He stopped with a tone of sharp interrogation and looked squarely into my face.
“There are undoubtedly many of them,” said I.
“The lines of monomania all lead to madness,” he continued. “The deeper one plunges into the mysteries of life the nearer he approaches it. But, mark you, one man may venture further than another. For years I have lived in fear of two things—madness and death. Not on my account, but I had Rayel to think of.”
My uncle rose to his feet before he had ceased speaking and walked stealthily on his tiptoes to an open door, where he stood for a moment listening. I could hear nothing but the sound of the wind whistling in the chimney.
“Wait here,” he whispered presently, and then disappeared through the door, closing it after him. I held my watch down to the firelight and saw it was near eleven o'clock. I felt drowsy, and had almost fallen asleep, when my uncle returned, carrying a lantern. “Rayel is asleep,” said he, in a whisper. “Won't you come with me?—it will not take long.”
“Certainly,” said I, rising, and waiting for him to lead the way. He put on his antique hat and threw a shawl over his shoulders.
“It's a chilly night,” said he. “You'd better wear another coat.”
I drew on my overcoat at once, wondering what new experience awaited me. Holding the lantern in front of him, he proceeded slowly and feebly across the rear courtyard, and unlocked a door in one of the side wings of the house, through which we passed into a large unfurnished room.
“I always wait till he's asleep,” said my uncle, shuffling across the room and unlocking another door on its opposite side. “He's never been here—never yet,” he continued, pulling the door open. The dim light of the lantern shone out upon a thicket of fragrant spruce and cedar. As I stepped down upon the ground, following in the steps of my uncle, I could hear the murmur of the great pines towering far above our heads. Slowly we made our way through the dense undergrowth, and soon entered an open space carpeted with pine needles and moss. It was a circular plot in the thicket, and out of its centre rose an immense pine, whose upper branches wholly obscured the sky. My uncle hung his lantern on a knot protruding from the trunk of the tree, and slowly knelt upon the ground, covering his face with his hands. Suddenly he beckoned to me, and I knelt down beside him.
“Listen!” said he. “Do you hear voices? She comes to me here. Can you see her—my wife? Look about you, do you not see her?”