"Yes, she was dead, and no word had been exchanged between them--no look of affection--no token of forgiveness. How truly, how prophetically, had she spoken to her husband in their last interview on this spot, eight years before! 'After this night I will never open my lips to you, nor, willingly, will I ever again listen to your voice!'
"From that hour to this he had never heard the sound of her voice, and now that, after their long agony--for there is no doubt that his sufferings were as great as hers--she had summoned him to her, she was dead! Ah, if she had only lived to say:
"'Mine was the fault; it was not only I who was betrayed; let there be peace and forgiveness between us!'
"Did she know, when she called him to her, that he would look upon her dead face? Could she so measure her moments upon earth as to be certain that her heart would cease to beat as he entered the room at her bidding? No, it could not have been, for this premeditation would have proclaimed her capable of vindictive passion. She was full of tender feeling and sweet compassion, and the influence of her child must have softened her heart towards the man who had loved and married her, and had done her no wrong.
"That she knew she was dying was certain, and she was willing--nay more than willing, wishful to forgive and to ask forgiveness as she stood upon the brink of another world. The sight of his worn and wasted face may have shocked her and caused her sudden death. But it remained a mystery whether she had seen him--whether her spirit had not taken flight before her husband presented himself to her. It was a question none could answer.
"I am aware that there are people who would say that my lady deliberately designed this last bitter blow to her husband. My master did not think so. When the first shock of his grief was spent, his face expressed nothing but sorrow and compassion. He kissed her once--on her forehead, not on her lips--and after her eyes were closed and she lay, white and beautiful, upon her bed, he sat by her side the whole of the day and night--for a great part of the time with Master Christian in his arms.
"There were those in the villa who declared that on the night of her death the white shadow of my lady was seen gliding about the grounds, and from that day the place was supposed to be haunted. For my own part I knew that these were foolish fancies, but you cannot reason people out of them.
"The next day my master made preparations for the funeral. His strange manner of conducting it strengthened the superstition. He would not have any of his old friends at the funeral, although many wrote to him. Only himself and Master Christian and the servants followed my lady to her grave. He would not allow any black crape to be worn, and all the female servants of the house were dressed in white.
"It caused a great deal of talk, a good many people saying that it was a sinful proceeding on the part of my master, and that it was a sign of joy at his wife's death. They must have been blind to the grief in his face--so plainly written there that the tears came to my eyes as I looked at it--when they uttered this slander. And yet, if the truth were told, if it were deeply searched for among the ashes in his heart, it is not unlikely that my master was sorrowfully grateful that his wife's martyrdom was at an end. For her sake, not for his own, did he experience this sad feeling of gratitude. It was entirely in accordance with his stern sense of justice--in the exercise of which he was least likely to spare himself of all people in the world--that, while he was bowed down to the earth in grief, he should be glad that his wife was dead.
"All kinds of rumours were afloat concerning the house and the family. The gossips declared that on certain nights the grounds were filled with white shadows, mournfully following each other in a long funeral train. That is how the villa grew to be called The House of Shadows.