The Woman in BlackBentley, E. C. (Edmund Clerihew)
General
The Woman in Black
Bentley, E. C. (Edmund Clerihew)
Detective and mystery stories; Trent, Philip (Fictitious character) -- Fiction
She shook her head slowly, and something in the gesture shattered the
last remnants of Trent's self-possession. "Haven't you, by God!" he
exclaimed, rising with a violent movement and advancing a step towards
her. "Then I am going to show you that human passion is not always
stifled by the smell of money. I am going to end the business--my
business. I am going to tell you what I dare say scores of better men
have wanted to tell you, but couldn't summon up what I have summoned
up--the infernal cheek to do it. They were afraid of making fools of
themselves. I am not. You have accustomed me to the feeling this
afternoon." He laughed aloud in his rush of words, and spread out his
hands. "Look at me! It is the sight of the century! It is the one who
says he loves you, and would ask you to give up very great wealth to
stand at his side."
She was hiding her face in her hands. He heard her say brokenly:
"Please ... don't speak in that way."
He answered: "It will make a great difference to me if you will allow me
to say all I have to say before I leave you. Perhaps it is in bad taste,
but I will risk that--I want to relieve my soul, it needs open
confession. This is the truth. You have troubled me ever since the first
time I saw you--and you did not know it--as you sat under the edge of
the cliff at Marlstone and held out your arms to the sea. It was only
your beauty that filled my mind then. As I passed by you it seemed as if
all the life in the place were crying out a song about you in the wind
and the sunshine. And the song stayed in my ears; but even your beauty
would be no more than an empty memory to me by now if that had been all.
It was when I led you from the hotel there to your house, with your hand
on my arm, that--what was it that happened? I only knew that your
stronger magic had struck home, and that I never should forget that day,
whatever the love of my life should be. Till that day I had admired as I
should admire the loveliness of a still lake; but that day I felt the
spell of the divinity of the lake. And next morning the waters were
troubled, and she rose--the morning when I came to you with my
questions, tired out with doubts that were as bitter as pain, and when I
saw you without your pale, sweet mask of composure--when I saw you moved
and glowing, with your eyes and your hands alive, and when you made me
understand that for such a creature as you there had been emptiness and
the mere waste of yourself for so long. Madness rose in me then, and my
spirit was clamoring to say what I say at last now--that life would
never seem a full thing again because you could not love me, that I was
taken forever in the nets of your black hair and by the incantation of
your voice--"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account