'Na! Na!' came the answer, 'there is nae sic another fule in theseparts. Nor has there been since the time o' Jamie Fleeman--him thatwas fule to the Laird o' Udny. Why, mon! sic a heathenish dress as yehave on till ye has nae been seen in these pairts within the memory o'mon. An' I'm thinkin' that sic a dress never was for sittin' on thecauld rock, as ye done beyont. Mon! but do ye no fear the rheumatismor the lumbagy wi' floppin' doon on to the cauld stanes wi' yer bareflesh? I was thinking that it was daft ye waur when I see ye themornin' doon be the port, but it's fule or eediot ye maun be for thelike o' thot!' Mr. Markam did not care to argue the point, and as theywere now close to his own home he asked the salmon-fisher to have aglass of whisky--which he did--and they parted for the night. He tookgood care to warn all his family of the quicksand, telling them thathe had himself been in some danger from it.
All that night he never slept. He heard the hours strike one after theother; but try how he would he could not get to sleep. Over and overagain he went through the horrible episode of the quicksand, from thetime that Saft Tammie had broken his habitual silence to preach to himof the sin of vanity and to warn him. The question kept ever arisingin his mind: 'Am I then so vain as to be in the ranks of the foolish?'and the answer ever came in the words of the crazy prophet: '"Vanityof vanities! All is vanity." Meet thyself face to face, and repent erethe quicksand shall swallow thee!' Somehow a feeling of doom began toshape itself in his mind that he would yet perish in that samequicksand, for there he had already met himself face to face.
In the grey of the morning he dozed off, but it was evident that hecontinued the subject in his dreams, for he was fully awakened by hiswife, who said:
'Do sleep quietly! That blessed Highland suit has got on your brain.Don't talk in your sleep, if you can help it!' He was somehowconscious of a glad feeling, as if some terrible weight had beenlifted from him, but he did not know any cause of it. He asked hiswife what he had said in his sleep, and she answered:
'You said it often enough, goodness knows, for one to rememberit--"Not face to face! I saw the eagle plume over the bald head! Thereis hope yet! Not face to face!" Go to sleep! Do!' And then he did goto sleep, for he seemed to realise that the prophecy of the crazy manhad not yet been fulfilled. He had not met himself face to face--asyet at all events.
He was awakened early by a maid who came to tell him that there was afisherman at the door who wanted to see him. He dressed himself asquickly as he could--for he was not yet expert with the Highlanddress--and hurried
down, not wishing to keep the salmon-fisherwaiting. He was surprised and not altogether pleased to find that hisvisitor was none other than Saft Tammie, who at once opened fire onhim:
'I maun gang awa' t' the post; but I thocht that I would waste an houron ye, and ca' roond just to see if ye waur still that fou wi' vanityas on the nicht gane by. An I see that ye've no learned the lesson.Well! the time is comin', sure eneucht! However I have all the time i'the marnins to my ain sel', so I'll aye look roond jist till see howye gang yer ain gait to the quicksan', and then to the de'il! I'm afftill ma wark the noo!' And he went straightway, leaving Mr. Markamconsiderably vexed, for the maids within earshot were vainly trying toconceal their giggles. He had fairly made up his mind to wear on thatday ordinary clothes, but the visit of Saft Tammie reversed hisdecision. He would show them all that he was not a coward, and hewould go on as he had begun--come what might. When he came tobreakfast in full martial panoply the children, one and all, held downtheir heads and the backs of their necks became very red indeed. As,however, none of them laughed--except Titus, the youngest boy, who wasseized with a fit of hysterical choking and was promptly banished fromthe room--he could not reprove them, but began to break his egg with asternly determined air. It was unfortunate that as his wife washanding him a cup of tea one of the buttons of his sleeve caught inthe lace of her morning wrapper, with the result that the hot tea wasspilt over his bare knees. Not unnaturally, he made use of a swearword, whereupon his wife, somewhat nettled, spoke out:
'Well, Arthur, if you will make such an idiot of yourself with thatridiculous costume what else can you expect? You are not accustomed toit--and you never will be!' In answer he began an indignant speechwith: 'Madam!' but he got no further, for now that the subject wasbroached, Mrs. Markam intended to have her say out. It was not apleasant say, and, truth to tell, it was not said in a pleasantmanner. A wife's manner seldom is pleasant when she undertakes to tellwhat she considers 'truths' to her husband. The result was that ArthurFernlee Markam undertook, then and there, that during his stay inScotland he would wear no other costume than the one she abused.Woman-like his wife had the last word--given in this case with tears:
'Very well, Arthur! Of course you will do as you choose. Make me asridiculous as you can, and spoil the poor girls' chances in life.Young men don't seem to care, as a general rule, for an idiotfather-in-law! But I must warn you that your vanity will some day geta rude shock--if indeed you are not before then in an asylum or dead!'
