the black robe-第5章

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Something　that　I　was　afraid　of　has　not　happened。　I　am　used　to



wakeful　nights。　Go　back　to　bed；　and　don't　be　uneasy　about　me。〃







The　next　morning　the　deferred　explanation　was　put　off　again。







〃Do　you　mind　waiting　a　little　longer？〃　he　asked。







〃Not　if　you　particularly　wish　it。〃







〃Will　you　do　me　another　favor？　You　know　that　I　don't　like　London。



The　noise　in　the　streets　is　distracting。　Besides；　I　may　tell　you



I　have　a　sort　of　distrust　of　noise；　since〃　He　stopped；　with　an



appearance　of　confusion。







〃Since　I　found　you　looking　into　the　engine…room？〃　I　asked。







〃Yes。　I　don't　feel　inclined　to　trust　the　chances　of　another　night



in　London。　I　want　to　try　the　effect　of　perfect　quiet。　Do　you　mind



going　back　with　me　to　Vange？　Dull　as　the　place　is；　you　can　amuse



yourself。　There　is　good　shooting；　as　you　know。〃







In　an　hour　more　we　had　left　London。







VII。







VANGE　ABBEY　is；　I　suppose；　the　most　solitary　country　house　in



England。　If　Romayne　wanted　quiet；　it　was　exactly　the　place　for



him。







On　the　rising　ground　of　one　of　the　wildest　moors　in　the　North



Riding　of　Yorkshire；　the　ruins　of　the　old　monastery　are　visible



from　all　points　of　the　compass。　There　are　traditions　of　thriving



villages　clustering　about　the　Abbey；　in　the　days　of　the　monks；



and　of　hostleries　devoted　to　the　reception　of　pilgrims　from　every



part　of　the　Christian　world。　Not　a　vestige　of　these　buildings　is



left。　They　were　deserted　by　the　pious　inhabitants；　it　is　said；　at



the　time　when　Henry　the　Eighth　suppress　ed　the　monasteries；　and



gave　the　Abbey　and　the　broad　lands　of　Vange　to　his　faithful



friend　and　courtier；　Sir　Miles　Romayne。　In　the　next　generation；



the　son　and　heir　of　Sir　Miles　built　the　dwelling…house；　helping



himself　liberally　from　the　solid　stone　walls　of　the　monastery。



With　some　unimportant　alterations　and　repairs；　the　house　stands；



defying　time　and　weather；　to　the　present　day。







At　the　last　station　on　the　railway　the　horses　were　waiting　for



us。　It　was　a　lovely　moonlight　night；　and　we　shortened　the



distance　considerably　by　taking　the　bridle　path　over　the　moor。



Between　nine　and　ten　o'clock　we　reached　the　Abbey。







Years　had　passed　since　I　had　last　been　Romayne's　guest。　Nothing；



out　of　the　house　or　in　the　house；　seemed　to　have　undergone　any



change　in　the　interval。　Neither　the　good　North…country　butler；



nor　his　buxom　Scotch　wife；　skilled　in　cookery；　looked　any　older：



they　received　me　as　if　I　had　left　them　a　day　or　two　since；　and



had　come　back　again　to　live　in　Yorkshire。　My　well…remembered



bedroom　was　waiting　for　me；　and　the　matchless　old　Madeira



welcomed　us　when　my　host　and　I　met　in　the　inner…hall；　which　was



the　ordinary　dining…room　of　the　Abbey。







As　we　faced　each　other　at　the　well…spread　table；　I　began　to　hope



that　the　familiar　influences　of　his　country　home　were　beginning



already　to　breathe　their　blessed　quiet　over　the　disturbed　mind　of



Romayne。　In　the　presence　of　his　faithful　old　servants；　he　seemed



to　be　capable　of　controlling　the　morbid　remorse　that　oppressed



him。　He　spoke　to　them　composedly　and　kindly；　he　was



affectionately　glad　to　see　his　old　friend　once　more　in　the　old



house。







When　we　were　near　the　end　of　our　meal；　something　happened　that



startled　me。　I　had　just　handed　the　wine　to　Romayne；　and　he　had



