The next morning he begged a holiday for me and Charley, of whose
family he knew something, although he was not acquainted with them. I
was a little disappointed at Charley’s being included in the request,
not in the least from jealousy, but because I had set my heart on
taking Clara to the cave in the ice, which I knew Charley would not
like. But I thought we could easily arrange to leave him somewhere near
until we returned. I spoke to Mr Coningham about it, who entered into
my small scheme with the greatest kindness. Charley confided to me
afterwards that he did not take to him--he was too like an ape, he
said. But the impression of his ugliness had with me quite worn off;
and for his part, if I had been a favourite nephew, he could not have
been more complaisant and hearty.
I felt very stiff when we set out, and altogether not quite myself; but
the discomfort wore off as we went. Charley had Mr Coningham’s horse,
and I walked by the side of Clara’s, eager after any occasion, if but a
pretence, of being useful to her. She was quite familiar with me, but
seemed shy of Charley. He looked much more of a man than I; for not
only, as I have said, had he grown much during his illness, but there
was an air of troubled thoughtfulness about him which made him look
considerably older than he really was; while his delicate complexion
and large blue eyes had a kind of mystery about them that must have
been very attractive.
When we reached the village, I told Charley that we wanted to go on
foot to the cave, and hoped he would not mind waiting our return. But
he refused to be left, declaring he should not mind going in the least;
that he was quite well now, and ashamed of his behaviour on the former
occasion; that, in fact, it must have been his approaching illness that
caused it. I could not insist, and we set out. The footpath led us
through fields of corn, with a bright sun overhead, and a sweet wind
blowing. It was a glorious day of golden corn, gentle wind, and blue
sky--with great masses of white snow, whiter than any cloud, held up in
it.
We descended the steep bank; we crossed the wooden bridge over the
little river; we crunched under our feet the hail-like crystals lying
rough on the surface of the glacier; we reached the cave, and entered
its blue abyss. I went first into the delicious, yet dangerous-looking
blue. The cave had several sharp angles in it. When I reached the
furthest corner I turned to look behind me. I was alone. I walked back
and peeped round the last corner. Between that and the one beyond it
stood Clara and Charley--staring at each other with faces of ghastly
horror.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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