"But suppose, sir," said Ellen, "that a gentleman, concerning whose house you have given me no previous description, should wish to examine me—what must I do in such a case?"
"Remain silent," answered the Professor.
"And would not this excite suspicion?"
"Not a bit of it. I have my answer ready:—'There is no magnetic affinity, no mesmeric sympathy, between you and your interlocutor.' That is the way to stave off such a difficulty; and it applies equally to a stranger holding books or prints for you to read with the back of your head."
"I really can scarcely avoid laughing when I think of the nature of the farce," observed Ellen.
"And yet this is not the only doctrine with which the world is duped," said the Professor. "But it is growing late; and you are doubtless anxious to return home. I am so well pleased with you, that I must beg you to accept this five-pound note as an earnest of my liberal intentions. You were very perfect with the poetry and the letter—the letter, by the bye, from my poor old aunt, whose existence is only in my own imagination!—Indeed, altogether, I am delighted with you!"
Ellen received the money tendered her by the mesmerist, and took her departure.
Thus successfully terminated her first essay as a patient to a Professor of Animal Magnetism!
CHAPTER LXXXVIII.
THE FIGURANTE.
THE wonders performed by the Professor of Mesmerism produced an immense sensation. The persons who had been admitted to the "private exhibition," did not fail to proclaim far and wide the particulars of all that they had witnessed; and, as a tale never loses by repetition, the narrative of those marvels became in a very few days a perfect romance. The reporters of the press, who had attended the exhibition, dressed up a magnificent account of the entire proceedings, for the journals with which they were connected; and the fame of the Professor, like that of one of the knights of the olden time, was soon "bruited abroad through the length and breadth of the land."
At length a public lecture was given, and attended with the most complete success. Ellen had an excellent memory; and her part was enacted to admiration. She recollected the most minute particulars detailed to her by the Mesmerist, relative to the interior of the houses of his friends, the contents of letters to be read through envelopes, the subjects of prints, and the lines of poetry or passages of prose in the books to be read when placed behind her. Never was a deception better contrived: the most wary were deluded by it; and the purse of the Professor was well filled with the gold of his dupes.
But all things have an end: and the deceit of the Mesmerist was not an exception to the rule.
One evening, a gentleman—a friend of the Professor—was examining Ellen, who of course was in a perfect state of coma, respecting the interior of his library. The patient had gone through the process of questioning uncommonly well, until at length the gentleman said to her, "Whereabouts does the stuffed owl stand in the room you are describing?"
In the abstract there was nothing ludicrous in this query: but, when associated with the absurdity of the part which Ellen was playing, and entering as a link into the chain of curious ideas that occupied her mind at the moment, it assumed a shape so truly ridiculous that her gravity was completely overcome. She burst into an immoderate fit of laughter: her eyes opened wide—the perfect state of coma vanished in a moment—the clairvoyance was forgotten—the catalepsy disappeared—and the patient became unmesmerised in a moment, in total defiance of all the prescribed rules and regulations of Animal Magnetism!
Laughter is catching. The audience began to titter—then to indulge in a half-suppressed cachinnation;—and at length a chorus of hilarity succeeded the congenial symphony which emanated from the lips of the patient.
The Professor was astounded.
He was, however, a man of great presence of mind: and he instantaneously pronounced Ellen's conduct to be a phenomenon in Mesmerism, which was certainly rarely illustrated, but for which he was by no means unprepared.
But all his eloquence was useless. The risible inclination which now animated the great majority of his audience, triumphed over the previous prejudice in favour of Mesmerism; the charm was dissolved—the spell was annihilated—"the pitcher had gone so often to the well that it got broken at last"—the voice of the Professor had lost its power.
No sooner did the hilarity subside a little, when it was renewed again; and even the friends and most staunch adherents of the Professor looked at each other with suspicion depicted upon their countenances.
What reason could not do, was effected by ridicule: Mesmerism, like the heathen mythology, ceased to be a worship.
The Professor grew distracted. Confusion ensued; the audience rose from their seats; groups were formed; and the proceedings of the evening were freely discussed by the various different parties into which the company thus split.
Ellen took advantage of the confusion to slip out of the room; and in a few moments she left the house.
Her occupation was now once more gone; and she resolved to pay another visit to the old hag.
Accordingly, in a few days she again sought the miserable court in Golden Lane.
It was about three o'clock in the afternoon, when the young lady entered the apartment in which the old hag dwelt. The wrinkled wretch was seated at the table, working. She had bought herself a new gown with a portion of the money which she had received from Ellen on the occasion of recommending the latter to the Mesmerist; and the old woman's looks were joyful—as joyful as so hideous an expression of countenance would allow them to be—for she thought of being smart once more, even in her old age. Vanity only ceases with the extinction of life itself.
"Well, my child," said the old woman, gaily; "you have come back to me again. Surely you have not already finished with your Mesmerist?"
"Yes," replied Ellen. "The bubble has burst; and I am once more in search of employment."
"And in such search, miss, will you ever be, until you choose to settle yourself in a manner suitable to your beauty, your accomplishments, and your merits," said the old woman.
"In what way could I thus settle myself?"
"Do you ask me so simple a question? May you not have a handsome house, a carriage, servants, money, rich garments, jewels, and a box at the Opera, for the mere asking?"
"I do not require so much," answered Ellen, with a smile. "If I can earn a guinea or two a week, I shall be contented."
"And do you not feel anxious to set off your charms to the greatest advantage?" demanded the old woman. "How well would pearls become your soft and shining hair! how dazzling would your polished arms appear when clasped by costly bracelets! how lovely would be your little ears with brilliant pendants! how elegant would be your figure when clad in rustling silk or rich satin! how the whiteness of your bosom would eclipse that of the finest lace! Ah! miss, you are your own enemy—you are your own enemy!"
"You forget that I have a father," said Ellen—"a father who loves me, and whom I love—a father who would die if he knew of his daughter's disgrace."
"Fathers do not die so easily," cried the old hag. "They habituate themselves to every thing, as well as other people. And then—think of the luxuries and comforts with which you could surround the old man."
"We will not talk any more upon that subject," said Ellen firmly. "I well understand your meaning; and I am not prudish nor false enough to affect a virtue which I do not possess. But I have my interests to consult; and it does not suit my ideas of happiness to accept the proposal implied by your language. In a word, can you find me any