The Flight of the Shadow

The Flight of the Shadow

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Flight of the Shadow, by George MacDonald #34 in our series by George MacDonald
Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.
This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the header without written permission.
Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is important information about your specific rights and restrictions in how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
Title: The Flight of the Shadow
Author: George MacDonald
Release Date: September, 2005 [EBook #8902] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on August 22, 2003]
Edition: 10
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLIGHT OF THE SHADOW ***

Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Mary Meehan and Distributed Proofreaders

THE FLIGHT OF THE SHADOW
By George MacDonald

CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I
. MRS. DAY BEGINS THE STORY
CHAPTER II
. MISS MARTHA MOON
CHAPTER III
. MY UNCLE
CHAPTER IV
. MY UNCLE'S ROOM, AND MY UNCLE IN IT
CHAPTER V
. MY FIRST SECRET
CHAPTER VI
. I LOSE MYSELF
CHAPTER VII
. THE MIRROR
CHAPTER VIII
. THANATOS AND ZOE
CHAPTER IX
. THE GARDEN
CHAPTER X
. ONCE MORE A SECRET
CHAPTER XI
. THE MOLE BURROWS
CHAPTER XII
. A LETTER
CHAPTER XIII
. OLD LOVE AND NEW
CHAPTER XIV
. MOTHER AND UNCLE
CHAPTER XV
. THE TIME BETWEEN
CHAPTER XVI
. FAULT AND NO FAULT
CHAPTER XVII
. THE SUMMONS
CHAPTER XVIII
. JOHN SEES SOMETHING
CHAPTER XIX
. JOHN IS TAKEN ILL
CHAPTER XX
. A STRANGE VISIT
CHAPTER XXI
. A FOILED ATTEMPT
CHAPTER XXII
. JOHN RECALLS AND REMEMBERS
CHAPTER XXIII
. LETTER AND ANSWER
CHAPTER XXIV
. HAND TO HAND
CHAPTER XXV
. A VERY STRANGE THING
CHAPTER XXVI
. THE EVIL DRAWS NIGHER
CHAPTER XXVII
. AN ENCOUNTER
CHAPTER XXVIII
. ANOTHER VISION
CHAPTER XXIX
. MOTHER AND SON
CHAPTER XXX
. ONCE MORE, AND YET AGAIN
CHAPTER XXXI
. MY UNCLE COMES HOME
CHAPTER XXXII
. TWICE TWO IS ONE
CHAPTER XXXIII
. HALF ONE IS ONE
CHAPTER XXXIV
. THE STORY OF MY TWIN UNCLES
CHAPTER XXXV
. UNCLE EDMUND'S APPENDIX
CHAPTER XXXVI
. THE END OF THE FIRST VOLUME

THE FLIGHT OF THE SHADOW.

CHAPTER I
.
MRS. DAY BEGINS THE STORY.
I am old, else, I think, I should not have the courage to tell the story I am going to tell. All those concerned in it about whose feelings I am careful, are gone where, thank God, there are no secrets! If they know what I am doing, I know they do not mind. If they were alive to read as I record, they might perhaps now and again look a little paler and wish the leaf turned, but to see the things set down would not make them unhappy: they do not love secrecy. Half the misery in the world comes from trying to look, instead of trying to be, what one is not. I would that not God only but all good men and women might see me through and through. They would not be pleased with everything they saw, but then neither am I, and I would have no coals of fire in my soul's pockets! But my very nature would shudder at the thought of letting one person that loved a secret see into it. Such a one never sees things as they are--would not indeed see what was there, but something shaped and coloured after his own likeness. No one who loves and chooses a secret can be of the pure in heart that shall see God.
Yet how shall I tell even who I am? Which of us is other than a secret to all but God! Which of us can tell, with poorest approximation, what he or she is! Not to touch the mystery of life--that one who is not myself has made me able to say _I_, how little can any of us tell about even those ancestors whose names we know, while yet the nature, and still more the character, of hundreds of them, have shared in determining what I means every time one of us utters the word! For myself, I remember neither father nor mother, nor one of their fathers or mothers: how little then can I say as to what I am! But I will tell as much as most of my readers, if ever I have any, will care to know.
I come of a long yeoman-line of the name of Whichcote. In Scotland the Whichcotes would have been called _lairds_; in England they were not called squires. Repeatedly had younger sons of it risen to rank and honour, and in several generations would his property