He strode forward to follow her, but to his amazement, when he reached
the place, she seemed to vanish absolutely in front of his eyes, and
although he lit a match and searched everywhere, not the slightest trace
of her could he find, and there was no opening or possible corner into
which she could have disappeared.
Absolutely dumbfounded, he groped his way back to the bench, and sitting
down buried his head in his hands. Surely it was all a dream, then, and
he had been drunk--with the Professor's Falernian wine--and had wandered
here and slept. But, God of all the nights, what an exquisite dream!
CHAPTER XVIII
The half-moon set, and the night became much darker before John
Derringham rose from his seat by the bench. A stupor had fallen upon
him. He had ceased to reason. Then he got up and made his way back to
the orchard house, under the myriads of pale stars, which shone with
diminished brilliancy from the luminous, summer night sky.
Here he seemed to grow material again and to realize that he was indeed
awake. But what had happened to him? Whether he had been dreaming or no,
a spell had fallen upon him--he had drunk of the poison cup.
Pages:
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210