Miranda of the Balcony: A StoryMason, A. E. W. (Alfred Edward Woodley)
General
Miranda of the Balcony: A Story
Mason, A. E. W. (Alfred Edward Woodley)
Fiction
"My God, she's dead!" whispered Warriner. "We should have sent word of
our coming. We have killed her," and then he stopped. For Charnock was
standing by the side of Miranda and talking down to her as she lay, in
a low, soft, chiding voice.
"Come," he was saying, "it's what you wished. You will be glad when
you have time to think over it and understand. There is no reason why
you should--"
This intimate talking with the lifeless woman came upon Warriner as
something horrible. "Man, can't you see?" he whispered hoarsely.
"She's dead, Miranda is. We have killed her, you and I."
Charnock slowly turned his head towards Warriner and looked at him
steadily with his eyebrows drawn down over his eyes. Somehow Warriner
was frightened by that glance; he felt a chill creep down his spine;
he was more frightened than even on that morning when Charnock
threatened to sell him outside Alkasar. "She's dead, I tell you," he
babbled, and so was silent.
Charnock looked back to Miranda, sank upon one knee by her side, and
bending his head down began to whisper to her exhortations, gentle
reproaches at her lack of courage, and between his words he smiled at
her as at a wayward child.
"There is no reason to fear," the uncanny talk went on; "and it hurts
us! You don't know how much. You might as well speak, not be like
this--pretending." He reached over her and took her hand, cherished it
in his own, and entwined his fingers with her fingers and then
laughed, as though her fingers had responded to his own. "You are
rather cruel, you know."
Warriner moved uneasily. "Charnock, I tell you Miranda's--"
Charnock flung his other arm across her body and crouched over it,
glaring at Warriner like a beast about to spring.
"And I tell you she's not, she's not, she's not!" he hissed out.
"Dead!" and suddenly he lifted up Miranda's head, held it in the
hollow of his arm and kissed the face upon the forehead and the lips.
"Dead?" and he broke out into a laugh. "Is she? I'll show you. Come!
Come!" He forced his disengaged arm underneath her waist, and putting
all his strength into the swing lifted himself on to his feet, and
lifted Miranda with him. "Now don't you see?" Warriner was standing,
his mouth open, his eyes contracted; there was more than horror
expressed in them, there was terror besides.
"Don't you see?" cried Charnock, in a wild triumph. "Perhaps you are
blind. Are you blind, Ralph Warriner?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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