lazy tour of two idle apprentices-第8章

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perverse　desire　took　possession　of　him　to　do　the　very　thing　which

he　had　resolved　not　to　do；　up　to　this　time　…　to　look　at　the　dead

man。



He　stretched　out　his　hand　towards　the　curtains；　but　checked　himself

in　the　very　act　of　undrawing　them；　turned　his　back　sharply　on　the

bed；　and　walked　towards　the　chimney…piece；　to　see　what　things　were

placed　on　it；　and　to　try　if　he　could　keep　the　dead　man　out　of　his

mind　in　that　way。



There　was　a　pewter　inkstand　on　the　chimney…piece；　with　some

mildewed　remains　of　ink　in　the　bottle。　　There　were　two　coarse　china

ornaments　of　the　commonest　kind；　and　there　was　a　square　of　embossed

card；　dirty　and　fly…blown；　with　a　collection　of　wretched　riddles

printed　on　it；　in　all　sorts　of　zig…zag　directions；　and　in　variously

coloured　inks。　　He　took　the　card；　and　went　away；　to　read　it；　to　the

table　on　which　the　candle　was　placed；　sitting　down；　with　his　back

resolutely　turned　to　the　curtained　bed。



He　read　the　first　riddle；　the　second；　the　third；　all　in　one　corner

of　the　card　…　then　turned　it　round　impatiently　to　look　at　another。

Before　he　could　begin　reading　the　riddles　printed　here；　the　sound

of　the　church…clock　stopped　him。　　Eleven。　　He　had　got　through　an

hour　of　the　time；　in　the　room　with　the　dead　man。



Once　more　he　looked　at　the　card。　　It　was　not　easy　to　make　out　the

letters　printed　on　it；　in　consequence　of　the　dimness　of　the　light

which　the　landlord　had　left　him　…　a　common　tallow　candle；　furnished

with　a　pair　of　heavy　old…fashioned　steel　snuffers。　　Up　to　this

time；　his　mind　had　been　too　much　occupied　to　think　of　the　light。

He　had　left　the　wick　of　the　candle　unsnuffed；　till　it　had　risen

higher　than　the　flame；　and　had　burnt　into　an　odd　pent…house　shape

at　the　top；　from　which　morsels　of　the　charred　cotton　fell　off；　from

time　to　time；　in　little　flakes。　　He　took　up　the　snuffers　now；　and

trimmed　the　wick。　　The　light　brightened　directly；　and　the　room

became　less　dismal。



Again　he　turned　to　the　riddles；　reading　them　doggedly　and

resolutely；　now　in　one　corner　of　the　card；　now　in　another。　　All　his

efforts；　however；　could　not　fix　his　attention　on　them。　　He　pursued

his　occupation　mechanically；　deriving　no　sort　of　impression　from

what　he　was　reading。　　It　was　as　if　a　shadow　from　the　curtained　bed

had　got　between　his　mind　and　the　gaily　printed　letters　…　a　shadow

that　nothing　could　dispel。　　At　last；　he　gave　up　the　struggle；　and

threw　the　card　from　him　impatiently；　and　took　to　walking　softly　up

and　down　the　room　again。



The　dead　man；　the　dead　man；　the　HIDDEN　dead　man　on　the　bed！　　There

was　the　one　persistent　idea　still　haunting　him。　　Hidden？　　Was　it

only　the　body　being　there；　or　was　it　the　body　being　there；

concealed；　that　was　preying　on　his　mind？　　He　stopped　at　the　window；

with　that　doubt　in　him；　once　more　listening　to　the　pattering　rain；

once　more　looking　out　into　the　black　darkness。



Still　the　dead　man！　　The　darkness　forced　his　mind　back　upon　itself；

and　set　his　memory　at　work；　reviving；　with　a　painfully…vivid

distinctness　the　momentary　impression　it　had　received　from　the

first　sight　of　the　corpse。　　Before　long　the　face　seemed　to　be

hovering　out　in　the　middle　of　the　darkness；　confronting　him　through

the　window；　with　the　paleness　whiter；　with　the　dreadful　dull　line

of　light　between　the　imperfectly…closed　eyelids　broader　than　he　had

seen　it　…　with　the　parted　lips　slowly　dropping　farther　and　farther

away　from　each　other　…　with　the　features　growing　larger　and　moving

closer；　till　they　seemed　to　fill　the　window　and　to　silence　the

rain；　and　to　shut　out　the　night。



The　sound　of　a　voice；　shouting　below…stairs；　woke　him　suddenly　from

the　dream　of　his　own　distempered　fancy。　　He　recognised　it　as　the

voice　of　the　landlord。　　'Shut　up　at　twelve；　Ben；'　he　heard　it　say。

'I'm　off　to　bed。'



