the queen of hearts-第47章

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volume　of　the　_Times_　to　arrive；　and　he　should　then　devote　the
rest　of　the　afternoon　to　his　work。　After　hearing　what　his　plans
were；　Mrs。　Carling　suggested　that　he　should　ride　out　after　he　had
done　his　letters；　so　as　to　get　some　exercise　at　the　fine　part　of
the　day；　and　she　then　reminded　him　that　a　longer　time　than　usual
had　elapsed　since　he　had　been　to　see　a　certain　old　pensioner　of
his；　who　had　nursed　him　as　a　child；　and　who　was　now　bedridden；　in
a　village　at　some　distance；　called　Tringweighton。　Although　the
rector　saw　no　immediate　necessity　for　making　this　charitable
visit；　the　more　especially　as　the　ride　to　the　village　and　back；
and　the　intermediate　time　devoted　to　gossip；　would　occupy　at
least　two　hours　and　a　half；　he　assented　to　his　wife's　proposal；
perceiving　that　she　urged　it　with　unusual　earnestness；　and　being
unwilling　to　thwart　her；　even　in　a　trifle；　at　a　time　when　she　was
ill。

Accordingly；　his　horse　was　at　the　door　at　twelve　precisely。
Impatient　to　get　back　to　the　precious　volume　of　the　_Times；_　he
rode　so　much　faster　than　usual；　and　so　shortened　his　visit　to　the
old　woman；　that　he　was　home　again　by　a　quarter　past　two。
Ascertaining　from　the　servant　who　opened　the　door　that　the　volume
had　been　left　by　Mr。　Rambert's　messenger　punctually　at　two；　he
ran　up　to　his　wife's　room　to　tell　her　about　his　visit　before　he
secluded　himself　for　the　rest　of　the　afternoon　over　his　work。　On
entering　the　bedroom　he　found　it　still　darkened；　and　he　was
struck　by　a　smell　of　burned　paper　in　it。

His　wife　（who　was　now　dressed　in　her　wrapper　and　lying　on　the
sofa）　accounted　for　the　smell　by　telling　him　that　she　had　fancied
the　room　felt　close；　and　that　she　had　burned　some　paperbeing
afraid　of　the　cold　air　if　she　opened　the　windowto　fumigate　it。
Her　eyes　were　evidently　still　weak；　for　she　kept　her　hand　over
them　while　she　spoke。　After　remaining　with　her　long　enough　to
relate　the　few　trivial　events　of　his　ride；　Mr。　Carling　descended
to　his　study　to　occupy　himself　at　last　with　the　volume　of　the
_Times_。

It　lay　on　his　table　in　the　shape　of　a　large　flat　brown　paper
package。　On　proceeding　to　undo　the　covering；　he　observed　that　it
had　been　very　carelessly　tied　up。　The　strings　were　crooked　and
loosely　knotted；　and　the　direction　bearing　his　name　and　address；
instead　of　being　in　the　middle　of　the　paper；　was　awkwardly　folded
over　at　the　edge　of　the　volume。　However；　his　business　was　with
the　inside　of　the　parcel；　so　he　tossed　away　the　covering　and　the
string；　and　began　at　once　to　hunt　through　the　volume　for　the
particular　number　of　the　paper　which　he　wished　first　to　consult。

He　soon　found　it；　with　the　report　of　the　speeches　delivered　by
the　members　of　the　deputation；　and　the　answer　returned　by　the
minister。　After　reading　through　the　report；　and　putting　a　mark　in
the　place　where　it　occurred；　he　turned　to　the　next　day's　number
of　the　paper；　to　see　what　further　hints　on　the　subject　the
letters　addressed　to　the　editor　might　happen　to　contain。

To　his　inexpressible　vexation　and　amazement；　he　found　that　one
number　of　the　paper　was　missing。

He　bent　the　two　sides　of　the　volume　back；　looked　closely　between
the　leaves；　and　saw　immediately　that　the　missing　number　had　been
cut　out。

A　vague　sense　of　something　like　alarm　began　to　mingle　with　his
first　feeling　of　disappointment。　He　wrote　at　once　to　Mr。　Rambert；
mentioning　the　discovery　he　had　just　made；　and　sent　the　note　off
by　his　groom；　with　orders　to　the　man　to　wait　for　an　answer。

The　reply　with　which　the　servant　returned　was　almost　insolent　in
the　shortness　and　coolness　of　its　tone。　Mr。　Rambert　had　no　books
in　his　library　which　were　not　in　perfect　condition。　The　volume　of
the　_Times_　had　left　his　house　perfect；　and　whatever　blame　might
attach　to　the　mutilation　of　it　rested　therefore　on　other
shoulders　than　those　of　the　owner。

