because while the coal burnt into the leg of my body, it was I who felt the sensation. I rushed over to myself and attempted to brush it off. Of course I could not. The pain was really unbearable, and, forgetting my state, I called to Mary, my sister; of course she did not hear me! This was a worse dilemma than before. I decided at once to resume my proper condition, when, horror of horrors! I found that I did not know how.

It was true! I had been so constantly occupied in endeavoring to get out of myself, as it were, that I had completely omitted to learn the way to get in! This was worse than anything previous. I forgot all about the glowing coal which was still burning me, in the dreadful possibility which rose before me. Suppose they should bury me, would I suffer the pangs of suffocation forever, or at least until my body resolved itself into its primordial elements? I knew, of course, my spirit would never die, and if my body did turn to dust, would my spirit go with those of other departed beings, as the Bible teaches us, or would the fact that I had taken my spirit in my own hands, as it were, condemn me to wander forever in my present state?

I certainly felt my spiritual hair turn gray. What would become of Geraldine? Would I ever see her again or, rather, would she ever see me? Would she at last forget me and marry some one else, and force me to stand powerless looking on? I ground my spiritual teeth in rage and clinched my spiritual hand and swore--but what was the use of swearing? I could do nothing. I was too utterly ethereal, too entirely disembodied to even haunt any one, too ephemeral for a ghost even! Oh, horror! I thought my brain would give way. I thought of everything I could to help me out.

I had dabbled a little in hypnotism and had experimented surrept.i.tiously on various members of my family, princ.i.p.ally my sister Mary, and with some effect. Now, hypnotism is the controlling of one will by another. The will is an essential attribute of the spirit; there is nothing gross about it. It is true that the weakest and most physically imperfect specimens of this twofold race of ours sometimes possess the most powerful wills; plainly, then, body, physically considered, had nothing to do with this will power which is the secret of hypnotic force. Apparently I had my will power in better shape for use than at any time in my corporate body. I had it separated, under command, and could concentrate it more easily and advantageously. I would try it.

I got up, made the usual pa.s.ses, and ordered Mary to come and throw that coal off my leg. She did so at once. I was delighted. She stood abashed and silent in the presence of the, to her, hidden force controlling her. It flashed upon me in an instant I could cause her to open the volume of Archidechus and turn the pages for me. Joy! No sooner said than done.

I sat down beside her and willed her to do as I directed. I hastily made her turn to the part which treated of the resumption of the relationship; a new disappointment awaited me--the learned Archidechus stated that the individual in the case he studied had never resumed his mortal condition, and that the means of doing so were entirely unknown to him. That took away my last hope.

Mechanically I released Mary from the influence and then waited to see what she would do. Her glance fell upon me, and she looked at me wonderingly.

"Why," she said, "how long Harry sleeps!" She touched him on the shoulder. "Harry! Harry!" and then she looked in his face and screamed.

The family, the servants, every one, came running in. They filled my little room, and after narrowly escaping being crushed to death by our fat cook, who hysterically sank back in the chair in which I was sitting, I walked over to the corner of the room and waited. They picked him up and laid him on the bed, and tried all the simple remedies they knew to revive him. One poured brandy down his physical throat,--imagine the sensation in my spiritual one,--another one chafed his hands, one wetted a towel and struck him repeatedly with it, the old-fashioned feather was held under his physical nose--imagine my spiritual sensation a thousand times intensified and judge what I suffered.

I wished they would go away and bury me decently and let me alone; it was too much to endure quietly. I tried to hypnotize the whole lot, but unavailingly. Finally the futility of their efforts dawned upon them and they sat down to wait while one went for a doctor.

Doctor! I thought, contemptuously; what could he do? unless, indeed, they might find a stray spiritualist who could fulfil his promises and perhaps summon my spirit back into its earthly sh.e.l.l. Sure, never had I seemed so sweet to myself. If I ever got back to myself again I made a solemn vow never to leave myself on any pretext.

Presently the door opened and my father came in. My mother was long since dead. The old gentleman was almost heart-broken; he sat down beside me and took my physical hand. (I find the p.r.o.nouns very confusing in endeavoring to relate this dual story.) I would have given worlds to comfort him. Different members of the family stood around the room talking in low, hushed whispers of the dreadful fate that had befallen me, exchanging reminiscences about me, extolling me for many virtues I never possessed. There was some consolation in hearing what a n.o.ble fellow I was. I have not heard it before, nor have I heard it since, except from Geraldine. Finally the door opened and the doctor entered. He could do nothing whatever, as I had foreseen,--he actually p.r.o.nounced me dead,--and a few hours later I found myself neatly laid out in a coffin in the parlor,--that is, my physical body was.

I took the most comfortable chair--when no one else wanted it, of course--and waited for further developments. This was growing interesting, and I had become somewhat resigned to the hopelessness of my situation. I noted several curious facts. After a while I got very sleepy, intensely so, and lay back in my chair and closed my eyes and tried to go to sleep. It was no use; I could not. And yet I never so longed to go to sleep in my life. The fact was, a spirit could not sleep; and it was my body there in the coffin which felt sleepy; but I must suffer for it. It was the same way with hunger. I was hungry. I actually got so desperate as to go out to the pantry and look at the cold chicken and boiled ham there. I could easily smell them; but as to the eating--oh, it was horrible! I do not know how I got through the night.

