“‘What doth Lady Rookwood in the abode of the dead?’ asked he at length.
“She started at the sound of his voice, but still kept her eye fixed upon the vacancy.
“‘Hast thou not beckoned me hither, and am I not come?’ returned she, in a hollow tone. ‘And now thou askest wherefore I am here. I am here because, as in thy life I feared thee not, neither in death do I fear thee. I am here because——’
“‘What seest thou?’ interrupted Alan, with ill-suppressed terror.
“‘What see I—ha—ha!’ shouted Lady Rookwood, amidst discordant laughter; ‘that which might appal a heart less stout than mine—a figure anguish-writhen, with veins that glow as with a subtle and consuming flame. A substance, yet a shadow, in thy living likeness. Ha—frown if thou wilt; I can return thy glances.’
MELODRAMA POUR RIRE
“‘Where dost thou see this vision?’ demanded Alan.
“‘Where?’ echoed Lady Rookwood, becoming for the first time sensible of the presence of a stranger. ‘Ha—who are you that question me?—what are you?—speak!’
“‘No matter who or what I am,’ returned Alan; ‘I ask you what you behold?’
“‘Can you see nothing?’