Two days ago, when I unlocked my bedroom door in the morning, and saw
the autumn sunlight streaming in through the leaded panes of the hall
windows, and heard the river dancing merrily down the gully among the
trees that will soon be quite bare and naked, I said to myself: “You
have been mad. Your mind has been filled with horrible dreams, that have
transformed you into a coward and your wife into a demon. Put them away
from you.”
I looked across the gully. A clear, cold,-thin light shone upon the
distant mountains. The cloud stacks lay piled above the Scawfell
range. The sky was a sheet of faded turquoise. I opened the window for
a moment. The air was dry and keen. How sweet it was to feel it on my
face!
I went down to the breakfast-room. Mar-got was moving about it softly,
awaiting me. In her white hands were letters. They dropped upon the
table as she stole up to greet me. Her lips were set tightly together,
but she lifted them to kiss me.
How close I came to my enemy as our mouths touched! Her lips were colder
than the wind.
Now that I was with her, my momentary sensation of acute relief deserted
me. The horror that oppressed me returned.
I could not eat--I could only make a pretence of doing so; and my hand
trembled so excessively that I could scarcely raise my cup from the
table.
She noticed this, and gently asked me if I was ill.