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Updated: June 17, 2025
"I do not know at what moment it was, but some time when I was carrying Wynston, or laying him in the bed," continued Marston, who spoke rather like one pursuing a horrible reverie, than as a man relating facts to a listener, "I heard a light tread, and soft breathing in the lobby. A thunderclap would have stunned me less that minute. I moved softly, holding my breath, to the door.
"Yes, indeed, mademoiselle Sir Wynston Berkley, a gay London gentleman, and a cousin of Mr. Marston's," she replied. "Ha a cousin!" exclaimed the young lady, with a little more surprise in her tone than seemed altogether called for "a cousin? oh, then, that is the reason of his visit. Do, pray, madame, tell me all about him; I am so much afraid of strangers, and what you call men of the world.
At supper, Marston was apparently in unusually good spirits. Sir Wynston and he chatted gaily and fluently upon many subjects, grave and gay. Among them the inexhaustible topic of popular superstition happened to turn up, and especially the subject of strange prophecies of the fates and fortunes of individuals, singularly fulfilled in the events of their afterlife.
Sir Wynston appeared for a moment a little disconcerted too, but rallied speedily, and pursued his detail of his doings at that fair town of Normandy.
He spoke truth no one knew it better than I; for I am the murderer." Dr. Danvers was so shocked and overwhelmed that he was utterly unable to speak. "Aye, sir, in point of law and of morals, literally and honestly, the murderer of Wynston Berkley. I am resolved you shall know it all.
While this young lady was making her toilet for the evening, and while Sir Wynston Berkley was worrying himself with conjectures as to whether Marston's evil looks, when he encountered him that morning in the passage, existed only in his own fancy, or were, in good truth, very grim and significant realities, Marston himself was striding alone through the wildest and darkest solitudes of his park, haunted by his own unholy thoughts, and, it may be, by those other evil and unearthly influences which wander, as we know, "in desert places."
Sir Wynston, however, smiled upon his cousin as if his voice had been melody, and his looks all sunshine. "Very good, Marston, just as you please," he said; "only don't be later than one, as I shall be getting into bed about that hour." "Perhaps, upon second thoughts, it is as well to defer what I have to say," said Marston, musingly.
"This cursed dream," he resumed abruptly, "that everyday enslaves me more and more, has reference to that that occurrence about Wynston Berkley he is the hero of the hellish illusion.
These little matters completed, Sir Wynston stirred his fire, leaned back in his easy chair, and smiled blandly over the sunny prospect of his imaginary triumphs. It here becomes necessary to describe, in a few words, some of the local relations of Sir Wynston's apartments.
"Aye, the view, to be sure; there is a good view from it," said Marston, with as much of his usual manner as he could resume so soon; and, at the same time, carelessly opening the door again, he walked in, accompanied by Sir Wynston, and both stood at the window together, looking out in silence upon a prospect which neither of them saw.
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