We did not laugh; we did not even question her sanity; at least I did not; there was too much meaning in her manner.
“A specter,” her husband repeated with a suggestive glance at the brilliant sunshine in which we all stood.
“Yes.” The tone was one of utter conviction. “I had never believed in such things — never thought about them, but — it was a week ago — in the library — I have not seen a happy moment since —”
“My darling!”
“Yes, yes, I know; but imagine! I was sitting reading. I had just come from the nursery, and the memory of Laura’s good-night kiss was more in my mind than the story I was finishing when — oh, I can not think of it without a shudder! — the page before me seemed to recede and the words fade away in a blue mist; glancing up I beheld the outlines of a form between me and the lamp, which a moment before had been burning brightly. Outlines, Henry — I was conscious of no substance, and the eyes which met mine from that shadowy, blood-curdling Something were those of the grave and meant a grave for you or for me. Oh, I know what I say! There was no mistaking their look. As it burned into and through me, everything which had given reality to my life faded and seemed as far away and as unsubstantial as a dream. Nor has its power over me gone yet. I go about amongst you, I eat, I sleep, or try to; I greet men, talk with women, but it is all unreal, all phantasmagoric, even yourself and your love and, O God, my baby! What is real and distinctive, an absolute part of me and my life, is that shape from the dead, with its threatening eyes which pierce — pierce —”
She was losing her self-control. Her husband, with a soothing touch on her arm, brought her back to the present.
“You speak of a form,” he said, “a shadowy outline. The form of what? A man or a woman?”
“A man! a man!” With the exclamation she seemed to shrink into herself and her eyes, just now deprecating and appealing, took on a hollow stare, as if the vision she described had risen again before her.
In spite of himself and the sympathy he undoubtedly felt for her, an ejaculation of impatience left her husband’s lips. Obligations very far removed from the fantasies of a disturbed mind made these unsubstantial fears of hers seem puerile enough to this virile, outspoken man. No doubt she heard it, and to stop the matter-of-fact protest on his lips added quickly:
“Not the form, face and eyes of a man, as they usually appear. Hell was in his gaze and the message he gave, if it was a message, was one of disaster, if not death. Do you wonder that my happiness vanished before it? That I can not be myself since that dreadful day?”
The mayor was a practical man; he kept close to the subject.
“You saw this form between you and the lighted lamp. How long did it stay there and what became of it?”
“I can not tell you. One moment it was there and the next it was gone, and I found myself staring into vacancy. I seem to be staring there still, waiting for the blow destined to shatter this household.”
“Nonsense! give me a kiss and fix your thoughts on something more substantial. What we have to fear and all we have to fear is that I may lose my election. And that won’t kill me, whatever effect it may have on the party.”
“Henry,”— her voice had changed to one more natural, also her manner. The confidence expressed in this outburst, the vitality, the masculine attitude he took were producing their effect. “You don’t believe in what I saw or in my fears. Perhaps you are right. I am ready to acknowledge this; I will try to look upon it all as a freak of my imagination if you will promise to forget these dreadful days, and if people, other people, will leave me alone and not print such things about me.”
“I am ready to do my part,” was his glad reply, “and as for the other people you mention, we shall soon bring them to book.” Raising his voice, he called out his secretary’s name. As it rang loud and cheery down the hall, the joy and renewed life which had been visible in her manner lost some of their brightness.
“What are you going to do?” she gasped, with the quickness of doubt and strong if reasonless apprehension. “Give an order,” he explained; then, as the secretary appeared at our end of the hall, he held out the journal which he had taken from his wife and indicating the offensive paragraph, said:
“Find out who did that.”
Mr. Steele with a surprised look ran his eyes over the paragraph, knitting his brows as he did.
illustration
“It is calumny,” fell from Mrs. Packard’s lips as she watched him.
“Most certainly,” he assented, with an energy which brought a flush of pleasure to the humiliated woman’s cheek. “It will detain me two days or more to follow up this matter,” he remarked, with a look of inquiry directed at Mayor Packard.
“Never mind. Two days or a week, it is all one. I would rather lose votes than pass over such an insult. Pin me down the man who has dared attack me through my wife, and you will do me the greatest favor one man can show another.”
Mr. Steele bowed. “I can not forego the final consultation we had planned to hold on the train. May I ride down with you to the station?”
“Certainly; most happy.”
Mr. Steele withdrew, after casting a glance of entirely respectful sympathy at the woman who up to this hour had faced the world without a shadow between her and it; and, marking the lingering nature of the look with which the mayor now turned on his wife, I followed the secretary’s example and left them to enjoy their few last words alone.
Verily the pendulum of events swung wide and fast in this house.
This conclusion was brought back to me............