Part 2

"Before I had known the girl a week I was able, as far as she was concerned, to overcome this obstacle, and to tell with certainty whenever any thought of hers passed involuntarily through my mind. In the same way when meeting her at dinner, among other people, I was equally certain that the impression was a correct one if it came from her; and this knowledge was a great assistance, enabling me, as it were, to take the first step towards localizing the direction from which thought was transmitted.

"One evening after dinner I was sitting alone with Vera Soudin; her mother had not been well enough to come down to dinner, and the other men had retired to the billiard-room. The light from the candles was overpowered by the brightness of the fire, and as she leant back, this ruddy glow gave an additional attraction to the delicate beauty of her face. I forgot for the moment all about my new power, and sat looking at her without speaking, the whole force of my will unconsciously exercised in a desire to gain her love. She sat silent, gazing at the burning logs as though unconscious of my presence. Then I recognized an inaudible voice speaking. I use the words 'voice' and 'speaking' because as yet our language is too imperfect to express any sensations connected with the sixth sense. The sentence was, however, unmistakable.

"'_I love him._'

"I answered her aloud. 'Why do you?'

"Her face flushed and then lost all colour save what the firelight cast there. 'Why do I what?' she stammered.

"I cared for her too much to press my advantage. 'I love you!' I said, and getting up I went over and knelt by her side; then looking into her eyes I saw an expression that I had never seen before.

"What man who has once been brought under this influence could ever forget it--man's passion reflected upon woman's nature, the idealized counterpart of his sensations revealed on the idol of worship? In a moment such as this, reason is trampled under the feet of a hundred new emotions, hurrying forward to find expression, and the man's action will be determined by natural instincts, and not, as is more often the case, by the training and habits which have moulded them. During such times of intoxication we become for once natural; and as all men tend by nature, if on a lower plane, to idiocy, if on a higher to madness, such moments are best kept private. An observer missing the more delicate atmosphere of pathos which ever surrounds a truly comic situation, is apt to rest his own instability more on the stick of ridicule than the crutch of pity.

"As, however, owing to the power which I have of reading other people's thoughts of myself, my nature has become impervious to scorn; and as it is better that you should have the opportunity of judging my actions impartially, I will throw off reserve as far as possible.

"We remained much in the same attitude for an indefinite period of sensations, which may probably have extended to thirty minutes, her hands clasped in mine as we talked together. As far as I can remember, the conversation rested principally with me, and her answers came back chiefly in unspoken thoughts. I will endeavour to give you an idea of what passed between us, audibly and inaudibly.

"'Beloved,' I said, 'is it possible that you can care for me? That what I have longed for, dreamed of, and despaired of ever attaining, is at last mine? I cannot realize it! I feel rather that I am in a trance, surrounded by a confusing, yet delightful mist.'

"'_I love you_.'

"'Say it again out loud that I can hear.'

"'I love you.'

"'But why--tell me why?'

"'I don't know. Why do you love me? I cannot see that there can be anything to love in me. I suppose it is only because I am pretty!'

"'Beauty is only a veil which the soul looks through; how perfect then must be your soul, dearest!'

"Then came these unspoken words which puzzled me--

"'_What queer things men are!--but I like to hear him, and perhaps it is true; but if so, how horrid most women must be!_' Then out loud--'_I fancy you will soon get tired of me._'

"'Tired! It makes me mad when I think of ever having an opportunity of getting tired--to have you with me always--to know that we can never be parted--to feel that death itself will only bring us closer: I almost wish that we could die now, for such great happiness makes me afraid something may come. Oh, Vera! you will always love me?'

"'Of course, dear!'

"Then this thought followed--

"'_I wish he would not talk about death; I hate death, I don't want to die. It is quite nice enough to be here having some one loving and petting me, without thinking about the future. I wonder if he is going to kiss me? I thought men always kissed girls when they proposed to them!_'

"This was enough for me. I had been afraid to venture on what seemed so great a liberty, but now I moved forward and was about to kiss her, when to my surprise she drew away saying--

"'Oh, don't! You frighten me!'

"'Why, dearest, you cannot be afraid of me? Will you not let me have just one when you know how I should prize it!'

"'No, I cannot really, not yet anyway; perhaps some day!'

"I was so afraid of offending her that I moved back, puzzled and discomfited, when once again I was conscious she was thinking.

"'_How foolish he is!--it would have been much nicer to have been forced to give him one; he is so strong he could easily have held me back in the chair and made me do it._'

"This came as a whip for my inclinations, and I did as suggested under a storm of protests which soon died down, for I now found her thoughts were wandering between the condition of her hair and the probability of some one coming in from the billiard-room.

