The Portland daily press., 1893-12-13
1T

My dear friend, do you not understand
And yet can readily believe it. You think
have gone mad. 1t may be that am a
little unsettled in my mind, but not in the
way you suppose.
Yes, am to be married That is ALL
l may add that am scarcely acquainted
with her who will be my wife tomorrow
have met her but four or five times She is
not at all unpleasing to me. She is short,
stout and blond She is not rich In fact
she is just such young girl as you may
find by the hundred in the middle class
families, without any remarkable qualities
one way or the other.
"Then why should marry?" you ask.
marry in order that may not be alone
do not know how to put it so that you
may comprehend it, l scarcely compre-
bend it myself And then you will pity
me and despise me in just so far as the
condition of my mind is miserable
l cannot bear to be alone. I must feel
some one near me, some one who can talk,
who can say something, no matter what it
be, because-because-I cannot admit it
without shame-because am afraid when
alone.
vi, l. SCS CHe1O SOlll you 10 uOb understand
me. | am not afraid of danger that is
seen and understood. If burglar should
enter, could kill him without flinching.
am not afraid of ghosts. I have no fear
of the supernatural, for I believe in the
utter humiliation of every being who dis
appears
Then-yes. Then-oh, well, I am afraid
of myself. / am afraid of being afraid,
of IF
is losing control of itself, afraid of that hor-
rible sensation of unreasoning terror.
Laugh if you will. But it is frightful
and incurable I am afraid of the walls, of
the furniture, of familiar objects, which
take on to my disordered vision sort of
animal life am afraid, above all of the
dreadful confusion of my thoughts, afraid
that my reason is deserving me, over
whelmed and maddened by a mysterious
and intangible fear.
At first feel vague disquietude passing
through my mind, while shudder runs
over my body. look around. Nothingl
And yet would rather see something.
What? Something comprehensive, for /
am afraid solely because do not under
stand my fear
speak. l am afraid of the sound of nv
own voice. walk. I am afraid of the I'M
known presence behind the door, behind the
curtain. inside the closet under the bed.
And yet know that there is nothing any
where. turn suddenly because fear what
is behind me, even though there be nothing
there and / know it,
become agitated. | feel my agitation
increase. I lock myself in my room /
bury myself in my bed, I hide myself under
the clothes and crouching there, trembling,
rolled up like ball, l close my eyes des-
perately and remain thus for an indefinite
length of time, with the knowledge that
my candle is still burning on the table and
that ought to rise and blow it out And
yet do not dare. Is it not frightful to be
in such condition?
Formerly | never felt So used to GO
home TRANQUILITY. l came and went about
my apartments with nothing to disturb
the serenity of my soul. If any one had
told me that some malady of fear, unreal,
foolish and yet terrible. would seize on me
one day, l should have laughed him to
scorn. | used to open doors in the dark
ness with assurance; / went to bed slowly
and without boiling myself in, and never
got up in the middle of the night to make
sure that the doors of the room were tight
ly closed.
My terror originated last year in a sin
gular fashion. 1t was On one damp night
In autumn. When my servant had left
after dinner, asked myself what | should
do. l walked up and down my room for
awhile. | felt weary, detected without
cause, unable to work OR even to read A
tine rain was beating against the panes. /
was sad, overpowered by one of those fits
OF melancholy which make one feel like
crying, which make one want to talk with
some one else, with any one who can light
en- the dreariness
felt deserted. My rooms seemed to me
Empty and cherries as they never had
seemed before An infinite and heartrend-
ing solitude surrounded me. What should
do? l sat down. Then nervous impa-
thence took possession of me- | gou UP
again and began to wander about aimless
ly. Perhaps ] was slightly feyerish. for my
hands, which had held clasped behind my
back as one often does when walking slow.
ly, were burning, and I noticed it at the
time. Then all at once chill ran down
my back. [ thought that the dampness
had entered the house and that had better
make Il fire. did SO. It was the first time
that season. sat down again, idly watch
ing the flames, but soon the impossibility
Of keeping cuiet caused me to rise, and
felt that must arouse myself-must s.
out and find a friend
L went cue. called on three acquaint
ances, none Of whom was at home Then
l reached the boulevard, determined tt
meet some one knew
1t was depressing weather The wet
pavements glistened in the lamplight. \
damp rawness, such as freezes one by sud
den chills, heavy GOODNESS, filled the street
and seemed tic stife the gas flames.
l went OH at Il moderate gait, repeating
disconsolately to myself, Il shall find nc
one with whom to talk
entered several Of the cafes from She
Madeline to the Fauholpg Of Poissonlere.
Gloomy looking Georle seated at the tables
did not seem to have vitality enough to fin
ish their drinks
/ wandered Thus for some time and theN