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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/23218-0.txt b/23218-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c78bdcc --- /dev/null +++ b/23218-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,795 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Room, by H. G. Wells + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Red Room + +Author: H. G. Wells + +Release Date: October 27, 2007 [EBook #23218] +Last Updated: September 17, 2016 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED ROOM *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +THE RED ROOM + +By H. G. Wells + + + + +“I can assure you,” said I, “that it will take a very tangible ghost to +frighten me.” And I stood up before the fire with my glass in my hand. + +“It is your own choosing,” said the man with the withered arm, and glanced +at me askance. + +“Eight-and-twenty years,” said I, “I have lived, and never a ghost have I +seen as yet.” + +The old woman sat staring hard into the fire, her pale eyes wide open. +“Ay,” she broke in; “and eight-and-twenty years you have lived and never +seen the likes of this house, I reckon. There’s a many things to see, when +one’s still but eight-and-twenty.” She swayed her head slowly from side to +side. “A many things to see and sorrow for.” + +I half suspected the old people were trying to enhance the spiritual +terrors of their house by their droning insistence. I put down my empty +glass on the table and looked about the room, and caught a glimpse of +myself, abbreviated and broadened to an impossible sturdiness, in the +queer old mirror at the end of the room. “Well,” I said, “if I see +anything to-night, I shall be so much the wiser. For I come to the +business with an open mind.” + +“It’s your own choosing,” said the man with the withered arm once more. + +I heard the faint sound of a stick and a shambling step on the flags in +the passage outside. The door creaked on its hinges as a second old man +entered, more bent, more wrinkled, more aged even than the first. He +supported himself by the help of a crutch, his eyes were covered by +a shade, and his lower lip, half averted, hung pale and pink from his +decaying yellow teeth. He made straight for an armchair on the opposite +side of the table, sat down clumsily, and began to cough. The man with +the withered hand gave the newcomer a short glance of positive dislike; +the old woman took no notice of his arrival, but remained with her eyes +fixed steadily on the fire. + +“I said--it’s your own choosing,” said the man with the withered hand, +when the coughing had ceased for a while. + +“It’s my own choosing,” I answered. + +The man with the shade became aware of my presence for the first time, +and threw his head back for a moment, and sidewise, to see me. I caught +a momentary glimpse of his eyes, small and bright and inflamed. Then he +began to cough and splutter again. + +“Why don’t you drink?” said the man with the withered arm, pushing the +beer toward him. The man with the shade poured out a glassful with a +shaking hand, that splashed half as much again on the deal table. A +monstrous shadow of him crouched upon the wall, and mocked his action +as he poured and drank. I must confess I had scarcely expected these +grotesque custodians. There is, to my mind, something inhuman in +senility, something crouching and atavistic; the human qualities seem +to drop from old people insensibly day by day. The three of them made me +feel uncomfortable with their gaunt silences, their bent carriage, +their evident unfriendliness to me and to one another. And that night, +perhaps, I was in the mood for uncomfortable impressions. I resolved to +get away from their vague fore-shadowings of the evil things upstairs. + +“If,” said I, “you will show me to this haunted room of yours, I will +make myself comfortable there.” + +The old man with the cough jerked his head back so suddenly that it +startled me, and shot another glance of his red eyes at me from out of +the darkness under the shade, but no one answered me. I waited a minute, +glancing from one to the other. The old woman stared like a dead body, +glaring into the fire with lack-lustre eyes. + +“If,” I said, a little louder, “if you will show me to this haunted room +of yours, I will relieve you from the task of entertaining me.” + +“There’s a candle on the slab outside the door,” said the man with the +withered hand, looking at my feet as he addressed me. “But if you go to +the Red Room to-night--” + +“This night of all nights!” said the old woman, softly. + +“--You go alone.” + +“Very well,” I answered, shortly, “and which way do I go?” + +“You go along the passage for a bit,” said he, nodding his head on his +shoulder at the door, “until you come to a spiral staircase; and on the +second landing is a door covered with green baize. Go through that, and +down the long corridor to the end, and the Red Room is on your left up +the steps.” + +“Have I got that right?” I said, and repeated his directions. + +He corrected me in one particular. + +“And you are really going?” said the man with the shade, looking at me +again for the third time with that queer, unnatural tilting of the face. + +“This night of all nights!” whispered the old woman. + +“It is what I came for,” I said, and moved toward the door. As I did so, +the old man with the shade rose and staggered round the table, so as to +be closer to the others and to the fire. At the door I turned and +looked at them, and saw they were all close together, dark against the +firelight, staring at me over their shoulders, with an intent expression +on their ancient faces. + +“Good-night,” I said, setting the door open. “It’s your own choosing,” + said the man with the withered arm. + +I left the door wide open until the candle was well alight, and then I +shut them in, and walked down the chilly, echoing passage. + +I must confess that the oddness of these three old pensioners in +whose charge her ladyship had left the castle, and the deep-toned, +old-fashioned furniture of the housekeeper’s room, in which they +foregathered, had affected me curiously in spite of my effort to keep +myself at a matter-of-fact phase. They seemed to belong to another age, +an older age, an age when things spiritual were indeed to be feared, +when common sense was uncommon, an age when omens and witches were +credible, and ghosts beyond denying. Their very existence, thought I, is +spectral; the cut of their clothing, fashions born in dead brains; the +ornaments and conveniences in the room about them even are ghostly--the +thoughts of vanished men, which still haunt rather than participate in +the world of to-day. And the passage I was in, long and shadowy, with +a film of moisture glistening on the wall, was as gaunt and cold as a +thing that is dead and rigid. But with an effort I sent such thoughts +to the right-about. The long, drafty subterranean passage was chilly and +dusty, and my candle flared and made the shadows cower and quiver. The +echoes rang up and down the spiral staircase, and a shadow came sweeping +up after me, and another fled before me into the darkness overhead. I +came to the wide landing and stopped there for a moment listening to a +rustling that I fancied I heard creeping behind me, and then, satisfied +of the absolute silence, pushed open the unwilling baize-covered door +and stood in the silent corridor. + +The effect was scarcely what I expected, for the moonlight, coming in by +the great window on the grand staircase, picked out everything in vivid +black shadow or reticulated silvery illumination. Everything seemed in +its proper position; the house might have been deserted on the yesterday +instead of twelve months ago. There were candles in the sockets of +the sconces, and whatever dust had gathered on the carpets or upon the +polished flooring was distributed so evenly as to be invisible in my +candlelight. A waiting stillness was over everything. I was about to +advance, and stopped abruptly. A bronze group stood upon the landing +hidden from me by a corner of the wall; but its shadow fell with +marvelous distinctness upon the white paneling, and gave me the +impression of some one crouching to waylay me. The thing jumped upon +my attention suddenly. I stood rigid for half a moment, perhaps. Then, +with my hand in the pocket that held the revolver, I advanced, only +to discover a Ganymede and Eagle, glistening in the moonlight. That +incident for a time restored my nerve, and a