"I think I have now described sufficiently our first moments of happiness, but I will own that before we were eventually disturbed I had begun to get not a little annoyed with my new power of perception, and began to wonder if after all we had arrived at a sufficient state of perfection to be always happily employed when using it.

"The next half-hour which I spent with Vera's father convinced me that often it might be useful in the cause of humility.

"I asked to speak with him alone, a request that he readily granted, though, if I interpreted his thoughts aright, he used strong language internally. I felt horribly nervous, and at first he did nothing to help me, but what was far worse, he kept on transmitting thoughts that made me every moment more wretched and uncomfortable; they must have been his, as I feel sure they would never otherwise have occurred to me as being likely to proceed from the smiling old gentleman sitting opposite. This is something of what I made out of them, but they were disjointed and confused, for you must remember I had not as yet had an opportunity of studying him as perfectly as his daughter.

"'_Confound it! I wish he had not been in such a hurry. I must delay things in some way. I meant to make inquiries, but have been so busy. Besides there is ... coming, and I quite fancy that when he sees her, he ... But after all, Sydney is an only son; I did find that out, and I must not choke him off. I wonder how much longer he will stand there like a fool and say nothing!_'

"You may well imagine that this kind of thing was hardly helpful to me. I began at once to wonder who my rival might be. And here I may as well mention that even now, when my thought-reading power has been developed very nearly to perfection, I can seldom read the name of a person passing through another's mind, unless that person is also known to me. This is probably owing to the fact that in thinking of an acquaintance we disregard usually the name and are conscious only of the individuality, for in the few cases when I have had a name conveyed distinctly, it has been where the person referred to was comparatively a stranger to the one whose thoughts I was studying.

"The silence was eventually broken by Mr. Soudin.

"'You wish to speak to me. I hope that you know me well enough to be certain that if there is any service I can do for you I shall be delighted!'

"'It is more than an ordinary service,' I answered. 'I wish to take from you your greatest treasure, and consequently you must excuse my embarrassment in asking. I love your daughter, and would beg her from you.'

"'_Young ass! Now he has once started he talks like a book bound in morocco with gilt edges_,' was his thought. His words--'You have taken me greatly by surprise, Mr. Sydney. I have always looked upon my daughter as a child, and it would be quite impossible for me to think of allowing her at present to be disturbed by any question of marriage. Hers is a sweet and delicate nature, influenced as yet but by the dreams of childhood. I trust that nothing you have said to her can possibly have ruffled the calm of innocence.'

"At this point I should have been placed in a position of difficulty had not his thoughts continued--

"'_I would stake twenty to one the young cub has been sitting spooning for the last half-hour. I wonder how he will try to get out of it._'

"I did not, therefore, try at all, but quietly told him the fact, ignoring, however, the details. His anger was so well assumed, that whilst it lasted his thoughts almost followed his words, or else the latter so upset me that I missed the accompanying reflections.

"'It was, he said, a most unpardonable action thus to take advantage of an innocent child who, he felt quite certain, had not even realized the very meaning of the situation, etc., etc.'

"At last he cooled down a little, and when this happened, his thoughts and words became mixed up in my mind somewhat in the following manner. 'You must realize, Mr. Sydney, that in speaking to you in this manner, I am actuated by no unfriendly feeling--_it would be unwise to go too far_--Personally from what I have seen of you, there are few young men whom I could welcome more cordially into my family--_If only I were certain that he possessed a safe five thousand a year_--But she is too young, and I am quite sure that you will agree with me when you think it over in a calmer mood, that it would be unfair to bind my daughter to an engagement before she is fairly out of the nursery--_That ought to smooth him down and keep up the romance at the same time. I must have a good talk with Vera and see what is best to be done. I feel certain that I shall have indigestion to-night. It always upsets me having to think and bother about things after dinner._'

"I eventually agreed not to see Vera for a week, and at the end of that time I was to be granted another interview with her father for the purpose of arriving at some plan for the future.

"My feelings were of a mixed character as I walked away from the house over the crisp, frozen ground. I felt excited, but neither satisfied nor happy. I had tasted the sweets of love, and a little of the acidity of disenchantment. I began to meditate somewhat after this fashion. How lovely she looked with that expression on her face as I knelt down by her side and took her hands in mine. 'Is it possible that the physiognomists are correct when they tell us that the eye never changes, and that the eyelids alone work those miracles of varying expression; that a few slight wrinkles can convey such a world of meaning, and have often the power to change the destiny of thousands? Is it not more probable that some subtle influence passes from eye to eye that no scientist can detect, owing to the fact that as yet science confines its observations only to those influences which are discernible by animal sense organs? But, whatever the cause, the fact is most remarkable, and one must needs have loved to realize the full significance of its power.' However, I did not, after all, feel satisfied that I had awakened quite the same feeling in Vera as that which I myself experienced, and I began to think of another partially developed power which Descartes attributes to this sixth sense, and to which I have not hitherto referred.

