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I
went
directly
home
to
Toledo
from
Boston
,
and
later
spent
a
month
at
Maumee
recuperating
from
my
ordeal
.
In
September
I
entered
Oberlin
for
my
final
year
,
and
from
then
till
the
next
June
was
busy
with
studies
and
other
wholesome
activities
--
reminded
of
the
bygone
terror
only
by
occasional
official
visits
from
government
men
in
connexion
with
the
campaign
which
my
pleas
and
evidence
had
started
.
Around
the
middle
of
July
--
just
a
year
after
the
Innsmouth
experience
--
I
spent
a
week
with
my
late
mother
's
family
in
Cleveland
;
checking
some
of
my
new
genealogical
data
with
the
various
notes
,
traditions
,
and
bits
of
heirloom
material
in
existence
there
,
and
seeing
what
kind
of
a
connected
chart
I
could
construct
.
I
did
not
exactly
relish
this
task
,
for
the
atmosphere
of
the
Williamson
home
had
always
depressed
me
.
There
was
a
strain
of
morbidity
there
,
and
my
mother
had
never
encouraged
my
visiting
her
parents
as
a
child
,
although
she
always
welcomed
her
father
when
he
came
to
Toledo
.
My
Arkham-born
grandmother
had
seemed
strange
and
almost
terrifying
to
me
,
and
I
do
not
think
I
grieved
when
she
disappeared
.
I
was
eight
years
old
then
,
and
it
was
said
that
she
had
wandered
off
in
grief
after
the
suicide
of
my
Uncle
Douglas
,
her
eldest
son
.
He
had
shot
himself
after
a
trip
to
New
England
--
the
same
trip
,
no
doubt
,
which
had
caused
him
to
be
recalled
at
the
Arkham
Historical
Society
.
This
uncle
had
resembled
her
,
and
I
had
never
liked
him
either
.
Something
about
the
staring
,
unwinking
expression
of
both
of
them
had
given
me
a
vague
,
unaccountable
uneasiness
.
My
mother
and
Uncle
Walter
had
not
looked
like
that
.
They
were
like
their
father
,
though
poor
little
cousin
Lawrence
--
Walter
's
son
--
had
been
almost
perfect
duplicate
of
his
grandmother
before
his
condition
took
him
to
the
permanent
seclusion
of
a
sanitarium
at
Canton
.
I
had
not
seen
him
in
four
years
,
but
my
uncle
once
implied
that
his
state
,
both
mental
and
physical
,
was
very
bad
.
This
worry
had
probably
been
a
major
cause
of
his
mother
's
death
two
years
before
.
My
grandfather
and
his
widowed
son
Walter
now
comprised
the
Cleveland
household
,
but
the
memory
of
older
times
hung
thickly
over
it
.
I
still
disliked
the
place
,
and
tried
to
get
my
researches
done
as
quickly
as
possible
.
Williamson
records
and
traditions
were
supplied
in
abundance
by
my
grandfather
;
though
for
Orne
material
I
had
to
depend
on
my
uncle
Walter
,
who
put
at
my
disposal
the
contents
of
all
his
files
,
including
notes
,
letters
,
cuttings
,
heirlooms
,
photographs
,
and
miniatures
.
It
was
in
going
over
the
letters
and
pictures
on
the
Orne
side
that
I
began
to
acquire
a
kind
of
terror
of
my
own
ancestry
.
As
I
have
said
,
my
grandmother
and
Uncle
Douglas
had
always
disturbed
me
.
Now
,
years
after
their
passing
,
I
gazed
at
their
pictured
faces
with
a
measurably
heightened
feeling
of
repulsion
and
alienation
.
I
could
not
at
first
understand
the
change
,
but
gradually
a
horrible
sort
of
comparison
began
to
obtrude
itself
on
my
unconscious
mind
despite
the
steady
refusal
of
my
consciousness
to
admit
even
the
least
suspicion
of
it
.
It
was
clear
that
the
typical
expression
of
these
faces
now
suggested
something
it
had
not
suggested
before
--
something
which
would
bring
stark
panic
if
too
openly
thought
of
.
But
the
worst
shock
came
when
my
uncle
shewed
me
the
Orne
jewellery
in
a
downtown
safe
deposit
vault
.
Some
of
the
items
were
delicate
and
inspiring
enough
,
but
there
was
one
box
of
strange
old
pieces
descended
from
my
mysterious
great-grandmother
which
my
uncle
was
almost
reluctant
to
produce
.
They
were
,
he
said
,
of
very
grotesque
and
almost
repulsive
design
,
and
had
never
to
his
knowledge
been
publicly
worn
;
though
my
grandmother
used
to
enjoy
looking
at
them
.
Vague
legends
of
bad
luck
clustered
around
them
,
and
my
great-grandmother
's
French
governess
had
said
they
ought
not
to
be
worn
in
New
England
,
though
it
would
be
quite
safe
to
wear
them
in
Europe
.
As
my
uncle
began
slowly
and
grudgingly
to
unwrap
the
things
he
urged
me
not
to
be
shocked
by
the
strangeness
and
frequent
hideousness
of
the
designs
.
Artists
and
archaeologists
who
had
seen
them
pronounced
their
workmanship
superlatively
and
exotically
exquisite
,
though
no
one
seemed
able
to
define
their
exact
material
or
assign
them
to
any
specific
art
tradition
.
There
were
two
armlets
,
a
tiara
,
and
a
kind
of
pectoral
;
the
latter
having
in
high
relief
certain
figures
of
almost
unbearable
extravagance
.
During
this
description
I
had
kept
a
tight
rein
on
my
emotions
,
but
my
face
must
have
betrayed
my
mounting
fears
.
My
uncle
looked
concerned
,
and
paused
in
his
unwrapping
to
study
my
countenance
.
I
motioned
to
him
to
continue
,
which
he
did
with
renewed
signs
of
reluctance
.
He
seemed
to
expect
some
demonstration
when
the
first
piece
--
the
tiara
--
became
visible
,
but
I
doubt
if
he
expected
quite
what
actually
happened
.
I
did
not
expect
it
,
either
,
for
I
thought
I
was
thoroughly
forewarned
regarding
what
the
jewellery
would
turn
out
to
be
.
What
I
did
was
to
faint
silently
away
,
just
as
I
had
done
in
that
brier-choked
railway
cut
a
year
before
.
