English
TheexposedsituationofthechurchyardhadobligedmetobecautiousinchoosingthepositionthatIwastooccupy.
Themainentrancetothechurchwasonthesidenexttotheburial-ground,andthedoorwasscreenedbyaporchwalledinoneitherside.
Aftersomelittlehesitation,causedbynaturalreluctancetoconcealmyself,indispensableasthatconcealmentwastotheobjectinview,Ihadresolvedonenteringtheporch.
Aloopholewindowwaspiercedineachofitssidewalls.
ThroughoneofthesewindowsIcouldseeMrs.Fairlie’sgrave.
Theotherlookedtowardsthestonequarryinwhichthesexton’scottagewasbuilt.
Beforeme,frontingtheporchentrance,wasapatchofbareburial-ground,alineoflowstonewall,andastripoflonelybrownhill,withthesunsetcloudssailingheavilyoveritbeforethestrong,steadywind.
Nolivingcreaturewasvisibleoraudible—nobirdflewbyme,nodogbarkedfromthesexton’scottage.
Thepausesinthedullbeatingofthesurfwerefilledupbythedrearyrustlingofthedwarftreesnearthegrave,andthecoldfaintbubbleofthebrookoveritsstonybed.Adrearysceneandadrearyhour.
MyspiritssankfastasIcountedouttheminutesoftheeveninginmyhiding-placeunderthechurchporch.
Itwasnottwilightyet—thelightofthesettingsunstilllingeredintheheavens,andlittlemorethanthefirsthalf-hourofmysolitarywatchhadelapsed—whenIheardfootstepsandavoice.
Thefootstepswereapproachingfromtheothersideofthechurch,andthevoicewasawoman’s.
“Don’tyoufret,mydear,abouttheletter,”saidthevoice.
“Igaveittotheladquitesafe,andtheladhetookitfrommewithoutaword.
HewenthiswayandIwentmine,andnotalivingsoulfollowedmeafterwards—thatI’llwarrant.”
Thesewordsstrungupmyattentiontoapitchofexpectationthatwasalmostpainful.
Therewasapauseofsilence,butthefootstepsstilladvanced.
Inanothermomenttwopersons,bothwomen,passedwithinmyrangeofviewfromtheporchwindow.
Theywerewalkingstraighttowardsthegrave;andthereforetheyhadtheirbacksturnedtowardsme.
Oneofthewomenwasdressedinabonnetandshawl.
Theotherworealongtravelling-cloakofadark-bluecolour,withthehooddrawnoverherhead.
Afewinchesofhergownwerevisiblebelowthecloak.
MyheartbeatfastasInotedthecolour—itwaswhite.
Afteradvancingabouthalf-waybetweenthechurchandthegravetheystopped,andthewomaninthecloakturnedherheadtowardshercompanion.
Buthersideface,whichabonnetmightnowhaveallowedmetosee,washiddenbytheheavy,projectingedgeofthehood.
“Mindyoukeepthatcomfortablewarmcloakon,”saidthesamevoicewhichIhadalreadyheard—thevoiceofthewomanintheshawl.
“Mrs.Toddisrightaboutyourlookingtooparticular,yesterday,allinwhite.
I’llwalkaboutalittlewhileyou’rehere,churchyardsbeingnotatallinmyway,whatevertheymaybeinyours.
FinishwhatyouwanttodobeforeIcomeback,andletusbesureandgethomeagainbeforenight.”
Withthosewordssheturnedabout,andretracinghersteps,advancedwithherfacetowardsme.
Itwasthefaceofanelderlywoman,brown,rugged,andhealthy,withnothingdishonestorsuspiciousinthelookofit.
Closetothechurchshestoppedtopullhershawlcloserroundher.
“Queer,”shesaidtoherself,“alwaysqueer,withherwhimsandherways,eversinceIcanrememberher.Harmless,though—asharmless,poorsoul,asalittlechild.”
Shesighed—lookedabouttheburial-groundnervously—shookherhead,asifthedrearyprospectbynomeanspleasedher,anddisappearedroundthecornerofthechurch.
