armadale-第146章

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terrified　man；　there　was　nothing　to　tell　her　that　the　terror　was
caused　by　his　consciousness　of　deceiving　her；　for　the　first　time
in　his　life；　to　her　face。　If　she　had　threatened　him　less　openly
when　she　placed　him　on　the　watch；　if　she　had　spoken　less
unreservedly　of　the　interview　which　was　to　reward　him　in　the
morning；　he　might　have　owned　the　truth。　As　it　was；　his　strongest
fears　and　his　dearest　hopes　were　alike　interested　in　telling　her
the　fatal　lie　that　he　had　now　toldthe　fatal　lie　which　he
reiterated　when　she　put　her　question　for　the　second　time。

She　looked　at　him；　deceived　by　the　last　man　on　earth　whom　she
would　have　suspected　of　deceptionthe　man　w　hom　she　had　deceived
herself。

〃You　seem　to　be　overexcited；〃　she　said　quietly。　〃The　night　has
been　too　much　for　you。　Go　upstairs；　and　rest。　You　will　find　the
door　of　one　of　the　rooms　left　open。　That　is　the　room　you　are　to
occupy。　Good…night。〃

She　put　the　candle　（which　she　had　left　burning　for　him）　on　the
table；　and　gave　him　her　hand。　He　held　her　back　by　it　desperately
as　she　turned　to　leave　him。　His　horror　of　what　might　happen　when
she　was　left　by　herself　forced　the　words　to　his　lips　which　he
would　have　feared　to　speak　to　her　at　any　other　time。

〃Don't；〃　he　pleaded；　in　a　whisper；　〃oh；　don't；　don't；　don't　go
downstairs　to…night！〃

She　released　her　hand；　and　signed　to　him　to　take　the　candle。　〃You
shall　see　me　to…morrow；〃　she　said。　〃Not　a　word　more　now！〃

Her　stronger　will　conquered　him　at　that　last　moment；　as　it　had
conquered　him　throughout。　He　took　the　candle　and　waited；
following　her　eagerly　with　his　eyes　as　she　descended　the　stairs。
The　cold　of　the　December　night　seemed　to　have　found　its　way　to
her　through　the　warmth　of　the　house。　She　had　put　on　a　long；　heavy
black　shawl；　and　had　fastened　it　close　over　her　breast。　The
plaited　coronet　in　which　she　wore　her　hair　seemed　to　have　weighed
too　heavily　on　her　head。　She　had　untwisted　it；　and　thrown　it　back
over　her　shoulders。　The　old　man　looked　at　her　flowing　hair；　as　it
lay　red　over　the　black　shawlat　her　supple；　long…fingered　hand；
as　it　slid　down　the　banistersat　the　smooth；　seductive　grace　of
every　movement　that　took　her　further　and　further　away　from　him。
〃The　night　will　go　quickly；〃　he　said　to　himself；　as　she　passed
from　his　view；　〃I　shall　dream　of　her　till　the　morning　comes！〃


She　secured　the　staircase　door；　after　she　had　passed　through
itlistened；　and　satisfied　herself　that　nothing　was
stirringthen　went　on　slowly　along　the　corridor　to　the　window。
Leaning　on　the　window…sill；　she　looked　out　at　the　night。　The
clouds　were　over　the　moon　at　that　moment；　nothing　was　to　be　seen
through　the　darkness　but　the　scattered　gas…lights　in　the　suburb。
Turning　from　the　window；　she　looked　at　the　clock。　It　was　twenty
minutes　past　one。

For　the　last　time；　the　resolution　that　had　come　to　her　in　the
earlier　night；　with　the　knowledge　that　her　husband　was　in　the
house；　forced　itself　uppermost　in　her　mind。　For　the　last　time；
the　voice　within　her　said；　〃Think　if　there　is　no　other　way！〃

She　pondered　over　it　till　the　minute…hand　of　the　clock　pointed　to
the　half…hour。　〃No！〃　she　said；　still　thinking　of　her　husband。
〃The　one　chance　left　is　to　go　through　with　it　to　the　end。　He　will
leave　the　thing　undone　which　he　has　come　here　to　do；　he　will
leave　the　words　unspoken　which　he　has　come　here　to　saywhen　he
knows　that　the　act　may　make　me　a　public　scandal；　and　that　the
words　may　send　me　to　the　scaffold！〃　Her　color　rose；　and　she
smiled　with　a　terrible　irony　as　she　looked　for　the　first　time　at
the　door　of　the　Room。　〃I　shall　be　your　widow；〃　she　said；　〃in　half
an　hour！〃

