I MAKE SOME SINGULAR EXPERIMENTS.
For a little while we walked along in silence, and then I asked my
wife whether she would ride or walk home.
"I should prefer to walk," she said; "it is early, and the air is
fresh and reviving. Things look all the brighter now we are out of
that horrible place. A walk will do us good."
I made no demur, though I was curious to see what the skeleton cat
would do when we entered an omnibus full of people. It would
experience a difficulty in finding a place on the floor of the 'bus,
and there would be no room for it to stretch itself comfortably on the
seats. I wished to ascertain, also, whether among a number of
strangers there would be one to whom it would make itself visible. I
peered into the faces of the passers-by with this thought in my mind,
but I saw no expression of surprise in them, notwithstanding that the
cat seemed to touch their legs in brushing past. Again and again did I
turn my eyes away from the apparition; and again and again, looking
down at my feet, I beheld it as clearly as if it were an actual living
example of its species. Once we got into a crowd and I hoped that I
had lost it. No such luck; it evinced no disposition to leave me.
"Edward," said my wife, "I am sure you are not well. I have tired you
out with this eternal looking over houses to let. You have been very
patient with me"--she pressed my arm affectionately--"and I will try
and make it up to you. I know you never really wished to move."
"I never wished it, Maria."
"And you have gone through all this for my sake. I don't like to give
up a thing once I have set my mind on it,--you know that of old, my
dear,--but the experiences of this morning will last me a lifetime; so
I will give this up."
"The idea of moving?" I asked in a dull voice. "You give it up
altogether?"
"Yes, altogether. We will remain in our old house."
It is a singular confession to make, but this proclamation of the
victory I had gained afforded me no satisfaction. I had no wish to
move; my earnest desire was to remain where we were; but with the
infernal cat gliding by my side, I could think of nothing but the
haunted house in Lamb's Terrace which we had just quitted. In that
house was the spectral figure of the girl who, by spiritual means, had
opened a door I had locked, and presented herself to me. She was now
alone. I had deprived her of a companion who, for aught I knew, might
have been a solace to her. It was as if I had been guilty of a crime;
as if I had condemned her to solitude. But it was folly to torment
myself with such reflections. What had I to do with the incidents of
this eventful day? I was a passive instrument, and was being led by
unseen hands. More pertinent to ask what was the portent of the
apparitions, and why the supernatural visitation was inflicted upon
me, although to these questions I could expect no answer.
Involuntarily I stooped to assure myself once more that the cat was
but a shadow.
"What are you stooping for?" inquired my wife.
"I thought I had dropped my handkerchief."
"It is here, in your pocket." She took it out and handed it to me.
"I was mistaken," I muttered.
She held up her sunshade and hailed a passing hansom, saying
energetically, and with a troubled look at me, "We will ride home."
I did not object. I think if she had said "We will fly home," I should
have made an attempt to fly, so absolutely was I, for the time,
deprived of the power of deciding my own movements. I did not see the
cat spring into the cab, but directly we were seated, there it lay
crouched in front of us; and when the driver pulled up at our house
there it was waiting for the street door to be opened.
"Lie down and rest yourself for an hour," said my wife, with deep
concern in her voice.
"No," I replied, "I will smoke a pipe in the garden."
With wifely solicitude she filled my pipe for me, and held a lighted
match to the tobacco. I puffed up, thanked her with a look, and went
into the garden accompanied by the cat.
In the part of London in which we live there are pleasant gardens
attached to many of the houses, and our little plot of ground is by no
means to be despised. It is some ninety feet in length, is divided in
the center by a broad graveled space, and has a graveled walk all
around it; and here when the weather permits, my wife and I frequently
sit and enjoy ourselves. I am also the proud possessor of a
greenhouse, which, as well as the borders and beds I have laid out, is
in summer and autumn generally bright with flowers, of which I am very
fond; and into this greenhouse I walked to smoke the green fly, which
was doing its worst for my pelargoniums. There are a couple of trees
in my garden, and birds' nests in them. The birds were flitting among
the branches, and I looked at the cat, wondering whether it would
spring after its feathered victims.
It took no notice of them, nor they of it. I remained in the
greenhouse ten or twelve minutes, and then it occurred to me to make
an experiment. With a swift and sudden motion I left the greenhouse
and pulled the door behind me, shutting the cat inside. I walked
toward the center of the garden, and the animal I thought I had
cunningly imprisoned glided on at my side. Doors shut and locked, and
doubtless stone walls, presented no greater obstacle to the creature
than the air I breathed.
I sat down on the garden seat and smoked and pondered, and was aroused
by a soft purring at my feet, and the contact of a furry body against
my legs. I uttered an exclamation, and, looking down, saw our own
household cat--a tortoise-shell tabby--rubbing against me. Now,
thought I, there will be a fight. But there was nothing of the kind. I
felt convinced that the skeleton cat saw our tortoise-shell cat, and
presently I was quite as convinced that the flesh and blood reality
was unconscious of the presence of the disembodied spirit.
I made another experiment. I went stealthily into the kitchen, and
filled a saucer with milk. This saucer I took into the garden and put
upon the gravel before the two cats.
"You must be hungry," I said aloud to the spectral figure, with a
feeble attempt at jocularity. "Lap up."
It made no movement. With a look of gratitude at me our tabby lapped
up the whole of the milk, and licked the saucer dry.
My wife came out and, seeing what I had done, smiled.
"Are you feeling better?" she asked solicitously.
"There is nothing whatever the matter with me," I said, with an
unreasonable show of irritation.
She wisely made no reply, and I was once more left alone with my
supernatural companion.