IdoubtedforamomentwhetherIoughttofollowandspeaktoherornot.
Myintenseanxietytofindmyselffacetofacewithhercompanionhelpedmetodecideinthenegative.
Icouldensureseeingthewomanintheshawlbywaitingnearthechurchyarduntilshecameback—althoughitseemedmorethandoubtfulwhethershecouldgivemetheinformationofwhichIwasinsearch.
Thepersonwhohaddeliveredtheletterwasoflittleconsequence.
Thepersonwhohadwrittenitwastheonecentreofinterest,andtheonesourceofinformation,andthatpersonInowfeltconvincedwasbeforemeinthechurchyard.
WhiletheseideaswerepassingthroughmymindIsawthewomaninthecloakapproachclosetothegrave,andstandlookingatitforalittlewhile.
Shethenglancedallroundher,andtakingawhitelinenclothorhandkerchieffromunderhercloak,turnedasidetowardsthebrook.
Thelittlestreamranintothechurchyardunderatinyarchwayinthebottomofthewall,andranoutagain,afterawindingcourseofafewdozenyards,underasimilaropening.
Shedippedtheclothinthewater,andreturnedtothegrave.
Isawherkissthewhitecross,thenkneeldownbeforetheinscription,andapplyherwetclothtothecleansingofit.
AfterconsideringhowIcouldshowmyselfwiththeleastpossiblechanceoffrighteningher,Iresolvedtocrossthewallbeforeme,toskirtrounditoutside,andtoenterthechurchyardagainbythestilenearthegrave,inorderthatshemightseemeasIapproached.
ShewassoabsorbedoverheremploymentthatshedidnothearmecominguntilIhadsteppedoverthestile.
Thenshelookedup,startedtoherfeetwithafaintcry,andstoodfacingmeinspeechlessandmotionlessterror.
“Don’tbefrightened,”Isaid.“Surelyyourememberme?”
IstoppedwhileIspoke—thenadvancedafewstepsgently—thenstoppedagain—andsoapproachedbylittleandlittletillIwasclosetoher.
Iftherehadbeenanydoubtstillleftinmymind,itmusthavebeennowsetatrest.
There,speakingaffrightedlyforitself—therewasthesamefaceconfrontingmeoverMrs.Fairlie’sgravewhichhadfirstlookedintomineonthehigh-roadbynight.
“Yourememberme?”Isaid.“Wemetverylate,andIhelpedyoutofindthewaytoLondon.Surelyyouhavenotforgottenthat?”
Herfeaturesrelaxed,andshedrewaheavybreathofrelief.Isawthenewlifeofrecognitionstirringslowlyunderthedeath-likestillnesswhichfearhadsetonherface.
“Don’tattempttospeaktomejustyet,”Iwenton.“Taketimetorecoveryourself—taketimetofeelquitecertainthatIamafriend.”
“Youareverykindtome,”shemurmured.“Askindnowasyouwerethen.”
Shestopped,andIkeptsilenceonmyside.
Iwasnotgrantingtimeforcomposuretoheronly,Iwasgainingtimealsoformyself.
Underthewanwildeveninglight,thatwomanandIweremettogetheragain,agravebetweenus,thedeadaboutus,thelonesomehillsclosingusroundoneveryside.
Thetime,theplace,thecircumstancesunderwhichwenowstoodfacetofaceintheeveningstillnessofthatdrearyvalley—thelifelonginterestswhichmighthangsuspendedonthenextchancewordsthatpassedbetweenus—thesensethat,foraughtIknewtothecontrary,thewholefutureofLauraFairlie’slifemightbedetermined,forgoodorforevil,bymywinningorlosingtheconfidenceoftheforlorncreaturewhostoodtremblingbyhermother’sgrave—allthreatenedtoshakethesteadinessandtheself-controlonwhicheveryinchoftheprogressImightyetmakenowdepended.
Itriedhard,asIfeltthis,topossessmyselfofallmyresources;Ididmyutmosttoturnthefewmomentsforreflectiontothebestaccount.
