A Modern Wizard

Leon opened his eyes, and instantly rested them upon Agnes. No sign of recognition appeared upon his face, but only admiration was pictured there. The girl awakened, too, and her eyes gazed upon Leon's face. Instantly there was a convulsive trembling, and she breathed heavily. Her lips parted and closed, again and again. It seemed as though a word sought utterance, but was restrained by some secret emotion. Leon began to move towards her, his eyes fixed upon hers, and an expression of ecstatic pleasure spreading over his features. Slowly but surely he advanced, and, as he approached, Agnes trembled more and more.

A swift alteration in the attitude of the girl then took place. In one instant she became thoroughly controlled; all quivering ceased. She stood erect, exhibiting to its fullest her marvellously attractive form. Then, with a bound, she sprang forward, and cast herself upon the breast of her dream-land lover, with a cry that went straight to the heart of her father.

"Leon! Leon! I love you! I love you!" she exclaimed, and as the youth folded her in an enraptured embrace, Judge Dudley fell to the floor senseless.

CHAPTER XI.

THE GENESIS OF LOVE

I must explain more fully how the scene just related was pre-arranged. As Dr. Medjora told the Judge, it had been a common occurrence for him to hypnotize Agnes whenever favorable occasions presented. These had not been infrequent, because the girl had exhibited a great fondness for the study of chemistry, and therefore often visited the Doctor in his laboratory. Since the advent of Leon, this habit had been discontinued, or only rarely indulged, and the Doctor, appreciating the maidenly reserve which prompted her, had made no comment.

When, however, he decided that the time had arrived when it would be best for him to put his scheme into operation, he had one day invited Agnes to be present at some interesting experiments which he wished to show. Thus she had readily been enticed to the laboratory, and then the Doctor had hypnotized her, and subsequently led her to the chamber where he had arranged the paraphernalia for his little scene. Before this, he had commanded Leon to sleep, and in a similar condition the lad had been conveyed to the couch whereon he was afterward shown to the Judge.

The Doctor had calculated to meet opposition in the Judge, and his hypnotic séance had been conceived with the double purpose of convincing him of the uselessness of antagonism, while at the same time he would utilize the opportunity to suggest the idea of love to both of the young people.

Ordinarily, by which I mean with subjects having less individuality than these, he would have been content to operate upon one at a time; but with Agnes and Leon, he knew that he could succeed only by acting upon both simultaneously, and at the moment of suggesting love, to present them each one to the other, in propria persona, rather than through the imagination. He counted upon personal contact so to intensify the suggestion, that it would not be overcome by will power exerted in the waking state, which would ensue.

All had passed to his entire satisfaction, and he had little doubt that his experiment would succeed, but there was still much to do. First, he again commanded Leon and Agnes to sleep deeply, and then leaving them slumbering on their respective couches, he bore the body of the Judge to the floor above. Examining him closely he soon satisfied himself that his friend had only succumbed to emotional excitement, and that he would soon recover from his swoon. He then took him to the study and placed him in the chair which he had occupied earlier in the evening. Hastily returning to the secret chamber, he brought Agnes upstairs, taking her through the hall and down to the parlor. Here he suggested to her that, when she awakened, she should think she had merely been visiting the house, but that it was then time to return to her home. In a moment more she opened her eyes, and in natural tones, which showed that she was devoid of any suspicion of what had transpired, she asked if her father was ready to take her home. The Doctor replied that the Judge would join her in a few moments, and returned to the study just in time to find Judge Dudley rubbing his eyes and staring about him bewildered. At sight of the Doctor much of what had happened recurred to him, though he doubted whether he had not been dreaming.

"Doctor Medjora," he exclaimed, "what has happened? Tell me! Tell me the truth!"

"All that is in your mind has occurred," replied the Doctor, calmly. "You have not been dreaming as you suppose, though you have been unconscious for a brief period."

"And my daughter?" asked the Judge, anxiously.

"Agnes is waiting for you to escort her home. As it is late, I have ordered my carriage to be at your disposal. It should be at the door now. Will you accept it?"

