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  CHAPTER V

  Madame Parlato

  Blair's first interview with Carly Harper was painful for both. TheCranes had told her of Peter's death, but the sight of Blair seemed tobring home to the girl a further and more vivid realization of her loss.

  "I wish now I'd been kinder to him," she said, her voice quivering.

  "Oh, come now, Carly, I know you weren't unkind."

  "No; but I wouldn't--wouldn't do what he asked me----"

  "Never mind, dear; I think I know what you mean, and, let me tell you,old Peter was happy enough--about you. He seemed pretty sure that thingswere coming his way."

  "Of course," the girl said frankly. "I only wanted him to go away, free,and then if he still wanted me when he came back--and now he'll nevercome back!" she gave way to silent weeping.

  "His parents say he has come back," offered Blair, more by way ofdiversion than comfort.

  Carly looked up quickly. "They told you that?" she said.

  "Yes, told me pretty much all about their 'messages.' Foolishness, ofcourse, but it seems to comfort them."

  "It doesn't comfort me," and Carly sighed. "I don't believe in it, yousee." And she looked at him with a curious glance.

  "No; I don't either. But the old people do, and if it helps them beartheir grief,--why----"

  "Yes; I understand. How--how much did they tell you?"

  "All, I suppose. They said some medium,--well, not a professional, butsome friend of theirs,--helped them to get messages 'through,' as theycall it."

  "Didn't they tell you who the friend was?"

  "No; but they weren't mysterious about it. They simply didn't say. Ibelieve Julie doesn't like to have them try it,--the Ouija, I mean."

  "Oh, she feels as I do,--as anybody must,--if they like it let them haveit. She went to the lectures."

  "Everybody did, it seems."

  "Yes, the whole town went crazy on the subject. Is yet, but not quite tothe same extent."

  "The war brought it all about, of course. After a short time, the fadwill die out."

  "Yes, if it is a fad. But,--do you never think there may be a grain oftruth in it all?"

  "I haven't seen the grain yet, but I'm open to conviction."

  "Oh, well, I've no intention of trying to convince you. Tell me allabout your trip,--tell me all the queer experiences you had, andeverything you can think of. And tell me lots about Peter."

  Blair did her bidding. He described their life in the Labrador, told oftheir exploits and discomforts and also of the glorious outdoor days andnights that were so enjoyed by them all.

  "I'd love it!" Carly declared. "Oh, not all the tramping and portaging,but the camp life."

  "Better try it nearer home. The Adirondacks would give you enoughexcitement. There's no use braving that cold up there, and those fiercestorms."

  "If it hadn't stormed, Peter wouldn't have been lost, would he?"

  "Probably not. You see, we've mulled it over and over. He must havefallen and hurt himself in some way, or he would have followed ussomehow."

  "He would have called out."

  "That's the point. The wind was in our faces, it was a villainous blast,and nothing any one said could be heard by one in front of him, unlessthey were near each other. If Peter had shouted, the wind would havecarried his voice back and away from us. That is undoubtedly whathappened."

  "Don't you think the guide was greatly to blame?"

  "No; he had no reason to look back at us, as if we were sheep. We hadalways followed his trail, there was to all appearances no differencebetween this trip and any other. We had breasted equally severe storms,and come home, laughing. I feel sure Peter met with an accident,--or, itmay be,--probably enough,--his strength suddenly gave out, or even hisheart went bad, or something like that. Perhaps he couldn't shout. Iblame myself, of course, for not looking back sooner, but I do honestlyfeel that it was not a culpable omission."

  "Of course it wasn't! I see just how it was. Great, big, stalwart Peterwas not a baby to be looked after by you others. But--oh, Gilbert,--it'sso dreadful to think of his dying there alone! Perhaps he--he didn't dieright away----"

  "Don't, Carly! Try not to think about that. Think only that old PeterBoots is gone,--that he lived a fine, clean, splendid life, and met hisend bravely, whatever happened. And, too, I'm told that he couldn't havesuffered much. He must have lost consciousness very quickly."

  "Yes,--I suppose so. But--oh, Gilbert, I didn't know how much I cared,until--until I lost him."

  "I know, dear,--it's awful hard for you. Come on, get your hat and let'sgo over to Julie's. I haven't seen her yet, and I promised to callto-day."

  They went to the Cranes', and found Shelby already there.

  It was tea hour, and several people were gathered about Julie's prettytea table.

  For the Crane family, though in mourning, received gladly the intimatefriends who had loved Peter, and who came, full of sympathy, to talk ofhim.

