The Mystery of M. FelixFarjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
General
The Mystery of M. Felix
Farjeon, B. L. (Benjamin Leopold)
Detective and mystery stories; English fiction -- 19th century
The report was not favorable; Emilia was prostrate, and now that the
strain was over a dangerous reaction had set in. The doctor gave it as
his opinion that she would not be well for weeks, and so it proved.
But long before she was convalescent Gerald, accompanied by Leonard,
made his appearance, and thus the unfortunate girl had near her one
enemy and three friends. Which side would triumph in the end?
CHAPTER XXXI.
LIGHT SHINES THROUGH THE DARK CLOUDS.
Leonard cursed his ill luck, cursed Gerald for his infatuation, cursed
Emilia for stepping in to spoil his plans, cursed the wagoner and his
wife for their kindness toward her--in short, cursed everything and
everybody except himself, whom he regarded as the person who was being
wronged in the affair. But he wore a constant smile upon his lips, his
words were honey, and the consideration he expressed for Emilia was
perfect in its way. Sometimes when he spoke of her it was in a choked
voice, and he was certainly successful in deceiving everyone around
him. His one hope now was that Emilia would die, and could he have
done so without risk to himself, he would cheerfully have given her a
cup of poison to bring about that consummation.
Gerald's great grief was that Emilia did not recognize him. Indeed,
she knew no one. Even when she was able to move about her mind was a
blank. She allowed him to take her hand in his, and to retain it, but
to the tender pressure of his fingers she made no response. They took
woodland rambles together, hand in hand, and she gathered wild flowers
which she arranged afterward in the cottage. She listened to all he
said, nodding her head gently from time to time in a manner which made
his heart beat with hope that she understood what he was speaking of.
Of course the subject-matter, when originated by Gerald, was personal.
He dilated upon his love for her, and explained again and again how it
was that he had not come to her the day after the fire; and when he
finished she gazed at him with a pitiful smile on her lips and a
vacant look in her eyes, which proved too well that his words had
fallen upon ears insensible to their meaning. Upon abstract matters
she was more intelligent. She loved the animals about the cottage, and
the dumb creatures loved her and obeyed her least motion; she loved
the flowers that were gathered, but Gerald observed with pain that she
tended with care only those she gathered herself. When he gave her any
she accepted them gently, but presently they dropped from her hand,
and she made no effort to pick them up. "I have wrecked her reason,"
he groaned. "Monster that I am, I have ruined my dear girl's life!" As
for Leonard, he derived some satisfaction from what was transpiring.
"She is drifting into a confirmed idiot," he thought. "It is not so
good as getting rid of her altogether, but I am grateful for small
mercies."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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