A moment of madness, and other stories (vol. 2 of 3)Marryat, Florence
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A moment of madness, and other stories (vol. 2 of 3)
Marryat, Florence
English fiction -- 19th century; Short stories, English
What if there were more in all this than I had ever permitted myself to
imagine? What if the assertions of my man-servant, the unaffected terror
of my wife and child, the fears of my nurse, the evident shrinking of the
old woman who had charge of the house, the opposition from the servants
of the neighbouring town, combined with what I had heard myself, were
not simple chimeras of the brain—fancies engendered by superstition or
timidity or ignorance; but indications of a power beyond our control,
the beginning and the end of which may alike remain unknown until all
things are revealed? I had, with the majority of educated men, manfully
resisted all temptation to believe in the possibility of spirits, of
whatever grade, making themselves either seen or heard by mortal senses.
I use the word ‘manfully,’ although I now believe it to be the height of
manliness to refuse to discredit that which we cannot disprove, and to
have sufficient humility to accept the belief that there are more things
in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy. But at that
juncture I should have considered such a concession both childish and
cowardly. Yet, there was sufficient doubt in my mind, notwithstanding the
glorious June sun, respecting my adventure of the night before, that I
resolved, whatever happened, that I would satisfy myself as to the value
of the fears of those about me.
I could not keep my wife and children in a house where they might be
liable at any moment to be frightened out of their seven senses, from
whatever cause, without ascertaining the reason of it. Some reason there
must be, either natural or otherwise; and I determined, if possible,
to learn it that very night. I would not tell Dawson or anyone of my
intention; but I would keep watch and ward in the old parlour on the
ground floor, so as to be ready to rush out at a moment’s notice, and
seize any intruder who might attempt to disturb us. I still believed—I
could not but believe—that the footsteps which so many of us had heard
were due to some trickster, who wished to play upon our nerves in that
lonely old house. I had heard of such things being done, purposely to
keep visitors away; and I determined, whosoever it might be, whether our
own servants or strangers, that they must take their chance of being shot
down like any other robber.
According to my resolution, I said nothing to Janie, but tried to render
the evening as cheerful and merry a one as possible.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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