classic mystery and detective stories-第65章

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white…faced　man　with　pure　eyes。　　To　me？no；　no；　not　to　me；　to　a

girl　it　wasan　ignorant；　innocent　girl；　and　she　accepted　them　as

an　eternal；　unqualified　law。　　Let　her　bear　but　half　that　I　have

borne；　let　her　endure　but　one…tenth　of　what　I　have　endured；　and

then　if　she　dare　let　her　speak　in　judgment　against　me。



Softly　now；　I　must　draw　the　heavy　coverings　away；　and　bare　his

breast　to　the　stroke；the　stroke　that　shall　free　me。　　I　know　well

where　to　plant　it；　I　have　learned　that　from　the　old　lady's　Italian。

Did　he　guess　why　I　questioned　him　so　closely　of　the　surest；

straightest　road　to　a　man's　heart？　　No　matter；　he　cannot　hinder　me

now。　　Gently！　　Ah！　I　have　disturbed　him。　　He　moves；　mutters　in　his

sleep；　throws　out　his　arm。　　Down；　down；　crouching　behind　the

curtain。　　Heavens！　if　he　wakes　and　sees　me；　he　will　kill　me。　　No！

alas！　if　only　he　would。　　I　would　kiss　the　hand　that　he　struck　me

with；　but　he　is　too　cruel　for　that。　　He　will　imagine　some　new　and

more　hellish　torture　to　punish　me　with。　　But　the　knife！　　I　have　got

that；　he　shall　never　touch　me　living　again。　。　。　。　　He　is　quieter

now。　　I　hear　his　breath；　hoarse　and　heavy　as　a　wild　beast's

panting。　　He　draws　it　more　evenly；　more　deeply。　　The　danger　is

past。　　Thank　God！



God！　　What　have　I　to　do　with　Him？　　A　God　of　Judgment。　　Ha；　ha！

Hell　cannot　frighten　me；　it　will　not　be　worse　than　earth。　　Only　he

will　be　there　too。　　Not　with　him；　not　with　him；send　me　to　the

lowest　circle　of　torment；　but　not　with　him。　　There；　his　breast　is

bare　now。　　Is　the　knife　sharp？　　Yes；　and　the　blade　is　strong

enough。　　Now　let　me　strikemyself　afterwards　if　need　be；　but　him

first。　　Is　it　the　devil　that　prompts　me？　　Then　the　devil　is　my

friend；　and　the　friend　of　the　world。　　No。　　God　is　a　God　of　love。

He　cannot　wish　such　a　man　to　live。　　He　made　him；　but　the　devil

spoilt　him；　and　let　the　devil　have　his　handiwork　back　again。　　It

has　served　him　long　enough　here；　and　its　last　service　shall　be　to

make　me　a　murderess。



How　the　moonlight　gleams　from　the　blade　as　my　arm　swings　up　and

back：　with　how　close　a　grasp　the　rough　hilt　draws　my　fingers　round

it。　　Now。



A　murderess？



Wait　a　moment。　　A　moment　may　make　me　free；　a　moment　may　make　me

that！



Wait。



Hand　and　dagger　droop　again。　　His　life　has　dragged　its　slime　over

my　soul；　shall　his　death　poison　it　with　a　fouler　corruption　still？



〃My　own　soul's　warden。〃



What　was　that？　　Dream　memories　again。



〃Resist；　strive；　endure。〃



Easy　words。　　What　do　they　mean　for　me？　　To　creep　back　now　to　bed　by

his　side；　and　to　begin　living　again　to…morrow　the　life　which　I　have

lived　to…day？　　No；　no；　I　cannot　do　it。　　Heaven　cannot　ask　it　of　me。

And　there　is　no　other　way。　　That　or　this；　this　or　that。　　Which

shall　it　be？　　Ah！　I　have　striven；　God　knows。　　I　have　endured　so

long　that　I　hoped　even　to　do　so　to　the　end。　　But　to…day！　　Oh！　the

torment　and　the　outrage：　body　and　soul　still　bear　the　stain　of　it。

I　thought　that　my　heart　and　my　pride　were　dead　together；　but　he　has

stung　them　again　into　aching；　shameful　life。　　Yesterday　I　might

have　spared　him；　to　save　my　own　cold　soul　from　sin；　but　now　it　is

cold　no　longer。　　It　burns；　it　burns　and　the　fire　must　be　slaked。



Ay；　I　will　kill　him；　and　have　done　with　it。　　Why　should　I　pause　any

longer？　　The　knife　drags　my　hand　back　for　the　stroke。　　Only　the

dream　surrounds　me；　the　pure　man's　face　is　there；　white；

beseeching；　and　God's　voice　rings　in　my　heart



〃To　him　that　overcometh。〃



But　I　cannot　overcome。　　Evil　has　governed　my　life；　and　evil　is

