Litchfield enquirer., 1878-07-25
THE SHADOW OF A DREAM.
A STORY.

think the very first time this youngster goes,
 he-but must begin at the beginning. The way of our bank at Charrendon was l just this. We had several branches at distant places-small towns, you understand, where
 there was not enough business done to pay for
 keeping clerk constantly on the spot so we
 only had an office, and only opened it on mar
 ket days, once week. One of us used to go over in the morning and
 return at night. The railway helped us to
 three of these journeys, but the fourth, to
 Meresdene, had to be madeby gig. The place l lay fifteen miles off, in the very bosom of the downs, and the road ran all in among them,
 and sometimes over their topmost shoulders. | It was for the most part lonely, and in Winter sometimes very rough and bleak. 1 had to do 1 the days business at Meresdene, but, beyond bitter winds, snow, and rain, nothing ever be- 1 fell me as have said, for twenty years. In | the summer it was pleasant drive; in Win l ter, of course, in bad weather, it was an un- | pleasant one-that was all the impression it. ever made upon me. Young Chase, however, never seemed to fancy it from the first, when, 1 it was talked about for him to do, he did not l like the idea He told me so, and laughed l at him. I said, ''Oh! you won't mind it; af-s
 ter bit. you'll think nothing of it, no more.
 than do." You understand, he was not used l to the country he had been born and bred in London, and they drafted him from our chief
 office there, down here, for the sake of health, He had been ailing long while; the doctors said he ought to live out of town and, being
 trustv servant and liked by our manager, an
 exchange was arranged.
 He had been at Charrendon about six months and did not seem much the better for the change He was tall and muscular, but thin, pale faced, large-eyed fellow, always fond of
 reading Shakespeare and the like, and had dreamy absent kind of way with him at times, and was particularly fond, in his leisure, of. wandering over our downs with his book. He
 often used to talk to me about them, saying
 how beautiful they were, and that no sort of
 country that he had ever been in had impress ed him so much. 1 am afraid l did not great.
 ly sympathize with him {; the downs had never
 been anything to me. Indeed, 1 don't know
 that ever gave them a thought, till he used
 to speak about them, and yet have lived by
 them nearly all my life.
 We'll, as was saying, he had been with uss
 six months, and it was just about the beginning of November when I was attacked by rheu-
 matism. They said if did not take care,
 should be laid up. and that I must not expose
 myself through the coming cold weather. This
 led to young Chases having to do my work at
 Meresdene. So 1 drove him over one week, to
 show him the road, and the way the work was
 done, that he might be able to take my place the following week and for the rest of the Win ter.
 Now 1t was when this was settled that he
 first seemed to shirk the job. He told me that
 he had been constantly dreaming about the
 downs, and, as he seemed to day, one particu-
 lar part of them, Mind you, he had never
 seen the place, didn't know there was such
 place really but he said he had dreamed of it
 over and over again, and it always made him
 uncomfortable. It was deep chalk-cutting,
 he said, past which the road wound up the
 side of hill from one of the bottoms or val
 leys. In sort of way he described the place
 to me, but, bless your heart never paid any
 heed to it; didn't recognize it as any place
 knew and it was only when was driving
 him over Meresdene, that found out what he meant.
 We were exactly half way on our journey
 and had turned on to what are known as the
 Whiteways-that is, several narr chalk tracks whicL show up very white across the turf, and run side.b by side with the road for some dis tance as it deseends the steep hill past great chalk-cutting. This perhaps, is the most sol itary and exposed part of the drive, and lies on one of the highest ridges of the Downs. There is no habitation for good mile on ei- ther hand, Dene's Gate turnpike at the bottom of the bill being the nearest and when we came to the beginning of the descent where we could see down in the valley-there's a splendid view, mind you, there-he almost frightened the life out of me by suddenly jumping up from his seat and exclaiming: ''There! there it is that's the very place I've seen hundred times before in my dreams have seen it every night for a month past !"
 Sure enough, the road passes the chalk-cut- ting, but had never thought anything of that, and it had never occurred to me AS being the place he meant.
 ''Well," said I, ''sit down don't excite your self like that, you'll upset the gig. If it is the place. it won't bite you !'' And tlen he sank down quietly by my side, his chin dropped on his chest, one of his dreamy fits come on, and he never spoke another word till we reached Meresdene.
 The little town was busy with the sheep mar ket, and he reused up throughout the day. He was always nimble at his work, soon took in what was to be done, and was quite comforta- ble until we set out homeward. Then the dreamy fit seemed to come on again. It was past five o'clock, and getting dark, when we stopped at Dene's Gate turnpike to light our lamps. Soon after this, we began to ascend the hill, near the topof which is the chalk-cut- ting and the Whiteways. 1 was on the look out for what he would do here, expecting some oddity for he was always odd; but he remained silent, and beyond fidgeting in his seat, and looking from side to side of the road and up at the steep cliff of chalk as far as the twilight and glitter of our lamps would show it him, he did nothing and when we got back to Charrendon, said s'Well, there's not much to be afraid of in that days work is there And now that you have seen the reali- ty, perhaps you'll leaveoff dreaming about the Whiteways." He merely smiled, and said ''Oh no, of course not ; it's only stupid fam cy had There's no difficulty about the jour- ney ;hI shall do it all right enough" Yet I thought he forced himself rather to say this and didn't mean it.
 We'll, nothing particular happened during the next week, only noticed that young Chase was little more dreamy and odd than usual. 1 said to him on the Tuesday, Gas he was to go on the Wednesday ) You don't really mind this job, do you, or would like to have some one with you? We might send the ostler lad, I 1 think" Whereupon he said, very hurriedly | and anxiousIy, thought ''Oh dear no, no, certainly not on no account !" and answer l ed: Well, think you are right; it would 1 look rather silly; you might get laughed at !" Though am bound to say of late years since l the railways have brought London so much l closer to us, people have more than once said | that they thought it rather foolhardy of me to | come back at night alone in the Winter seeing | there was always good sum of money in the | driving seat, the farmers paying-in, and the 1 like, during the day, you understand. But, l bless your hearts, never had any fear, and Il could not understand why anybody else should so was quite relieved when young Chase plucked up, and wouldnot hear of having any body with him.
 We'll, off he went. We were very busy all l day, and thought no more about him. My l time home from Meresdene had usually been a | little before seven, according to the roads and l the weather. live over the office, you under stand and have done so ever since was made chief clerk. looked at my watch after had had my tea, and was astonished to see it was 1 half past seven. was astonished, that is, be- cause young Chase was not back andI confess I began to get little fidgety, when another half hour passed and still he had not returned. I locked out of the window and saw there was a thick fog-so thick could not see the lamps l on the other side of the market-place. This 1 accounted for his delay in my mind; the thing | had happened tome; but theroads are so white, and Jenny, the old mare, knew them SO well, | that beyond going slowly there was no diff culty but still, when ten, half-past, and elev- on came and m sion nf voa1n0 Chaco-well I |