The railings about the
plots were prostrate, decayed, or altogether gone.
Many of the graves were sunken, from others grew
sturdy pines, whose roots had committed unspeak-
able sin. The headstones were fallen and broken
across; brambles overran the ground; the fence was
mostly gone, and cows and pigs wandered there at
will; the place was a dishonour to the living, a
calumny on the dead, a blasphemy against God.
The evening of the day on which I had taken my
madman's resolution to depart in anger from all
that was dear to me found me in that congenial
spot. The light of the half moon fell ghostly through
the foliage of trees in spots and patches, revealing
much that was unsightly, and the black shadows
seemed conspiracies withholding to the proper time
revelations of darker import. Passing along what
had been a gravel path, I saw emerging from shadow
the figure of Dr. Dorrimore. I was myself in shadow,
and stood still with clenched hands and set teeth,
trying to control the impulse to leap upon and stran-
gle him. A moment later a second figure joined him
and clung to his arm. It was Margaret Corray!
I cannot rightly relate what occurred. I know
that I sprang forward, bent upon murder; I know
that I was found in the grey of the morning, bruised
and bloody, with finger marks upon my throat. I
was taken to the Putnam House, where for days
I lay in a delirium. All this I know, for I have been
told.
Pages:
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197