Second Sight (17 page)
Authors: Neil M. Gunn
“Beats Stanley in Africa hollow,” said George. “If only he had had the wit to remark out of the darkness, âMr. Smith, I presume?' the thing would have been complete.”
“I think he's uncanny,” said Joyce. “Pfoo!”
“I don't think so,” said Geoffrey.
“Butââ”
“Surely the whole matter”, said Helen, “is quite simple. I bet five bob I'll explain it to anyone's satisfaction in a few words.”
“Done!” said George.
“Angus returned and told Alick the general lie of things.” She tipped off her thumb. “Alick argues that if Geoffrey follows suit, the only real danger is this corrie with its cliff. He decides to go there to intercept him. If he doesn't come this way, it doesn't matter. If he doesâhe'll be stopped on the right side of death. O.K.?” And she tipped off her little finger.
They all gazed at her. It seemed so simple and reasonable.
“Oh, but look here,” said George. “Geoffrey could have gone any way, any point of the compass. Let us be realistic. I am not satisfied.”
“But,” said Harry, “surely Alick was very realistic, for the chances were that Geoffrey would come this way.”
“Now,” said Geoffrey sceptically, “how exactly do you make that out?”
“Because”, said Harry, “you did come this way.”
“Isn't that”, said Geoffrey, “a mere arguing after the event?”
“What else is the scientific determinism to which you pin your faith? Presumably the causal factors that combined to make you come the way you did were stronger than all other factors. Isn't that the idea?”
“I put it to the vote of the meeting,” cried Helen. “Does George owe me five bob or not? I'll have a show of hands, please.”
“I object,” said Geoffrey. He looked hard at Helen. “Have you had access to special information?”
Despite herself, she flushed. “Special information?”
Geoffrey smiled with dry triumph. “It merely isn't supposed to be good sportsmanship to bet on a certainty.”
“Butâbut,” stammered Helen, “I spoke to no one about it.”
“Did anyone speak to you?” Geoffrey asked.
“No.”
“I smell a quibble,” said Marjory.
Geoffrey laughed.
“You are not very good at dissembling, my child,” said her mother. “Tell us about it.”
“I merely overheard a few remarks, from which I saw what happened. I refuse to say any more.”
“Do I owe you five bob?” asked George.
“If you are as mean as that about it, I wouldn't touch your filthy money.”
“Loud and prolonged applause,” cried George. “Hip-hiphooray!”
Voices spoke at once, and Sir John's gaunt face smiled down upon them.
“There's Maclean, I think,” said Lady Marway.
Sir John opened the gun-room door, greeted Maclean, and hoped he had not been kept waiting.
When Sir John returned and asked about the morning, George's voice rose above the others with the suggestion that, Geoffrey being so inconvenienced, he was prepared to take his place, “Do or die!”
“And I'll be your gillie,” cried Joyce. “What a splendid idea!” Immediately she became loud and enthusiastic.
George glanced at Sir John.
“And here, Helenâwhat about you accompanying Harry?” Joyce demanded. “Why not?”
Helen took a moment, then shook her head, smiling.
“But,” said Joyce, “why not? Is it implied that women couldn't stalk as well as men? What's the big idea present?” And she looked round.
“The idea,” said Geoffrey, “is that this is a deer forest, not a sea-side resort.” Then his suppressed laugh came through, more loudly than it had done that night, as if he were beginning to be pleased with himself again.
“What an impertinence!” said Joyce.
“He's merely frightened,” said George, “that I'll bag King Brude. He's afraid of beginner's luck. And I tell him now to his face, that I'll leave no avenue unexplored, no stone unturned, to achieve my ends.”
This dramatic declamation was applauded.
Joyce went up to Sir John. “May I accompany Georgeâfor this one day?”
Sir John smiled to her. “I see no reason why you shouldn't.”
“Helenâare you going to let your sex down?” demanded Joyce.
“I'm afraid so.”
“Dirty dog. As for you, Geoffrey, I think you are a worm.”
