The Perfume of Egypt | Page 9

mysterious
visitor once more? I could not tell, but at any rate the smell in the room
was an undoubted fact. I went and tried the door, but, as I expected,
found it as I left it fast locked. I stirred up my fire into a bright blaze,
threw fresh coals on it, and went to bed again -- this time to sleep
soundly and refreshingly till I was awakened in the morning by the
servant bringing hot water.
Reviewing my last night's adventure in the sober light of day, I was
disposed to think that something of it at least might be due to
overheated imagination, though I still fancied I could detect that faint
peculiarity of atmosphere. I decided to say nothing to Fernleigh, since
to speak of it would involve describing the apparition in my chambers,
which I shrank from discussing with any one; so when Jack asked me
how I had slept, I replied:
"Very well indeed towards morning, though a little restless in the
earlier part of the night."
After breakfast we walked about the park, which was very extensive,
and studied the stately old house from different points of view. I was
much struck with the great beauty of its situation and surroundings; and,
though there were sad traces of neglect everywhere, I saw that the
expenditure of what was comparatively but a small amount of money
for so large a place would make it fully worthy to rank with any
mansion and estate of its size in the kingdom. I enthusiastically pointed
out the various possibilities to Jack, but he, poor fellow, sorrowfully
remarked that the sum required to make the improvements, though no

doubt comparatively small, was absolutely pretty large, and far beyond
his present means.
After some hour's ramble we returned to the house, and Jack proposed
that we should look over the picture-gallery and some other rooms that
we had not seen on the previous night. We took the gallery first, and
Jack told me that it had once contained many almost priceless gems of
the old Flemish and Italian masters; but his dissolute uncle had sold
most of them, often at merely nominal prices, to raise money for his
riotous life in town, so that what were left were, generally speaking,
comparatively valueless. There was the usual collection of ancestral
portraits -- some life-like and carefully executed, others mere daubs;
and we were passing them over with scant interest, when my eye was
caught by one which instantly riveted my attention and sent a cold thrill
down my spine, bright midday though it was; for there, out of the
canvas, looked the very face I had seen so vividly in my dream last
night -- the face of the mysterious visitant at my chambers in London!
The commanding look of iron will and dauntless courage was there,
and the same indefinable air of latent passion and cruelty; there too,
though tenderly treated by the artist and made less prominent than it
was in reality, was the curious white scar running down from the lower
lip. Except that he was here dressed in rich court costume instead of the
plain black robe, nothing but the pleading look of appeal was wanting
to make the resemblance exact. I suppose something of the emotion I
felt showed itself in my face, for Jack seized me by the arm, crying:
"Bless me, Tom, what is the matter? Are you ill? Why are you glaring
at the portrait of Sir Ralph in that awful manner?"
"Sir Ralph? Yes, the wicked Sir Ralph. I know him. He came into my
room last night. I've seen him twice."
Muttering these disjointed sentences, I staggered to an ottoman and
tried to collect my scattered senses. For the whole truth had flashed
upon me, and it was almost too much for me. Of course it has occurred
to the intelligent reader long ago, but until this moment absolutely no
suspicion had ever crossed my mind that Sir Ralph and my spectral

visitor in London were identical; now I saw it all. The word
commencing with "Ra? that he had tried so hard to write was his own
name; he had somehow (heaven alone knows how) foreseen that I
should visit Fernleigh, and so had tried to make an impression on my
mind -- introduce himself to me, as it were -- beforehand. I was now
obliged to tell Jack the whole story, and was relieved to find that
instead of laughing at me, as I more than half expected, he was deeply
interested.
"I never believed in a ghost before," he said, "but here there seems no
room for doubt. A perfect stranger shows himself to you in London,
you recognise his portrait at once on sight down here at