"You think I am conceited in making such a remark, but in that you are
mistaken. It is simply that I am better acquainted with ignorance than
you are. Most of these early English provincialisms, if I may use the
term for want of a better, can only be guessed at. There are not
sufficient local manuscripts of similar date for comparison to be of
much service. If a word cannot be traced either to Anglo-Saxon,
Moeso-Gothic, or Scandinavian, you may safely translate it as you please
and defy criticism. But let us come in, it is getting chilly."
We entered the house together, passing on to his study. The home was
typical of the man. From outside it might easily have been mistaken for
a small farm-house. It had the appearance of age, though built by its
present owner. It was constructed after the model of the oldest
existing style of a Surrey cottage. The walls were supported by and
interlaced with massive oak beams, and the roof was entirely composed of
thin slabs of rough ironstone which had served a similar purpose for
many centuries, having been collected from various dilapidated and
condemned buildings. The greatest care had been taken in removing these
slabs not to destroy the moss and lichen attached to them, and a few
years after the house was finished, an antiquarian might easily have
been deceived, so perfectly had every detail, external and internal,
been studied.
This humble-looking abode cost probably as much as many of the
surrounding mansions, and was unquestionably far more comfortable.
I thought that I was well acquainted with the interior. How far this
idea was correct will shortly be seen.
We looked over the manuscript together for some time, and I was
surprised to find that many words I had considered provincial were known
to my friend; and it was not often that he had to own himself beaten.
The matter, however, was most uninteresting, being a homily on the Roman
faith.
Presently my companion leaned back in his chair, and seemed to be
looking fixedly on some spot on the wall opposite him. I followed the
direction of his eyes, but could see nothing likely to attract his
attention. I spoke, but he did not answer. The light was rather dim,
and it was not possible to see his face distinctly, as the shade from
the lamp screened it, but I felt certain that something was wrong. I
placed my hand upon his arm, but he took no notice, and this now
thoroughly alarmed me.
My first inclination was to ring the bell; my second to move the shade
from the lamp so as to be quite sure that I was not mistaken. Lifting
the screen, I let the light fall brightly on Sydney’s face, and turned
to look more closely. For a moment his eyes still maintained their
fixed and vacant expression, then turned slowly toward the light. He
heaved a deep sigh, and then looked at me with a slightly dazed
expression.
"I am afraid you are not well," I said.
"It is nothing," he replied. "For the moment I felt faint, but the
sensation has passed."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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