Sir John's smile broke into a soft laugh.
This sort of talk went on for quite a time, any uncomfortable suggestion being hilariously drowned, until Joyce said:
“Why surprised? Wasn't she prepared to take money under false pretences?”
“I wasn't, then,” said Helen. “I gave you an explanation which you could not refute. And you wangled yourselves out of it.”
“Really?” said Geoffrey.
“Yes, really,” said Helen.
“I thought you admitted having overheard some remarks, by your local friends, who were privy to what happened?”
“I know what you thought,” said Helen, “but you were wrong.”
“Helen, child!” said her mother.
“Well, they are trying to make out that I was betting on a certainty.”
“And weren't you?” asked Geoffrey.
“Yes,” said Helen.
Loud laughter.
“Only,” said Helen, “it was not
that
certainty.”
The room grew quiet. Joyce scratched her head. “I'm bogged.”
“Hush!” said George. “Dramatic pause.”
“I think it's time,” said Lady Marway sensibly, “that we were all in bed. Especially you, Geoffrey.” She got up.
Geoffrey heaved himself to his feet, staggered, and gripped his side. “Phew, a stitch!” he exclaimed, and sat down. “Nothing at all. No. Please.” After a little time, he got to his feet again. “That's better. Thanks,” he said to George who picked up his staff. He wiped his forehead.
“Let us give you a hand,” offered George.
“Rubbish. Sitting too long in the one position. Or perhaps”, he said, turning his face to Helen, “I was pierced by a premonition of a forthcoming reference to second sight.” His laugh was heard as a bark and he made for the door.
Harry found it difficult to get to sleep. The secret excitement that nothing could intrude upon, that nothing could damp, was still within him, and not only in his mind but running through his blood, in his hands, in his restless legs. I'll never get to sleep! he thought. And though he did fall asleep, he awoke with the same feeling of alertness, and when he was at last shaved and dressed, he stood quite still on the floor of his room, more uncomfortably in the grip of his excitement than ever.
Joyce's voice floated up from below.
He took a deep breath, gripped the stair rail, and, knowing he was behaving with madness, began tiptoeing towards Helen's door.
He arrived, choked with excitement, caught the knob. It made a noise, but his rigid grasp kept turning it. He pushed the door open and stepped into her room.
Helen was sitting up in bed, all eyes. He tried to smile as he approached her. It was a ghastly effort and for a moment he could not speak. Then he whispered, “Will you come to-day?”
He saw her breast heave. She nodded. At once he turned and left the room, drawing the door nearly shut, not closing it, went along the corridor, and ran down the stairs.
Out on the path to the Corr beat, this little incident afforded them considerable amusement.
“What really did you think when you saw me come in?”
“I was beyond thinking.”
They both laughed as they strode side by side at some little distance behind Alick and Donald and the pony.
“I was frightfully nervous,” said Harry. “I'm sure I must have looked an awful ass. I really didn't know what to do. It was on my mindâJoyce having asked youâand I never said a word. It occurred to me once or twice during the night. I wonderedâwhat you thought.”
“IâI really never thought,” said Helen. Then her eyes sparkled. “I'm sorry your conscience was troubled.”
“It wasn't my conscience,” said Harry.
“No?”
“No.”
They laughed.
“Isn't it a divine morning?” cried Helen. “Feel the touch of frost? And the mists, clearing off the tops, look! Do you think there's any place in the world so marvellous on a morning like this?”
“The colours.”
“I know,” Helen nodded. “The blues and purples and high-up greens in a suave washâfor miles. A colour photograph would look like a sentimental fake. Have you noticed that?”
“Yes. Like those postcards, the large coloured views, bought in bookshops in little Highland towns. They look fantastically unreal.”
“And they're not. Extraordinary. Except, of course, that they don't give you the sense of breadth and strength. Thisâthis exhilaration,” said Helen.
“Do you feel it tingling through you?”
“Yes. Do you?”
