In the Valley of the Shadow by Bram Stoker (read aloud .TXT) 📕

carried to an easy-chair before the fire, and a

screen put behind me.

 

“You can’t get a train, sir, before half-past six.”

 

“Excuse me, there is a train at 5.55, and I am going to get

it. By the way, are you sure Sister is not about? I thought I

saw her round the corner of the screen. No? Then give me some

soda and milk, and have you a cigarette anywhere?”

 

Russell naturally denied having cigarettes, whereupon, as

he afterwards told me, I proceeded to curse him, his family,

antecedents, and descendants together, with such copiousness

and minuteness of diction that I spoke without stopping for an

hour and a half! I fancy Mr Kipling is responsible for at least

the Indian meticulosity of my comminations. Anyhow, the effort

having exhausted me, on Russell saying that I had now missed

the train, and had better go back to bed to wait for the next,

I sensibly agreed.

 

That was the climax, and on awaking some hours later from a

peaceful sleep I found that the crisis was past, and that I

was as sane again as usual. The first book I asked for was the

Pilgrim’s Progress, and as soon as I was permitted to read I

turned to the account of Christian’s passage through the Valley

of the Shadow. I had felt before that Bunyan’s demons were stage

demons, his quagmires and pits merely simulacra, the accessories

generally such as Drury Lane would laugh to scorn. Now I am sure

of it. The real difficulty, of course, is to do it better.