This Orb Was Made for Seein Magnolia Bay Cozy Mysteries
Book Three
Paranormal Women s Midlife Fiction
Scarlett Moss
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This Orb Was Made for Seein’
Magnolia Bay Cozy Mysteries
Book 3
Scarlett Moss
Copyright © 2023 by Scarlett Braden Moss
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, contact Scarlett@Scarlettbraden.com.
The story, all names, characters, and incidents portrayed in this production are fictitious. No identification with actual persons (living or deceased), places, buildings, and products is intended or should be inferred.
Book Cover by Elizabeth Mackey
https://www.elizabethmackeygraphics.com/
Editing by Roxx Tarantini of Proof Perfect Edit
https://www.proofperfectedit.com/
First edition 2023
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter One
“ Is she ever going to open?” Abby shifted from one foot to the other, her eyes never leaving the darkened interior of Whalebones Antiques.
I sighed, sharing her impatience. The boots on my feet were magic, but that didn’t make standing any less tedious. “It’s not even nine yet. Relax,” I said.
Bailey caught my eye and smirked. “I swear, Abby, if you keep tapping your foot like that, I’ll put a hex on you.”
Abby snorted. “With what? Your love potion Chapstick?” Reminding Bailey of her status as a shifter compared to ours of being witches. But Bailey was always there with us, doing whatever needed to be done. She was one of us, even if her particular brand of mysticism was different.
We laughed, but I couldn’t shake the undercurrent of something extraordinary in the air. The shop door creaked open, and we poured inside like water breaking through a dam.
“Good morning, ladies - and Elvis,” Lane said.
Elvis meowed a morning greeting to our friend. But I was concentrating. The store felt different today. The atmosphere was electric, almost pulsating. The moment I stepped in, I knew today was going to change something. It was as if the very air was alive, tingling my skin like champagne bubbles.
For nearly two months, we had started every day making a run through the antique store. Ever since Bailey told us she had spied a crystal ball with the same design on it as my magic boots. Abby and I were in an all-out war to be the one to find it. In the beginning, we quizzed Lane. Yes, she’d seen it; no, she hadn’t sold it, but she
didn’t know where it was in the store. With tourists and locals alike browsing, and the store crammed to the gills with objects large and small, items were constantly moved about. She assured us that the object would reveal itself to the one who was supposed to find it exactly when they were supposed to have it. Logically speaking, then, it wouldn’t matter if we came together and raced through the store, hoping to be the one to find it first. It wouldn’t matter if we didn’t come but one day a week. I suppose the allure after all this time was more that we enjoyed starting the days together in this way. We also found many intriguing pieces to use in the B&B as we transitioned my old family home into a business for Bailey. And now it was opening week. We would make a pass through the antique store, have a cup of coffee together, and then go our separate ways to our individual responsibilities. Coastal life in the off-season was very rewarding this year. Busy in a way to ward off any chance of boredom, but with little stress involved. I was feeling content and happy.
“Look at this,” Abby said, holding up an ancient book with a tattered cover.
“Nice,” Bailey admired a silver locket, holding it up to the light. “Think this will make me irresistible?”
“Wouldn’t hurt to try,” I grinned.
My attention was drawn to a glass case. There it was—an orb, almost radiating an energy of its own. A crystal ball ensconced on a base of intricate scrollwork vining around the base of the orb. My fingers itched to touch it. When I did, it pulsed, and for a split second, a series of images flickered through my mind—a full moon, a forest, a shadowy figure. Just as quickly, they were gone.
Lane, the shopkeeper, gave me a knowing smile. “Ah, the Orb of Sarafin. Very special, that is.”
“Special how?” I asked, though something told me her explanation would be vague at best.
“Let’s just say it’s not for the faint of heart,” she said, her eyes twinkling.
I took a deep breath. “I’ll take it.”
Bailey looked over and saw the crystal ball she had told us about Labor Day weekend.
“You found it!” she squealed.
“Drat!” Abby said. “I figured it was too much to hope that we were both meant to have one of the matching objects. Congratulations. You’ve found your totem.”
“Aw, Abby, I’m sorry,” I said, feeling slightly greedy to be in possession of both matching pieces.
“No, no,” she answered. “Lane was right. It’s meant for the one who finds it. We’ve all been looking diligently for months. It’s supposed to be you. But I guess this means we need to find a new morning tradition.”
“I suppose you could both start coming to the B&B for coffee in the morning,” Bailey said. “I’ve been sad this little routine was going to have to end. With the first guests arriving later today, I’ll be serving in the mornings instead of shopping.”
“You bet!” I said. “I love that idea.”
“It’s been fun starting my days with you ladies,” Lane said. “But I understand with the B&B opening, it won’t be the same. I’ll have to keep my eyes open for things that might interest y’all. Maybe you can come at lunch time.”
“Thanks, Lane,” I said. “It has been fun to spend a few minutes each day hunting for a treasure. We’ll be sure to keep it up.”
As we stepped out into the morning light, the sensation of being watched washed over me. I glanced around but saw no one out of place.
“Halloween’s coming,” Bailey said, breaking into my thoughts. “Think we’ll get a lot of trick-or-treaters at the B&B?”
I looked at the Orb nestled safely in its bag. A sense of foreboding mixed with excitement filled me. “This Halloween is going to be different,” I muttered.
“Different good or different bad?” Abby asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But I can’t shake the feeling that we’re about to find out.”
Elvis, strapped into the carrier on my chest, meowed, but he refrained from sharing his opinion on the matter with me.
“I’m going to drop this off at the bookstore and make sure I’m not needed for anything. I’ll meet you at the café,” I said.
When I arrived and found my friends at a table on the boardwalk enjoying the cool October breeze, they acted as though they had been waiting forever.
“Took you long enough,” Bailey said, not looking up from her menu. “I’ve already swiped left on three guys.”
I rolled my eyes. “Only three? You’re losing your touch.”
Abby chuckled. “You guys are terrible. I’m actually trying to find someone decent this time.”
“Good luck with that,” Bailey winked. “Someday, I want you to explain to me where the fun is in someone decent.”
We ordered, and then I brought up the reason we’d all been tiptoeing around. “You know the Halloween festival starts tomorrow, right? That’s bound to bring in some fresh faces. Maybe some fresh drama, too.”
“Oh, I love drama—as long as it’s not mine,” Bailey declared, smirking.
“Speaking of drama,” Abby said, “how’s it going with Cowboy, Colton, whatever it is you’re calling him? Is he coming here permanently, or just passing through. How do you feel about it?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I don’t know what his longterm plans are, and I don’t know what I feel about it one way or another. Labor Day weekend was what? A flirtation? The beginning of a friendship? I don’t even know. We’ve spent a lot of time talking on the phone since then. I feel bad about the whole thing.”
“What do you have to feel bad about?” Bailey, the serial dater, asked.
“Look, I’m not stupid. I know he’s attracted and interested in me, though for the life of me, I can’t imagine why. He’s fifteen years younger than me. I’m not looking for a relationship. But I like him. I enjoy talking to him. It’s an interesting dichotomy, him being younger but more practiced in the craft. His completely different world being a musician and all.”
“Is that all you’re attracted to?” Abby asked.
“I’d be lying if I said a younger man’s attention isn’t flattering. And he’s not hard on the eyes,” I confessed.
“No, ma’am, he is not,” Bailey swooned and nodded toward the door.
Colton walked in. He spotted me and grinned that boyish grin that made my heart stutter and my logic flee. For a man younger than me, he had a certain pull that was becoming harder to ignore.
“Colton’s heading this way,” Abby nudged me.
