Good Books

"I do not know," replied Sigurd with a sigh. "It comes! But, tell
me,"--and he smiled wistfully--"it is true, dear friend--good friend--it
is all true, is it not? For you the heavens are empty? You know it!"
Lorimer flushed hotly, and then grew strangely pale. After a pause, he
said in his usual indolent way--
"Look here, Sigurd; you're romantic! I'm not. I know nothing about elves
or empty heavens. I'm all right! Don't you bother yourself about me."
The dwarf studied his face attentively, and a smile of almost fiendish
cunning suddenly illumined his thin features. He laid his weak-looking
white hand on the young man's arm and said in a lower tone--
"I will tell you what to do. Kill him!"
The last two words were uttered with such intensity of meaning that
Lorimer positively recoiled from the accents, and the terrible look
which accompanied them.
"I say, Sigurd, this won't do," he remonstrated gravely. "You mustn't
talk about killing, you know! It's not good for you.


Pages:
235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259