Mliss :: :: University of Virginia Library

Three weeks had passed since the disappearance
of Mliss. The search had proved fruitless
The only intelligence received of her was that
written in magnetic characters on Mrs. Rhodes's
table. This intelligence was corroborated to an
extent by the fact that the bark “Sea Nymph”
had cleared for New York the day after the evening
on which Mliss was spirited away. This, however,
was only a partial corroboration, as in case
the evidence was manufactured, the parties
would naturally provide against positive refutation.

Mr. Gray missed his little friend and pupil
sadly. He did not realize how dear she had become
until he had lost her. If he could have
known that she was in any designated spot in
any part of the globe, he would have gone to her
at whatever sacrifice

But the fact of her disappearance was yet to
assume a deeper shade of mystery. The morning
papers had one of their periodical horrors.
The body of a young girl had been found in the
bay in an advanced state of decomposition. The
story was told in the thrilling terms usually
employed by ambitious reporters who
write with the consciousness that the
same basis of facts is being used by a rival reporter in
a rival newspaper. Divested of exaggeration, the
facts were these: The second night previous, a sailor
had lowered himself from a vessel lying in the harbor,
and undertaken to swim ashore. He was not discovered
until a third of the distance was accomplished,
and then boats were sent in pursuit. The boats did
not find him nor was he seen to land. The presumption
was, that he sank in the waters of the bay. The
next day the bottom of the bay was dragged in the
vicinity, and the body of a young girl, apoarently fifteen
or sixteen years of age, was brought to the surface.
A bar of iron was attached to the body by a
cord tied round its neck. Other than this there were
no wounds. The face was eaten and otherwise lacerated
past recognition. It was thought the body must
have been in the water ten or twelve days.

Such, with the thrilling bits of description left out,
was the account Mr. Gray read one morning at breakfast.
He went without loss of time to see the body.
It seemed to him the body of an older girl than Mliss,
but the condition of the body prevented anything like
an accurate judgment as to her age. If full grown
she was much under size. Medical opinions afterwards
agreed that it was not the body of a mature
woman. She might have been from twelve to sixteen
years of age. Her hair was long and black, her teeth
even and white. Mliss was the only girl known to be
missing. Mliss had long blak hair and white, even
teeth.

Mrs. Smith, Mr. Hopp and Mr. Gray held a friendly
consultation, and it was agreed to claim the body and
give it burial. No other claimants appeared, and it
was given to them.

Was this, indeed, all of Mliss? Had the life commenced
in sadness, continued in storm, with fitful
glimpses of sunshine here and there, come to so early
and so sad an end?

Mrs. Smith believed or affected to believe that the
body was that of Mliss. Her grief was manifested in a
quiet, ladylike manner. She wept softly during the
funeral prayer, and kept her face buried in her handkerchief
until the redness about her eyes had disappeared.

Mr. Gray was at a loss what course to pursue. He
had no doubt in his own mind that Mrs. Smith had
caused Mliss to be taken from the home he had provided
for her. He had, however, no evidence that
would fasten the act upon her in a court of law.
Waters had disappeared, O'Neil, if there was such a
person, had likewise disappeared. Jake's admission
of his complicity could not be used against himself,
nor could he be relied upon as a witness against his
principal,

A day or two after the funeral, Mr. Gray paid a
second visit to Mrs. Rhodes. Regina accompanied
him, as before,”

Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes received their visitors with
great cordiality.

“We were expecting you,” said the lady; “Mr.
Shaw and Mr. Smith said you would come.”

The room was darkened, and soon the electrical lights
began to play on the table. At least, Mrs. Rhodes said
they did, though neither Regina nor Mr. Gray could
see them.

At last the lady began to read.

“How—is—my—little—princess to-night?”

“It is papa,” said Regina; “is it you, papa!”

“Yes. Do you not feel that I am near you?”

“I believe you are, but I cannot see you nor feel
you.”

“But I can see you. I see you every day. You are
not so happy as you were.”

“How can I be? Are you not away?”

“You must not mourn for me. I am
better here than I could be in the body. I
watch over you and desire your happiness.”

“Have you seen Mliss yet?”

“No. Mliss is not what you call dead. She is on
her way to Valparaiso.”

“Have you seen her yourself?”

“I have not. I am not attracted toward her, and we
cannot always go of our own will. But her father
sees her every day.”

“Then the young girl that was found in the
bay—”

“We do not know who that young girl was, but it
was not Mliss.”

“Is Mliss's father with you to-night?”

“Yes. He will write in a moment. I want to ask
you about Janet.”

“Janet is going to leave us.”

“I know she is. What reason did she give?”