“Brace yourself,” Bailey smirked.
“Hey, Cassie. Ladies,” he greeted, his eyes locking onto mine for a beat longer than necessary. “How are you?”
“We’re good,” I said, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. “You?”
“I’m doing well, thank you. Excited for the festival tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, “The whole town is buzzing about it.”
He hesitated as if wanting to say something more but deciding against it. “Well, see you ladies around.”
As he left, Bailey let out a low whistle. “That tension could cut glass.”
I sighed. “Let’s not even go there.”
But Abby leaned in, her eyes narrowing. “Why not, Cassie? What are you so afraid of?”
I looked at both their faces, at Bailey’s reckless abandon and Abby’s guarded hopefulness. And I felt my own fear of making a choice that could disrupt the life I’d carefully built.
“The unknown,” I finally admitted.
Bailey snorted. “Unknown, you say? Girl, if you don’t make a move soon, the only unknown you’ll face is what brand of cat food you’ll be buying and how many siblings Elvis is going to accumulate. Tell us, will you wear the whole clowder?”
“Mreow!” Elvis said, making his position on sharing me with more cats very clear.
We laughed, but the weight of my indecisiveness settled heavily on my shoulders. It was almost a relief when the subject
changed to the Halloween festival and the various events it entailed. But even then, a single thought persisted in the back of my mind.
“Choices,” I whispered to myself, “they’re both a blessing and a curse.”
The midday sun felt like a heating pad to the cool breeze blowing off the water as I walked down the boardwalk toward the Sunny Day Cafe. I was meeting Dad for a quick lunch in between my duties at the bookstore and my delivery business. Having a team of two homeschooling moms and their teens helping out with the businesses freed me up to do more things. It had all come about when I was trying to help solve a murder. But ever since I hired them, there hadn’t been a single crime in town. Slipping into a chair under a striped umbrella, I caught Dominic’s eye and waved him over.
“Hey, Dominic. I’ll have my usual, please,” I said. Not long after, Dad showed up and squeezed his tall frame into the seat opposite me. “Afternoon, mermaid,” he greeted, leaning over to give me a quick peck on the cheek. “How’s my girl doing on this fine opening day?”
As we chatted about the hectic preparations at Beach Breeze B&B, our food arrived. While I enjoyed bites of my shrimp po’boy, I filled Dad in on the paranormal ‘expert’ who was supposed to check into the B&B later.
“His name’s Montgomery Ellsworth Price, the Third,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What a mouthful, huh? I did some research, and he seems more like a charlatan than a real researcher.”
Dad, who was not just the mayor of Magnolia Bay but also a witch like me, nodded thoughtfully. “Well, let Mr. Price look for his ghosts, as long as he doesn’t stir up any trouble or expose secrets best left alone.”
I gave Dad a knowing look. In Magnolia Bay, some secrets were meant to stay buried.
After lunch, I drove to the B&B to help Bailey with any lastminute preparations and the first guest arrivals. She didn’t need the help; everything was as ready as it could be, and she kept glancing at her watch.
“You look nervous,” I said softly, aware that we had guests already checked in. “What’s up?”
“I’m just curious when our infamous new guest will arrive...”
“Simmer down,” I assured her. “From what I’ve read about the man, you won’t miss him. I just hope he doesn’t make the other guests uncomfortable. From the accounts I’ve read, he’s a little or a lot, um, shall we say, forward, abrasive, rude, and arrogant. I haven’t heard him speak, but I envision him loud, with that Noo Yawk accent.”
Chapter Two
The next morning, I found myself sitting at a table in the back at Perk & Pastry, sipping coffee with Abby and Dad. We chatted before going to our respective jobs for the day. We decided to give Bailey a few days to get into her breakfast routine with the guest before joining her for coffee in the mornings. I filled them in on Mr. Price’s abrupt entrance the evening before.
“He waltzed right past me, asking about ghosts before even saying hello,” I said incredulously. “The guy has zero manners.”
Abby put down her coffee mug and grinned. “What do you say we have some Halloween fun with our so-called paranormal expert? How about experimenting with that crystal orb you found at the antique store?”
I chuckled. “That’s actually a fantastic idea! Let’s see if it has any magical powers or if it’s just a decorative paperweight.”
My dad looked skeptical. “Fooling around with unknown forces could be risky. Especially at a time like this.”
“By “time like this” are you referring to the thinner veil rumors surrounding Halloween, or because there’s a paranormal ‘expert’,” I used air quotes around the word expert, “nosing around town?”
“Don’t worry, Mayor,” Abby said reassuringly. “We’ll be careful. A quick peek shouldn’t hurt, right?”
Dad sighed. “Famous last words. Just be cautious, especially since this Mr. Price is snooping around, looking for proof that people like us exist.”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Abby retorted, with a salute prompting laughter around the table.
I smiled at my dad and patted his hand. “Don’t worry; if anything goes wrong, we’ll call the mayor.”
“That’s precisely what I’m worried about!” he said with a chuckle and that familiar gleam in his eye when he was around me and my childhood forever friends.
We finished breakfast and parted ways; Abby and I were excited for some paranormal investigating later on.
As I walked along the boardwalk, I saw Mr. Price peering into shop windows and scribbling notes. The other shopkeepers looked wary, and for good reason. I slowly followed him, intrigued by what he might actually be looking for in our little town. At Sundrenched Sweets, he cut in line to announce, “I’m with the International Institute of Paranormal Studies. I just need to ask you a few questions.”
I rolled my eyes as I stood at the back of the store. Sandra, the sweet owner of the bakery, looked annoyed, clearly not thrilled with his line of questioning.
I decided Mr. Price wasn’t causing any harm to anyone but his own reputation and returned to my bookstore. On the way, I stopped and did my part to help Tim hang plastic skeletons on surfboards at Ocean Motion Rentals. Ms. Wilkerson strolled past, walking her Great Dane, Grendel, dressed in a dragon costume. “Grendel’s the best dragon I’ve seen on the boardwalk today,” I called out to her as she went by.
The festive atmosphere was infectious, and despite Mr. Price’s antics, I was excited about the real magic we planned to explore later that night.
By Tuesday afternoon, the Orb had already found its place on my coffee table. Like a magnet, it seemed to pull my attention away from the mountain of paperwork I was supposed to be reviewing. I looked at it and sighed, “What have you gotten me into? Though I’m
tempted, I agreed to wait for the girls before giving you a test drive. They’ll be here later.”
“What do you think the inanimate object is going to tell you?” Elvis sent the question to me telepathically. “Maybe it can tell you if you should date the cowboy. If he’s waiting for you to invite him to stay in Magnolia Bay.”
“That’s absurd. Magnolia Bay is a town. He’s perfectly capable of moving here if he wants. No one is invited to move to a place,” I chided my cat. Truth was, I would as soon spar with the feline as deal with the paperwork on my lap.
“One might be seeking an invitation if the only reason to move to the place is interest in a special someone,” Elvis said.
“Shouldn’t you be chasing mice or something?” I sent back.
“No, I only eat shrimp, the fresh catch of the day, and in a desperate moment, that horrible grocery store canned pate you serve me. I’m too beautiful to eat a raw catch.”
“Well, I think that sounds like a good idea. Let’s go see what fresh catch is available today and maybe I’ll serve the ladies dinner tonight when we give Iris a try tonight.”
“Iris? You’re calling the ball Iris?” mean cat asked.
“Yes. It makes perfect sense. The goddess Iris links heaven and earth, and the iris is an important part of the eye that helps us see. I predict that Iris will help us see something. Though what, I have yet to discover.”
