The Argosy — page 229: what you’re looking at

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

210 The Tenant of The Cedars. untimely hour? I was still straining my eyes through the shadows, when a movement of my companion made me turn hastily from the window. ‘The moonlight showed me that he had risen, and stood grasping the back of his chair, gazing with a look of awe-struck expectation towards the door. My heart began to throb with the same mysterious dread which I had experienced before. As I held my breath to listen, a faint rust- ling sound struck my ear, like the soft ‘ frou-frou” of a woman’s dress. It crossed the room from the door to the piano, passing close to me —so close, that I involuntarily drew back, thrilling in every nerve. There was a pause, filled by wailing wind and rushing water, then— near to us, yet immeasurably distant, like a divine echo from another world, the solemn, spiritual voice arose. This time both words and music were English, and there was a ring of passionate pain in its tone which brought the tears to my eyes as I listened. ) All the anguish of a breaking heart seemed to find expression in ‘The Song of Love and Death.” ‘‘ Sweet is true love, tho’ given in vain, in vain ; And sweet is death, who puts an end to pain: I know not which is sweeter, no, not I,” In the interval after the first verse I caught the sound of footsteps approaching up the gravel walk, and presently, a figure appeared at the window, darkly outlined against the moonlit background. I had not been mistaken; it was Sir Philip. Underwood, whose head was turned towards the piano, did not notice the visitor, nor did the latter appear to perceive that the room was occupied. After a moment’s hesitation, he pushed back the lace curtains and noiselessly entered—or was about to enter; but, in the very act of crossing the threshold, he stopped short and recoiled, for at the same moment the song was resumed : ‘‘ Love, art thou sweet ? then bitter death must be: Love, thou art bitter ? sweet is death to me. Oh Love, if deaih be sweeter 5 There was a sudden break; a quick, short, gasping cry. In- voluntarily I glanced towards the watcher at the window. He stood as if turned to stone, and his face, livid in the moonlight, looked like a mask of fear. There was a silence of several moments—silence within and with- out, for the fitful wind was hushed. The voice sank to a broken, inar- ticulate murmur, and died away in a long, shuddering sigh. ‘Then all was still. After a moment, Underwood passed his hand over his eyes, then turned to speak to me. But at the same instant he caught sight of Sir Philip, and, witha hoarse cry of mingled rage and triumph, sprang forwards to the window, and seized him by the throat. EGomichbooks.co m