“Yes.”
They laughed.
“Look at that,” said Harry, as the mists curled away from the throat of Benbeg. “Does look like lace round a throat, doesn't it? Sort of night-dress effect.”
“I think that's a trifle far-fetched.”
“Is it?”
There was silence for a moment; then their eyes met and glanced away.
“You looked pretty well really,” said Harry.
“Did I? When?”
“This morning.”
“Oh. I say, look at the perspective opening up off there. Into infinity. Withdrawing the curtainâto reveal what?”
Harry did not speak.
“I think autumn is the best time, the most lovely time,” Helen prattled on. “It
should
be spring. But there is something in autumn on a morning like this. A spirit moving somewhere. No, not moving; waiting and listening andânear. Do you feel something like that?”
“Yes.”
“Jumps right on the heartâ
quick!
âlike that. And you could do anything; sing orâor cry. Have you felt it like that ever?”
“You're enchanting me again.”
Helen kept her eyes in front. “Harry, don't spoil it.”
“Sorry.”
“Pleaseâplease don't spoil it.” There was a pleading, passionate note in her voice.
“I'm sorry, Helen.”
“Don't be sorryâlike that.”
“All right, Helen, forgive me. I merely have an urge to spoil it. I can't help it.”
“Don't think me unreasonable.”
“I can't think of you at all. I wish I could. I'll be more reliable if we're talking of something else.”
“And that spoils it too.”
“Does it?”
Their eyes met and they all but laughed.
“What did you think of last night?” Helen asked. “I mean about the bet. Did you think I was quibbling badly?”
“No. You were merely making a game of it. It was Geoffrey who tore it.”
“I wasn't quibbling really. Did you wonder afterwards what I meant by saying it was not
that
certainty?”
“To confess the truth, I didn't. I thought about something else.”
“Did you?” She looked round at him.
“Afraid I did.” He smiled enigmatically.
“Oh,” she said, and looked ahead. “I thought you might have wondered. What I meant was that Alick did not work out the factors quite in the way I suggested first. He
saw
the thing happening.”
“You meanâhe had second sight of it?”
“No. Something between. I can't express the state. A certainty so strong that it becomes visualised. I can only vaguely grasp it myself. Butâoh it's no good trying to make sense.”
“That's extremely interesting,” said Harry. “I vaguely follow. Perhaps there are degrees in seeing. Although, wait! Can there really be degrees in seeing? Surely you must either see or you don't?”
“You can imagine you see?”
“Wait, again! You mean there may be different ways of arriving at seeing? That is, you can have an involuntary visionâthe real second sightâlike Alick's; or Alick might have sat there beside Angus, after he had put him to sleep, and by sheer concentration, in a half-dream state, have seen Geoffrey walking?”
“Yes,” said Helen eagerly. “Something like that. Isn't it remarkable how one's mind develops an understanding of that sort of thing? You get a kind of light. And Harry, look!âlook at the light on the water in the burn!⦠Do you know, sometimes I can sit by a burn like that and feel it pour past me and through me. I cannot describe the sensation of intimacy. There is a free fresh loveliness in it, a delight, full of light. And sometimes a cunning delight, full of fun. The bubbles sailing past, and the water, the clear or deep-brown warm and cool water, like velvet. See the bubbles, the little bright bubbles, being kicked up by the heels of something passing over that stone? See how they sparkle? Darlings, aren't they?”
“Of course, Helen, you'll have to be careful that you don'tââ”
Helen laughed outright. “Because I called the bubbles darlings!” Her mirth was delicious. She was so sane, so elusive, oh sweet heaven so attractive! Harry's heart turned over in him.
“Helenâdon't spoil it.”
“Sorry.”
“Don't say you're sorryâlike that.”
“Harry,” said Helen, “I doubt if there's one dancing bubble such a darling as yourself. However, that's by the way. Whatââ”
“I have an awful feeling in me that you'll pay for thisâand pay dearly.”