Magnolia Bay transformed into a Halloween wonderland—or perhaps a nightmare, depending on your perspective. Pumpkins perched on every windowsill, witches hung from the trees, and little goblins (the children, mostly) were already practicing their ‘trick or treats’.
Dressed as Alice in Wonderland, I headed out of my apartment, through the bookstore, and spoke to Laura Ann, who was managing the shop. The store had been quiet, and Lauren was out making a few deliveries. Everyone was getting ready for the start of Magnolia Bay’s famous week-long Halloween festival.
The town, including the boardwalk, was freshly adorned with Halloween décor. My first destination was Whalebones Antiques.
Lane had texted me about some documents she’d found that could potentially trace the origins of the Serafin Orb, recently renamed Iris. Then, I would head to the docks and see what fresh catch was available.
As I walked toward Whalebones, I couldn’t help but notice the slew of new faces—tourists eager for the festival’s spook-filled offerings. But amidst the families and young couples, one figure stood out: the one and only self-proclaimed ghostbuster Ellsworthless.
I had watched one of his online talks at Abby’s insistence. “Definitive” proof had consisted of grainy images and wild theories. But what really annoyed me was his tone, his absolute certainty that he alone had unraveled the secrets of the occult.
Montgomery Ellsworth-less Over-Price was holding court to a small crowd in front of Whalebones. I felt a twinge of irritation. Lane, the shop owner and my friend, wasn’t one for the spotlight, especially not when it was stolen by a charlatan.
“Ah, you must be Cassie,” he said, spotting me as I approached the shop. “I’ve heard much about you.”
“Really? I wish I could say the same,” I replied, my tone more frosty than polite.
He chuckled, clearly missing the point. “Ah, yes. Skepticism is the lens through which clarity is found.”
“Or delusion, depending on who’s looking,” I shot back.
The crowd chuckled. Price’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m looking forward to speaking with you more, Cassie. Perhaps you’ll attend my lecture tonight?”
“I’ll think about it,” I lied.
As I stepped into Whalebones, Lane was behind the counter, rolling her eyes. “What was that circus all about?” I asked her.
“He claims he’s here to explore the ‘true story’ behind Magnolia Bay’s supernatural history,” Lane explained, air-quoting with her fingers.
I sighed. “Great, just what we need—a false prophet. I wasn’t aware that Magnolia Bay had rumors circulating about a supernatural past. Were you?”
“No, not really,” she answered, glancing out the shop windows at the man outside.
“I wonder what really brought him here?” I asked aloud, not expecting an answer.
Lane handed me a folder. “Take a look at this later. It might have clues about your Orb.”
I thanked her and headed back out to the boardwalk. I was delighted to see the crowd had dispersed in front of Lane’s store. Until I spotted Colton talking to Price. Whatever they were discussing seemed intense. The thought nagged at me as I walked away, an unsettling premonition taking root.
Later that afternoon, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Abby. “Price’s lecture starting in 30 minutes. Still coming?”
Choices, always choices. The pull between what I wanted and what I should do felt like two magnetic fields in opposition.
“Oh, all right. I suppose it would be irresponsible to not keep an eye on that guy since I’m the priestess of the Boardwalk coven, right Elvis?” I muttered, grabbing my coat and strapping the cat on for the trip to the venue. I had a feeling that Montgomery Ellsworth Price III’s lecture would be the train wreck I didn’t want to watch but somehow couldn’t look away from. And if my gut was telling me anything, it was that Price was kicking a hornet’s nest he knew nothing about. The question was, would he get stung, or would the hornets flit away?
I walked into the town hall, a large room at the back of City Hall, where Montgomery Ellsworth Price III’s lecture was taking place. The room was buzzing with anticipation, a mixture of locals and out-of-towners. I saw Abby waving at me from a row near the back, a strategic position for a quick escape. I joined her, sliding into the seat just as the lights dimmed.
Price walked onto the makeshift stage, his tweed suit and monocle shining under the spotlight. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “prepare yourselves for a journey into the unknown, a glimpse into the other side—”
“—of idiocy,” I whispered to Abby, who stifled a laugh.
As he prattled on about ley lines, cursed objects, and spectral sightings, my eyes wandered to Bailey, Colton, and my dad. Bailey was busy texting, likely lining up her next date, while Colton seemed genuinely engrossed, taking notes even. Dad was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest, watching Price over the top of his glasses. I knew that look well. He wasn’t buying a word Price was saying.
When Price opened the floor for questions, hands shot up.
“Ah, yes, the young gentleman there,” he said, pointing at Colton.
“Do you believe Magnolia Bay has real witches?” Colton asked, an innocent question wrapped around a loaded gun.
Price smiled, obviously delighted. “Ah, the witch theory. A favorite of mine, actually. I do believe that the presence of witches could explain many of the occurrences around Magnolia Bay.”
Bailey leaned over and whispered something to Colton. From her smirk, I guessed it was less than flattering about our guest speaker. Colton, however, looked like he was grappling with something, as if he had tasted something bitter and couldn’t decide if he liked it.
Price’s eyes then found mine. “And what about you, Miss Cunningham? Do you have a question?”
Caught off guard, I hesitated. But what the heck. “Do you actually believe everything you’re saying, or is this all for show?”
He chuckled. “Skepticism, as I’ve said, is—.”
“A virtue you’ve yet to practice,” I finished for him. The crowd laughed, a mixture of nervous titters and hearty guffaws. Abby gave me a high-five, down low.
Price’s face turned red. I wasn’t sure if it was embarrassment or anger, but he recovered with a professional smile. “Well, I’ll be exploring the wildlife preserve tomorrow. Perhaps I’ll find evidence that can convert even the hardest of skeptics.”
The room erupted in chatter at this announcement. I exchanged a glance with Abby. We both knew that the wildlife preserve was a sanctuary for the local shapeshifters, a secret kept from outsiders. Heck, it was even a secret from insiders. Most of the
locals in this town had no idea there was a witch coven and a complete zoo of shifters just beyond the city limit sign. If Price stumbled upon them, it would be a disaster for everyone involved. All of the ‘gifted’ ones in our town. Yours truly and most of the present company included.
After the lecture, Colton approached me. “You didn’t have to humiliate him, you know.”
“I didn’t,” I replied. “He did that to himself, if he’s even capable of the emotion.”
Colton shook his head. “You’re so sure about everything, Cassie. Sometimes, I wish you’d just let people believe what they want to believe.”
“And let him make a mockery of something he knows nothing about?” I countered.
“We all have our reasons for what we do,” he said, suddenly serious. “Even Price. Could we talk?”
“Sure, yeah,” I heard myself say. “It’s just that right now, I have company coming for dinner and plans for the evening. Touch base tomorrow?”
“Okay, you know how to reach me. Call me at your convenience,” he said.
As I watched him walk away, his words settled in. He sounded rejected. I thought about that as I walked back to my van. Why wouldn’t he feel rejected? We had chatted nearly every day on the phone and through messages from the time he went home at the end of the Labor Day weekend, until he’d arrived back in Magnolia Bay without the tether that would pull him back to Clarksdale at the end of the holiday. Since he arrived back in Magnolia Bay, it felt like he no longer fit in my life. I would soon have to deal with my feelings and why that was. But first, there was a bigger problem. Maybe not bigger, but definitely more urgent.
I couldn’t shake off a lingering sense of dread. Price had plans to explore the wildlife preserve, and I had a gut feeling that his quest for proof would unravel the delicate tapestry of secrets that Magnolia Bay was woven from.
I invited Dad to join Abby, Bailey, and me for dinner at my apartment. He declined, saying that he wanted to keep an eye on Price as the festival started up that evening.
