“This,” muttered Bart Hodge, “is retribution.”
“I must go away,” whispered Worthington. “I must hide where they can’t see me. Look how every one stares at me! They seem to know I have done it! These infernal lights betray me! I must hide in the darkness. Some one is following me everywhere. I am afraid of the darkness! I will always be afraid of the darkness! In the darkness or in the light, there is no rest for me—no rest! Did you hear that voice? Do you hear? It accuses me of murder! I am haunted! My God! Haunted, haunted!”
With this heartbroken cry he sank on his knees and crept toward Frank.
“You’re the ghost that haunts me!” he exclaimed. “It is my punishment! I must always be near you, and you must haunt me forever!”
Merry touched him gently.
“Get up, Worthington,” he said regretfully. “Your punishment has been too much. Look at me. Look me straight in the eyes, Worthington. I am not dead. You didn’t kill me.”
“No use to tell me that; I know better.”
“It is hopeless now, Hodge,” said Merry, in a low tone. “The only chance for him is that time will restore his reason. You may go, Worthington.”
“I must stay near by, mustn’t I?”
“You may stay outside.”