The story begins with the explanation of that circumstance which

had greatly puzzled Mr. Ricardo--Celia's entry into the household

of Mme. Dauvray.

Celia's father was a Captain Harland, of a marching regiment, who

had little beyond good looks and excellent manners wherewith to

support his position. He was extravagant in his tastes, and of an

easy mind in the presence of embarrassments. To his other

disadvantages he added that of falling in love with a pretty girl

no better off than himself. They married, and Celia was born. For

nine years they managed, through the wife's constant devotion, to

struggle along and to give their daughter an education. Then,

however, Celia's mother broke down under the strain and died.

Captain Harland, a couple of years later, went out of the service

with discredit, passed through the bankruptcy court, and turned

showman. His line was thought-reading; he enlisted the services of

his daughter, taught her the tricks of his trade, and became "The

Great Fortinbras" of the music-halls. Captain Harland would move

amongst the audience, asking the spectators in a whisper to think

of a number or of an article in their pockets, after the usual

fashion, while the child, in her short frock, with her long fair

hair tied back with a ribbon, would stand blind-folded upon the

platform and reel off the answers with astonishing rapidity. She

was singularly quick, singularly receptive.

The undoubted cleverness of the performance, and the beauty of the

child, brought to them a temporary prosperity. The Great

Fortinbras rose from the music-halls to the assembly rooms of

provincial towns. The performance became genteel, and ladies

flocked to the matinees.

The Great Fortinbras dropped his pseudonym and became once more

Captain Harland.

As Celia grew up, he tried a yet higher flight--he became a

spiritualist, with Celia for his medium. The thought-reading

entertainments became thrilling seances, and the beautiful child,

now grown into a beautiful girl of seventeen, created a greater

sensation as a medium in a trance than she had done as a lightning

thought-reader.

"I saw no harm in it," Celia explained to M. Fleuriot, without any

attempt at extenuation. "I never understood that we might be doing

any hurt to any one. People were interested. They were to find us

out if they could, and they tried to and they couldn't. I looked

upon it quite simply in that way. It was just my profession. I

accepted it without any question. I was not troubled about it

until I came to Aix."

A startling exposure, however, at Cambridge discredited the craze

for spiritualism, and Captain Harland's fortunes declined. He

crossed with his daughter to France and made a disastrous tour in

that country, wasted the last of his resources in the Casino at

Dieppe, and died in that town, leaving Celia just enough money to

bury him and to pay her third-class fare to Paris.




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