f Evelyn and Basil Bainrothe--all my wrongs, beginning at the
heart-betrayal of Claude, and ending with the immurement I was suffering
now at the hands of his father--all my strange life at Beauseincourt,
with its episode of horror, its one reality of perfect happiness too
fair to last, its singular revelations, its warm and deep attachments,
my fearful and nightmare-like experience on the burning ship, the level
raft, with the green wares curling above it, the rescue, the snare into
which I had inevitably fallen, the Inquisition-walls closing around
me--all were there in one vivid and overwhelming mental summary!

I think if ever madness came near me in my life, it came that night, so
crushing, so terrific was this weight which, Sysiphus-like, memory was
rolling to the summit of the present moment, to fall back again by the
power of its own weight to the valley below--the valley of despair---
and destroy all that it encountered or found beneath it. Yet, by the
time the sun was up, my eyes were sealed again in slumber.

Before I close this chapter, it will be as well to describe the tableau
I had caught sight of through the open parlor-door when I tempted my
fate and failed.

Standing close in the shadow, so that, even if directed toward me
unconsciously, the glance of those within, I knew, could not penetrate
the mystery of my presence, I scanned with a sad derision, the scene
before me. With a glance I received the impression that it required
moments to convey in narrative.

On the hearth-rug, with his back to the fire, his legs apart, his
coat-skirts parted behind him, stood Basil Bainrothe, monarch of all he
surveyed, with extended hand, evidently demonstrating some axiom to the
two visitors ensconced on the sofa near him, who, with the exception of
their booted feet, and the straps of their pantaloons, were beyond my
angle of vision. On the opposite side of the chimney from these
inscrutable guests sat two ladies, elaborately dressed and rouged, in
whom I recognized at a glance Evelyn Erle and Mrs. Raymond. Just before
I vanished, Claude Bainrothe, courteous in manner and elegant in
exterior, approached them from the other parlor, in time to witness the
_entree_ of Gregory, to which I have referred, and to salute him
cordially. That these were all confederates I could not doubt, and
prepared to aid each other. How could I know that one pair of those
evident feet belonged to the invisible body of a man who was on