For a second or two, petrified with horror, we stood staring at it.
The evil smile flickered for a moment, baring the white teeth and
lighting the depths of those wolfish eyes; then, with a fiendish
laugh, vanished in the darkness.
He had, then, told the truth when he promised to haunt me.
Beyond the shock of mortal terror, I was but little amazed.
It seemed but natural that he should come as he had threatened.
Only I was filled with awful expectation of his vengeance, and stood
aghast at the consequences of my rashness. By instinct I turned to
my mother for protection.
But what ailed her? She had fallen back in her chair and was still
staring with parted lips at the dark pane that a minute ago had
framed the horrid countenance. When at last she spoke, her words
were wild and meaningless, with a dreadful mockery of laughter that
sent a swift pang of apprehension to my heart.
"Mother, it is gone. What is the matter?"
Again a few meaningless syllables and that awful laugh.
And so throughout that second awful night did she mutter and laugh,
whilst I, helpless and terror-stricken, strove to soothe her and
recall her to speech and sense. The slow hours dragged by, and still
I knelt before her waiting for the light. The slow clock sounded the
hours, and still she gave no sign of understanding. The mice crept
out of their accustomed holes and jumped back startled at her laugh.
The fire died low and the candles died out; the wind moaned outside,
the tamarisk branches swished against the pane; the hush of night,
with its intervals of mysterious sound, held the house; but all the
time she never ceased to gaze upon the window, and every now and
then to mutter words that were no echo of her mind or voice.
Daylight, with its premonitory chill, crept upon us at last, but oh,
how slowly! Daylight looked in and found us as that cruel sight had
left us, helpless and alone.
But with daylight came some courage. Had there been neighbours near
Lantrig I should have run to summon them before, but Polkimbra was
the nearest habitation, and Polkimbra was almost two miles off,
across a road possessed by horrors and perhaps tenanted by that
devilish face. And how could I leave my mother alone? But now that
day had come I would run to Lizard Town and see Uncle Loveday.
I slipped on my boots, unbolted the door, cast a last look at my
mother still sitting helpless and vacant of soul, and rushed from the
house. The sound of her laughter rang in my ears as the door closed
behind me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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