The House in the Mist by Anna Katherine Green
Author:Anna Katherine Green
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781620119600
Publisher: Duke Classics
IV - The Final Shock
*
Her baby had fallen asleep. I knew this by the faint, low sweetness of her croon; and, shuddering with the horrors I had witnessed, horrors which acquired a double force from the contrast presented by the peace of this quiet spot and the hallowing influence of the sleeping infant,âI threw myself down in the darkness at her feet, gasping out:
"Oh, thank God and your uncle's seeming harshness, that you have escaped the doom which has overtaken those others! You and your babe are still alive; while theyâ"
"What of them? What has happened to them? You are breathless, trembling; you have brought no breadâ"
"No, no. Food in this house means death. Your relatives gave food and wine to your uncle at a supper; he, though now in his grave, has returned the same to them. There was a bottleâ"
I stopped, appalled. A shriek, muffled by distance but quivering with the same note of death I had heard before, had gone up again from the other side of the wall against which we were leaning.
"Oh!" she gasped; "and my father was at that supper! my father, who died last night cursing the day he was born! We are an accursed race. I have known it all my life; perhaps that was why I mistook passion for love; and my babyâ O God, have mercy! God have mercy!"
The plaintiveness of that cry, the awesomeness of what I had seenâof what was going on at that moment almost within the reach of our armsâthe darkness, the desolation of our two souls, affected me as I had never been affected in my whole life before. In the concentrated experience of the last two hours I seemed to live years under this woman's eyes; to know her as I did my own heart; to love her as I did my own soul. No growth of feeling ever brought the ecstasy of that moment's inspiration. With no sense of doing anything strange, with no fear of being misunderstood, I reached out my hand and, touching hers where it lay clasped about her infant, I said:
"We are two poor wayfarers. A rough road loses half its difficulties when trodden by two. Shall we, then, fare on togetherâwe and the little child?"
She gave a sob; there was sorrow, longing, grief, hope, in its thrilling low sound. As I recognized the latter emotion I drew her to my breast. The child did not separate us.
"We shall be happy," I murmured, and her sigh seemed to answer a delicious "Yes," when suddenly there came a shock to the partition against which we leaned and, starting from my clasp, she cried:
"Our duty is in there. Shall we think of ourselves or even of each other while these men, all relatives of mine, are dying on the other side of this wall?"
Seizing my hand, she dragged me to the trap; but here I took the lead, and helped her down the ladder. When I had her safely on the
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