The Hampdenshire Wonder

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Title: The Hampdenshire Wonder Author: J D Beresford * A Project
Gutenberg of Australia eBook * eBook No.: 0601411.txt Edition: 1
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Date first posted: June 2006 Date most recently updated: June 2006
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Title: The Hampdenshire Wonder Author: J D Beresford

CONTENTS:

PART I. MY EARLY ASSOCIATIONS
WITH GINGER STOTT

CHAPTER I.
THE MOTIVE
CHAPTER II.
NOTES FOR A BIOGRAPHY OF GINGER STOTT
CHAPTER III.
THE DISILLUSIONMENT OF GINGER STOTT

PART II. THE CHILDHOOD OF THE
WONDER

CHAPTER IV.
THE MANNER OF HIS BIRTH
CHAPTER V.
HIS DEPARTURE FROM STOKE-UNDERHILL
CHAPTER VI.
HIS FATHER'S DESERTION

CHAPTER VII.
HIS DEBT TO HENRY CHALLIS
CHAPTER VIII.
HIS FIRST VISIT TO CHALLIS COURT
INTERLUDE

PART II. (continued) THE WONDER
AMONG BOOKS

CHAPTER IX.
HIS PASSAGE THROUGH THE PRISON OF KNOWLEDGE
CHAPTER X.
HIS PASTORS AND MASTERS
CHAPTER XI.
HIS EXAMINATION
CHAPTER XII.
FUGITIVE

PART III. MY ASSOCIATION WITH THE

WONDER

CHAPTER XIII.
HOW I WENT TO PYM TO WRITE A BOOK
CHAPTER XIV.
THE INCIPIENCE OF MY SUBJECTION TO THE WONDER
CHAPTER XV.
THE PROGRESS AND RELAXATION OF MY SUBJECTION
CHAPTER XVI.
RELEASE
CHAPTER XVII.
IMPLICATIONS
EPILOGUE. THE USES OF MYSTERY
* * * * *

PART I. MY EARLY ASSOCIATIONS
WITH GINGER STOTT

CHAPTER I.

THE MOTIVE
I
I COULD not say at which station the woman and her baby entered the
train.
Since we had left London I had been engrossed in Henri Bergson's
Time and Free Will, as it is called in the English translation. I had been
conscious of various stoppages and changes of passengers, but my
attention had been held by Bergson's argument. I agreed with his
conclusion in advance, but I wished to master his reasoning.
I looked up when the woman entered my compartment, though I did
not notice the name of the station. I caught sight of the baby she was
carrying, and turned back to my book. I thought the child was a freak,
an abnormality; and such things disgust me.
I returned to the study of my Bergson and read: "It is at the great and
solemn crisis, decisive of our reputation with others, that we choose in
defiance of what is conventionally called a motive, and this absence of
any tangible reason is the more striking the deeper our freedom goes."
I kept my eyes on the book--the train had started again--but the next
passage conveyed no meaning to my mind, and as I attempted to
re-read it an impression was interposed between me and the work I was
studying.
I saw projected on the page before me an image which I mistook at first
for the likeness of Richard Owen. It was the conformation of the head
that gave rise to the mistake, a head domed and massive, white and
smooth--it was a head that had always interested me. But as I looked,
my mind already searching for the reason of this hallucination, I saw
that the lower part of the face was that of an infant. My eyes wandered
from the book, and my gaze fluttered along the four persons seated
opposite to me, till they rested on the reality of my vision. Even as
these acts were being performed, I found myself foolishly saying, "I
don't call this freedom."

For several seconds the eyes of the infant held mine. Its gaze was
steady and clear as that of a normal child, but what differentiated it was
the impression one received of calm intelligence. The head was
completely bald, and there was no trace of eyebrows, but the eyes
themselves were protected by thick, short lashes.
The child turned its head, and I felt my muscles relax. Until then I had
not been conscious that they had been stiffened. My gaze was released,
pushed aside as it were, and I found myself watching the object of the
child's next scrutiny.
This object was a man of forty or so, inclined to corpulence, and untidy.
He bore the evidences of failure in