"Why? What did he do? When was it?"
"Why, chile, jes afore sundown, as I was a carryin' an armful of wood up-stairs, for Miss Mary's room, I meets de 'fessor a comin' down. I like to 'a' screamed! I like to 'a' let de wood drap! I like to 'a' drapped right down myself! It made my heart beat in de back o' my head—he look so awful, horrid gashly! Arter speakin' in a voice hollow as an empty coffin, an' skeerin' me out'n my seventeen sensibles axin arter you, he jes tuk hisself off summers, an' I ain't seen him sence."
"What did he ask you? What did you tell him?"
"He jes ax where you was. I telled him how you were gone home 'long o' Miss Marian; he ax when you were comin' back; I telled him I believed not till to-morrow mornin'; then his face turned all sorts of awful dark colors, an' seemed like it crushed right in, an' he nodded and said 'Ah!' but it sounded jes like a hollow groan; and he tuk hisself off, and I ain't seen him sence."
The elf danced about the room, unable to restrain her glee. And the longer Dr. Grimshaw remained away, the more excited she grew. She skipped about like the very sprite of mischief, exclaiming to herself:
"Oh, shan't we have fun presently! Oh, shan't we, though! The Grim maniac! he has gone to detect me! And he'll break in upon Thurston and Marian's interview. Won't there be an explosion! Oh, Jupiter! Oh, Puck! Oh, Mercury! What fun—what delicious fun! Wr-r-r-r! I can scarcely contain myself! Begone, Maria! Vanish! I want all the space in this room to myself! Oh, fun alive! What a row there'll be! Me-thinks I hear the din of battle!
"Oh clanga a rang! a rang! clang! clash! Whoop!"
sang the elf, springing and dancing, and spinning, and whirling, around and around the room in the very ecstasy of mischief. Her dance was brought to a sudden and an awful close.
The hall door was thrown violently open, hurried and irregular steps were heard approaching, the parlor door was pushed open, and Dr. Grimshaw staggered forward and paused before her!
Yes; her frolic was brought to an eternal end. She saw at a glance that something fatal, irreparable, had happened. There was blood upon his hands and wrist-bands! Oh, more—far more! There was the unmistakable mark of Cain upon his writhen brow! Before now she had seen him look pale and wild and haggard, and had known neither fear nor pity for him. But now! An exhumed corpse galvanized into a horrid semblance of life might look as he did—with just such sunken cheeks and ashen lips and frozen eyes; with just such a collapsed and shuddering form; yet, withal, could not have shown that terrific look of utter, incurable despair! His fingers, talon-like in their horny paleness and rigidity, clutched his breast, as if to tear some mortal anguish thence, and his glassy eyes were fixed in unutterable reproach upon her face! Thrice he essayed to speak, but a gurgling noise in his throat was the only result. With a last great effort to articulate, the blood suddenly filled his throat and gushed from his mouth! For a moment he sought to stay the hemorrhage by pressing a handkerchief to his lips; but soon his hand dropped powerless to his side; he reeled and fell upon the floor!