"Because—I won't!"
The glances which we exchanged spoke volumes.
"I want to die," I said, anxious to put an end to our conversation. "I am sick of life; the past is a tangled skein which I cannot unravel. It is time that my eyes closed for ever—that the curtain fell!"
She remained unmoved.
"Your old suspicion ... is it still alive, then?" she asked.
"Yes, still alive. Drive away the spectre, you alone can do it."
She assumed her favourite part of little mother, and gently laid her soft hand on my burning forehead.
"Does that relieve you?"
"Yes...."
It was a fact. The mere touch of that light hand which rested so heavily on my life exorcised the evil spirit, the secret trouble which would not let me rest.