"No!" he said.
I opened my lips, to offer a contradictory opinion; for my sense of the
saneness of things, would not allow me to take the story literally; then
I shut them again, without saying anything. Somehow, the certainty in
Tonnison's voice affected my doubts. I felt, all at once, less assured;
though I was by no means convinced as yet.
After a few moments' silence, Tonnison rose, stiffly, and began to
undress. He seemed disinclined to talk; so I said nothing; but followed
his example. I was weary; though still full of the story I had
just read.
Somehow, as I rolled into my blankets, there crept into my mind a memory
of the old gardens, as we had seen them. I remembered the odd fear that
the place had conjured up in our hearts; and it grew upon me, with
conviction, that Tonnison was right.
It was very late when we rose--nearly midday; for the greater part of
the night had been spent in reading the MS.
Tonnison was grumpy, and I felt out of sorts. It was a somewhat dismal
day, and there was a touch of chilliness in the air.
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