Children -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Ghost stories; Governesses -- Fiction; Psychological fiction
when they loomed through the dusk, by the grandeur of their actual
battlements; yet it was not at such an elevation that the figure I had
so often invoked seemed most in place.
It produced in me, this figure, in the clear twilight, I remember, two
distinct gasps of emotion, which were, sharply, the shock of my first
and that of my second surprise. My second was a violent perception of
the mistake of my first: the man who met my eyes was not the person I
had precipitately supposed. There came to me thus a bewilderment of
vision of which, after these years, there is no living view that I can
hope to give. An unknown man in a lonely place is a permitted object of
fear to a young woman privately bred; and the figure that faced me
was—a few more seconds assured me—as little anyone else I knew as it
was the image that had been in my mind. I had not seen it in Harley
Street—I had not seen it anywhere. The place, moreover, in the
strangest way in the world, had, on the instant, and by the very fact
of its appearance, become a solitude. To me at least, making my
statement here with a deliberation with which I have never made it, the
whole feeling of the moment returns. It was as if, while I took in—what
I did take in—all the rest of the scene had been stricken with death. I
can hear again, as I write, the intense hush in which the sounds of
evening dropped. The rooks stopped cawing in the golden sky, and the
friendly hour lost, for the minute, all its voice. But there was no
other change in nature, unless indeed it were a change that I saw with
a stranger sharpness. The gold was still in the sky, the clearness in
the air, and the man who looked at me over the battlements was as
definite as a picture in a frame. That’s how I thought, with
extraordinary quickness, of each person that he might have been and
that he was not. We were confronted across our distance quite long
enough for me to ask myself with intensity who then he was and to feel,
as an effect of my inability to say, a wonder that in a few instants
more became intense.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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