“I need to make sure he doesn’t stir up a witch hunt or scare off the tourists. I’ll see you girls later. Have fun,” he said. He walked away, and I could tell he was truly concerned about something. I wondered if we could crack the code to using Iris and if she could tell us what would happen.
On the drive back home, I asked Elvis what Price wasn’t saying.
“I was too far away, and there were too many people between us. I couldn’t get a read on him.” Elvis said.
After dinner, Abby, Bailey, and I huddled around the mysterious orb on my coffee table. Candles flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
“Place your hands on the orb,” Abby instructed. There wasn’t room for all three of us to place both hands on the object, so we each placed our four fingertips from one hand on the glass, leaving the crown of the orb uncovered. The surface was smooth and cool. Abby began murmuring an incantation, her eyes closed.
“Magicae revela, in te potentia quae cela, per cristallum veritatem nos monstra, Et secreta tua nobis ostenda,” she chanted softly. (Magic, reveal the power within you that you conceal, through the crystal show us the truth, and unveil your secrets to us.)
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the orb started glowing, its light dim but noticeable. Like my boots, a green glow started along the vines and scrolls on the base and spread inside the crystal ball. It swirled like a growing fog.
I stared into the top of the ball between our fingers, captivated by the shadowy forms that danced briefly within. The green fog dissipated, and for a split second, there were shadows. And then nothing.
“Did you see that?” Abby gasped. “I felt something!”
Chapter Three
The next morning, on my way to Abby’s house, I bumped into Lane. “Cassie,” she greeted with a half-smile, “heard about the drama at the lecture. You really know how to stir the pot, huh?”
“If the pot is full of nonsense, it needs a good stirring,” I said. “I just gave it a little whisk. Can’t let a so-called ‘expert’ get away with scamming folks.”
I gave Lane a playful nudge. “Besides, I reckon he’s just a big city charlatan looking to get attention. Like an unruly toddler, sometimes negative attention is the way to go, right? Probably doesn’t even know a cauldron from a colander.”
Lane chuckled. “I’ll admit, I was skeptical myself about what he might say and how the locals would react. Maybe your stirrin’ wasn’t such a bad thing after all.”
I tipped an imaginary hat. “Why, thank you. Just doing my civic duty to expose flimflam artists,” trying to sound more confident than I felt. The truth was my exchange with Colton had left me questioning my actions. Was I too harsh on Price? Was my skepticism because I feared for my town? Was I, in my desire to protect the secrets of Magnolia Bay, becoming as reckless as him? Could I be protesting too much and adding fuel to his fire?
Lane sensed my unease. “You okay, hon?”
“I will be, I hope,” I muttered and continued on my way. Lane watched me go, her eyes filled with a worry that mirrored my own.
At Abby’s, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Bailey was there, already in a heated discussion with Abby, when I walked in. “We can’t just let this guy dig around our town,” Bailey was saying.
“I agree,” said Abby, “but what are we going to do about it?”
Bailey saw me enter and rolled her eyes. “Maybe the almighty priestess, dressed as Sherlock Holmes, can do something about it.”
“Whoa, Bailey,” I said, “Why the sudden animosity towards me? What did I do?”
“You’re so busy antagonizing that guy that you’re not even realizing the danger he poses to my people!” Bailey declared.
“Hey, of course I realize it, and I care,” I said. “But in all fairness, you didn’t know they were your people until recently. I agree we need to figure out a way to stop him. I need coffee, though. I came straight here. Lane was also upset about me badgering the guy yesterday. One thing I know, you’re upset; Colton was angry about it, and Lane was irked too. That tells me I screwed up. I’m sorry for that, and I’m willing to do whatever I need to do to rectify the situation. Just help me figure out how to stop the man, and we can all go back to being friends and existing peacefully.”
Abby, dressed as a 19th century judge with powdered wig and all, intervened before Bailey could retort. “Cassie’s right. We need to figure out how to keep Price away from the preserve without arousing suspicion. He’s after the witches, and we need to protect them too, but he’s about to stumble into something he’s not expecting.”
“We could always tell him the reserve is restricted,” Bailey, dressed as Red Riding Hood, suggested, “a delicate ecosystem or something.”
I shook my head. “He’s stubborn and far too curious. Telling him it’s off-limits will only encourage him, and if he’s truly any kind of investigator will just convince him we have something to hide. Those who protest too much and all that. Which lands us right in his crosshairs. I feel as though he’s searching for something inanimate. He’s not looking at us as though he thinks the people of the town are what he’s trying to prove something about, just that there is something mysterious and unexplainable happening here.”
“We need something more persuasive,” Abby mused. “Something to make him believe that he’s better off not going to the forest.”
That’s when it hit me. “What about giving him a fabricated clue, a red herring that leads him away from the preserve? Make him think he’s onto something big, but far from there. Outside of town. If we could send him East away from the preserve, that would be best.”
Bailey grinned. “Now, that’s a plan I can get behind.”
After hashing out the details, we split up to put our plan into action. Abby would craft a fake historical document citing a different location as a hotspot for paranormal activities. Bailey, as the hostess of the B&B with access to his room, would ‘anonymously’ tip him off about the document, and I would place the bait.
Everything was going smoothly until I got a text from Colton. Elvis and I had just half buried a false artifact under falling leaves and loose soil near a lake on the Eastern outskirts of town, and I was headed back to the bookstore to place the clue in the spot referenced in the document Bailey would slide under Price’s door.
“Can we talk?”
Was it worth unraveling more threads by ignoring him, or was it time to confront whatever was simmering between us? My finger hovered over the reply button, heavy with indecision.
Finally, I texted back: “Sure, let’s talk. Meet me for lunch at The Sunny Day.”
As fate would have it, Price showed up at the bookstore just as I was leaving to meet Colton for lunch. Though punctuality was one of my biggest pet peeves, I was going to be late to lunch. I had to at least see this through to a point.
“I need some service,” the arrogant man said, crossing the threshold into the bookstore.
“Hello, Mr. Price. Welcome to Seabreeze Sagas,” I greeted him. I sounded like sugar but felt like saccharin. “How can we help you today? I hope you’re enjoying our quaint little town. Did you enjoy the Halloween festival last night? I guess this is particularly your favorite time of year.”
“I’m not here to make your acquaintance. I’m looking for a book. I doubt such a small place will have it, but do you, by chance,
have a copy of Compendium Maleficarum? Specifically, the 1929 English translation.”
“We don’t carry classic books like that,” Laura Ann said. “We mostly stock contemporary books that our citizens and tourists are looking for. But the library in Pass Christian might be able to help you.”
“Actually, I think there is a copy!” I said. “Laura Ann, in the stock room there are a couple of boxes on the top shelf of books I cleared out of inventory. I’m pretty sure I recall that being one. Mr. Price, I’m afraid I’m late for a lunch meeting, but if you can wait, I think we might have what you’re looking for.” I didn’t wait for an answer. I waved and bolted out the door onto the boardwalk. Once I was past the store’s picture window, I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Abby and Bailey. It simply said, fishon theline, headingto lunchwithColton.
When I dashed into the restaurant, certain that Colton was probably feeling stood up, I spotted him. He didn’t appear stressed or impatient. He saw me and smiled. Then he stood up, pulled out the chair across from him, and when I reached him, he took my hand, gently kissed the back of it, and said, “Thanks for agreeing to meet me.”
“Colton, I’m sorry,” I said. “I feel bad that I haven’t even had time to have a conversation with you since you got here. It’s been really hectic.”
“I know. The festival is a lot,” he said.
