Short Fiction by H. G. Wells (ebook smartphone .txt) 📕

upon the memory, effacing unpleasant ideas, controlling and overcoming instinctive but undesirable impulses, and so forth, by means of hypnotism, they would have refused to believe the thing possible. Few people knew that an order made during a mesmeric trance, even an order to forget or an order to desire, could be given so as to be obeyed after the trance was over. Yet there were men alive then who could have told them the thing was as absolutely certain to come about as⁠—well, the transit of Venus.”

“They knew of hypnotism, then?”

“Oh, dear, yes! They used it⁠—for painless dentistry and things like that! This blue stuff is confoundedly good: what is it?”

“Haven’t the faintest idea,” said Mwres, “but I admit it’s very good. Take some more.”

The hypnotist repeated his praises, and there was an appreciative pause.

“Speaking of these historical romances,” said Mwres, with an attempt at an easy, offhand manner, “brings me⁠—ah⁠—to the matter I⁠—ah⁠—had in mind when I asked you⁠—when I expressed a wish to see you.” He paused and took a deep breath.

The hypnotist turned an attentive eye upon him, and continued eating.

“The fact is,” said Mwres, “I have a⁠—in fact a⁠—daughter. Well, you know I have given her⁠—ah⁠—every educational advantage. Lectures⁠—not a solitary lecturer of ability in the world but she has had a telephone direct, dancing, deportment, conversation, philosophy, art criticism⁠ ⁠…” He indicated catholic culture by a gesture of his hand. “I had intended her to marry a very good friend of mine⁠—Bindon of the Lighting Commission⁠—plain little man, you know, and a bit unpleasant in some of his ways, but an excellent fellow really⁠—an excellent fellow.”

“Yes,” said the hypnotist, “go on. How old is she?”

“Eighteen.”

“A dangerous age. Well?”

“Well: it seems that she has been indulging in these historical romances⁠—excessively. Excessively. Even to the neglect of her philosophy. Filled her mind with unutterable nonsense about soldiers who fight⁠—what is it?⁠—Etruscans?”

“Egyptians.”

“Egyptians⁠—very probably. Hack about with swords and revolvers and things⁠—bloodshed galore⁠—horrible!⁠—and about young men on torpedo catchers who blow up⁠—Spaniards, I fancy⁠—and all sorts of irregular adventurers. And she has got it into her head that she must marry for Love, and that poor little Bindon⁠—”

“I’ve met similar cases,” said the hypnotist. “Who is the other young man?”

Mwres maintained an appearance of resigned calm. “You may well ask,” he said. “He is”⁠—and his voice sank with shame⁠—“a mere attendant upon the stage on which the flying-machines from Paris alight. He has⁠—as they say in the romances⁠—good looks. He is quite young and very eccentric. Affects the antique⁠—he can read and write! So can she. And instead of communicating by telephone, like sensible people, they write and deliver⁠—what is it?”

“Notes?”

“No⁠—not notes⁠ ⁠… Ah⁠—poems.”

The hypnotist raised his eyebrows. “How did she meet him?”

“Tripped coming down from the flying-machine from Paris⁠—and fell into his arms. The mischief was done in a moment!”

“Yes?”

“Well⁠—that’s all. Things must be stopped. That is what I want to consult you about. What must be done? What can be done? Of course I’m not a hypnotist; my knowledge is limited. But you⁠—?”

“Hypnotism is not magic,” said the man in green, putting both arms on the table.

“Oh, precisely! But still⁠—!”

“People cannot be hypnotised without their consent. If she is able to stand out against marrying Bindon, she will probably stand out against being hypnotised. But if once she can be hypnotised⁠—even by somebody else⁠—the thing is done.”

“You can⁠—?”

“Oh, certainly! Once we get her amenable, then we can suggest that she must marry Bindon⁠—that that is her fate; or that the young man is repulsive, and that when she sees him she will be giddy and faint, or any little thing of that sort. Or if we can get her into a sufficiently profound trance we can suggest that she should forget him altogether⁠—”

“Precisely.”

“But the problem is to get her hypnotised. Of course no sort of proposal or suggestion must come from you⁠—because no doubt she already distrusts you in the matter.”

The hypnotist leant his head upon his arm and thought.

“It’s hard a man cannot dispose of his own daughter,” said Mwres irrelevantly.

“You must give me the name and address of the young lady,” said the hypnotist, “and any information bearing upon the matter. And, by the by, is there any money in the affair?”

Mwres hesitated.

“There’s a sum⁠—in fact, a considerable sum⁠—invested in the Patent Road Company. From her mother. That’s what makes the thing so exasperating.”

“Exactly,” said the hypnotist. And he proceeded to cross-examine Mwres on the entire affair.

It was a lengthy interview.

And meanwhile “Elizebeθ Mwres,” as she spelt her name, or “Elizabeth Morris” as a nineteenth-century person would have put it, was sitting in a quiet waiting-place beneath the great stage upon which the flying-machine from Paris descended. And beside her sat her slender, handsome lover reading her the poem he had written that morning while on duty upon the stage. When he had finished they sat for a time in silence; and then, as if for their special entertainment, the great machine that had come flying through the air from America that morning rushed down out of the sky.

At first it was a little oblong, faint and blue amidst the distant fleecy clouds; and then it grew swiftly large and white, and larger and whiter, until they could see the separate tiers of sails, each hundreds of feet wide, and the lank body they supported, and at last even the swinging seats of the passengers in a dotted row. Although it was falling it seemed to them to be rushing up the sky, and over the roof-spaces of the city below its shadow leapt towards them. They heard the whistling rush of the air about it and its yelling siren, shrill and swelling, to warn those who were on its landing-stage of its arrival. And abruptly the note fell down a couple of octaves, and it had passed, and the sky was clear and void, and she could turn her sweet eyes again to Denton at her side.

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