dim porcelain Chinaman on a +buhl table, whose head rocked as I passed, scarcely startled me. + +The door of the Red Room and the steps up to it were in a shadowy +corner. I moved my candle from side to side in order to see clearly the +nature of the recess in which I stood, before opening the door. Here it +was, thought I, that my predecessor was found, and the memory of +that story gave me a sudden twinge of apprehension. I glanced over my +shoulder at the black Ganymede in the moonlight, and opened the door +of the Red Room rather hastily, with my face half turned to the pallid +silence of the corridor. + +I entered, closed the door behind me at once, turned the key I found +in the lock within, and stood with the candle held aloft surveying the +scene of my vigil, the great Red Room of Lorraine Castle, in which the +young Duke had died; or rather in which he had begun his dying, for +he had opened the door and fallen headlong down the steps I had just +ascended. That had been the end of his vigil, of his gallant attempt to +conquer the ghostly tradition of the place, and never, I thought, had +apoplexy better served the ends of superstition. There were other +and older stories that clung to the room, back to the half-incredible +beginning of it all, the tale of a timid wife and the tragic end that +came to her husband’s jest of frightening her. And looking round that +huge shadowy room with its black window bays, its recesses and alcoves, +its dusty brown-red hangings and dark gigantic furniture, one could +well understand the legends that had sprouted in its black corners, its +germinating darknesses. My candle was a little tongue of light in the +vastness of the chamber; its rays failed to pierce to the opposite +end of the room, and left an ocean of dull red mystery and suggestion, +sentinel shadows and watching darknesses beyond its island of light. And +the stillness of desolation brooded over it all. + +I must confess some impalpable quality of that ancient room disturbed +me. I tried to fight the feeling down. I resolved to make a systematic +examination of the place, and so, by leaving nothing to the imagination, +dispel the fanciful suggestions of the obscurity before they obtained +a hold upon me. After satisfying myself of the fastening of the door, I +began to walk round the room, peering round each article of furniture, +tucking up the valances of the bed and opening its curtains wide. In +one place there was a distinct echo to my footsteps, the noises I made +seemed so little that they enhanced rather than broke the silence of the +place. I pulled up the blinds and examined the fastenings of the several +windows. Attracted by the fall of a particle of dust, I leaned forward +and looked up the blackness of the wide chimney. Then, trying to +preserve my scientific attitude of mind, I walked round and began +tapping the oak paneling for any secret opening, but I desisted before +reaching the alcove. I saw my face in a mirror--white. + +There were two big mirrors in the room, each with a pair of sconces +bearing candles, and on the mantelshelf, too, were candles in china +candle-sticks. All these I lit one after the other. The fire was +laid--an unexpected consideration from the old housekeeper--and I lit +it, to keep down any disposition to shiver, and when it was burning +well I stood round with my back to it and regarded the room again. I +had pulled up a chintz-covered armchair and a table to form a kind of +barricade before me. On this lay my revolver, ready to hand. My precise +examination had done me a little good, but I still found the remoter +darkness of the place and its perfect stillness too stimulating for the +imagination. The echoing of the stir and crackling of the fire was no +sort of comfort to me. The shadow in the alcove at the end of the +room began to display that undefinable quality of a presence, that odd +suggestion of a lurking living thing that comes so easily in silence +and solitude. And to reassure myself, I walked with a candle into it +and satisfied myself that there was nothing tangible there. I stood that +candle upon the floor of the alcove and left it in that position. + +By this time I was in a state of considerable nervous tension, although +to my reason there was no adequate cause for my condition. My mind, +however, was perfectly clear. I postulated quite unreservedly that +nothing supernatural could happen, and to pass the time I began +stringing some rhymes together, Ingoldsby fashion, concerning the +original legend of the place. A few I spoke aloud, but the echoes were +not pleasant. For the same reason I also abandoned, after a time, a +conversation with myself upon the impossibility of ghosts and haunting. +My mind reverted to the three old and distorted people downstairs, and I +tried to keep it upon that topic. + +The sombre reds and grays of the room troubled me; even with its seven +candles the place was merely dim. The light in the alcove flaring in +a draft, and the fire flickering, kept the shadows and penumbra +perpetually shifting and stirring in a noiseless flighty dance. Casting +about for a remedy, I recalled the wax candles I had seen in the +corridor, and, with a slight effort, carrying a candle and leaving the +door open, I walked out into the moonlight, and presently returned with +as many as ten. These I put in the various knick-knacks of china with +which the room was sparsely adorned, and lit and placed them where +the shadows had lain deepest, some on the floor, some in the window +recesses, arranging and rearranging them until at last my seventeen +candles were so placed that not an inch of the room but had the direct +light of at least one of them. It occurred to me that when the ghost +came I could warn him not to trip over them. The room was now quite +brightly illuminated. There was something very cheering and reassuring +in these little silent streaming flames, and to notice their steady +diminution of length offered me an occupation and gave me a reassuring +sense of the passage of time. + +Even with that, however, the brooding expectation of the vigil weighed +heavily enough upon me. I stood watching the minute hand of my watch +creep towards midnight. + +Then something happened in the alcove. I did not see the candle go out, +I simply turned and saw that the darkness was there, as one might start +and see the unexpected presence of a stranger. The black shadow had +sprung back to its place. “By Jove,” said I aloud, recovering from my +surprise, “that draft’s a strong one;” and taking the matchbox from the +table, I walked across the room in a leisurely manner to relight the +corner again. My first match would not strike, and as I succeeded with +the second, something seemed to blink on the wall before me. I turned my +head involuntarily and saw that the two candles on the little table by +the fireplace were extinguished. I rose at once to my feet. + +“Odd,” I said. “Did I do that myself in a flash of absent-mindedness?” + +I walked back, relit one, and as I did so I saw the candle in the +right sconce of one of the mirrors wink and go right out, and almost +immediately its companion followed it. The flames vanished as if the +wick had been suddenly nipped between a finger and thumb, leaving the +wick neither glowing nor smoking, but black. While I stood gaping the +candle at the foot of the bed went out, and the shadows seemed to take +another step toward me. + +“This won’t do!” said I, and first one and then another candle on the +mantelshelf followed. + +“What’s up?” I cried, with a queer high note getting into my voice +somehow. At that the candle on the corner of the wardrobe went out, and +the one I had relit in the alcove followed. + +“Steady on!” I said, “those candles are wanted,” speaking with a +half-hysterical facetiousness, and scratching away at a match the +while, “for the mantel candlesticks.” My hands trembled so much that +twice I missed the rough paper of the matchbox. As the mantel emerged +from darkness again, two candles in the remoter end of the room were +eclipsed. But with the same match I also relit the larger mirror +candles, and those on the floor near the doorway, so that for the moment +I seemed to gain on the extinctions. But then in a noiseless volley +there vanished four lights at once in different corners of the room, and +I struck another match in quivering haste, and stood hesitating whither +to take it. + +As I stood undecided, an invisible hand seemed to sweep out the two +candles on the table. With a