The Open Door, and the Portrait.: Stories of the Seen and the Unseen.Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Science
The Open Door, and the Portrait.: Stories of the Seen and the Unseen.
Oliphant, Mrs. (Margaret)
Manners and customs -- Fiction
He gave me a very curt “good-night,” and turned back to his papers,--the
letters with the black edge, either by my imagination or in reality,
always keeping uppermost. I went to my own room for my lamp, and then
alone proceeded to the silent shrine in which the portrait hung. I at
least would look at her to-night. I don’t know whether I asked myself,
in so many words, if it were she who--or if it was any one--I knew
nothing; but my heart was drawn with a softness--born, perhaps, of the
great weakness in which I was left after that visitation--to her, to look
at her, to see, perhaps, if there was any sympathy, any approval in her
face. I set down my lamp on the table where her little work-basket still
was; the light threw a gleam upward upon her,--she seemed more than ever
to be stepping into the room, coming down towards me, coming back to her
life. Ah, no! her life was lost and vanished: all mine stood between her
and the days she knew. She looked at me with eyes that did not change.
The anxiety I had seen at first seemed now a wistful, subdued question;
but that difference was not in her look but in mine.
* * * * *
I need not linger on the intervening time. The doctor who attended us
usually, came in next day “by accident,” and we had a long conversation.
On the following day a very impressive yet genial gentleman from town
lunched with us,--a friend of my father’s, Dr. Something; but the
introduction was hurried, and I did not catch his name. He, too, had a
long talk with me afterwards, my father being called away to speak to
some one on business. Dr.---- drew me out on the subject of the dwellings
of the poor. He said he heard I took great interest in this question,
which had come so much to the front at the present moment. He was
interested in it too, and wanted to know the view I took. I explained at
considerable length that my view did not concern the general subject, on
which I had scarcely thought, so much as the individual mode of
management of my father’s estate. He was a most patient and intelligent
listener, agreeing with me on some points, differing in others; and his
visit was very pleasant. I had no idea until after of its special object;
though a certain puzzled look and slight shake of the head when my father
returned, might have thrown some light upon it. The report of the medical
experts in my case must, however, have been quite satisfactory, for I
heard nothing more of them. It was, I think, a fortnight later when the
next and last of these strange experiences came.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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