the law and the lady-第37章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



〃To　no　living　creature；〃　I　replied〃as　yet。〃

〃This　very　strange！〃　he　said；　still　earnestly　reading　my　face。
〃What　interest　can　_you_　have　in　a　dead　woman　whom　you　never
knew？　Why　did　you　ask　me　that　question　just　now？　Have　you　any
motive　in　coming　here　to　see　me？〃

I　boldly　acknowledged　the　truth。　I　said；　〃I　have　a　motive。〃

〃Is　it　connected　with　Eustace　Macallan's　first　wife？〃

〃It　is。〃

〃With　anything　that　happened　in　her　lifetime？〃

〃No。〃

〃With　her　death？〃

〃Yes。〃

He　suddenly　clasped　his　hands　with　a　wild　gesture　of　despair；　and
then　pressed　them　both　on　his　head；　as　if　he　were　struck　by　some
sudden　pain。

〃I　can't　hear　it　to…night！〃　he　said。　〃I　would　give　worlds　to　hear
it；　but　I　daren't。　I　should　lose　all　hold　over　myself　in　the
state　I　am　in　now。　I　am　not　equal　to　raking　up　the　horror　and　the
mystery　of　the　past；　I　have　not　courage　enough　to　open　the　grave
of　the　martyred　dead。　Did　you　hear　me　when　you　came　here？　I　have
an　immense　imagination。　It　runs　riot　at　times。　It　makes　an　actor
of　me。　I　play　the　parts　of　all　the　heroes　that　ever　lived。　I　feel
their　characters。　I　merge　myself　in　their　individualities。　For
the　time　I　_am_　the　man　I　fancy　myself　to　be。　I　can't　help　it。　I
am　obliged　to　do　it。　If　I　restrained　my　imagination　when　the　fit
is　on　me；　I　should　go　mad。　I　let　myself　loose。　It　lasts　for
hours。　It　leaves　me　with　my　energies　worn　out；　with　my
sensibilities　frightfully　acute。　Rouse　any　melancholy　or　terrible
associations　in　me　at　such　times；　and　I　am　capable　of　hysterics；
I　am　capable　of　screaming。　You　heard　me　scream。　You　shall　_not_
see　me　in　hysterics。　No；　Mrs。　Valeriano；　you　innocent
reflection　of　the　dead　and　goneI　would　not　frighten　you　for　the
world。　Will　you　come　here　to…morrow　in　the　daytime？　I　have　got　a
chaise　and　a　pony。　Ariel；　my　delicate　Ariel；　can　drive。　She　shall
call　at　Mamma　Macallan's　and　fetch　you。　We　will　talk　to…morrow；
when　I　am　fit　for　it。　I　am　dying　to　hear　you。　I　will　be　fit　for
you　in　the　morning。　I　will　be　civil；　intelligent；　communicative；
in　the　morning。　No　more　of　it　now。　Away　with　the　subjectthe　too
exciting；　the　too　interesting　subject！　I　must　compose　myself　or
my　brains　will　explode　in　my　head。　Music　is　the　true　narcotic　for
excitable　brains。　My　harp！　my　harp！〃

He　rushed　away　in　his　chair　to　the　far　end　of　the　room；　passing
Mrs。　Macallan　as　she　returned　to　me；　bent　on　hastening　our
departure。

〃Come！〃　said　the　old　lady；　irritably。　〃You　have　seen　him；　and　he
has　made　a　good　show　of　himself。　More　of　him　might　be　tiresome。
Come　away。〃

The　chair　returned　to　us　more　slowly。　Miserrimus　Dexter　was
working　it　with　one　hand　only。　In　the　other　he　held　a　harp　of　a
pattern　which　I　had　hitherto　only　seen　in　pictures。　The　strings
were　few　in　number；　and　the　instrument　was　so　small　that　I　could
have　held　it　easily　on　my　lap。　It　was　the　ancient　harp　of　the
pictured　Muses　and　the　legendary　Welsh　bards。

〃Good…night；　Dexter；〃　said　Mrs。　Macallan。

He　held　up　one　hand　imperatively。

〃Wait！〃　he　said。　〃Let　her　hear　me　sing。〃　He　turned　to　me。　〃I
decline　to　be　indebted　to　other　people　for　my　poetry　and　my
music；〃　he　went　on。　〃I　compose　my　own　poetry　and　my　own　music。　I
improvise。　Give　me　a　moment　to　think。　I　will　improvise　for　You。〃