cry of terror I dashed at the alcove, then +into the corner and then into the window, relighting three as two more +vanished by the fireplace, and then, perceiving a better way, I dropped +matches on the iron-bound deedbox in the corner, and caught up the +bedroom candlestick. With this I avoided the delay of striking matches, +but for all that the steady process of extinction went on, and the +shadows I feared and fought against returned, and crept in upon me, +first a step gained on this side of me, then on that. I was now almost +frantic with the horror of the coming darkness, and my self-possession +deserted me. I leaped panting from candle to candle in a vain struggle +against that remorseless advance. + +I bruised myself in the thigh against the table, I sent a chair +headlong, I stumbled and fell and whisked the cloth from the table in +my fall. My candle rolled away from me and I snatched another as I rose. +Abruptly this was blown out as I swung it off the table by the wind of +my sudden movement, and immediately the two remaining candles followed. +But there was light still in the room, a red light, that streamed across +the ceiling and staved off the shadows from me. The fire! Of course I +could still thrust my candle between the bars and relight it. + +I turned to where the flames were still dancing between the glowing +coals and splashing red reflections upon the furniture; made two steps +toward the grate, and incontinently the flames dwindled and vanished, +the glow vanished, the reflections rushed together and disappeared, and +as I thrust the candle between the bars darkness closed upon me like the +shutting of an eye, wrapped about me in a stifling embrace, sealed my +vision, and crushed the last vestiges of self-possession from my brain. +And it was not only palpable darkness, but intolerable terror. The +candle fell from my hands. I flung out my arms in a vain effort to +thrust that ponderous blackness away from me, and lifting up my voice, +screamed with all my might, once, twice, thrice. Then I think I must +have staggered to my feet. I know I thought suddenly of the moonlit +corridor, and with my head bowed and my arms over my face, made a +stumbling run for the door. + +But I had forgotten the exact position of the door, and I struck myself +heavily against the corner of the bed. I staggered back, turned, and was +either struck or struck myself against some other bulky furnishing. I +have a vague memory of battering myself thus to and fro in the darkness, +of a heavy blow at last upon my forehead, of a horrible sensation +of falling that lasted an age, of my last frantic effort to keep my +footing, and then I remember no more. + +I opened my eyes in daylight. My head was roughly bandaged, and the man +with the withered hand was watching my face. I looked about me trying +to remember what had happened, and for a space I could not recollect. +I rolled my eyes into the corner and saw the old woman, no longer +abstracted, no longer terrible, pouring out some drops of medicine +from a little blue phial into a glass. “Where am I?” I said. “I seem to +remember you, and yet I can not remember who you are.” + +They told me then, and I heard of the haunted Red Room as one who hears +a tale. “We found you at dawn,” said he, “and there was blood on your +forehead and lips.” + +I wondered that I had ever disliked him. The three of them in the +daylight seemed commonplace old folk enough. The man with the green +shade had his head bent as one who sleeps. + +It was very slowly I recovered the memory of my experience. “You +believe now,” said the old man with the withered hand, “that the room is +haunted?” He spoke no longer as one who greets an intruder, but as one +who condoles with a friend. + +“Yes,” said I, “the room is haunted.” + +“And you have seen it. And we who have been here all our lives have +never set eyes upon it. Because we have never dared. Tell us, is it +truly the old earl who--” + +“No,” said I, “it is not.” + +“I told you so,” said the old lady, with the glass in her hand. “It is +his poor young countess who was frightened--” + +“It is not,” I said. “There is neither ghost of earl nor ghost of +countess in that room; there is no ghost there at all, but worse, far +worse, something impalpable--” + +“Well?” they said. + +“The worst of all the things that haunt poor mortal men,” said I; “and +that is, in all its nakedness--‘Fear!’ Fear that will not have light +nor sound, that will not bear with reason, that deafens and darkens and +overwhelms. It followed me through the corridor, it fought against me in +the room--” + +I stopped abruptly. There was an interval of silence. My hand went up to +my bandages. “The candles went out one after another, and I fled--” + +Then the man with the shade lifted his face sideways to see me and +spoke. + +“That is it,” said he. “I knew that was it. A Power of Darkness. To put +such a curse upon a home! It lurks there always. You can feel it even +in the daytime, even of a bright summer’s day, in the hangings, in the +curtains, keeping behind you however you face about. In the dusk it +creeps in the corridor and follows you, so that you dare not turn. It is +even as you say. Fear itself is in that room. Black Fear.... And there +it will be... so long as this house of sin endures.” + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Room, by H. G. Wells + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED ROOM *** + +***** This file should be named 23218-0.txt or 23218-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/2/1/23218/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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G. Wells + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Room, by H. G. Wells + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Red Room + +Author: H. G. Wells + +Release Date: October 27, 2007 [EBook #23218] +Last Updated: September 17, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED ROOM *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE RED ROOM + </h1> + <h2> + By H. G. Wells<br /> <br /> + </h2> + + + + +<p> +“I can assure you,” said I, “that it will take a very tangible ghost to +frighten me.” And I stood up before the fire with my glass in my hand. +</p> + <p> +“It is your own choosing,” said the man with the withered arm, and glanced +at me askance. +</p> + <p> +“Eight-and-twenty years,” said I, “I have lived, and never a ghost have I +seen as yet.” + </p> + <p> +The old woman sat staring hard into the fire, her pale eyes wide open. +“Ay,” she broke in; “and eight-and-twenty years you have lived and never +seen the likes of this house, I reckon. There’s a many things to see, when +one’s still but eight-and-twenty.” She swayed her head slowly from side to +side. “A many things to see and sorrow for.” + </p> + <p> +I half suspected the old people were trying to enhance the spiritual +terrors of their house by their droning insistence. I put down my empty +glass on the table and looked about the room, and caught a glimpse of +myself, abbreviated and broadened to an impossible sturdiness, in the +queer old mirror at the end of the room. “Well,” I said, “if I see +anything to-night, I shall be so much the wiser. For I come to the +business with an open mind.” + </p> + + <p> + “It’s your own choosing,” said the man with the withered arm once more. + </p> + <p> + I heard the faint sound of a stick and a shambling step on the flags in + the passage outside. The door creaked on its hinges as a second old man + entered, more bent, more wrinkled, more aged even than the first. He + supported himself by the help of a crutch, his eyes were covered by a + shade, and his lower lip, half averted, hung pale and pink from his + decaying yellow teeth. He made straight for an armchair on the opposite + side of the table, sat down clumsily, and began to cough. The man with the + withered hand gave the newcomer a short glance of positive dislike; the + old woman took no notice of his arrival, but remained with her eyes fixed + steadily on the fire. + </p> + <p> + “I said—it’s your own choosing,” said the man with the withered + hand, when the coughing had ceased for a while. + </p> + <p> + “It’s my own choosing,” I answered. + </p> + <p> + The man with the shade became aware of my presence for the first time, and + threw his head back for a moment, and sidewise, to see me. I caught a + momentary glimpse of his eyes, small and bright and inflamed. Then he + began to cough and splutter again. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you drink?” said the man with the withered arm, pushing the + beer toward him. The man with the shade poured out a glassful with a + shaking hand, that splashed half as much again on the deal table. A + monstrous shadow of him crouched upon the wall, and mocked his action as + he poured and drank. I must confess I had scarcely expected these + grotesque custodians. There is, to my mind, something inhuman in senility, + something crouching and atavistic; the human qualities seem to drop from + old people insensibly day by day. The three of them made me feel + uncomfortable with their gaunt silences, their bent carriage, their + evident unfriendliness to me and to one another. And that night, perhaps, + I was in the mood for uncomfortable impressions. I resolved to get away + from their vague fore-shadowings of the evil things upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “If,” said I, “you will show me to this haunted room of yours, I will make + myself comfortable there.” + </p> + <p> + The old man with the cough jerked his head back so suddenly that it + startled me, and shot another glance of his red eyes at me from out of the + darkness under the shade, but no one answered me. I waited a minute, + glancing from one to the other. The old woman stared like a dead body, + glaring into the fire with lack-lustre eyes. + </p> + <p> + “If,” I said, a little louder, “if you will show me to this haunted room + of yours, I will relieve you from the task of entertaining me.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s a candle on the slab outside the door,” said the man with the + withered hand, looking at my feet as he addressed me. “But if you go to + the Red Room to-night—” + </p> + <p> + “This night of all nights!” said the old woman, softly. + </p> + <p> + “—You go alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” I answered, shortly, “and which way do I go?” + </p> + <p> + “You go along the passage for a bit,” said he, nodding his head on his + shoulder at the door, “until you come to a spiral staircase; and on the + second landing is a door covered with green baize. Go through that, and + down the long corridor to the end, and the Red Room is on your left up the + steps.” + </p> + <p> + “Have I got that right?” I said, and repeated his directions. + </p> + <p> + He corrected me in one particular. + </p> + <p> + “And you are really going?” said the man with the shade, looking at me + again for the third time with that queer, unnatural tilting of the face. + </p> + <p> + “This night of all nights!” whispered the old woman. + </p> + <p> + “It is what I came for,” I said, and moved toward the door. As I did so, + the old man with the shade rose and staggered round the table, so as to be + closer to the others and to the fire. At the door I turned and looked at + them, and saw they were all close together, dark against the firelight, + staring at me over their shoulders, with an intent expression on their + ancient faces. + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” I said, setting the door open. “It’s your own choosing,” + said the man with the withered arm. + </p> + <p> + I left the door wide open until the candle was well alight, and then I + shut them in, and walked down the chilly, echoing passage. + </p> + <p> + I must confess that the oddness of these three old pensioners in whose + charge her ladyship had left the castle, and the deep-toned, old-fashioned + furniture of the housekeeper’s room, in which they foregathered, had + affected me curiously in spite of my effort to keep myself at a + matter-of-fact phase. They seemed to belong to another age, an older age, + an age when things spiritual were indeed to be feared, when common sense + was uncommon, an age when omens and witches were credible, and ghosts + beyond denying. Their very existence, thought I, is spectral; the cut of + their clothing, fashions born in dead brains; the ornaments and + conveniences in the room about them even are ghostly—the thoughts of + vanished men, which still haunt rather than participate in the world of + to-day. And the passage I was in, long and shadowy, with a film of + moisture glistening on the wall, was as gaunt and cold as a thing that is + dead and rigid. But with an effort I sent such thoughts to the + right-about. The long, drafty subterranean passage was chilly and dusty, + and my candle flared and made the shadows cower and quiver. The echoes + rang up and down the spiral staircase, and a shadow came sweeping up after + me, and another fled before me into the darkness overhead. I came to the + wide landing and stopped there for a moment listening to a rustling that I + fancied I heard creeping behind me, and then, satisfied of the absolute + silence, pushed open the unwilling baize-covered door and stood in the + silent corridor. + </p> + <p> + The effect was scarcely what I expected, for the moonlight, coming in by + the great window on the grand staircase, picked out everything in vivid + black shadow or reticulated silvery illumination. Everything seemed in its + proper position; the house might have been deserted on the yesterday + instead of twelve months ago. There were candles in the sockets of the + sconces, and whatever dust had gathered on the carpets or upon the + polished flooring was distributed so evenly as to be invisible in my + candlelight. A waiting stillness was over everything. I was about to + advance, and stopped abruptly. A bronze group stood upon the landing + hidden from me by a corner of the wall; but its shadow fell with marvelous + distinctness upon the white paneling, and gave me the impression of some + one crouching to waylay me. The thing jumped upon my attention suddenly. I + stood rigid for half a moment, perhaps. Then, with my hand in the pocket + that held the revolver, I advanced, only to discover a Ganymede and Eagle, + glistening in the moonlight. That incident for a time restored my nerve, + and a dim porcelain Chinaman on a buhl table, whose head rocked as I + passed, scarcely startled me. + </p> + <p> + The door of the Red Room and the steps up to it were in a shadowy corner. + I moved my candle from side to side in order to see clearly the nature of + the recess in which I stood, before opening the door. Here it was, thought + I, that my predecessor was found, and the memory of that story gave me a + sudden twinge of apprehension. I glanced over my shoulder at the black + Ganymede in the moonlight, and opened the door of the Red Room rather + hastily, with my face half turned to the pallid silence of the corridor. + </p> + <p> + I entered, closed the door behind me at once, turned the key I found in + the lock within, and stood with the candle held aloft surveying the scene + of my vigil, the great Red Room of Lorraine Castle, in which the young + Duke had died; or rather in which he had begun his dying, for he had + opened the door and fallen headlong down the steps I had just ascended. + That had been the end of his vigil, of his gallant attempt to conquer the + ghostly tradition of the place, and never, I thought, had apoplexy better + served the ends of superstition. There were other and older stories that + clung to the room, back to the half-incredible beginning of it all, the + tale of a timid wife and the tragic end that came to her husband’s jest of + frightening her. And looking round that huge shadowy room with its black + window bays, its recesses and alcoves, its dusty brown-red hangings and + dark gigantic furniture, one could well understand the legends that had + sprouted in its black corners, its germinating darknesses. My candle was a + little tongue of light in the vastness of the chamber; its rays failed to + pierce to the opposite end of the room, and left an ocean of dull red + mystery and suggestion, sentinel shadows and watching darknesses beyond + its island of light. And the stillness of desolation brooded over it all. + </p> + <p> + I must confess some impalpable quality of that ancient room disturbed me. + I tried to fight the feeling down. I resolved to make a systematic + examination of the place, and so, by leaving nothing to the imagination, + dispel the fanciful suggestions of the obscurity before they obtained a + hold upon me. After satisfying myself of the fastening of the door, I + began to walk round the room, peering round each article of furniture, + tucking up the valances of the bed and opening its curtains wide. In one + place there was a distinct echo to my footsteps, the noises I made