filled　his　glasswhen　he　suddenly　turned　pale；　and　lifted　his



head　like　a　man　whose　attention　is　unexpectedly　roused。　No　person



but　ourselves　was　in　the　room；　I　was　not　speaking　to　him　at　the



time。　He　looked　round　suspiciously　at　the　door　behind　him；



leading　into　the　library；　and　rang　the　old…fashioned　handbell



which　stood　by　him　on　the　table。　The　servant　was　directed　to



close　the　door。







〃Are　you　cold？〃　I　asked。







〃No。〃　He　reconsidered　that　brief　answer；　and　contradicted



himself。　〃Yesthe　library　fire　has　burned　low；　I　suppose。〃







In　my　position　at　the　table；　I　had　seen　the　fire：　the　grate　was



heaped　with　blazing　coals　and　wood。　I　said　nothing。　The　pale



change　in　his　face；　and　his　contradictory　reply；　roused　doubts　in



me　which　I　had　hoped　never　to　feel　again。







He　pushed　away　his　glass　of　wine；　and　still　kept　his　eyes　fixed



on　the　closed　door。　His　attitude　and　expression　were　plainly



suggestive　of　the　act　of　listening。　Listening　to　what？







After　an　interval；　he　abruptly　addressed　me。　〃Do　you　call　it　a



quiet　night？〃　he　said。







〃As　quiet　as　quiet　can　be；〃　I　replied。　〃The　wind　has　droppedand



even　the　fire　doesn't　crackle。　Perfect　stillness　indoors　and



out。〃







〃Out？〃　he　repeated。　For　a　moment　he　looked　at　me　intently；　as　if



I　had　started　some　new　idea　in　his　mind。　I　asked　as　lightly　as　I



could　if　I　had　said　anything　to　surprise　him。　Instead　of



answering　me；　he　sprang　to　his　feet　with　a　cry　of　terror；　and



left　the　room。







I　hardly　knew　what　to　do。　It　was　impossible；　unless　he　returned



immediately　to　let　this　extraordinary　proceeding　pass　without



notice。　After　waiting　for　a　few　minutes　I　rang　the　bell。







The　old　butler　came　in。　He　looked　in　blank　amazement　at　the　empty



chair。　〃Where's　the　master？〃　he　asked。







I　could　only　answer　that　he　had　left　the　table　suddenly；　without



a　word　of　explanation。　〃He　may　perhaps　be　ill；〃　I　added。　〃As　his



old　servant；　you　can　do　no　harm　if　you　go　and　look　for　him。　Say



that　I　am　waiting　here；　if　he　wants　me。〃







The　minutes　passed　slowly　and　more　slowly。　I　was　left　alone　for



so　long　a　time　that　I　began　to　feel　seriously　uneasy。　My　hand　was



on　the　bell　again；　when　there　was　a　knock　at　the　door。　I　had



expected　to　see　the　butler。　It　was　the　groom　who　entered　the



room。







〃Garthwaite　can't　come　down　to　you；　sir；〃　said　the　man。　〃He　asks；



if　you　will　please　go　up　to　the　master　on　the　Belvidere。〃







The　houseextending　round　three　sides　of　a　squarewas　only　two



stories　high。　The　flat　roof；　accessible　through　a　species　of



hatchway；　and　still　surrounded　by　its　sturdy　stone　parapet；　was



called　〃The　Belvidere；〃　in　reference　as　usual　to　the　fine　view



which　it　commanded。　Fearing　I　knew　not　what；　I　mounted　the　ladder



which　led　to　the　roof。　Romayne　received　me　with　a　harsh　outburst



of　laughterthat　saddest　false　laughter　which　is　true　trouble　in



disguise。







〃Here's　something　to　amuse　you！〃　he　cried。　〃I　believe　old



Garthwaite　thinks　I　am　drunkhe　won't　leave　me　up　here　by



myself。〃







Letting　this　strange　assertion　remain　unanswered；　the　butler



withdrew。　As　he　passed　me　on　his　way　to　the　ladder；　he　whispered：



〃Be　careful　of　the　master！　I　tell　you；　sir；　he　has　a　bee　in　his



bonnet　this　night。〃







Although　not　of　the　north　country　myself；　I　knew　the　meaning　of



the　phrase。　Garthwaite　suspected　that　the　master　was　nothing　less



than　mad！







