The Accursed. Joyce Carol Oates

of Princeton! Would Satan come to Maidstone House, if summoned? What are the “black rituals” required, to summon such a fellow? Would punishments—i.e., small humiliations—wreaked upon Puss’s Princeton enemies be a sufficient reason, for Puss to “sell” her soul?

      _____ . Cousin Wilhelmina! How I wish that she would confide in me, as to an older cousin; speak to me of the (anguished?) secrets of her life; for I believe that “Willy” is grievously in love with Josiah Slade, as other girls & women in Princeton are said to be.

      Has Josiah Slade cast the girl a second glance? Except she is the friend of his sister Annabel? One doubts it!

      But Willy is so impetuously young, she & the exquisite Annabel who are such fast friends, since they were schoolgirls; I do envy them!

      I fear that, in their eyes, I am old—older than they; no matter that Puss’s face is unlined & eyes brightly dark & quick; & skin always a little fevered, & breath quickened; & my smile that of a slyboots little girl all dimples—the smile that pierces Horace’s heart, as he says. And my hair remains fine & light as smoke lifting about my head—though thinner than when I was a girl—a very pretty light brown threaded with red hairs—& if there be uglier gray hairs of a coarse texture, my maid Hannah has become skilled at henna rinse; & dear Horace, like all husbands, is none the wiser.

      Do you still love your poor little Puss—so I asked Horace yesterday at dusk, shivering against his vest—or would you wish for a stronger wife, a huskier Juno of a wife like Frances Cleveland? To which wistful query Horace replied with but a kiss on my warm brow.

      _____ . In secret Puss devours The Secret Doctrine of Madame Helena Blavatsky. Tho’ the prose is obscure & difficult of access as a thorn-chok’d garden. & much is forgotten, in the course of a single page.

      Yet: Puss so longs for comrades in Theosophy! Individuals courageous enough to brave such truths of the Occult Science (as it is called: for it is a Science). But—we are all Presbyterians & Episcopalians here; the most radical among us, Unitarians!

      The Theosophical Society of America has its headquarters in Manhattan, at Gramercy Park. Meetings are held there to which only invitees are allowed. My heart gives a leap, I am so hopeful—for I believe only the Theosophists can comprehend my desire, for a world of the spirit to which only the very special have access, through superiority of Intellect & Striving.

      Yet a little child shall lead ye—is not a teaching of the Theosophists!

      (If only Puss were not a pathetic invalid, & might journey by motorcar!—yet Horace would disapprove.)

      (All of the Burrs & the McLeans would disapprove for they are but narrow-minded provincials, at whom Madame Blavatsky would laugh in scorn.)

      Madame Blavatsky has said THERE IS NO RELIGION HIGHER THAN TRUTH.

      Madame Blavatsky has promised WE SHALL PASS TO OUR ETHERIC BODIES WHEN THE THIRD EYE IS OPENED GRANTING SPIRITUAL SIGHT.

      Madame Blavatsky has promised A GUARDIAN DEVI (ANGEL) WATCHES OVER US IF WE ASCEND TO A HIGHER PLANE.

      To which Puss adds a fervent AMEN.

      _____ . More of Cousin Willy. I think there is some fever’d secret in her.

      I am not able to judge if Wilhelmina at age twenty is handsome as some say or as others say too blunt-jawed, her face “hearty” & high-colored in a way not befitting a lady. I wish we might be friends. But she is young, & keeps her distance; less frequently comes to tea at Maidstone with her mother & aunt; or, if she is here, casts a dreamy eye on us all, as if her thoughts were elsewhere; is drawn into talk of the upcoming wedding of course, for she is Annabel’s maid of honor, indeed a singular honor here in Princeton; for the Slade-Bayard nuptials will be the great social event of the season.

      Yet, Wilhelmina has hopes to enroll in the New York School of Art, to study with the renowned painter Robert Henri. No sooner speaking of this wish than her mother interrupts to chide her, the daily commuting trip would be exhausting, by rail; & Wilhelmina’s father would never consent to her living in the city; so, the notion is absurd.