“Areyoucalmernow?”Isaid,assoonasIthoughtittimetospeakagain.“Canyoutalktomewithoutfeelingfrightened,andwithoutforgettingthatIamafriend?”
“Howdidyoucomehere?”sheasked,withoutnoticingwhatIhadjustsaidtoher.
“Don’tyouremembermytellingyou,whenwelastmet,thatIwasgoingtoCumberland?IhavebeeninCumberlandeversince—IhavebeenstayingallthetimeatLimmeridgeHouse.”
“AtLimmeridgeHouse!”Herpalefacebrightenedassherepeatedthewords,herwanderingeyesfixedonmewithasuddeninterest.“Ah,howhappyyoumusthavebeen!”
shesaid,lookingatmeeagerly,withoutashadowofitsformerdistrustleftinherexpression.
Itookadvantageofhernewly-arousedconfidenceinmetoobserveherface,withanattentionandacuriositywhichIhadhithertorestrainedmyselffromshowing,forcaution’ssake.
Ilookedather,withmymindfullofthatotherlovelyfacewhichhadsoominouslyrecalledhertomymemoryontheterracebymoonlight.
IhadseenAnneCatherick’slikenessinMissFairlie.
InowsawMissFairlie’slikenessinAnneCatherick—sawitallthemoreclearlybecausethepointsofdissimilaritybetweenthetwowerepresentedtomeaswellasthepointsofresemblance.
Inthegeneraloutlineofthecountenanceandgeneralproportionofthefeatures—inthecolourofthehairandinthelittlenervousuncertaintyaboutthelips—intheheightandsizeofthefigure,andthecarriageoftheheadandbody,thelikenessappearedevenmorestartlingthanIhadeverfeltittobeyet.
Buttheretheresemblanceended,andthedissimilarity,indetails,began.
ThedelicatebeautyofMissFairlie’scomplexion,thetransparentclearnessofhereyes,thesmoothpurityofherskin,thetenderbloomofcolouronherlips,wereallmissingfromthewornwearyfacethatwasnowturnedtowardsmine.
AlthoughIhatedmyselfevenforthinkingsuchathing,still,whileIlookedatthewomanbeforeme,theideawouldforceitselfintomymindthatonesadchange,inthefuture,wasallthatwaswantingtomakethelikenesscomplete,whichInowsawtobesoimperfectindetail.
IfeversorrowandsufferingsettheirprofaningmarksontheyouthandbeautyofMissFairlie’sface,then,andthenonly,AnneCatherickandshewouldbethetwin-sistersofchanceresemblance,thelivingreflectionsofoneanother.
Ishudderedatthethought.Therewassomethinghorribleintheblindunreasoningdistrustofthefuturewhichthemerepassageofitthroughmymindseemedtoimply.
ItwasawelcomeinterruptiontoberousedbyfeelingAnneCatherick’shandlaidonmyshoulder.
Thetouchwasasstealthyandassuddenasthatothertouchwhichhadpetrifiedmefromheadtofootonthenightwhenwefirstmet.
“Youarelookingatme,andyouarethinkingofsomething,”shesaid,withherstrangebreathlessrapidityofutterance.“Whatisit?”
“Nothingextraordinary,”Ianswered.“Iwasonlywonderinghowyoucamehere.”
“Icamewithafriendwhoisverygoodtome.Ihaveonlybeenheretwodays.”
“Andyoufoundyourwaytothisplaceyesterday?”
“Howdoyouknowthat?”
“Ionlyguessedit.”
Sheturnedfromme,andkneltdownbeforetheinscriptiononcemore.
“WhereshouldIgoifnothere?”shesaid.
“ThefriendwhowasbetterthanamothertomeistheonlyfriendIhavetovisitatLimmeridge.
Oh,itmakesmyheartachetoseeastainonhertomb!
Itoughttobekeptwhiteassnow,forhersake.
Iwastemptedtobegincleaningityesterday,andIcan’thelpcomingbacktogoonwithitto-day.Isthereanythingwronginthat?Ihopenot.
