"And Ralph Rinkelmann rejoiced that he was a man, and not a Shadow."
* * * * *
When I had finished my story, the not unusual silence followed. It was
soon broken by Adela.
"But what were those other shadows, mysteries in the midst of mystery?"
persisted she.
"My dear, as the little child said shadows were the ghosts of the body,
so I say these were the shadows of the mind.--Will that do?"
"I must think. I don't know. I can't trust you.---I _do_ believe,
uncle, you write whatever comes into your head; and then when any one
asks you the meaning of this or that, you hunt round till you find a
meaning just about the same size as the thing itself, and stick it
on.--Don't you, now?"
"Perhaps _yes_, and perhaps _no_, and perhaps both," I
answered.
"You have the most confounded imagination I ever knew, Smith, my boy!"
said the colonel. "You run right away, and leave me to come hobbling
after as I best can."
"Oh, never mind; I always return to my wife and children," I answered;
and being an old bachelor, this passed for a good joke with the
kind-hearted company. No more remarks were made upon my Shadow story,
though I was glad to see the curate pondering over it. Before we parted,
the usual question of who was to read the next, had to be settled.
"I proposed, for a change," said the curate, "that the club meet at my
house the next time, and that the story be omitted for once.
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