At once I followed him: I might be following a shadow, but I never
doubted I was following something. He went out of the library into the
hall, and across to the foot of the great staircase, then up the stairs
to the first floor, where lay the chief rooms. Past these rooms, I
following close, he continued his way, through a wide corridor, to the
foot of a narrower stair leading to the second floor. Up that he went
also, and when I reached the top, strange as it may seem, I found myself
in a region almost unknown to me. I never had brother or sister to
incite to such romps as make children familiar with nook and cranny; I
was a mere child when my guardian took me away; and I had never seen the
house again until, about a month before, I returned to take possession.
Through passage after passage we came to a door at the bottom of a
winding wooden stair, which we ascended. Every step creaked under my
foot, but I heard no sound from that of my guide. Somewhere in the
middle of the stair I lost sight of him, and from the top of it the
shadowy shape was nowhere visible. I could not even imagine I saw him.
The place was full of shadows, but he was not one of them.
I was in the main garret, with huge beams and rafters over my head,
great spaces around me, a door here and there in sight, and long vistas
whose gloom was thinned by a few lurking cobwebbed windows and small
dusky skylights. I gazed with a strange mingling of awe and pleasure:
the wide expanse of garret was my own, and unexplored!
In the middle of it stood an unpainted inclosure of rough planks, the
door of which was ajar. Thinking Mr. Raven might be there, I pushed the
door, and entered.
The small chamber was full of light, but such as dwells in places
deserted: it had a dull, disconsolate look, as if it found itself of no
use, and regretted having come. A few rather dim sunrays, marking their
track through the cloud of motes that had just been stirred up,
fell upon a tall mirror with a dusty face, old-fashioned and rather
narrow--in appearance an ordinary glass. It had an ebony frame, on the
top of which stood a black eagle, with outstretched wings, in his beak a
golden chain, from whose end hung a black ball.
I had been looking at rather than into the mirror, when suddenly I
became aware that it reflected neither the chamber nor my own person. I
have an impression of having seen the wall melt away, but what followed
is enough to account for any uncertainty:--could I have mistaken for a
mirror the glass that protected a wonderful picture?
I saw before me a wild country, broken and heathy. Desolate hills of
no great height, but somehow of strange appearance, occupied the middle
distance; along the horizon stretched the tops of a far-off mountain
range; nearest me lay a tract of moorland, flat and melancholy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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