Obscurity, The Fourteenth Chapter
In which someone is alive who was thought to be dead.
e last read The Thirteenth Chapter, in which the widow had something the philanthropist wanted.
In the silence left behind by the storm, the mercenary awoke to a small sound. It was a gentle creaking, he thought, followed by a very soft thud. Without lighting a candle, he stepped from his room, opening the tall doors that once belonged to the proprietor, and peered out into the hall.
Though the estate was entirely dark and entirely silent, the hall was flooded with moonlight. A large window looked out upon the river; its shutters opened to let the sky fall in as the curtains rustled against an imperceptible wind. He saw the captain first, silently returning to his bedchamber, only the closing of his door visible amidst the shadows, then he saw the widow, standing in the moonlit glow.
She appeared pale, pensive—a silhouette perfectly captured in the rectangle of light that fell through the window frame. She did nothing but stand perfectly still and, for a time, the mercenary wondered whether she really stood there at all or whether there were some other monument casting a shadow upon the sky. Then at last, her lashes closed against the night and her hair stirred delicately in the breeze, reviving his assurances of her presence once more.
He wondered if she knew of his presence, if she could feel it behind her, if she could perceive, as she looked out on her plantation grounds, that there was someone who looked at her-who was moved by her and was tantalized by her. But then, a hand reached toward one shutter and another toward the other, closing them tightly against the night and sealing them into the darkness with a soft thud.
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