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Title: The Devil StoneAuthor: Beatrice Heron-Maxwell* A Project Gutenberg of Australia eBook *eBook No.: 0605851h.htmlLanguage: EnglishDate first posted: August 2006Date most recently updated: August 2006This eBook was produced by: Richard ScottProject Gutenberg of Australia eBooks are created from printed editionswhich are in the public domain in Australia, unless a copyright noticeis included. We do NOT keep any eBooks in compliance with a particularpaper edition.Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check thecopyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing thisfile.This eBook is made available at no cost and with almost no restrictionswhatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the termsof the Project Gutenberg of Australia License which may be viewed online athttp://gutenberg.net.au/licence.htmlTo contact Project Gutenberg of Australia go to http://gutenberg.net.au
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It was in the dusky, tepid twilight of a particularly hot,vaporous, drowsy day at Aix-les-bains, in Savoy, that I passedthrough the hotel garden, and prepared to take a languid strollthrough the streets of the little town. I was tired of having nothingto do and no one to talk to; the other people staying at the Hotel del'Europe were mostly foreigners, and, apart from that, entirelyuninteresting; and as to my father, he was almost a nonentity to meat present, till his "course" was completed. From early morn to dewyeve he was immersed in the waters, either outwardly or inwardly, orboth; and beyond occasional glimpses of him, arrayed in a costumeresembling that of an Arab sheikh, being conveyed in pomp and a sedanchair to or from the baths, I was, figuratively speaking, an orphanuntil table d' hôte.
As I crossed the verandah some one rose from a long chair, and,throwing his book down, said, "Where are you going, Miss Durant? MayI come too?"
"If you like," I answered, politely but indifferently; "I am onlygoing to look for spoons."
"For--?"
"Spoons. I am collecting, you know; it is something to do--and onecan always give them away when one is tired of them."
So we sauntered along, side by side; and as we did so I began tofeel less bored, and more reconciled to the trouble of existence, andfinally amused and interested and flattered.
For this quiet-looking middle-aged man--to whom my father hadintroduced me two days before, as an old friend of his, and whom Ihad mentally summed tip as "Rather handsome, clever perhaps,conceited possibly, and married probably"--was making himselfagreeable as only a cultivated, polished man of the world, who wishesto make a favourable impression, can; and gradually I found myselfacknowledging that his dark, intellectual face, with its crown ofwaving, iron-grey hair, was something more than handsome, and thathis cleverness was suflicient to carry him beyond conceit, whileapparently it did not set him above a very evident enjoyment of agirl's society and conversation. He had already learnt most of mytastes and occupations, and drawn from me, by a magnetic sympathy,some confessions as to my inmost thoughts and aspirations, telling mein return that he was travelling wearily in search of rest,authoritatively ordered by his doctor; and he was deploring hislonely bachelorhood, when my attention was attracted by some quaintspoons half hidden amongst other dull silver things in aforsaken-looking little shop to which our wanderings had led usthrough narrow, dingy byways.
"I wonder how much they are," I said; and, asking me to waitoutside, Colonel Haughton disappeared into the obscure interior. Iremained gazing through the window for a moment, then, impelled bywhat idle impulse I know not, I walked slowly on.
The sound of a casement opening just over my head and a femininelaugh arrested me, and I looked up. It was a curious laugh, low andcontrolled, but with a malicious mockery in it that seemed a fitending to some scathing speech; and just inside the open lattice, herarms resting on the sill and chin dropped lightly on her claspedhands, leant the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. It was but aglimpse of auburn hair on a white forehead, of eyes like brownpansies, and parted lips that looked like scarlet petals against theperfect pallor of her rounded cheeks, but it is photographed for everon my brain. For, as I looked, a man's hand and arm, brown, lean, andvery supple, with nervous fingers, on one of which a green stoneflashed, clutching a poniard, came round her neck, and plunged thedagger, slanting-wise, deep down into her heart. The smile on thebeautiful lips quivered and fixed, but no sound came from them, andthe eyes turned up and closed; and as she swayed towards the openwindow, the spell that was upon me broke, and with a shuddering cry Ifled. On, on--blindly, madly, desperately--with no sense or thoughtor feeling save an overwhelming horror. A red mist seemed to closeround me and wall me in, and as I fought against it I felt mystrength fail, and all was dark and still.
