Now, he said, Nisbet, I want you to tell me exactly what you see in that picture. Describe it, if you dont mind, rather minutely. Ill tell you why afterwards.
Well, said Nisbet, I have here a view of a country-house English, I presume by moonlight.
Moonlight? Youre sure of that?
Certainly. The moon appears to be on the wane, if you wish for details, and there are clouds in the sky.
All right. Go on. Ill swear, added Williams in an aside, there was no moon when I saw it first.
Well, theres not much more to be said, Nisbet continued. The house has one two three rows of windows, five in each row, except at the bottom, where theres a porch instead of the middle one, and
But what about figures? said Williams, with marked interest.
There arent any, said Nisbet; but
What! No figure on the grass in front?
Not a thing.
Youll swear to that?
Certainly I will. But theres just one other thing.
What?
Why, one of the windows on the ground-floor left of the door is open.
Is it really so? My goodness! he must have got in, said Williams, with great excitement; and he hurried to the back of the sofa on which Nisbet was sitting, and, catching the picture from him, verified the matter for himself.
It was quite true. There was no figure, and there was the open window. Williams, after a moment of speechless surprise, went to the writing-table and scribbled for a short time. Then he brought two papers to Nisbet, and asked him first to sign one it was his own description of the picture, which you have just heard and then to read the other, which was Williamss statement written the night before.
What can it all mean? said Nisbet.
Exactly, said Williams. Well, one thing I must do or three things, now I think of it. I must find out from Garwood this was his last nights visitor what he saw, and then I must get the thing photographed before it goes further, and then I must find out what the place is.
I can do the photographing myself, said Nisbet, and I will. But, you know, it looks very much as if we were assisting at the working out of a tragedy somewhere. The question is, Has it happened already, or is it going to come off? You must find out what the place is. Yes, he said, looking at the picture again, I expect youre right: he has got in. And if I dont mistake therell be the devil to pay in one of the rooms upstairs.
Ill tell you what, said Williams: Ill take the picture across to old Green (this was the senior Fellow of the College, who had been Bursar for many years). Its quite likely hell know it. We have property in Essex and Sussex, and he must have been over the two counties a lot in his time.
Quite likely he will, said Nisbet; but just let me take my photograph first. But look here, I rather think Green isnt up to-day. He wasnt in Hall last night, and I think I heard him say he was going down for the Sunday.
Thats true, too, said Williams; I know hes gone to Brighton. Well, if youll photograph it now, Ill go across to Garwood and get his statement, and you keep an eye on it while Im gone. Im beginning to think two guineas is not a very exorbitant price for it now.
In a short time he had returned, and brought Mr. Garwood with him. Garwoods statement was to the effect that the figure, when he had seen it, was clear of the edge of the picture, but had not got far across the lawn. He remembered a white mark on the back of its drapery, but could not have been sure it was a cross. A document to this effect was then drawn up and signed, and Nisbet proceeded to photograph the picture.
Now what do you mean to do? he said. Are you going to sit and watch it all day?
Well, no, I think not, said Williams. I rather imagine were meant to see the whole thing. You see, between the time I saw it last night and this morning there was time for lots of things to happen, but the creature only got into the house. It could easily have got through its business in the time and gone to its own place again; but the fact of the window being open, I think, must mean that its in there now. So I feel quite easy about leaving it. And, besides, I have a kind of idea that it wouldnt change much, if at all, in the daytime. We might go out for a walk this afternoon, and come in to tea, or whenever it gets dark. I shall leave it out on the table here, and sport the door. My skip can get in, but no one else.
The three agreed that this would be a good plan; and, further, that if they spent the afternoon together they would be less likely to talk about the business to other people; for any rumour of such a transaction as was going on would bring the whole of the Phasmatological Society[33] about their ears.
We may give them a respite until five oclock.
At or near that hour the three were entering Williamss staircase. They were at first slightly annoyed to see that the door of his rooms was unsported; but in a moment it was remembered that on Sunday the skips came for orders an hour or so earlier than on weekdays. However, a surprise was awaiting them. The first thing they saw was the picture leaning up against a pile of books on the table, as it had been left, and the next thing was Williamss skip, seated on a chair opposite, gazing at it with undisguised horror. How was this? Mr. Filcher (the name is not my own invention) was a servant of considerable standing, and set the standard of etiquette to all his own college and to several neighboring ones, and nothing could be more alien to his practice than to be found sitting on his masters chair, or appearing to take any particular notice of his masters furniture or pictures. Indeed, he seemed to feel this himself. He started violently when the three men were in the room, and got up with a marked effort. Then he said:
I ask your pardon, sir, for taking such a freedom as to set down.
