Whom the Gods Destroyed

by Josephine Daskam Bacon

"He had bad dreams. He dreamed a woman stood at the foot of the bed and stared at him and motioned him to go. And she was an unnatural woman. She kept changing colour, from red to yellow, from yellow to cream colour, from cream colour to white, from white to—ah! she was a dead woman!

"She motioned him to go, but he refused. She came to the side of the bed and took off her long red sash and bound him down. Then he was willing to go indeed, and strained his muscles in useless efforts to break away, but she laughed at him and then breathed in his face till her damp, icy breath chilled his very soul—and he woke, covered with the sweat of terror—to see her standing at the foot of the bed, looking, looking into his staring eyes!

III

"So it was true. There were such things. But at least his limbs were free, and to his joy he discovered that he was not afraid. No; he had a dull feeling of coming disaster, but no fear. She was a young woman, with big shadowy eyes and a strange mouth. She had on a long, loose white nightgown, open at the throat, and she carried a little lamp. 'Go!' he saw in her eyes as plainly as if she said it. He looked about the room—he could have sworn it was changed. It had the air of a woman's room, that she is living in and keeps her things in. He had no right there—none. He should have gone. But he was proud because he wasn't afraid, and he answered her with his eyes that he would not go. A tired, puzzled look came into her face, a kind of frown, and she leaned over the footboard and begged him with those big dark eyes, begged him hard to go. He had his chance—oh, yes, the fool had his chance!

"But he was so proud that he could master her, master a returned soul—for lovely as she was, he knew she wasn't human—that he only set his teeth and started up to come nearer her. But she raised her hand and he fell back, feeling queer and drowsy. Then she came to the edge of the bed and sat down and took from behind her a soft red silk sash and drew it across his face. A sweet, languid feeling stole over him; the bed seemed like a cloud of down, her sash smelled like spice and sandalwood in a warm wind. He felt he was being drugged and weakened, and he tried to stumble up, but the soft silk smothered him, and he became almost unconscious.

"He only wanted one thing—to feel her fingers touch his face and to hold her long brown hair. And while she drew the sash across his mouth he stretched out his hands on either side to catch it and reach her fingers. There was nothing ghostly about her—she was only a lovely dream-woman. Maybe he was asleep....

"And then she pulled the sash away, and he caught her eye and awoke with a start—her look was full of triumph. She didn't beg him any longer. This was no helpless, gentle spirit of a woman; this was a weird elemental creature; she hadn't any soul or any pity; something made her act out all this dreadful tragedy, without any regard for human life or reason. He knew somehow that she couldn't help his weakness; that though in some fiendish way she had bound him hand and foot, she did it not of herself, but in obedience to some awful law that she couldn't help any more than he. And then he began to be afraid. Slowly great waves of horror rose and grew and broke over him. He tried to move his feet and hands, but he could not so much as will the muscles to contract. He strained till the drops stood on his forehead, but still his arms lay stretched motionless across the bed.

"Just then he met her eyes again, and his heart sank, they were so mocking and bitter. 'Fool! fool!' they said. They were so malignant, and yet so impersonal—he could have sworn that she was afraid too. What was to happen? Would she kill him? His tongue was helpless. He worked his lips weakly, but they made no words. And she turned down her mouth scornfully and played with the sash. Why did she wait? For she was waiting for a time to come—her eyes told that. What was that time? A great joy that Darby was safe outdoors came to him, and he remembered that Darby would come at twelve! He would break the spell. And just then she left the bed and bent down over the little lamp, and when she took it up it was lighted. She moved across to the window and set it in the sill. Then she glided to the door and locked it. Joan heard the bolt slip.

"Steps sounded on the ladder outside. Into Joan's half-dulled thought came a kind of comfort. Darby was coming. Some one knocked on the pane and the window was raised from the outside.