The Soul of Countess Adrian. Rosa Campbell Praed

the realm of commonplace, she succeeded in her attempt. No words came to break the pause. The actress gave a long shiver. Life and light went out of her face. The guilty woman, in her passion of love and terror and remorse, had vanished. There remained a shrinking child, dazed by some bewildering sight or sound, helpless and incapable. She tottered; a low moaning cry broke from her lips, and she fell forward insensible.

      Lendon leaped to his feet and, forcing himself to the front, reached the prostrate girl just as Professor Viall, with quiet presence of mind, stepped within the arch and drew down the heavy curtains. Lendon knew nothing for a moment but that he was holding her in his arms, and that her golden hair brushed his face. People pressed into the room. There were confused inquiries and ejaculations, and a doctor proffered his services. But Professor Viall waved them all away with an authoritative air—all except one man, who held his place, also as if with authority, and who looked at the young actress as she lay in Lendon's arms with an expression of thoughtful interest.

      "This is not an ordinary seizure," he said quietly. "If you will allow me to try some magnetic passes, I think I can do good, My name is Maddox Challis, and I um supposed to have some skill in the higher magnetism."

      "The name and works of Maddox Challis are very familiar to me," said the Professor. "It has long been my wish to meet one of whom I have read and heard so much, and with whose pursuits I am to a certain extent identified, for I also am a humble student of Occultism. I have been accustomed to use magnetism in the treatment of my niece, and I now readily yield to a higher power than mine."

      Maddox Challis bowed only in reply to the Professor's elaborate address, and, opening the door of the tiny boudoir which led out of the room in which they were, motioned to Lendon to carry his burden thither. Presently the girl was lying upon a sofa, with Mrs. Cubison loosening her dress and Mr. Challis making passes over her, extending and drawing back his arms slowly every now and then with a jerky movement of his fingers, plucking, as it were, something invisible from her and throwing it away. She revived almost immediately. The deathly look left her face. She drew a deep sigh and opened her eyes. They rested on the stranger's face with a startled gaze but he did not pause for an instant from his monotonous passes, and after a minute or two the look of bewilderment gave place to an expression of relief, and with another sigh she again closed her eyes. A faint flush crept into her cheek, and her breathing became soft and regular. Maddox Challis discontinued his passes. He laid his hand for a moment on the girl's forehead, then, without a word, left the room.

      The Professor seemed disappointed. His eyes followed Challis till the door closed, then he turned and watched Beatrice.

      "She will be all right now," he said. "I presume it was the mixed magnetism that upset her."

      "No," said Mrs. Cubison, mysteriously; "it was the influences. She encourages them. I'm sure I don't wonder, considering what they do for her. It might have been Rachel who controlled her, you know. I never saw her finer than she was to-night."

      "Influences?" repeated Lendon in a puzzled tone.

      "You're not troubled with them?" remarked Mrs. Cubison, composedly.

      "No," answered Lendon.

      "Ah, perhaps you don't come of an inspirational family, as we do. It has its drawbacks. Beaty's mother used to suffer from influences. Hers weren't always satisfactory. They had a very bad effect on Beaty's mother," Mrs. Cubison added, and paused.

      "They drove her out of her mind," said the Professor, drearily.

      "But, good Heavens! you don't mean that there is any danger?" exclaimed Lendon.

      "Well, I don't know that I can explain," began the Professor.

      "Oh, you needn't mind Mr. Lendon," put in Mrs. Cubison. "He's inspirational himself—in a certain sense. All artists must be inspirational, you know, more or less, and of course they attract artistic spirits into their sphere."

      Lendon laughed. "Do you mean that the influences are dead people?" he asked.

      Mrs. Cubison nodded. The Professor stroked his long upper lip.

      "Why, certainly," he said, "Of course, there's danger; but what's the use of worrying over what part of your temperament? We have the misfortune to be a family of mediums. It is a disease—hereditary, like consumption and other things. I've got over it. The Viall-Motor helped me through. Acting will be Beaty's safeguard. Her mother was an idle woman, and she fell in love and died in an asylum. Beaty is different. As long as she keeps real grip on her work she has nothing to be afraid of."

      "Nothing to be afraid of!" Lendon repeated vaguely.

      "Oh, yes, she'll come all right," pursued the Professor. "They wont hurt her while she sticks to Art. The danger is of her falling in with some living influence that might prove stronger than the dead ones."

      "You mean—if she should marry?" timidly suggested Lendon.

      "Well, I don't know that I meant that altogether. She'll have to take her chance anyhow. What is to be, will be, you know," answered the Professor, with cheerful fatalism. "It would be curious, wouldn't it, if one could know which of them it was to-night," he added, as if an idea had struck him—"Rachel or Siddons, or perhaps poor Aimée Desclées?"

      "Ah," said Lendon again, with his little laugh, which was half nervous, "I have no doubt any of our young actresses would gladly run some risk for the sake of being able to summon such distinguished persons as familiar spirits."

      "Do you suppose they would be at the beck of any young actress? My dear sir," said the Professor solemnly, "perhaps you don't remember Schiller's description of certain exceptional natures for which 'too easily is ripped open the kingdom of the ghosts'—that's the literal translation, I believe. Those words are another phrase for genius. What is genius?" he went on fervidly. "She hasn't got it" (indicating Mrs. Cubism, who was preening herself in her pouter-pigeon fashion). "I haven't got it. You haven't got it—at least, I beg your pardon, but I should guess not. My niece has it, though; and it's nothing but the unconscious power of access to the highest influences of the past—a power as rare as are the Talmas and the Siddons themselves. It's the open door through which these bodiless beings from the other side can enter into oar world again—the body by which they can vent their unsatisfied cravings and pent-up aspirations. Art is a passion as high and as low as other passions. I have no doubt it was a satisfaction to poor Desclées—if it was she—to hear again the applause that was once her nightly food." He paused, for at this moment the girl stirred. "We'll talk of this some other time," he said.

      Beatrice raised herself as he spoke, and looked at him with steady eyes. She seemed now to have quite recovered from her strange attack. "I will talk to Mr. Lendon," she said. "Uncle, I want you to go back to those people and tell them—oh, tell them anything. They've seen enough to show them I can act. They won't want me any more. Let us go home when you have explained why I fainted."

      "Why did you faint, Beaty?" Mrs. Cubison questioned, when the Professor had, without further words, left the room.

      She gave a shudder and looked at Lendon. "Who is that woman?" she asked, taking no notice of her aunt.

      "Countess Adrian," he answered at once.

      "I knew that you would know. Is she a friend of yours?"

      "She is going to marry a friend of mine," he replied.

      The girl was silent.

      "But you haven't told us why you fainted, Beaty," said Mrs. Cubison.

      "Nor ever shall, I fancy, Marmy dear, for that's one of the mysterious things in earth and heaven that are beyond my understanding." She got up from the sofa as she spoke, and, going to the mantel-piece by which Lendon was standing, leaned her elbow upon it and stood looking at him with a troubled, questioning expression. He uttered some anxious words about her health, but she stopped him.

      "No, never mind. I'm quite well now Mr. Lendon, would you do something for me?"

      "I would do anything in this world for you," he answered fervently.