He　wiped　away　the　damp　that　had　gathered　on　his　forehead；　reasoned

with　himself　for　a　little　while；　and　resolved　to　shake　his　mind

free　of　the　ghastly　counterfeit　which　still　clung　to　it；　by　forcing

himself　to　confront；　if　it　was　only　for　a　moment；　the　solemn

reality。　　Without　allowing　himself　an　instant　to　hesitate；　he

parted　the　curtains　at　the　foot　of　the　bed；　and　looked　through。



There　was　a　sad；　peaceful；　white　face；　with　the　awful　mystery　of

stillness　on　it；　laid　back　upon　the　pillow。　　No　stir；　no　change

there！　　He　only　looked　at　it　for　a　moment　before　he　closed　the

curtains　again　…　but　that　moment　steadied　him；　calmed　him；　restored

him　…　mind　and　body　…　to　himself。



He　returned　to　his　old　occupation　of　walking　up　and　down　the　room；

persevering　in　it；　this　time；　till　the　clock　struck　again。　　Twelve。



As　the　sound　of　the　clock…bell　died　away；　it　was　succeeded　by　the

confused　noise；　down…stairs；　of　the　drinkers　in　the　tap…room

leaving　the　house。　　The　next　sound；　after　an　interval　of　silence；

was　caused　by　the　barring　of　the　door；　and　the　closing　of　the

shutters；　at　the　back　of　the　Inn。　　Then　the　silence　followed　again；

and　was　disturbed　no　more。



He　was　alone　now　…　absolutely；　utterly；　alone　with　the　dead　man；

till　the　next　morning。



The　wick　of　the　candle　wanted　trimming　again。　　He　took　up　the

snuffers　…　but　paused　suddenly　on　the　very　point　of　using　them；　and

looked　attentively　at　the　candle　…　then　back；　over　his　shoulder；　at

the　curtained　bed　…　then　again　at　the　candle。　　It　had　been　lighted；

for　the　first　time；　to　show　him　the　way　up…stairs；　and　three　parts

of　it；　at　least；　were　already　consumed。　　In　another　hour　it　would

be　burnt　out。　　In　another　hour　…　unless　he　called　at　once　to　the

man　who　had　shut　up　the　Inn；　for　a　fresh　candle　…　he　would　be　left

in　the　dark。



Strongly　as　his　mind　had　been　affected　since　he　had　entered　his

room；　his　unreasonable　dread　of　encountering　ridicule；　and　of

exposing　his　courage　to　suspicion；　had　not　altogether　lost　its

influence　over　him；　even　yet。　　He　lingered　irresolutely　by　the

table；　waiting　till　he　could　prevail　on　himself　to　open　the　door；

and　call；　from　the　landing；　to　the　man　who　had　shut　up　the　Inn。　　In

his　present　hesitating　frame　of　mind；　it　was　a　kind　of　relief　to

gain　a　few　moments　only　by　engaging　in　the　trifling　occupation　of

snuffing　the　candle。　　His　hand　trembled　a　little；　and　the　snuffers

were　heavy　and　awkward　to　use。　　When　he　closed　them　on　the　wick；　he

closed　them　a　hair's　breadth　too　low。　　In　an　instant　the　candle　was

out；　and　the　room　was　plunged　in　pitch　darkness。



The　one　impression　which　the　absence　of　light　immediately　produced

on　his　mind；　was　distrust　of　the　curtained　bed　…　distrust　which

shaped　itself　into　no　distinct　idea；　but　which　was　powerful　enough

in　its　very　vagueness；　to　bind　him　down　to　his　chair；　to　make　his

heart　beat　fast；　and　to　set　him　listening　intently。　　No　sound

stirred　in　the　room　but　the　familiar　sound　of　the　rain　against　the

window；　louder　and　sharper　now　than　he　had　heard　it　yet。



Still　the　vague　distrust；　the　inexpressible　dread　possessed　him；

and　kept　him　to　his　chair。　　He　had　put　his　carpet…bag　on　the　table；

when　he　first　entered　the　room；　and　he　now　took　the　key　from　his

pocket；　reached　out　his　hand　softly；　opened　the　bag；　and　groped　in

it　for　his　travelling　writing…case；　in　which　he　knew　that　there　was

a　small　store　of　matches。　　When　he　had　got　one　of　the　matches；　he

waited　before　he　struck　it　on　the　coarse　wooden　table；　and　listened