Not at all, Robert, interposed Mr. Williams. I was meaning to ask you some time what you thought of that picture.
Well, sir, of course I dont set up my opinion again yours, but it aint the pictur I should ang where my little girl could see it, sir.
Wouldnt you, Robert? Why not?
No, sir. Why, the pore child, I recollect once she see a Door Bible, with pictures not alf what that is, and we ad to set up with her three or four nights afterwards, if youll believe me; and if she was to ketch a sight of this skelinton here, or whatever it is, carrying off the pore baby, she would be in a taking. You know ow it is with children; ow nervish they git with a little thing and all. But what I should say, it dont seem a right pictur to be laying about, sir, not where anyone thats liable to be startled could come on it. Should you be wanting anything this evening, sir? Thank you, sir.
With these words the excellent man went to continue the round of his masters and you may be sure the gentleman whom he left lost no time in gathering round the engraving. There was the house, as before under the waning moon and the drifting clouds The window that had been open was shot, and the figure was once more on the lawn: but not this time crawling cautiously on hands and knees. Now it was erect and stepping swiftly, with long strides, towards the front of the picture. The moon was behind it, and the black drapery hung down over its face so that only hints of that could be seen, and what was visible made the spectators profoundly thankful that they could see no more than a white dome-like forehead and a few straggling hairs. The head was bent down, and the arms were tightly clasped over an object which could be dimly seen and identified as a child, whether dead or living it was not possible to say. The legs of the appearance alone could be plainly discerned, and they were horribly thin.
From five to seven the three companions sat and watched the picture by turns. But it never changed. They agreed at last that it would be safe to leave it, and that they would return after Hall and await further developments.
When they assembled again, at the earliest possible moment, the engraving was there, but the figure was gone, and the house was quiet under the moonbeams. There was nothing for it but to spend the evening over gazetteers and guide-books. Williams was the lucky one at last, and perhaps he deserved it. At 11.80 p.m. he read from Murrays Guide to Essex the following lines:
16 1/2 miles, Anningley. The church has been an interesting building of Norman date, but was extensively classicized in the last century. It contains the tomb of the family of Francis, whose mansion, Anningley Hall, a solid Queen Anne house, stands immediately beyond the churchyard in a park of about 80 acres. The family is now extinct, the last heir having disappeared mysteriously in infancy in the year 1802. The father, Mr. Arthur Francis, was locally known as a talented amateur engraver in mezzotint. After his sons disappearance he lived in complete retirement at the Hall, and was found dead in his studio on the third anniversary of the disaster, having just completed an engraving of the house, impressions of which are of considerable rarity.
This looked like business, and, indeed, Mr. Green on his return at once identified the house as Anningley Hall.
Is there any kind of explanation of the figure. Green? was the question which Williams naturally asked.
I dont know, Im sure, Williams. What used to be said in the place when I first knew it, which was before I came up here, was just this: old Francis was always very much down on these poaching fellows, and whenever he got a chance he used to get a man whom he suspected of it turned off the estate, and by degrees he got rid of them all but one. Squires could do a lot of things then that they darent think of now. Well, this man that was left was what you find pretty often in that country the last remains of a very old family. I believe they were Lords of the Manor at one time. I recollect just the same thing in my own parish.
What, like the man in Tess o the Durbervilles?[34] Williams put in.
Yes, I dare say; its not a book I could ever read myself. But this fellow could show a row of tombs in the church there that belonged to his ancestors, and all that went to sour him a bit; but Francis, they said, could never get at him he always kept just on the right side of the law until one night the keepers found him at it in a wood right at the end of the estate. I could show you the place now; it marches with some land that used to belong to an uncle of mine. And you can imagine there was a row; and this man Gawdy (that was the name, to be sure Gawdy; I thought I should get it Gawdy), he was unlucky enough, poor chap! to shoot a keeper. Well, that was what Francis wanted, and grand juries you know what they would have been then and poor Gawdy was strung up in double-quick time; and Ive been shown the place he was buried in, on the north side of the church you know the way in that part of the world: anyone thats been hanged or made away with themselves, they bury them that side. And the idea that there was some friend of Gawdys not a relation, because he had none, poor devil! he was the last of his line: kind of spes ultima gentis[35] must have planned to get hold of Franciss boy and put an end to his line, too. I dont know its rather an out-of-the-way thing for an Essex poacher to think of but, you know, I should say now it looks more as if old Gawdy had managed the job himself. Booh! I hate to think of it! have some whisky, Williams!
