"Come here," said Arthur, still in that low voice, but with the face unnaturally pale, and the eyes flashing with steady and ominous light; and he led the way to the desk. Barnhurst obeyed him without a word.
"To-morrow, at ten o'clock, we will return to this mansion," said Dermoyne, fixing his eyes upon the affrighted visage of Barnhurst. "We will return together, and if Alice yet lives, we will go away together; but," he laid his right hand upon the forehead of the wretch,—or rather placed his thumb upon the right temple, and his fingers on the left,—"but, if Alice is dead, I will kill you at her bedside."
There was a determination in his tone,—in his look,—nay, in the very pressure of the hand which touched Barnhurst's forehead; which gave a force to his brief words, that no pen can depict.
Barnhurst fell on his knees, and his head sank on his breast. He had no power to frame a word. He appeared conscious that he was in the hands of his fate.
"Get up, get up, my friend!" and Arthur raised him from his knees and placed him in a chair. (Now well we know that it would have been more in accordance with the rules provided for novel writers, for Arthur to have said, "Arise! villain!" but as he simply said, "Get up, my friend!" applying a singular emphasis to the italicized words: we feel bound to record his words just as he spoke them).
"I have a few words to say to you," said Arthur; "there's no use of your shuddering when I speak to you, and of crying when I touch you. You must listen to me and listen with all your senses about you. Why, you were courageous enough to blaspheme God, when you used his religion as the instrument of that poor girl's ruin: don't be afraid of me."
"When you leave this place, my friend, I will go with you. I will put no restraint upon your actions; you can go where you please, but wherever you go, I will go with you. I will not lose sight of you, until the life or death of Alice Burney is assured. Yes, you can go where you please, talk with whom you please, sleep, eat, drink where it suits you, but everywhere I will go with you. We will be together, side by side, until the life or the death of Alice is certain,—together, always together, like twin souls,—do you understand, my friend? Until we are assured of the fate of Alice, I will be your shadow? Do you comprehend?"
Herman did comprehend. The full force of Arthur's determination crowded upon him, impressing every fiber of his soul.
"No,—no,—this cannot be," he faltered,—"If you must wreak your vengeance on me, kill me at once. But, to be thus accompanied, I will not consent—"
"Kill you?" and there was a sad smile on Dermoyne's face; "do you suppose that the mere act of physical death can atone for the moral and physical death of poor Alice? You commit a wrong, that is murder in a sense, that the basest physical murder can never equal; and you think the sacrifice of your life will atone for that wrong? Faugh! If Alice dies, I will kill you,—be assured of that—I will crush the miserable life which now beats within your brain,—but, first, I will make you die a thousand deaths—I will kill you in soul as well as in body—for every throb which you have made her suffer, you shall render an exact, a fearful account—yes, before I kill your miserable body, I will kill you in reputation, in all that makes life dear, in everything that you hold sacred, or that those with whom you are connected by all or any ties, hold sacred. To do this, I must know all about you, and to know all about you, I must go with you and be your shadow."