The Bell in the Fog and Other StoriesAtherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn
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The Bell in the Fog and Other Stories
Atherton, Gertrude Franklin Horn
Gothic fiction; Short stories; United States -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
However, Weigall's affection for his friend was too deep to companion
with tranquillity in the present state of doubt, and, instead of going
to bed early with the other men, he determined to walk until ready for
sleep. He went down to the river and followed the path through the
woods. There was no moon, but the stars sprinkled their cold light upon
the pretty belt of water flowing placidly past wood and ruin, between
green masses of overhanging rocks or sloping banks tangled with tree and
shrub, leaping occasionally over stones with the harsh notes of an angry
scold, to recover its equanimity the moment the way was clear again.
It was very dark in the depths where Weigall trod. He smiled as he
recalled a remark of Gifford's: "An English wood is like a good many
other things in life--very promising at a distance, but a hollow mockery
when you get within. You see daylight on both sides, and the sun
freckles the very bracken. Our woods need the night to make them seem
what they ought to be--what they once were, before our ancestors'
descendants demanded so much more money, in these so much more various
days."
Weigall strolled along, smoking, and thinking of his friend, his
pranks--many of which had done more credit to his imagination than
this--and recalling conversations that had lasted the night through.
Just before the end of the London season they had walked the streets one
hot night after a party, discussing the various theories of the soul's
destiny. That afternoon they had met at the coffin of a college friend
whose mind had been a blank for the past three years. Some months
previously they had called at the asylum to see him. His expression had
been senile, his face imprinted with the record of debauchery. In death
the face was placid, intelligent, without ignoble lineation--the face of
the man they had known at college. Weigall and Gifford had had no time
to comment there, and the afternoon and evening were full; but, coming
forth from the house of festivity together, they had reverted almost at
once to the topic.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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