The next day I could do nothing but sit and look at the people who came to see me and hear what they had to say. I have forgotten to mention that in my condition I seemed to have as one of its attributes a peculiar faculty of divining the real thoughts of the people who came to look at me. Among them was John Haverford. He was actually glad to see me; so at least I read his thought. Geraldine thinks I must have been mistaken; at any rate, the sight of him filled me with so much rage that I rushed over to him, I threatened him; I did more, I struck him, kicked him, nothing of which he was sensible. It was too bad.

Geraldine did not come. I waited heart-broken for her. Would she come?

The old man surely would not keep her. He was a pretty good fellow, after all--he is devoted to our youngest daughter now. I thought he certainly might bring her. I did not go out I could not bear to leave my lonesome looking body in the coffin. I had no heart for further adventures, anyway. I was intensely cramped from lying so long in one position. When I die I am going to be cremated; no more coffins for me. My wife says, however, she will not hear of that.

Geraldine told me afterwards that she pa.s.sed the day in longing for me to come and take her away, and wondering why I did not, besides being continually impressed with a premonition that something was going to happen. Finally, toward night on the second day of my anomalous situation, Mary--good and faithful Mary--bethought herself to go and tell Geraldine. On hearing the news that n.o.ble girl promptly fainted.

She recovered herself, however, and through Mary's aid managed to get out of the house and come down to see me.

I was looking at myself very dejectedly in the parlor, half dead from loss of sleep, hunger, and thirst, and wholly crazy from loss of love and my dreadful prospects,--I surmised they would bury me to-morrow,--when I heard the outside door open, a familiar and yet nervous step sounded in the hall, and then the parlor door opened. I had recognized the step; it was Geraldine, but how changed! I forgot myself and my trouble, and as she threw herself down on her knees and clasped me in her arms and kissed me, I suffered for her agony a thousand times worse than for mine. Great heavens! Was ever man in such a predicament? I bent over her in despair, and as she turned her face up in prayer, I kissed her lips again. She sprang to her feet and screamed,--

"Oh, he is not dead! I am sure of it! I felt him kiss me! I cannot be mistaken! Mary, send for papa, and tell him to bring his newest and most powerful storage battery along. I am sure Harry is not dead; hurry, hurry!"

So it was from Geraldine herself that this new idea of torture emanated. Oh, why could they not let a disembodied spirit alone in its peaceful misery? An electric battery could do no good, and it would be worse than the burnt feather.

Old Mr. Holabird was an electrician and an enthusiast. He would have sacrificed his best friend to an experiment, and consequently did not hesitate to come and practice upon me, whom he hated so bitterly previous to the unfortunate dissolution of partnership between my body and spirit. He was soon in the parlor with a servant following him bringing the battery. He was angry and astonished at seeing Geraldine, but his experiment was too engrossing for much time to be wasted upon her then.

Having obtained the consent of my father, he began taking off my shoes and then my socks. I blushed crimson; at least my spiritual ent.i.ty did. My physical body, I must confess, betrayed no evidence of shame at the exposure; and before Geraldine, too! Mary and father and the rest of the family looked on with anxiety and little apparent faith.

Geraldine stood beside me, resting one hand against my breast and looking at me as if not to lose the faintest sign of life I might show. Her father, all business and energy, attached the wires with a reckless want of ceremony; I thought in wretchedly bad taste. I must confess I hoped for the result of this experiment but faintly; however, there might be something in it, so I stood with my arm around Geraldine and my head resting upon her shoulder--spiritually, of course--as the connection was made.

I was quiet enough for just one-millionth of a second, till I felt the power of the current. It was awful; worse than any other experiment. I groaned in anguish while that fiendish old man made the current stronger and stronger, and that miserably placid body of mine lay there as calm and as unfeeling as a log, while I was in torment. I flew at the old man, clinched my hands in his hair, grasped him around the throat, did everything, and yet had to bear a current strong enough to have killed a dozen men, added to which was the anguish of feeling my last hope vanish. I was doomed!

The scientific fervor of old Holabird was at last satisfied, and he allowed the current to die down to one of much less intensity, merely keeping, as he said, a little on in case of an emergency. A little! It felt like ten toothaches run into one, but was so much less than before that it seemed almost like a caress in the first moment of relief.

While I was standing there helplessly, wondering what they would do with me, the old man walked up to Geraldine, who stood wringing her hands, looking at me, with her last hope gone, too, poor girl! and said,--

"Come, Geraldine, we must go; the man is dead."

"Liar!" I shouted; but no one heard me.

"And there is no use staying here," he continued; "I tell you you must come. I promised John Haverford that you would see him to-night. He asked me for your hand, and I consented to-day."

Oh, I could have begged him to turn on the electricity again; each pang fate had in store for me was worse than before. Geraldine answered gloriously,--

"But _I_ have not consented."

"What difference? I say you shall marry him!" he said, grasping her wrist.

"And I say I will not! I will be faithful to my dear dead Harry here!"