The Ashiel mystery : $b a detective storyBryce, Marion
General
The Ashiel mystery : $b a detective story
Bryce, Marion
Detective and mystery stories; Fiction
"Don't think of him any more," she said. "Presently you will hate
yourself for having cared for a murderer. Just now, I know, your love for
him makes you gloss over his crimes, but when you are yourself you will
see how odious they are. Poor Julia, I hate to hurt you so, but it is
better, isn't it, that you should know? You will forget this madness. He
is not worth your wasting another thought on. Think how shamefully he has
deceived you. Think of all his lying words, of how he told you he had
never looked at another woman."
Julia raised her head and showed a face, white as chalk, in which the
great brown eyes seemed to burn like fires of hatred.
"Yes," she said in a hard, even voice. "I am thinking of it. I shall not
forget him. No. Instead, I shall think of him day and night, be sure of
that. I shall laugh as I think of him; laugh at the thought of him in
his place in the dock, or in his prison cell. I shall laugh when I give
my evidence against him, and most of all I shall laugh on the day when he
is hanged. If his grave is to be found, I shall dance upon it. Oh, it
will be a merry day for me, that day when the cord is tightened round his
false neck!"
She went near to Mark, and hissed the last words into his face, leaning
forward, with one hand on her own throat. But he seemed to shrink less
before her vindictive passion than he had under the colder scorn of
Juliet's denunciations.
"Come, Juliet," said Julia, calming herself a little, although hate was
still blazing in her eyes, "let us leave this place. We must send for
the police."
"Julia," said Mark, stepping forward, and speaking with some of his
former assurance, "you condemn me unheard. Why should you believe this
girl before me? It is not like you, Julia. It is not like the girl I
love. For I do love you, darling, in spite of what you may think; and,
till a few moments ago, I thought you loved me too. But I see now what
your love is. One whiff of suspicion, one word of accusation, and without
proof or evidence you condemn me, and your so-called affection
disappears. Julia, I think you have broken my heart."
Juliet gave vent to a derisive sound which can only be called a snort;
but it was plain that his words, and more especially the manner of sad
yet tender reproach in which they were uttered, were not without their
effect on the other girl. Her eyes wavered uneasily; she twisted and tore
at her handkerchief.
"I have heard what you have to say," she murmured. "I saw that you could
not deny what Juliet told me."
"I did deny it. But what is the use of talking to you when you are in
such a state? You are determined beforehand to disbelieve me. And I have
no wish to justify myself to Miss Byrne, though I am willing to swallow
my pride and do so to you."
"Well," she said after a moment's hesitation, "justify yourself if you
can. No one shall say I would not listen. God knows I shall be glad
enough if you can clear yourself."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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