had not yet returned,said, with a grim decision which the servants noted:
'I shall come again. My news is solid--it can wait!' and turned away.Week after week went by, and month after month; and then there came arumour, certified later on, that an accident had occurred in theZermatt valley. Whilst crossing a dangerous pass the carriagecontaining an English lady and the driver had fallen over a precipice,the gentleman of the party, Mr. Geoffrey Brent, having beenfortunately saved as he had been walking up the hill to ease thehorses. He gave information, and search was made. The broken rail, theexcoriated roadway, the marks where the horses had struggled on thedecline before finally pitching over into the torrent--all told thesad tale. It was a wet season, and there had been much snow in thewinter, so that the river was swollen beyond its usual volume, and theeddies of the stream were packed with ice. All search was made, andfinally the wreck of the carriage and the body of one horse were foundin an eddy of the river. Later on the body of the driver was found onthe sandy, torrent-swept waste near Taesch; but the body of the lady,like that of the other horse, had quite disappeared, and was--whatwas left of it by that time--whirling amongst the eddies of the Rhoneon its way down to the Lake of Geneva.
Wykham Delandre made all the enquiries possible, but could not findany trace of the missing woman. He found, however, in the books of thevarious hotels the name of 'Mr. and Mrs. Geoffrey Brent'. And he had astone erected at Zermatt to his sister's memory, under her marriedname, and a tablet put up in the church at Bretten, the parish inwhich both Brent's Rock and Dander's Croft were situated.
There was a lapse of nearly a year, after the excitement of the matterhad worn away, and the whole neighbourhood had gone on its accustomedway. Brent was still absent, and Delandre more drunken, more morose,and more revengeful than before.
Then there was a new excitement. Brent's Rock was being made ready fora new mistress. It was officially announced by Geoffrey himself in aletter to the Vicar, that he had been married some months before to anItalian lady, and that they were then on their way home. Then a smallarmy of workmen invaded the house; and hammer and plane sounded, and ageneral air of size and paint pervaded the atmosphere. One wing of theold house, the south, was entirely re-done; and then the great body ofthe workmen departed, leaving only materials for the doing of the oldhall when Geoffrey Brent should have returned, for he had directedthat the decoration was only to be done under his own eyes. He hadbrought with him accurate drawings of a hall in the house of hisbride's father, for he wished to reproduce for her the place to whichshe had been accustomed. As the moulding had all to be re-done, somescaffolding poles and boards were brought in and laid on one side ofthe great hall, and also a great wooden tank or box for mixing thelime, which was laid in bags beside it.
When the new mistress of Brent's Rock arrived the bells of the churchrang out, and there was a general jubilation. She was a beautifulcreature, full of the poetry and fire and passion of the South; andthe few English words which she had learned were spoken in such asweet and pretty broken way that she won the hearts of the peoplealmost as much by the music of her voice as by the melting beauty ofher dark eyes.
Geoffrey Brent seemed more happy than he had ever before appeared; butthere was a dark, anxious look on his face that was new to those whoknew him of old, and he started at times as though at some noise thatwas unheard by others.
And so months passed and the whisper grew that at last Brent's Rockwas to have an heir. Geoffrey was very tender to his wife, and the newbond between them seemed to soften him. He took more interest in histenants and their needs than he had ever done; and works of charity onhis part as well as on his sweet young wife's were not lacking. Heseemed to have set all his hopes on the child that was coming, and ashe looked deeper into the future the dark shadow that had come overhis face seemed to die gradually away.
