Tales of the Wonder Club: Volume 2

The second of two volumes containing the complete Tales of the Wonder Club

Tales of the Wonder Club was originally published as three volumes between 1899-1900 and all three books are present in this special Leonaur two volume set. These tales are unusual for late 19th century works; most of the stories are gothic with elements of the supernatural, weird, bizarre, horror or fantasy and some commentators have likened them to the work of J. Sheridan Le Fanu. An acknowledged ‘grandfather of the supernatural,’ Le Fanu’s work was typical of the early to mid-nineteenth century and the author of these volumes has paid homage to the master, in much the same way as did M. R. James, another fine writer of supernatural fiction. The potentially uninspiring pseudonym of the author of these well regarded books, ‘Dryasdust,’ is used humorously, and with a nod to Sir Walter Scott; in fact Dryasdust was not his only nom-de-plume, he also wrote under the name M. Y. Halidom though he was in reality Englishman, Alexander Huth. In the period leading to the outbreak of the Great War, Huth wrote a number of supernatural novels, one of them, coincidentally, with the same title as that classic of the modern ghost story, The Woman in Black.
Included in volume 2 are: The Three Pauls, The Waxen Image, The Chieftain’s Destiny, A Tale of the French Revolution and The Gipsy Queen.
Leonaur editions are newly typeset and are not facsimiles; each title is available in softcover and hardback with dustjacket.

I remained at the door, my eyes and mouth wide open, in mute horror, unable to advance a step or utter an exclamation, until my friend, looking up and inquiring the reason of my surprise, the figure behind the chair instantly vanished. I then proceeded to relate to her the vision, which she, however, smiled at and affected to treat as a temporary delusion on my part, the result of indigestion or disordered state of my nerves. I persisted that I was in the most perfect health, and that I had seen what I chose to style her “double.”<br>
She declared to me that she herself had not been conscious of it, and that, therefore, whatever I might say to the contrary, it was a delusion. She answered even with some irritability—very unusual to her—which made me think that she had long been aware of this phenomenon in herself, but wished to keep it secret from others.<br>
Seeing she was displeased, I said no more, and half persuaded myself that I had been deluded by my senses. She had been living with us for some time previous to the first appearance of the spectre, but after this first visit the apparition repeatedly presented itself, often as many as five or six times in the same day, though sometimes disappearing for a week or a month, and then returning. I observed that the figure always appeared clearer and more defined the more my friend appeared absorbed in some favourite occupation, or when in a deep reverie. In whatsoever way she happened to be occupied, whether in reading, writing, reckoning, or in earnest conversation, the spectre would instantly appear behind her, imitating her every movement with the precision of a looking-glass.<br>
Of course, this peculiarity in her constitution caused no slight terror to myself, as well as to my father, who was then alive, and some intimate friends; yet after a time, finding that the visits of the apparition boded no harm, and getting accustomed to the same, we hailed our spiritual visitant as a welcome guest, cracking jokes in its presence, and even addressing it with so little appearance of reverence, that had it not been a very good-tempered spectre, it must have resented our rudeness. But the double never showed any resentment, unless treating us all with silent contempt may be considered as resentment. Indeed, it had never been once known to utter a sound; neither did it appear to be conscious of our presence.<br>
I remember on one occasion, for a frolic, throwing a heavy book at its head, but this had no further effect than to disturb for a moment the luminous ether of which the spectre appeared composed, and which speedily re-settled itself, while the phantom seemed unconscious of having received injury or insult of any kind. The book passed through its head as if it had been air or smoke, and fell to the ground. I was bold enough once to walk up to it and take it by the arm, and found to my surprise, that there was a slight resistance, like that of muslin or crape, but it melted within my grasp, and I noticed that wherever I placed my hand, that that part of the figure was instantly wanting, and did not right itself until I withdrew my touch.<br>
Sometimes the whole figure would disappear if I came within two paces of it, and it was not always of the same consistency, being sometimes less palpable than at others. This I observed to be dependent upon the greater or less absorption of my friend in her occupation or reverie. It is also remarkable that the more clearly defined and life-like the phantom appeared, the more exhausted and haggard grew my friend, and vice versa.<br>
But I must now return to the second visit of our spiritual companion. You may well imagine my terror and consternation at its first appearance, yet when the first shock had passed over, I should probably never have related the vision to a single soul, and set down everything to hallucination, had I not shortly after caught a second glimpse of the spectre. This time my friend and I happened to be playing chess together, when, whilst waiting for her to move, I distinctly saw the double leaning over her chair, as if in the act of assisting her in the game.<br>
“Look, Claribel,” I cried; “there it is again, you can’t deny it this time,” whereupon the figure instantly disappeared.<br>
Now, as my friend still persisted that it was nothing more than my delusion, I began to be alarmed for my own health, and acquainted my father with what I had seen. He, too, laughed at me, and called it a silly girlish fancy, but said no more until I had seen it again three or four times, going immediately to my father each time after the vision had presented itself, and describing to him exactly the attitude and the gestures of the apparition on each successive visit.<br>
Then my father became alarmed for the state of my health, and a doctor was sent for, that I might be bled. But on the doctor’s arrival, he could detect nothing wrong with me; but just to satisfy my father, ordered me a little harmless physic, and took his departure. Believing that whether the doctor perceived it or not, that I must really be in a very bad state, I took all his medicine in regular doses, and at the times prescribed, carrying out his injunctions to the letter.<br>
Nevertheless, the vision continued, appearing several times a day, and remaining sometimes almost half the day at a visit. Upon hearing all this, my father called for the doctor again, and positively insisted on my being bled this time. I remember that I was averse to the operation, never having undergone it before, and imagining that the pain would be much greater than I found it in reality. I therefore begged—finding my father so determined—that my friend might be present during the operation to give me courage.<br>
This was assented to, and my friend was called into the parlour, looking pale and trembling, as if she fancied herself guilty of the pain about to be inflicted on me. She remained stationary in front of me, with a look of sweet commiseration in her face, but without uttering a word.<br>
Once or twice I thought she was going to speak, but she checked herself, and then I noticed a struggle going on within her, as if she would have said, “Ought I not to prevent this operation, and openly confess that what my friend has seen, is not an hallucination, but a reality; a phenomenon belonging to my constitution? But, no; I dare not.”<br>
This was how I read the expression of her face. However, the operation passed over with far less pain than I had expected, when, oh, wonderful! on looking up again at the face of my friend, who was standing motionless as a statue, I perceived once more her double, not this time as usual, standing behind her and imitating her attitude, but pacing up and down the room with rapid steps and wringing her hands, as if in despair. <br>