We placed our orders, and I asked how he was doing. He brushed it off without talking about the loss of his grandmother. He asked about all the festival activities and which ones I would be taking part in. I asked if he was going to return to Nashville to pursue his music career now that his caretaker duties at home were over. I should not have gone there.
“Actually, that’s what I’ve been hoping to talk to you about,” he said.
“Ah ha!” said a loud, obnoxious voice behind me. Colton shot up out of his chair and rounded the table as fast as I could turn around to see the owner of the highbrow New York accent. “I found
you. I found it. The proof I need to show you and all the skeptics that Magnolia Bay is a cesspool of paranormal creatures!”
“What on earth are you talking about?” I said, aware every eye in the restaurant was watching the show.
“Buried in your bookstore is the evidence that will lead me to the coven grounds. I will lead an expedition there this afternoon for anyone interested. I’m beginning to wonder if you knew it all along. That’s why you’ve called me a charlatan and scam artist. You buried the book in your backroom, thinking no one would be the wiser.”
Colton started to say something, and I held up my hand to stop him.
“Mr. Price, I’m guilty of nothing of the sort. I’m a businesswoman in this town and known by all. I’m only guilty of trying to help a customer. You see, I inherited the bookstore earlier this year. That book was there when I went through the inventory. It’s old, and there isn’t much interest in it, so I removed it to make shelf space for modern books my customers are actually interested in purchasing. You are perfectly free to organize whatever expedition you propose will vindicate you, but I assure you, I suspect all you’ll find are perhaps some wild geese and a snipe or two. Depending on what time of day you go, of course.”
“Well, we’ll see!” Price huffed.
“Indeed. Tell me, Mr. Price, since you’ve commanded an audience here, would you share with the patrons what book you asked for, who it was written by, and when.”
I can’t tell you how much I loved how the pufferfish in front of me bloated and, in an effort to prove his knowledge, made an absolute fool of himself.
“The book is Compendium Maleficarum. It was originally written in Latin by Francesco Maria Guazzo and published in Milan, Italy, in 1608. In 1929, it was translated into English. It’s an established book of witches’ abilities and used by witch hunters for centuries.”
“Right. And you now believe that this book written before the United States was even a country is somehow proof of a coven in Magnolia Bay, Mississippi? My, my, my. I’ve lived here my whole life
and never knew we had such an international reputation. Historically speaking, of course.”
The restaurant erupted in a mix of laughter and applause. But I heard one tourist say to the man at her table, “What a fabulous Halloween skit. I’m glad we chose the right restaurant for lunch. This is such fun!”
I winked at Colton, and we sat down at our table as Montgomery Ellsworth Price III stormed out of the restaurant.
“Well played,” he said softly leaning into the table so as to not be overheard.
“Where were we before we were so aggressively interrupted?” I asked with a chuckle. My mood suddenly felt lighter. Price had taken the bait and, I was certain, was headed to the opposite side of town, away from the forest preserve. “Oh wait, one sec, I need to send a message,” I told Colton, pulling my phone out. I sent a text to Abby and Bailey that read snipe hunt underway. I chuckled and turned my attention back to Colton.
“Nashville. You asked me about Nashville,” he said.
“Yes, that’s right. When are you going?” I asked.
“I’m not,” he answered.
“We need to talk,” Elvis sent me an urgent telepathic 911. But though my heart seemed frozen in my chest, I needed to know what Colton meant, and I decided to ignore the cat. “Now!” came the telepathic reply from the cat, followed by a loud meow and claws digging into flesh.
“Ow!” I yelled. The claws didn’t retract. I was afraid to move, but I knew I had to, “Colton, I’m sorry. Apparently, Elvis is in some gastro distress. I need to take him to the restroom; I’ll be right back.” As soon as I excused ourselves, Elvis removed his claws from my chest.
“My gawd, Elvis. What, in the name of all that’s holy, is this all about?” I said, once we were in the bathroom and I’d checked that no one was there. It’s nice to be able to communicate telepathically to keep the fact that the cat talks to me private, but sometimes I need to talk out loud.
“I need to tell you something before Colton tells you his something!” Elvis said.
“Okay, what is it? And why is it so important to tell me before Colton tells me his thing? He already said he isn’t going to Nashville. I suppose that’s what he’s been trying to tell me.”
“No, it’s not, and that’s important, but not as important as the fact that Price is suspicious. He didn’t completely fall for the ruse. He’ll go check that out for sure, but he’s still intent on checking out the forest, too.”
“Okay, fine. Why was that worth doing bodily harm to me?”
“You need to tell Bailey to alert the shifters,” Elvis said.
“Why? The shifters deal with normal people hiking and exploring in the forest all the time. They know how to handle that just like the witches deal with both the tourists and the normal townspeople every day here in town.” Suddenly, my boots grew warm. At first, I didn’t notice it because it was soothing on the chilly day, but then I got the tingly electrical feeling. Elvis was on to something.
“And why is this important for me to do right this minute? You said he’ll check out the Spring Lake the document alluded to first, right? So, there’s time.”
“Once Colton shares his news, I suspect you’re going to need some time before you worry about Price. Make the call. Please.” Elvis said.
I compromised because there were two ladies in the restroom now, and I couldn’t very well carry on that conversation with witnesses.
Cassie: Hey, Elvis said Price is going to check out theSpring Lakeareabutthathe’sstillintentongoingtotheforest.Hesayswe needtogivetheshiftersaheadsup. Idon’tknowwhy;it’safeeling, butmybootsthoughtsotoo. Canyouhandlethat?I’minasituation withColton.
Bailey: I’m hoping the situation is horizontal. I’ll call my parentsandgetthemonit.
Cassie: 100%vertical
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"Oh, surely you know!" answered Norah, with some surprise at the question, since, from several words dropped by himself in the course of the day, and from what she had heard of him from her mother, Norah had judged her uncle to be a very religious man. "My mistress has often told me that all believers go to heaven, because the Lord Jesus died for them, and has washed away all their sins."
"Right, quite right," said the sailor fervently; "that's the pole—star Faith always points to, that's what we must always keep in view. But who are believers, Norah? Though heaven lie straight afore us all, I take it that few will be so bold as to say that all who are called Christians will get to heaven."
Norah did not answer for two or three minutes, and then said, "Are not believers those who love the Lord Jesus Christ?"
"Right again!" cried Ned Franks. "And now tell me, Norah, is it not true that when we love any one much, we are ready and glad to do something for his sake?"
"Oh! Yes, indeed!" exclaimed Norah. "I've often thought that. I should like to do something for the sake of the Lord Jesus Christ. I was lately reading to my mistress of the early martyrs, and then it seemed to be such a great and noble thing to die for religion."
"It is just as great and noble a thing, Norah, my girl, to live for religion, and that is what all believers must do; for we only deceive ourselves when we think that without obedience to God we have either true faith or love."
"I don't quite know what you mean," said Norah.
"Do you remember the words of Christ? 'He that taketh not his cross and followeth after Me, is not worthy of Me.'" *
* Matthew x. 38
"I can't tell what my cross is," said Norah, "nor how I can take it up."
"We take up our cross whenever we do for conscience what we would not do for pleasure," observed Ned, "or when we give up for the Lord's sake what we would willingly have for our own. To come to the point, Norah—for I like plain sailing, and you'll understand twenty times better if I speak of a simple fact would you mind telling me frankly whether Mrs. Martin gave you that tea?"
"No," replied Norah, faintly.
"Thank God, she at least is truthful," thought the sailor.
"And did you," he continued aloud, "buy that tea for your mother?"
