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Page 44
A few days before Thor Helwyse's departure for Europe (some four years
after his wife's death) he had left a certain little boy and girl in
charge of the nurse,--a woman in whose faithfulness he placed the
utmost confidence,--and had crossed from Brooklyn to New Jersey, to
say good by to Brother Hiero. Returning at night he found one of the
children--his son Balder--locked up in the nursery; the nurse and the
little girl had disappeared, nor did Thor again set eyes on either of
them.
Balder, as he grew up, often questioned his father concerning various
events which had happened beyond the reach of his childish memory; and
among other stories, no doubt this of the farewell visit to Uncle
Glyphic had been often told with all the details. By no miracle,
therefore, but simply by an acute mental process, associating together
time, place, and description, was Balder enabled so to dumfounder old
Charon.
Embarking on a phantom quest, his brain full of whimsical visions,
Balder had thus unexpectedly stepped into the path of his legitimate
affair. The accident (for no better reason than that it was such)
inspired him with a superficial cheerfulness. He had landed some
distance below his uncle Glyphic's house,--for such indeed it
was,--and he now took his way towards it through trees and underbrush.
It was so situated, and so thickly surrounded with foliage, as to be
visible from no point in the vicinity. Had the site been chosen with a
view to concealment, the builder could not have succeeded better.
Remembering the eccentricity of his uncle's character, as portrayed in
many an anecdote, Balder would not have been surprised to find him
living under ground, or in a pyramid.
On arriving at the wall whereof the ferryman had told him, he found it
a truly formidable affair, some twelve feet high and built of brick.
To scale it without a ladder was impossible; but Balder, never
doubting that there was a gate somewhere, set out in search of it.
It was tiresome walking over the uneven ground and through obstructing
bushes, branches, and stumps. The tall brick barrier seemed as
interminable as unbroken. How many houses, thought Balder, might have
been built from the material thus wasted! If ever he came into
possession of the place, he resolved to present the brick to his
friend Charon, that he might replace his wooden shanty with something
more durable and convenient, and perhaps build a dock for the schooner
"Resurrection" to lie in. It must have taken a fortune to put up such
a wall; were the enclosure proportionally valuable, it was worth while
crossing the ocean to see it. Still more wall! fully a mile of it
already, and yet further it rambled on through leafy thickets. But no
signs of a gate!
"I believe the Devil really does live here!" exclaimed Balder, in
impatient heat; "and the only way in or out is on a broomstick,--or by
diving under ground, as Charon said!"
Stumbling onwards awhile farther, he suddenly came again upon the
river-bank, having skirted the whole length of the wall. There was
actually no getting in! The castle was impregnable.
Helwyse sat down at the foot of a birch-tree which grew a few yards
from the wall.
"How does my uncle manage about his butcher and baker, I wonder! He
might at least have provided a derrick for victualling his stronghold.
Perhaps he hauls up provisions by ropes over the face of the cliff. No
doubt, Charon knew about it. Shall I go down and look?"
It was provoking--having come so far to call on a relative--to be put
off with a mile or two of brick wall. The gate must have been walled
up since his father's time, for Thor had never mentioned any
deficiency in that respect. But Balder's determination was
piqued,--not to mention his curiosity. Had the path from Mr.
MacGentle's office to Doctor Glyphic's door been straight and
unobstructed, the young man might have wandered aside and never
reached the end. As it was, he was goaded into the resolution to see
his uncle at all hazards. An additional spur was the thought of the
gracious apparition which he had seen--or dreamt he saw--from the
farther bank. Was she indeed but an apparition?--or the single reality
amidst the throng of fantasies evoked by his overwrought
mind?--beaconing him through misty errors to a fate better than he
knew! In all seriousness, who could she be? Had Doctor Glyphic crowned
his eccentricities by marrying, and begetting a daughter?
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