Page:Weird Tales Volume 3 Number 3 (1923-03).djvu/51

50 I should have told you—oh, I know I should have told you!"

She wept drearily now, and her husband remained us before, stonily trying to keep his self-mastery.

"Go on!" he said at length.

Mildred struggled to force back the hysterical sobs choking her.

"You know, Ernest, how I lay as if dying—unable to rouse at all, until you gave me a little dog.

"Only then, things began to seem a trifle clearer—more as if I were awaking to life again. And it was the dog that did it. It made me know, vaguely, that I must have animal life about me. But still I did not understand fully. Even at that time I was only partly returned to ordinary consciousness—not yet enough myself to realize what was passing around me, nor within myself. It was only when we met the snake charmer that day, that I understood—at last! I knew, then, what I must have, or perish!"

"God punished me—that you did not perish!" said Halketh, still in the same stony calm.

"Oh, Ernest—Ernest!" she wailed again.

"Go on!" was all he said.

"And then—and then—I saw you hated it—I knew, too, that it, was not good or natural, and so I kept the snakes in secret. I needed their bite to keep me bright and gay—to keep me alive. But after a time—you remember, Ernest, when I became so listless here some time ago—I found that the bites of small snakes were no longer enough. I—I needed a stronger stimulant. So I began going out into the jungle, days when you were away—Oh, if you knew how I suffer—to tell you this!" She shook with violent sobs again—terrible sobs which she still forced back, gathering herself for the final effort of confession.

"I wandered in the jungle—I called them—I found them at last, the great cobras—and let them give me life—O, Heaven! How I love it!—"

The last words broke forth involuntarily, her voice rising to a scream—suddenly muffled, however, as Halketh's vicelike hand closed on her throat. He held her so a moment, while she choked and beat the air frantically, then released her as suddenly, so that she fell back upon the ground, moaning, where he let her lie. His icy tones reached her ear faintly:

"I have not yet decided, Mildred. I may kill you tonight. Perhaps you will never leave this place alive."

He stopped and appeared lost in deep meditation. Mildred, almost overcome with horror, crawled, moaning, to his feet. His eyes turned upon her, no other muscle moving. After a moment he spoke:

"No! do not say any more just now. Do not come too near—it may not be safe! I have not yet made up my mind."

The unhappy woman, daring neither to speak nor move, remained as if paralyzed, lying where she was on the ground.

Ten—fifteen minutes passed, in utter silence. Then, slowly, he reached down toward her. As his hand touched her it broke the spell holding her. With a shrill scream, she rolled from him over the rough ground, wailing:

"Spare me! Spare me!"

"Do not fear me, Mildred—now," he said, slowly and gently. "It is true I did not know at first what might be best. But now I have decided. I shall not kill you—wife that was! Perhaps indeed you may not be to blame. But, Mildred—know that I followed you tonight with murder in my heart, for I thought to find you with Ronald as a lover."

She looked up, in utter, dull surprise.

"And I now wish it had been so, rather than—Oh, God! Have mercy!"

His stony composure broke for a moment. He mastered himself, then continued:

"I took you, Mildred, for better, for worse—in joy or sorrow, in sickness and in health, to have and to hold, until death do us part. I therefore, from now on, devote my life to finding a cure for the curse you bear. We will go to England. I will ransack the world for help, and we may yet find happiness again."

He ceased, and Mildred, weeping, threw herself into his arms. Silently he held her trembling, convulsed form. Silently he waited until the wildest agony of her despair was past. Then, with head averted that he might not see again that dark, scaly mass still writhing and twisting, like the seething of some hellish witches' caldron, Halketh drew his wife toward their homeward road. In silence he led her back to the Post, and left her there.

He still had work to do that night. Without a word, he left the home he had not thought to enter again, and hastened for the engagement he had to keep. He knew he was behind the appointed hour.

He reached the duelling ground some twenty minutes late. The men who started forward as he appeared never forgot the sight of his ghastly face. They stood in silence as Halketh waked directly up to his waiting opponent, looking neither to the right nor left.

"Ronald, I wish to apologize. I have done you a great wrong. I have to ask your forgiveness. Do you grant it?"

A wave of intense compassion and sympathy was blended with Ronald's feeling of relief as he clasped Halketh's right hand in both of his.

"Say no more, sir, I beg you!" he said cordially. "Forgive my hastiness, or any fault you saw in me!"

Ronald was more deeply moved than he showed. It had been a solemn experience for him.

"We are friends again, I trust," said Halketh, and then to the others: "Gentlemen, I thank you all and hope for your indulgence. Have I your permission to withdraw?"

They shook his hand silently.

Hours later, as the mystery of dawn was breaking, Halketh went to his room. His wife was lying awake as she heard his step. He passed through her room, and as she felt his gentle touch on her hand, she caught it to her breast.

"Ernest!" she whispered, "have you thought—do you know—what keeps me—alive?"

"I have thought, and I am prepared. We will take them with us."