Kate was quite restored to her ruddy self. "Very well, I will see that he gets it."
Viola now spoke wearily, but quite in her natural voice again. "There is no test in that kind of a message. I didn't write it--I had nothing to do with it; but you or Professor Serviss would be justified in thinking I did. Grandpa wanted me to go into a trance. This kind of writing is a compromise."
"But what of my aunt who spoke through you?" asked Kate.
Viola stared at her blankly, and her mother laid a warning hand on Kate's arm. "She knows nothing of these impersonations," she said.
"What did I do?" asked Viola. "I hope nothing ridiculous."
"Mrs. Rice's aunt spoke through you, that's all," answered Mrs. Lambert, reassuringly.
"Tell me more," said Kate, eagerly. "It is all so unreal to me--I want to see more. Dr. Britt has told us wonderful things of you. Do you really believe the dead speak to you?"
"They are with us all the time," placidly, yet decisively, answered Mrs. Lambert. "We are never alone. I can feel them always near."
Kate shrank. "I don't believe I like that--altogether. Don't you feel oppressed by the thought?"
"Yes, I do," answered Viola; "they take all the joy out of my life."
"Dearest!" warned the mother.
"It is true, and I want Mrs. Rice to know it. Since I was ten years old I have not been free of the thing for a day--only in the high mountains. There I could always draw a long breath. I am glad you've come, Mrs. Rice. I want you to ask Professor Serviss to come and investigate me. My only hope is in the men of science. Tell him I want him to help me understand myself." She was speaking now with force and heat. "I want him to padlock me and nail me down. I want to know whether I am in the hands of friends or enemies. Sometimes I think devils are playing with me. All my life I've been tortured by these powers; even at school they came banging about my bed, scaring my room-mates. They disgraced me before my teacher, the one I loved best. They interfered with my music, they cut me off from my friends, and now they've landed me here in this strange house with this dreadful old man, and I want some one, some good man who knows, some one who is not afraid, to come and test me. Mamma never doubts, Mr. Clarke is entirely satisfied, and this Mr. Pratt is worse than all. I don't believe in his pictures, I don't believe in what I do--I don't know what I believe," she ended, despairingly; then added, fiercely: "This I do know, I want to be free from it--free, free--absolutely free. I pray to God to release me, but He does not, and my slavery grows worse every day."