ened pencil and a block of scribbling paper. He had grasped something, he thought, this morning, that must instantly be committed to words, before he even read over his
s hand had nothing to write. His brain was full of what he wanted to write, but his hand disowned the controlling impulse. Again and once again he ca
ain with a conviction that now he would be able to give words to the impression that was so strong in his conscious brain, and, as he took up his pencil again, again his hand seemed to be yearning to write. There was that coral-lipped anemone at the edge of the water, the
by a fighting consciousness, do what it chose. It was no longer in his own control: something, somebody else possessed it. But it was with conscious reluctance that he resigned th
more. You have got to do your best and your highest. That's the root of probation. But I am always your most lovin
his conscious self into this ecstasy of conveying, with black marks on white paper, all that had obsessed him this morning as he swam out to sea, and lay between sun and water, the happiest of earthly animals, and the nearest to the key of the symbol. Then, after a half-hour of pure interpretation, that was finished too, and he lay back in his chair a
, without pause or transition, he saw a white statue standing close to him, on the neck of which there wriggled the tail of a worm, protruding from the fair white surface, and instantly his forgotten dream leaped into his mind, with a pang of horror. That was what his dream had been: there had been a statue standing just there,
hen you pretend to come out into the garden to
s of his consciously written manuscript. The leaf on which the mess
h. Oh, it's got the sea in it, Jessie; I really believe there's the sea there. I'll read i
d up the
ame out. But I want to hear what you've written, so I apologiz
ook it f
belong," he
sed a
told you about the mes
I was a chil
ie n
altogether for years, haven
her. But I can't make anything out of it. He tells me
adings of rats or lobster-salad; all such things as table-tappings and the doings of mediums under the heading of trickery. But, knowing what she did of Archie's childish experienc
er he held out to her,
ery glad when you told me that for all these years you had
y had talked ab
with my wanting or not; it just comes. This afternoon I cou
r nose the wrong way,"
effect," said Archie. "The thing is imperative: if Martin wants me to write, I must write. Bu
something strange and uncanny about it. I
used a
t is the spirit of Martin that makes
errupt
given that it is genuine, and not some mere mediumistic trick, is not less than converse with some evil bei
fingering the ed
she said. "I think the
it's a thing t
s from her, that her signature is genuine, just as I believe Martin's to be. Do you really think that when I was a poor little consumptive chap at Grives I was really possessed by an evil spirit? Isn't that rather too horrible an imagining? A nice state the next world must be in, if that sort of thing is allowed! I do
over both. But somehow it offended this instinctive attitude that the next world, and those who had gone there, should be mixed up with this world. They were not dead; she did not think they had ceased to exist; but they had done with this world, and it was something like a p
t was all finished, like a childish fairy-story, like the Abracadabra
dismissal of the whole affair. She did not want to talk any more about it, and, if below her
tin-or somebody-has written again. You were quite right to imagine that for me the whole thing was finished, had become an Abracadabra-myth as you said. As far as normal life goes, I thought it had too. But I always knew that it might come back. And it has come back without m
n to those evidences of the kindly ordinary human life, as an anchor to prevent her drifting out into perilous seas. But to Archie no seas were perilous: they might engulf his
d hers, "You spend the day bathing and sailing and writing; you eat and you sleep, and then suddenly you spring a su
ull of rusk and cherry-jam. He polit
he said. "Of course we
onality?"
I can reach it if I want. I can make it act. It is the essential life which we all of us contain, and, as such, it is that part of ourselves with which the essential life of those who have quitted this unessential life can communicate. Martin doesn't communicate with that part of me which directs and controls my conversation with you. He speaks to my subconscious self, and, by some rather unusual arrangement, m
sed a
alked to it, and told it to make my hand write. What other explanation is there, unless indeed you imagine that I have merely perpetrated a silly hoax? But I swear to you that something ou
ing of things which were altogether fantastic, unless they were dangerous. And somehow, they were not either fantastic or dangerous to him; they were as
u would say. But what proof is there that there is such a thing as the subconscious self? Why shoul
e lau
ing not with me but with yourself. You h
she said. "I
d his hand o
d. "Of course there are lots of ways, though it is q
ht for a
actically unlimited by the material laws of the world. It is a sort of X-ray, a sort of wir
ere fixed on a bright speck of sunlight that gleamed on
she said. "It's
id he quietly, "and you
ing to be fr
t speck at which he had been staring, and
u going to d
quiet, for two minutes, and I'll tell you anything you choose. Think of s
ought-readin
tance, I'll tell you that. Or, there is Harry writing his history lecture for next term at this moment. I'll tell you the words he is writing. At least I think I sh
of mind she longed to have that conviction shattered. In her reasonable self she did not believe that Archie could possibly tell her wh
a fit or anything, w
over me if I do, and I
are you go
ne, and tell you what Harry is writing at this moment, if that is the test you select. What fun it all is! I haven't done it, a
xtraordinary change come over his face. For a few seconds it got troubled, and his eyes stared painfully, while his breath came quickly in a
another day Pericles made the funeral oration for the fallen; on another the great Propylaea to the Acropolis were finished, Socrates talked in the market-place, or supped with Alci
ed his eyes
ed for the pre
t above them, where they sat in
left?"
e loo
t you were going to finish your le
ink I'll finish
as far as you've got," said
rplish at the end, and that's
and Archie spoke to Jessie. "
e got it
e jum
ain in-in the wicious pride of your youth, as Mr.
