“I am the restless spirit of Elsie Maclean, come back to guard her grave.”
In another instant he was at her side, and laying his hand on the white netted shawl with which she was veiling her features, he tore it away, and Salome’s fair face looked defiantly at him.
“If I had known that my pursuer was Dr. Grey, I would not have troubled myself to play the ghost farce, for of course I could not expect to frighten you off; but I hoped you were one of the servants, who would not very diligently chase a spectre. I did not suppose that you could be coaxed or driven thus far from your arm-chair beside the bed where Mrs. Gerome is asleep.”
Astonishment kept him silent for some seconds, and, in the awkward pause, the girl laughed constrainedly—nervously.
“After all your show of bravery in pursuing a woman, I verily believe you are too much frightened to arrest me if I chose to escape.”
“Salome, has something terrible happened at home, that you have come here at midnight to break to me?”
“Nothing has happened at home.”
“Then why are you here? Are you, too, delirious?”
Her scornful laugh rang startlingly on the still night air.
“Oh, Salome! You grieve, you shock me!”