“She is going to be married.”

“What do you think, Mr. Gray?”

“I hope she may be married.”

“Are you satisfied, now, that what I told you about
Janet is correct?”

“Perfectly satisfied.”

“But you are not satisfied as to the source of th
information?”

“I admit I am not.”

“You do not believe that I am Reuben Shaw?”

“I do not say you are not. I say, simply, that I do
not know that you are.”

“It is better, perhaps, that you are slow to believe.
If you knew, positively, that Mliss was on her way to
Valparaiso, what would you do?”

“I should go there as fast as steam could carry
me.”

“I know you would. But it would not serve Mliss
in the least. She is in no danger unless pursuit is
made. O'Neil will keep her out of the United States
until she consents to marry him. He thinks, then,
that he will be the absolute master of her property.”

“But a marriage with such a man is worse than
death.”

“Perhaps, Many things are worse than death. But
you cannot help her in the least by going in pursuit of
her.. Besides, you are wanted here.”

“For anything in particular?”

“For many things. Regie wants you to protect her
from Mr. Hopp.”

“O papa! I have no claim upon Mr. Gray.”

“Why do you encourage Mr. Hopp?”

“I do not encourage him.”

“He calls to see you almost every day.”

“He always has some excuse.”

“Yes; to bring you a bouquet, or take you out to
ride. I know Hopp. He will not propose again until
he has you so compromised that you cannot refuse
him.”

“He cannot do that.”

“I am not sure, Regie. It is my fault that you are
not independent. I shall do all I can to protect you,
but we need human agencies. Do you like Mr.
Hopp?”

“I like him better than I did.”

“Why do you like him better?”

“He is more considerate. He acts more as a
friend.”

“A change of tactic. Don't be deceived. Mr.
Hopp would not make a bad husband, but I don't
want you to be forced to marry him. I will now give
way to Mr. Smith, who wants to speak to Mr. Gray.”

The electrical lights flickered and disappeared.
After a moment they again began to play, and soon
resolved into the letters, as described by the medium.
“John Smith,” in bold round characters. The medium
read:

“I am the father of Mliss Smith. I want to speak
to the master.”

“Give me some token that I may know you are the
father of Mliss,” said Mr. Gray.

“I never spoke to you in my life. I know you was
kind to little Mliss when she had no other friends. I
was a miserable drunkard, but sometimes my heart
bled for my unhappy child. If I had not been
killed just when I was, I should have taken you
to my Pocket and told you to keep it for Mliss. I
didn't need the money. I only wanted it for her.”

“Do you know who shot you?”

“The man you know as Waters. He is the man
that run off with my brother's wife.”

“Are they married?”

“They are not. My brother got a divorce, but she
did not marry Waters.”

“Can you furnish any evidence by which I can
prove that Mrs. Smith was not your wife?”

“My brother James can prove it.”

“Where is your brother James?”

“In Idabo.”

“Can you communicate with him?”

“He does not know that I can, but I hope to influence
him to come to San Francisco.”

“Perhaps it would be safer if you describe his locality,
as nearly as possible, that I may send for him.”

“He is not located at all. He is prospecting. Sometimes
he works a week in one place, and if he finds
nothing to suit, he packs up his traps and starts.

“An advertisement in an Idaho newspaper might
attract his attention.”

“Not likely. He isn't much of a newspaper reader.
Would rather have a game of `draw' any day.”

“Can you see Mliss?”

“I see her every day. She is unhappy to be separated
from you, but is not despondent. She has not
been ill-treated. All O'Neil wants is to make her marry
him.”

“What kind of man is this O'Neil?”

“He is a third-rate gambler, and one of Mrs. James
Smith's many friends.”

“Did you know Mrs. James Smith in life?”

“Yes.”

“Can you see her now?”

“When I want to. She is very busy just now.”

“What is she doing?”

“Fooling that preacher's son.”

“What preacher's son?”

“She calls him her Joseph.”

“Is it Joseph Fox?” asked Regina.

“Don't know. Never heard his last name. Know
his father is a preacher, and that she calls him Joseph.”

“Have you any advice to give me in regard to your
daughter?”

“Not just now. Don't give her up. Come here a
month from to-day and I will try to have news from
my brother.”

“Well, then, if you have nothing more to say, good-night.”

“Good-night. A month from to-day.”

The play of the lights ceased.

“This is really very extraordinary,” said Mr. Gray.

“Extraordinary,” replied Mr. Rhodes, “until you
admit that John Smith and every other Smith lives after
what we call death, and has the power of communicating
with people on earth. Is there anything in their
communicating that would be extraordinary if these
facts were admitted?”