She　opened　the　case　of　the　apparatus　and　took　the　Purple　Flask　in
her　hand。　After　marking　the　time　by　a　glance　at　the　clock；　she
dropped　into　the　glass　funnel　the　first　of　the　six　separate
Pourings　that　were　measured　for　her　by　the　paper　slips。

When　she　had　put　the　Flask　back；　she　listened　at　the　mouth　of　the
funnel。　Not　a　sound　reached　her　ear：　the　deadly　process　did　its
work　in　the　silence　of　death　itself。　When　she　rose　and　looked　up；
the　moon　was　shining　in　at　the　window；　and　the　moaning　wind　was
quiet。

Oh；　the　time！　the　time！　If　it　could　only　have　been　begun　and
ended　with　the　first　Pouring！

She　went　downstairs　into　the　hall；　she　walked　to　and　fro；　and
listened　at　the　open　door　that　led　to　the　kitchen　stairs。　She
came　up　again；　she　went　down　again。　The　first　of　the　intervals　of
five　minutes　was　endless。　The　time　stood　still。　The　suspense　was
maddening。

The　interval　passed。　As　she　took　the　Flask　for　the　second　time；
and　dropped　in　the　second　Pouring；　the　clouds　floated　over　the
moon；　and　the　night　view　through　the　window　slowly　darkened。

The　restlessness　that　had　driven　her　up　and　down　the　stairs；　and
backward　and　forward　in　the　hall；　left　her　as　suddenly　as　it　had
come。　She　waited　through　the　second　interval；　leaning　on　the
window…sill；　and　staring；　without　conscious　thought　of　any　kind；
into　the　black　night。　The　howling　of　a　belated　dog　was　borne
toward　her　on　the　wind；　at　intervals；　from　some　distant　part　of
the　suburb。　She　found　herself　following　the　faint　sound　as　it
died　away　into　silence　with　a　dull　attention；　and　listening　for
its　coming　again　with　an　expectation　that　was　duller　still。　Her
arms　lay　like　lead　on　the　window…sill；　her　forehead　rested
against　the　glass　without　feeling　the　cold。　It　was　not　till　the
moon　struggled　out　again　that　she　was　startled　into　sudden
self…remembrance。　She　turned　quickly；　and　looked　at　the　clock；
seven　minutes　had　passed　since　the　second　Pouring。

As　she　snatched　up　the　Flask；　and　fed　the　funnel　for　the　third
time；　the　full　consciousness　of　her　position　came　back　to　her。
The　fever…heat　throbbed　again　in　her　blood；　and　flushed　fiercely
in　her　cheeks。　Swift；　smooth；　and　noiseless；　she　paced　from　end
to　end　of　the　corridor；　with　her　arms　folded　in　her　shawl　and　her
eye　moment　after　moment　on　the　clock。

Three　out　of　the　next　five　minutes　passed；　and　again　the　suspense
began　to　madden　her。　The　space　in　the　corridor　grew　too　confined
for　the　illimitable　restlessness　that　possessed　her　limbs。　She
went　down　into　the　hall　again；　and　circled　round　and　round　it
like　a　wild　creature　in　a　cage。　At　the　third　turn；　she　felt
something　moving　softly　against　her　dress。　The　house…cat　had　come
up　through　the　open　kitchen　doora　large；　tawny；　companionable
cat　that　purred　in　high　good　temper；　and　followed　her　for
company。　She　took　the　animal　up　in　her　armsit　rubbed　its　sleek
head　luxuriously　against　her　chin　as　she　bent　her　face　over　it。
〃Armadale　hates　cats；〃　she　whispered　in　the　creature's　ear。　〃Come
up　and　see　Armadale　killed！〃　The　next　moment　her　own　frightful
fancy　horrified　her。　She　dropped　the　cat　with　a　shudder；　she
drove　it　below　again　with　threatening　hands。　For　a　moment　after；
she　stood　still；　then　in　headlong　haste　suddenly　mounted　the
stairs。　Her　husband　had　forced　his　way　back　again　into　her
thoughts；　her　husband　threatened　her　with　a　danger　which　had
never　entered　her　mind　till　now。　What　if　he　were　not　asleep？　What
if　he　came　out　upon　her；　and　found　her　with　the　Purple　Flask　in
her　hand？

She　stole　to　the　door　of　Number　Three　and　listened。　The　slow；
regular　breathing　of　a　sleeping　man　was　just　audible。　After
waiting　a　moment　to　let　the　feeling　of　relief　quiet　her；　she　took
a　step　toward　Number　Four；　and　checked　herself。　It　was　needless
to　listen　at　_that_　door。　The　doctor　had　told　her　that　Sleep　came
first；　as　certainly　as　Death　afterward；　in　the　poisoned　air。　She
looked　aside　at　the　clock。　The　time　had　come　for　the　fourth
Pouring。

