第127章

The men went out shooting directly after breakfast, and we women passed the day in orthodox country-house fashion,--working and eating; walking and riding; driving and playing croquet; and above, beyond, and through all things, chattering.Beyond a passing sigh while I was washing my hands, or a moment of mournful remembrance while I changed my dress, I had scarcely time even to regret the quiet happiness of the week that was past.In the evening we danced in the great hall.I had two valses with Alan.During a pause for breath, I found that we were standing near the fireplace, on the very spot where he and George had stood on the previous afternoon.The recollection made me involuntarily glance up at his face.It looked sad and worried, and the thought suddenly struck me that his extravagant spirits of the night before, and even his quieter, careful cheerfulness of to-night, had been but artificial moods at best.He turned, and finding my eyes fixed on him, at once plunged into conversation, discussed the peculiarities of one of the guests, good-humoredly enough, but with so much fun as to make me laugh in spite of myself.Then we danced again.The plaintive music, the smooth floor, and the partner were all alike perfect, and I experienced that entire delight of physical enjoyment which I believe nothing but a valse under such circumstances can give.When it was over I turned to Alan, and exclaimed with impulsive appeal, "Oh, I am so happy,--you must be happy too!" He smiled rather uncertainly, and answered, "Don't bother yourself about me, Evie, I am all right.I told you that we Mervyns had bad nerves; and I am rather tired.That's all." I was too passionately determined just then upon happiness, and his was too necessary to mine for me not to believe that he was speaking the truth.

We kept up the dancing till Lucy discovered with a shock that midnight had struck, and that Sunday had begun, and we were all sent off to bed.I was not long in making my nightly preparations, and had scarcely inserted myself between the sheets when, with a few long moans, the wind began again, more violently even than the night before.It had been a calm, fine day, and I made wise reflections as I listened upon the uncertainty of the north-country climate.What a tempest it was! How it moaned, and howled, and shrieked! Where had I heard the superstition which now came to my mind, that borne upon the wind come the spirits of the drowned, wailing and crying for the sepulture which had been denied them?

But there were other sounds in that wind, too.Evil, murderous thoughts, perhaps, which had never taken body in deeds, but which, caught up in the air, now hurled themselves in impotent fury through the world.How I wished the wind would stop.It seemed full of horrible fancies, and it kept knocking them into my head, and it wouldn't leave off.Fancies, or memories--which?--and my mind reverted with a flash to the fearful thoughts which had haunted it the day before in Dame Alice's tower.It was dark now.

Those ghastly intangible shapes must have taken full form and color, peopling the old ruin with their ageless hideousness.And the storm had found them there and borne them along with it as it blew through the creviced walls.That was why the wind's sound struck so strangely on my brain.Ah! I could hear them now, those still living memories of dead horror.Through the window crannies they came shrieking and wailing.They filled the chimney with spirit sobs, and now they were pressing on, crowding through the room,--eager, eager to reach their prey.Nearer they came;--nearer still! They were round my bed now! Through my closed eyelids Icould almost see their dreadful shapes; in all my quivering flesh Ifelt their terrors as they bent over me,--lower, lower....

With a start I aroused myself and sat up.Was I asleep or awake?

I was trembling all over still, and it required the greatest effort of courage I had ever made to enable me to spring from my bed and strike a light.What a state my nerves or my digestion must be in!

From my childhood the wind had always affected me strangely, and Iblamed myself now for allowing my imagination to run away with me at the first.I found a novel which I had brought up to my room with me, one of the modern, Chinese-American school, where human nature is analyzed with the patient, industrious indifference of the true Celestial.I took the book to bed with me, and soon under its soothing influences fell asleep.I dreamt a good deal,--nightmares, the definite recollection of which, as is so often the case, vanished from my mind as soon as I awoke, leaving only a vague impression of horror.They had been connected with the wind, of that alone I was conscious, and I went down to breakfast, maliciously hoping that others' rest had been as much disturbed as my own.

To my surprise, however, I found that I had again been the only sufferer.Indeed, so impressed were most of the party with the quiet in which their night had been passed, that they boldly declared my storm to have been the creature of my dreams.There is nothing more annoying when you feel yourself aggrieved by fate than to be told that your troubles have originated in your own fancy; so I dropped the subject.Though the discussion spread for a few minutes round the whole table, Alan took no part in it.Neither did George, except for what I thought a rather unnecessarily rough expression of his disbelief in the cause of my night's disturbance.

As we rose from breakfast I saw Alan glance towards his brother, and make a movement, evidently with the purpose of speaking to him.