They went down to the house together, arm in arm, and I remained alone
in the Lady’s Walk. My head was turning round. Was it the most
superstitious folly? What was it? Common sense, which will come in at
inconvenient moments and drive one into a corner, stalked forth and
looked me, with cynical eyes, in the face. Well! were they mad, or
idiots, or what was it? I stood still and listened till my sense of the
incongruous and absurd was too much for me. The footsteps which I had
once heard so clearly going along this way, and which had in my hearing
turned and gone back, were no longer audible. The wind in the branches,
the stir of a bird on the bough, the blackbirds singing clear and high
in the shrubberies, even, as I have said, the lap of the water on the
shore, were audible, but nothing else. I walked along to the end and
back again. There was not a sound. Well, I said to myself, I suppose the
sound that caused it must be stilled for some reason or other; and I
laughed. But next moment I felt the skin creep upon me, a sort of cold
shiver rising under the roots of my hair. I was too much, I suppose,
under the influence of the family to regard it in a robust and sensible
way. Certain it is, that however the science of acoustics might account
for it, as a matter of fact those mysterious sounds had ceased and
could be heard no more.
The next hour was to me so confused and incoherent that I could make
nothing of it. I was left alone. Only a servant came to tell me that the
carriage would be at the door at a certain time. Both Charlotte and her
father had disappeared, and whether they were going with me, or meant to
let me depart without further notice, I could not tell. When the
carriage drove to the door, however, they both appeared. Mr. Campbell
was carefully wrapped up, though the evening was not cold. He looked
more feeble than I had supposed him to be, and older; there was a quiver
and twitching about his face, and he tottered as he got with difficulty
into the carriage. We drove to the station with scarcely a word. “Have
you got the bags right, Chatty? Have you a rug for the journey? Are you
sure you brought money enough?”
“Yes, father, yes,” Charlotte said. He was evidently altogether
dependent upon her. She directed me with a look to give him my arm when
we arrived at the railway station, and ran to and fro herself, taking
the tickets and doing all that was needful.
“Let me do it,” I said; “I cannot bear to see you doing such work.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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