Chapter 4

For six or seven months I saw no more of Mr. Slinkton. He called
once at my house, but I was not at home; and he once asked me to
dine with him in the Temple, but I was engaged. His friend's
assurance was effected in March. Late in September or early in
October I was down at Scarborough for a breath of sea-air, where I
met him on the beach. It was a hot evening; he came toward me with
his hat in his hand; and there was the walk I had felt so strongly
disinclined to take in perfect order again, exactly in front of the
bridge of my nose.

He was not alone, but had a young lady on his arm.

She was dressed in mourning, and I looked at her with great
interest. She had the appearance of being extremely delicate, and
her face was remarkably pale and melancholy; but she was very
pretty. He introduced her as his niece, Miss Niner.

'Are you strolling, Mr. Sampson? Is it possible you can be idle?'

It WAS possible, and I WAS strolling.

'Shall we stroll together?'

'With pleasure.'

The young lady walked between us, and we walked on the cool sea
sand, in the direction of Filey.

'There have been wheels here,' said Mr. Slinkton. 'And now I look
again, the wheels of a hand-carriage! Margaret, my love, your
shadow without doubt!'

'Miss Niner's shadow?' I repeated, looking down at it on the sand.

'Not that one,' Mr. Slinkton returned, laughing. 'Margaret, my
dear, tell Mr. Sampson.'

'Indeed,' said the young lady, turning to me, 'there is nothing to
tell - except that I constantly see the same invalid old gentleman
at all times, wherever I go. I have mentioned it to my uncle, and
he calls the gentleman my shadow.'

'Does he live in Scarborough?' I asked.

'He is staying here.'

'Do you live in Scarborough?'

'No, I am staying here. My uncle has placed me with a family here,
for my health.'

'And your shadow?' said I, smiling.

'My shadow,' she answered, smiling too, 'is - like myself - not
very robust, I fear; for I lose my shadow sometimes, as my shadow
loses me at other times. We both seem liable to confinement to the
house. I have not seen my shadow for days and days; but it does
oddly happen, occasionally, that wherever I go, for many days
together, this gentleman goes. We have come together in the most
unfrequented nooks on this shore.'

'Is this he?' said I, pointing before us.

The wheels had swept down to the water's edge, and described a
great loop on the sand in turning. Bringing the loop back towards
us, and spinning it out as it came, was a hand-carriage, drawn by a
man.

'Yes,' said Miss Niner, 'this really is my shadow, uncle.'

As the carriage approached us and we