stronger　than　I　am。　　What　shall　I　do？　what　shall　I　do？　　God；　if

Thou　art　stronger　than　evil；　fight　for　me。



〃The　victory　of　the　Cross　is　ours。〃



Yes；　I　know　it。　　It　is　true；　it　is　true。　　But　the　knife？　　I　cannot

loose　the　knife　if　I　would。　　How　to　wrench　it　from　my　own　hold？

Thou　God　of　Victory　be　with　me！　　Christ　help　me！



I　seize　the　blade　with　my　left　hand；　the　two…edged　steel　slides

through　my　grasp；　a　sharp　pain　in　fingers　and　palm；　and　then

nothing。　。　。　。



　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。　　　　　　　　。





VI





When　I　again　became　conscious；　I　found　myself　half　kneeling；　half

lying　across　the　bed；　my　arms　stretched　out　in　front　of　me；　my　face

buried　in　the　clothes。　　Body　and　mind　were　alike　numbed。　　A

smarting　pain　in　my　left　hand；　a　dreadful　terror　in　my　heart；　were

at　first　the　only　sensations　of　which　I　was　aware。　　Slowly；　very

slowly；　sense　and　memory　returned　to　me；　and　with　them　a　more　vivid

intensity　of　mental　anguish；　as　detail　by　detail　I　recalled　the

weird　horror　of　the　night。　　Had　it　really　happened；was　the　thing

still　there；or　was　it　all　a　ghastly　nightmare？　　It　was　some

minutes　before　I　dared　either　to　move　or　look　up；　and　then

fearfully　I　raised　my　head。　　Before　me　stretched　the　smooth　white

coverlet；　faintly　bright　with　yellow　sunshine。　　Weak　and　giddy；　I

struggled　to　my　feet；　and；　steadying　myself　against　the　foot　of　the

bed；　with　clenched　teeth　and　bursting　heart；　forced　my　gaze　round

to　the　other　end。　　The　pillow　lay　there；　bare　and　unmarked　save　for

what　might　well　have　been　the　pressure　of　my　own　head。　　My　breath

came　more　freely；　and　I　turned　to　the　window。　　The　sun　had　just

risen；　the　golden　tree…tops　were　touched　with　light；　faint　threads

of　mist　hung　here　and　there　across　the　sky；　and　the　twittering　of

birds　sounded　clearly　through　the　crisp　autumn　air。



It　was　nothing　but　a　bad　dream　then；　after　all；　this　horror　which

still　hung　round　me；　leaving　me　incapable　of　effort；　almost　of

thought。　　I　remembered　the　cabinet；　and　looked　swiftly　in　that

direction。　　There　it　stood；　closed　as　usual；　closed　as　it　had　been

the　evening　before；　as　it　had　been　for　the　last　three　hundred

years；　except　in　my　dreams。



Yes；　that　was　it；　nothing　but　a　dream；a　gruesome；　haunting　dream。

With　an　instinct　of　wiping　out　the　dreadful　memory；　I　raised　my

hand　wearily　to　my　forehead。　　As　I　did　so；　I　became　conscious　again

of　how　it　hurt　me。　　I　looked　at　it。　　It　was　covered　with　half…dried

blood；　and　two　straight　clean　cuts　appeared；　one　across　the　palm

and　one　across　the　inside　of　the　fingers　just　below　the　knuckles。

I　looked　again　towards　the　bed；　and；　in　the　place　where　my　hand　had

rested　during　my　faint；　a　small　patch　of　red　blood　was　to　be　seen。



Then　it　was　true！　　Then　it　had　all　happened！　　With　a　low　shuddering

sob　I　threw　myself　down　upon　the　couch　at　the　foot　of　the　bed；　and

lay　there　for　some　minutes；　my　limbs　trembling；　and　my　soul

shrinking　within　me。　　A　mist　of　evil；　fearful　and　loathsome；　had

descended　upon　my　girlhood's　life；　sullying　its　ignorant　innocence；

saddening　its　brightness；　as　I　felt；　for　ever。　　I　lay　there　till　my

teeth　began　to　chatter；　and　I　realized　that　I　was　bitterly　cold。

To　return　to　that　accursed　bed　was　impossible；　so　I　pulled　a　rug

which　hung　at　one　end　of　the　sofa　over　me；　and；　utterly　worn　out　in

mind　and　body；　fell　uneasily　asleep。



I　was　roused　by　the　entrance　of　my　maid。　　I　stopped　her

exclamations　and　questions　by　shortly　stating　that　I　had　had　a　bad

night；　had　been　unable　to　rest　in　bed；　and　had　had　an　accident　with

my　hand；without　further　specifying　of　what　description。



〃I　didn't　know　that　you　had　been　feeling　unwell　when　you　went　to