seemed + so little that they enhanced rather than broke the silence of the place. I + pulled up the blinds and examined the fastenings of the several windows. + Attracted by the fall of a particle of dust, I leaned forward and looked + up the blackness of the wide chimney. Then, trying to preserve my + scientific attitude of mind, I walked round and began tapping the oak + paneling for any secret opening, but I desisted before reaching the + alcove. I saw my face in a mirror—white. + </p> + <p> + There were two big mirrors in the room, each with a pair of sconces + bearing candles, and on the mantelshelf, too, were candles in china + candle-sticks. All these I lit one after the other. The fire was laid—an + unexpected consideration from the old housekeeper—and I lit it, to + keep down any disposition to shiver, and when it was burning well I stood + round with my back to it and regarded the room again. I had pulled up a + chintz-covered armchair and a table to form a kind of barricade before me. + On this lay my revolver, ready to hand. My precise examination had done me + a little good, but I still found the remoter darkness of the place and its + perfect stillness too stimulating for the imagination. The echoing of the + stir and crackling of the fire was no sort of comfort to me. The shadow + in the alcove at the end of the room began to display that undefinable + quality of a presence, that odd suggestion of a lurking living thing that + comes so easily in silence and solitude. And to reassure myself, I walked + with a candle into it and satisfied myself that there was nothing tangible + there. I stood that candle upon the floor of the alcove and left it in + that position. + </p> + <p> + By this time I was in a state of considerable nervous tension, although to + my reason there was no adequate cause for my condition. My mind, however, + was perfectly clear. I postulated quite unreservedly that nothing + supernatural could happen, and to pass the time I began stringing some + rhymes together, Ingoldsby fashion, concerning the original legend of the + place. A few I spoke aloud, but the echoes were not pleasant* For the same + reason I also abandoned, after a time, a conversation with myself upon the + impossibility of ghosts and haunting. My mind reverted to the three old + and distorted people downstairs, and I tried to keep it upon that topic. + </p> + <p> + The sombre reds and grays of the room troubled me; even with its seven + candles the place was merely dim. The light in the alcove flaring in a + draft, and the fire flickering, kept the shadows and penumbra perpetually + shifting and stirring in a noiseless flighty dance. Casting about for a + remedy, I recalled the wax candles I had seen in the corridor, and, with a + slight effort, carrying a candle and leaving the door open, I walked out + into the moonlight, and presently returned with as many as ten. These I + put in the various knick-knacks of china with which the room was sparsely + adorned, and lit and placed them where the shadows had lain deepest, some + on the floor, some in the window recesses, arranging and rearranging them + until at last my seventeen candles were so placed that not an inch of the + room but had the direct light of at least one of them. It occurred to me + that when the ghost came I could warn him not to trip over them. The room + was now quite brightly illuminated. There was something very cheering and + reassuring in these little silent streaming flames, and to notice their + steady diminution of length offered me an occupation and gave me a + reassuring sense of the passage of time. + </p> + <p> + Even with that, however, the brooding expectation of the vigil weighed + heavily enough upon me. I stood watching the minute hand of my watch creep + towards midnight. + </p> + <p> + Then something happened in the alcove. I did not see the candle go out, I + simply turned and saw that the darkness was there, as one might start and + see the unexpected presence of a stranger. The black shadow had sprung + back to its place. “By Jove,” said I aloud, recovering from my surprise, + “that draft’s a strong one;” and taking the matchbox from the table, I + walked across the room in a leisurely manner to relight the corner again. + My first match would not strike, and as I succeeded with the second, + something seemed to blink on the wall before me. I turned my head + involuntarily and saw that the two candles on the little table by the + fireplace were extinguished. I rose at once to my feet. + </p> + <p> + “Odd,” I said. “Did I do that myself in a flash of absent-mindedness?” + </p> + <p> + I walked back, relit one, and as I did so I saw the candle in the right + sconce of one of the mirrors wink and go right out, and almost immediately + its companion followed it. The flames vanished as if the wick had been + suddenly nipped between a finger and thumb, leaving the wick neither + glowing nor smoking, but black. While I stood gaping the candle at the + foot of the bed went out, and the shadows seemed to take another step + toward me. + </p> + <p> + “This won’t do!” said I, and first one and then another candle on the + mantelshelf followed. + </p> + <p> + “What’s up?” I cried, with a queer high note getting into my voice + somehow. At that the candle on the corner of the wardrobe went out, and + the one I had relit in the alcove followed. + </p> + <p> + “Steady on!” I said, “those candles are wanted,” speaking with a + half-hysterical facetiousness, and scratching away at a match the while, + “for the mantel candlesticks.” My hands trembled so much that twice I + missed the rough paper of the matchbox. As the mantel emerged from + darkness again, two candles in the remoter end of the room were eclipsed. + But with the same match I also relit the larger mirror candles, and those + on the floor near the doorway, so that for the moment I seemed to gain on + the extinctions. But then in a noiseless volley there vanished four lights + at once in different corners of the room, and I struck another match in + quivering haste, and stood hesitating whither to take it. + </p> + <p> + As I stood undecided, an invisible hand seemed to sweep out the two + candles on the table. With a cry of terror I dashed at the alcove, then + into the corner and then into the window, relighting three as two more + vanished by the fireplace, and then, perceiving a better way, I dropped + matches on the iron-bound deedbox in the corner, and caught up the bedroom + candlestick. With this I avoided the delay of striking matches, but for + all that the steady process of extinction went on, and the shadows I + feared and fought against returned, and crept in upon me, first a step + gained on this side of me, then on that. I was now almost frantic with the + horror of the coming darkness, and my self-possession deserted me. I + leaped panting from candle to candle in a vain struggle against that + remorseless advance. + </p> + <p> + I bruised myself in the thigh against the table, I sent a chair headlong, + I stumbled and fell and whisked the cloth from the table in my fall. My + candle rolled away from me and I snatched another as I rose. Abruptly this + was blown out as I swung it off the table by the wind of my sudden + movement, and immediately the two remaining candles followed. But there + was light still in the room, a red light, that streamed across the ceiling + and staved off the shadows from me. The fire! Of course I could still + thrust my candle between the bars and relight it. + </p> + <p> + I turned to where the flames were still dancing between the glowing coals + and splashing red reflections upon the furniture; made two steps toward + the grate, and incontinently the flames dwindled and vanished, the glow + vanished, the reflections rushed together and disappeared, and as I thrust + the candle between the bars darkness closed upon me like the shutting of + an eye, wrapped about me in a stifling embrace, sealed my vision, and + crushed the last vestiges of self-possession from my brain. And it was not + only palpable darkness, but intolerable terror. The candle fell from my + hands. I flung out my arms in a vain effort to thrust that ponderous + blackness away from me, and lifting up my voice, screamed with all my + might, once, twice, thrice. Then I think I must have staggered to my feet. + I know I thought suddenly of the moonlit corridor, and with my head bowed + and my arms over my face, made a stumbling run for the door. + </p> + <p> + But I had forgotten