"Then you think it would be no harm going to see her?"
"Roger, my boy," said the vicar, "the world in which we live is full of mystery, full of shadows. We cannot understand the occult forces that everywhere exist, we cannot read the mystic writing which is everywhere appearing on the lives of men. Before I went to college I was a firm believer in many things which I have since discredited. Once I believed in supernatural events, but since I have seen what can be produced by purely natural and explainable means, I have begun to doubt, and yet I cannot deny some things which the most superstitious and ignorant believe."
"Then what would you advise?"
"I would go and see this old woman; perhaps she knows things, not by any supernatural means, but by keeping her eyes open."
"But if she should possess evil power, Mr. Polperrow?"
"Read your Bible and say your prayers before you go, and in your heart defy all that's wrong."
I went away from the vicarage with a strange feeling that my life was surrounded by mystery, and that unseen forces were hemming me in.
What are we, after all, but the creatures of circumstance? Forces over which we have no control make us what we are. I was born the elder son and Wilfred the younger. I was born with a strong, healthy body, and an impulsive, passionate nature. Wilfred was more delicate, more thoughtful. What had we to do with the choosing of all this? Could I help doing the things that I did? Could I resist the life-forces which moved me, even as a mighty wave moves a ship that sails thereupon? Are we, then, the architects of our own fate, or is our destiny fixed? Is it man who moulds the circumstances, or circumstances that mould the man? Who shall answer these questions? Looking back over my life I cannot, and yet in some way I am conscious that there has been a beneficent hand helping me, and making me strong, even stronger than circumstances.
As I went home I thought the moon became dimmer, while sad, moaning sounds were mixed with the musical splash of the waters, as they played upon the hard sea sand. I slept well that night. No thought of the figure in white haunted my pillow, no thought of my visit to the village witch hindered my sleep. I was young, I was innocent, my blood coursed joyfully through my veins, and the future looked bright, and so I feared not.
The next day the sky was overcast. The sea looked smooth as glass, save that now and then it gave a mighty heave, as if some terrific monster beneath sought to lift a weight from his tired shoulders. Sometimes we heard a moan sweeping across the waters; but we were familiar with the sound, living as we did close to the broad Atlantic.