She gave him her hand without rising.
“Lady Laura asked me to excuse her absence to you, Mr. Baxter. To be quite truthful, she is at home, but had just gone upstairs for her meditation.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes, you know; we think that so important, just as you do. Do sit down, Mr. Baxter. You have had tea?”
“Yes, thanks.”
“I hope she will be down before you go. I don’t think she’ll be very long this evening. Can I give her any message, Mr. Baxter, in case you don’t see her?”
Laurie put his hat and stick down carefully, and crossed his legs.
“No; I don’t think so, thanks,” he said. “The fact is, I came partly to find out your address, if I might.”
Mrs. Stapleton rustled and rearranged herself.
“Oh! but that’s charming of you,” she said. “Is there anything particular?”
“Yes,” said Laurie slowly; “at least it seems rather particular to me. It’s what you were talking about the other day.”
“Now how nice of you to say that! Do you know, I was wondering as we talked. Now do tell me exactly what is in your mind, Mr. Baxter.”
Mrs. Stapleton was conscious of a considerable sense of pleasure. Usually she found this kind of man very imperceptive and gross. Laurie seemed perfectly at his ease, dressed quite in the proper way, and had an air of presentableness that usually only went with Philistinism. She determined to do her best.
“May I speak quite freely, please?” he asked, looking straight at her.
“Please, please,” she said, with that touch of childish intensity that her friends thought so innocent and beautiful.
“Well, it’s like this,” said Laurie. “I’ve always rather disliked all that kind of thing, more than I can say. It did seem to me so—well—so feeble, don’t you know; and then I’m a Catholic, you see, and so—”
“Yes; yes?”
“Well, I’ve been reading Mr. Stainton Moses, and one or two other books; and I must say that an awful lot of it seems to me still great rubbish; and then there are any amount of frauds, aren’t there, Mrs. Stapleton, in that line?”
“Alas! Ah, yes!”
“But then I don’t know what to make of some of the evidence that remains. It seems to me that if evidence is worth anything at all, there must be something real at the back of it all. And then, if that is so, if it really is true that it is possible to get into actual touch with people who are dead—I mean really and truly, so that there’s no kind of doubt about it—well, that does seem to me about the most important thing in the world. Do you see?”
She kept her eyes on his face for an instant or two. Plainly he was really moved; his face had gone a little white in the lamplight and his hands were clasped tightly enough over his knee to whiten the knuckles. She remembered Lady Laura’s remarks about the village girl, and understood. But she perceived that she must not attempt intimacy just yet with this young man: he would resent it. Besides, she was shrewd enough to see by his manner that he did not altogether like her.
She nodded pensively once or twice. Then she turned to him with a bright smile. “I understand entirely,” she said. “(May I too speak quite freely? Yes?) Well, I am so glad you have spoken out. Of course, we are quite accustomed to being distrusted and feared. After all, it is the privilege of all truth-seekers to suffer, is it not? Well, I will say what is in my heart.
“First, you are quite right about some of our workers being dishonest sometimes. They are, Mr. Baxter. I have seen more than one, myself, exposed. But that is natural, is it not? Why, there have been bad Catholics, too, have there not? And, after all, we are only human; and there is a great temptation sometimes not to send people away disappointed. You have heard those stories, I expect, Mr. Baxter?”
“I have heard of Mr. Eglinton.”
“Ah! Poor Willie. … Yes. But he had great powers, for all that. … Well, but the point you want to get at is this, is it not? Is it really true, underneath it all? Is that it?”
Laurie nodded, looking at her steadily. She leaned forward.
“Mr. Baxter, by all that I hold most sacred, I assure you that it is, that I myself have seen and touched … touched … my own father, who crossed over twenty years ago. I have received messages from his own lips … and communications in other ways too, concerning matters only known to him and to myself. Is that sufficient? No;” (she held up a delicate silencing hand) “… no, I will not ask you to take my word. I will ask you to test it for yourself.”
Laurie too leaned forward now in his low chair, his hands clasped between his knees.
“You will—you will let me test it?” he said in a low voice.
She sat back easily, pushing her draperies straight. She was in some fine silk that fell straight from her high slender waist to her copper-colored shoes.
“Listen, Mr. Baxter. Tomorrow there is coming to this house certainly the greatest medium in London, if not in Europe. (Of course we cannot compete with the East. We are only children beside them.) Well, this man, Mr. Vincent—I think I spoke of him to you last week—he is coming here just for a talk to one or two friends. There shall be no difficulty if you wish it. I will speak to Lady Laura before you go.”
Laurie looked at her without moving.
“I shall be very much obliged,” he said. “You will remember that I am not yet in the least convinced? I only want to know.”
“That is exactly the right attitude. That is all we have any right to ask. We do not ask for blind faith, Mr. Baxter—only for
