Oke slowly, playing mechanically
with a fork, and picking out the pattern of the tablecloth. "That is just
the extraordinary circumstance, that, so far as any one knows, nothing ever
did happen there; and yet that room has an evil reputation. No member of
our family, they say, can bear to sit there alone for more than a minute.
You see, William evidently cannot."
"Have you ever seen or heard anything strange there?" I asked of my host.
He shook his head. "Nothing," he answered curtly, and lit his cigar.
"I presume you have not," I asked, half laughing, of Mrs. Oke, "since you
don't mind sitting in that room for hours alone? How do you explain this
uncanny reputation, since nothing ever happened there?"
"Perhaps something is destined to happen there in the future," she
answered, in her absent voice. And then she suddenly added, "Suppose you
paint my portrait in that room?"
Mr. Oke suddenly turned round. He was very white, and looked as if he were
going to say something, but desisted.
"Why do you worry Mr. Oke like that?" I asked, when he had gone into his
smoking-room with his usual bundle of papers. "It is very cruel of you,
Mrs.
Pages:
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51