  Julie received Blair with a warm welcome, but,--or at least so Blairthought,--she was a little cool in her greeting to Carlotta.

  The two girls were pleasant enough, but there was an evident constraintbetween them, and both turned quickly aside to talk to some one else.

  Blair pondered. He was by way of noting significant details and his owninterest in Carly Harper made him quick to resent any slight put uponher. Not that Julie's attitude could be called really slighting, nor wasit more so than Carly's own, but there was some dissonance there.

  His observation, though veiled by a pleasant, general interest ineverything, was no less acute, and he continued to note that the girlsreally avoided each other. It was none of his business, but he wascurious and surprised at a state of affairs so different from theintimacy he had known them to enjoy of old.

  He bided his time, and at last, finding an opportunity, he spoke toJulie alone. She still sat at the tea table, but all having been served,she was idle and a little distrait.

  "I'm glad to see you again, Gilbert," she said, at last, looking at himthrough tearful eyes, "but it makes me think of Peter, and--oh,talk,--or I shall go all to pieces!"

  Knowing Julie's emotional nature, Blair tactfully talked, tellingPeter's sister of trifling occurrences that were interesting inthemselves rather than of personal import. He succeeded in restoring hercalm and at last a chance allusion brought up Carly's name.

  "What's the trouble between you two girls?" Blair asked, lightly.

  "Trouble? There isn't any," and Julie's blue eyes,--so likePeter's,--looked straight at him.

  "Oh, just a school-girl squabble, is it?"

  "It isn't anything," Julie persisted, "why do you say that?"

  "Now, look here, Julie Crane, you can't fool me. I'm a mind reader, andI see there's a rift in the lute that you and Carly used to play duetson."

  Julie smiled at the way he put it, and said, half unwillingly: "Well,you see, Gilbert, Carly's a snake-in-the-grass."

  "What! Oh, I say, Julie, don't talk like that! What do you mean?"

  "She's underhanded, sly, deceitful, dishonest----"

  "Stop, stop! You're losing your mind! Suppose you let up on vituperationand do a bit of explaining. What has Carly done to merit those terms?"

  "What has she done? She has come over here,--when I've been away,--andstirred up father and mother with that silly, hateful, vicious old OuijaBoard performance,--that's what she's done!"

  "Ouija! Carly! Surely you're mistaken."

  "Indeed, I'm not. Father and mother couldn't make the silly thing go atall, till Carly helped them. She pushes it, of course,--and they aregulled and duped----"

  "But, Julie, wait! Why should Carly do such a thing?"

  "Oh, she's got the fad. Lots of people have, you know. And I haven't--Ihate it all--and so Carly comes over when I'm not home."

  "And was it she who got the messages from Peter?"

  "Yes, it was; that is, she pretended to."

  Blair was amazed. Carly had given him the impression that she d
idn'tbelieve in occult manifestations. Why should she do that, if she hadassisted at the Crane _seances_? He hated to think of Carlotta Harper asinsincere, but--he mused--that sort of thing tends to make peopleinsincere. He came to a quick decision that he would observe for himselfand not seek further enlightenment directly from either of the twogirls.

  So he only said, carelessly, "There's no accounting for the doings ofpeople who are obsessed by that sort of thing. But, look here, Julie, ifit is any comfort to your parents to think they have messages fromPeter, you wouldn't disturb their belief, would you?"

  "No, I don't. That's why I don't have a real quarrel with Carly. I thinkshe knows I've discovered her part in it all, and I think she knows Iresent it; but, as you say, if it helps dear old dad and mother to beartheir grief, I'm willing they should wear out one Ouija Board afteranother!"

  "Good girl. You attended the lectures, I hear."

  "Yes, and they meant nothing to me. What was produced as evidence seemedto me no evidence at all. I'd like your honest opinion, Gilbert."

  "I didn't hear the lectures."

  "But you can read the books. Sir Rowland has written several, and thereare hundreds of others. Do read some, and see if you can find anythingin them--anything at all that is conclusive proof."

  "Proof of what? Of continuity of existence?"

  "Not that, no. But proof that the spirits of the dead have evercommunicated with the living."

  It was during this conversation that Benjamin Crane came in. He wasevidently in a happy mood, his face was radiant and his fine featuresglowed with enthusiasm.

  "I've had such an experience," he exclaimed. "I've had a _seance_ with areal medium----"

  "Oh, father!" Julie cried out, involuntarily, but he only smiledbenignly at her.

