"I assure you I was."
"How can I doubt it." (Ironically.)
"What on earth could keep me from you, Cecil, but business of importance."
"Very true what could?" was the somewhat softened, but still petulent rejoinder.
But why should we particularize, this quarrel ended as usual in such cases, with a kiss, and they were soon the very best of friends, apparently.
"Did you know that I do not like to live here," said Cecil, after a pause.
"I have thought you would fancy a better place, and resolved sometime since to procure one more suited to your taste."
"Do, Eugene, for this is a fearful place. Everything is so mysterious, and we have such strange neighhors. I tremble at the approach of that horrible old woman. Eugene, they have such rude visitors here, that one is not free from insult and even violence. In the next room there are voices and noises of all descriptions, to be heard at any hour of night, and what is more singular they keep perfectly quiet during the day. Sometimes I hear a heavy body fall to the floor, and often the sound of violent disputes and altercations, though I seldom distinguish the words. At others, a strange sickening effluvia finds its way through these dilapidated and crumbling walls, and almost nauseates me. At one time I contrived to look through this crevice, and saw a horrible looking old man, with a white cloth in his hand, and—ugh—I shudder when I think of it—which resembled a corpse-dress. A frightful looking man was that, Eugene,—with such a thin, ghastly face, and so frightfully wrinkled. What do you suppose they do in that room?" continued Cecil in an inquiring tone and with a thoughtful air.
"I cannot enlighten you on that point," replied the student coloring, and with an involuntary shudder. "I would if I could, but what means have I of knowing."
"What agitates you? I would like to learn the doings on the other side of that wall though. I suspect there might be some startling developments made," coutinued Cecil musingly, and without any pauses between her broken sentences. "I have suspected that this vile old woman here, who boards me, has some communication with our mysterious neighbors."
"I hope not, Cecil," (quickly and with energy.) "I hope your suspicions are groundless."
"May they prove so, Eugene, but I have a certain presentiment that they will not, I am afraid to stay here," (with great seriousness). Do not reproach me with weakness, but I feel that I am in danger. I dream continually of that old man, and the virago—and see blood upon her hand, within which glitters a sharp blade dyed with the same fluid; and then, covered with perspiration and trembling in every limb, I awake and wish you were here. Oh! Eugene, (weeping) you know not what I suffer in your absence—which seems so long, very long—both from my own outraged conscience, and those curious, indescribable forbodings.
"Calm your fears, my love, for I trust they are wholly idle, so far as harm to you is concerned. 'Tis but natural that you should be low spirited at intervals—all are."
Then he drew her to his bosom—that fond but erring girl—and with his warm passionate caresses, stilled for the present, the terrors that fed upon her heart.
Poor blighted heart of hers, it could still love, and thrilled to the touch of her lover, but it was not a calm, smoothly flowing love.