“I've stopped betting.”
“Humff!”
“Humff.”
Suppressed noises came from her throat.
Harry looked grim.
“I think he's uncanny,” said Joyce. “Pfoo!”
“I don't think so,” said Geoffrey.
“Butââ”
“Surely the whole matter”, said Helen, “is quite simple. I bet five bob I'll explain it to anyone's satisfaction in a few words.”
“Done!” said George.
“Angus returned and told Alick the general lie of things.” She tipped off her thumb. “Alick argues that if Geoffrey follows suit, the only real danger is this corrie with its cliff. He decides to go there to intercept him. If he doesn't come this way, it doesn't matter. If he doesâhe'll be stopped on the right side of death. O.K.?” And she tipped off her little finger.
They all gazed at her. It seemed so simple and reasonable.
“Oh, but look here,” said George. “Geoffrey could have gone any way, any point of the compass. Let us be realistic. I am not satisfied.”
“But,” said Harry, “surely Alick was very realistic, for the chances were that Geoffrey would come this way.”
“Now,” said Geoffrey sceptically, “how exactly do you make that out?”
“Because”, said Harry, “you did come this way.”
“Isn't that”, said Geoffrey, “a mere arguing after the event?”
“What else is the scientific determinism to which you pin your faith? Presumably the causal factors that combined to make you come the way you did were stronger than all other factors. Isn't that the idea?”
“I put it to the vote of the meeting,” cried Helen. “Does George owe me five bob or not? I'll have a show of hands, please.”
“I object,” said Geoffrey. He looked hard at Helen. “Have you had access to special information?”
Despite herself, she flushed. “Special information?”
Geoffrey smiled with dry triumph. “It merely isn't supposed to be good sportsmanship to bet on a certainty.”
“Butâbut,” stammered Helen, “I spoke to no one about it.”
“Did anyone speak to you?” Geoffrey asked.
“No.”
“I smell a quibble,” said Marjory.
Geoffrey laughed.
“You are not very good at dissembling, my child,” said her mother. “Tell us about it.”
“I merely overheard a few remarks, from which I saw what happened. I refuse to say any more.”
“Do I owe you five bob?” asked George.
“If you are as mean as that about it, I wouldn't touch your filthy money.”
“Loud and prolonged applause,” cried George. “Hip-hiphooray!”
Voices spoke at once, and Sir John's gaunt face smiled down upon them.
“There's Maclean, I think,” said Lady Marway.
Sir John opened the gun-room door, greeted Maclean, and hoped he had not been kept waiting.
When Sir John returned and asked about the morning, George's voice rose above the others with the suggestion that, Geoffrey being so inconvenienced, he was prepared to take his place, “Do or die!”
“And I'll be your gillie,” cried Joyce. “What a splendid idea!” Immediately she became loud and enthusiastic.
George glanced at Sir John.
“And here, Helenâwhat about you accompanying Harry?” Joyce demanded. “Why not?”
Helen took a moment, then shook her head, smiling.
“But,” said Joyce, “why not? Is it implied that women couldn't stalk as well as men? What's the big idea present?” And she looked round.
“The idea,” said Geoffrey, “is that this is a deer forest, not a sea-side resort.” Then his suppressed laugh came through, more loudly than it had done that night, as if he were beginning to be pleased with himself again.
“What an impertinence!” said Joyce.
“He's merely frightened,” said George, “that I'll bag King Brude. He's afraid of beginner's luck. And I tell him now to his face, that I'll leave no avenue unexplored, no stone unturned, to achieve my ends.”
This dramatic declamation was applauded.
Joyce went up to Sir John. “May I accompany Georgeâfor this one day?”
Sir John smiled to her. “I see no reason why you shouldn't.”
“Helenâare you going to let your sex down?” demanded Joyce.
“I'm afraid so.”
“Dirty dog. As for you, Geoffrey, I think you are a worm.”
Sir John's smile broke into a soft laugh.
