When the World Shook: Being an Account of the Great Adventure of Bastin, Bickley and ArbuthnotHaggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Science
When the World Shook: Being an Account of the Great Adventure of Bastin, Bickley and Arbuthnot
Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider)
Adventure stories; Science fiction
“Hypnotic business! Wonder if it will work,” whispered Bickley. Then he
lifted the syringe and looked inquiringly at the man, who shook his
head, and went on with his mesmeric passes.
I crept round him and took my stand by the sleeper’s head, that I might
watch her face, which was well worth watching, while Bickley, with his
medicine at hand, remained near her feet, I think engaged in
disinfecting the syringe in some spirit or acid. I believe he was about
to make an attempt to use it when suddenly, as though beneath the
influence of the hypnotic passes, a change appeared on the Glittering
Lady’s face. Hitherto, beautiful as it was, it had been a dead face
though one of a person who had suddenly been cut off while in full
health and vigour a few hours, or at the most a day or so before. Now
it began to live again; it was as though the spirit were returning from
afar, and not without toil and tribulation.
Expression after expression flitted across the features; indeed these
seemed to change so much from moment to moment that they might have
belonged to several different individuals, though each was beautiful.
The fact of these remarkable changes with the suggestion of multiform
personalities which they conveyed impressed both Bickley and myself
very much indeed. Then the breast heaved tumultuously; it even appeared
to struggle. Next the eyes opened. They were full of wonder, even of
fear, but oh! what marvelous eyes. I do not know how to describe them,
I cannot even state their exact colour, except that it was dark,
something like the blue of sapphires of the deepest tint, and yet not
black; large, too, and soft as a deer’s. They shut again as though the
light hurt them, then once more opened and wandered about, apparently
without seeing.
At length they found my face, for I was still bending over her, and,
resting there, appeared to take it in by degrees. More, it seemed to
touch and stir some human spring in the still-sleeping heart. At least
the fear passed from her features and was replaced by a faint smile,
such as a patient sometimes gives to one known and well loved, as the
effects of chloroform pass away. For a while she looked at me with an
earnest, searching gaze, then suddenly, for the first time moving her
arms, lifted them and threw them round my neck.
The old man stared, bending his imperial brows into a little frown, but
did nothing. Bickley stared also through his glasses and sniffed as
though in disapproval, while I remained quite still, fighting with a
wild impulse to kiss her on the lips as one would an awakening and
beloved child. I doubt if I could have done so, however, for really I
was immovable; my heart seemed to stop and all my muscles to be
paralysed.
I do not know for how long this endured, but I do know how it ended.
Presently in the intense silence I heard Bastin’s heavy voice and
looking round, saw his big head projecting into the sepulchre.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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