The Somerset reporter., 1897-10-21
MIR. HARBERTON.

mo, old man, of course | don't be-
heve IN spirits or nonsense of that sort
Yet something that | never quite un.
derstood once happened to me. You all
know about that kind of thing, and per-
haps you can explain it.
After left Oxford-without hon
ors-I spent lot of time loafing at
home. 1t was a slow part of the coun-
try, nothing much to shoot and moth
er, an invalid, couldn't stir out of her
room.
Il didn't mean deliberately to de-
ceive her, but what life is there for a
healthy young man, stuck down there,
| hanging round a sickroom from one
month to another? He must come to the
surface to breathe, whether the air be
wholesome or not. AT first, when | cut
for day or two, | would call it bust
ness, but the mater knew old Findlay
had always managed the investments
and the money and all that. So when
| took run up to town and didn' re-
turn at night had to invent a friend
and to pretend had put up with him
That came as easy as lying always does
Only mother, who had little to interest
her, insisted on hearing all the particu
lars-how my friend looked, what he
said, and the rest. l got into lot of
tight places at the start, till thought
of man l had known two years before,
and kept to a description of him.
"Harberton was his name. He was
cruising on the Mediterranean for his
health when | was on the Sayonara
with the Blakes. He was a queer chap
believed iii occultism and rot of that
sort, and we all laughed at him for it.
We never thought him i'll, merely lazy
One moonless night, after dining on his
yacht, we lounged on deck, with those
myriads of stars making US feel Jolly
smart
"Harberton lay on steamer chair
he used to pass the night there-gazing
at the sky with his inscrutable eyes.
We had all been laughing and chatting
when he came on deck, but somehow
the immensely of it all had sobered us,
and we were quiet and solemn, when
Herberton, pointing heavenward, said
in his languid, affected drawl, 'Tomor-
row l shall know what these have to
tell. We believed it to be merely ono
of his poses, but in the morning we
were horribly startled by the news that
he was dead. He had died lying there
in his chair during the night
"Well, Harberton S name occurred to
me when | was forced to invent a story
to satisfy mother, and, though couldn I
write a story to save my life, whenever
began jawing about him everything
came quite pat. Often | blessed his
memory when | could go off for few
days, have good time and return to
find mother quite pleased,
This went ON for awhile, till mother
began to bother me with a request to
ask my friend to visit us at Frampton
Chelmsford tried hard to get her off
the notion. | said that he was busy or
i'll, that entertaining guests would hurt
her, and all manner of things But she
seemed set upon it-talked nothing else
The doctor said it was a sick fancy,
that in her weak state any craving must
be humored
"Thus cornered, / wrote a letter urg-
ing my dear Harberton'--I hadn t the
remotest idea what his Christian name
was-to come to us even for a day
Mother insisted upon adding a line
she who had not penned a word for
notwithstanding him to come that she
might have an opportunity of thanking
him for his friendliness toward her son
did feel mean when | took the invita-
ton into another room and burned IT.
Next morning he was to arrive. |
meant to fake up telegram somehow
giving an excuse for his absence when
| went to the station on pretcnse of
meeting him. My mother was strange
ly well that morning. Her customary
lassitude and pain had vanished Sho
was reclining on couch drawn close to
the open window. Her checks were al
most rosy, and there was lace arrange
ment over her white hair that made her
look prcttier than | had ever seen her
She was all Impotence to see Harber
ton and hurried me off to the station
half an hour too soon.
Now, you needn t believe what fol
lows unless you like often doubt it
myself knew something was to hap
pen as heard the sound of the coming
engine, and as l watched the train
sweep around the curve of the line /
wanted badly to run away, but could
not. OF course there are seldom many
passengers for Chelmsford This time
there was but one. | caught a glimpse
of his face at the window of a carriage
where he sat alone, and my heart seem
ed to stop beating A moment later he
stood before me- 1t was Harberton. He
was exactly as l remembered him.
There was nothing in his appearance
or manner to account for the dread in
me. We exchanged greetings, but no
word passed between us. We traversed
The leafy lanes as in a dream, but they
and myself We're visionary-he alone
was real. And all the time the memory