Godfrey went to bed that night a very weary and chastened youth, fornever before had he experienced so many emotions in a few short hours.Moreover, he could not sleep well. Nightmares haunted him in which hewas being hunted and mocked by a jeering crowd, until Sims arrived andrescued him in the cab. Only it was the dead Sims that drove withstaring eyes and fallen jaw, and the side of the horse was torn open.
Next he saw Isobel and the Knight in Armour, who kept pace on eitherside of the ghostly cab and mocked at him, tossing roses to each otheras they sped along, until finally his father appeared, called Isobel ayoung serpent, at which she laughed loudly, and bore off Sims to beburied in the vault with the Plantagenet lady at Monk's Acre.
Godfrey woke up shaking with fear, wet with perspiration, and reflectedearnestly on his latter end, which seemed to be at hand. If that great,burly, raucous-voiced Sims had died so suddenly, why should not he,Godfrey?
He wondered where Sims had gone to, and what he was doing now.Explaining the matter of the half-sovereign to St. Peter, perhaps, andhoping humbly that it and others would be overlooked, "since after allhe had done the right thing by the young gent."
Poor Sims, he was sorry for him, but it might have been worse. _He_might have been in the cab himself and now be offering explanations ofhis own as to a wild desire to kill that knight in armour, and Isobelas well. Oh! what a fool he had been. What business was it of his ifIsobel chose to give roses to some friend of hers at a dance? She wasnot his property, but only a girl with whom he chanced to have beenbrought up, and who found him a pleasant companion when there was noone else at hand.
By nature, as has been recorded, Godfrey was intensely proud, and thenand there he made a resolution that he would have nothing more to dowith Isobel. Never again would he hang about the skirts of that fineand rich young lady, who on the night that he was going away could giveroses to another man, just because he was a lord and good-looking--yes,and kiss them too. His father was quite right about women, and he wouldtake his advice to the letter, and begin to study Proverbs forthwith,especially the marked passages.
Having come to this conclusion, and thus eased his troubled mind, hewent to sleep in good earnest, for he was very tired. The next thing ofwhich he became aware was that someone was hammering at the door, andcalling out that a lady downstairs said he must get up at once if hemeant to be in time. He looked at his watch, a seven-and-sixpennyarticle that he had been given off a Christmas tree at Hawk's Hall, andobserved, with horror, that he had just ten minutes in which to dress,pack, and catch the train. Somehow he did it, for fortunately his billhad been paid. Always in after days a tumultuous vision remained in hismind of himself, a long, lank youth with unbrushed hair and unbuttonedwaistcoat, carrying a bag and a coat, followed by an hotel porter withhis luggage, rushing wildly down an interminable platform with histicket in his teeth towards an already moving train. At an opencarriage door stood a lady in whom he recognized Miss Ogilvy, who wasimploring the guard to hold the train.
"Can't do it, ma'am, any longer," said the guard, between blasts of hiswhistle and wavings of his green flag. "It's all my place is worth todelay the Continental Express for more than a minute. Thank you kindly,ma'am. Here he comes," and the flag paused for a few seconds. "In yougo, young gentleman."
A heave, a struggle, an avalanche of baggage, and Godfrey found himselfin the arms of Miss Ogilvy in a reserved first-class carriage. Fromthose kind supporting arms he slid gently and slowly to the floor.
"Well," said that lady, contemplating him with his back resting againsta portmanteau, "you cut things rather fine."
Still seated on the floor, Godfrey pulled out his watch and looked atit, then remarked that eleven minutes before he was fast asleep in bed.
"I thought as much," she said severely, "and that's why I told the maidto see if you had been called, which I daresay you forgot to arrangefor yourself."
"I did," admitted Godfrey, rising and buttoning his waistcoat. "I havehad a very troubled night; all sorts of things happened to me."
"What have you been doing?" asked Miss Ogilvy, whose interest wasexcited.
Then Godfrey, whose bosom was bursting, told her all, and the storylasted most of the way to Dover.
"You poor boy," she said, when he had finished, "you poor boy!"
"I left the basket with the food behind, and I am so hungry," remarkedGodfrey presently.
"There's a restaurant car on the train, come and have some breakfast,"said Miss Ogilvy, "for on the boat you may not wish to eat. I shall atany rate."
This was untrue for she had breakfasted already, but that did notmatter.
"My father said I was not to take meals on the trains," explainedGodfrey, awkwardly, "because of the expense."
"Oh! I'm your father, or rather your mother, now. Besides, I have atable," she added in a nebulous manner.
So Godfrey followed her to the dining car, where he made an excellentmeal.
"You don't seem to eat much," he said at length. "You have only had acup of tea and half a bit of toast."