He　closed　his　eyes　and　rested　his　head　on　the　frame　of　the　harp。
His　fingers　gently　touched　the　strings　while　he　was　thinking。　In
a　few　minutes　he　lifted　his　head；　looked　at　me；　and　struck　the
first　notesthe　prelude　to　the　song。　It　was　wild；　barbaric；
monotonous　music；　utterly　unlike　any　modern　composition。
Sometimes　it　suggested　a　slow　and　undulating　Oriental　dance。
Sometimes　it　modulated　into　tones　which　reminded　me　of　the
severer　harmonies　of　the　old　Gregorian　chants。　The　words；　when
they　followed　the　prelude；　were　as　wild；　as　recklessly　free　from
all　restraint　of　critical　rules；　as　the　music。　They　were
assuredly　inspired　by　the　occasion；　I　was　the　theme　of　the
strange　song。　And　thusin　one　of　the　finest　tenor　voices　I　ever
heardmy　poet　sang　of　me：

　〃Why　does　she　come？　She　reminds　me　of　the　lost；　She　reminds　me
of　the　dead：　In　her　form　like　the　other；　In　her　walk　like　the
other：　Why　does　she　come？

〃Does　Destiny　bring　her？　Shall　we　range　together　The　mazes　of　the
past？　Shall　we　search　together　The　secrets　of　the　past？　Shall　we
interchange　thoughts；　surmises；　suspicions？　Does　Destiny　bring
her？

〃The　Future　will　show。　Let　the　night　pass；　Let　the　day　come。　I
shall　see　into　Her　mind：　She　will　look　into　Mine。　The　Future　will
show。〃

His　voice　sank；　his　fingers　touched　the　strings　more　and　more
feebly　as　he　approached　the　last　lines。　The　overwrought　brain
needed　and　took　its　reanimating　repose。　At　the　final　words　his
eyes　slowly　closed。　His　head　lay　back　on　the　chair。　He　slept　with
his　arms　around　his　harp；　as　a　child　sleeps　hugging　its　last　new
toy。

We　stole　out　of　the　room　on　tiptoe；　and　left　Miserrimus
Dexterpoet；　composer；　and　madmanin　his　peaceful　sleep。


CHAPTER　XXVI。

MORE　OF　MY　OBSTINACY。

　ARIEL　was　downstairs　in　the　shadowy　hall；　half　asleep；　half
awake；　waiting　to　see　the　visitors　clear　of　the　house。　Without
speaking　to　us；　without　looking　at　us；　she　led　the　way　down　the
dark　garden　walk；　and　locked　the　gate　behind　us。　〃Good…night；
Ariel；〃　I　called　out　to　her　over　the　paling。　Nothing　answered　me
but　the　tramp　of　her　heavy　footsteps　returning　to　the　house；　and
the　dull　thump；　a　moment　afterward；　of　the　closing　door。

The　footman　had　thoughtfully　lighted　the　carriage　lamps。　Carrying
one　of　them　to　serve　as　a　lantern；　he　lighted　us　over　the　wilds
of　the　brick　desert；　and　landed　us　safely　on　the　path　by　the
high…road。

〃Well！〃　said　my　mother…in…law；　when　we　were　comfortably　seated　in
the　carriage　again。　〃You　have　seen　Miserrimus　Dexter；　and　I　hope
you　are　satisfied。　I　will　do　him　the　justice　to　declare　that　I
never；　in　all　my　experience；　saw　him　more　completely　crazy　than
he　was　to…night。　What　do　_you_　say？〃

〃I　don't　presume　to　dispute　your　opinion；〃　I　answered。　〃But；
speaking　for　myself；　I'm　not　quite　sure　that　he　is　mad。〃

〃Not　mad！〃　cried　Mrs。　Macallan；　〃after　those　frantic　performances
in　his　chair？　Not　mad；　after　the　exhibition　he　made　of　his
unfortunate　cousin？　Not　mad；　after　the　song　that　he　sang　in　your
honor；　and　the　falling　asleep　by　way　of　conclusion？　Oh；　Valeria！
Valeria！　Well　said　the　wisdom　of　our　ancestorsthere　are　none　so
blind　as　those　who　won't　see。〃

〃Pardon　me；　dear　Mrs。　Macallan；　I　saw　everything　that　you
mention；　and　I　never　felt　more　surprised　or　more　confounded　in　my
life。　But　now　I　have　recovered　from　my　amazement；　and　can　think
it　over　quietly；　I　must　still　venture　to　doubt　whether　this
strange　man　is　really　mad　in　the　true　meaning　of　the　word。　It
seems　to　me　that　he　only　expressesI　admit　in　a　very　reckless
and　boisterous　waythoughts　and　feelings　which　most　of　us　are
ashamed　of　as　weaknesses；　and　which　we　keep　to　ourselves
accordingly。　I　confess　I　have　often　fancied　myself　transformed
into　some　other　person；　and　have　felt　a　certain　pleasure　in
seeing　myself　in　my　new　character。　One　of　our　first　amusements　as
children　（if　we　have　any　imagination　at　all）　is　to　get　out　of　our
own　characters；　and　to　try　the　characters　of　other　personages　as
a　changeto　fairies；　to　be　queens；　to　be　anything；　in　short；　but
what　we　really　are。　Mr。　Dexter　lets　out　the　secret　just　as　the
children　do；　and　if　that　is　madness；　he　is　certainly　mad。　But　I
noticed　that　when　his　imagination　cooled　down　he　became
Miserrimus　Dexter　againhe　no　more　believed　himself　than　we
believed　him　to　be　Napoleon　or　Shakespeare。　Besides；　some
allowance　is　surely　to　be　made　for　the　solitary；　sedentary　life
that　he　leads。　I　am　not　learned　enough　to　trace　the　influence　of
that　life　in　making　him　what　he　is；　but　I　think　I　can　see　the
result　in　an　over…excited　imagination；　and　I　fancy　I　can　trace
his　exhibiting　his　power　over　the　poor　cousin　and　his　singing　of
that　wonderful　song　to　no　more　formidable　cause　than　inordinate
self…conceit。　I　hope　the　confession　will　not　lower　me　seriously
in　your　good　opinion；　but　I　must　say　I　have　enjoyed　my　visit；
and；　worse　still；　Miserrimus　Dexter　really　interests　me。〃

