“Well, my dear, what brings you here? What a dreary night!”
“Yes, it is dreadfully damp and lonesome; the people look like ghosts in the mist, and their voices sound hollow. A proper day for evil things to creep home,” and she laughed drearily.
“What do you mean,” he answered, with a quick glance at her face, which wore an expression of nervous anxiety.
“I mean that Lady Bellamy has come home; is she not an evil thing?”
“Hush, Angela; you should not talk so. You are excited, dear. Why should you call her evil?”
“I don’t know; but have you ever noticed her? Have you never seen her creep, creep, like a tiger on its prey? Watch her dark face, and see the bad thoughts come and peep out of her eyes as the great black pupils swell and then shrivel, till they are no larger than the head of this black pin, and you will know that she is evil, and does evil work.”
“My dear, my dear, you are upset to talk so.”
“Oh! no, I am not upset; but did you ever have a presentiment?”
“Plenty; but never one that came true.”
“Well, I have a presentiment now—yes, a presentiment—it caught me in the mist.”