Part 62 (1/2)

Mrs. Willoughby hesitated for a moment, but now perceived that Dacres was really speaking to her. ”He's in delirium,” she thought. ”Poor fellow, I must humor him, I suppose. But what a funny name to give me!”

So, after a little preparatory cough, Mrs. Willoughby said, in a low voice,

”What question?”

Dacres was silent for a few moments. He was overcome by his emotions.

He wished to ask her one question--the question of all questions in his mind. Already her acts had answered it sufficiently; but he longed to have the answer in her own words. Yet he hesitated to ask it. It was dishonor to her to ask it. And thus, between longing and hesitation, he delayed so long that Mrs. Willoughby imagined that he had fallen back into his dreams or into his delirium, and would say no more.

But at last Dacres staked every thing on the issue, and asked it:

”Arethusa! oh, Arethusa! do you--do you love--the--the Italian?”

”The Italian!” said Mrs. Willoughby--”love the Italian! me!” and then in a moment she thought that this was his delirium, and she must humor it. ”Poor fellow!” she sighed again; ”how he fought them! and no doubt he has had fearful blows on his head.”

”Do you? do you? Oh, answer, I implore you!” cried Dacres.

”No!” said Mrs. Willoughby, solemnly. ”I hate him as I never hated man before.” She spoke her mind this time, although she thought the other was delirious.

A sigh of relief and of happiness came from Dacres, so deep that it was almost a groan.

”And oh,” he continued, ”tell me this--have you ever loved him at all?”

”I always disliked him excessively,” said Mrs. Willoughby, in the same low and solemn tone. ”I saw something bad--altogether bad--in his face.”

”Oh, may Heaven forever bless you for that word!” exclaimed Dacres, with such a depth of fervor that Mrs. Willoughby was surprised. She now believed that he was intermingling dreams with realities, and tried to lead him to sense by reminding him of the truth.

”It was Minnie, you know, that he was fond of.”

”What! Minnie Fay?”

”Yes; oh yes. I never saw any thing of him.”

”Oh, Heavens!” cried Dacres; ”oh, Heavens, what a fool, beast, villain, and scoundrel I have been! Oh, how I have misjudged _you_!

And can _you_ forgive me? Oh, can you? But no--you can not.”

At this appeal Mrs. Willoughby was startled, and did not know what to say or to do. How much of this was delirium and how much real she could not tell. One thing seemed evident to her, and that was that, whether delirious or not, he took her for another person. But she was so full of pity for him, and so very tender-hearted, that her only idea was to ”humor” him.

”Oh,” he cried again, ”can this all be true, and have all my suspicions been as mad as these last? And _you_--how _you_ have changed! How beautiful you are! What tenderness there is in your glance--what a pure and gentle and touching grace there is in your expression! I swear to you, by Heaven! I have stood gazing at you in places where you have not seen me, and thought I saw heaven in your face, and wors.h.i.+ped you in my inmost soul. This is the reason why I have followed you. From the time I saw you when you came into the room at Naples till this night I could not get rid of your image. I fought against the feeling, but I can not overcome it. Never, never were you half so dear as you are now!”

Now, of course, that was all very well, considered as the language of an estranged husband seeking for reconciliation with an estranged wife; but when one regards it simply as the language of a pa.s.sionate lover directed to a young and exceedingly pretty widow, one will perceive that it was _not_ all very well, and that under ordinary circ.u.mstances it might create a sensation.

Upon Mrs. Willoughby the sensation was simply tremendous. She had begun by ”humoring” the delirious man; but now she found his delirium taking a course which was excessively embarra.s.sing. The worst of it was, there was truth enough in his language to increase the embarra.s.sment. She remembered at once how the mournful face of this man had appeared before her in different places. Her thoughts instantly reverted to that evening on the balcony when his pale face appeared behind the fountain. There was truth in his words; and her heart beat with extraordinary agitation at the thought. Yet at the same time there was some mistake about it all; and he was clearly delirious.

”Oh, Heavens!” he cried. ”Can you ever forgive me? Is there a possibility of it? Oh, can you forgive me? Can you--can you?”

He was clearly delirious now. Her heart was full of pity for him. He was suffering too. He was bound fast. Could she not release him? It was terrible for this man to lie there bound thus. And perhaps he had fallen into the hands of these ruffians while trying to save _her_ and her sister. She must free him.

”Would you like to be loosed?” she asked, coming nearer. ”Shall I cut your bonds?”

She spoke in a low whisper.