And once more he mused with gratitude on the things that Mavis had
done for him. He thought of how she had saved him from the ugly
imaginations of his youth. How marvelously she had purified and
elevated him! He used to be afraid of himself, of all the
potentialities for evil that one takes with one across the threshold
of manhood.
The fantastic dread which recurred to his memory now, as he turned
from Dean Street into Oxford Street, had been started when he first
heard the legendary tale of Hadleigh Wood. It was said that seventy or
a hundred years ago some louts had caught girls bathing in the stream
and violated them. The legend declared that one of the offenders was
executed and the rest were sent to prison for life. Perhaps it was all
a myth, but it helped to give the upper wood a bad name; and out of
these fabled materials William had built his fancy--dread and desire
combining--a wish that, when he pushed the branches apart, he might
see a lass bathing; and a fear that he would not be able to resist an
impulse to plunge into the water and carry her off. As he walked
through the shade cast by summer foliage, with a hot whisper of
nascent virility tormenting his senses, the fancy was almost strong
enough to be a hallucination.
Pages:
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62