Like　many　other　weak　men；　Mr。　Carling　was　secretly　touchy　on　the
subject　of　his　dignity。　After　reading　the　note　and　questioning
his　servants；　who　were　certain　that　the　volume　had　not　been
touched　till　he　had　opened　it；　he　resolved　that　the　missing
number　of　the　_Times_　should　be　procured　at　any　expense　and
inserted　in　its　place；　that　the　volume　should　be　sent　back
instantly　without　a　word　of　comment；　and　that　no　more　books　from
Mr。　Rambert's　library　should　enter　his　house。

He　walked　up　and　down　the　study　considering　what　first　step　he
should　take　to　effect　the　purpose　in　view。　Under　the　quickening
influence　of　his　irritation；　an　idea　occurred　to　him；　which；　if
it　had　only　entered　his　mind　the　day　before；　might　probably　have
proved　the　means　of　saving　him　from　placing　himself　under　an
obligation　to　Mr。　Rambert。　He　resolved　to　write　immediately　to
his　bookseller　and　publisher　in　London　（who　knew　him　well　as　an
old　and　excellent　customer）；　mentioning　the　date　of　the　back
number　of　the　_Times_　that　was　required；　and　authorizing　the
publisher　to　offer　any　reward　he　judged　necessary　to　any　person
who　might　have　the　means　of　procuring　it　at　the　office　of　the
paper　or　elsewhere。　This　letter　he　wrote　and　dispatched　in　good
time　for　the　London　post；　and　then　went　upstairs　to　see　his　wife
and　to　tell　her　what　had　happened。　Her　room　was　still　darkened
and　she　was　still　on　the　sofa。　On　the　subject　of　the　missing
number　she　said　nothing；　but　of　Mr。　Rambert　and　his　note　she
spoke　with　the　most　sovereign　contempt。　Of　course　the　pompous　old
fool　was　mistaken；　and　the　proper　thing　to　do　was　to　send　back
the　volume　instantly　and　take　no　more　notice　of　him。

〃It　shall　be　sent　back；〃　said　Mr。　Carling；　〃but　not　till　the
missing　number　is　replaced。〃　And　he　then　told　her　what　he　had
done。

The　effect　of　that　simple　piece　of　information　on　Mrs。　Carling
was　so　extraordinary　and　so　unaccountable　that　her　husband　fairly
stood　aghast。　For　the　first　time　since　their　marriage　he　saw　her
temper　suddenly　in　a　flame。　She　started　up　from　the　sofa　and
walked　about　the　room　as　if　she　had　lost　her　senses；　upbraiding
him　for　making　the　weakest　of　concessions　to　Mr。　Rambert's
insolent　assumption　that　the　rector　was　to　blame。　If　she　could
only　have　laid　hands　on　that　letter；　she　would　have　consulted　her
husband's　dignity　and　independence　by　putting　it　in　the　fire！　She
hoped　and　prayed　the　number　of　the　paper　might　not　be　found！　In
fact；　it　was　certain　that　the　number；　after　all　these　years；
could　not　possibly　be　hunted　up。　The　idea　of　his　acknowledging
himself　to　be　in　the　wrong　in　that　way；　when　he　knew　himself　to
be　in　the　right！　It　was　almost　ridiculousno；　it　was　_quite_
ridiculous！　And　she　threw　herself　back　on　the　sofa；　and　suddenly
burst　out　laughing。

At　the　first　word　of　remonstrance　which　fell　from　her　husband's
lips　her　mood　changed　again　in　an　instant。　She　sprang　up　once
more；　kissed　him　passionately；　with　the　tears　streaming　from　her
eyes；　and　implored　him　to　leave　her　alone　to　recover　herself。　He
quitted　the　room　so　seriously　alarmed　about　her　that　he　resolved
to　go　to　the　doctor　privately　and　question　him　on　the　spot。　There
was　an　unspeakable　dread　in　his　mind　that　the　ner　vous　attack
from　which　she　had　been　pronounced　to　be　suffering　might　be　a
mere　phrase　intended　to　prepare　him　for　the　future　disclosure　of
something　infinitely　and　indescribably　worse。

