"Come in!" said he.
And Zenobia entered. The details of the interview that followed
being unknown to me,--while, notwithstanding, it would be a pity
quite to lose the picturesqueness of the situation,--I shall attempt
to sketch it, mainly from fancy, although with some general grounds
of surmise in regard to the old man's feelings.
She gazed wonderingly at the dismal chamber. Dismal to her, who
beheld it only for an instant; and how much more so to him, into
whose brain each bare spot on the ceiling, every tatter of the
paper-hangings, and all the splintered carvings of the mantelpiece,
seen wearily through long years, had worn their several prints!
Inexpressibly miserable is this familiarity with objects that have
been from the first disgustful.
"I have received a strange message," said Zenobia, after a moment's
silence, "requesting, or rather enjoining it upon me, to come hither.
Rather from curiosity than any other motive,--and because, though a
woman, I have not all the timidity of one,--I have complied. Can it
be you, sir, who thus summoned me?"
"It was," answered Moodie.
"And what was your purpose?" she continued. "You require charity,
perhaps? In that case, the message might have been more fitly worded.
But you are old and poor, and age and poverty should be allowed
their privileges. Tell me, therefore, to what extent you need my aid."
"Put up your purse," said the supposed mendicant, with an
inexplicable smile. "Keep it,--keep all your wealth,--until I demand
it all, or none! My message had no such end in view.
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