|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 29
"I see a troubled face when I should see a happy one," he answered
lightly; then, as she still clung in very evident question to his
arm, he observed gravely: "Two weeks ago you were the life of this
house, and of every other house into which your duties carried you.
Why shouldn't you be the same to-day? Answer me that, dear, and
all my doubts will vanish, I assure you."
"Henry,"--drooping her head and lacing her fingers in and out with
nervous hesitation,--"you will think me very foolish,--I know that
it will sound foolish, childish even, and utterly ridiculous; but
I can explain myself no other way. I have had a frightful
experience--here--in my own house--on the spot where I have been
so happy, so unthinkingly happy. Henry--do not laugh--it is real,
very real, to me. The specter which is said to haunt these walls
has revealed itself to me. I have seen the ghost."
CHAPTER IX
SCRAPS
We did not laugh; we did not even question her sanity; at least I
did not; there was too much meaning in her manner.
"A specter," her husband repeated with a suggestive glance at the
brilliant sunshine in which we all stood.
"Yes." The tone was one of utter conviction. "I had never
believed in such things--never thought about them, but--it was a
week ago--in the library--I have not seen a happy moment since--"
"My darling!"
"Yes, yes, I know; but imagine! I was sitting reading. I had just
come from the nursery, and the memory of Laura's good-night kiss
was more in my mind than the story I was finishing when--oh, I can
not think of it without a shudder!--the page before me seemed to
recede and the words fade away in a blue mist; glancing up I beheld
the outlines of a form between me and the lamp. which a moment
before had been burning brightly. Outlines, Henry,--I was
conscious of no substance, and the eyes which met mine from that
shadowy, blood-curdling Something were those of the grave and meant
a grave for you or for me. Oh, I know what I say! There was no
mistaking their look. As it burned into and through me, everything
which had given reality to my life faded and seemed as far away and
as unsubstantial as a dream. Nor has its power over me gone yet.
I go about amongst you, I eat, I sleep, or try to; I greet men,
talk with women, but it is all unreal, all phantasmagoric, even
yourself and your love and, O God, my baby! What is real and
distinctive, an absolute part of me and my life, is that shape from
the dead, with its threatening eyes which pierce--pierce--"
She was losing her self-control. Her husband, with a soothing
touch on her arm, brought her back to the present.
"You speak of a form," he said, "a shadowy outline. The form of
what? A man or a woman?"
"A man! a man!" With the exclamation she seemed to shrink into
herself and her eyes, just now deprecating and appealing, took on
a hollow stare, as if the vision she described had risen again
before her.
In spite of himself and the sympathy he undoubtedly felt for her,
an ejaculation of impatience left her husband's lips. Obligations
very far removed from the fantasies of a disturbed mind made these
unsubstantial fears of hers seem puerile enough to this virile,
outspoken man. No doubt she heard it, and to stop the matter-of-
fact protest on his lips added quickly:
"Not the form, face and eyes of a man, as they usually appear. Hell
was in his gaze and the message he gave, if it was a message, was one
of disaster, if not death. Do you wonder that my happiness vanished
before it? That I can not be myself since that dreadful day?"
The mayor was a practical man; he kept close to the subject.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|