"Mr. D'Arcy," I said to myself, "must know more than he has told
me." Then, of course, came thoughts about you. I wondered why you had
allowed me to drift away from you in this manner. True, I was
probably removed from Raxton immediately after my illness, when you
were very ill, as I knew; but then you had recovered!'
VII
When Winifred reached this point in her story, I said,
'And so you wondered what had become of me from your last seeing me
down to your waking up in Mr. D'Arcy's house?'
'Yes, yes, Henry. Do tell me what you were doing all that time.'
As she said these words the whole tragedy of my life returned to me
in one moment, and yet in that moment I lived over again every
dreadful incident and every dreadful detail. The spectacle on the
sands, the search for her in North Wales, the meeting in the cottage,
the frightful sight as she leapt away from me on Snowdon, the
heart-breaking search for her among the mountains, the sound of her
voice, singing by the theatre portico in the rain, the search for her
in the hideous London streets, the scenes in the studios, the
soul-blasting drama in Primrose Court--all came upon me in such a
succession of realities that the beautiful radiant creature now
talking to me seemed impossible except as a figure in a dream.
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