      So, the blushing girl is silenced & blinks tears (of rage?) from her stark brown eyes. Dear Willy is brash & forthright & I find that I cannot dislike her, as a girl who might have been my closest friend, at the Girls’ Academy; when I was the happiest of girls, I believe; & somewhat the most mischievous. Willy wore a most striking costume—a white pique skirt, smartly starched; a white cotton blouse, with puff sleeves & tight cuffs; a dark-striped jacket to accentuate the length of her torso & the narrowness of her hips; a hat of just under-size, a black straw Merry Widow without adornment; shoes black & plain & styled for walking, from our Bank Street cobbler. (For Willy claims to “walk, walk & walk” each day—along the canal, & the wild banks of Lake Carnegie; most shockingly, alone.) On her jacket lapel, a charming ladies’ pin-on watch, its sly little face upside down; at which, I saw, my dear cousin covertly glanced often as her elders prattled on, & on. Dear Willy, I cannot blame you!

      _____ . (Such rumors fly about Princeton, in the wake of the Wilson-West discord! The most exciting being, Andrew West is accused in some quarters of dabbling in the black arts. Horace has said that there is some truth to the charge, for there is known to be a cadre of research scientists at the university who venture into areas of experimentation involving the human brain through dissection (ugh!) & the like; kept secret from the university administration & the majority of the faculty, these scientists, under the guise of Natural Biology, pursue their illicit research in the bowels of Guyot Hall.)

      _____ . Horace refuses to even hint at what the UNSPEAKABLE is, in our midst—“Nothing to concern you, dear Adelaide.” Yet I know, it is something shocking & horrific; as bad as dissection. My lady-visitors know less than I do, it seems, & are so very disappointing, they make me want to spit. “Was it a robbery, a beating, a murder?”—so I persisted in inquiring of Horace, “—please tell me was it a murder?” (For I could not give utterance to the UNSPEAKABLE, that horrific insult that might be inflicted upon a woman or a girl, by a man; & the disgust & dismay of it ever afterward casting a shadow upon the poor victim’s life, of which she could no more speak than if her tongue had been cut out like poor Philomela.) But Horace says grimly it is nothing to concern his dear Puss.

      _____ . Horace’s nephew Dabney Bayard drops by for tea, with several Bayard relatives of such antiquity, I could have sworn they had passed away years ago; Lieutenant Bayard as he is now called, in his handsome officer’s uniform; all mustach’d smiles & Virginia charm & a curious persistence (did the young man believe that sharp-eyed Puss did not see?) in staring after young Hannah as she passed the tea things, for the girl is ever-more buxom, I am afraid, & otherwise shapely as a grown woman; with a mocha-taffy-colored skin, thick lips & nose; very quiet, deferential & obedient; not “bright”—one can see, in the sometimes lack of focus of her eyes. Yet in every way young & innocent, I am sure; for Minnie would see to this. And when Hannah was absent from the room, Lieutenant Dabney quickly became restless; chattered vaguely of the nuptials in June & the honeymoon trip—(Venice, Florence, Rome—ah, those fabled cities, poor Puss yearns to see!)—& the Craven house on Rosedale Road which will be deeded to the young couple—(though it is said to be haunted: has Lieutenant Bayard no fear of ghosts?)—casting me a blank embarrassed stare when I inquired, as if I had only just thought of it, what on earth had happened at the Craven house the other day?—of which no one will speak? After a startled silence Dabney drew breath and said, “Aunt Adelaide, I don’t think I know what you mean. I pay very little attention to gossip.”

      Why, this was a rebuke! Such rage coursed along my veins, I could wish that I had recourse to the Prince of Darkness & his quick ways of revenge; if only Andrew West were a close friend of Horace’s, & a confidant of poor Puss!

      As well as rebuke, something in Lieutenant Bayard’s gaze frightened me. For the Lieutenant, too, seemed frightened—for just a moment. & when he left escorting his doddering elders I felt very faint, & Henriette Slade, who