This sort of talk went on for quite a time, any uncomfortable suggestion being hilariously drowned, until Joyce said:
“Why surprised? Wasn't she prepared to take money under false pretences?”
“I wasn't, then,” said Helen. “I gave you an explanation which you could not refute. And you wangled yourselves out of it.”
“Really?” said Geoffrey.
“Yes, really,” said Helen.
“I thought you admitted having overheard some remarks, by your local friends, who were privy to what happened?”
“I know what you thought,” said Helen, “but you were wrong.”
“Helen, child!” said her mother.
“Well, they are trying to make out that I was betting on a certainty.”
“And weren't you?” asked Geoffrey.
“Yes,” said Helen.
Loud laughter.
“Only,” said Helen, “it was not
that
certainty.”
The room grew quiet. Joyce scratched her head. “I'm bogged.”
“Hush!” said George. “Dramatic pause.”
“I think it's time,” said Lady Marway sensibly, “that we were all in bed. Especially you, Geoffrey.” She got up.
Geoffrey heaved himself to his feet, staggered, and gripped his side. “Phew, a stitch!” he exclaimed, and sat down. “Nothing at all. No. Please.” After a little time, he got to his feet again. “That's better. Thanks,” he said to George who picked up his staff. He wiped his forehead.
“Let us give you a hand,” offered George.
“Rubbish. Sitting too long in the one position. Or perhaps”, he said, turning his face to Helen, “I was pierced by a premonition of a forthcoming reference to second sight.” His laugh was heard as a bark and he made for the door.
Harry found it difficult to get to sleep. The secret excitement that nothing could intrude upon, that nothing could damp, was still within him, and not only in his mind but running through his blood, in his hands, in his restless legs. I'll never get to sleep! he thought. And though he did fall asleep, he awoke with the same feeling of alertness, and when he was at last shaved and dressed, he stood quite still on the floor of his room, more uncomfortably in the grip of his excitement than ever.
Joyce's voice floated up from below.
He took a deep breath, gripped the stair rail, and, knowing he was behaving with madness, began tiptoeing towards Helen's door.
He arrived, choked with excitement, caught the knob. It made a noise, but his rigid grasp kept turning it. He pushed the door open and stepped into her room.
Helen was sitting up in bed, all eyes. He tried to smile as he approached her. It was a ghastly effort and for a moment he could not speak. Then he whispered, “Will you come to-day?”
He saw her breast heave. She nodded. At once he turned and left the room, drawing the door nearly shut, not closing it, went along the corridor, and ran down the stairs.
Out on the path to the Corr beat, this little incident afforded them considerable amusement.
“What really did you think when you saw me come in?”
“I was beyond thinking.”
They both laughed as they strode side by side at some little distance behind Alick and Donald and the pony.
“I was frightfully nervous,” said Harry. “I'm sure I must have looked an awful ass. I really didn't know what to do. It was on my mindâJoyce having asked youâand I never said a word. It occurred to me once or twice during the night. I wonderedâwhat you thought.”
“IâI really never thought,” said Helen. Then her eyes sparkled. “I'm sorry your conscience was troubled.”
“It wasn't my conscience,” said Harry.
“No?”
“No.”
They laughed.
“Isn't it a divine morning?” cried Helen. “Feel the touch of frost? And the mists, clearing off the tops, look! Do you think there's any place in the world so marvellous on a morning like this?”
“The colours.”
“I know,” Helen nodded. “The blues and purples and high-up greens in a suave washâfor miles. A colour photograph would look like a sentimental fake. Have you noticed that?”
“Yes. Like those postcards, the large coloured views, bought in bookshops in little Highland towns. They look fantastically unreal.”
“And they're not. Extraordinary. Except, of course, that they don't give you the sense of breadth and strength. Thisâthis exhilaration,” said Helen.
“Do you feel it tingling through you?”
“Yes. Do you?”
“Yes.”
They laughed.