The　doctor；　on　hearing　Mr。　Carling's　report；　exhibited　no
surprise　and　held　to　his　opinion。　Her　nervous　system　was　out　of
order；　and　her　husband　had　been　needlessly　frightened　by　a
hysterical　paroxysm。　If　she　did　not　get　better　in　a　week；　change
of　scene　might　then　be　tried。　In　the　meantime；　there　was　not　the
least　cause　for　alarm。

On　the　next　day　she　was　quieter；　but　she　hardly　spoke　at　all。　At
night　she　slept　well；　and　Mr。　Carling's　faith　in　the　medical　man
revived　again。

The　morning　after　was　the　morning　which　would　bring　the　answer
from　the　publisher　in　London。　The　rector's　study　was　on　the
ground　floor；　and　when　he　heard　the　postman's　knock；　being
especially　anxious　that　morning　about　his　correspondence；　he　went
out　into　the　hall　to　receive　his　letters　the　moment　they　were　put
on　the　table。

It　was　not　the　footman　who　had　answered　the　door；　as　usual；　but
Mrs。　Carling's　maid。　She　had　taken　the　letters　from　the　postman；
and　she　was　going　away　with　them　upstairs。

He　stopped　her；　and　asked　her　why　she　did　not　put　the　letters　on
the　hall　table　as　usual。　The　maid；　looking　very　much　confused；
said　that　her　mistress　had　desired　that　whatever　the　postman　had
brought　that　morning　should　be　carried　up　to　her　room。　He　took
the　letters　abruptly　from　the　girl；　without　asking　any　more
questions；　and　went　back　into　his　study。

Up　to　this　time　no　shadow　of　a　suspicion　had　fallen　on　his　mind。
Hitherto　there　had　been　a　simple　obvious　explanation　for　every
unusual　event　that　had　occurred　during　the　last　three　or　four
days；　but　this　last　circumstance　in　connection　with　the　letters
was　not　to　be　accounted　for。　Nevertheless；　even　now；　it　was　not
distrust　of　his　wife　that　was　busy　at　his　mindhe　was　too　fond
of　her　and　too　proud　of　her　to　feel　itthe　sensation　was　more
like　uneasy　surprise。　He　longed　to　go　and　question　her；　and　get　a
satisfactory　answer；　and　have　done　with　it。　But　there　was　a　voice
speaking　within　him　that　had　never　made　itself　heard　beforea
voice　with　a　persistent　warning　in　it；　that　said；　Wait；　and　look
at　your　letters　first。

He　spread　them　out　on　the　table　with　hands　that　trembled　he　knew
not　why。　Among　them　was　the　back　number　of　the　_Times_　for　which
he　had　written　to　London；　with　a　letter　from　the　publisher
explaining　the　means　by　which　the　copy　had　been　procured。

He　opened　the　newspaper　with　a　vague　feeling　of　alarm　at　finding
that　those　letters　to　the　editor　which　he　had　been　so　eager　to
read；　and　that　perfecting　of　the　mutilated　volume　which　he　had
been　so　anxious　to　accomplish；　had　become　objects　of　secondary
importance　in　his　mind。　An　inexplicable　curiosity　about　the
general　contents　of　the　paper　was　now　the　one　moving　influence
which　asserted　itself　within　him；　he　spread　open　the　broad　sheet
on　the　table。

The　first　page　on　which　his　eye　fell　was　the　page　on　the
right…hand　side。　It　contained　those　very　lettersthree　in
numberwhich　he　had　once　been　so　anxious　to　see。　He　tried　to
read　them；　but　no　effort　could　fix　his　wandering　attention。　He
looked　aside　to　the　opposite　page；　on　the　left　hand。　It　was　the
page　that　contained　the　leading　articles。

They　were　three　in　number。　The　first　was　on　foreign　politics；　the
second　was　a　sarcastic　commentary　on　a　recent　division　in　the
House　of　Lords；　the　third　was　one　of　those　articles　on　social
subjects　which　have　greatly　and　honorably　helped　to　raise　the
reputation　of　the　_Times_　above　all　contest　and　all　rivalry。

The　lines　of　this　third　article　which　first　caught　his　eye
comprised　the　opening　sentence　of　the　second　paragraph；　and
contained　these　words：

It　appears；　from　the　narrative　which　will　be　found　in　another
part　of　our　columns；　that　this　unfortunate　woman　married；　in　the
spring　of　the　year　18；　one　Mr。　Fergus　Duncan；　of　Glendarn；　in
the　Highlands　of　Scotland。　。　。


The　letters　swam　and　mingled　together　under　his　eyes　before　he
could　go　on　to　the　next　sentence。　His　wife　exhibited　as　an　object
for　public　compassi