The Black Swan

“I don’t think she does.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“Well, I suppose I’ve forgotten for the most part. It was over so quickly. I just woke... saw the flames... and within half an hour the fire was out. Besides, it looks different here now.”

“I wish Phillida was not so ... excitable.”

“It’s part of her charm. She is always so full of enthusiasm and energy. Everything she does and says has to be with that exuberance. She enjoys life.”

“And for that reason she can sometimes be too deeply affected by it.” Roland was in bed watching me. The last thing I did before joining him was draw back the curtains because we both liked to awake to daylight.

As I pulled them back I gazed down, as I always did, at the seat under the oak tree.

As I did so, a great shock ran through me. Someone was on the seat. I saw him clearly in the light of the stars and that which came from our lighted room.

He rose from the seat. He was wearing an opera hat and cloak. I stood there, as though petrified... unable to speak... unable to move. And as I did so he took off his hat and bowed. He looked straight at me. I could see clearly the widow’s peak on his forehead.

It was the same man whom I had seen from my window in the London house. It was my father’s murderer whom I had helped to send to the gallows. I heard Roland’s voice. “Lucie .. , Lucie... what’s wrong?”

I turned away from the window, sank into a chair and covered my face with my hands.

Roland was beside me. “What is it, Lucie? What’s the matter?”

“It... it’s down there.”

He went to the window.

“What... what is down there? What has frightened you?”

I got up and stood beside him. There was no one below.

“I saw him ... I saw him clearly. He was... just as he had been outside the house in London. It was Fergus O’Neill.”

“Fergus O’Neill,” he repeated the name blankly.

“The man who killed my father.”

“Lucie, be calm. Tell me exactly what you saw. Who was it you thought you saw down there?”

“It was Fergus O’Neill,” I repeated. “I gave evidence against him. I saw him before he killed my father. He was waiting outside the house for him ... I looked down and saw him the night before... and when he killed my father I recognized him.”

“Lucie, let’s try to see what this is all about. How could he be there? He was hanged, wasn’t he?”

I nodded.

“You think it was ... ?”

“I think he has come back to haunt me.”

“Oh no! You imagined it.”

“I didn’t. I saw him clearly. I wasn’t thinking of him. Why should I imagine him... now... here?”

“Come to bed. You’re all right now. There’s nothing to be afraid of here... with me.”

I lay in his arms while he talked to me, lovingly, soothingly. I poured out my fears to him, how I was afraid that I had condemned the wrong man. That was when I had seen him almost immediately afterward, standing in the street where I had seen him the night before he killed my father. It had worried me a great deal at the time, and then I had convinced myself that I was being foolish. Rebecca had said that I imagined I saw him and I had begun to believe her. But he was the man. There was no doubt of it. There was the distinctive way in which his hair grew... “I think you imagined it.”

“Why should I ... suddenly? I saw him clearly.”

“It’s this old place. There are stories about the ghosts here. Wasn’t there supposed to be someone who sat on that seat?”

I nodded.

 “Well, that’s just the place where you would expect to see a ghost and with that on your mind ...”

“It wasn’t on my mind. I hadn’t thought of it for some time.”

“It couldn’t possibly be anything but imagination.”

“You don’t believe people can come back after death?”

“No,” he said emphatically.

“Even if that death was violent... even if someone had helped to send them to the gallows?”

“No. I don’t believe it, nor must you. You were tired and images from the past came into your mind. You say you saw him before... the murder. Well, that image must have been somewhere in your mind. You were sleepy, and there has been all that talk about the garden being haunted. The picture came into your mind and you thought you saw it.”

“You make it all seem so reasonable ... so logical.”

“There must be a logical reason for everything, Lucie, but sometimes it’s hard to find.”

“You’re making me feel so much better, Roland.”

“Then I am glad, my dearest.”

He had taken a lock of my hair and was twirling it in his fingers. He said gently, “I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you always from all the ghosts on earth.” I lay against him, drawing comfort. I supposed I had imagined it. But I could not think why, for I had not thought of the man for a long time. Roland said suddenly, “It’s still on your mind, isn’t it? This proves it. Do you know, I think we ought to get away from here.”

“Get away!”

“I have been thinking of this for some time. You see, this is your house. You are my wife now and I think we ought to have a home of our own-provided by me.”

“I couldn’t give up Manor Grange.”