Thus passed the day, and I was glad when the hour arrived for Bob
Millet to make his appearance. He came punctually and was cordially
received by my wife.
"You are in time for tea, Mr. Millet," she said, shaking hands with
him. "I want you to feel that you are really welcome here."
"Indeed I do feel so," said Bob, gratified by this reception, which I
fancy he hardly expected.
They made a good meal, but though my wife had thoughtfully prepared a
dish of which I was very fond--a tongue stewed with raisins--I ate
very little.
"No appetite, Ned?" said Bob.
I shook my head gloomily.
"He is out of sorts, Mr. Millet," said my wife, "and I am delighted
you are here to cheer him up. He has me to thank for his low spirits;
it is all because of my stupid wish to leave the house in which we are
as comfortable as we could reasonably hope to be. I have worried him
to death, almost, dragging him about against his will--though he has
never complained--from morning till night for I don't know how long
past. He is not half the man he was; he doesn't eat well and he
doesn't sleep well, and I am to blame for it."
She was ready to cry with remorse, and I felt ashamed of myself for
not having the strength to battle with the delusion which surely would
not torture me forever.
I patted her on the shoulder, and put on a more cheerful countenance.
She brightened up instantly, and then Bob asked whether we had been to
79 Lamb's Terrace.
"Yes, we have," said my wife, "and I am truly thankful that we got out
of it safely."
"Ah!" said Bob, lifting his eyes.
"You were right, Mr. Millet," said my wife, "the house is haunted."
"Oh," said Bob, "I only told you what I had heard. For my part, I
don't even know where Lamb's Terrace is."
"Take my advice, Mr. Millet, and don't try to know. The less you see
of the place the better it will be for you."
"Why?"
"Because it _is_ haunted," she replied with emphatic shakes of her
head, "and I am much obliged to you for putting us on our guard."
"Then you saw something?"
My wife looked at me.
"Tell him what you fancy you saw," I said.
"It was not fancy," she rejoined; "I have been thinking over it during
the day, and the more I think, the more I am convinced that I did
see--what I saw."
"I should like to hear about it," said Bob.
"You shall."
And she told him all; of our going over the house till we got to the
room on the second floor, of my pulling the bell, of the sounds we had
heard proceeding from the basement and approaching nearer and nearer
till they were outside in the passage, of my locking the door, of the
door opening of its own accord, and of the appearance on the threshold
of the specter of a young girl, and, finally, of her fainting away.
"It was only my obstinacy," she said, "that took us up to the top of
the house. Edward was quite ready to leave it before we had been in
the place two minutes, but I insisted upon going into all the rooms,
and I was properly punished for it. I was frightened enough, goodness
knows, before I fainted, for I was chilled all over by what I had
already seen, and I ought to have been satisfied; but you know what
women are, Mr. Millet, when they take a fancy into their heads."
"There, Bob," said I, "there's a confession to make; not many women
would say as much."
Bob smiled, and said, "You are too hard on yourself. We are much of a
muchness--men and women alike; there is nothing to choose between us."
"You are very good to say so, Mr. Millet."
"When you recovered from your faint," said Bob, "was the figure still
there?"
"No, it was gone."
"And you did not see it again?"
"No, thank God!"
"Did you see it?" asked Bob, turning to me. "He says he didn't," said
my wife, quickly replying for me, "but----"
"But," I added, "she does not believe me."
"How can I believe you," said my wife reproachfully, "when the very
moment before I swooned away I saw your eyes almost starting out of
your head with fright."
"Oh, well," I said, "I suppose I have as much right to fancy things as
you."
"Of course you have, and it was very considerate of you to deny that
you saw anything. He is the best husband in the world, Mr. Millet, and
if he thinks I don't appreciate him he is mistaken."
"Now, my dear," I said soothingly, "you know I don't think anything of
the sort; if I am the best husband in the world, so are you the best
wife in the world. What do you say to our going in for the flitch of
bacon?"
"It is all very well to make a laughing matter of it," said my wife
seriously. "I will ask Mr. Millet this plain question. He may say,
like you, that it is all fancy; but pray how does he account for the
opening of a locked door?"
"I told you," I interposed before Bob could speak, "that I must have
been mistaken in supposing I had locked it."
"Very good. But the door was shut if it was not locked."
"I don't deny that it was."
"How did it come open, then?"
"I told you that, too," I replied. "The wind."
"What wind?"
"The wind from the window through the broken panes."
She turned to Bob triumphantly. "What do you think of that, Mr.
Millet? When we go into the room the door slams, and my husband says
it slams because of the wind through the window. I accept that as
reasonable, but is it reasonable to suppose that the same wind that
blows a door shut from the inside of a room should blow it open from
the outside?"
"Well, no," said Bob, with a sly look at me; "I should say it was not
reasonable."
I was fairly caught. My wife's logic was too much for me.
"And now," said she, "as I know it will worry him if I go on talking
about it, I will leave you two gentlemen together while I go and look
after some affairs. You will spend the evening with us, Mr. Millet?"
"With much pleasure," he said.
"And I beg your pardon," she said, "for having misjudged you. I did
think that you and my husband were in a plot together to set me
against the house, and I did not think it was nice behavior in a
gentleman who was paying me his first visit. I told my husband as much
last night before we went to sleep, and he stood up for you like the
true friend he is; and now I am glad to say I have found out my
mistake. I hope you will forgive me.
"There is nothing to forgive," said Bob, in the kindest and gentlest
tone imaginable. "All that you have said and thought and done was most
fair and reasonable, and I ought to be thankful for the little
misunderstanding, if it has given you a better opinion of me."