All the time Wykham Delandre nursed his revenge. Deep in his heart hadgrown up a purpose of vengeance which only waited an opportunity tocrystallise and take a definite shape. His vague idea was somehowcentred in the wife of Brent, for he knew that he could strike himbest through those he loved, and the coming time seemed to hold in itswomb the opportunity for which he longed. One night he sat alone inthe living-room of his house. It had once been a handsome room in itsway, but time and neglect had done their work and it was now littlebetter than a ruin, without dignity or picturesqueness of any kind. Hehad been drinking heavily for some time and was more than halfstupefied. He thought he heard a noise as of someone at the door andlooked up. Then he called half savagely to come in; but there was noresponse. With a muttered blasphemy he renewed his potations.Presently he forgot all around him, sank into a daze, but suddenlyawoke to see standing before him someone or something like a battered,ghostly edition of his sister. For a few moments there came upon him asort of fear. The woman before him, with distorted features andburning eyes seemed hardly human, and the only thing that seemed areality of his sister, as she had been, was her wealth of golden hair,and this was now streaked with grey. She eyed her brother with a long,cold stare; and he, too, as he looked and began to realise theactuality of her presence, found the hatred of her which he had had,once again surging up in his heart. All the brooding passion of thepast year seemed to find a voice at once as he asked her:
'Why are you here? You're dead and buried.'
'I am here, Wykham Delandre, for no love of you, but because I hateanother even more than I do you!' A great passion blazed in her eyes.
'Him?' he asked, in so fierce a whisper that even the woman was for aninstant startled till she regained her calm.
'Yes, him!' she answered. 'But make no mistake, my revenge is my own;and I merely use you to help me to it.' Wykham asked suddenly:
'Did he marry you?'
The woman's distorted face broadened out in a ghastly attempt at asmile. It was a hideous mockery, for the broken features and seamedscars took strange shapes and strange colours, and queer lines ofwhite showed out as the straining muscles pressed on the oldcicatrices.
'So you would like to know! It would please your pride to feel thatyour sister was truly married! Well, you shall not know. That was myrevenge on you, and I do not mean to change it by a hair's breadth. Ihave come here tonight simply to let you know that I am alive, so thatif any violence be done me where I am going there may be a witness.'
'Where are you going?' demanded her brother.
'That is my affair! and I have not the least intention of letting youknow!' Wykham stood up, but the drink was on him and he reeled andfell. As he lay on the floor he announced his intention of followinghis sister; and with an outburst of splenetic humour told her that hewould follow her through the darkness by the light of her hair, and ofher beauty. At this she turned on him, and said that there were othersbeside him that would rue her hair and her beauty too. 'As he will,'she hissed; 'for the hair remains though the beauty be gone. When hewithdrew the lynch-pin and sent us over the precipice into thetorrent, he had little thought of my beauty. Perhaps his beauty wouldbe scarred like mine were he whirled, as I was, among the rocks of theVisp, and frozen on the ice pack in the drift of the river. But lethim beware! His time is coming!' and with a fierce gesture she flungopen the door and passed out into the night.
* * * * *
Later on that night, Mrs. Brent, who was but half-asleep, becamesuddenly awake and spoke to her husband:
'Geoffrey, was not that the click of a lock somewhere below ourwindow?'
But Geoffrey--though she thought that he, too, had started at thenoise--seemed sound asleep, and breathed heavily. Again Mrs. Brentdozed; but this time awoke to the fact that her husband had arisen andwas partially dressed. He was deadly pale, and when the light of thelamp which he had in his hand fell on his face, she was frightened atthe look in his eyes.
'What is it, Geoffrey? What dost thou?' she asked.
'Hush! little one,' he answered, in a strange, hoarse voice. 'Go tosleep. I am restless, and wish to finish some work I
left undone.'
'Bring it here, my husband,' she said; 'I am lonely and I fear whenthou art away.'
For reply he merely kissed her and went out, closing the door behindhim. She lay awake for awhile, and then nature asserted itself, andshe slept.
Suddenly she started broad awake with the memory in her ears of asmothered cry from somewhere not far off. She jumped up and ran to thedoor and listened, but there was no sound. She grew alarmed for herhusband, and called out: 'Geoffrey! Geoffrey!'
After a few moments the door of the great hall opened, and Geoffreyappeared at it, but without his lamp.
'Hush!' he said, in a sort of whisper, and his voice was harsh andstern. 'Hush! Get to bed! I am working, and must not be disturbed. Goto sleep, and do not wake the house!'