"He maintains that the will-force is always unconsciously transmitted, and that if this power were cultivated it would lead to surprising results. We can now have no doubt that his theory is partially correct, as it has been satisfactorily demonstrated through recent experiments in hypnotism; but his views also convince me that the modern methods which have been adopted for the transmission of this will-power are likely to prove both dangerous and inadequate, as they are based on totally false premises. As, however, I shall have occasion to go into all this matter more fully later on, as well as to show you the light which Descartes throws on theosophy, spiritualism, and many other modern mysteries, I shall only refer now to the subject so far as I find it necessary in order to make my story intelligible.

"The probability that this theory of transmitted will-power might have been experimentally proved in my late interview with Vera sent a shock of anxiety to my heart. What if after all she had been little better than a semi-conscious mirror reflecting my newly-awakened sensations? I argued, however, against my fear, that it could not be so, for I had read in her thoughts sensations not only differing from my own, but even foreign to a man's inclinations. Yet even as I recalled these instances with relief, a passage from Descartes flashed through my mind which brought a painful reaction.

"'It must not be supposed,' he writes, 'that the will-power, however strong, can absolutely take possession of an alien mind. A person of tender susceptibility cannot be induced to commit a murder, or a man of brutal instinct be made, even for the time being, pure or lovable. That part of the brain on which the will either of ourselves or others is brought to bear, may be compared to a musical instrument on which this force plays. A tune may be the same whether practised on a pipe or upon a full organ, but there will be a considerable difference in the effect produced, owing to the numerous variations, etc. of which the more complex instrument is capable; so also on different natures a similar impulse will produce totally different results. This difference of effect is most noticeable in the actions of men and women who, if willed by one influence, often act dissimilarly, singing, as it were, the same melody to an accompanying music which flows forth from their complex dispositions and sensibilities.'

"Having by this and similar reflections thoroughly unsettled my belief, not only in the girl I loved, but in myself and in nearly everything else, I went to bed wretched, and after tossing about for some hours, at last fell into a troubled sleep, during which I had the following rather curious dream.

"It seemed that I was walking hurriedly along a winding path, though for what purpose, or whither, I thus hastened was hidden. On my left, through its setting of ferns and pleasant flowers, there flowed a stream, the waters of which cast back many fair reflections; yet so great was my wish to gain some unknown object, that I was scarcely conscious of the beauty around. As I turned a corner, however, I saw across my path an object lying, and coming nearer found it to be a woman; the face turned upwards bore all the traces of degradation which dissipation and misery had engraved upon the image of one who in youth might have been beautiful. My feelings, supersensitive to the slightest coarseness, revolted at the spectacle before me, and crushing through the undergrowth which grew beside my path, I strove to avoid getting in closer contact with it, but I had not gone many paces forward before I became hopelessly entangled. Then looking round I noticed an old man standing near, who it seemed must have followed me unobserved. His hair was of silvery whiteness, and though his face was lined with age, each furrow seemed but the imprint of an habitual expression of kindliness. He might have stood as a sculptor's model for love that has outlived passion.

"'Why have you wandered from the path?' he said. 'It is not possible for man to reach the place whither you are bound save by the way appointed.'

"'But,' I answered, 'He who called me is pure, and in the footpath lies that which is abhorrent both to my Master and to me.'

"'Who then is thy master?' he asked.

"Then I looked at him in surprise and said--

"'We have but one Master; He who ruleth all things, and is Father of all.'

"'And it is one of His beloved children,' he said, 'from whom you turn aside, and her weakness and your strength are of His ordering; and you whom He has made on a different, though no higher plan, turn in pride from your sister who has been placed in the path so that your strength may support her weakness.'

"'Now,' I replied, 'you speak blasphemy, for God is not the Father of sin, and what is sinful is unpleasing in His sight.'

"Then my companion, looking fixedly at me, said--

"'There is no sin. Viewed from the eye of wisdom and holiness there is one law--Love; one path--Order; and one state--Happiness. Man is permitted to dream of freedom, which he calls life; is allowed to dip into the darkness, and, for the moment, to imagine discord exists, that when he shall awaken his joy may be exceeding joyful. It has been left to man to give names to nothing and to fight the phantoms of negation; when his sleep shall be broken the former things will have passed away. Follow me.'

