"When you dig the earth how the horrible worms crawl out! I cut one into four pieces yesterday, and not one piece was dead when I left. When I die, do not bury me in the ground, but throw me as I am in the sea. The ground is dark and rotting, but the sea is fresh. I can shut my eyes so, and feel myself there. There," pointing in the air, "is a huge black shadow floating over me like a cloud. Great eyes, each with a hundred circles, stare at me through the green water. There goes a great outline, brilliant as a rainbow, white, yellow, black, blue——oh! how horrible it is to die!" she suddenly screamed, clasping her hands and staring at me wildly.
I passed my arm round her neck, kissed her cold cheek, and tried to soothe her. She turned in her chair, burying her face in my breast and trembling from hand to foot. She disengaged herself presently, walked with uncertain steps to the bed, and put on her skirt.
"Is there nothing you can do, my poor wife, to clear your mind of these distressing fancies?" I asked. "If you would try to fix your mind upon something, however unimportant, it might create an interest and give you food for thought."
"Are not other people haunted like I am?"
"Many, I dare say. We all should be, if we did not resolve not to be. Why, were I to encourage superstitious feelings, I could make myself the most unhappy wretch in the world in less than a week. Will was given us expressly that we might control our humours, and passions, and weaknesses. You have the will; you only want the resolution to exercise it."
"What can my will do for me? If I were to grind my teeth and clench my hands, and declare I would not think, could I stop thinking? Oh! it is enough to drive me mad!"
She began to talk to herself and moved about the room, prowling rather than walking; looking uneasily above, then staring at herself in the glass, shaking her head and catching at the fingers of her left hand. Suddenly she stopped, and called out. "Why will you look at me, Arthur? You are growing unkind. You used not to look at me before like that." And she began to sob.
"It is my love that makes me look at you; but I will not look if it gives you pain;" and I turned to the window, and stared out with as heavy a heart as ever a man had.
She fell to singing to herself a little melodious air with Italian words, of which I caught only the first line;