〃Does　this　learned　discourse　on　Dexter　mean　that　you　are　going　to
see　him　again？〃　asked　Mrs。　Macallan。

〃I　don't　know　how　I　may　feel　about　it　tomorrow　morning；〃　I　said；
〃but　my　impulse　at　this　moment　is　decidedly　to　see　him　again。　I
had　a　little　talk　with　him　while　you　were　away　at　the　other　end
of　the　room；　and　I　believe　he　really　can　be　of　use　to　me〃

〃Of　use　to　you　in　what？〃　interposed　my　mother…in…law。

〃In　the　one　object　which　I　have　in　viewthe　object；　dear　Mrs。
Macallan；　which　I　regret　to　say　you　do　not　approve。〃

〃And　you　are　going　to　take　him　into　your　confidence？　to　open　your
whole　mind　to　such　a　man　as　the　man　we　have　just　left？〃

〃Yes；　if　I　think　of　it　to…morrow　as　I　think　of　it　to…night。　I
dare　say　it　is　a　risk；　but　I　must　run　risks。　I　know　I　am　not
prudent；　but　prudence　won't　help　a　woman　in　my　position；　with　my
end　to　gain。〃

Mrs。　Macallan　made　no　further　remonstrance　in　words。　She　opened　a
capacious　pocket　in　front　of　the　carriage；　and　took　from　it　a　box
of　matches　and　a　railway　reading…lamp。

〃You　provoke　me；〃　said　the　old　lady；　〃into　showing　you　what　your
husband　thinks　of　this　new　whim　of　yours。　I　have　got　his　letter
with　mehis　last　letter　from　Spain。　You　shall　judge　for
yourself；　you　poor　deluded　young　creature；　whether　my　son　is
worthy　of　the　sacrificethe　useless　and　hopeless
sacrificewhich　you　are　bent　on　making　of　yourself　for　his　sake。
Strike　a　light！〃

I　willingly　obeyed　her。　Ever　since　she　had　informed　me　of
Eustace's　departure　to　Spain　I　had　been　eager　for　more　news　of
him；　for　something　to　sustain　my　spirits；　after　so　much　that　had
disappointed　and　depressed　me。　Thus　far　I　did　not　even　know
whether　my　husband　thought　of　me　sometimes　in　his　self…imposed
exile。　As　to　this　regretting　already　the　rash　act　which　had
separated　us；　it　was　still　too　soon　to　begin　hoping　for　that。

The　lamp　having　been　lighted；　and　fixed　in　its　place　between　the
two　front　windows　of　the　carriage；　Mrs。　Macallan　produced　her
son's　letter。　There　is　no　folly　like　the　folly　of　love。　It　cost
me　a　hard　struggle　to　restrain　myself　from　kissing　the　paper　on
which　the　dear　hand　had　rested。

〃There！〃　said　my　mother…in…law。　〃Begin　on　the　second　page；　the
page　devoted　to　you。　Read　straight　down　to　the　last　line　at　the
bottom；　and；　in　God's　name；　come　back　to　your　senses；　child；
before　it　is　too　late！〃

I　followed　my　instructions；　and　read　these　words：

〃Can　I　trust　myself　to　write　of　Valeria？　I　_must_　write　of　her。
Tell　me　how　she　is；　how　she　looks；　what　she　is　doing。　I　am　always
thinking　of　her。　Not　a　day　passes　but　I　mourn　the　loss　of　her。
Oh；　if　she　had　only　been　contented　to　let　matters　rest　as　they
were！　Oh；　if　she　had　never　discovered　the　miserable　truth！

〃She　spoke　of　reading　the　Trial　when　I　saw　her　last。　Has　she
persisted　in　doing　so？　I　believeI　say　this　seriously；　motherI
believe　the　shame　and　the　horror　of　it　would　have　been　the　death
of　me　if　I　had　met　her　face　to　face　when　she　first　knew　of　the
ignominy　that　I　have　suffered；　of　the　infamous　suspicion　of　which
I　have　been