Norah silently shook her head.
"Then tell me, child, how did you get it?"
Ned bent down his tall head, but could scarcely catch the low answer, "I took it."
"Just what I feared," said Ned Franks.
"But indeed—indeed," cried Norah Peele, "I did not know that I was doing so wrong! I would not have touched money or anything like that, but—but mistress would never miss it, I thought, and mother always expects some little present
when I come home, and I've nothing to spare out of my wages, and so many, many do the same thing. I never was told that it was such a sin!"
"Did not conscience tell you, my child? Did not the Word of God tell you? Where it exhorts 'servants to be obedient unto their own masters, and to please them well in all things; not answering again, NOT PURLOINING, but shewing all good fidelity, that they may adorn the doctrine of God our Saviour in all things.'" *
* Titus ii. 9-10.
"I did wrong, very wrong," murmured Norah, "but it is so difficult to deny one's self, and to deny others, and always to keep duty before one, however hard it may be."
"That is our cross," observed Ned.
"But I thought," said Norah, "indeed I'm sure, that both my mistress and the clergyman have said over and over again, that the Lord bore the cross for us, and that now we've nothing to do to earn our own salvation; we've just to believe, and we're safe."
"Do you forget what the Bible says, 'the devils also believe and tremble.'" *
"They do not believe and love, as we do."
"They do not believe and obey as we must do, Norah. What were the words of the Lord to those whom He called to be His disciples, were they not, 'follow Me'? And if we follow the Holy Saviour, think you it can be on a path of sin? God forbid! Nay, St John says, 'Whosoever is born of God doth
not commit sin.' † We must put on the breastplate of righteousness, if we would follow the Lord."
* James ii. 9 † 1 John iii. 9.
"But no one, not the best, has nothing more to do with sin," murmured Norah.
"True enough," said Ned Franks, stopping in his walk, as if to give more force to his words, "but they have to do with it as an enemy, not as a master, they have to fight it, not to obey. Look you here, Norah," continued the sailor, seeking an illustration from objects most familiar to his own mind; "if you and I saw a frigate, with the Union Jack of old England floating aloft, would we not say at once that she was a British vessel?"
"Yes," replied Norah, wondering at the abrupt turn in the conversation.
"But if we saw her, with all sails set, making right for a Russian port, and if we could see through a glass that there were Russian sailors in the rigging, a Russian pilot at the helm, a Russian captain giving commands, should we believe that the frigate was English, if half-a-dozen Union Jacks were hoisted from the mast?"
"No," replied Norah, quickly, "we should think that the flags were hung up for a sham."
"And it is a sham, nothing but a sham," exclaimed Ned, walking on again, and faster than before, "for man, woman, or child to set up Christian profession, when they care nothing for Christian practice; to hang out, as it were, the
flag of the Cross, while self-will steers where Satan directs, and they're hearing right on for the rock of destruction."
"Think you that a real Christian would willingly hold parley with any sin, far less welcome it upon deck? No, it is his enemy, his Saviour's enemy, which he must resist to the death. If it tries to board, as 'tis always trying, he must yield it not a foot, not an inch; he must hurl it over the bulwarks, throw it into the sea, give no quarter to sin, in the name and in the strength of the Great Captain of his salvation!" Ned's tone was raised, his eyes flashed, and he instinctively clenched his hand as thus, in figurative language, he described the Christian's secret struggle against sin.
Norah felt roused and animated, though she hardly realised the full meaning of what the sailor had said.
"Do you not think," asked the girl after a short pause, "that it is not easy for us always to tell what is sin and what is not? People view the same thing in such different ways."
"It seems easy enough to me," replied the simple-minded tar. "We've not to trouble ourselves with what this person thinks, or that person fancies, but come straight for our sailing orders to the Lord. Is that what He would approve? Is that what He would have done in my place? I guess, Norah, that you would not have taken that tea had you known that your mistress's eye was upon you, much less had you felt that your heavenly Captain looked on."
Norah drooped her head, and was silent.
"So you see, dear child," continued Ned, "that we've a daily battle to fight, and a daily cross to take up, if our faith is a real thing, if our religion be not a sham. The Lord's Cross was the cross of sacrifice, no one but Himself could bear
that, and that He endured for our sakes; our cross is the cross of daily self-denial, which we must take up for His sake. If we've anything, great or small, that is displeasing to our Lord, be it a bad habit, a sinful pleasure, a foolish companion, or even a book, we must give it up at once, and for ever. A Christian must be holy, for his Master is holy; he must wear the breastplate of righteousness, the guard for the heart against sin."
"I should like to wear it," said Norah, whose thoughts had lately been more turned to the subject of religion than they had ever been in her childhood's home.
"Then I've but one more bit of advice for you, my girl," cried the sailor; "'tis one I should like you to get from wiser lips than mine. Ask the Lord for that breastplate of righteousness, for one that will stand rough work and hard blows; don't trust in any pasteboard good resolutions of your own."
And with this simple but important word of counsel, Ned Franks closed a conversation which was to leave a lasting impression upon the mind of his youthful niece.
NORAH PEELE was of an affectionate disposition and an eager spirit, and she was at an age when there is an
CHAPTER IV. PUTTING ON ARMOUR.
attraction in anything new. What she had heard of religion from Mrs. Martin, and at the church which she constantly attended, had drawn her heart towards her Saviour, and made her delight in feeling that she owed all her hopes of heaven to Him. Norah took pleasure in going to church, especially in listening to the sweet music, and her eyes would fill with tears when she heard or read of the sufferings of Christ.
But Norah's religion had been one of feeling rather than of practice; its power had not overcome evil habits which she had acquired in her home. It had been rather like fragrant oil floating on the top of a vase of water, than like wine, which spreads through the whole, giving colour and sweetness to every drop. Norah's religion had been too much like a Sunday dress, not worn in her working hours; it had not made her perfectly honest, just, and true in all her dealings. Norah had come to Christ, like the rich young man of whom we read in the gospel, but she had not yet learned to follow Christ in the steps of His holy life.
The few blunt words of the sailor had opened Norah's eyes to the truth. Had she hitherto deserved the name of a Christian at all? Had not hers been a false profession? If so, should she not, from henceforth, resolve to lead a new life, to be what she had wished to appear, to deny sinful self, to take up her cross and follow her Lord!
Norah, with the eagerness of her nature, determined to do all this, perhaps without sufficiently counting the cost, perhaps without dwelling enough on the warning, "ask the Lord for that breastplate of righteousness which will stand rough work and hard blows; don't trust in any pasteboard resolutions of your own." From henceforth, Norah determined that she would let her light so shine before
men, that they should see her good works, and glorify her Father in heaven.
When Norah had fulfilled her usual evening duties, read to Mrs. Martin, made her tea, seen to her comforts, and left her in quiet repose for the night, the young girl sought her own little room, with her mind and heart still full of what her sailor uncle had said. She had usually amused herself at night with reading the trashy novel lent by Sophy Puller, but now for the first time Norah Peele paused before she opened the book.
"I wonder if this is one of the things which I must give up?" thought Norah. "Certainly it makes me sit up very late at night, and mistress wonders how I can use up so many candles, and she has often told me to go to bed early, for fear I should fall asleep over my work, and set the house on fire. And then these novels do fill my head so full of thoughts—some very bad ones I fear! While I was reading the Bible to mistress, I could not help my mind running on that dreadful woman and that horrible murder, they interested me so! Yet what is the harm in reading; how shall I know if it is really my duty to give up this pleasure?"
Norah half opened the dirty volume.
"What did my uncle say? He told me to bring everything straight to the Lord, to ask—Is this what He would approve, what He would have done in my place?"
