Mr. Percy and the Prophet, Page 2

  Madame Lagarde briefly explained what had passed.

  The florid gentleman (still privately believing it to be all ‘humbug’) was delighted to make himself of any use. ‘I congratulate you, sir,’ he said, with his easy humour, as he passed the visitor who had become possessed of his card. ‘Number Fourteen seems to be a luckier number in your keeping than it was in mine.

  As he spoke, he took Doctor Lagarde’s disengaged hand. The instant they touched each other, the sleeper started. His voice rose; his face flushed. ‘You are the man!’ he exclaimed. ‘I see you plainly, now!’

  ‘What am I doing?’

  ‘You are standing opposite to the gentleman here who is holding my other hand; and (as I have said already) you have met to fight a duel.’

  The unbeliever cast a shrewd look at his companion in the consultation.

  ‘Considering that you and I are total strangers, sir,’ he said, ‘don’t you think the Doctor had better introduce us, before he goes any farther? We have got to fighting a duel already, and we may as well know who we are, before the pistols go off.’ He turned to Doctor Lagarde. ‘Dramatic situations don’t amuse me out of the theatre,’ he resumed.

  ‘Let me put you to a very commonplace test. I want to be introduced to this gentleman.

  Has he told you his name?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Of course, you know it, without being told?’

  ‘Certainly. I have only to look into your own knowledge of yourselves, while I am in this trance, and while you have got my hands, to know both your names as well as you do.’

  ‘Introduce us, then!’ retorted the jesting gentleman. ‘And take my name first.’

  ‘Mr Percy Linwood,’ replied the Doctor; ‘I have the honour of presenting you to Captain Bervie, of the Artillery.’

  With one accord, the gentlemen both dropped Doctor Lagarde’s hands, and looked at each other in blank amazement.

  ‘Of course he has discovered our names somehow!’ said Mr Percy Linwood, explaining the mystery to his own perfect satisfaction in that way.

  Captain Bervie had not forgotten what Madame Lagarde had said to him, when he too had suspected a trick. He now repeated it (quite ineffectually) for Mr Linwood’s benefit.

  ‘If you don’t feel the force of that argument as I feel it,’ he added, ‘perhaps, as a favour to me, sir, you will not object to our each taking the Doctor’s hand again, and hearing what more he can tell us while he remains in the state of trance?’

  ‘With the greatest pleasure!’ answered good-humoured Mr Linwood. ‘Our friend is beginning to amuse me; I am as anxious as you are to know what he is going to see next.’

  Captain Bervie put the next question.

  ‘You have seen us ready to fight a duel—can you tell us the result?’

  ‘I can tell you nothing more than I have told you already. The figures of the duellists have faded away, like the other figures I saw before them. What I see now looks like the winding gravel-path of a garden. A man and a woman are walking towards me. The man stops, and places a ring on the woman’s finger, and kisses her.’

  Captain Bervie opened his lips to continue his enquiries—turned pale—and checked himself. Mr Linwood put the next question.

  ‘Who is the happy man?’ he asked.

  ‘You are the happy man,’ was the instantaneous reply.

  ‘Who is the woman?’ cried Captain Bervie, before Mr Linwood could speak again.

  ‘The same woman whom I saw before; dressed in the same colour, in pale blue.’

  Captain Bervie positively insisted on receiving clearer information than this.

  ‘Surely you can see something of her personal appearance?’ he said.

  ‘I can see that she has long dark-brown hair, falling below her waist. I can see that she has lovely dark-brown eyes. She has the look of a sensitive nervous person. She is quite young. I can see no more.’

  ‘Look again at the man who is putting the ring on her finger,’ said the Captain. ‘Are you sure that the face you see is the face of Mr Percy Linwood?’

  ‘I am absolutely sure.

  Captain Bervie rose from his chair.

  ‘Thank you, madam,’ he said to the Doctor’s mother. ‘I have heard enough.’

  He walked to the door. Mr Percy Linwood dropped Doctor Lagarde’s hand, and appealed to the retiring Captain with a broad stare of astonishment.

  ‘You don’t really believe this?’ he said.