The quiet tone, and the commonplace words disconcerted the Judge. He would have preferred discussing what was pressing heavily upon his thoughts, but after gazing steadily at his host for a moment he decided to let the matter rest for a time. Thus he demonstrated the truth of the Doctor's suggestion theory, for the language used, and the manner adopted, had been chosen with the intention of producing this effect. The Judge, however, did not entirely avoid the topic. His reply was:

"Medjora, you have given me food for deep thought. I cannot at once decide whether you are the greatest charlatan, or the most advanced thinker in the world. I am inclined to give you the benefit of the doubt. The other affair shall have my consideration. Good-night!"

"I thank you, Judge," said the Doctor, suavely, "and believe me that I speak with sincerest truth, when I assure you that your daughter's happiness is now, as it has always been, the chief aim of my life. I will accompany you to the carriage."

Having seen his friends depart, the Doctor immediately sought the secret chamber again, and brought Leon up to the laboratory, thence taking him to his room, where he awakened him, and chatted with him for a few minutes, after which he left him to go to rest.

During the long ride home the Judge and his daughter were both silent, each being lost in thought. The Judge was endeavoring to disentangle from the maze of his recollection a history of the night's events which would appeal to his mind as reasonable. Had Agnes been asked to proclaim her thoughts she would have replied that she was "thinking of nothing special." Yet in a dim indefinable way she was wondering how a woman could become so attached to a man, that she would be willing to yield her whole life and independence to him. She was, therefore, a little startled, when just before reaching home her father suddenly addressed her, saying:

"Agnes, my daughter, I wish you to answer a question. Are you particularly interested in any young man? Are you in love with any one?"

"Why, what a question, father! Of course not!" She replied, with some asperity, the more so because she felt the blood mount to her face, and was annoyed at the idea that she was blushing. Her father did not pursue the subject, but leaned back in his seat, mentally relieved. He thought that he had received satisfactory proof that, whatever the Doctor might make Agnes say under hypnotic influence, his spells could not enthrall her during her waking hours. The Judge was not yet convinced of the Doctor's suggestion theory.

When Agnes retired to rest, as she lay in her luxurious bed, her head pillowed on soft down, with silken cover, she began to seek for an explanation of that blush in the carriage, which she was so glad that the darkness had screened from the eyes of her father. She argued to herself that, as she did not love any one, and never would or could do so, she had answered quite truthfully the question which had been put to her. Then why the blush? She had always understood a blush to be a sign of guilt or shame, and she was not conscious of either. She did not readily read the riddle, and while yet seeking to unravel it, she gently drifted away into dream-land. How long she wandered in this mystic realm without adventure worthy of recollection I know not, but at some hour during that night she experienced a sense of heavenly happiness.

It seemed to her that she was walking along a trackless desert. The sun beat down heavily, withering up the shrubbery, and drying up all the moisture in the land. Everything about seemed parched and dying except herself. She had a plentiful supply of water, and walked along without fatigue or suffering from the heat. Presently she came to a stone, upon which sat an old woman, who looked at her and begged for water. Agnes immediately took her water-bottle, and was about to place it to the lips of the old woman, when lo! she observed that the water had nearly all evaporated, so that only enough was left to slake the thirst of one person. At this she was surprised, having thought that there was a plenty, but not even for an instant did she consider the propriety of keeping the water for her own uses. Without hesitation she allowed the old woman to drink all, to the last drop. In a second, the woman had disappeared, and in her place there was a most beautiful being, a fairy, as Agnes readily recognized, from the many descriptions which she had heard and read. The fairy thus addressed her:

"My dear, you have a kind heart, and shall be rewarded. Presently you will leave this desert, and come into a garden filled with delicious flowers. Choose one, and the wish that enters your heart as you pluck it shall be gratified. But of two things I must warn you. The flowers are all symbolic, and your wish can only be appropriate to the blossom of your choice. Second, you can go through the garden but once; you cannot retrace your steps. So be careful how you decide."

