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very bridge. We struggled here, violently, abusively. I fell, and drowned, and my spirit soared to those worlds where I have awaited you since — still triumphant in my ageless love, my beloved— still waiting for your soul’s last gaining.”
They returned to the room in the east wing, in silence — so silently that Philip felt almost incorporeal himself.
His heart was aching with a vast yearning, and as he looked at her he knew suddenly that he craved no fleshly touch of her — nor any other worldly thing. His wife, gold and rose and pearl, was a pitiful, sawdust toy, to be prayed for and forgiven. He wanted neither food nor drink nor human touch, nor anything save the nameless thing that had haunted him all this last life thru and had become known to him at last — his soul’s love.
“Dorothy,” he whispered, “I feel — • if you cannot come to me — I must soon come to you. Ah — God — be
merciful — my love — my — love ”
“I am Lady Drummond!” shrieked an unmistakably New Yorkian voice, “and I wish to see his Lordship — at once. My — phew! — this is musty!
We'll have to do the fox-trot with some of these relics !”
The new Lady Drummond peered about the sacred, baronial hall disdain( Continued on page 69)
mingled their breath with the appleblossoms.
“On one of these walks, Gregory followed me. He professed love, yet he seemed possessed to torment me — to taunt me — to make of me a light thing. This day he followed me to the bridge over the river. How many, many times we had stood there together— hands tightly clasped — gazing down at our reflections in the still waters! How many times we had wished we might be one with the tidal waters — one with the winds, and the stars, and the flowers — the vast elemental from which we felt our love was derived ! Come with me now ; I want you to be there while I finish the tale.”
Philip followed her with the rapt stare of a sleep-walker. Her substanceless form passed door and stone and tree as tho they were not, and yet, when she turned to smile at Philip, it warmed his blood to the pulsing point.
Over the bridge they leaned together — as they had leaned a century ago — with all a century’s differences between them, and the unthinkable barrier of separate worlds.
“My body lies in those waters,” the wraith was saying; “my troubled flesh at peace. He pursued me to this
(Forty-seven)
“WHEN WE PARTED HE STOLE UPON YOU — AND KILLED YOU”