When I left the lighted station yard I
realized that the evening had fallen very dark, and the shade of
the tall lank trees intensified the gloom. I could hardly see my
way, and went timidly, with frequent stumbles over the uneven
stones of the road. The lamps were dim, few, and widely
separated; so far as company was concerned, I might have been a
thousand miles from an inhabited house. In spite of myself, the
thought of danger persistently assailed my mind. I began to
review every circumstance of my journey, twisting the trivial
into some ominous shape, magnifying the significance of
everything which might justly seem suspicious, studying in the
light of my new apprehensions every expression of Bauer's face
and every word that had fallen from his lips. I could not
persuade myself into security. I carried the queen's letter,
and--well, I would have given much to have old Sapt or Rudolf
Rassendyll by my side.
Now, when a man suspects danger, let him not spend his time in
asking whether there be really danger or in upbraiding himself
for timidity, but let him face his cowardice, and act as though
the danger were real. If I had followed that rule and kept my
eyes about me, scanning the sides of the road and the ground in
front of my feet, instead of losing myself in a maze of
reflection, I might have had time to avoid the trap, or at least
to get my hand to my revolver and make a fight for it; or,
indeed, in the last resort, to destroy what I carried before harm
came to it.
Pages:
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47