As the last words were uttered, the fairy vanished, and Agnes walked on, hoping soon to enter the garden of promise. A mile farther, and the fragrance of many flowers was wafted towards her on a light zephyr which now tempered the heat of the sun. She hastened her steps, and very soon stood before a curiously carved gate made of bronze. As she approached, the gate opened, and admitted her, but immediately closed again behind her, thus proving the correctness of what the fairy had said. In all directions before her were rose-bushes in bloom, but she observed that the whole appeared like a huge floral patch-work quilt, because all of one kind had been planted together, so that great masses of each color was to be seen on every side. Just before her the roses were all of snowy whiteness. She moved along a glittering path, and admired the flowers, ever and anon stooping over one more exquisite than its neighbors, and pressing her face close against its petals, inhaling its sweet fragrance. When she thus stooped over the largest and choicest which she had yet seen, a tiny sprite appeared amidst the petals, and, stretching out his arms invitingly, addressed her in a voice which reminded her of a telephone.

"Maiden fair, choose this blossom. Pluck this bloom, and wear it in thy bosom forever. In return thou shalt be the purest virgin in all the world, for these roses are the emblems of Chastity!"

But, for reply, Agnes shook her head gaily, and merely said: "All that you promise is mine already," and then passed on.

The next were gorgeous yellow roses. They were rich in color and regal in form and stateliness, as on long stems each full-blown rose stood boldly forth above the bush of leaves below. Again a sprite popped out his head, and oped his lips:

"Stop here, fair girl. Pluck one of these, and thereby gain Wealth and all that wealth implies. These are the symbols of gold!"

"I want no more of wealth," said Agnes, and again she refused the tempting offer. The next were roses of a size as great as those just left behind. There was just as much of fragrant beauty, too, or even more, perhaps, in these most glorious roses, just blushing pink.

"Choose one of us, dear girl, and Beauty will adorn thy cheek forever more!" the little sprite invited, but once more Agnes would not acquiesce, and so went on.

What next appeared was somewhat puzzling. The bushes were filled with buds, but at first she could not find a single flower in full bloom. At last, however, she did espy just one, a rose of crimson color and luscious fragrance. With a strange yearning in her breast, she stooped, and almost would have plucked it, when, as she grasped the stem, a sharp pain made her desist. She looked at her hand and saw a drop of blood, of color which just matched the rose. A silvery laugh, like the ripple of a mountain brook, attracted her, and she looked up to see a little fellow, with bow and quiver, smiling at her from the centre of the flower.

"Fair maiden," said the sprite, "if thou wouldst taste the joy of paradise, the happiness which transcends all other earthly pleasure, choose one of these unopened buds. Take it with thee to thy home, and nurse it as thou wouldst care for thine own heart. Tend it, nourish it, and cherish it. Then, in time, it will expand and unfold, and from its petals you will see emerge, not a tiny sprite like me, but the spirit face of one such as thou, though of other sex, who will arouse within thy breast that endless ecstacy which men call Love. For these deep red roses are the emblems of Love!"

Without hesitation Agnes plucked the largest bud within her reach, unmindful of the pricking thorns which pierced her flesh, and then hurried on, passing the roses of Wisdom, and many other flowers of great attractiveness. And as she ran the wish that surged up in her soul was that the words of the sprite might prove true, and that she might see that face: the face of him who was born to be her master; the one for whom she would slave, and be happy in her slavery.