Norah shut the book, and thrust it into a drawer: her conscience had given an honest answer to the question, and the pleasure which she felt from the consciousness that she had for once exercised self-denial, quite made up to the little maid for the amusement which she had lost. Norah
went to rest that night more happy than she had ever felt before.
But when Norah awoke in the grey dawn, and rose to perform her round of daily duties, the first fervour of excited feeling had had a little time to cool, and she began more seriously to consider what difficulties might beset her in her new course of practical obedience. A variety of things, small in themselves, yet of great importance, because they were matters of conscience, pressed on the young girl's mind.
Must she not so much as take a reel of cotton that was not her own—nor touch that plateful of sweet cakes which had hitherto offered an unresisted temptation? Must she act at every moment of her life with the sense that God's eye was upon her? Did real faith require all this?
But what weighed most of all on poor Norah was the idea of Sophy Puller and her stolen meals at the house. Norah was a lively young girl, exceedingly fond of mirth, and though she loved her good old mistress, the idea of having no society more gay than that of the invalid lady seemed to Norah as dreary as that of a life in prison. Sophy's gossip, Sophy's books, Sophy's friendship, had been the great delight of an existence which, without them, so Norah believed, she would find insupportably dull.
"It will be dreadfully difficult to know what to say to Sophy," was Norah's reflection, as when going at noon to make some little purchase for her lady, she turned the subject over in her mind for at least the twentieth time. "She has not talked with my uncle, and I shall never be able to make her understand what he thinks, she will consider it all so absurd! I almost hope that dear Sophy will not come to see me to-day, above all that she may not come at tea-time! I
could hardly bear to let her see that I think it wrong to entertain her at my lady's expense! She would laugh at my scruples—or else she would be so hurt and angry! Oh! It would grieve me to vex or offend her. To lose Sophy for a friend would be a dreadful trial indeed! It would be more than I could endure!"
As Norah pursued her way, with her brow knit with anxious thought, as if the cares of a nation were upon her, she chanced to pass a haberdasher's shop which had always for her great attraction, as one of her besetting weaknesses was a love of dress, which weakness had been greatly fostered by her intercourse with Sophy. Instinctively Norah paused before the large plate-glass window, and looked at the tempting array of fashionable dresses set out with prices affixed.
"What—that black silk robe with flounces and jacket complete for only two guineas! If ever I saw such a bargain!" exclaimed Norah, whose great ambition was to possess such a Sunday dress, as Sophy had told her that black silk was the most genteel thing in the world, and made a girl look just like a real lady at once! "But two whole guineas!" reflected Norah. "Whenever shall I get that to spend on a gown, when I can hardly afford even this coloured print that I wear!"
A carriage drew up at the door, and an elegantly-dressed lady descended and entered the shop.
"There goes one who can spend guineas upon guineas, and buy everything pretty and new, without any trouble, and without feeling that she is doing anything wrong. How happy she must be in that lovely bonnet and feathers, and satin mantle trimmed with such beautiful lace!"
So thought the poor silly child, who had little idea of any troubles of a different kind from her own.
"I'm sure," and Norah breathed a sigh of discontent, "I'm sure that the poor have much harder trials to bear than the rich, they need much more self-denial, their cross is much harder to bear!"
Norah turned away from the shop with a feeling of bitter envy, to which covetousness had given rise. Against such strokes of the enemy, her newly-tried breastplate was not proof.
The next shop passed by Norah was of very different appearance from the last, but offered temptations of its own.
"A mangle—and to be had for five pounds! That is just what mother is always wanting! Oh! How I wish that I had money to buy it! I wonder why things are made so uneven in the world, why some have thousands of pounds to throw away on their pleasures, while others have a life-long struggle to earn their daily bread!"
Norah returned to the house out of spirits, because, though she hardly knew it, a mistrust of the love of her Heavenly Father had crept like a shadow over her heart. She felt more than ever, how dreadfully hard it would be to risk offending Sophy, and that to follow the Lord fully is no light and easy thing. CHAPTER V.
PROVING THE ARMOUR.
"WELL, Norah my darling, I've just slipped in for five minutes to see you, I can't stop long, but just pour me out a cup like a dear, I'm half grilled in this dreadful hot weather!" And the milliner's girl threw herself on a chair, and began fanning herself with her pocket-handkerchief.
For the first time Norah was sorry to see her friend, and especially to see her at tea. Though Norah had been so often during the day thinking over what course she should take, and what words she should say, yet the sudden appearance of Sophy Puller seemed to take her by surprise.
"Quick, cut me a slice, for I must soon be off; plenty of butter you know; I thought that you promised me that this time I should taste the old lady's tartlets. Why, is anything the matter?" cried Sophy, who perceived a peculiar hesitation and confusion in the manner of Norah.
"You know, dear, that I went home yesterday and saw my sailor uncle—the uncle who has lost his arm."
"Ah! Yes, if I'd only time, I should like to hear all about him," said Sophy, "but I've come on a little bit of business, and I thought it was best to drop in at tea-time; I knew that my darling would always make me welcome!" Here followed a caress, which made poor Norah feel more embarrassed than ever.
"My uncle said—my uncle thought—he heard about your coming, and he told me—" Every word of her studied explanation seemed to have escaped from Norah's mind; she stammered, and turned very red; Sophy looked at her in surprise.
"What on earth do you mean?" she enquired.
Norah's hand was upon the loaf, and she unconsciously squeezed it so tightly as to leave the mark of the pressure upon it.
"My uncle thought that I should tell my mistress when I have a friend at meals," stammered forth Norah, wondering at her own courage when the sentence was uttered.
"That old Mrs. Martin may be sure to have hot muffins ready for her!" cried Sophy, bursting into a merry laugh. Her mirth disconcerted her friend as much as her anger might have done.
"Uncle Ned doesn't think it—quite right," said Norah, looking down, "that I should entertain any guest at my lady's expense, and without her knowledge."
"Stuff and nonsense!" exclaimed Sophy Puller. "I think that uncle of yours must have lost his head as well as his arm, or he would not be putting such rubbish into your silly little mind!" And catching up the knife, and taking the loaf from Norah, Sophy began to make up for lost time by helping herself in good earnest.
"But—" began Norah, timidly.
The milliner's girl cut her short.
"Now, don't be talking any more such stuff, Norah dear; you're not such a baby as to mind silly cant! I'll tell you what I've come here for to-day." Sophy went on talking as fast as a mouth full of bread and butter would let her.
"You're going to have a treat—such a treat! There's an entertainment to-night in the Town Hall; you must have seen the big bills about it stuck upon every wall—the
famous juggler is to perform, who helps a dozen people out of one bottle to a dozen different wines, and puts an extinguisher upon his wife, and makes her vanish into air, and who does a thousand other things more wonderful even than these! Now, you and I, my darling, are going to see him to-night."
"I cannot I cannot indeed," said Norah, who nevertheless greatly desired to go.
"But I've got a ticket for you!" cried Sophy, pulling it out of her pocket, as if the sight of the bit of blue pasteboard must set all scruples at rest. "Mr. Green, he's the manager you know, he's a friend of my father. 'Peter Puller,' says he, 'shall have as many tickets as he likes half-price.' Oh! you must come indeed, Norah, darling! The lads I told you of, and Bell and her brothers, are all to be of the party! 'Twill be the rarest fun in the world!" Sophy took hold of the teapot, and helped herself to the tea.
"I should like it of all things," sighed Norah, "but I am sure that I would not get my mistress's leave."