the exact position of the door, and I struck myself + heavily against the corner of the bed. I staggered back, turned, and was + either struck or struck myself against some other bulky furnishing. I have + a vague memory of battering myself thus to and fro in the darkness, of a + heavy blow at last upon my forehead, of a horrible sensation of falling + that lasted an age, of my last frantic effort to keep my footing, and then + I remember no more. + </p> + <p> + I opened my eyes in daylight. My head was roughly bandaged, and the man + with the withered hand was watching my face. I looked about me trying to + remember what had happened, and for a space I could not recollect. I + rolled my eyes into the corner and saw the old woman, no longer + abstracted, no longer terrible, pouring out some drops of medicine from a + little blue phial into a glass. “Where am I?” I said. “I seem to remember + you, and yet I can not remember who you are.” + </p> + <p> + They told me then, and I heard of the haunted Red Room as one who hears a + tale. “We found you at dawn,” said he, “and there was blood on your + forehead and lips.” + </p> + <p> + I wondered that I had ever disliked him. The three of them in the daylight + seemed commonplace old folk enough. The man with the green shade had his + head bent as one who sleeps. + </p> + <p> + It was very slowly I recovered the memory of my experience. “You believe + now,” said the old man with the withered hand, “that the room is haunted?” + He spoke no longer as one who greets an intruder, but as one who condoles + with a friend. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said I, “the room is haunted.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have seen it. And we who have been here all our lives have never + set eyes upon it. Because we have never dared. Tell us, is it truly the + old earl who—” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said I, “it is not.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you so,” said the old lady, with the glass in her hand. “It is his + poor young countess who was frightened—” + </p> + <p> + “It is not,” I said. “There is neither ghost of earl nor ghost of countess + in that room; there is no ghost there at all, but worse, far worse, + something impalpable—” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” they said. + </p> + <p> + “The worst of all the things that haunt poor mortal men,” said I; “and + that is, in all its nakedness—‘Fear!’ Fear that will not have light + nor sound, that will not bear with reason, that deafens and darkens and + overwhelms. It followed me through the corridor, it fought against me in + the room—” + </p> + <p> + I stopped abruptly. There was an interval of silence. My hand went up to + my bandages. “The candles went out one after another, and I fled—” + </p> + <p> + Then the man with the shade lifted his face sideways to see me and spoke. + </p> + <p> + “That is it,” said he. “I knew that was it. A Power of Darkness. To put + such a curse upon a home! It lurks there always. You can feel it even in + the daytime, even of a bright summer’s day, in the hangings, in the + curtains, keeping behind you however you face about. In the dusk it creeps + in the corridor and follows you, so that you dare not turn. It is even as + you say. Fear itself is in that room. Black Fear.... And there it will + be... so long as this house of sin endures.” + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Room, by H. G. 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Wells + +Release Date: October 27, 2007 [EBook #23218] +Last Updated: August 23, 2013 + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RED ROOM *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +THE RED ROOM + +By H. G. Wells + + + + +"I can assure you," said I, "that it will take a very tangible ghost to +frighten me." And I stood up before the fire with my glass in my hand. + +"It is your own choosing," said the man with the withered arm, and glanced +at me askance. + +"Eight-and-twenty years," said I, "I have lived, and never a ghost have I +seen as yet." + +The old woman sat staring hard into the fire, her pale eyes wide open. +"Ay," she broke in; "and eight-and-twenty years you have lived and never +seen the likes of this house, I reckon. There's a many things to see, when +one's still but eight-and-twenty." She swayed her head slowly from side to +side. "A many things to see and sorrow for." + +I half suspected the old people were trying to enhance the spiritual +terrors of their house by their droning insistence. I put down my empty +glass on the table and looked about the room, and caught a glimpse of +myself, abbreviated and broadened to an impossible sturdiness, in the +queer old mirror at the end of the room. "Well," I said, "if I see +anything to-night, I shall be so much the wiser. For I come to the +business with an open mind." + +"It's your own choosing," said the man with the withered arm once more. + +I heard the faint sound of a stick and a shambling step on the flags in +the passage outside. The door creaked on its hinges as a second old man +entered, more bent, more wrinkled, more aged even than the first. He +supported himself by the help of a crutch, his eyes were covered by +a shade, and his lower lip, half averted, hung pale and pink from his +decaying yellow teeth. He made straight for an armchair on the opposite +side of the table, sat down clumsily, and began to cough. The man with +the withered hand gave the newcomer a short glance of positive dislike; +the old woman took no notice of his arrival, but remained with her eyes +fixed steadily on the fire. + +"I said--it's your own choosing," said the man with the withered hand, +when the coughing had ceased for a while. + +"It's my own choosing," I answered. + +The man with the shade became aware of my presence for the first time, +and threw his head back for a moment, and sidewise, to see me. I caught +a momentary glimpse of his eyes, small and bright and inflamed. Then he +began to cough and splutter again. + +"Why don't you drink?" said the man with the withered arm, pushing the +beer toward him. The man with the shade poured out a glassful with a +shaking hand, that splashed half as much again on the deal table. A +monstrous shadow of him crouched upon the wall, and mocked his action +as he poured and drank. I must confess I had scarcely expected these +grotesque custodians. There is, to my mind, something inhuman in +senility, something crouching and atavistic; the human qualities seem +to drop from old people insensibly day by day. The three of them made me +feel uncomfortable with their gaunt silences, their bent carriage, +their evident unfriendliness to me and to one another. And that night, +perhaps, I was in the mood for uncomfortable impressions. I resolved to +get away from their vague fore-shadowings of the evil things upstairs. + +"If," said I, "you will show me to this haunted room of yours, I will +make myself comfortable there." + +The old man with the cough jerked his head back so suddenly that it +startled me, and shot another glance of his red eyes at me from out of +the darkness under the shade, but no one answered me. I waited a minute, +glancing from one to the other. The old woman stared like a dead body, +glaring into the fire with lack-lustre eyes. + +"If," I said, a little louder, "if you will show me to this haunted room +of yours, I will relieve you from the task of entertaining me." + +"There's a candle on the slab outside the door," said the man with the +withered hand, looking at my feet as he addressed me. "But if you go to +the Red Room to-night--" + +"This night of all nights!" said the old woman, softly. + +"--You go alone." + +"Very well," I answered, shortly, "and which way do I go?" + +"You go along the passage for a bit," said he, nodding his head on his +shoulder at the door, "until you come to a spiral staircase; and on the +second landing is a door covered with green baize. Go through that, and +down the long corridor to the end, and the Red Room is on your left up +the steps." + +"Have I got that right?" I said, and repeated his directions. + +He corrected me in one particular. + +"And you are really going?" said the man with the shade, looking at me +again for the third time with that queer, unnatural tilting of the face. + +"This night of all nights!" whispered the old woman. + +"It is what I came for," I said, and moved toward the door. As I did so, +the old man with the shade rose and staggered round the table, so