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The Gloved Hand

Chapter 3 THE DRAMA IN THE GARDEN

Word Count: 2022    |    Released on: 30/11/2017

uring the hot nights of the previous week had been crowded into the last nine hours; I felt like a new man, and when,

The house was built in the midst of a grove of beautiful old trees, some distance back from the road, of which I could

e, and I turned to find a pleasant-faced,

sponded. "I suppose

d your breakf

. Godfr

hour ago. He was afraid hi

along the hall. "Nothing short of an earthqu

ow when I have enjoyed breakfast so much. Mrs. Hargis, after bringing in the eggs and bacon and setting a little pot of steaming coffee at my elbow, sensibly left me alone to the enjoyment of it. Ever since that morning, I have realised that, to start the day

ious Worthington Vaughan, and suddenly the wish came to me to see what lay behind it. Without much difficulty, I found the tree with the ladder against it, which we had mounted the night before. It was a long ladder, e

e attention they received was careless and inadequate. The shrubbery was too dense, grass was invading the walks, here and there a tree showed a dead lim

of it was one corner of the roof. This, however, stood out clear against the sky, and it was here, evidently, that the mysterious midnight figures had bee

was just about to descend, when two white-robed figures appeared at the edge of the open space near the house and walked slowly across it. I settle

ed to me, for moral as for physical support. I could see, too, that the hair of the feebler man was white, while that of his companion was jet black. The y

upon the other was very manifest. Both heads were bent as though in earnest talk, and for perhaps half an hour they walked s

rshipped the stars at midnight! There was something monkish about the habits which he and his companion wore, and the thought flashed into my mind t

ime, 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 spiritua

hen 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

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

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 aw

ich 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 bee

by his insistence-the answer to which he had at fir

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-belie

y 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. Some

ave, at a distance, the effect of age. I caught only a glimpse of her face before it was hidden by a clump of shrubbery, but that glimpse

r, kissing her hair, her lips, her cheeks-and the n

aw her hand go to her bosom; I saw her turn to flee. Then, to my amazement, she stopped, as thoug

would read my soul; then her face hardened with sudden resolution. Again she put

over it, and fell on the grass beneath my tr

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