She made no sound. Her face went white as marble. The expression in
her eyes was that which had tortured me into the depths of a hell more
frightful than any conceived by human imagination.
A moment I stood swaying before her, with leveled revolver--as I had
stood on that other occasion, months before.
Slowly, I lowered the revolver, and smiled--not as Louis would have
smiled but as a maniac, formed in his likeness, would have smiled.
Her lips framed the word “Louis,” but, in the grip of despair, she made
no sound. It was the despair not merely of a woman who felt herself
doomed to death, but of a woman who consigned her loved one to a fate
worse than death.
Still I smiled--with growing difficulty, for Louis’ personality was
restive and my time in the usurped body was short.
In that moment, I was not anxious to give up his body. At this new
glimpse of her beauty through physical sight, my love for Velma flamed
into hitherto unrealized intensity. For an instant my purpose in
returning was forgotten. Forgotten was the knowledge of the ages which
I had sipped since last I occupied the body in which I faced her.
Forgotten was everything save--Velma.
As I took a step forward, my arms outstretched, my eyes expressing God
knows what depth of yearning, she uttered a scream.
Blackness surged over me. I stumbled. I was being forced out--out----
That cry of terror had vibrated through the soul of Louis and he was
struggling to answer it.
Instinctively, I battled against the darkness, clung to my hard-won
ascendancy. A moment of conflict, and again I prevailed.
Once more I smiled. The effect of it must have been weird, for I was
growing weaker and Louis had returned to the attack with overwhelming
persistence. My tongue strove for expression:
“_Sorry--Winkie--it won’t happen again--I’m not--coming--back----_”
* * * * *
When I recovered from the momentary unconsciousness that accompanies
transition from the physical to spiritual, Louis was looking in
affright at the huddled figure of Velma, who had fainted away. The next
instant, he had gathered her in his arms.
Though I had come near failing in the attempt to deliver my message, I
had no fear that my visit would prove in vain. With clear prescience, I
knew that my utterance of that old familiar nickname, “_Winkie_,” would
carry untold meaning to Velma--that hereafter she would fear no more
what she might see in the depths of her husband’s eyes--that with a
return of her old confidence in him, the specter of apprehension would
be banished forever from their lives.