The Argosy — page 221: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

204 The Tenant of The Cedars. ‘Delusion is not necessarily a sign of insanity,” I said after a moment’s pause. ‘‘ Your delusion—if you have one—may arise from disordered nerves, or —— ” ‘‘T have no delusion,” he interrupted. ‘‘ My senses are quickened to hear a sound which is inaudible to others—that’s all.” ‘‘ What is the sound?” I persisted ; but again there was no reply. I changed the subject. ‘‘T hear that you have the key of the drawing-room; please to give it me.” He took it from his pocket at once, and handed it to me, muttering something about not wishing the things to be ‘‘ meddled with.” ‘ Nothing need be moved, for I don’t intend to use that room,” I replied ; “but I should prefer to keep the key.” He looked up quickly. ‘Ah! they have told you, I see.” ‘Yes, I have been told what happened there,” I assented, looking him full in the face. He met my eyes steadily, his lips curving in a slow, sardonic smile. ‘Perhaps you know that I was suspected of the crime? ” ‘‘Unjustly, I am sure,” I replied, speaking my conviction; for I could detect no shadow of guilty consciousness in the man’s face : only bitterness and melancholy. ‘‘ How can you be sure of it? I may be a madman and a murderer for all you know to the contrary,” he retorted with a short, brusque laugh. Then, with one of his sudden changes of manner, he threw down his knife, and turned upon me almost fiercely. ‘Does a man destroy what he adores? I worshipped her—I would have died for her. And it was me—me! they accused of taking her innocent life. Fools that they were !” With a passionate gesture of his clenched hands he turned from me and limped hurriedly away down the path. I saw no more of him that evening, but he occupied a large share of my thoughts, both then and in the days which followed. His presence seemed to add to the uncanny sort of fascination which the place possessed for me—something which at once repelled and attracted my imagina- tion. Yet if the place were haunted, it seemed haunted by nothing more terrible than the gracious memory of its late tenant, which pervaded every room, like a lingering echo, or a sweet faint perfume, giving it a melancholy and mysterious charm. A fortnight passed away in uneventful tranquillity. I took long walks in the pleasant Berkshire lanes ; angled in the stream, lounged in the garden, and spent quiet evenings with my books. I had seen nothing more of my landlord (a circumstance which I hardly regretted), and my only connection with the outer world was thtough my cheerful and obliging little maid, who brought my letters and papers every morning, and regaled me with scraps of village Ip. hould th hly he joyed this *‘ lotos-eating *’ exist- gossip. I should thoroughly have enjoy eating °’ e% st (E@)