“Nothing; on the contrary, he talks very much as
John Smith would be likely to talk. But this assumption
that spirits may and do communicate with man
is in itself extraordinary. Our history goes back four
thousand years, and in that time men have never been
called upon to believe that they could converse with
those they regard as dead.”

“Let us admit this to be true. During these four

thousand years, until within the last twenty five years
men have not been asked to believe that a resident of
one city could converse with a resident of another city,
thousands of miles away. Yet we know now what they
do.”

Then ensued a discussion which had been going on
in various forms and through various channels for
twenty years, and which is going on yet, without any
immediate promise of satisfactory conclusions. Mr.
Rhodes was positive and intelligent, Mr. Grey strong
in skepticism and adroit in argument. Neither convinced
the other, though each gained the other's respect.

During their walk home, Mr. Gray and Regina continued
the discussion. More impressionable than her
companion, and less fixed in her ideas, Regina was inclined
to accept the strange doctrine as being almose
established. She could not account for the languagt
and expression of the intelligence which claimed to be
her father, unless it was really he. The old pet name
which he had given her in childhood, but which he
rarely used of late, would hardly have occurred to another.
And then his solicitude in regard to herself,
his knowledge of Mrs. Hopp's attentions, were
confirmations to her mind, as strong as proofs of holy
writ.

But Mr. Gray bewildered her with his irony and the
sophistry of his arguments. He descended to ridicule
the adherents of that faith, forgetting that ridicule o
a follower could not demolish a theory. He showed
how it would be inconvenient to have ghosts with eyes
and ears prowling about our houses, paying no respect
to doors secured with bars and bolts. People
who lived on earth and were subject to the laws that
govern our physical being, had a right to protest
against any such invasion of their privacy. It might
not at all times be convenient to entertain a ghost,
even of respectable antecedents, and it certainly was
unfair for ghosts to step in without saluting host or
hostess, especially as they might go away and publish
an account of their visit. He did not question the
sincericy of Mr. and Mrs. Rhodes, but for the presen
he must regard them as innocent victims of a delusion.

“But,” Regina answered, “how could any one but
papa knew that I had told him to bring you to dine
with us?”

“I admit,” replied the lawver, “I cannot explain
that. There are a good many mysteries in nature we
cannot solve. Neither is it necessary to accept the
solution another offers, because you cannot prove it
incorrect.”

Regina had great respect for Mr. Gray's intelligence.
From looking down upon him as the protege
of her father, she had gradually come to look
up to him as the guide and protector of herself. His
success in a profession which was crowded with the
best minds of the day, had served to enhance the admiration
his personal qualities awakened. If he had
failed with the world she might have distrusted her
own favorable estimate of his abilities; but fortunately
the little portion of the world that had taken the
trouble to estimate him at all, had pronounced in his
favor.

Satirists represent woman as clinging with exaggerating
tenacity to an opinion once formed, even
when shown that it is erroneous. Satirists are generally
willfully wrong in their estimate of women, and
never more so than in this respect. Women are not
tenacious of opinions when opinions are combatted
by men in whom they believe. The average woman
has an instinctive conviction that her opinion on matters
of moment are not worth a straw. She does not
admit this disparaging estimate of herself when in the
heat of argument, but she does when the heat of argument
has passed. Very often she changes her
opinion in a day, with no other reason for the change
than a chance word from some man in whose judgment
she has implicit faith. And every woman knows
such a man. He may be her father, her husband, her
brother, her lover, or some dear friend, but in some
relation the man exists.

To Regina, Mr. Gray was this man. She had an
idea that he possessed the faculty of being always
right. Her father had been this man while her father
lived, and her father had always told her to believe in
Mr. Gray. Mr. Gray had justified her father's estimate
of her character. He was equal to every
emergency in which he had been placed. She had
studied him with a woman's instinctive eye, and had
not yet detected the weak point in his nature. She
inferred, therefore, that there was no weak point to
detect. Mr. Gray now very adroitly presented such
objections to the spiritualistic theory as would be most
likely to produce an effect on a mind like hers, and his
arguments bewildered if they did not convince. If he
considered the evidence they had just received as insufficient,
it was rash in her to accept it as conclusive.