  ‘I only say I have heard enough,’ Captain Bervie answered.

  Mr Linwood could hardly fail to see that any further attempt to treat the matter lightly might lead to undesirable results.

  ‘It is difficult to speak seriously of this kind of exhibition,’ he resumed quietly. ‘But I suppose I may mention a mere matter of fact, without meaning or giving offence. The description of the lady, I can positively declare, does not apply in any single particular to anyone whom I know.’

  Captain Bervie turned round at the door. His patience was in some danger of failing him. Mr Linwood’s unruffled composure, assisted in its influence by the presence of Madame Lagarde, reminded him of the claims of politeness. He restrained the rash words as they rose to his lips. ‘You may make new acquaintances, sir,’ was all that he said.

  ‘You have the future before you.’

  Upon that, he went out. Percy Linwood waited a little, reflecting on the Captain’s conduct.

  Had Doctor Lagarde’s description of the lady accidentally answered the description of a living lady whom Captain Bervie knew? Was he by any chance in love with her? and had

  the Doctor innocently reminded him that his love was not returned? Assuming this to be likely, was it really possible that he believed in prophetic revelations offered to him under the fantastic influence of a trance? Could any man in the possession of his senses go to those lengths? The Captain’s conduct was simply incomprehensible.

  Pondering these questions, Percy decided on returning to his place by the Doctor’s chair. ‘Of one thing I am certain, at any rate,’ he thought to himself. I’ll see the whole imposture out before I leave the house!’

  He took Doctor Lagarde’s hand. ‘Now, then! what is the next discovery?’ he asked.

  The sleeper seemed to find some difficulty in answering the question.

  ‘I indistinctly see the man and the woman again,’ he said.

  ‘Am I the man still?’ Percy enquired.

  ‘No. The man, this time, is the Captain. The woman is agitated by something that he is saying to her. He seems to be trying to persuade her to go away with him. She hesitates.

  He whispers something in her ear. She yields. He leads her away. The darkness gathers behind them. I look and look, and I can see no more.’

  ‘Shall we wait awhile?’ Percy suggested, ‘and then try again?’

  Doctor Lagarde sighed, and reclined in his chair. ‘My head is heavy,’ he said; ‘my spirits are dull. The darkness baffles me. I have toiled long enough for you. Drop my hand and leave me to rest.’

  Hearing those words, Madame Lagarde approached her son’s chair.

  ‘It will be useless, sir, to ask him any more questions tonight,’ she said. ‘He has been weak and nervous all day, and he is worn out by the effort he has made. Pardon me, if I ask you to step aside for a moment, while I give him the repose that he needs.’

  She laid her right hand gently on the Doctor’s head, and kept it there for a minute or so.

  ‘Are you at rest now?’ she asked.

  ‘I am at rest,’ he answered, in faint drowsy tones.

  Madame Lagarde returned to Percy. ‘If you are not yet satisfied,’ she said, ‘my son will be at your service tomorrow evening, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, madam, I have only one more question to ask, and you can no doubt answer it. When your son wakes, will he remember what he has said to Captain Bervie and to myself?’

  ‘My son will be as absolutely ignorant of everything that he has seen, and of everything that he has said in t
he trance, as if he had been at the other end of the world.’

  Percy Linwood swallowed this last outrageous assertion with an effort which he was quite unable to conceal. ‘Many thanks, madam,’ he said; ‘I wish you good-night.’

  Returning to the waiting-room, he noticed the money-box fixed to the table. ‘These people look poor,’ he thought to himself, ‘and I feel really indebted to them for an amusing evening. Besides, I can afford to be liberal, for I shall certainly never go back.’

  He dropped a five-pound note into the money-box, and left the house.

  Walking towards his club, Percy’s natural serenity of mind was a little troubled by the remembrance of Captain Bervie’s language and conduct. The Captain had interested the young man in spite of himself. His first idea was to write to Bervie, and mention what had happened at the renewed consultation with Doctor Lagarde. On second thoughts, he saw reason to doubt how the Captain might receive such an advance as this, on the part of a stranger. ‘After all,’ Percy decided, ‘the whole thing is too absurd to be worth thinking

  about seriously. Neither he nor I are likely to meet again, or to see the Doctor again—and there’s an end of it.’

