Read Ebook: Tibby: A novel dealing with psychic forces and telepathy by Gilchrist Rosetta Luce

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Ebook has 2020 lines and 78001 words, and 41 pages

"Surely, you don't pretend to believe such a preposterous story, Donald," she said, laughing.

"We have the Professor and his wife to testify to it, neither one ever known to l--prevaricate; and in the mouths of two witnesses the truth shall be affirmed," misquoted Donald. "At any rate one story is good until another is told."

"They must be a pair of charlatans, and I don't think I care to make their acquaintance."

"I suspect you begin to fear them. There is no telling what they may discover," Donald said with mock gravity. "But here comes the redoubtable hero himself. All hail, ye Prince of Darkness, hail!" he continued in a sepulchral voice, as a step was heard outside the door.

A moment later the Professor entered the apartment. Melissa had time, while he greeted the head of the family, to note that he was a medium-sized, wiry-looking man, of about forty, with very long red hair hanging to his shoulders, and bristling whiskers of the same color. His lower jaw was prominent and his ears were flattened very close to his head. But his most remarkable feature was a pair of keen gray eyes, which gleamed restlessly from under rather overhanging brows.

When presented to Lissa he fixed his eyes upon her in a way that caused her to suppress a shudder, and regarded her steadily for a moment, then, still holding her by the hand, which she would gladly have withdrawn, he said:

"You look like your mother, Mrs. Bartram, except that she has blue eyes. She has a scar on her left wrist, made in a peculiar manner."

Lissa blushed painfully, and followed his eyes to her own wrist as she drew away her hand. She knew the history of the scar alluded to, though she believed it unknown to any one outside her own immediate family. She felt the inquiring eyes of her husband's relatives upon her, and sat down ill at ease.

Presently the company were seated about a table in the center of the room, and the clairvoyant announced himself in readiness to afford proof of his wonderful powers.

Accordingly, two or three lines cut from a letter from a sister of the bride were placed in his hand, so rolled that no words written there could give any clue to the writer.

Professor Russell gazed passively at the rolled scrap for a time, then the muscles of his face began to twitch slightly, his eyes became vacant and partly closed; there was a convulsive movement of his shoulders, a long-drawn sigh, and he began to speak.

"I can see a wilder scene than this, a country as far as the eye can reach, a vast table-land, dotted here and there with adobe houses and their contiguous cotton-wood groves of one or two years' growth. One of these houses stands facing south, and in the doorway I can see a woman. She is looking anxiously westward, shading her face with her hand. She has on a dress of some dark material, partly covered with a kitchen apron. She has dark hair and--ah, now she has removed her hand; she looks like a lady in this room, except that she is taller, and her hair, a shade lighter, is worn in braids instead of curls. Her gray eyes have an anxious look in them. A number of ponies are corralled near the house. What is she looking at?"

The Professor spoke slowly, as if studying the scene of his clairvoyant vision. Nathan and Lissa exchanged glances, while Donald rolled up his eyes with a concealed affectation of awe. Squire Bartram appeared interested, and glanced toward Lissa inquiringly, while his wife, good soul, gazed sternly and forbiddingly at the Professor as though she believed him in league with his Satanic majesty, and the ghosts of her Puritan forefathers were warning her against him.

Meanwhile the face of the man was working strangely.

"The house has disappeared from my vision," he cried, "and I can see a still wilder country, through which runs a placid, shining river. A large party of Indians are cantering across the prairie, mounted on round, sleek-looking mustangs. With them is a white man, young and handsome, with light, flowing hair, and fearless blue eyes. He is dressed in hunting costume, with wide-brimmed hat, and he rides a white pony with an army saddle and large stirrups. There is a coil of rope at his saddle bow and a couple of pistols and a hatchet in his belt. He carries also a rifle.

"The ground over which they are traveling is torn and trampled as if an army had lately traversed it, and--ah, yes, I see, away in the west, a herd of buffalo looking like a great black cloud against the sky, and showing distinctly against the red of the setting sun behind it. But, look, they have turned their course toward the south and are running their horses at full speed! They turn in their saddles and look northward. I see! There is another party coming from that direction."

The Professor looked fixedly a moment and continued:

"They are Indians, also; a larger band, and hideously painted. The others are spurring their horses toward the river to escape this hostile band, who have seen them, and like the wind are rushing down upon them. Their horses are more fleet, they are gaining upon them--they lift their rifles and shoot! Good! Their shots do not reach them. The white man rises in his stirrups and returns the fire. The Indians of his party follow his example. Their rifles have longer range and their shots tell. Several saddles of the pursuing party are empty."

The man spoke eagerly now. His restless gray eyes kindled, and his face glowed with animation. His story had produced a like effect upon his listeners, all of whom showed more or less excitement.

Lissa was pale, her large, dark eyes fixed intently upon the speaker, while her small hands gripped each other tightly in her lap. Squire Bartram peered over his spectacles and rubbed one palm upon the other, a habit he had when deeply moved. Donald looked from one to another quizzingly, but said nothing.