It was manifest after a few days that Mr. Markam would have to takethe major part of his outdoor exercise by himself. The girls now andagain took a walk with him, chiefly in the early morning or late atnight, or on a wet day when there would be no one about; theyprofessed to be willing to go out at all times, but somehow somethingalways seemed to occur to prevent it. The boys could never be found atall on such occasions, and as to Mrs. Markam she sternly refused to goout with him on any consideration so long as he should continue tomake a fool of himself. On the Sunday he dressed himself in hishabitual broadcloth, for he rightly felt that church was not a placefor angry feelings; but on Monday morning he resumed his Highlandgarb. By this time he would have given a good deal if he had neverthought of the dress, but his British obstinacy was strong, and hewould not give in. Saft Tammie called at his house every morning, and,not being able to see him nor to have any message taken to him, usedto call back in the afternoon when the letter-bag had been deliveredand watched for his going out. On such occasions he never failed towarn him against his vanity in the same words which he had used at thefirst. Before many days were over Mr. Markam had come to look upon himas little short of a scourge.
By the time the week was out the enforced partial solitude, theconstant chagrin, and the never-ending brooding which was thusengendered, began to make Mr. Markam quite ill. He was too proud totake any of his family into his confidence since they had in his viewtreated him very badly. Then he did not sleep well at night, and whenhe did sleep he had constantly bad dreams. Merely to assure himselfthat his pluck was not failing him he made it a practice to visit thequicksand at least once every day; he hardly ever failed to go therethe last thing at night. It was perhaps this habit that wrought thequicksand with its terrible experience so perpetually into his dreams.More and more vivid these became, till on waking at times he couldhardly realise that he had not been actually in the flesh to visit thefatal spot. He sometimes thought that he might have been walking inhis sleep.
One night his dream was so vivid that when he awoke he could notbelieve that it had only been a dream. He shut his eyes again andagain, but each time the vision, if it was a vision, or the reality,if it was a reality, would rise before him. The moon was shining fulland yellow over the quicksand as he approached it; he could see theexpanse of light shaken and disturbed and full of black shadows as theliquid sand quivered and trembled and wrinkled and eddied as was itswont between its pauses of marble calm. As he drew close to it anotherfigure came towards it from the opposite side with equal footsteps. Hesaw that it was his own figure, his very self, and in silent terror,compelled by what force he knew not, he advanced--charmed as the birdis by the snake, mesmerised or hypnotised--to meet this other self. Ashe felt the yielding sand closing over him he awoke in the agony ofdeath, trembling with fear, and, strange to say, with the silly man'sprophecy seeming to sound in his ears: '"Vanity of vanities! All isvanity!" See thyself and repent ere the quicksand swallow thee!'
So convinced was he that this was no dream that he arose, early as itwas, and dressing himself without disturbing his wife took his way tothe shore. His heart fell when he came across a series of footsteps onthe sands, which he at once recognised as his own. There was the samewide heel, the same square toe; he had no doubt now that he hadactually been there, and half horrified, and half in a state of dreamystupor, he followed the footsteps, and found them lost in the edge ofthe yielding quicksand. This gave him a terrible shock, for there wereno return steps marked on the sand, and he felt that there was somedread mystery which he could not penetrate, and the penetration ofwhich would, he feared, undo him.
