The widow's
hand instinctively covered her bosom as she listened, and, deep in the
spirit of her prayer, she continued:
"Oh, Bowie, if thou livest, let me know! May I not live to see thee come
and find me in another's arms; thy look would kill me. If thou art
detained by enemies, by savage people, or by foreign love, no matter
what thy errors, I will still be true! Give me some token by the God
that has thee in his keeping, whether thou liest on the ocean's floor or
lookest from the stars. If thou art dead, love of my youth, assure me,
oh, I pray thee!"
The wail and hacking cough seemed to be repeated very near. A footstep
seemed to come.
The door flew open, and in the moonlight stood a man, pale as a ghost,
of bandit look, with Spanish-looking garments, and head and neck tied up
with cerements, like wounded people in the cockpits of ships of war.
He bent upon her the eyes of the portrait above the door. How changed!
how like! There seemed upon his throat the stain of blood.
The widow, fascinated, frozen still, let fall her arms of ivory, and, as
she gazed, her beautiful neck, strained in horror and astonishment,
received upon its snow the rapture of Diana's shine.
The effigy, so like her husband, yet so altered, reached towards her his
hand, on which a diamond caught the moon, and seemed to drink it. A
wail, like the others she had heard, broke from his lips, and said the
words:
"To lose those charms! To lose that heart! O God!"
As thus he stood, ghastly and supplicating, as if he would fall and die
upon her threshold, another hand came forward in the moonlight, and drew
the door between them.
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