In the days that followed, Mr. Hopp gradually came
into prominence as a friend of the Shaw family. Mr.
Hopp did not appear openly as a suitor, but as a friend
as much of Mrs. Shaw as of Regina. Mrs. Shaw had
not liked Mr. Hopp during her husband's life, but he
appeared now as a possible resource against the influence
of Mr. Gray. Since the little episode in which
Mliss had figured with characteristic prominence,
Mrs. Shaw had conceived a distrust of Mr. Gray. This
distrust was intensified by the distrust of the Rev.
Mr. Fox. The latter gentleman, as the reader knows,
was the man in whom Mrs. Shaw believed. In matters
of opinion he had taken the place of her husband.
He was her spiritual guide and counsclor. He was
also something of a man of the world, and was supposed
to know men. Dr. Fox made no concealment
of his opinion of Mr. Gray. He regarded that gentleman
as a dangerous character. He was sincere in this
opinion, for he got it from Mrs. Smith. That lady
had hinted in her persuasive way of irregularities at
Red Mountain. Mr. Gray had left that locality suddenly,
and without known cause. There was a Miss
Morpher with whom he had been seen on a moonlight
night in affectionate converse. Miss Morpher was
pretty, and a fool; Mr. Gray a young man, and sly.
She hoped there was no real reason for his sudden departure,
but Miss Morpher had taken it much to heart.
Mr. Gray was not, perhaps, to be blamed, as Miss Morpher
was very pretty, and girls were expected to look
out for themselves.

These innuendoes, which at length reached Mrs.
Shaw's ears, excited that excellent lady's apprehension

100

She reflected that Regina was now practically without
a male protector. Bob could be relied on
as an avenger of any wrong that might
be done her, but as an adviser and
protector he was not a success. And Bob had strangely
yielded to Mr. Gray's quiet strength of will and
was but putty in Mr. Gray's skillful hands. A kind of
web was seemingly being wound around Regina, from
which there was no sure escape but matrimony. Mr.
Hopp was matrimontally inclined. Mr. Hopp was a
substantial man in the enjoyment of a handsome income.
Mr. Hopp loved Regina, and would renew his
offer of his heart and hand on the slightest encouragement.
Mr. Hopp was not, therefore, in the present
situation of affairs, a person against whom a prudent
mother should close her doors. Mr. Hopp had not
Mr. Gray's grace of person, but his intentions were
honorable and his position in society entirely satisfactory.

With singular passiveness, Regina yielded to her
mother's representations and received Hopp graciously.
Gradually, and perhaps intentionally, she let him
come between Mr. Gray and herself. When Mr. Gray
called he found Mr. Hopp in the parlor. When Mr.
Gray proposed a visit to the theatre or a drive out of
town, Regina regretted to remember that she was engaged
to go somewhere with Mr. Hopp. Her calls at
the office were few and purely on business. There
was no interruption in their friendship, but simply
that disruption of close ties which must follow the introduction
of a third person into an intimacy of two.
They felt themselves growing apart, and perhaps each
awaited a movement from the other toward a closer
friendship than ever. Regina could not make this
movement, because she was painfully conscious that
she desired Mr. Gray to make it. Mr. Gray could not
make it, because—well—should Mliss be still in the
and of the living, and some day return, he would
rather she should not reproach him with having found
another Clytie.

Mr. Gray experienced during these weeks the un
happiest hours he had ever known. There seemed no
person in the world to whom he was dearer than
another. He looked back upon the quiet days of Red
Mountain as a period of unalloyed happiness. He recalled
every walk with Mliss, every wayward manifestation
of her affection, and thought he could accept
the inaction and obscurity of that period of his life,
could he again feel the little brown hand steal into his,
and see the wistful, questioning dark eyes again reading
his face. There was love in these days, dull as
they seemed. No one had ever displaced him in that
ardent child's affection. No worldly considerations
had influenced her conduct.

Mr. Gray was not so unreasonable as even in his
heart to censure Regina for her encouragement of
Mr. Hopp. She was a young girl, dependent, and
marriage was her destiny. She had never evinced toward
him other than a sisterly regard. The little flirtation
which she had seemed disposed to enter into was
interrupted by the death of her father and the growth
of that more sincere affection that resulted from their
peculiar relations. She was at liberty to marry whom
she pleased and he ought to rejoice in her happiness.

But Mr. Gray had not arrived at that moral elevation
from which we view others without reference to
ourselves. We wished to see Regina happy, but he
wanted to be the source from which happiness should
come. He was willing she should be loved, but not
willing that Mr. Hopp should love her.

For Mr. Hopp he experienced that antipathy a sincere
man always feels for one he knows to be insincere.
His professional and social relations with Mr. Hopp
were friendly, but neither liked the other. Woman
may serve as a harmonizing element in general society,
but she rarely harmonizes her young gentleman
friends. The smiles which locate heaven in the heart
of one, are a source of disgust to the other. If she
smiles on both—as she often does—neither is quite
content. tI is only when she frowns on both that
they are drawn together through the human craving
for sympathy.