Dawn. Mrs. H. A. Adams
cannot be imparted. Each must seek, and find, and be convinced alone by personal experience and observation.”
“I believe you, and your earnest words have sunk deep within my mind, yet in modern spiritualism I have little faith.”
“Mere phenomenal spiritism is of course only designed to arrest the attention; its other form appeals to the soul, and becomes a part of the daily lives of those who realize it.”
“But I have heard of so much that was contradictory, so much that cannot be reconciled.”
“Neither can we reconcile the usual manifestations of life. Our daily experiences teach us that seeming absurdities abound on every hand.”
“That is true. I sometimes think I shall never get the evidence which my nature requires to convince.”
“In God's own time and way it will come, and when you are best fitted to receive it.”
“But please go on, Mr. Wyman, and tell me more of your experience.”
“I would I could tell you how often when I am weary, my dear Alice comes and watches over me at night; how truly I feel her thoughts, which she cannot express in words; and how, when the poor and needy are suffering, she leads me to where they dwell amid scenes of want. When my pure child speaks thoughts beyond herself, and describes to me some vision which I at the same time behold, with the exact look and gesture of her mother, I say I believe in spirit communion. I can well afford to let the world laugh; I know what I see and feel. And well do I know how much there is mixed with this modern spiritism, which has no origin save in the minds of the persons who substitute their hopes and thoughts for impressions. On this I have much to say to you at some future period. It is well that it is so, else we should not discriminate. Life is so full of adulterations, that which the world calls 'evil' is so mingled with that it calls 'good,' would it not be strange if this phase should come to us pure and unmixed?”
“It would not take you long to make me a convert to your faith; yet I hope sometime to have my own experiences. If there was not so much that conflicts with our reason, I think every one would naturally accept the belief you so fondly cherish.”
“Without such conflicting experiences, we should be mere machines. We must grow in every direction, using every faculty for our guidance, yet ever remembering there are mightier realms than reason, and that the human soul must often go beyond that portal, to catch glimpses of the silent land.”
“Life would indeed be blessed to me, could I feel an assurance that my mother was near me to strengthen me in my hours of weakness, and that she was interested in my labors.”
“I know all our earnest longings are answered, and that sufficient proof will be given you. Say nothing of this conversation to Dawn. I have my reasons, and should not be surprised if, in a few days, she should give you a test of spirit presence.”
“Can Dawn see as clearly as yourself?”
“She can, and far better. I do not force the gift upon her, or seek to overwork her powers. I want it to be natural and to unfold with all her other capacities. Never question her, let all come freely.”
“I will remember; and here she comes laden as usual with flowers.”
“O, Miss Vernon, O, papa, I have had such a good time!” she exclaimed out of breath and almost wild with excitement.
“What was it all about, child?”
“I was on the hill out here, getting flowers, when I seemed to hear music, all at once in the air. I think I went to sleep, but if it was a dream I know it means something, for I saw a tall, beautiful lady come to me, and on her forehead were the letters, M. V. Then she took a little box inlaid with gems, and drew from it a necklace of pearls, and then she went away, and as she turned-I saw these words come like a light-'Tell Florence.' Now, papa, what did it mean?”
Mr. Wyman turned to Miss Vernon who was weeping. He waited until her emotion subsided and then said—
“Your mother, was it not?”
“They were my mother's initials. Her name was Mabel Vernon, and mine Florence.”
“How strange. And the necklace, do you recognize that?”
“My mother gave me-on her dying bed-a pearl necklace in such a box as described by Dawn.”
“And we did not know your name was Florence. We only knew you as Miss Vernon.”
“Can it-can this be true? Ah, something tells me I may believe. I am too full now, Mr. Wyman, to talk. I must go.”
“Call me Hugh, Florence, I am your brother—” and he led her gently to the house.
She remained in her room all that evening. Deep and strong was the tide which was setting into her new life. “If 't is true, 't is the greatest truth mortal has found,” she said again and again to herself, as the old upheaved, and the new flowed into her soul. Life was becoming almost too full; her brain grew fevered, but at last sweet sleep, that soul refiner, came, and after a night's repose she awoke, calm and at rest.
CHAPTER V.
After breakfast, Mr. Wyman informed Miss Vernon and Dawn that he should go away that day on business, and be absent perhaps two weeks.
“I have a book which I would like you to take to Miss Evans for me to-day,” he said, addressing Miss Vernon.
“The lady who called here soon after I came?”
“The same.”
“I like her much, and should be pleased to see her again.”
“I am glad you do. She is my ideal of a true woman, and one whom every young, earnest soul ought to know. You will go to-day?”
“Certainly; I am anxious to see her in her own home.”
“She is queen of her domain, and entertains her friends in a most lady-like manner; but I must bid you both good-bye, and be off. Be happy, Miss Vernon, Florence, and let me find you full of good things to tell of yourself and Dawn, on my return. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye, papa,” rang out on the sweet summer air till he was out of sight, then the child's lid trembled, the lips quivered, and she laid her head on the bosom of her friend and teacher, and gave vent to the grief which ever wrung her at parting with her kind parent.
“I am glad you did not let your father see those tears. You are getting quite brave, Dawn.”
“I feel so bad when he goes. Shall I ever be strong like you, and look calm after these partings? Perhaps you don't love papa; but every body does that knows him-you do, don't you?”
“Very much; but we will go to our lessons, now, dear.”
“Can I bring my book into the hall, to-day? I like to stay where I saw him last.”
“Certainly; and we will have a review to-day and see how well you remember your lessons. We shall have no interruptions this morning, and after dinner we will go together to see Miss Evans.”
An hour passed, and the lessons were but half through, when a ring at the door caused them both to start, and they left the hall.
Aunt Susan answered the call, and ushered the visitors into the family sitting-room.
“Some ladies have called to see you, Miss Vernon,” she said, thrusting her head into the doorway of the room where teacher and pupil sat close together with clasped hands, as though some invading force was about to wrest their lives apart.
“In a moment, Aunty, I will see them,” and a strange shudder shook her frame.