He desired me to
be his friend, and I could not have resisted if I would. He made me go
with him even on his truant expeditions, and carry his game bag along
the banks of the Tacony, or up the marshes of Rancocus. Yet it was a
happy servitude; for beneath his impetuous mastery was a soul of
devotion. He loved like Jove, and permitted no interposition in his
flame; his dogmatism and force were barbarous, but he gave like a child
and fought like a lion. I saw him last as he was about to enter on
business, in the twenty-first year of his age, an anxious young man with
black hair in natural ringlets, a pale brow, gray eyes wide apart, and
a narrow but wilful chin. He was ever on pivot, ready to spring. And
murdered!"
Duff Salter looked at the door standing ajar, attracted there by some
movement, or light, or shadow, and the very image he was describing met
his gaze. There were the black ringlets, the pale forehead, the anxious
yet wilful expression, and the years of youthful manhood. It was nothing
in this world if not William Zane!
Duff Salter felt paralyzed for a minute, as the blood flowed back to his
heart, and a sense of fright overcame him. Then he moved forward on
tip-toe, as if the image might dissolve. It did dissolve as he advanced;
with a tripping motion it receded and left a naked space.
Pages:
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204