as to +be closer to the others and to the fire. At the door I turned and +looked at them, and saw they were all close together, dark against the +firelight, staring at me over their shoulders, with an intent expression +on their ancient faces. + +"Good-night," I said, setting the door open. "It's your own choosing," +said the man with the withered arm. + +I left the door wide open until the candle was well alight, and then I +shut them in, and walked down the chilly, echoing passage. + +I must confess that the oddness of these three old pensioners in +whose charge her ladyship had left the castle, and the deep-toned, +old-fashioned furniture of the housekeeper's room, in which they +foregathered, had affected me curiously in spite of my effort to keep +myself at a matter-of-fact phase. They seemed to belong to another age, +an older age, an age when things spiritual were indeed to be feared, +when common sense was uncommon, an age when omens and witches were +credible, and ghosts beyond denying. Their very existence, thought I, is +spectral; the cut of their clothing, fashions born in dead brains; the +ornaments and conveniences in the room about them even are ghostly--the +thoughts of vanished men, which still haunt rather than participate in +the world of to-day. And the passage I was in, long and shadowy, with +a film of moisture glistening on the wall, was as gaunt and cold as a +thing that is dead and rigid. But with an effort I sent such thoughts +to the right-about. The long, drafty subterranean passage was chilly and +dusty, and my candle flared and made the shadows cower and quiver. The +echoes rang up and down the spiral staircase, and a shadow came sweeping +up after me, and another fled before me into the darkness overhead. I +came to the wide landing and stopped there for a moment listening to a +rustling that I fancied I heard creeping behind me, and then, satisfied +of the absolute silence, pushed open the unwilling baize-covered door +and stood in the silent corridor. + +The effect was scarcely what I expected, for the moonlight, coming in by +the great window on the grand staircase, picked out everything in vivid +black shadow or reticulated silvery illumination. Everything seemed in +its proper position; the house might have been deserted on the yesterday +instead of twelve months ago. There were candles in the sockets of +the sconces, and whatever dust had gathered on the carpets or upon the +polished flooring was distributed so evenly as to be invisible in my +candlelight. A waiting stillness was over everything. I was about to +advance, and stopped abruptly. A bronze group stood upon the landing +hidden from me by a corner of the wall; but its shadow fell with +marvelous distinctness upon the white paneling, and gave me the +impression of some one crouching to waylay me. The thing jumped upon +my attention suddenly. I stood rigid for half a moment, perhaps. Then, +with my hand in the pocket that held the revolver, I advanced, only +to discover a Ganymede and Eagle, glistening in the moonlight. That +incident for a time restored my nerve, and a dim porcelain Chinaman on a +buhl table, whose head rocked as I passed, scarcely startled me. + +The door of the Red Room and the steps up to it were in a shadowy +corner. I moved my candle from side to side in order to see clearly the +nature of the recess in which I stood, before opening the door. Here it +was, thought I, that my predecessor was found, and the memory of +that story gave me a sudden twinge of apprehension. I glanced over my +shoulder at the black Ganymede in the moonlight, and opened the door +of the Red Room rather hastily, with my face half turned to the pallid +silence of the corridor. + +I entered, closed the door behind me at once, turned the key I found +in the lock within, and stood with the candle held aloft surveying the +scene of my vigil, the great Red Room of Lorraine Castle, in which the +young Duke had died; or rather in which he had begun his dying, for +he had opened the door and fallen headlong down the steps I had just +ascended. That had been the end of his vigil, of his gallant attempt to +conquer the ghostly tradition of the place, and never, I thought, had +apoplexy better served the ends of superstition. There were other +and older stories that clung to the room, back to the half-incredible +beginning of it all, the tale of a timid wife and the tragic end that +came to her husband's jest of frightening her. And looking round that +huge shadowy room with its black window bays, its recesses and alcoves, +its dusty brown-red hangings and dark gigantic furniture, one could +well understand the legends that had sprouted in its black corners, its +germinating darknesses. My candle was a little tongue of light in the +vastness of the chamber; its rays failed to pierce to the opposite +end of the room, and left an ocean of dull red mystery and suggestion, +sentinel shadows and watching darknesses beyond its island of light. And +the stillness of desolation brooded over it all. + +I must confess some impalpable quality of that ancient room disturbed +me. I tried to fight the feeling down. I resolved to make a systematic +examination of the place, and so, by leaving nothing to the imagination, +dispel the fanciful suggestions of the obscurity before they obtained +a hold upon me. After satisfying myself of the fastening of the door, I +began to walk round the room, peering round each article of furniture, +tucking up the valances of the bed and opening its curtains wide. In +one place there was a distinct echo to my footsteps, the noises I made +seemed so little that they enhanced rather than broke the silence of the +place. I pulled up the blinds and examined the fastenings of the several +windows. Attracted by the fall of a particle of dust, I leaned forward +and looked up the blackness of the wide chimney. Then, trying to +preserve my scientific attitude of mind, I walked round and began +tapping the oak paneling for any secret opening, but I desisted before +reaching the alcove. I saw my face in a mirror--white. + +There were two big mirrors in the room, each with a pair of sconces +bearing candles, and on the mantelshelf, too, were candles in china +candle-sticks. All these I lit one after the other. The fire was +laid--an unexpected consideration from the old housekeeper--and I lit +it, to keep down any disposition to shiver, and when it was burning +well I stood round with my back to it and regarded the room again. I +had pulled up a chintz-covered armchair and a table to form a kind of +barricade before me. On this lay my revolver, ready to hand. My precise +examination had done me a little good, but I still found the remoter +darkness of the place and its perfect stillness too stimulating for the +imagination. The echoing of the stir and crackling of the fire was no +sort of comfort to me. The shadow in the alcove at the end of the +room began to display that undefinable quality of a presence, that odd +suggestion of a lurking living thing that comes so easily in silence +and solitude. And to reassure myself, I walked with a candle into it +and satisfied myself that there was nothing tangible there. I stood that +candle upon the floor of the alcove and left it in that position. + +By this time I was in a state of considerable nervous tension, although +to my reason there was no adequate cause for my condition. My mind, +however, was perfectly clear. I postulated quite unreservedly that +nothing supernatural could happen, and to pass the time I began +stringing some rhymes together, Ingoldsby fashion, concerning the +original legend of the place. A few I spoke aloud, but the echoes were +not pleasant. For the same reason I also abandoned, after a time, a +conversation with myself upon the impossibility of ghosts and haunting. +My mind reverted to the three old and distorted people downstairs, and I +tried to keep it upon that topic. + +The sombre reds and grays of the room troubled me; even with its seven +candles the place was merely dim. The light in the alcove flaring in +a draft, and the fire flickering, kept the shadows and penumbra +perpetually shifting and stirring in a noiseless flighty dance. Casting +about for a remedy, I recalled the wax candles I had seen in the +corridor, and, with a slight effort, carrying a candle and leaving the +door open, I walked out into the moonlight, and presently returned with +as many as ten. These I put in the various knick-knacks of china with +which the room was sparsely adorned, and