"The fleeing party have reached the river and taken refuge behind the protecting bank--yes, their shots speak now. One, two, three of the painted devils reel from their ponies. More fall! Half of them are down! On come the rest, swinging their hatchets! They are at the bank! They fight hand to hand with their tomahawks. Great Scott! There he is struck, he is down!--the white man is hurt!--he topples over and falls backward down the bank!--he sinks into the river and disappears!"

A shriek from Lissa interrupted the further description of the scene. Nathan sprang to her side, and in the confusion that followed the Professor seemed to lose sight of his vision, nor could he be persuaded to again enter the clairvoyant state.

Poor Lissa was greatly excited. The man had so accurately described her brother-in-law, then living in Nebraska, and knowing as she did that he was in command of a party of Pawnee scouts she could not free herself from the idea that the scene depicted was a true one, notwithstanding her former scepticism.

"What would you give me for a letter from Nebraska," said Donald a few days after the Professor's visit, as he flung himself from his horse and sat down on the steps of the veranda where Lissa sat, with her lap full of flowers which she had been gathering.

"O Donald, give it to me quick! I can't wait a minute," she cried, espying the gleam of white sticking from the pocket of his coat.

"But tell me first, before you read it, whether you have any faith in Professor Russell's vision," he said, teasing.

"Yes, no; I don't know. I can tell better after I have read Alice's letter."

"Of course, but that will not demonstrate your faith. However, I'll be good and let you have it." And Donald placed the coveted missive in her hand.

As she read the letter, her expressive eyes dilated with wonder and awe.

"What is it?" asked Nathan, noticing her agitation.

She placed the written pages in his hand.

"Read that, Nathan, and tell me what to think, what to believe. Read it aloud that all may hear and judge."

Nathan took the letter and read as follows:

"'Cramer Cabin, Prairieland, "'August 28, 18--.

"'My Darling Little Sister:

"'Don't you wish you were here with me this summer evening? Outside, the white stillness of the great prairie woos one to meditation and letter writing. Now you will expect something poetical and fine, will you not? Well, the inspiration is here, but alas, I am one of those "Who cannot sing, but die with all their music in them." My muse deserted me in my infancy. Besides I have been having unexpected duties.

"'How did he get them, did you ask? Well, he was away on a hunting expedition with a band of his Pawnees, when they were surprised by some Sioux. Mark got a flesh wound in his shoulder from a tomahawk blow, and a bullet grazed him in the left side. Close call, wasn't it? The skirmish was on the bank of the Niobrara, where Mark's party had fled for shelter, and he managed to get under water until a clump of hazel-brush enabled him to climb out and hide. He was too exhausted from the loss of blood to fight any longer. However, his men drove off the Sioux and found him and brought him home. Mark says I have represented him in a cowardly position. I hope not. He was in a dead faint when the men found him. Anyway, I don't see any bravery in standing up to have your scalp taken off by a savage, do you? But men are so very sensitive upon those points.

"'I can hardly wait for your arrival. Mark says I act like a crazy woman whenever I speak of it. O Lissa, Lissa, Lissa! We're out of the world here, but I am sure you will enjoy it. I hug myself with delight whenever I think of seeing you so soon.'"

Nathan paused in his reading.

"It is wonderful," he said. "Professor Russell must have seen the entire skirmish."

"Yes," responded Lissa, "unless he may have heard of it in some way. Alice does not say upon what day Mark was hurt."

"Ah, you are yet a doubting Thomas," Nathan said, smiling fondly upon the winsome upturned face of his girl-wife.

"No, only looking for a peg to hang a doubt upon. Nathan, I am very anxious to get to our new home."

"I shall not be. Read the rest of Alice's letter."

Nathan continued his reading:

"'Just think, sister, of having no social barriers or stiff conventionalities to hamper one. No fussing to prepare elaborate toilets, no two-minute fashionable calls to make, no questioning as to what one shall wear. I am happy and well-dressed for any occasion in my pink gingham. It is a pretty gingham, and made up prettily, I assure you, as I made it myself. Then, we are all so well acquainted with one another, and call each other by the first names, and run about to each other's houses whenever we please and stay as long as we please, and talk about our chickens and ponies, and--and--O Lissa, dear, you cannot realize what a free, wild life this is. And the air is so pure and invigorating.'"

"And there's plenty of it," interpolated Donald.

"Yes, too much, sometimes," said Nathan.

"Now don't, Nate! Don't say a word to discourage me. If I were going to Kansas I should be afraid of cyclones, but I am sure we shall have none in Nebraska."

Lissa smiled indulgently, but made no reply, and Nathan continued reading the letter.

"Put on your big sun hat and dust wrap," Nathan had said, "we are to drive through a wild region much of the way and shall have plenty of dust and sun, besides you need have little fear of meeting acquaintances on our long path over the prairie."

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