The Last Tenant. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold
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garden out of the gate, straight into Lamb's Terrace, and thence across the wretched wastes of ground into more cheerful thoroughfares; and the skeleton cat was by my side the whole of the time.
The evidence of civilized life by which we were now surrounded restored Maria's spirits; she found her tongue.
"Why did you stop on the doorstep, Edward?" she asked.
"I had to lock the street door," I answered.
"We will not take that house, my dear," she said.
"No, we will not take it."
Some unaccustomed note in my voice struck her as strange.
"Is anything the matter with you?" she asked.
"No," I replied, glancing at the cat, "nothing."
"What are you looking at? Why are your eyes wandering so?"
"My dear," I said, with an attempt to speak in a lively tone, and failing dismally, "I must be a bit unstrung, that is all."
She accepted my explanation as satisfactory.
"No wonder," she said; "I would not go through such another trial for all the money in the world."
CHAPTER VII.
I MAKE SOME SINGULAR EXPERIMENTS
For a little while we walked along in silence, and then I asked my wife whether she would ride or walk home.
"I should prefer to walk," she said; "it is early, and the air is fresh and reviving. Things look all the brighter now we are out of that horrible place. A walk will do us good."
I made no demur, though I was curious to see what the skeleton cat would do when we entered an omnibus full of people. It would experience a difficulty in finding a place on the floor of the 'bus, and there would be no room for it to stretch itself comfortably on the seats. I wished to ascertain, also, whether among a number of strangers there would be one to whom it would make itself visible. I peered into the faces of the passers-by with this thought in my mind, but I saw no expression of surprise in them, notwithstanding that the cat seemed to touch their legs in brushing past. Again and again did I turn my eyes away from the apparition; and again and again, looking down at my feet, I beheld it as clearly as if it were an actual living example of its species. Once we got into a crowd and I hoped that I had lost it. No such luck; it evinced no disposition to leave me.
"Edward," said my wife, "I am sure you are not well. I have tired you out with this eternal looking over houses to let. You have been very patient with me" – she pressed my arm affectionately-"and I will try and make it up to you. I know you never really wished to move."
"I never wished it, Maria."
"And you have gone through all this for my sake. I don't like to give up a thing once I have set my mind on it, – you know that of old, my dear, – but the experiences of this morning will last me a lifetime; so I will give this up."
"The idea of moving?" I asked in a dull voice. "You give it up altogether?"
"Yes, altogether. We will remain in our old house."
It is a singular confession to make, but this proclamation of the victory I had gained afforded me no satisfaction. I had no wish to move; my earnest desire was to remain where we were; but with the infernal cat gliding by my side, I could think of nothing but the haunted house in Lamb's Terrace which we had just quitted. In that house was the spectral figure of the girl who, by spiritual means, had opened a door I had locked, and presented herself to me. She was now alone. I had deprived her of a companion who, for aught I knew, might have been a solace to her. It was as if I had been guilty of a crime; as if I had condemned her to solitude. But it was folly to torment myself with such reflections. What had I to do with the incidents of this eventful day? I was a passive instrument, and was being led by unseen hands. More pertinent to ask what was the portent of the apparitions, and why the supernatural visitation was inflicted upon me, although to these questions I could expect no answer. Involuntarily I stooped to assure myself once more that the cat was but a shadow.
"What are you stooping for?" inquired my wife.
"I thought I had dropped my handkerchief."
"It is here, in your pocket." She took it out and handed it to me.
"I was mistaken," I muttered.
She held up her sunshade and hailed a passing hansom, saying energetically, and with a troubled look at me, "We will ride home."
I did not object. I think if she had said "We will fly home," I should have made an attempt to fly, so absolutely was I, for the time, deprived of the power of deciding my own movements. I did not see the cat spring into the cab, but directly we were seated, there it lay crouched in front of us; and when the driver pulled up at our house there it was waiting for the street door to be opened.
"Lie down and rest yourself for an hour," said my wife, with deep concern in her voice.
"No," I replied, "I will smoke a pipe in the garden."
With wifely solicitude she filled my pipe for me, and held a lighted match to the tobacco. I puffed up, thanked her with a look, and went into the garden accompanied by the cat.
In the part of London in which we live there are pleasant gardens attached to many of the houses, and our little plot of ground is by no means to be despised. It is some ninety feet in length, is divided in the center by a broad graveled space, and has a graveled walk all around it; and here when the weather permits, my wife and I frequently sit and enjoy ourselves. I am also the proud possessor of a greenhouse, which, as well as the borders and beds I have laid out, is in summer and autumn generally bright with flowers, of which I am very fond; and into this greenhouse I walked to smoke the green fly, which was doing its worst for my pelargoniums. There are a couple of trees in my garden, and birds' nests in them. The birds were flitting among the branches, and I looked at the cat, wondering whether it would spring after its feathered victims.
It took no notice of them, nor they of it. I remained in the greenhouse ten or twelve minutes, and then it occurred to me to make an experiment. With a swift and sudden motion I left the greenhouse and pulled the door behind me, shutting the cat inside. I walked toward the center of the garden, and the animal I thought I had cunningly imprisoned glided on at my side. Doors shut and locked, and doubtless stone walls, presented no greater obstacle to the creature than the air I breathed.
I sat down on the garden seat and smoked and pondered, and was aroused by a soft purring at my feet, and the contact of a furry body against my legs. I uttered an exclamation, and, looking down, saw our own household cat-a tortoise-shell tabby-rubbing against me. Now, thought I, there will be a fight. But there was nothing of the kind. I felt convinced that the skeleton cat saw our tortoise-shell cat, and presently I was quite as convinced that the flesh and blood reality was unconscious of the presence of the disembodied spirit.
I made another experiment. I went stealthily into the kitchen, and filled a saucer with milk. This saucer I took into the garden and put upon the gravel before the two cats.
"You must be hungry," I said aloud to the spectral figure, with a feeble attempt at jocularity. "Lap up."
It made no movement. With a look of gratitude at me our tabby lapped up the whole of the milk, and licked the saucer dry.
My wife came out and, seeing what I had done, smiled.
"Are you feeling better?" she asked solicitously.
"There is nothing whatever the matter with me," I said, with an unreasonable show of irritation.
She wisely made no reply, and I was once more left alone with my supernatural companion.
Thus passed the day, and I was glad when the hour arrived for Bob Millet to make his appearance. He came punctually and was cordially received by my wife.
"You are in time for tea, Mr. Millet," she said, shaking hands with him. "I want you to feel that you are really welcome here."
"Indeed I do feel so," said Bob, gratified by this reception, which I fancy he hardly expected.
They made a good meal, but though my wife had thoughtfully prepared