“Look at that,” said Harry, as the mists curled away from the throat of Benbeg. “Does look like lace round a throat, doesn't it? Sort of night-dress effect.”
“I think that's a trifle far-fetched.”
“Is it?”
There was silence for a moment; then their eyes met and glanced away.
“You looked pretty well really,” said Harry.
“Did I? When?”
“This morning.”
“Oh. I say, look at the perspective opening up off there. Into infinity. Withdrawing the curtainâto reveal what?”
Harry did not speak.
“I think autumn is the best time, the most lovely time,” Helen prattled on. “It
should
be spring. But there is something in autumn on a morning like this. A spirit moving somewhere. No, not moving; waiting and listening andânear. Do you feel something like that?”
“Yes.”
“Jumps right on the heartâ
quick!
âlike that. And you could do anything; sing orâor cry. Have you felt it like that ever?”
“You're enchanting me again.”
Helen kept her eyes in front. “Harry, don't spoil it.”
“Sorry.”
“Pleaseâplease don't spoil it.” There was a pleading, passionate note in her voice.
“I'm sorry, Helen.”
“Don't be sorryâlike that.”
“All right, Helen, forgive me. I merely have an urge to spoil it. I can't help it.”
“Don't think me unreasonable.”
“I can't think of you at all. I wish I could. I'll be more reliable if we're talking of something else.”
“And that spoils it too.”
“Does it?”
Their eyes met and they all but laughed.
“What did you think of last night?” Helen asked. “I mean about the bet. Did you think I was quibbling badly?”
“No. You were merely making a game of it. It was Geoffrey who tore it.”
“I wasn't quibbling really. Did you wonder afterwards what I meant by saying it was not
that
certainty?”
“To confess the truth, I didn't. I thought about something else.”
“Did you?” She looked round at him.
“Afraid I did.” He smiled enigmatically.
“Oh,” she said, and looked ahead. “I thought you might have wondered. What I meant was that Alick did not work out the factors quite in the way I suggested first. He
saw
the thing happening.”
“You meanâhe had second sight of it?”
“No. Something between. I can't express the state. A certainty so strong that it becomes visualised. I can only vaguely grasp it myself. Butâoh it's no good trying to make sense.”
“That's extremely interesting,” said Harry. “I vaguely follow. Perhaps there are degrees in seeing. Although, wait! Can there really be degrees in seeing? Surely you must either see or you don't?”
“You can imagine you see?”
“Wait, again! You mean there may be different ways of arriving at seeing? That is, you can have an involuntary visionâthe real second sightâlike Alick's; or Alick might have sat there beside Angus, after he had put him to sleep, and by sheer concentration, in a half-dream state, have seen Geoffrey walking?”
“Yes,” said Helen eagerly. “Something like that. Isn't it remarkable how one's mind develops an understanding of that sort of thing? You get a kind of light. And Harry, look!âlook at the light on the water in the burn!⦠Do you know, sometimes I can sit by a burn like that and feel it pour past me and through me. I cannot describe the sensation of intimacy. There is a free fresh loveliness in it, a delight, full of light. And sometimes a cunning delight, full of fun. The bubbles sailing past, and the water, the clear or deep-brown warm and cool water, like velvet. See the bubbles, the little bright bubbles, being kicked up by the heels of something passing over that stone? See how they sparkle? Darlings, aren't they?”
“Of course, Helen, you'll have to be careful that you don'tââ”
Helen laughed outright. “Because I called the bubbles darlings!” Her mirth was delicious. She was so sane, so elusive, oh sweet heaven so attractive! Harry's heart turned over in him.
“Helenâdon't spoil it.”
“Sorry.”
“Don't say you're sorryâlike that.”
“Harry,” said Helen, “I doubt if there's one dancing bubble such a darling as yourself. However, that's by the way. Whatââ”
“I have an awful feeling in me that you'll pay for thisâand pay dearly.”
“I've stopped betting.”
“Humff!”
“Humff.”
Suppressed noises came from her throat.
Harry looked grim.
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