The Man Who Rose Again Part 73

CHAPTER x.x.x

THE MAN WHO ROSE AGAIN

The servant opened the door of the drawing-room, which, although the sun had set, was far from dark. The time was summer, and the air was so clear that darkness seemed impossible.

"I will light a lamp, and then I will tell Miss Castlemaine that you are here," she said.

"No, no," said Leicester, almost eagerly; "do not trouble about a lamp.

It would be a pity to spoil the light of the moon. Besides, it is almost as light as day. Tell Miss Castlemaine that I am waiting here, will you?"

The servant went away without a word; she did not pay much attention to the gentleman's behaviour. What could be expected of these strange men from the East? They could not be expected to act like civilised Englishmen.

"Signor Ricordo is in the drawing-room, miss," she said to Olive. "I wanted to light the lamps, but he asked me not to. He said the moonlight was so very beautiful."

Olive laughed almost nervously. She had been in a state of suspense all the day. She had expected him soon after breakfast, and she wondered, with many fears in her heart, why he had not come. If she had known all that had been in Leicester's mind that day, she would have feared still more. More than once she had felt angry. To say the least, it was strange that after she had promised to be his wife in the evening, he should fail to come to her in the morning, and she realised more than ever that strange dread of her promised husband. Besides, the thought of Leicester had come back to her again. She remembered how, after they were engaged, he spent every moment he could tear himself away from his affairs at her side. This man, on the other hand, had spent the whole day away from her, while only a narrow valley lay between them. All sorts of strange questions haunted her, and especially was she anxious when her father asked her why he had not come according to his promise.

Every hour of the day she had expected him, and when, after the storm had pa.s.sed, John Castlemaine drove away to dine at a neighbouring house, a feeling of utter loneliness fell upon her.

But he had come now, and she hurried towards him. When she entered the room, she saw him only dimly. He was standing in a part of the room where dark shadows fell. She went towards him timidly, her heart beating wildly. She no longer thought of Leicester now; this man filled the whole horizon of her life. When she was within a few feet of him, she stopped. Her heart became as heavy as lead. Why did he not come to meet her? Why did he stand there in the shadow, without moving a step towards her, after he had been away all the day?

"You are come at last," she said.

"Yes. Will you come and sit by me?"

Almost fearfully she did as she was bidden. The sofa on which they sat was so much in the darkness that she could not see his face plainly; only the dim outline of his form was visible. He acted in a most unlover-like fashion. He did not even offer to take her hand. She almost feared to sit by his side.

"Aren't you--you very late?" she stammered. "Is anything the matter?"

She hardly knew what she was saying, and the silence had become oppressive.

"Yes," he replied, "something is the matter."

"You--you are not ill, are you?"

"I don't know--oh, no, certainly not--not in the way you think."

"Why did you not come earlier--this morning, as you promised?" she asked. It was not a bit what she meant to say, but she had lost control over herself.

"I've been very busy--that is, I've been finding out something."

"What?"

"I've been making inquiries about--Leicester."

"About whom?"

"About Leicester. I've discovered something."

Her heart ceased to beat. What did he mean by speaking to her like this?

What could he have discovered about Leicester? Besides, his voice was strange. She no longer heard the low, fluid tones of an Oriental, but the voice of the past.

"What?" she asked.

"I've discovered that Leicester is not dead."

"What!"

"I've discovered that Leicester is not dead. That is why I've been away all the day. It has put everything that is--in a new light."

She sat as moveless as a statue. His voice sounded far away. It was very strange too, and yet it was very familiar.

"Not dead?"

"No. There can be no doubt about it. He died, but he has risen again."

A strange feeling possessed her heart. She was not sure whether it was an overmastering joy, or a terrible fear. Perhaps it was both. But the news was also a great shock, and the room seemed to swim around her.

"But, but," she stammered presently, "how do you explain--the--the, that is----"

"How do I explain the coroner's inquest, and all that was a.s.sociated with it? I will tell you. It is darker than I thought. Will you light the lamp?"

Like one in a dream she did as she was bidden. Her hand trembled so that she could scarcely hold the match to the wick of the lamp; but she succeeded at length, and the mellow light filled the room.

"There," she said, and she tried to laugh, "I have managed to do it. But tell me you are jesting with me."

"No, I am not jesting. Look at me."

She turned to him as he spoke, but she was powerless to speak a word.

"Did I not speak the truth? Has not Leicester come to life again?"

She looked at him like one spell-bound. There, standing before her, was Leicester. The huge black beard and moustache were shaven off; he no longer wore the fez which had helped to give him an Eastern appearance.

His face was paler. He was stouter than the Leicester of old, and there was still a suggestion of strangeness about him; but the black beard and moustache, the fez, and the Eastern appearance were gone. She could not doubt her eyes.

[Ill.u.s.tration: She gazed at him dumbfounded.]

She thought that for the first time in her life she was going to faint.

Her blood ran through her veins like streams of ice; her head swam.

Presently she mastered herself, however.

"I swore that I would come back again, and I have come; but do not fear, Olive."

Still she stood looking at him with wide-open eyes. She could realise nothing yet. Where was Ricordo, the man she had promised to marry? And why was Leicester there? How had she been deceived? What was the meaning of it all?

"Before you drive me away again, I have something to tell you," he went on, "something which you must hear. It is a strange story, but you must hear it."

"But tell me," she said; "I cannot understand. You are----"