The facts were communicated by Williams to Dennistoun, and by him to a mixed company, of which I was one, and the Sadducean Professor of Ophiology[36] another. I am sorry to say that the latter, when asked what he thought of it, only remarked: Oh, those Bridgeford people will say anything a sentiment which met with the reception it deserved I have only to add that the picture is now in the Ashleian Museum; that it has been treated with a view to discovering whether sympathetic ink has been used in it, but without effect; that Mr. Britnell knew nothing of it save that he was sure it was uncommon; and that, though carefully watched, it has never been known to change again.
George MacDonald
The Gray Wolf
One evening-twilight in spring, a young English student, who had wandered northwards as far as the outlying fragments of Scotland called the Orkney[37] and Shetland Islands,[38] found himself on a small island of the latter group, caught in a storm of wind and hail, which had come on suddenly. It was in vain to look about for any shelter; for not only did the storm entirely obscure the landscape, but there was nothing around him save a desert moss.
At length, however, as he walked on for mere walkings sake, he found himself on the verge of a cliff, and saw, over the brow of it, a few feet below him, a ledge of rock, where he might find some shelter from the blast, which blew from behind. Letting himself down by his hands, he alighted upon something that crunched beneath his tread, and found the bones of many small animals scattered about in front of a little cave in the rock, offering the refuge he sought. He went in, and sat upon a stone. The storm increased in violence, and as the darkness grew he became uneasy, for he did not relish the thought of spending the night in the cave. He had parted from his companions on the opposite side of the island, and it added to his uneasiness that they must be full of apprehension about him. At last there came a lull in the storm, and the same instant he heard a footfall, stealthy and light as that of a wild beast, upon the bones at the mouth of the cave. He started up in some fear, though the least thought might have satisfied him that there could be no very dangerous animals upon the island. Before he had time to think, however, the face of a woman appeared in the opening. Eagerly the wanderer spoke. She started at the sound of his voice. He could not see her well, because she was turned towards the darkness of the cave.
Will you tell me how to find my way across the moor to Shielness? he asked.
You cannot find it to-night, she answered, in a sweet tone, and with a smile that bewitched him, revealing the whitest of teeth.
What am I to do, then?
My mother will give you shelter, but that is all she has to offer.
And that is far more than I expected a minute ago, he replied. I shall be most grateful.
She turned in silence and left the cave. The youth followed.
She was barefooted, and her pretty brown feet went catlike over the sharp stones, as she led the way down a rocky path to the shore. Her garments were scanty and torn, and her hair blew tangled in the wind. She seemed about five and twenty, lithe and small. Her long fingers kept clutching and pulling nervously at her skirts as she went. Her face was very gray in complexion, and very worn, but delicately formed, and smooth-skinned. Her thin nostrils were tremulous as eyelids, and her lips, whose curves were faultless, had no color to give sign of indwelling blood. What her eyes were like he could not see, for she had never lifted the delicate films of her eyelids.
At the foot of the cliff, they came upon a little hut leaning against it, and having for its inner apartment a natural hollow within. Smoke was spreading over the face of the rock, and the grateful odor of food gave hope to the hungry student. His guide opened the door of the cottage; he followed her in, and saw a woman bending over a fire in the middle of the floor. On the fire lay a large fish broiling. The daughter spoke a few words, and the mother turned and welcomed the stranger. She had an old and very wrinkled, but honest face, and looked troubled. She dusted the only chair in the cottage, and placed it for him by the side of the fire, opposite the one window, whence he saw a little patch of yellow sand over which the spent waves spread themselves out listlessly. Under this window there was a bench, upon which the daughter threw herself in an unusual posture, resting her chin upon her hand. A moment after, the youth caught the first glimpse of her blue eyes. They were fixed upon him with a strange look of greed, amounting to craving, but, as if aware that they belied or betrayed her, she dropped them instantly. The moment she veiled them, her face, notwithstanding its colorless complexion, was almost beautiful.