bed　last　night；　miss；〃　she　said。



〃When　I　went　to　bed　last　night？　　Unwell？　　What　do　you　mean？〃



〃Only　Mr。　Alan　has　just　asked　me　to　let　him　know　how　you　find

yourself　this　morning；〃　she　answered。



Then　he　expected　something；　dreaded　something。　　Ah！　why　had　he

yielded　and　allowed　me　to　sleep　here；　I　asked　myself　bitterly；　as

the　incidents　of　the　day　before　flashed　through　my　mind。



〃Tell　him；〃　I　said；　〃what　I　have　told　you；　and　say　that　I　wish　to

speak　to　him　directly　after　breakfast。〃　　I　could　not　confide　my

story　to　any　one　else；　but　speak　of　it　I　must　to　some　one　or　go

mad。



Every　moment　passed　in　that　place　was　an　added　misery。　　Much　to　my

maid's　surprise　I　said　that　I　would　dress　in　her　roomthe　little

one　which；　as　I　have　said；　was　close　to　my　own。　　I　felt　better

there；　but　my　utter　fatigue　and　my　wounded　hand　combined　to　make　my

toilet　slow；　and　I　found　that　most　of　the　party　had　finished

breakfast　when　I　reached　the　dining…room。　　I　was　glad　of　this；　for

even　as　it　was　I　found　it　difficult　enough　to　give　coherent　answers

to　the　questions　which　my　white　face　and　bandaged　hand　called

forth。　　Alan　helped　me　by　giving　a　resolute　turn　to　the

conversation。　　Once　only　our　eyes　met　across　the　table。　　He　looked

as　haggard　and　worn　as　I　did：　I　learned　afterwards　that　he　had

passed　most　of　that　fearful　night　pacing　the　passage　outside　my

door；　though　he　listened　in　vain　for　any　indication　of　what　was

going　on　within　the　room。



The　moment　I　had　finished　breakfast　he　was　by　my　side。　　〃You　wish

to　speak　to　me？　now？〃　he　asked　in　a　low　tone。



〃Yes；　now；〃　I　answered；　breathlessly；　and　without　raising　my　eyes

from　the　ground。



〃Where　shall　we　go？　　Outside？　　It　is　a　bright　day；　and　we　shall　be

freer　there　from　interruption。〃



I　assented；　and　then　looking　up　at　him　appealingly；　〃Will　you　fetch

my　things　for　me？　　I　CANNOT　go　up　to　that　room　again。〃



He　seemed　to　understand　me；　nodded；　and　was　gone。　　A　few　minutes

later　we　left　the　house；　and　made　our　way　in　silence　towards　a

grassy　spot　on　the　side　of　the　ravine　where　we　had　already　indulged

in　more　than　one　friendly　talk。



As　we　went；　the　Dead　Stone　came　for　a　moment　into　view。　　I　seized

Alan's　arm　in　an　almost　convulsive　grip。　　〃Tell　me；〃　I　whispered；

〃you　refused　to　tell　me　yesterday；　but　you　must　now；who　is　buried

beneath　that　rock？〃



There　was　now　neither　timidity　nor　embarrassment　in　my　tone。　　The

horrors　of　that　house　had　become　part　of　my　life　for　ever；　and

their　secrets　were　mine　by　right。　　Alan；　after　a　moment's　pause；　a

questioning　glance　at　my　face；　tacitly　accepted　the　position。



〃I　told　you　the　truth；〃　he　replied；　〃when　I　said　that　I　did　not

know；　but　I　can　tell　you　the　popular　tradition　on　the　subject；　if

you　like。　　They　say　that　Margaret　Mervyn；　the　woman　who　murdered

her　husband；　is　buried　there；　and　that　Dame　Alice　had　the　rock

placed　over　her　grave；whether　to　save　it　from　insult　or　to　mark

it　out　for　opprobrium；　I　never　heard。　　The　poor　people　about　here

do　not　care　to　go　near　the　place　after　dark；　and　among　the　older

ones　there　are　still　some；　I　believe；　who　spit　at　the　suicide's

grave　as　they　pass。〃



〃Poor　woman；　poor　woman！〃　I　exclaimed；　in　a　burst　of　uncontrollable

compassion。



〃Why　should　you　pity　her？〃　demanded　he　with　sudden　sternness；　〃she

WAS　a　suicide　and　a　murderess　too。　　It　would　be　better　for　the

public　conscience；　I　believe；　if　such　were　still　hung　in　chains；　or

buried　at　the　cross…roads　with　a　stake　through　their　bodies。〃



〃Hush；　Alan；　hush！〃　I　cried　hysterically；　as　I　clung　to　him；　〃don't

speak　harshly　of　her：　you　do　not　know；　you　ca