112
WYLDER'S HAMD.
cism, which I had seen here for the first time, so beauti-
fully embodied. I was quite sure she both thought and
felt, and could talk, too, if she chose it. What tremendous
self-reliance and disdain must form the basis of a female
character, which accepted misapprehension and depreciation
with an indifference so genuine as to scorn even the trifling
exertion of disclosing its powers.
She could not possibly care for Wylder, any more than
he cared for her. That odd look I detected in the mirror
— what did it mean? and Wylder's confusion about Cap-
tain Lake — what was that; I could not comprehend the
situation that was forming. I went over Wylder's history
in my mind, and Captain Lake's — all I could recollect
of it — but could find no clue, and that horrible visitation
or vision! what was it?
This latter image had just glided in and taken its place
in my waking dream, when I thought I saw reflected in the
pool at my feet, the shape and face which I never could
forget, of the white, long-chinned old man.
For a second I was unable, I think, to lift my eyes
from the water which presented this cadaverous image.
But the figure began to move, and I raised my eyes,
and saw it retreat, with a limping gait, into the thick
copse before me, in the shadow of which it stopped and
turned stiffly round, and directed on me a look of horror,
and then withdrew.
It is all very fine laughing at me and my fancies. I do
not think there are many men who in my situation would
have felt very differently. I recovered myself; I shouted
lustily after him to stay, and then in a sort of half
frightened rage, I pursued him; but I had to get round
the pool, a considerable circuit. I could not tell which
way he had turned on getting into the thicket; and it was
now dusk, the sun having gone down during my reverie.