It was the spirit she went to meet by day and night at the side of “The Pot.”
It was the belief among the ancients that persons afflicted with certain diseases, or of unsound mind, were possessed by spirits; and still further, they seem to have quite understood that the possessed person had, as it were, two evils at once. The disease was not the spirit, nor the spirit the disease. These were distinct. Those who could exorcise the spirit had also to cure the disease, though the one generally followed the other.
It is hard to understand the intense reality of the vision seen by Agnes, except upon some similar theory. That the inherent insanity of the Lechester family had developed itself in her mind, unsuspected by others, there can be no doubt; but even to the persons who are subject to illusions of the mind, the reality of their visions is seldom, if ever, so absolutely believed in as these were by Lady Agnes. There is just the possibility, even atheists will not deny the possibility—but it is better not to argue the matter. It is sad, indeed, to record the affliction which had fallen upon this most estimable and generous woman, if we regard it as insanity only; if we go a step further, and admit the possibility alluded to, it is sadder still.
At home, in the new wing, the darkness rarely came now, though there was the sense of a presence. It was by the side of “The Pot” that the figure showed itself fully. It rose up from the strange funnel, as if a mist hardened and solidified into shape. It stood before her silent, yet speaking unutterable things.
In the cold winter, when the sky was grey with cloud, the firs black and gloomy, and the drifted snow lay in heaps upon the Downs, there mingled with the sullen roar of the river resounding up “The Pot,” a voice from this mysterious being, which in the savage, fierce desolation of that place spoke of a pride, of an ambition, which rose above even utter failure and degradation. Of a strength of mind which gloried even in its fall; which defied the very heavens in its grandeur; which could not be subdued—immortal in its pride.
As the spring stole on and the soft rain fell, as the buds sprang forth and the thrush sang with joy, the figure grew brighter; an intense vitality seemed to pass from it to her—a glow of life which said, “Come with me; we will wander amid forests such as earth even in its youth never saw, by the shore of lakes such as mortal eye never gazed upon; we will revel in an immortal youth—in a sunshine inconceivable in beauty.”
It was but a step to those arms; she longed, yet she did not take it. At night, when the sky glittered with stars and a solitary planet beamed in the west, the eyes of the shape grew into blazing coals, and her soul was aware that it was thinking of unutterable mysteries, of knowledge locked up for ages and ages, in the infinite space beyond those points of light. Oh, to penetrate into that silent chamber, to walk with reverent footsteps in that library of the universe, to read the wondrous truths written there—to read which was, in itself, life eternal! This, in brief, the spirit spoke to her.
It will now be understood why the strange behaviour of Lady Agnes seemed to grow stranger after the last visit of Marese Baskette and her practical acceptance of his offer. The moment she had in a manner given her hand to him, the claims of the other and supernatural life appeared to be infinitely superior—as is the common case when one has decided, the other course always seems preferable. Yet she could not easily withdraw from her word, nor indeed did she altogether wish to do so; and this indecision drove her into a restless frame of mind. Her visits to “The Pot” became more and more frequent—some times she would go there four times in the course of the day, and once again in the evening. She shut herself in her private room—the one room Violet was never asked to enter—for hours almost every day. There was a restless gleam in her eyes, usually so mild and pleasant.
One evening, after a more than ordinarily restless day had been spent, Agnes suddenly rose up, and retired to her private room. This was usually her custom before going out alone into the park, but on this occasion, Violet watching her, saw to her intense surprise that, instead of leaving the house, she unlocked a door which led into the old mansion, and entered the long deserted apartments of The Towers proper. Such a step would have been under any ordinary circumstances nothing to take notice of, but Violet had gradually worked herself up into a state of alarm, and this unusual proceeding created more surmises in her mind even than the lonely walks in the darkness. She
