The Tenants of Malory, Volume 2Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan
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The Tenants of Malory, Volume 2
Le Fanu, Joseph Sheridan
Mystery fiction
Up the avenue, up the steps, into the hall, and, taking chance, into
this room, walked Cleve Verney, without encountering interruption or
even observation. _Fortuna favet fortibus_, so runs the legend in faded
gold letters, under the dim portrait of Sir Thomas Verney, in his
armour, fixed in the panel of the hall. So it had proved with his
descendant.
Favoured by fortune, without having met a human being, and directed by
the same divinity it would seem, he had entered the room I have
described; and at the other end, alone, awaiting Miss Sheckleton, who
was to accompany her in a little ramble among the woods, stood Miss
Fanshawe, dressed for her walk.
In came Cleve pale with agitation; approached her quickly, and stopped
short, saying--
"I've come; I'm here to ask--how could you--my God!--how _could_ you
write the letter you sent this morning?"
Miss Fanshawe was leaning a little against the oak window-frame, and
did not change this pose, which was haughty and almost sullen.
"_Why_ I wrote that letter, _no_ one has a right to ask me, and I shall
say no more than is contained in the letter itself." She spoke so coldly
and quietly that there seemed almost a sadness in her tones.
"I don't think you can really mean it," said Cleve, "I'm _sure_ you
can't; you can't _possibly_ think that any one would use another so,
without a reason."
"_Not_ without a reason," said she.
"But I say, surely I have a right to hear it," urged Cleve. "Is it fair
to condemn me, as your letter does, unheard, and to punish me, in
ignorance?"
"_Not_ in ignorance; at this moment, you _know_ the reason perfectly,"
replied the girl, and he felt as if her great hazel eyes lighted up all
the dark labyrinths of his brain, and disclosed every secret that lurked
there.
Cleve was for a moment embarrassed, and averted his eyes. It was true.
He _did_ know; he could not fail to guess the cause. He had been cursing
his ill luck all the morning, and wondering what malign caprice could
have led her, of all times and places, at that moment, to the Green of
Cardyllian.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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