  "Just listen, Julie, dear. Reserve your comment till you hear it all.Then we'll see."

  He drew his armchair nearer the fire and rubbed his hands to the blaze,then settled back in comfort, taking the cup that Julie brought him.

  "Yes, yes," he went on, "a wonderful experience. You know," he lookedround, including all his hearers, for all present had drawn near tolisten, "you know I felt sure we had no real mediums here in America.When Sir Rowland told of the trustworthy ones he has consulted inEngland, I almost decided to go over there myself. But I heard of onehere in New York, and I investigated fully her credentials andreferences before going to her. Truly, she is a marvel."

  "I thought they weren't allowed," observed Shelby, smiling a little.

  "'Not allowed' is sometimes a mere figure of speech," and Mr. Cranesmiled, too. "However, I was allowed to see her and have a real_seance_--oh, Helen," he turned to his wife, "I can scarcely wait to gothere again and have you go with me."

  "Father, I can't stand this!" Julie's eyes were blazing. "Please dropthe subject--at least, for the present."

  "There, there, my daughter, don't lose your temper. If you don't want tohear about this, you may be excused." He smiled at her lovingly but witha decided intention.

  "You're all interested, are you not?" he went on, turning to the variousattentive faces, and receiving nods and words of assent.

  "Then I'll go on," and he glanced at Julie, who sat still, controllingher expression of face but with tumult in her heart.

  "Take it easy," Shelby whispered to her, "you'd better hear it, youknow, whatever it's all about."

  "The lady," Crane said, "is a medium, well recommended by members of theSociety for Psychical Research, and by individuals who have been herclients."

  "What sort of recommendations does she offer?" asked an interestedvoice, "letters?"

  The speaker was McClellan Thorpe, a friend of Blair's, who shared astudio with him.

  Thorpe was frankly skeptical, but by no means controversial. He askedhis question in an honest desire to know of the credentials.

  "Yes," returned Crane, "letters from many well-known Spiritists,Psychics, Scientists and plain citizens, who are enthusiastic andsincere in their praise of this lady."

  "What's her name?" asked Mrs. Crane, who, it was plain to be seen,fairly hung upon her husband's words.

  "Madame Parlato," returned Crane. "She is no fraud, no charlatan, but arefined, gracious lady, whose sympathies are as wonderful as her occultgifts."

  Carlotta Harper, who sat by Thorpe, was absorbed in the tale, and herlarge dark eyes glowed, with intense interest as she listened.

  "Tell us just what happened," she said, and Julie gave her a look ofmingled scorn and apprehension.

  "I will," Crane's deep voice went on. "The lady, you understand, knewnothing of me or of Peter. I was careful about this, for I know thereare unscrupulous mediums, and I wanted to feel sure of this one'shonesty."

  "How do you know she'd never heard of you?" asked Thorpe. He had amanner of speaking that was definite without being annoying. Apparentlyhe was curious, and not, necessarily, incredulous.

  "How could she?" returned Crane, "we have no mutual friends. I heard ofher through a comparative stranger, and I went to her at once. Don't becarping, Thorpe, just wait till you hear my story. Well, she greeted mepleasantly, and with a most courteous and lady-like demeanor. I had anappointment, of course, and she directed me to sit at a table oppositeherself. I did so, and for quite a time nothing happened.

  "Then--she was not exactly in a trance, I should say, but rather sheseemed absorbed in deep thought--she said, 'I see a man, a fair-hairedman with a sunny, boyish smile. Do you recognize that description?' Ididn't say much, for I'm no fool to give myself away, you understand,but I nodded assent, and she went on: 'He seems very active, full oflife and energy, and of a loving, affectionate nature.' You may guesshow I felt when she described Peter so exactly! I wanted to exclaim,'Yes, that's my boy!' but I'm always careful not to help in any way. SoI just nodded, and she went on. 'He passed away about two or threemonths ago, and he seems willing to communicate with me. What shall Iask him?'

  "Now, I'm canny, you know, and I said, 'Make sure of his identity first.Ask him what name we used to call him by?' And, will you believe it?after a short pause, she said, 'Peter Boots!' She seemed surprisedherself at such a name. I thought I ought to tell her how true that was,so I did. She looked pleased to think it was all right, and waited forme to ask another question. So I said, 'Ask him how he died.' She did,and he told her he was frozen to death in a fearful snowstorm. Think ofthat! And I said, 'Ask him how it happened.' And she did, and Peter saidhe couldn't exactly say--he lost consciousness, and he knew nothing moreuntil he found himself on the other side. He said for me not to grieve,for he should carry on over there all he had attempted to do here. Hesaid he retained all his ambition and energy and hope--you know he wasblessed abundantly with those traits--and----"

  "Did he say he was happy?" asked Mrs. Crane, eagerly.

