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Gissing, George, 1857-1903

"Veranilda"


What was that memory at the back of his mind? In the effort to draw
it forth he ground his teeth together, dug his nails into his hands.
At moments he forgot why he was wretched, and, starting up, strained
his eyes into the darkness, until he saw the face of Sagaris and
heard him speaking.
For a while he slept; but dreadful dreams soon awoke him, and,
remembering where he was, he shook with horror. Low sounds fell upon
his ear, movements, he thought, in the black night. He would have
shouted to his men, but shame kept him mute. He crossed himself and
prayed to the Virgin; then, raising his eyes, he saw through the
broken roof a space of sky in which a star shone brilliantly. It
brought him comfort; but the next moment he remembered Sagaris, and
mental anguish blended with his fears of the invisible.
Again sleep overcame him. He dreamt that an evil spirit, with a face
he knew but could not name, was pursuing him over trackless
mountains. He fled like the wind; but the spirit was close behind
him, and wherever he turned his head, he saw the familiar face
grinning a devilish mockery.


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