The Ghost

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The Ghost, by Arnold Bennett

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Title: The Ghost A Modern Fantasy
Author: Arnold Bennett
Release Date: November 28, 2005 [EBook #17176]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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THE GHOST
A Modern Fantasy

BY
ARNOLD BENNETT
AUTHOR OF "THE OLD WIVES' TALES," "CLAYHANGER," ETC., ETC.

BOSTON SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY 1911
Copyright, 1907 By HERBERT B. TURNER & CO.
Copyright, 1911
BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY (INCORPORATED)

CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I.
MY SPLENDID COUSIN
II. AT THE OPERA
III. THE CRY OF ALRESCA
IV. ROSA'S SUMMONS
V. THE DAGGER AND THE MAN
VI. ALRESCA'S FATE
VII. THE VIGIL BY THE BIER
VIII. THE MESSAGE
IX. THE TRAIN
X. THE STEAMER
XI. A CHAT WITH ROSA
XII. EGG-AND-MILK
XIII. THE PORTRAIT
XIV. THE VILLA
XV. THE SHEATH OF THE DAGGER
XVI. THE THING IN THE CHAIR
XVII. THE MENACE
XVIII. THE STRUGGLE
XIX. THE INTERCESSION

THE GHOST
CHAPTER I
MY SPLENDID COUSIN
I am eight years older now. It had never occurred to me that I am advancing in life and experience until, in setting myself to recall the various details of the affair, I suddenly remembered my timid confusion before the haughty mien of the clerk at Keith Prowse's.
I had asked him:
"Have you any amphitheatre seats for the Opera to-night?"
He did not reply. He merely put his lips together and waved his hand slowly from side to side.
Not perceiving, in my simplicity, that he was thus expressing a sublime pity for the ignorance which my demand implied, I innocently proceeded:
"Nor balcony?"
This time he condescended to speak.
"Noth--ing, sir."
Then I understood that what he meant was: "Poor fool! why don't you ask for the moon?"
I blushed. Yes, I blushed before the clerk at Keith Prowse's, and turned to leave the shop. I suppose he thought that as a Christian it was his duty to enlighten my pitiable darkness.
"It's the first Rosa night to-night," he said with august affability. "I had a couple of stalls this morning, but I've just sold them over the telephone for six pound ten."
He smiled. His smile crushed me. I know better now. I know that clerks in box-offices, with their correct neckties and their air of continually doing wonders over the telephone, are not, after all, the grand masters of the operatic world. I know that that manner of theirs is merely a part of their attire, like their cravats; that they are not really responsible for the popularity of great sopranos; and that they probably go home at nights to Fulham by the white omnibus, or to Hammersmith by the red one--and not in broughams.
"I see," I observed, carrying my crushed remains out into the street. Impossible to conceal the fact that I had recently arrived from Edinburgh as raw as a ploughboy!
If you had seen me standing irresolute on the pavement, tapping my stick of Irish bog-oak idly against the curbstone, you would have seen a slim youth, rather nattily dressed (I think), with a shadow of brown on his upper lip, and a curl escaping from under his hat, and the hat just a little towards the back of his head, and a pretty good chin, and the pride of life in his ingenuous eye. Quite unaware that he was immature! Quite unaware that the supple curves of his limbs had an almost feminine grace that made older fellows feel paternal! Quite unaware that he had everything to learn, and that all his troubles lay before him! Actually fancying himself a man because he had just taken his medical degree....
The June sun shone gently radiant in a blue sky, and above the roofs milky-bosomed clouds were floating in a light wind. The town was bright, fresh, alert, as London can be during the season, and the joyousness of the busy streets echoed the joyousness of my heart (for I had already, with the elasticity of my years, recovered from the reverse inflicted on me by Keith Prowse's clerk). On the opposite side of the street were the rich premises of a well-known theatrical club, whose weekly entertainments had recently acquired fame. I was, I recollect, proud of knowing the identity of the building--it was one of the few things I did know in London--and I was observing with interest the wondrous livery of the two menials motionless behind the glass of its portals, when a tandem equipage drew up in front of the pile, and the menials darted out, in their white gloves, to prove that they were alive and to justify their existence.
It was an amazingly complete turnout, and it well deserved all the attention it attracted, which was considerable.