Then it seemed that she was at home again, in her own room, and that the cherished bud was in her most beautiful vase. She thought that she supplied fresh water, placed the vase where the sun would kiss the bud for one full hour every day and in every way did all that she could devise to hasten its maturing. At last one morning, a tiny bit of color gladdened her eyes as the first tips of the petals burst from their sheath and pushed themselves out into the great world. From that hour, as the bud slowly unfolded, she felt within her heart a sympathetic feeling which was a pleasure and yet was painful too. It seemed as though the fate of the flower was interlaced with her own so tightly, that if it should die, why then no longer would she wish to live. And so she waited and watched and tended the blooming rose with anxious patience, awaiting that hoped-for day when the promise of the fairy, and the sprite, would be fulfilled. But the days went by, and at last the rose began to fade, and as the petals dropped away one by one, she felt an answering throb as she thought that her hope would die. At length, when half of the rose lay a shower of dead petals on the table around the vase, it seemed as though she could no longer endure the suspense. She became desperate, and determined to end it all by destroying the rose which had caused her such sweet hope, and such bitter disappointment. She grasped the flower and took it from the vase, but, as she essayed to crush it, her soul was filled with remorse and she hesitated. She gazed at it for a time, as tears filled her eyes, and finally with a sob of pain she began to dismember the bloom, plucking the petals one by one and throwing them idly in her lap. At last, only a half dozen remained about the heart of the flower, when in an instant she was amazed and overjoyed to see a face slowly emerge from amidst the stamens. At the same moment an overpowering fragrance welled up and enthralled her senses, so that she almost sunk into unconsciousness. Then, as she knew that her hope was realized, that the fairy's promise was fulfilled, and that Love was within her grasp, she leaned forward eagerly, to scan the feature of the face before her. It was but a miniature, but after a very brief scrutiny she readily recognized it, and knew that it was Leon's. With a cry of surprise she awakened, while all the details of the dream were yet fresh within her mind.

As the morning sun shed a ray across the features of Agnes Dudley, now freed from the bondage of sleep, it illumined a puzzled countenance. Agnes could not quite understand the feelings which swayed her heart. The sense of gladness was new, as was also a dread anxiety which rose up, and almost suffocated her as she thought, "It is only a dream!"

She had dreamed of love, and she had coupled Leon with that idea in some way, but why should it disturb her to find that it was but a dream? Surely she could not be in love with Leon? Of course not! The very thought was preposterous, even coming to her as it had, while she was asleep. Springing out of bed she was astonished to find that it was already nine o'clock, for usually she was an early riser. She began dressing hurriedly, and rang for her maid. When the girl came she brought with her a beautiful bunch of red rosebuds, half blown. Instantly Agnes was reminded of her dream, but when she noted that a card was attached, and read upon it the words, "With the compliments of Leon," she felt a blush creep over her face, neck, and shoulders, which made her for the first time in her life feel ashamed. She was ashamed because she thought that the maid might observe and understand her confusion, and she was very angry with herself to find that so simple a gift should so disturb her. She sent the maid away that she might once more be alone. Then she read the card again, and noted the signature more closely. Why should he sign only his first name? That was a privilege accorded only to very close friendship. It seemed presumptuous, that the first note received by her from this young man should be so signed. She certainly would show him that she resented what he had done. Indeed she would! Then, with an impulse which she did not analyze, she crushed the buds to her lips and kissed them rapturously. In another moment she realized what she was doing, and again a blush colored her fair skin, and as she observed it in her mirror, she exclaimed, half aloud:

"A red blush, the symbolic color of love!" She paused, retreating before her own thought. But there was no repressing it. "Do I love him?" She did not reply to this aloud, but the blush deepened so that she turned away from the glass, that she might hide the evidence of her own secret from herself.

If the Judge could have guessed what was passing through the mind of his daughter, he might have more fully respected the suggestion theory which Doctor Medjora had propounded to him. As it was, a night's sleep, and an hour's consideration of the matter on the following day, enabled him to conclude that there was nothing about which he need disturb himself. He had come to admit, however, that assuredly Agnes was a wonderfully healthy and intellectual girl, and he was willing to accord some credit therefor to her association with his friend, the Doctor. Feeling consequently indebted to Dr. Medjora, he hastened to write to him that he would immediately take the steps necessary for his legal adoption of Leon, and for giving the lad the name Medjora. The receipt of this letter gratified the Doctor very much, and for the rest of the day he was in high spirits.

CHAPTER XII.

