The Gloved Hand | Page 7

myself, must be a little mad!
As I watched, the discussion gradually grew more animated, and the
younger man, springing to his feet, paced excitedly up and down,
touching his forehead with his fingers from time to time, and raising his
hands to heaven, as though calling it as a witness to his words. At last
the other made a sign of assent, got to his feet, bent his head reverently
as to a spiritual superior and walked slowly away toward the house.
The younger man stood gazing after him until he passed from sight,
then resumed his rapid pacing up and down, evidently deeply moved.
At last from the direction of the house came the flutter of a white robe.
For a moment, I thought it was the old man returning; then as it
emerged fully from among the trees, I saw that it was a woman--a
young woman, I guessed, from her slimness, and from the mass of dark
hair which framed her face. And then I remembered that Godfrey had
told me that Worthington Vaughan had a daughter.
The man was at her side in an instant, held out his hand, and said
something, which caused her to shrink away. She half-turned, as
though to flee, but the other laid his hand upon her arm, speaking
earnestly, and, after a moment, she permitted him to lead her to a seat.
He remained standing before her, sometimes raising his hands to
heaven, sometimes pointing toward the house, sometimes bending
close above her, and from time to time making that peculiar gesture of
touching his fingers to his forehead, whose meaning I could not guess.
But I could guess at the torrent of passionate words which poured from
his lips, and at the eager light which was in his eyes!

The woman sat quite still, with bowed head, listening, but making no
sign either of consent or refusal. Gradually, the man grew more
confident, and at last stooped to take her hand, but she drew it quickly
away, and, raising her head, said something slowly and with emphasis.
He shook his head savagely, then, after a rapid turn up and down,
seemed to agree, bowed low to her, and went rapidly away toward the
house. The woman sat for some time where he had left her, her face in
her hands; then, with a gesture of weariness and discouragement,
crossed the lawn and disappeared among the trees.
For a long time I sat there motionless, my eyes on the spot where she
had disappeared, trying to understand. What was the meaning of the
scene? What was it the younger man had urged so passionately upon
her, but at which she had rebelled? What was it for which he had pled
so earnestly? The obvious answer was that he pled for her love, that he
had urged her to become his wife; but the answer did not satisfy me.
His attitude had been passionate enough, but it had scarcely been
lover-like. It had more of admonition, of warning, even of threat, than
of entreaty in it. It was not the attitude of a lover to his mistress, but of
a master to his pupil.
And what had been the answer, wrung from her finally by his
insistence--the answer to which he had at first violently dissented, and
then reluctantly agreed?
No doubt, if these people had been garbed in the clothes of every day, I
should have felt at the outset that all this was none of my business, and
have crept down the ladder and gone away. But their strange dress gave
to the scene an air at once unreal and theatrical, and not for an instant
had I felt myself an intruder. It was as though I were looking at the
rehearsal of a drama designed for the public gaze and enacted upon a
stage; or, more properly, a pantomime, dim and figurative, but most
impressive. Might it not, indeed, be a rehearsal of some sort--private
theatricals--make-believe? But that scene at midnight--that could not be
make-believe! No, nor was this scene in the garden. It was in
earnest--in deadliest earnest; there was about it something sinister and
threatening; and it was the realisation of this--the realisation that there

was something here not right, something demanding scrutiny--which
kept me chained to my uncomfortable perch, minute after minute.
But nothing further happened, and I realised, at last, that if I was to
escape an agonising cramp in the leg, I must get down. I put my feet on
the ladder, and then paused for a last look about the grounds. My eye
was caught by a flutter of white among the trees. Someone was walking
along one of the paths; in a moment, straining forward, I saw it was the
woman, and