The Broad Highway

Indeed, to my mind, there is nothing more delightful than to walk

upon a country road, beneath a midsummer moon, when there is no

sound to break the stillness, save, perhaps, the murmur of wind

in trees, or the throbbing melody of some hidden brook. At such

times the world of every day--the world of Things Material, the

hard, hard world of Common-sense--seems to vanish quite, and we

walk within the fair haven of our dreams, where Imagination

meets, and kisses us upon the brow. And, at his touch, the

Impossible straightway becomes the Possible; the Abstract becomes

the Concrete; our fondest hopes are realized; our most cherished

visions take form, and stand before us; surely, at such an hour,

the gods come down to walk with us awhile.

From this ecstasy I was suddenly aroused by hearing once more

the sound of a footstep upon the road behind me. So distinct and

unmistakable was it that I turned sharp about, and, though the

road seemed as deserted as ever, I walked back, looking into

every patch of shadow, and even thrust into the denser parts of

the hedges with my staff; but still I found no one. And yet I

knew that I was being followed persistently, step by step, but by

whom, and for what reason?

A little farther on, upon one side of the way, was a small wood

or coppice, and now I made towards this, keeping well in the

shadow of the hedge. The trees were somewhat scattered, but the

underbrush was very dense, and amongst this I hid myself where I

could watch the road, and waited. Minute after minute elapsed,

and, losing patience, I was about to give up all hope of thus

discovering my unknown pursuer, when a stick snapped sharply

near by, and, glancing round, I thought I saw a head vanish

behind the bole of an adjacent tree; wherefore I made quickly

towards that tree, but ere I reached it, a man stepped out. A

tall, loose-limbed fellow he was, clad in rough clothes (that

somehow had about them a vague suggestion of ships and the sea),

and with a moth-eaten, fur cap crushed down upon his head. His

face gleamed pale, and his eyes were deep-sunken, and very bright;

also, I noticed that one hand was hidden in the pocket of his

coat. But most of all, I was struck by the extreme pallor of his

face, and the burning brilliancy of his eyes.

And, with the glance that showed me all this, I recognized the

Outside Passenger.