Romayne　took　my　arm　when　we　were　alonewe　walked　slowly　from　end



to　end　of　the　Belvidere。　The　moon　was；　by　this　time；　low　in　the



heavens；　but　her　mild　mysterious　light　still　streamed　over　the



roof　of　the　house　and　the　high　heathy　ground　round　it。　I　looked



attentively　at　Romayne。　He　was　deadly　pale；　his　hand　shook　as　it



rested　on　my　armand　that　was　all。　Neither　in　look　nor　manner



did　he　betray　the　faintest　sign　of　mental　derangement。　He　had



perhaps　needlessly　alarmed　the　faithful　old　servant　by　something



that　he　had　said　or　done。　I　determined　to　clear　up　that　doubt



immediately。







〃You　left　the　table　very　suddenly；〃　I　said。　〃Did　you　feel　ill？〃







〃Not　ill；〃　he　replied。　〃I　was　frightened。　Look　at　meI'm



frightened　still。〃







〃What　do　you　mean？〃







Instead　of　answering；　he　repeated　the　strange　question　which　he



had　put　to　me　downstairs。







〃Do　you　call　it　a　quiet　night？〃







Considering　the　time　of　year；　and　the　exposed　situation　of　the



house；　the　night　was　almost　preternaturally　quiet。　Throughout　the



vast　open　country　all　round　us；　not　even　a　breath　of　air　could　be



heard。　The　night…birds　were　away；　or　were　silent　at　the　time。　But



one　sound　was　audible；　when　we　stood　still　and　listenedthe　cool



quiet　bubble　of　a　little　stream；　lost　to　view　in　the



valley…ground　to　the　south。







〃I　have　told　you　already；〃　I　said。　〃So　still　a　night　I　never



remember　on　this　Yorkshire　moor。〃







He　laid　one　hand　heavily　on　my　shoulder。　〃What　did　the　poor　boy



say　of　me；　whose　brother　I　killed？〃　he　asked。　〃What　words　did　we



hear　through　the　dripping　darkness　of　the　mist？〃







〃I　won't　encourage　you　to　think　of　them。　I　refuse　to　repeat　the



words。〃







He　pointed　over　the　northward　parapet。







〃It　doesn't　matter　whether　you　accept　or　refuse；〃　he　said；　〃I



hear　the　boy　at　this　momentthere！〃







He　repeated　the　horrid　wordsmarking　the　pauses　in　the　utterance



of　them　with　his　finger；　as　if　they　were　sounds　that　he　heard：







〃Assassin！　Assassin！　where　are　you？〃







〃Good　God！〃　I　cried。　〃You　don't　mean　that　you　really　_hear_　the



voice？〃







〃Do　you　hear　what　I　say？　I　hear　the　boy　as　plainly　as　you　hear



me。　The　voice　screams　at　me　through　the　clear　moonlight；　as　it



screamed　at　me　through　the　sea…fog。　Again　and　again。　It's　all



round　the　house。　_That_　way　now；　where　the　light　just　touches　on



the　tops　of　the　heather。　Tell　the　servants　to　have　the　horses



ready　the　first　thing　in　the　morning。　We　leave　Vange　Abbey



to…morrow。〃







These　were　wild　words。　If　he　had　spoken　them　wildly；　I　might　have



shared　the　butler's　conclusion　that　his　mind　was　deranged。　There



was　no　undue　vehemence　in　his　voice　or　his　manner。　He　spoke　with



a　melancholy　resignationhe　seemed　like　a　prisoner　submitting　to



a　sentence　that　he　had　deserved。　Remembering　the　cases　of　men



suffering　from　nervous　disease　who　had　been　haunted　by



apparitions；　I　asked　if　he　saw　any　imaginary　figure　under　the



form　of　a　boy。







〃I　see　nothing；〃　he　said；　〃I　only　hear。　Look　yourself。　It　is　in



the　last　degree　improbablebut　let　us　make　sure　that　nobody　has



followed　me　from　Boulogne；　and　is　playing　me　a　trick。〃







We　made　the　circuit　of　the　Belvidere。　On　its　eastward　side　the



house　wall　was　built　against　one　of　the　towers　of　the　old　Ab　bey。



On　the　westward　side；　the　ground　sloped　steeply　down　to　a　deep



pool　or　tarn。　Northward　and　southward；　there　was　nothing　to　be



seen　but　t