  "He said he was content, and though it was all a little strange as yet,he was becoming accustomed to that life and did not wish to return."

  "Did he send any message to me?" urged the anxious mother.

  "I'm coming to that, dear. Yes, he said for you not to grieve for him,but to think of him as busy and happy and entirely contented. Oh, Helen,isn't it wonderful? I arranged for another _seance_, and you shall gowith me. She held out a hope of materialization later, but she wasn'tsure she could compass that for some time to come. You needn't lookskeptical, Thorpe; that expression on your face only proves yourignorance of these things. I tell you, man, if it were somebody youloved and cherished you'd be mighty glad to hear from him!"

  "Never mind my expression, Mr. Crane," Thorpe returned, lookingapologetic, "I'm deeply interested, I can tell you, and I'd like to hearmore."

  "There's little more to tell. It was a quiet session--none of thatcurtained cabinet, tambourine-playing business, you understand; but aplain revelation from my boy's spirit through the medium of a refined,cultured woman. I'm sorry, now, I didn't take my wife with me to-day,but I feared it might not be so agreeable, and I tried it out myselffirst. But we will go together soon."
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br />   Crane beamed happily, and it was impossible not to rejoice with him inhis delight and satisfaction at his experience.

  Julie, her lips pressed tightly together, made no comment on herfather's story. Christopher Shelby, who sat beside her, eyed hercovertly, not quite decided whether to speak to her on the subject ornot.

  He concluded to do so, and whispered, "How does it all strike you?"

  "I don't know," she returned, passing her hand across her white browwith a wearied gesture. "If it had been those foolish cabinet affairs Ishould have been disgusted, but the really nice woman,--as fatherdescribes her,--and he never misrepresents,--gives a slightly differentface on it. Still, I can't believe----"

  "Shall you go to the next _seance_?"

  "I haven't been asked. I doubt if they'll want me. I wonder what Carlythinks of it all."

  But Carlotta was talking with Blair and Mr. Thorpe, and theirconversation had no connection with the subject in hand. They werediscussing a wedding of two of their mutual friends, which had proved asurprise to them all. Blair and Julie joined that discussion, and thematter of the _seance_ was not again referred to by the young people.

  But on the way home Thorpe spoke his mind to Blair, who accompanied him.

  "How can a sensible, otherwise well-balanced man like Benjamin Cranefall for that fake?" he exclaimed. "I've known Mr. Crane for years andhe never showed signs of paresis before!"

  "I don't attempt to explain it," returned Blair, casually, "but I doknow that lots of other equally hard-headed citizens are tarred withthe same brush."

  "That's true enough, but this is the first time I've run up against itso closely. I say, Blair, how did the lingo tally with the facts ofPeter's death? Or would you rather not talk about it?"

  "I don't mind talking about it at all. Why should I, among Peter'sfriends? As to facts, we know none ourselves except that he was lost inthe snow. You've no idea of that snow, Thorpe! It was like a thick,white feather-bed, falling, falling continually. It was impenetrable tosight or hearing. The wind blew it about some, but it fell so thicklythat it seemed a solid mass that we struggled through. And it was quiteall we could do to get along----"

  "Oh, don't think for a minute I feel you were in the least derelict! Iknow you weren't. It merely chanced that Peter's heart gave out--orwhatever it was that did happen--while he was the last one of theprocession."

  "And not only that. If, say, I'd fallen, a man behind might not haveseen me go down. If we swerved ever so little from a straight line, and,of course, we did,--couldn't help it,--we lost sight for a moment of theman in front. And as we all went along, eyes down or closed much of thetime, we might have lost a man who wasn't walking last. I wish I couldmake you see it, Mac! See the traveling, I mean. I've never progressedagainst such difficulties."

  "I know, old chap. Do get out of your head that anybody blames any ofyou in the least. And if they did, the blame would fall on the guide,not on you fellows."

  "Joshua was not a bit to blame either. Surely you see that. It was everyman for himself,--and--fate took the hindmost! Oh, I hate to think aboutit! It's even worse to me now than when it happened. The more I thinkabout it the more I grieve for dear old Peter. We were good pals, youknow."

  "I know it; we all were. Mighty few chaps like Peter Boots!"