Though unable to reason over it at the time, I have often done so
since, and my father's attitude and look as he faced this strange
guest has dwelt so persistently in my memory that scarcely a year
passes without the scene coming up in my dreams with its accompanying
emotions of fear and perplexity. For - perhaps you know the story -
that hour was the general's last. He died before leaving the house;
died in that same dark library concerning which you have asked so
many questions.
"'I remember the circumstances well, how well down to each and every
detail. Our mother had gone back to her room, and the general and
my father, who did not linger over their wine - why should they,
when the general would not drink? - had withdrawn to the library at
the suggestion of the general, whose last words are yet lingering
in my ears.
"'The time has come for our little talk,' said he. 'Your reception
augurs -'
"'You do not look well,' my father here broke in, in what seemed an
unnaturally loud voice. 'Come and sit down -'
"'Here the door closed.
"'We had hung about this door, curious children that we were, in
hopes of catching a glimpse of the queer new settle which had been
put into place that day. But we scampered away at this, and were
playing in and out of the halls when the library door agin opened
and my father came out.
Pages:
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277