The night did not promise to be a good one. The clouds were scudding
wildly from east to west. The air was moist and chill. There was
no light from moon or stars, and I strode with difficulty, though
still rapidly, through the unpaved streets. I was singularly and
painfully excited by the conversation with Kingsley. My own experience
before, had prepared me to become so, with the slightest additional
provocation. Facts were rapidly accumulating to confirm my fears,
and lessen my doubts. That dark, meaning letter of Mrs. Delaney!
The adventure in the streamlet.--The scream--the look--the secrecy!
What a history seemed to be compressed in these few topics.
I hurried forward--I was now among the trees. I had almost to grope
my way, it was so dark. I was helped forward by some governing
instincts. My fiend was busy all the while. I fancied, now, that
there was something exulting in his tone. But he drove me forward
without forbearance. I felt that these clouds in the sky--this gloom
and excitement in my heart--were not for nothing. Every gust of
wind brought to me some whisper of fear; and there seemed a constant
murmur among the trees--one burden--whose incessant utterance was
only shame and wo. How completely the agony of one's spirit sheds
its tone of horror upon the surrounding world. How the flowers wither
as our hearts wither--how sickly grows sunlight and moonlight, in
our despair--how lonely and utter sad is the breath of winds, when
our bosoms are about to be laid bare of hope and sustenance by the
brooding tempest of our sorrows.
I had a terrible prescience of some dreadful experience which awaited
me as I drove forward. Obstructions of tree and shrub, and tangled
vines, encountered me, but did not long arrest, and I really felt
them not. I put them aside without a consciousness.
At length a glimmering light informed me I was near the cottage.
I could see the heavy dark masses of foliage that crowded before
the entrance. The light was in the parlor. There was also one in
the room of Mrs. Porterfield. Ours, which was on the same floor
with hers, was in darkness. I never experienced sensations more
like those of a drunken man than when, working my way cautiously
among the trees, I approached the window. The glasses were down,
possibly in consequence of the violence of the gust. But there was
one thing unusual. The curtains were also down at both windows.
These curtains were half-curtains only. They fell from the upper
edge of the lower sash, and were simply meant to protect the inmates
from the casual glance of persons in front. The house was on an
elevation of two or three feet from the ground. It was impossible
to see into the apartment unless I could raise myself at least that
much above my own stature. I looked around me for a stump, bench,
block--anything; but there was nothing, or in the darkness I failed
to find it. To clamber up against the side of the house would have
disturbed the inmates. I ascended a tree, and buried within its
leaves, looked directly into the apartment.