"Let him say that to ME!" I exclaimed--"Let him dare to say it! and I
will prove who is the impostor to his face!"
She retreated from me with wide-open eyes of alarm.
"Why do you look at me like that?" she said. "We didn't really kill
you--except--in a dream!"
A sudden silence fell between us; something cold and shadowy and
impalpable seemed to possess the very air. If by some supernatural
agency we had been momentarily deprived of life and motion, while a
vast dark cloud, heavy with rain, had made its slow way betwixt us, the
sense of chill and depression could hardly have been greater.
Presently Catherine spoke again, with a little forced laugh.
"What silly things I say!" she murmured--"You can see for yourself my
nerves are in a bad state!--I am altogether unstrung!"
I stood for a moment looking at her, and considering the perplexity in
which we both seemed involved.
"If you would rather not dine with Mr. Santoris this evening," I said,
at last,--"and if you think his presence has a bad effect on you, let
us make some excuse not to go. I will willingly stay with you, if you
wish me to do so."
She gave me a surprised glance.
"You are very unselfish," she said--"and I wish I were not so fanciful.
It's most kind of you to offer to stay with me and to give up an
evening's pleasure--for I suppose it IS a pleasure? You like Mr.
Santoris?"
The colour rushed to my face in a warm glow.
"Yes," I answered, turning slightly away from her--"I like him very
much."
"And he likes YOU better than he likes any of us," she said--"In fact,
I believe if it had not been for you, we should never have met him in
this strange way--"
"Why, how can you make that out?" I asked, smiling. "I never heard of
him till your father spoke of him,--and never saw him till--"
"Till when?"--she demanded, quickly.
"Till the other night," I answered, hesitatingly.
She searched my face with questioning eyes.
"I thought you were going to say that you, like myself, had some idea
or recollection of having met him before," she said. "However, I shall
not ask you to sacrifice your pleasure for me,--in fact, I have made up
my mind to go to this dinner, though Dr. Brayle doesn't wish it."
"Oh! Dr. Brayle doesn't wish it!" I echoed--"And why?"
"Well, he thinks it will not be good for me--and--and he hates the very
sight of Santoris!"