I then took close stock
of my surroundings, and found them even grimmer than I had
anticipated. Though the trees were packed closely together, and there
was much undergrowth, the moonbeams were so powerful and so fully
concentrated on the spinney, that I could see no inconsiderable
distance ahead of me. Over everything hung a solemn and preternatural
hush. I saw shadows everywhere--shadows that defied analysis and had
no material counterparts. A sudden crashing of brushwood brought me to
a standstill, and sent the blood in columns to my heart. Then I
laughed loudly--it was only a hare, the prettiest and pertest thing
imaginable. I went on. Something whizzed past my face. I drew back in
horror--it was a bat, merely a bat. My nerves were out of order, the
fall had unsteadied them; I must pull myself together. I did so, and
continued to advance. A shadow, long, narrow, and grotesque, fell
across my path, and sent a thousand and one icy shivers down my back.
In an agony of terror I shut my eyes and plunged madly on. Something
struck me in the face and hurled me back. My eyes opened
involuntarily, and I saw a tree that, either out of pique or sheer
obstinacy, had planted itself half-way across the path. I examined its
branches to make sure they _were_ branches, and continued my march. A
score more paces, a sudden bend, and I was in an open space,
brilliantly illuminated by moonbeams and peopled with countless,
moving shadows. One would have to go far to find a wilder, weirder,
and more grimly suggestive spot.
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