As to her dress, I, little by little, became aware of two facts, for
whereas her gown was of a rough, coarse material such as domestic
servants wear, the stockinged foot that peeped at me beneath its hem
(her shoes were drying on the hearth) was clad in a silk so fine that I
could catch, through it, the gleam of the white flesh beneath. From
this apparent inconsistency I deduced that she was of educated tastes,
but poor—probably a governess, or, more likely still, taking her hands
into consideration, with their long, prehensile fingers, a teacher of
music, and was going on to explain to myself her present situation as
the outcome of Beauty, Poverty, and the Devil, when she sighed, glanced
toward the door, shivered slightly, and reaching her shoes from the
hearth prepared to slip them on.
"They are still very wet!" said I deprecatingly.
"Yes," she answered.
"Listen to the wind!" said I.
"It is terribly high."
"And it rains very hard!" said I.
"Yes," and she shivered again.
"It will be bad travelling for any one to-night," said I.
Charmian stared into the fire.
"Indeed, it would be madness for the strongest to stir abroad on such a
night."
Charmian stared into the fire.
"What with the wind and the rain the roads would be utterly impassable,
not to mention the risks of falling trees or shattered boughs."
Charmian shivered again.
"And the inns are all shut, long ago; to stir out, therefore, would be
the purest folly."
Charmian stared into the fire.
"On the other hand, here are a warm room, a good fire, and a very
excellent bed."
She neither spoke nor moved, only her eyes were raised suddenly and
swiftly to mine.
"Also," I continued, returning her look, "here, most convenient to your
hand, is a fine sharp knife, in case you are afraid of the ghost or any
other midnight visitant and so—good night, madam!" Saying which, I
took up one of the candles and crossed to the door of that room—which
had once been Donald's, but here I paused to glance back at her.
"Furthermore," said I, snuffing my candle with great nicety, "madam
need have no further qualms regarding the color of my hair and
eyes—none whatever."
Whereupon I bowed somewhat stiffly on account of my bruises, and, going
into my chamber, closed the door behind me.
Having made the bed (for since Donald's departure I had occupied my two
beds alternately) I undressed slowly, for my thumb was very painful;
also I paused frequently to catch the sound of the light, quick
footstep beyond the door, and the whisper of her garments as she walked.
"Charmian!" said I to myself when at length all was still, "Charmian!"
And I blew out my candle.
Outside, the souls of the unnumbered dead still rode the storm, and the
world was filled with their woeful lamentation. But, as I lay in the
dark, there came to me a faint perfume as of violets at evening-time,
elusive and very sweet, breathing of Charmian herself; and putting up
my hand, I touched the handkerchief that bound my brow.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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