around his quiet study. "Ah," he said, "it was a dream. I am glad, in spite of everything, that it was a dream. I am glad that I did not say those things to her in reality. The look of pain and astonishment on her face would have haunted me all my life." He shuddered. [18] [18] "It was horrible," he said. "Poor Marianne, poor Marianne! You must not know the truth which kills. Poor Marianne! We must pick up the bits to-morrow—somehow." Then he turned down the lights, and went upstairs. His wife's door was open, and he heard her voice calling him. "Clifford, Clifford!" she cried, as though in some great danger. He hastened his steps, and found Marianne standing in the middle of the room, her hair dishevelled, her eyes transfixed, and her face bearing the same expression of pain and astonishment which he had seen in his dreams. "Good God!" he cried. "What is it, Marianne?" "Clifford," she sobbed, "I dreamed that you had been telling me you hated and despised me, that I was an insult to your life and talents, that I had ruined your life, murdered your spirit, and crushed out all the best in you. Tell me, tell me, it was only a dream. I know we have not been happy, but—but—it could not have been as bad as that. Tell me, it was only a dream—but, oh, Clifford, it was so vivid, so penetrating that I cannot believe it was a dream. I heard your voice—your real voice; tell me—tell me——" "It was only a dream," he said excitedly, "nothing but a dream. You must not look like that. I cannot bear you to look like that. It is more than I can bear. You must forget about it, and we will begin all over again to-morrow. I never said those things to you—thank Heaven, I never said them to you—it was only a dream—your dream—and my dream." [19] [19] He could have bitten his tongue out after he had said those last words. "Your dream?" she cried, with a ring of despair in her voice.
Prev.
Back
Top