"Stay!" I almost shouted, springing up, and the suddenness of my
excitement intimidated her. "How do you know that Lord Clarenceux is
dead?"
I stood before her, trembling with apprehension for the effect of the
disclosure I was about to make. She was puzzled and alarmed by the
violent change in me, but she controlled herself.
"How do I know?" she repeated with strange mildness.
"Yes, how do you know? Did you see him die?"
I had a wild desire to glance over my shoulder at the portrait.
"No, my friend. But I saw him after he was dead. He died suddenly in
Vienna. Don't let us talk about that."
"Aha!" I laughed incredulously, and then, swiftly driven forward by an
overpowering impulse, I dropped on my knees and seized her hands with
a convulsive grasp. "Rosa! Rosa!"--my voice nearly broke--"you must
know that I love you. Say that you love me--that you would love me
whether Clarenceux were dead or alive."
An infinite tenderness shone in her face. She put out her hand, and to
calm me stroked my hair.
"Carl!" she whispered.
It was enough. I got up. I did not kiss her.
A servant entered, and said that some one from the theatre had called
to see mademoiselle on urgent business. Excusing herself, Rosa went
out. I held open the door for her, and closed it slowly with a sigh of
incredible relief. Then I turned back into the room. I was content to
be alone for a little while.
Great God! The chair which Rosa had but that instant left was not
empty. Occupying it was a figure--the figure of the man whose portrait
hung on the wall--the figure of the man who had haunted me ever since
I met Rosa--the figure of Lord Clarenceux, whom Rosa had seen dead.
At last, oh, powers of hell, I knew you! The inmost mystery stood
clear. In one blinding flash of comprehension I felt the fullness of
my calamity. This man that I had seen was not a man, but a malign and
jealous spirit--using his spectral influences to crush the mortals
bold enough to love the woman whom he had loved on earth. The death of
Alresca, the unaccountable appearances in the cathedral, in the train,
on the steamer--everything was explained. And before that coldly
sneering, triumphant face, which bore the look of life, and which I
yet knew to be impalpable, I shook with the terrified ague of a
culprit.
A minute or a thousand years might have passed. Then Rosa returned. In
an instant the apparition had vanished. But by her pallid, drawn face
and her gray lips I knew that she had seen it. Truly she was cursed,
and I with her!