In this state of affairs he took two wrong courses. Firstly he kepthis trouble to himself, and, as none of his family had any clue to it,every innocent word or expression which they used supplied fuel to theconsuming fire of his imagination. Secondly he began to read booksprofessing to bear upon the mysteries of dreaming and of mentalphenomena generally, with the result that every wild imagination ofevery crank or half-crazy philosopher became a living germ of unrestin the fertilising soil of his disordered brain. Thus negatively andpositively all things began to work to a common end. Not the least ofhis disturbing causes was Saft Tammie, who had now become at certaintimes of the day a fixture at his gate. After a while, beinginterested in the previous state of this individual, he made inquiriesregarding his past with the following result.
Saft Tammie was popularly believed to be the son of a laird in one ofthe counties round the Firth of Forth. He had been partially educatedfor the ministry, but for some cause which no one ever knew threw uphis prospects suddenly, and, going to Peterhead in its days of whalingprosperity, had there taken service on a whaler. Here off and on hehad remained for some years, getting gradually more and more silent inhis habits, till finally his shipmates protested against so taciturn amate, and he had found service amongst the fishing smacks of thenorthern fleet. He had worked for many years at the fishing withalways the reputation of being 'a wee bit daft,' till at length he hadgradually settled down at Crooken, where the laird, doubtless knowingsomething of his family history, had given him a job which practicallymade him a pensioner. The minister who gave the information finishedthus:--
'It is a very strange thing, but the man seems to have some odd kindof gift. Whether it be that "second sight" which we Scotch people areso prone to believe in, or some other occult form of knowledge, I knownot, but nothing of a disastrous tendency ever occurs in this placebut the men with whom he lives are able to quote after the event
somesaying of his which certainly appears to have foretold it. He getsuneasy or excited--wakes up, in fact--when death is in the air!'
This did not in any way tend to lessen Mr. Markam's concern, but onthe contrary seemed to impress the prophecy more deeply on his mind.Of all the books which he had read on his new subject of study noneinterested him so much as a German one _Die Doeppleganger_, by Dr.Heinrich von Aschenberg, formerly of Bonn. Here he learned for thefirst time of cases where men had led a double existence--each naturebeing quite apart from the other--the body being always a reality withone spirit, and a simulacrum with the other. Needless to say that Mr.Markam realised this theory as exactly suiting his own case. Theglimpse which he had of his own back the night of his escape from thequicksand--his own footmarks disappearing into the quicksand with noreturn steps visible--the prophecy of Saft Tammie about his meetinghimself and perishing in the quicksand--all lent aid to the convictionthat he was in his own person an instance of the doeppleganger. Beingthen conscious of a double life he took steps to prove its existenceto his own satisfaction. To this end on one night before going to bedhe wrote his name in chalk on the soles of his shoes. That night hedreamed of the quicksand, and of his visiting it--dreamed so vividlythat on walking in the grey of the dawn he could not believe that hehad not been there. Arising, without disturbing his wife, he soughthis shoes.
The chalk signatures were undisturbed! He dressed himself and stoleout softly. This time the tide was in, so he crossed the dunes andstruck the shore on the further side of the quicksand. There, oh,horror of horrors! he saw his own footprints dying into the abyss!
He went home a desperately sad man. It seemed incredible that he, anelderly commercial man, who had passed a long and uneventful life inthe pursuit of business in the midst of roaring, practical London,should thus find himself enmeshed in mystery and horror, and that heshould discover that he had two existences. He could not speak of histrouble even to his own wife, for well he knew that she would at oncerequire the fullest particulars of that other life--the one which shedid not know; and that she would at the start not only imagine butcharge him with all manner of infidelities on the head of it. And sohis brooding grew deeper and deeper still. One evening--the tide thengoing out and the moon being at the full--he was sitting waiting fordinner when the maid announced that Saft Tammie was making adisturbance outside because he would not be let in to see him. He wasvery indignant, but did not like the maid to think that he had anyfear on the subject, and so told her to bring him in. Tammie entered,walking more briskly than ever with his head up and a look of vigorousdecision in the eyes that were so generally cast down. As soon as heentered he said:
'I have come to see ye once again--once again; and there ye sit, stilljust like a cockatoo on a pairch. Weel, mon, I forgie ye! Mind yethat, I forgie ye!' And without a word more he turned and walked outof the house, leaving the master in speechless indignation.