"So we returned together to the path, and as we stood before the woman I said, 'If this is but a dream, wherefore should I care what happens either to the woman or myself?' Then it seemed that the man did not answer, but I heard a voice singing. And the song was of love, and told how the slumber of life could never be broken till the light of unselfish love fell upon the sleeper.

"When the voice ceased, I turned and said to my companion--'What can I do for the woman? Behold her, as she lies there. It seems impossible for me to feel more than helpless compassion for such a one.'

"'Compassion and pity,' he answered, 'are words coined by man, and are associated at best but with a gleam of love, and more often with nothing but a selfish desire to hide pain from sight because it reminds man of that which is hateful. Love will ever find a way to helpfulness.'

"'But,' I said to him, 'I cannot feel this love to one so degraded.'

"Then he bent over the woman, and touched her with his hand; and as I looked down wondering, the degraded face seemed changed into the face of the girl I loved. And in the horror of the revelation I awoke, thankful to believe that it was but a dream! How many lessons, prophecies, and warnings come to men, if they did but realize it, in certain forms called dreams!

"When I got up on the following morning my mind was in that anxious and restless condition in which it usually finds itself after being too busily occupied during the hours of slumber. I felt depressed and irritable, consequently my view of everything was one-sided. My thoughts continually expressed themselves in doggerel verse instead of moving along smoothly and quietly in prose. This, I have always noticed, is a sign that my body requires some stimulating exercise. Moreover, every picture that reached my mind had a dark and unpleasant background. For instance, when my thoughts for relief turned to Vera's face, I had scarcely begun to dwell with pleasure on the beauty of some remembered expression before I became conscious that the woman of my dream was grinning at me over the girl's shoulder.

"This way, I knew, led to madness; so conscious that the body, if ill-used, becomes too often the master of the mind, I decided to give it a day's pleasure, tempting it back thereby into a condition of happy servitude.

"The result was in every way satisfactory. After two hours' walking over the moors, I was able to laugh at my fears, and by lunch-time it was even a trouble to recall them. At dinner nothing seemed more important in life than perfect accuracy of aim, and my friends might easily have mistaken me for a sportomaniac by my conversation. The only thought I read that evening came, I believe, from my host, and took the form of regret that he had not selected a better shot than myself for the sake of the game returns which he intended to forward to _The Field_, and considering the number of birds which my nerves had succeeded in missing for me during the morning, I could not feel surprised. My dreams during the night did not trouble me. I felt but a momentary discomfiture even when the youth who was expected to fall in love with Vera rose up with a whirr just under my feet, and in the flurry of the moment I only succeeded in knocking a few feathers out of his coat-tail.

"On the second day, therefore, after my proposal, I felt in a safe mental condition to think rationally over the prospect before me, and as I can always reason more quietly when walking and in the open air, I went for a stroll by myself over the moors.

"The day was bright, and the wind blew softly from the south-west. I felt that life was very good as I passed over the heather. Presently, however, a wounded bird which was lying by the side of the footpath upset my train of thought, and set me on a discussion of cruelty which I began to argue out from both sides. The impression which I arrived at, after wasting fully an hour, may be summed up as follows: that about an equal amount can be urged for and against sport, and that there is something wrong somewhere. Nearly every subject we approach seems beset with like difficulty, owing to the fact that our life is not as yet sufficiently under the rule of order to embrace, without causing additional misery, the doctrine of perfection. For instance, war can easily be shown to be unjustifiable, and socialism to be the only form of perfect justice; but it is equally clear that the abolition of armaments and the adoption of socialistic principles would lead to the greatest misery that has ever been experienced on earth, if they should be tried before men have learnt to control their evil passions without the whip of legal and military chastisement. Birds of prey and moral disease would quickly take the place of the fowling-pieces of modern civilization, whilst the dream of Paradise would be found more to resemble a nightmare, and the comparative peace of the past would be transformed into a pandemonium of unbridled passions.

"At last, after a few more fruitless attempts, I managed to fix my mind on the condition of my own prospects. Firstly, was I in love? And this involved settling in my mind what love really meant. If not, what had caused in me certain sensations never before experienced? Secondly, if this love existed, was it returned? It is not necessary for you to follow me through my subsequent confused circle of reasoning, as it led to no satisfactory conclusion beyond a determination to watch for further light, and in the meantime to follow the dictates of inclination. It is always easy to do the latter, and unless a man's nature inclines strongly to selfishness, it is often the wisest course to adopt. Progress is often hindered by self-repression, and even more by self-analysis.