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Page 11
He started from the strange presence, and caught at a post for support.
His self-possession was gone; he trembled like the most abject coward.
Only for a moment--and then, when he looked again, the apparition had
vanished.
"Good God!" he cried, putting his hand to his forehead. "Do the dead
indeed come back! I saw them take her from the river--O heaven! I saw her
when she sank beneath the terrible waters! Is there a hereafter, and does
a man sell his soul to damnation who commits what the world calls
murder?"
He stopped under a lamp and drew out his pocket-book, taking therefrom a
soiled scrap of paper.
"Yes, I have it here. 'Found drowned, the body of a woman. Her linen was
marked with the name of Arabel Vere. Another unfortunate--' No, I will
not read the rest. I have read it too often, now, for my peace of mind.
Yes, she is dead. There is no doubt. I have been dreaming to-night. Old
Trevlyn's wine was too strong for me. Arabel Vere, indeed! Pshaw! Paul
Linmere, are you an idiot?"
Not daring to cast a look behind him, he hurried home, and up to his
spacious parlor on the second floor.
Linmere turned up the gas into a flare, and, throwing off his coat, flung
himself into an arm-chair, and wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
He looked about the room with half-frightened, searching eyes. He dreaded
solitude, and he feared company, yet felt the necessity of speaking to
something. His eyes lighted on the greyhound dozing on the hearth-rug.
"Leo, Leo," he called, "come here, sir!"
The dog opened his eyes, but gave no responsive wag of his tail. You saw
at once that though Leo was Mr. Paul Linmere's property, and lived with
him, he did not have any attachment for him.
"Come here, sir!" said Linmere, authoritatively.
Still the animal did not stir. Linmere was nervous enough to be excited
to anger by the variest trifle, and the dog's disobedience aroused his
rage.
"Curse the brute!" he cried; and putting his foot against him, he sent
him spinning across the room. Leo did not growl, or cry out, but his
eyes gleamed like coals, and he showed his white teeth with savage but
impotent hatred. It was easy to see that if he had been a bulldog instead
of a greyhound, he would have torn Mr. Paul Linmere limb from limb.
Linmere went back to his chair, and sat down with a sullen face; but he
could not rest there. He rose, and going into an inner room, brought out
an ebony box, which he opened, and from which he took a miniature in a
golden case. He hesitated a moment before touching the spring, and when
he did so the unclosing revealed the face of a young girl--a fair young
girl in her early youth--not more than eighteen summers could have
scattered their roses over her, when that beautiful impression was taken.
A ripe southern face, with masses of jet-black hair, and dark brilliant
eyes. There was a dewy crimson on her lips, and her cheeks were red as
damask roses. A bright, happy face, upon which no blight had fallen.
"She was beautiful--beautiful as an houri!" said Mr. Paul Linmere,
speaking slowly, half unconsciously, it seemed, his thoughts aloud. "And
when I first knew her she was sweet and innocent. I made her sin. I led
her into the temptation she was too weak to resist. Women are soft and
silly when they are in love, and because of that, men have to bear all
the blame. She was willing to trust me--she ought to have been more
cautious. Who blames me, if I tired of her? A man does not always want
a moping complaining woman hanging about him; and she had a deuced
unpleasant way of forcing herself upon me when it was particularly
disagreeable to have her do so. Well--but there is no use in
retrospection. She was drowned--she and her unborn child, and
the dead can never come back--no, never!"
He sprang up and rang the bell sharply. Directly his valet, Pietro, a
sleepy-looking and swarthy Italian, appeared.
"Bring me a glass of brandy, Pietro; and look you, sir, you may sleep
to-night on the lounge in my room. I am not feeling quite well, and may
have need of you before morning."
The man looked surprised, but made no comment. He brought the stimulant,
his master drank it off, and then threw himself, dressed as he was, on
the bed.
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