After dinner he determined to pay another visit to the quicksand--hewould not allow even to himself that he was afraid to go. And so,about nine o'clock, in full array, he marched to the beach, andpassing over the sands sat on the skirt of the nearer rock. The fullmoon was behind him and its light lit up the bay so that its fringe offoam, the dark outline of the headland, and the stakes of thesalmon-nets were all emphasised. In the brilliant yellow glow thelights in the windows of Port Crooken and in those of the distantcastle of the laird trembled like stars through the sky. For a longtime he sat and drank in the beauty of the scene, and his soul seemedto feel a peace that it had not known for many days. All the pettinessand annoyance and silly fears of the past weeks seemed blotted out,and a new holy calm took the vacant place. In this sweet and solemnmood he reviewed his late action calmly, and felt ashamed of himselffor his vanity and for the obstinacy which had followed it. And thenand there he made up his mind that the present would be the last timehe would wear the costume which had estranged him from those whom heloved, and which had caused him so many hours and days of chagrin,vexation, and pain.
But almost as soon as he arrived at this conclusion another voiceseemed to speak within him and mockingly to ask him if he should everget the chance to wear the suit again--that it was too late--he hadchosen his course and must now abide the issue.
'It is not too late,' came the quick answer of his better self; andfull of the thought, he rose up to go home and divest himself of thenow hateful costume right away. He paused for one look at thebeautiful scene. The light lay pale and mellow, softening everyoutline of rock and tree and house-top, and deepening the shadows intovelvety-black, and lighting, as with a pale flame, the incoming tide,that now crept fringe-like across the flat waste of sand. Then he leftthe rock and stepped out for the shore.
But as he did so a frightful spasm of horror shook him, and for aninstant the blood rushing to his head shut out all the light of thefull moon. Once more he saw that fatal image of himself moving beyondthe quicksand from the opposite rock to the shore. The shock was allthe greater for the contrast with the spell of peace which he had justenjoyed; and, almost paralysed in every sense, he stood and watchedthe fatal vision and the wrinkly, crawling quicksand that seemed towrithe and yearn for something that lay between. There could be nomistake this time, for though the moon behind threw the face intoshadow he could see there the same shaven cheeks as his own, and thesmall stubby moustache of a few weeks' growth. The light shone on thebrilliant tartan, and on the eagle's plume. Even the bald space at oneside of the Glengarry cap glistened, as did the cairngorm brooch onthe shoulder and the tops of the silver buttons. As he looked he felthis feet slightly sinking, for he was still near the edge of the beltof quicksand, and he stepped back. As he did so the other figurestepped forward, so that the space between them was preserved.
So the two stood facing each other, as though in some weirdfascination; and in the rushing of the blood through his brain Markamseemed to hear the words of the prophecy: 'See thyself face to face,and repent ere the quicksand swallow thee.' He did stand face to facewith himself, he had repented--and now he was sinking in thequicksand! The warning and prophecy were coming true.
Above him the seagulls screamed, circling round the fringe of theincoming tide, and the sound being entirely mortal recalled him tohimself. On the instant he stepped back a few quick steps, for as yetonly his feet were merged in the soft sand. As he did so the otherfigure stepped forward, and coming within the deadly grip of thequicksand began to sink. It seemed to Markam that he was looking athimself going down to his doom, and on the instant the anguish of hissoul found vent in a terrible cry. There was at the same instant aterrible cry from the other figure, and as Markam threw up his handsthe figure did the same. With horror-struck eyes he saw him sinkdeeper into the quicksand; and then, impelled by what power he knewnot, he advanced again towards the sand to meet his fate. But as hismore forward foot began to sink he heard again the cries of theseagulls which seemed to restore his benumbed faculties. With a mightyeffort he drew his foot out of the sand which seemed to clutch it,leaving his shoe behind, and then in sheer terror he turned and ranfrom the place, never stopping till his breath and strength failedhim, and he sank half swooning on the grassy path through thesandhills.
* * * * *
Arthur Markam made up his mind not to tell his family of his terribleadventure--until at least such time as he should be complete master ofhimself. Now that the fatal double--his other self--had been engulfedin the quicksand he felt something like his old peace of mind.