And yet, from a stray word or two, which were pronounced more
distinctly, he did not seem to be thinking in anger over that
interview; but it would appear that it rather had recalled to his
remembrance circumstances of a painful and a degrading nature, which
time had not been able entirely to obliterate from his recollection.
“Yes, yes,” he said, as he paused upon the margin of the wood, to the
confines of which he, or what seemed to be he, had once been chased
by Marchdale and the Bannerworths—“yes, the very sight of that man
recalls all the frightful pageantry of a horrible tragedy, which I can
never—never forget. Never can it escape my memory, as a horrible, a
terrific fact; but it is the sight of this man alone that can recall
all its fearful minutiæ to my mind, and paint to my imagination, in the
most vivid colours, every, the least particular connected with that
time of agony. These periodical visits much affect me. For months I
dread them, and for months I am but slowly recovering from the shocks
they give me. ‘But once more,’ he says—‘but once more,’ and then we
shall not meet again. Well, well; perchance before that time arrives, I
may be able to possess myself of those resources which will enable me
to forestall his visit, and so at least free myself from the pang of
expecting him.”
He paused at the margin of the wood, and glanced in the direction of
Bannerworth Hall. By the dim light which yet showed from out the light
sky, he could discern the ancient gable ends, and turret-like windows;
he could see the well laid out gardens, and the grove of stately firs
that shaded it from the northern blasts, and, as he gazed, a strong
emotion seemed to come over him, such as no one could have supposed
would for one moment have possessed the frame of one so apparently
unconnected with all human sympathies.
“I know this spot well,” he said, “and my appearance here on that
eventful occasion, when the dread of my approach induced a crime only
second to murder itself, was on such a night as this, when all was so
still and calm around, and when he who, at the merest shadow of my
presence, rather chose to rush on death than be assured it was myself.
Curses on the circumstances that so foiled me! I should have been most
wealthy. I should have possessed the means of commanding the adulation
of those who now hold me but cheaply; but still the time may come. I
have a hope yet, and that greatness which I have ever panted for, that
magician-like power over my kind, which the possession of ample means
alone can give, may yet be mine.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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