lit and placed them where +the shadows had lain deepest, some on the floor, some in the window +recesses, arranging and rearranging them until at last my seventeen +candles were so placed that not an inch of the room but had the direct +light of at least one of them. It occurred to me that when the ghost +came I could warn him not to trip over them. The room was now quite +brightly illuminated. There was something very cheering and reassuring +in these little silent streaming flames, and to notice their steady +diminution of length offered me an occupation and gave me a reassuring +sense of the passage of time. + +Even with that, however, the brooding expectation of the vigil weighed +heavily enough upon me. I stood watching the minute hand of my watch +creep towards midnight. + +Then something happened in the alcove. I did not see the candle go out, +I simply turned and saw that the darkness was there, as one might start +and see the unexpected presence of a stranger. The black shadow had +sprung back to its place. "By Jove," said I aloud, recovering from my +surprise, "that draft's a strong one;" and taking the matchbox from the +table, I walked across the room in a leisurely manner to relight the +corner again. My first match would not strike, and as I succeeded with +the second, something seemed to blink on the wall before me. I turned my +head involuntarily and saw that the two candles on the little table by +the fireplace were extinguished. I rose at once to my feet. + +"Odd," I said. "Did I do that myself in a flash of absent-mindedness?" + +I walked back, relit one, and as I did so I saw the candle in the +right sconce of one of the mirrors wink and go right out, and almost +immediately its companion followed it. The flames vanished as if the +wick had been suddenly nipped between a finger and thumb, leaving the +wick neither glowing nor smoking, but black. While I stood gaping the +candle at the foot of the bed went out, and the shadows seemed to take +another step toward me. + +"This won't do!" said I, and first one and then another candle on the +mantelshelf followed. + +"What's up?" I cried, with a queer high note getting into my voice +somehow. At that the candle on the corner of the wardrobe went out, and +the one I had relit in the alcove followed. + +"Steady on!" I said, "those candles are wanted," speaking with a +half-hysterical facetiousness, and scratching away at a match the +while, "for the mantel candlesticks." My hands trembled so much that +twice I missed the rough paper of the matchbox. As the mantel emerged +from darkness again, two candles in the remoter end of the room were +eclipsed. But with the same match I also relit the larger mirror +candles, and those on the floor near the doorway, so that for the moment +I seemed to gain on the extinctions. But then in a noiseless volley +there vanished four lights at once in different corners of the room, and +I struck another match in quivering haste, and stood hesitating whither +to take it. + +As I stood undecided, an invisible hand seemed to sweep out the two +candles on the table. With a cry of terror I dashed at the alcove, then +into the corner and then into the window, relighting three as two more +vanished by the fireplace, and then, perceiving a better way, I dropped +matches on the iron-bound deedbox in the corner, and caught up the +bedroom candlestick. With this I avoided the delay of striking matches, +but for all that the steady process of extinction went on, and the +shadows I feared and fought against returned, and crept in upon me, +first a step gained on this side of me, then on that. I was now almost +frantic with the horror of the coming darkness, and my self-possession +deserted me. I leaped panting from candle to candle in a vain struggle +against that remorseless advance. + +I bruised myself in the thigh against the table, I sent a chair +headlong, I stumbled and fell and whisked the cloth from the table in +my fall. My candle rolled away from me and I snatched another as I rose. +Abruptly this was blown out as I swung it off the table by the wind of +my sudden movement, and immediately the two remaining candles followed. +But there was light still in the room, a red light, that streamed across +the ceiling and staved off the shadows from me. The fire! Of course I +could still thrust my candle between the bars and relight it. + +I turned to where the flames were still dancing between the glowing +coals and splashing red reflections upon the furniture; made two steps +toward the grate, and incontinently the flames dwindled and vanished, +the glow vanished, the reflections rushed together and disappeared, and +as I thrust the candle between the bars darkness closed upon me like the +shutting of an eye, wrapped about me in a stifling embrace, sealed my +vision, and crushed the last vestiges of self-possession from my brain. +And it was not only palpable darkness, but intolerable terror. The +candle fell from my hands. I flung out my arms in a vain effort to +thrust that ponderous blackness away from me, and lifting up my voice, +screamed with all my might, once, twice, thrice. Then I think I must +have staggered to my feet. I know I thought suddenly of the moonlit +corridor, and with my head bowed and my arms over my face, made a +stumbling run for the door. + +But I had forgotten the exact position of the door, and I struck myself +heavily against the corner of the bed. I staggered back, turned, and was +either struck or struck myself against some other bulky furnishing. I +have a vague memory of battering myself thus to and fro in the darkness, +of a heavy blow at last upon my forehead, of a horrible sensation +of falling that lasted an age, of my last frantic effort to keep my +footing, and then I remember no more. + +I opened my eyes in daylight. My head was roughly bandaged, and the man +with the withered hand was watching my face. I looked about me trying +to remember what had happened, and for a space I could not recollect. +I rolled my eyes into the corner and saw the old woman, no longer +abstracted, no longer terrible, pouring out some drops of medicine +from a little blue phial into a glass. "Where am I?" I said. "I seem to +remember you, and yet I can not remember who you are." + +They told me then, and I heard of the haunted Red Room as one who hears +a tale. "We found you at dawn," said he, "and there was blood on your +forehead and lips." + +I wondered that I had ever disliked him. The three of them in the +daylight seemed commonplace old folk enough. The man with the green +shade had his head bent as one who sleeps. + +It was very slowly I recovered the memory of my experience. "You +believe now," said the old man with the withered hand, "that the room is +haunted?" He spoke no longer as one who greets an intruder, but as one +who condoles with a friend. + +"Yes," said I, "the room is haunted." + +"And you have seen it. And we who have been here all our lives have +never set eyes upon it. Because we have never dared. Tell us, is it +truly the old earl who--" + +"No," said I, "it is not." + +"I told you so," said the old lady, with the glass in her hand. "It is +his poor young countess who was frightened--" + +"It is not," I said. "There is neither ghost of earl nor ghost of +countess in that room; there is no ghost there at all, but worse, far +worse, something impalpable--" + +"Well?" they said. + +"The worst of all the things that haunt poor mortal men," said I; "and +that is, in all its nakedness--'Fear!' Fear that will not have light +nor sound, that will not bear with reason, that deafens and darkens and +overwhelms. It followed me through the corridor, it fought against me in +the room--" + +I stopped abruptly. There was an interval of silence. My hand went up to +my bandages. "The candles went out one after another, and I fled--" + +Then the man with the shade lifted his face sideways to see me and +spoke. + +"That is it," said he. "I knew that was it. A Power of Darkness. To put +such a curse upon a home! It lurks there always. You can feel it even +in the daytime, even of a bright summer's day, in the hangings, in the +curtains, keeping behind you however you face about. In the dusk it +creeps in the corridor and follows you, so that you dare not turn. It is +even as you say. Fear itself is in that room. Black Fear.... And there +it will be... so long as this house of sin endures." + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Red Room, by H. G. 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