  He never was more mistaken in his life. The end of it was not to come for many a long day yet.

  Part Two: The Fulfilment

  V THE BALL-ROOM

  While the consultation at Doctor Lagarde’s was still fresh in the memory of the persons present at it, Chance or Destiny, occupied in sowing the seeds for the harvest of the future, discovered as one of its fit instruments a retired military officer named Major Mulvany.

  The Major was a smart little man, who persisted in setting up the appearance of youth as a means of hiding the reality of fifty. Being still a bachelor, and being always ready to make himself agreeable, he was generally popular in the society of women. In the ballroom he was a really welcome addition to the company. The German waltz had then been imported into England little more than three years since. The outcry raised against the dance, by persons skilled in the discovery of latent impropriety, had not yet lost its influence in certain quarters. Men who could waltz were scarce. The Major had successfully grappled with the difficulties of learning the dance in mature life; and the young ladies rewarded him nobly for the effort. That is to say, they took the assumption of youth for granted in the palpable presence of fifty.

  Knowing everybody and being welcome everywhere, playing a good hand at whist, and having an inexhaustible fancy in the invention of a dinner, Major Mulvany naturally belonged to all the best clubs of his time. Percy Linwood and he constantly met in the billiard-room or at the dinner-table. The Major approved of the easy, handsome, pleasant-tempered young man. ‘I have lost the first freshness of youth,’ he used to say with pathetic resignation, ‘and I see myself revived, as it were, in Percy. Naturally I like Percy.’

  About three weeks after the memorable evening at Doctor Lagarde’s, the two friends encountered each other on the steps of a club.

  ‘Have you got anything to do to-night?’ asked the Major.

  ‘Nothing that I know of,’ said Percy, ‘unless I go to the theatre.’

  ‘Let the theatre wait, my boy. My old regiment gives a ball at Woolwich tonight. I have got a ticket to spare; and I know several sweet girls who are going. Some of them waltz, Percy! Gather your rosebuds while you may. Come with me.’

  The invitation was accepted as readily as it was given. The Major found the carriage, and Percy paid for the post-horses. They entered the ballroom among the earlier guests; and the first person whom they met, waiting near the door, was—Captain Bervie.

  Percy bowed, a little uneasily. ‘I feel some doubt,’ he said, laughing, ‘whether we have been properly introduced to one another or not.’

  ‘Not properly introduced!’ cried Major Mulvany. ‘I’ll soon set that right. My dear friend, Percy Linwood; my dear friend, Arthur Bervie—be known to each other! esteem each other!’

  Captain Bervie acknowledged the introduction by a cold salute. Percy, yielding to the good-natured impulse of the moment, alluded to what had happened in Doctor Lagarde’s consulting-room.

  ‘You missed something worth hearing when you left the Doctor the other night,’ he said. ‘We continued the sitting; and you turned up again among the persons of the drama, in a new character—’

  ‘Excuse me for interrupting you,’ said Captain Bervie. ‘I am a member of the committee, charged with the arrangements of the ball, and I must really attend to my duties.’

  He withdrew without waiting for a reply. Percy looked round wonderingly at Major Mulvany. ‘Strange!’ he said, ‘I feel rather attracted towards Captain Bervie; and he seems to have taken such a dislike to me, that he can hardly behave with common civility. What does it mean?’

  ‘I’ll tell you,’ answered the Major confidentially. ‘Arthur Bervie is madly in love—

  madly is really the word—with a Miss Bowmore. And (this is between ourselves) the young lady doesn’t feel it quite in the same way. A sweet girl; I’ve often had her on my knee when she was a child. Her father and mother are old friends of mine. She is coming to the ball tonight. That’s the true reason why Arthur left you just now. Look at him—

  waiting to be the first to speak to her. If he could have his way, he wouldn’t let another man come near the poor girl all through the evening; he really persecutes her. I’ll introduce you to Miss Bowmore; and you will see how he looks at us for presuming to approach her. It’s a great pity; she will never marry him. Arthur Bervie is a man in a thousand; but he’s fast becoming a perfect bear under the strain on his temper. What’s the matter? You don’t seem to be listening to me.

