Looking round me, in a sort of dream, I remembered
suddenly what Wylder had told me of old Lorne Brandon,
to whose portrait this inexplicable phantom bore so
powerful a resemblance. He was suspected of having
murdered his own son, at the edge of a tarn in the
park. This tarn maybe—and with the
thought the water looked blacker—and a deeper
and colder shadow gathered over the ominous hollow
in which I stood, and the rustling in the withered
leaves sounded angrily.
I got up as quickly as might be to the higher grounds,
and waited there for awhile, and watched for the emergence
of the old man. But it did not appear; and shade
after shade was spreading solemnly over the landscape,
and having a good way to walk, I began to stride briskly
along the slopes and hollows, in the twilight, now
and then looking into vacancy, over my shoulder.
The little adventure, and the deepening shades, helped
to sadden my homeward walk; and when at last the dusky
outline of the Hall rose before me, it wore a sort
of weird and haunted aspect.
CAPTAIN LAKE TAKES AN EVENING STROLL ABOUT GYLINGDEN.
Again I had serious thoughts of removing my person
and effects to the Brandon Arms. I could not
quite believe I had seen a ghost; but neither was
I quite satisfied that the thing was altogether canny.
The apparition, whatever it was, seemed to persecute
me with a mysterious obstinacy; at all events, I was
falling into a habit of seeing it; and I felt a natural
desire to escape from the house which was plagued with
its presence.
At the same time I had an odd sort of reluctance to
mention the subject to my entertainers. The thing
itself was a ghostly slur upon the house, and, to
run away, a reproach to my manhood; and besides, writing
now at a distance, and in the spirit of history, I
suspect the interest which beauty always excites had
a great deal to do with my resolve to hold my ground;
and, I dare say, notwithstanding my other reasons,
had the ladies at the Hall been all either old or
ugly, I would have made good my retreat to the village
hotel.
As it was, however, I was resolved to maintain my
position. But that evening was streaked with
a tinge of horror, and I more silent and distrait
than usual.
The absence of an accustomed face, even though the
owner be nothing very remarkable, is always felt;
and Wylder was missed, though, sooth to say, not very
much regretted. For the first time we were really
a small party. Miss Lake was not there.
The gallant captain, her brother, was also absent.
The vicar, and his good little wife, were at Naunton
that evening to hear a missionary recount his adventures
and experiences in Japan, and none of the neighbours
had been called in to fill the empty chairs.
Dorcas Brandon did not contribute much to the talk;
neither, in truth, did I. Old Lady Chelford occasionally
dozed and nodded sternly after tea, waking up and
eyeing people grimly, as though enquiring whether anyone
presumed to suspect her ladyship of having had a nap.