Somewhere in the darkness a voice speaking, the touch of a hand onmy face, a glimpse of light, a sense of pain that some one wassuffering, then consciousness and memory. My father's anxious facebent over me, and his voice, as though from a distance, said, "Theo,are you better, dear? No, don't get up--rest, and take this." And,sinking back, I vaguely understood that I was in my own room at thehotel, and that a stranger, a doctor no doubt, was present. Heenjoined absolute quiet till he saw me again, and asked that heshould be informed at once if there was any recurrence of fainting.Later, when I was in a condition to explain the origin of thisattack, he would be able to prescribe for me. The light of dawn wasstruggling through the curtains, and I knew that I must have beenunconscious for many hours. With the effort to banish allrecollections of the terrible scene I had witnessed, came lethargy,and later, deep and dreamless sleep.
Some days of seclusion and rest partially restored my health andspirits, and I began to feel that what had passed had been a sort ofevil dream, a terror that were best forgotten. My father when heheard my story was at first incredulous; then, impressed in spite ofhimself by my earnestness, he gave an unwilling belief to it, but heentreated me to mention it to no one save himself. He could find noaccount of a murder in the local papers, nor could he ascertainwhether the tragedy I saw was known to have taken place, and as bedid not wish my name to be introduced in any inquiry he allowed thematter to drop. To him I spoke of it no more, but the remembrance ofit would not be wholly banished. I was haunted by the sight of thatlovely face, and the sound of that laugh with its dreadful sequel.And a strange fancy had come to me also that the face was in some wayfamiliar to me; I would lie with closed eyes for hours, seeking invain to recall the resemblance that just eluded me. One daymeditating thus I roused myself from my reverie, and met my ownreflection in a mirror that hung opposite. Breathless I gazed, whilea new terror took possession of me. There was the resemblance I hadsought: there were the auburn hair, the deep dark eyes, thecolourless face with scarlet lips just parted. Not so beautiful,perhaps, as the ofle I had seen at the window; indeed, as I graduallycomprehended it was myself I gazed upon, I could see no beauty in thefamiliar features; but so like--so wonderfully, terribly like! Andthen for the first time I began to doubt the reality of my vision,and to long eagerly for the power to put it from me. I determined torest and dream no longer, and that afternoon I descended to thegarden.
"At last!" said Colonel Haughton, taking both my hands. "I thoughtwe were never going to see you again. I have been reproaching myselfwith having overtired you that day--with having left you: I had nointention of remaining away from you for more than a moment, and Iwant to explain what detained me. When I came out and found you gone,I concluded you had returned here, and hurrying on I was fortunateenough to reach you just before you fainted. Your father tells me youhave had a touch of malaria, and I hope---But I distress you, MissDurant; I am tiring you. Let me find you a comfortable chair andleave you to rest."
"No, no," I cried eagerly; "stay;--I will sit here. Tell me, wheredid you get that ring?"
On his finger shone a curious green stone, that seemed thecounter-part of the one I had noticed on the hand that held thedagger.
"That is exactly what I want to tell you," he said. "After gettingyour spoons for you, I noticed, resting on a carved bracket, thisring. It is a very curious stone. You see it looks quite dull now,yet it can sparkle with all the brilliancy of a diamond. And on theback of it is cut part of the head of a snake. I have only seen aring like this once before, and that was long ago in a hill temple inIndia. They called it the Devil Stone, and worshipped it, and theytold me the tradition of it. Centuries before, this stone had beendiscovered by a holy man, embedded in a sacred relic, and he made ashrine for it, whence it was stolen by robbers. The next stage in itshistory was its division into two equal parts by a Maharajah, who hadthem set into rings, one of which he wore always himself, and theother he bestowed on his Maharanee, whom he loved greatly. One day hefound it missing from her finger, and in a fit of jealousy he killedher, afterwards destroying himself. His ring passed into thepossession of the Brahmins, but hers could never be traced."
"They say that eventually the two will be reunited, and that untilthis happens the lost ring will fufil its mission. It is supposed toimpel its wearer to deeds of violence, and to his own destruction;and when the evil spirit within it is gratified, it flashes andsparkles. They say, too, that if you cast it from you, you throw awaywith it the greatest happiness of your life and lose the chance of itfor ever. Yet, if you wear it, it dominates your fate. The instant Isaw it, I recognised the lost ring, and asked the man his price forit. He refused to tell me--said it was not for sale; and I left theshop, because I did not wish to keep you waiting longer; but Ireturned next day, and succeeded in obtaining it. The old man, acurious old Italian, was very reticent about it, but he seemed tohave gathered some knowledge of the tradition, and said it had the"evil eye," and was neither good to sell nor to wear. It had beensold to him by a compatriot, he said, who had a dark history--a manwho was ever too ready with his knife, and who had come to a bad end.I told him I would steal it, and he might charge me what he liked forsome other purchases, so we settled it that way."