*
ad been able to divine exactly what Harry was writing at that moment. In his conscious state he could not know what that was, but according to his own account certain people, of whom he was one, were able to direct not only their conscious selves but also the subconscious self that lay below. It, so he asserted, was practically unfettered by material laws: it could perceive what was happening at a distance
imly understood, was fully admitted by scientific investigators. No one, except the most hide-bound of pedants, questioned the existence of the subconscious self, and, i
subconscious self could get into touch with the thoughts of living people (as she had seen for herself that afternoon), so also could it get into touch with the thoughts of the dead. It was thus, so Archie announced, that when he was a mere child, and knew nothing whatever of conscious and subconscious selves, Martin, the brother whom he had never heard of, used his hand to write with
ever known. This world and the next were one to him, not by any spiritual insight, but from that instinctive conviction that there was really no difference between the living and the so-called dead. It was not by any enlightenment, through any stress of prayer and aspiration that he had arrived at that. He had been gifted with it as a child; he was a medium, who by some special gift could talk to a brother, who had died long years ago, with just the same naturalness as he talk
stars in the silent sky, and on the silent sea shone the constellations from the fishing-boats. The trees stood motionless in the holy summer-hushed night beneath, while, though all seemed to sleep, the great renewing forces of the world were ripening t
y tender in the thought that Martin, who had been but little more than a child when he died in that Swiss chalet, should tell Archie about the cache he had made under the pine-tree? It was a childish communication, it brought no message of consolation or encouragement; but it was just what Martin, had he been alive on this side of Death, might have told Archie. Besides, who knew that he did not give that as a test, as a pr
tings, for he always came when you paid your guinea to the medium and sat in the dark. To encourage him they lifted up their voices, at the suggestion of the medium's niece, and sang "Lead, kindly Light," which gratified him so much that he joined in singing the second verse and sang his own hymn to the tune given in Hymns Ancient and Modern. Then, when the hymn was over, he made some moral reflections and blessed them in Latin. Then there came materializations; the head and shoulders of Durward appeared in the middle of the table. He was dressed in white, and had a large black beard, and round his ear the wire with which the beard was attached to his face was clearly visible. During this the circle was warned to keep their hands touching all round the table, for, if any one made a break, the consequences to the medium might be very serious, since the spirit had built itself up from material derived from the medium and the "electric fluid" co
was no use accounting for her repugnance towards genuine intercourse with spirits by her repugnance towards quacks and charlatans. The whole history of spiritualism teemed with these undesirable gentry and these faked phenomena, but they had no more connection with Archie and his communications from his brother than had a forged bank-note with the credit of the Bank of England. She found she did believe that the knowledge, say, of the cac
did every evil impulse that would blight, if it could, the garden of God. And who knew whether the man who by that strange faculty which Archie possessed of opening the doors of his subliminal self, through which, as he averred, these messages came, might not open them to other and evil things? If possession by an evil spirit was a psychical possibility (and certainly it was not more fantasticall
om beyond the veil, was it not his duty to use this endowment for the enlightenment and consolation of those who mourned and who sat in darkness? God would never have bestowed so spiritual a gift on any, if He did not mean it to be used. The Christian Faith taught that the dead were alive in a wider sense than ever they had been on earth; why then should it be forbidden, to those who had this amazing gift, to speak with them, to learn about their life? The Roman Church had fulminated its anathemas on Galileo, a thing scarcely credible to
fused to accept the conclusion. Like a child afraid of the dark, it trembled and hung back, and no amount of logical assurance from its nurse, no amount of demonstration that the room w
er eyes pour into her soul the superb serenity of the Italian night. The moon had risen and spread across the bay a silver path to the edge of the world, and in the sky the wheeling innumerable worlds kept sentinel over the earth. Never had she looked on a stillness mor
flash of lightning from some storm very far away. Long after
*
bering in his hammock in spite of the sun that filtered through the pine-tree on to his brown face and curly head. But perhaps some intangible shaft from her
shocking for a young lady to see a young gentleman's bare feet and his pyjamas
lways wear patent leather boot
t bear it for once.
