Will time ever erase the agony of that moment from my memory? Shall I ever again know that state of happy rest—those peaceful hours, ere I gazed upon thy false, false face? Oh, Eva! Alas! no. My heart still answers No!
I glided like an avenging serpent into the room, so silently that they heard me not, and then for a moment I was spell-bound with agony, for there was almost what I had pictured. With her bonnet thrown off, her long dark hair hanging over the back of the fauteuil in which she reclined, and her eyes raised towards his, was the false one. While he, the blight and crusher of my life, leant over her, caressing her cheek, and bending nearer and nearer, and nearer still—but I could bear no more: my eyes seemed blinded with fury, and to be starting out of their sockets; my brain burned; and with one wild, hoarse cry of “Fiend,” Nemesis-like I launched myself upon him.
In a moment, with a cry of dread, he wrenched himself round and confronted me with his ashen face, but with a wild “Ha! ha!” I had him by the throat, and we wrestled here and there, tumbling the rich furniture in every direction, till, with almost superhuman strength, I dashed his head through the pier-glass behind him.
There was a fearful crash, and the wretched woman shrieked aloud; but I was deaf to her cries as she implored me to spare him. I laughed again madly, and still held to the struggling wretch, till, half strangled and in despair, he dashed something in my face, when, as it fell shattering to the floor, I started back and held my enemy at arm’s length.
Aghast I gazed upon Eva, but she covered her face with her hands, and tried to swoon, as she sank in a heap upon the floor. But I had seen all—all in that horribly-distorted mouth. A fearful light had flashed across my brain, and, as servants came hurrying into the room, I thrust my enemy from me, and parting the people at the door, darted down the stairs and fled for my life.
Forgetful of the waiting cab, I was tearing along the pave, when the driver, fearful for his fare, galloped his wretched knacker after me, and then I staggered in, and sunk back amongst the hard cushions, ready almost to heap the dirty straw from beneath my feet upon my wretched head, but still I could hear the sympathising words of the cabby as he closed the door.
“Pore chap, it must ha’ been a scrauntch.”
For he knew where I had been—where I had seen all—all in that fearful moment—the gnashing teeth which lay at my feet, the man’s face, Eva’s distorted, mumbling mouth; and I had fled, never to see her more—never to know rest for the aching misery within my heart. Alas! I had seen all, and oh! cabby, faithful charioteer, ’twas indeed an awful scrauntch, for my fancied rival was Michael Angelo Raphael, the Dentist.
It is only fair to state, on behalf of the young gentleman from whom the above emanated, that he really seemed very bad indeed; in fact, desperate. But as he could eat very heartily, and evidently used a great deal of pomatum, his case is hopeful.