THE MARQUIS OF LOSSY

With Leon, the Doctor's suggestion had worked differently, though none the less potently, despite the fact that the lad himself did not detect the symptoms, as did the girl. I think a woman's instincts are more attuned to the influences of the softer passions than are a man's. Certainly it has been often observed that she will recognize evidences of love, which man passes by unnoted and unheeded. If a girl is quicker to discover that she is loved, she also admits sooner that she is in love, though the admission be made only to herself. Thus, as we have seen, the Doctor's charm operated upon Agnes.

When Leon awoke that same morning, it was a sudden awakening from dreamless sleep. He recalled nothing of what had occurred during the previous night, nor had he even a suspicion that Agnes had been in his thoughts at all. Nevertheless he dressed himself with feverish haste, and, contrary to his usual custom, he left the house and went "for a walk," or so he explained his action to himself. Yet very soon he had reached the nearest station of the Suburban Elevated railroad, and was rapidly borne towards the city. During this trip he thought that he was going to town to obtain some chemicals which he needed in the laboratory, but, as there was no immediate necessity for them, he might have delayed their purchase for several days. The truth was he was answering a scarcely recognized inward restlessness, which demanded action of some sort. The cause of this change from his normal habit was that "something was the matter" with him, as he afterwards expressed it. But at the time he did not seek an explanation of his mood. He did procure the chemicals, but having done so, instead of returning home, he walked aimlessly for several blocks, until he stopped, seemingly without purpose, before a florist's shop. In an instant he had formulated a design, "on the spur of the moment" he told himself, though it was but the outcome of the secret agency which controlled his whole conduct that day. He went in and purchased some rose-buds, selecting red ones, and he wrote the card which Agnes found upon them. When he reached the signature he quickly scribbled "Leon," and then he paused. The thought within his mind was, "I have no other name." Therefore he did not continue. Thus it is evident that the single signature was not a familiarity, either intended or implied, but a response to that feeling, ever within his consciousness, that he had no right to call himself "Grath"! Upon this point he was ever sensitive. He hastened to the Judge's house and left the bouquet at the door. Then he returned to Villa Medjora with a lighter heart, and, man-like, he wrongly attributed this to the ozone with which the morning air was laden. As yet he did not suspect that he had fallen in love. I wonder why we use the term "fallen" in this connection, as though the acquirement of this chief passion of the human heart were a descent, rather than an elevation of the soul, as it surely is. For one must be on a higher plane, from that moment when he abandons himself as the first consideration of his thoughts, and begins to sacrifice his own desires, that he may add to the pleasures of another.

The first meeting between Agnes and Leon was one to which the former looked forward with anticipated embarrassment, while Leon scarcely thought of it at all, until the moment came. But when they did meet, all was reversed. The girl was self-possession personified, while Leon never before found words so tardily arriving to meet the demands of conversation. He went to his own room that night, and wondered what had come to him, that he should have been so disturbed in the presence of one for whom hitherto he had had rather a tolerance, because of her intellectuality, than any feeling of personal inferiority such as now occupied his thoughts. How could he be less than she? Was he not a man, while she – she was only a woman? Only a woman! Ah! Therein lies the mysterious secret of man's undoing; of his lifelong slavery, that the wants of woman shall be supplied. Yet women prate of women's rights, deploring the fact that they are less than those, who, analysis would show, are but their slaves.

From this time on, the bud of love in the hearts of these two young people advanced steadily towards maturity, and, before very long, Agnes was living in a secret elysium of her own creation. She no longer questioned her own feelings. She freely admitted to herself that all her future happiness depended upon obtaining and enjoying Leon's love. But she had come to be very sure of the fulfilment of her heart's desire, since Leon's visits became more and more frequent, and his books and science apparently lost their power to allure him away from her side. The situation was very entertaining to her, who was so fond of analyzing and studying the intricate problems of life; and, to such as she, what could be happier occupation than probing the heart of him to whom she had intrusted her own? She thought she saw so plainly that he loved her, that it puzzled her to tell why it was that as yet he himself was not aware of this fact. But at last the awakening came.