d his legs over the side of the ham
u smoke before bre
gue and your teeth in your mouth for eight or nine hours. Hullo! Here's the post. English papers? Who cares for what happens in
out to Egypt over some government irrigation work, and, instead of coming back in June, would be detained out there till September. In consequence, Lady Tintagel hoped th
nt, because I've simply set my heart on stopping here. It's horrible at home in the summer with the sun blazing into those little tiny rooms and the smell of greens flooding the house. And it really would be a kindness to Cousin Marion; she says so herself, as you'll find when you read her note. And besides, there's another reason which I know you can guess. In fact, I think it's our duty to come, and when duty take
e from Lady Tintage
ave you two with me for the rest of the season. I spoke to Archie about it while we were at Silorno, so ask him whether he approves or not. I hope all goes well with you. Is Archie qui
d have to consent: there was no cause that could be spoken about which she could possibly adduce for refusing. A week ago that cause did not exist, but now she wondered how she could bear to see Helena and Archie in the close companionship wh
sion, but his love spoke in his silence, even as the rosy clouds high above the earth herald the dawn. It was her own knowledge that enlightened her: she too knew the silent language, and knew that Archie conversed in it, though no word came, when he talked to Helena. Something kindled behind his eye, some secret alertness possessed him... But there was the defencelessness and the blindness of love, for when Helena answered him she but pretended to talk the same to
e spoke to any of them they never got more than one ear and an inattentive mind from him. The other ear and the attention were always with Helena. Helena knew that quite well: no woman or girl could fail to know it, and, by way of response, she had made this Scythian retreat to England. No doubt
ressing-gown on, perhaps some sort of ab
s the use of dressing if you are going
to work this morni
bathe all the morning instead of half the morning. I want a holiday. I think I'm
n't," s
ed; he began to talk th
ood and Helena
he asked. "You had a
t to understand wha
said, determined that Archie s
"I haven't heard from either of them, except
guage still; the very careles
The letter was from Helena, and there
uent in the language without words. Eventually he remarked that Harry was very late, and Jessie kn
o you about what they hav
rchie. "I say, what
code of the secret language, professed an indifference to
's entrance. She agreed they were very good; probably they were fresh sardines caught last night by the fishers.
for her without meaning to do it, but she had, out of a sort of piqued femininity, intentionally done the same for him. She felt as if she had spoiled a chi
e Archie, in a superb unconsciousness of her presence, b
e!" sh
ed with
hat?" he
she said, "only you would talk about sardines. Pu
that he had no idea what that paragraph was about. And, though a moment before she had been peni
ing you," she said. "I'll
threw the pape
really. But I'll confess: I'm just longing to know what Helena writes about.
ion wants Helena and me to live with her till father
d forwar
I hope you will. I can't see
e to hers. For her there was a wealth of frankness and friendl
ants to,"
u don't?" he asked. "I'
go
at a bit," she said. "I
want us. Of cou
e ros
f you," he said. "We shall
e fell, very awkwardl
at length. "That's what I meant. He is very ofte
ach, and lay spread out to the sun to be dried and browned and made eager for another dip. So, to-day, after the first swim, he lay for a while on his back with his arms across his face to shield his eyes from the glare, and opened his brain, so to speak, to let the sea-thoughts invade it. They came swarming in at his invitation, and presently he turned over and pro
be an inmate of their house in London. Yet it did not seem to be that which was preventing him, and he wondered whether it was the thought of his father and his habitual intoxication, which was always like a black background at
et only yesterday Martin had said that he should not come to him again. But the quality of the force seemed unmistaka
ally happened when the message was complete, gave a dash. He had no n
" it said, "to repeat that you have been war
nhibition between his brain and his hand was gone, and sentence after sentence of his sea-sketch flowed through his fingers. By degrees, but not till a couple of his pages were full, did the inspiration exhaust its
gain roasting himself in the sun. Soon that delectable warmth would increase on his bare limbs, till they cried out for the cool embraces of the sea again, and he would fling himself into it. But just for a little longer he would stew and stupefy himself in the sun and with half-closed eyes watch the vibrat
*
is diminishing tale and the colour of their emotions were absolutely opposed, for while they both intensely enjoyed these Italian hours, Jessie counted them with the grudging sense of a school-boy who enumerates the remaining days of his holiday; but to Archie they were the
it were lines and patches of much darker texture, as if it had been rent, and had been darned again with a blacker thread. Instead of the coolness which succeeded sunset, the heat, clear no longer, but impure like the air of a closed room, got ever sultrier, and, for the refreshment of the evening breeze
the supporting wall of the fortress, where, if anywhere, they might find some hint of movement in this intolerable calm. But no breath v
d his stream
ay that I am going to die. I can't bear it any l
seemed to make her hotter, as when you stir the water in a hot bath
r corpse back to Englan
for it. Lord, and I haven't finished packi
urely, if you'r
by my death. Or shall I go to bed? It can't be hotter in my hammock than here.
presently appeared again attired
uch doubt whether you'll get it. You needn't do the same t
e where his hammock was hung, a pale tall
the result perhaps of her overstrung nerves and the ov
she cried. "Don't go-some
nged downwards into the stone-pine, which was rent from top to bottom. Absolute blackness filled with the d
om that tremendous crash and convulsion. Then Archie, with his soak
me," he said. "What made you do
iven to hysteria that laugh was hal
u to die in half an ho
*
Archie's life indeed. Some inexplicable signal from love had