The drawn look in her sweet face went
to my heart, and I felt that I would do anything in the world to comfort
her. Though she had a book in her hand, I could see that she had not
been reading. The electric lamp on the table by her side was already
lighted, leaving the rest of the room in shadow, for it was a grey day
with a biting edge of snow in the air. It was all very charming in the
soft light; but as soon as I entered I had a feeling of oppression that
made me want to run out into the wind. If you have ever lived in a
haunted house--a house pervaded by an unforgettable past--you will
understand the sensation of melancholy that crept over me the minute the
shadows began to fall. It was not in myself--of this I am sure, for I
have naturally a cheerful temperament--it was in the space that
surrounded us and the air we breathed.
I explained to her about the letters, and then, kneeling on the rug in
front of her, I emptied the dust of the flowers into the fire. There
was, though I hate to confess it, a vindictive pleasure in watching it
melt into the flames and at the moment I believe I could have burned the
apparition as thankfully. The more I saw of the Other One, the more I
found myself accepting Hopkins' judgment of her. Yes, her behaviour,
living and dead, proved that she was not "a good sort.
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