The Ghost by Arnold Bennett Fiction Literary

<p><strong>Lord Clarenceux had met her then said Sir Cyril speaking of Rosetta Rosa the opera's soprano with the golden throat.</strong> I was drawn to the woman and listened eagerly. She merely said she would think it over. She wouldn't sign a contract. After a week's negotiation I was compelled to own myself beaten. Nothing happened for a time. She sang in Paris and America and took her proper place as the first soprano in the world.</p><p>Later I spoke to her myself.</p><p>He is dead now she told me. You have heard -- everyone knows -- that I was once engaged to Lord Clarenceux. He was a friend. He loved me -- he died --</p><p>Lord Clarenceux must have been a great man I said.</p><p>That is exactly what he was. I wish I could describe him to you but I cannot. He was immensely rich . . . he fell in love with me and offered me his hand. I declined -- I was afraid of him. He said he would shoot himself. And he would have done it; so I accepted. I should have ended by loving him. Lord Clarenceux died. And I am alone. I was terribly lonely after his death. I missed his jealousy . . .</p><p> </p>