Tenebrae: A Novel (Valancourt Classics) by Ernest G. Henham

Author:Ernest G. Henham [Henham, Ernest G.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Valancourt Books
Published: 2012-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

For the first time she looked me straight in the eyes. The rich stain died away from her face, which was now firm and resolute, almost fierce.

‘You have lost your brother,’ she said.

We were all by ourselves within the glorious sunshine, with the wind sweeping upward from the sea. That sea, so tranquil and smiling, which was yet the grave of so many.

‘My brother!’ I gasped.

Again that memory, which was now commencing to accumulate substance, raised its hideous face between me and her I loved. It pursued me, most faithful of satellites. When I bent forward, that I might look again into her face, I saw not her, but—It.

‘You loved him,’ she continued, while her voice was cold and hard.

‘But he is dead,’ I cried. ‘Surely he is—we have heard nothing. You cannot know what I have suffered for his loss. I loved him—yes, I loved but one better.’

‘And for the sake of that person you would do anything?’ she asked.

Did she know? but that was clearly impossible. This was meant for no accusation, as her head was bent, and her posture that of sorrow. She was but trying to plumb the depths of my heart.

‘Yes,’ I answered wildly. ‘Anything that might not be barred by the laws of justice. Anything else.’

Her lashes lifted slightly, and I noticed the direction of her glance. It was towards the clenched fist of my left hand. Why did she look there—why? Then I remembered the sign, the red lines, the entire configuration of that hand. Again—had she cause for suspicion? But the deed had been committed with such complete secrecy. Nobody could have guessed the author, except the old woman who had just left the earth. At that moment I could feel glad that she was dead.

We had reached a spot where the road branched, and here she stopped. ‘I must leave you now. Please do not offer to come with me.’

‘But there is one thing,’ I said. ‘You have guessed my sorrow, am I not to learn yours?’

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