I began to long for a catastrophe. If the noble temper of
Hollingsworth's soul were doomed to be utterly corrupted by the too
powerful purpose which had grown out of what was noblest in him; if the
rich and generous qualities of Zenobia's womanhood might not save her;
if Priscilla must perish by her tenderness and faith, so simple and so
devout, then be it so! Let it all come! As for me, I would look on,
as it seemed my part to do, understandingly, if my intellect could
fathom the meaning and the moral, and, at all events, reverently and
sadly. The curtain fallen, I would pass onward with my poor individual
life, which was now attenuated of much of its proper substance, and
diffused among many alien interests.
Meanwhile, Zenobia and her companion had retreated from the window.
Then followed an interval, during which I directed my eves towards the
figure in the boudoir. Most certainly it was Priscilla, although
dressed with a novel and fanciful elegance. The vague perception of
it, as viewed so far off, impressed me as if she had suddenly passed
out of a chrysalis state and put forth wings. Her hands were not now
in motion. She had dropt her work, and sat with her head thrown back,
in the same attitude that I had seen several times before, when she
seemed to be listening to an imperfectly distinguished sound.
Again the two figures in the drawing-room became visible. They were
now a little withdrawn from the window, face to face, and, as I could
see by Zenobia's emphatic gestures, were discussing some subject in
which she, at least, felt a passionate concern. By and by she broke
away, and vanished beyond my ken. Westervelt approached the window,
and leaned his forehead against a pane of glass, displaying the sort of
smile on his handsome features which, when I before met him, had let me
into the secret of his gold-bordered teeth. Every human being, when
given over to the Devil, is sure to have the wizard mark upon him, in
one form or another. I fancied that this smile, with its peculiar
revelation, was the Devil's signet on the Professor.
This man, as I had soon reason to know, was endowed with a cat-like
circumspection; and though precisely the most unspiritual quality in
the world, it was almost as effective as spiritual insight in making
him acquainted with whatever it suited him to discover. He now proved
it, considerably to my discomfiture, by detecting and recognizing me,
at my post of observation. Perhaps I ought to have blushed at being
caught in such an evident scrutiny of Professor Westervelt and his
affairs. Perhaps I did blush. Be that as it might, I retained
presence of mind enough not to make my position yet more irksome by the
poltroonery of drawing back.