  This last remark was perfectly justified. In telling the Captain’s love-story, Major Mulvany had revived his young friend’s memory of the lady in the blue dress, who had haunted the visions of Doctor Lagarde.

  ‘Tell me,’ said Percy, ‘what is Miss Bowmore like? Is there anything remarkable in her personal appearance? I have a reason for asking.’

  As he spoke, there arose among the guests in the rapidly-filling ballroom a low murmur of surprise and admiration. The Major laid one hand on Percy’s shoulder, and, lifting the other, pointed to the door.

  ‘What is Miss Bowmore like?’ he repeated. ‘There she is! Let her answer for herself.’

  Percy turned towards the lower end of the room.

  A young lady was entering, dressed in plain silk, and the colour of it was a pale blue!

  Excepting a white rose at her breast, she wore no ornament of any sort. Doubly distinguished by the perfect simplicity of her apparel, and by her tall, supple, commanding figure, she took rank at once as the most remarkable woman in the room.

  Moving nearer to her through the crowd, under the guidance of the complaisant Major, young Linwood gained a clearer view of her hair, her complexion, and the colour of her eyes. In every one of these particulars, she was the living image of the woman described by Doctor Lagarde!

  While Percy was absorbed over this strange discovery, Major Mulvany had got within speaking distance of the young lady and of her mother, as they stood together in conversation with Captain Bervie. ‘My dear Mrs Bowmore, how well you are looking!

  My dear Miss Charlotte, what a sensation you have made already! The glorious simplicity (if I may so express myself) of your dress is—is—what was I going to say?—

  the ideas come thronging on me; I merely want words.’

  Miss Bowmore’s magnificent brown eyes, wandering from the Major to Percy, rested on the young man with a modest and momentary interest, which Captain Bervie’s jealous attention instantly detected.

  ‘They are forming a dance,’ he said, pressing forward impatiently to claim his partner.

  ‘If we don’t take our places, we shall be too late.’

  ‘Stop! stop!’ cried the Major. ‘There is a time for everything, and this is the time for presenting my dear friend here, Mr Percy Linwood. He is like me, Miss Charlotte—he has been s
truck by your glorious simplicity, and he wants words.’ At this part of the presentation, he happened to look toward the irate Captain, and instantly gave him a hint on the subject of his temper.

  ‘I say, Arthur Bervie! we are all good-humoured people here. What have you got on your eyebrows? It looks like a frown; and it doesn’t become you. Send for a skilled waiter, and have it brushed off and taken away directly!’

  ‘May I ask, Miss Bowmore, if you are disengaged for the next dance?’ said Percy, the moment the Major gave him an opportunity of speaking.

  ‘Miss Bowmore is engaged to me for the next dance,’ said the angry Captain, before the young lady could answer.

  ‘The third dance, then?’ Percy persisted, with his brightest smile.

  ‘With pleasure, Mr Linwood,’ said Miss Bowmore. She would have been no true woman if she had not resented the open exhibition of Arthur’s jealousy; it was like asserting a right over her to which he had not the shadow of a claim. She threw a look at Percy as her partner led her away, which was the severest punishment she could inflict on the man who ardently loved her.

  The third dance stood in the programme as a waltz.

  In jealous distrust of Percy, the Captain took the conductor of the band aside, and used his authority as committeeman to substitute another dance. He had no sooner turned his back on the orchestra than the wife of the Colonel of the regiment, who had heard him, spoke to the conductor in her turn, and insisted on the original programme being retained.

  ‘Quote the Colonel’s authority,’ said the lady, ‘if Captain Bervie ventures to object.’ In the meantime, the Captain, on his way to rejoin Charlotte, was met by one of his brother officers, who summoned him officially to an impending debate of the committee charged with the administrative arrangements of the supper-table.

  Bervie had no choice but to follow his brother officer to the committee-room.

  Barely a minute later the conductor appeared at his desk, and the first notes of the music rose low and plaintive, introducing the third dance.