"Are you not afraid to wear it?" I asked. "It makes me shudder tolook at it. There is some deadly fascination about it, I amsure."
"I am afraid of nothing," he said lightly, "except yourdispleasure, Miss Theo. If it annoys you I will not wear it, but Iconfess it has a very great fascination for me. I do not believe insuperstition, but I like the stone for its antiquity and strangehistory. Some day I will send it to my friends the Brahmins;meanwhile it inspires me with no evil propensity, and since it hasinterested you I am grateful to it so far."
So I resolved to put the ring and its story out of my mind, and tooccupy myself only with the new interest that had dawned upon mylife. The next few days went by so happily, and it seemed so naturalto me that Lionel Haughton should be always at my side, that I didnot stay to ask myself the reason for our close companionship--yet Ithink within my heart of hearts I knew.
And each day, each hour I spent with him, was bringing us nearertogether and binding us with ties that would not easily bebroken.
"Haughton is very much improved," said my father one day, "since Iknew him many years ago--his brother was my great friend, and I didnot, see much of this one--he seems to have spent a good deal of hislife in India, and I fancy it has affected his health. I suppose hewon't return there. I must persuade him to come and pay us a visitwhen we go home, eh, Theo?"
One evening, when our stay was drawing to a close, we proposed togo to the Casino, where I wished to try my luck at gambling. "I amalways lucky if things go by chance," I said, "and I have neglectedmy opportunity here sadly. Let us go and gamble tonight, and I willwin fortunes for all of us." Colonel Haughton did not, however, joinus as usual at table d'hôte that evening, and a note handed tome afterwards from him told me that he had been feeling ill, but wasnow better, and would meet us later at the Casino. It was the firsttime I had ever played, and before long it became apparent that myprophecy about my luck was being fulfilled: I won, and won, and wonagain, till a heap of gold and notes was in front of me, and I wasthe centre of all eyes at the table. I played recklessly, and yet Icould not lose, till suddenly my attention was distracted by thearrival of Colonel Haughton, who leant over my shoulder and placedhis stake next to mine. As he did so the ring seemed me to emit afaint sparkle, and I felt as if my careless good fortune had desertedme. I wanted to win now, whereas before I had played for theexcitement only, with the true gambler spirit. And yet from thatmoment I lost. He also lost, heavily--so heavily that I wondered ifhe were rich enough to take it as philosophically as he appearedto.
Nevertheless so large a sum had I won at first that, though muchdiminished, it was still a small fortune that I gathered up when weleft the tables.
"You brought me bad luck," I said to Colonel Haughton, as wewalked back to the hotel. "Do you know, I think it was yourring."
"I would never wear it again if I thought that," he answered. Thenas we reached the garden, and my father passed on to the salon,"Theo," he continued, "stay a moment. I have something to tell you Mydarling, I love you; I love you more than life: will you try to carefor me a little in return? I want you for my wife. I worshipyou!"
Ah, Lionel! beloved! it scarcely needed the assurance of your lovefor me to bring me the certainty of mine for you! If ever the gatesof Heaven open to mortal eyes, they stood ajar for us that night; thestarlit garden was changed into a veritable Eden, and we walked withwondering joy therein, and thought not of an angel with flamingsword, who waited silently to drive us from our Paradise into outerdarkness.
It was scarcely noon, the following day, when we began the ascentof the Dent du Chat, one of the mountain peaks that tower aboveAix.
"I feel as if I had wings, and must soar into a higheratmosphere," I had said gaily; "and since we cannot fly, let usclimb. I want to reach the top of that mountain with you, and leavethe world behind us. Let us go."
We were to ride up to a certain distance, and then dismount andgain the highest point on foot.
Three guides accompanied us, following leisurely, talking andgesticulating to each other, and paying little heed to us, save anoccasional frantic rush at the mules when we approached an awkwardcorner of the zigzag pathway, which had the effect of adding amomentary uncertainity and danger to our otherwise tranquil ascent.We were not sorry when, after two or three hours of this progress,the guides told us we must halt, and that they would remain in chargeof the mules till we returned to them. It was rather a toilsomeclimb, and the sun was beating fiercely down upon us; but we feltrewarded when, not far from the top, we reached a plateau where wecould rest, while a cool breeze from the distant snowy peaks revivedus.
"Here is an arm-chair all ready for you," Lionel said, leading meto where a soft couch of mossy turf lay beneath the shadow of anupright, projecting piece of rock. A yard or two farther on, theprecipitous side of the mountain descended, sheer and impassable downalmost to its foot, terminating in a dark and narrow gorge betweentwo ridges. Away on the left far below us nestled Aix, and by itsside the Lac du Bourget, with its island monastery surrounded bywater as blue as Geneva's own.
