The Luck of the Vails: A Novel

by E. F. Benson

"He is much better, ever so much better, Sanders thinks," he said. "He was sleeping, but when he wakes he will be told I have come."

"Ah! that is good," said the doctor. "Did Sanders tell you about the attack?"

"Yes, it came on while he was dressing this morning. Luckily, Sanders was with him; but for an hour, he tells me, he thought that every breath might be his last. He's a trump, that man, and there's a head on his shoulders too. He has hardly left him for five minutes."

"Will Sanders sleep in his room to-night?" asked the doctor.

"Yes, he has his meals brought to him there too, so that it will be easy for you not to be seen by him, since you make such a point of it. Oh, thank God, he is so much better! Ah, look! we are going to have one of those curious low mists to-night."

The doctor followed Harry to one of the windows which Templeton had left unshuttered, and looked out.

The autumn twilight was fast closing in, and after the hot sun of the day, the mist, in the sudden coolness of its withdrawal, was forming very thickly and rapidly over the lake. There was a little draught of wind toward the house, not sufficient to disperse it, but only to slide it gently, like a sheet, over the lawns. It lay very low, in thickness not perhaps exceeding five feet over the higher stretches of the lawn, but as the surface of it was level, it must have been some few feet thicker where the ground declined toward the lake. It appeared to be of extraordinary density, and spread very swiftly and steadily, so that even while they watched, it had pushed on till, like flood water, it struck the wall of the house, and presently lawn and lake were both entirely vanished, and they looked out, as from a mountain-top, over a level sea of cloud, pricked here and there by plantations and the higher shrubs. Above, the night was clear, and a young moon rode high in a heaven that silently filled with stars.

Geoffrey, meantime, had followed two hours behind them; his train was punctual, and it was only a little after seven when he found himself, having walked from the station, at the edge of the woods, looking down on to this same curious sea of mist. The monstrous birds of the box hedge stood out upon it, like great aquatic creatures swimming there, for the hedge itself was submerged, and the descent into it was like a plunge into a bath. Not wishing to risk being seen from the house, he made a wide circuit round it toward the lake. Here the mist rose above his head, baffling and blinding; but striking the edge of the lake, he followed it, guided as much by the sobbing of the ripples against the bank as by the vague muffled outline, till he reached the inlet of the stream which fed it. From this point the ground rose rapidly, and in a few minutes he could look over the mist again and see the house already twinkling with scattered lights, moored like some great ship in that white sea. A few hundred yards more brought him to the stables, and, conveniently for his purpose, at the gate stood Jim and a helper, their work over, smoking and chatting. Geoffrey approached till it was certain they could see who he was.

"Is that you, Jim?" he said. "They want you at the house."

Jim knocked out his pipe and followed. His clothes had "evening out" stamped upon them, and there seemed to be an unpleasing curtailment of his liberty in prospect.