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Uncle Cornelius His Story
by
“‘What are you looking at?’ asked James Hetheridge.
“‘I was looking after that old lady,’ I answered, ‘but I can’t see her.’
“‘What old lady?’ said Hetheridge, with just a touch of impatience.
“‘You must have seen her,’ I returned. ‘You were not more than three yards behind her.’
“‘Where is she then?’
“‘She must have gone down one of the areas, I think. But she looked a lady, though an old-fashioned one.’
“‘Have you been dining?’ asked James, in a tone of doubtful inquiry.
“‘No,’ I replied, not suspecting the insinuation; ‘I have only just come from the Museum.’
“‘Then I advise you to call on your medical man before you go home.’
“‘Medical man!’ I returned; ‘I have no medical man. What do you mean? I never was better in my life.’
“‘I mean that there was no old lady. It was an illusion, and that indicates something wrong. Besides, you did not know me when I spoke to you.’
“‘That is nothing,” I returned. ‘I had just taken off my spectacles, and without them I shouldn’t know my own father.’
“‘How was it you saw the old lady, then?’
“The affair was growing serious under my friend’s cross-questioning. I did not at all like the idea of his supposing me subject to hallucinations. So I answered, with a laugh, ‘Ah! to be sure, that explains it. I am so blind without my spectacles, that I shouldn’t know an old lady from a big dog.’
“‘There was no big dog,’ said Hetheridge, shaking his head, as the fact for the first time dawned upon me that, although I had seen the old lady clearly enough to make a sketch of her, even to the features of her care-worn, eager old face, I had not been able to recognise the well-known countenance of James Hetheridge.
“‘That’s what comes of reading till the optic nerve is weakened,” he went on. ‘You will cause yourself serious injury if you do not pull up in time. I’ll tell you what; I’m going home next week–will you go with me?’
“‘You are very kind,’ I answered, not altogether rejecting the proposal, for I felt that a little change to the country would be pleasant, and I was quite my own master. For I had unfortunately means equal to my wants, and had no occasion to follow any profession–not a very desirable thing for a young man, I can tell you, Master Harry. I need not keep you over the commonplaces of pressing and yielding. It is enough to say that he pressed and that I yielded. The day was fixed for our departure together; but something or other, I forget what, occurred, to make him advance the date, and it was resolved that I should follow later in the month.
“It was a drizzly afternoon in the beginning of the last week of October when I left the town of Bradford in a post-chaise to drive to Lewton Grange, the property of my friend’s father. I had hardly left the town, and the twilight had only begun to deepen, when, glancing from one of the windows of the chaise, I fancied I saw, between me and the hedge, the dim figure of a horse keeping pace with us. I thought, in the first interval of unreason, that it was a shadow from my own horse, but reminded myself the next moment that there could be no shadow where there was no light. When I looked again, I was at the first glance convinced that my eyes had deceived me. At the second, I believed once more that a shadowy something, with the movements of a horse in harness, was keeping pace with us. I turned away again with some discomfort, and not till we had reached an open moorland road, whence a little watery light was visible on the horizon, could I summon up courage enough to look out once more. Certainly then there was nothing to be seen, and I persuaded myself that it had been all a fancy, and lighted a cigar. With my feet on the cushions before me, I had soon lifted myself on the clouds of tobacco far above all the terrors of the night, and believed them banished for ever. But, my cigar coming to an end just as we turned into the avenue that led up to the Grange, I found myself once more glancing nervously out of the window. The moment the trees were about me, there was, if not a shadowy horse out there by the side of the chaise, yet certainly more than half that conviction in here in my consciousness. When I saw my friend, however, standing on the doorstep, dark against the glow of the hall fire, I forgot all about it; and I need not add that I did not make it a subject of conversation when I entered, for I was well aware that it was essential to a man’s reputation that his senses should be accurate, though his heart might without prejudice swarm with shadows, and his judgment be a very stable of hobbies.