Her　hand　began　to　tremble　violently　as　she　fed　the　funnel　for　the
fourth　time。　The　fear　of　her　husband　was　back　again　in　her　heart。
What　if　some　noise　disturbed　him　before　the　sixth　Pouring？　What
if　he　woke　on　a　sudden　（as　she　had　often　seen　him　wake）　without
any　noise　at　all？　She　looked　up　and　down　the　corridor。　The　end
room；　in　which　Mr。　Bashwood　had　been　concealed；　offered　itself　to
her　as　a　place　of　refuge。　〃I　might　go　in　there！〃　she　thought。
〃Has　he　left　the　key？〃　She　opened　the　door　to　look；　and　saw　the
handkerchief　thrown　down　on　the　floor。　Was　it　Mr。　Bashwood's
handkerchief；　left　there　by　accident？　She　examined　it　at　the
corners。　In　the　second　corner　she　found　her　husband's　name！

Her　first　impulse　hurried　her　to　the　staircase　door；　to　rouse　the
steward　and　insist　on　an　explanation。　The　next　moment　she
remembered　the　Purple　Flask；　and　the　danger　of　leaving　the
corridor。　She　turned；　and　looked　at　the　door　of　Number　Three。　Her
husband；　on　the　evidence　of　the　handkerchief；　had　unquestionably
been　out　of　his　roomand　Mr。　Bashwood　had　not　told　her。　Was　he
in　his　room　now？　In　the　violence　of　her　agitation；　as　the
question　passed　through　her　mind；　she　forgot　the　discovery　which
she　had　herself　made　not　a　minute　before。　Again　she　listened　at
the　door；　again　she　heard　the　slow；
　regular　breathing　of　the　sleeping　man。　The　first　time　the
evidence　of　her　ears　had　been　enough　to　quiet　her；　_this_　time；
in　the　tenfold　aggravation　of　her　suspicion　and　her　alarm；　she
was　determined　to　have　the　evidence　of　her　eyes　as　well。　〃All　the
doors　open　softly　in　this　house；〃　she　said　to　herself；　〃there's
no　fear　of　my　waking　him。〃　Noiselessly；　by　an　inch　at　a　time；　she
opened　the　unlocked　door；　and　looked　in　the　moment　the　aperture
was　wide　enough。　In　the　little　light　she　had　let　into　the　room；
the　sleeper's　head　was　just　visible　on　the　pillow。　Was　it　quite
as　dark　against　the　white　pillow　as　her　husband's　head　looked
when　he　was　in　bed？　Was　the　breathing　as　light　as　her　husband's
breathing　when　he　was　asleep？

She　opened　the　door　more　widely；　and　looked　in　by　the　clearer
light。

There　lay　the　man　whose　life　she　had　attempted　for　the　third
time；　peacefully　sleeping　in　the　room　that　had　been　given　to　her
husband；　and　in　the　air　that　could　harm　nobody！

The　inevitable　conclusion　overwhelmed　her　on　the　instant。　With　a
frantic　upward　action　of　her　hands　she　staggered　back　into　the
passage。　The　door　of　Allan's　room　fell　to；　but　not　noisily　enough
to　wake　him。　She　turned　as　she　heard　it　close。　For　one　moment　she
stood　staring　at　it　like　a　woman　stupefied。　The　next；　her
instinct　rushed　into　action；　before　her　reason　recovered　itself。
In　two　steps　she　was　at　the　door　of　Number　Four。

The　door　was　locked。

She　felt　over　the　wall　with　both　hands；　wildly　and　clumsily；　for
the　button　which　she　had　seen　the　doctor　press　when　he　was
showing　the　room　to　the　visitors。　Twice　she　missed　it。　The　third
time　her　eyes　helped　her　hands；　she　found　the　button　and　pressed
on　it。　The　mortise　of　the　lock　inside　fell　back；　and　the　door
yielded　to　her。

Without　an　instant's　hesitation　she　entered　the　room。　Though　the
door　was　openthough　so　short　a　time　had　elapsed　since　the
fourth　Pouring　that　but　little　more　than　half　the　contemplated
volume　of　gas　had　been　produced　as　yetthe　poisoned　air　seized
her；　like　the　grasp　of　a　hand　at　her　throat；　like　the　twisting　of
a　wire　round　her　head。　She　found　him　on　the　floor　at　the　foot　of
the　bed：　his　head　and　one　arm　were　toward　the　door；　as　if　he　had
risen　under　the　first　feeling　of　drowsiness；　and　had　sunk　in　the
effort　to　leave　the　room。　With　the　d