intently　again；　without　knowing　why。　　Still　there　was　no　sound　in

the　room　but　the　steady；　ceaseless；　rattling　sound　of　the　rain。



He　lighted　the　candle　again；　without　another　moment　of　delay　and；

on　the　instant　of　its　burning　up；　the　first　object　in　the　room　that

his　eyes　sought　for　was　the　curtained　bed。



Just　before　the　light　had　been　put　out；　he　had　looked　in　that

direction；　and　had　seen　no　change；　no　disarrangement　of　any　sort；

in　the　folds　of　the　closely…drawn　curtains。



When　he　looked　at　the　bed；　now；　he　saw；　hanging　over　the　side　of

it；　a　long　white　hand。



It　lay　perfectly　motionless；　midway　on　the　side　of　the　bed；　where

the　curtain　at　the　head　and　the　curtain　at　the　foot　met。　　Nothing

more　was　visible。　　The　clinging　curtains　hid　everything　but　the

long　white　hand。



He　stood　looking　at　it　unable　to　stir；　unable　to　call　out；　feeling

nothing；　knowing　nothing；　every　faculty　he　possessed　gathered　up

and　lost　in　the　one　seeing　faculty。　　How　long　that　first　panic　held

him　he　never　could　tell　afterwards。　　It　might　have　been　only　for　a

moment；　it　might　have　been　for　many　minutes　together。　　How　he　got

to　the　bed　…　whether　he　ran　to　it　headlong；　or　whether　he

approached　it　slowly　…　how　he　wrought　himself　up　to　unclose　the

curtains　and　look　in；　he　never　has　remembered；　and　never　will

remember　to　his　dying　day。　　It　is　enough　that　he　did　go　to　the　bed；

and　that　he　did　look　inside　the　curtains。



The　man　had　moved。　　One　of　his　arms　was　outside　the　clothes；　his

face　was　turned　a　little　on　the　pillow；　his　eyelids　were　wide　open。

Changed　as　to　position；　and　as　to　one　of　the　features；　the　face

was；　otherwise；　fearfully　and　wonderfully　unaltered。　　The　dead

paleness　and　the　dead　quiet　were　on　it　still



One　glance　showed　Arthur　this　…　one　glance；　before　he　flew

breathlessly　to　the　door；　and　alarmed　the　house。



The　man　whom　the　landlord　called　'Ben；'　was　the　first　to　appear　on

the　stairs。　　In　three　words；　Arthur　told　him　what　had　happened；　and

sent　him　for　the　nearest　doctor。



I；　who　tell　you　this　story；　was　then　staying　with　a　medical　friend

of　mine；　in　practice　at　Doncaster；　taking　care　of　his　patients　for

him；　during　his　absence　in　London；　and　I；　for　the　time　being；　was

the　nearest　doctor。　　They　had　sent　for　me　from　the　Inn；　when　the

stranger　was　taken　ill　in　the　afternoon；　but　I　was　not　at　home；　and

medical　assistance　was　sought　for　elsewhere。　　When　the　man　from　The

Two　Robins　rang　the　night…bell；　I　was　just　thinking　of　going　to

bed。　　Naturally　enough；　I　did　not　believe　a　word　of　his　story　about

'a　dead　man　who　had　come　to　life　again。'　　However；　I　put　on　my　hat；

armed　myself　with　one　or　two　bottles　of　restorative　medicine；　and

ran　to　the　Inn；　expecting　to　find　nothing　more　remarkable；　when　I

got　there；　than　a　patient　in　a　fit。



My　surprise　at　finding　that　the　man　had　spoken　the　literal　truth

was　almost；　if　not　quite；　equalled　by　my　astonishment　at　finding

myself　face　to　face　with　Arthur　Holliday　as　soon　as　I　entered　the

bedroom。　　It　was　no　time　then　for　giving　or　seeking　explanations。

We　just　shook　hands　amazedly；　and　then　I　ordered　everybody　but

Arthur　out　of　the　room；　and　hurried　to　the　man　on　the　bed。



The　kitchen　fire　had　not　been　long　out。　　There　was　plenty　of　hot

water　in　the　boiler；　and　plenty　of　flannel　to　be　had。　　With　these；

with　my　medicines；　and　with　such　help　as　Arthur　could　render　under

my　direction；　I　dragged　the　man；　literally；　out　of　the　jaws　of

death。　　In　less　than　an　hour　from　the　time　when　I　had　been　called

in；　he　was　alive　and　talking　in　th