"How lovely it is!" I exclaimed; "I never knew before howbeautiful life could be."
"Nor I," he answered; "I have been waiting for my wife to teachme." And then he told me of his life in India, and of many adventureshe had had, and finally we spoke again of the ring and of my strangeand sudden illness on that day.
"Some day I will tell you all about it," I said, "and why I havesuch a curious feeling against the ring. I wish you would not wearit; yet now that you possess it I have a sort of superstitious dreadthat if you part from it, it will revenge itself upon you in someway. I am sure I saw it sparkle last night when the cards wentagainst us. You were so terribly unlucky."
"Unlucky at cards, lucky in love," he quoted; but I noticed ashadow on his face. "What have you done with all your wealth, littlegambler?--you have not had time to spend it yet."
"Here it is," I answered, drawing out my pocket-book, in which Ihad stuffed the notes; "but I have taken a dislike to it--I shallgive it away, I think. I would rather be lucky in another way. "
and I laid it down beside me on the grass.
"I will send the ring to India on my wedding day," Lionelexclaimed; "till then will you wear it for me?" and, drawing it fromhis finger, he was about to place it upon mine.
But I would not allow him to do so, and laying it on the banknotes I said, "There's a contradiction! Good luck and bad luck sideby side! Let us leave them there," I added, half laughing, half inearnest, "and start again fresh."
He turned suddenly away, and, fearing he was vexed, I laid my handupon his arm; but he shook it gently off and then I saw he wassingularly pale, and that his breathing was quick and short, and hiseyes had a strangely troubled and intent look. "Lionel, you are ill,"I cried. "Oh, what is it, love? what can I do for you?"
"It is nothing," he said faintly, but his voice was changed: "itwill pass off. I will return to the guides and get some water. Waithere till I come back."
"Let me come with you," I entreated, but he shook his head, andsaid he was better and would be quite well if I would do as hewished; then he began the descent. I watched him for a few moments,till he was lost to view at a bend of the mountain, before returningto my seat. But the sun had gone in, and it seemed cold and dark, anda dull heavy weight rested on my heart. I was lonely there withouthim, and the moments dragged on slowly and drearily, till I felt thesuspense and stillness unendurable.
I decided I would wait only five minutes more and then I wouldfollow him, and, leaning back wearily, I closed my eyes. A sort offaintness came over me--for I was tired, and the sudden change fromperfect happiness to this anxiety, this vague alarm, had chilled andstupefied me.
It may have been a few moments after, or longer (I cannot tell),but I became aware suddenly that, although no sound of footsteps hadreached me, there was some one near. I remained absolutely still andlistened intently, and though there was no tangible movement orsound, there was an impalpable stir in the stillness round me, somevague breath that seemed to speak of danger. I felt paralysed withthe same powerlessness that had seized me when the tragedy at thewindow was enacted before my eyes. It flashed into my mind thatperhaps it was a thief, attracted by the notes and ring lying besideme, who had crept behind believing that I slept. My hand was almosttouching them, and as I glanced down to see if I could reach themwithout moving, I noticed with a thrill of indescribable horror thatthe green stone was sparkling brilliantly with a thousand rays ofscintillating light.
And then--something stirred behind me, and round my neck crept ahand, holding a short sharp knife such as Indians carry, and poisedit over my heart as if to strike. With an instantaneous desperatethrob of agonised revolt against my impending fate, I grasped thering and flung it towards the precipice. As it flashed through theair the knife dropped, and the murderer sprang to the edge in a vaineffort to catch the stone ere it fell. He stumbled, missed hisfooting, and, with one terrible cry and his hands grasping the airwildly, he fell backwards into the abyss.
And it was Lionel--my beloved!
When the guides came to look for us I told them smilingly that theEnglish gentleman had dropped his ring and in trying to find it hadslipped and fallen over the precipice.
They led me down the mountain with reverent care and hushed stepsand voices; for they said to each other, "Figure to yourself thisEnglish colonel was in love with the beautiful young lady, and he hasperished before her eyes,--it is a terrible thing, and it has turnedher brain."
And when my father told me gently, some days after, that they hadfound him and he was to be buried that day in the little cemetery, Ilaughed outright.
But I have never smiled since--and I am quite sane now--only Ithink I have done with laughter for the rest of my life. And Isome-times wonder why these things should have been; and if there isany explanation of them, save one.
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