"I never can when I am going on the sea," she explained. "I expect Ishall be very ill, and you will have to look after me, and you know theless you eat, well--the less you can be ill."
"Why did you not tell me that before?" he remarked, contemplating hisempty plate with a gloomy eye. "Besides I expect we shall be indifferent parts of the ship."
"Oh! I daresay it can be arranged," she answered.
And as a matter of fact, it was "arranged," all the way to Lucerne. AtDover station Miss Ogilvy had a hurried interview at the ticket office.Godfrey did not in the least understand what she was doing, but as aresult he was her companion throughout the long journey. The crossingwas very rough, and it was Godfrey who was ill, excessively ill, notMiss Ogilvy who, with the assistance of her maid and the steward,attended assiduously to him in his agonies.
"And to think," he moaned faintly as they moored alongside of theFrench pier, "that once I wished to be a sailor."
"Nelson was always sick," said Miss Ogilvy, wiping his damp brow with ascented pocket-handkerchief, while the maid held the smelling-salts tohis nose.
"Then he must have been a fool to go to sea," muttered Godfrey, andrelapsed into a torpor, from which he awoke only to find himselfstretched at length on the cushions of a first-class carriage.
Later on, the journey became very agreeable. Godfrey was interested ineverything, being of a quick and receptive mind, and Miss Ogilvy proveda fund of information. When they had exhausted the scenery theyconversed on other topics. Soon she knew everything there was to knowabout him and Isobel, whom it was evident she could not understand.
"Tell me," she said, looking at his dark and rather unusual eyes, "doyou ever have dreams, Godfrey?" for now she called him by his Christianname.
"Not at night, when I sleep very soundly, except after that poor cabmanwas killed. I have seen lots of dead people, because my father alwaystakes me to look at them in the parish, to remind me of my own latterend, as he says, but they never made me dream before."
"Then do you have them at all?"
He hesitated a little.
"Sometimes, at least visions of a sort, when I am walking alone,especially in the evening, or wondering about things. But always when Iam alone."
"What are they?" she asked eagerly.
"I can't quite explain," he replied in a slow voice. "They come andthey go, and I forget them, because they fade out, just like a dreamdoes, you know."
"You must remember something; try to tell me about them."
"Well, I seem to be among a great many people whom I have never met.Yet I know them and they know me, and talk to me about all sorts ofthings. For instance, if I am puzzling over anything they will explainit quite clearly, but afterwards I always forget the explanation and amno wiser than I was before. A hand holding a cloth seems to wipe it outof my mind, just as one cleans a slate."
"Is that all?"
"Not quite. Occasionally I meet the people afterwards
. For instance,Thomas Sims, the cabman, was one of them, and," he added colouring,"forgive me for saying so, but you are another. I knew it at once, themoment I saw you, and that is what made me feel so friendly."
"How very odd!" she exclaimed, "and how delightful. Because, yousee--well never mind----"
He looked at her expectantly, but as she said no more, went on.
"Then now and again I see places before I really do see them. Forexample, I think that presently we shall pass along a hillside withgreat mountain slopes above and below us covered with dark trees.Opposite to us also, running up to three peaks with a patch of snow onthe centre peak, but not quite at the top." He closed his eyes, andadded, "Yes, and there is a village at the bottom of the valley by aswift-running stream, and in it a small white church with a spire and agilt weathercock with a bird on it. Then," he continued rapidly, "I cansee the house where I am going to live, with the Pasteur Boiset, an oldwhite house with woods above and all about it, and the beautiful lakebeneath, and beyond, a great mountain. There is a tree in the gardenopposite the front door, like a big cherry tree, only the fruit lookslarger than cherries," he added with confidence.
"I suppose that no one showed you a photograph of the place?" she askeddoubtfully, "for as it happens I know it. It is only about two milesfrom Lucerne by the short way through the woods. What is more, there isa tree with a delicious fruit, either a big cherry or a small plum, forI have eaten some of it several years ago."
"No," he answered, "no one. My father only told me that the name of thelittle village is Kleindorf. He wrote it on the label for my bag."
Just then the line went round a bend. "Look," he said, "there is theplace I told you we were coming to, with the dark trees, the threepeaks, and the stream, and the white church with the cock on top of thespire."
She let down the carriage window, and stared at the scene.
"Yes," she exclaimed, "it is just as you described. Oh! at last I havefound what I have been seeking for years. Godfrey, I believe that youhave the true gift."
"What gift, Miss Ogilvy?"
"Clairvoyance, of course, and perhaps clairaudience as well."
The lad burst out laughing, and said that he wished it were somethingmore useful.
From all of which it will be guessed that Ethel Ogilvy was a mystic ofthe first water.