"Then you'll go without it, to be sure—just hand me the sugar, my dear—nothing can be more easily managed. I just tap at the door at ten minutes to nine; the door is left on the latch."
"But mistress bids me lock it, and put up the chain for the night for fear of robbers," said Norah.
"You can do all that when you come home; you'll be back by eleven, you know; as for robbers and all that rubbish, only old women who are timid as mice ever dream of such things. Now, you must not look so grave, dear Norah. I've set my heart on your going, indeed I'll take no denial, when
I've got the ticket and all. I'd never forgive you, never, if you disappointed me now."
It is needless to repeat all the arguments used by an unprincipled girl to persuade poor Norah to consent to do what her conscience condemned. Sophy never paused to consider that she was acting as Satan's servant, and doing the devil's work, in tempting her young simple friend from the straight narrow path of duty. Perhaps Sophy actually believed that she was showing kindness to Norah. Be that as it may, the milliner's girl did not leave the house till she had wrung from the weakness of her friend a half-consent to be ready to go with her that night.
Alas for poor human resolution! The first strong shaft of temptation had pierced it through and through.
Had the sailor's words, then, gone for nothing? Had they effected no change whatever? Yes, one important point had been gained. Norah could no longer do wrong with an easy conscience; her eyes had been opened to the danger and guilt of what she had deemed little sins. Norah knew that not one could be harboured and indulged, save at the peril of her soul. She felt that the religion which does not purify the life is not true religion at all.
Norah's mind was so restless and uneasy as she sat down to her work, that even the prospect of the amusement before her, gave as much pain as pleasure. She dared not think of her uncle, far less of those truths which she had heard from his lips.
When we yield to one temptation we have less power to resist another. Waters entering through the narrowest breach soon make for themselves a wider way. Norah
sought relief from uneasy reflection in the very thing which she had so lately given up as wrong.
"I can't go on with this tiresome darning," exclaimed the young servant, flinging a bundle of stockings aside. "I must just have a glance at that book; I must just see if that wretched woman was hanged for murder after all."
So, neglecting her duty, misusing her time, trying to silence her conscience, Norah plunged into the midst of a novel but too well suited to inflame her imagination and corrupt her mind. She was so deep in the interest of the story, that she started with impatient annoyance at the sound of the bell which summoned her up to the drawing-room, to read to her mistress as usual.
CHAPTER VI.
HELP IN NEED.
WELL was it for Norah Peele that a quiet time for thinking was thus forced upon her, unwilling as she felt at the moment to lay down her tempting novel, and obey her mistress's summons.
When Norah entered the peaceful room, where the soft light of the shaded lamp fell on Mrs. Martin's placid voice and silvery hair, as she sat with her hands clasped, and a look of much patience in her almost sightless eyes, Norah felt as if she had quitted a glaring theatre, and come into a house of
prayer. There was before her one who had long worn the breastplate of righteousness, and fought the good fight of faith, and who would soon receive the victor's crown from Him whom she loved and obeyed.
Norah took up the book which she was accustomed to read, but so pre-occupied was her mind with its own perplexing thoughts, that she began at the first chapter at which she chanced to open the volume, without paying attention to a marker left in the proper place.
"Surely we have heard that before," said Mrs. Martin.
Norah had not attended to one word of what she had been reading.
The girl was ashamed of her mistake, and at once set it right, but it was soon followed by another. Norah turned over two pages at once and read on, quite unconscious that her blunder rendered a sentence absolute nonsense.
Again Mrs. Martin recalled her to herself in a patient, gentle way; but Norah still read in so dull and lifeless a manner, that it could be no pleasure to hear her.
"You may shut the book, Norah," said the lady; "perhaps yesterday's long walk has tired you; I will only have my evening chapter from the Bible; there is no reading like that."
Norah took up the blessed volume, and now her attention wandered no more. The chapter read was the 22d of St Luke. Conscious of her own backsliding, of the weakness which she had shown, of the evil intention which she had harboured after all her good resolutions, every verse which she read from the Bible seemed to Norah to convey a reproach. At last, when she came to Peter's assurance that
he would fellow his Master to prison and to death, and the mournful warning which followed, Norah's voice failed her, and she paused for a minute to recover her own selfcommand.
"I am always thankful," said Mrs. Martin, "that St Peter's fall has been recorded in Scripture: it puts us on our guard against our own weakness; it shows us that even faith and love like his were not enough to guard him from sin in the hour of temptation."
"Then what can guard?" faltered Norah.
"The grace of God's Holy Spirit, which we must seek for by prayer. It was that grace which made Peter, who had thrice denied his Lord, afterwards boldly confess Him in the presence of Caiaphas himself! It was that grace that made Peter, who had been terrified at the words of a woman, afterwards nobly endure the terrible death of the cross! Without God's grace we can do nothing, with it we can do all things; His strength is made perfect in our weakness. Our daily prayer should be, 'Lord, give me thy Holy Spirit!' remembering the gracious promise, 'Ask, and it shall be given you.'" *
* Matt. vii. 7.
Norah read on to the end of the chapter in a low soft tone, and with a spirit humbled and subdued. Once again her voice failed her; it was at the words, the Lord turned and looked upon Peter! She thought what that look of love and pity must have been, how it must have thrilled to the heart of the backsliding disciple! And did not He who had watched the apostle, still mark the wanderings of His feeblest lamb; was He not still ready thus to guide by his eye the erring
one who longed once more to return to the straight path of duty?
As soon as Norah's invalid mistress had retired to her early rest, Norah went to her own little room, not to prepare, as she had intended, to go out at night with her worthless companion, leaving the house exposed to robbers, and an aged lady in danger, if taken with sudden illness, of finding herself deserted, but to fall on her knees and ask forgiveness for the sinful purpose of her heart.
Norah could not have put her prayer into words, but her soul's pleading was something like this—
"Oh, Lord! Help me! Oh, Lord forgive me! I am a poor, foolish, sinful girl! The evil I would not, I do, and I leave my duties undone! Oh, give me Thy Holy Spirit; give me the breastplate of righteousness, strong and firm against every temptation, that I may know Thy will, and do Thy will, and follow my Saviour all my life, and be happy with Him for ever!"
A few minutes before the church-clock struck nine, a shadow fell on the pavement in front of Mrs. Martin's dwelling, and there was the sound of a low rap, as of a stealthy hand on the panel of the door, followed by an eager whisper, "Quick, Norah, quick, we are late."
The door unclosed but a few inches, the chain prevented its opening wider. Young Norah stood behind it, the glare of the street lamp showed her pale, agitated face.
"Oh, Sophy, don't be angry; I may not—must not come. I have written my reasons on the paper in which this book is
wrapped up, take it, and oh, forgive me."
Norah drew back as if afraid of trusting herself to say more.
Sophy, disappointed and angry, had snatched the novel out of Norah's hand.
"I'll never believe, nor trust, nor speak to you again," she exclaimed, turning away with a burst of petty resentment.
Perhaps Sophy hoped to hear Norah's voice entreating her to return; she only heard the rattle of the chain, and the sound of the closing door. Something firmer than panel, and stronger than iron or steel, had been now raised to be a barrier between Norah Peele and her false friend.
CHAPTER VII.
ANOTHER TRIUMPH.
How different is the importance given on earth and in Heaven to the same events! The famous speech, the brilliant entertainment, the political crisis, which fill columns of "The Times," and are the talk of eager thousands from one end of Britain to another, may seem as much beneath the notice of angels as bubbles floating on a stream; while the bright inhabitants of Heaven may hover over some humble mansion, to watch the struggle between right and wrong in one as lowly as the little servant-maid Norah.