SurelynothingcanbewrongthatIdoforMrs.Fairlie’ssake?”
Theoldgratefulsenseofherbenefactress’skindnesswasevidentlytherulingideastillinthepoorcreature’smind—thenarrowmindwhichhadbuttooplainlyopenedtonootherlastingimpressionsincethatfirstimpressionofheryoungerandhappierdays.
Isawthatmybestchanceofwinningherconfidencelayinencouraginghertoproceedwiththeartlessemploymentwhichshehadcomeintotheburial-groundtopursue.
Sheresumeditatonce,onmytellinghershemightdoso,touchingthehardmarbleastenderlyasifithadbeenasentientthing,andwhisperingthewordsoftheinscriptiontoherself,overandoveragain,asifthelostdaysofhergirlhoodhadreturnedandshewaspatientlylearningherlessononcemoreatMrs.Fairlie’sknees.
“Shouldyouwonderverymuch,”Isaid,preparingthewayascautiouslyasIcouldforthequestionsthatweretocome,“ifIownedthatitisasatisfactiontome,aswellasasurprise,toseeyouhere?
Ifeltveryuneasyaboutyouafteryouleftmeinthecab.”
Shelookedupquicklyandsuspiciously.
“Uneasy,”sherepeated.“Why?”
“Astrangethinghappenedafterwepartedthatnight.Twomenovertookmeinachaise.
TheydidnotseewhereIwasstanding,buttheystoppednearme,andspoketoapolicemanontheothersideoftheway.”
Sheinstantlysuspendedheremployment.Thehandholdingthedampclothwithwhichshehadbeencleaningtheinscriptiondroppedtoherside.
Theotherhandgraspedthemarblecrossattheheadofthegrave.
Herfaceturnedtowardsmeslowly,withtheblanklookofterrorsetrigidlyonitoncemore.
Iwentonatallhazards—itwastoolatenowtodrawback.
“Thetwomenspoketothepoliceman,”Isaid,“andaskedhimifhehadseenyou.Hehadnotseenyou;andthenoneofthemenspokeagain,andsaidyouhadescapedfromhisAsylum.”
Shesprangtoherfeetasifmylastwordshadsetthepursuersonhertrack.
“Stop!andheartheend,”Icried.“Stop!
andyoushallknowhowIbefriendedyou.
Awordfrommewouldhavetoldthemenwhichwayyouhadgone—andIneverspokethatword.
Ihelpedyourescape—Imadeitsafeandcertain.Think,trytothink.TrytounderstandwhatItellyou.”
Mymannerseemedtoinfluencehermorethanmywords.
Shemadeanefforttograspthenewidea.
Herhandsshiftedthedampclothhesitatinglyfromonetotheother,exactlyastheyhadshiftedthelittletravelling-bagonthenightwhenIfirstsawher.
Slowlythepurposeofmywordsseemedtoforceitswaythroughtheconfusionandagitationofhermind.
Slowlyherfeaturesrelaxed,andhereyeslookedatmewiththeirexpressiongainingincuriositywhatitwasfastlosinginfear.
“YOUdon’tthinkIoughttobebackintheAsylum,doyou?”shesaid.
“Certainlynot.Iamgladyouescapedfromit—IamgladIhelpedyou.”
“Yes,yes,youdidhelpmeindeed;youhelpedmeatthehardpart,”shewentonalittlevacantly.
“Itwaseasytoescape,orIshouldnothavegotaway.
Theyneversuspectedmeastheysuspectedtheothers.
Iwassoquiet,andsoobedient,andsoeasilyfrightened.
ThefindingLondonwasthehardpart,andthereyouhelpedme.DidIthankyouatthetime?Ithankyounowverykindly.”
“WastheAsylumfarfromwhereyoumetme?Come!showthatyoubelievemetobeyourfriend,andtellmewhereitwas.”
Shementionedtheplace—aprivateAsylum,asitssituationinformedme;aprivateAsylumnotveryfarfromthespotwhereIhadseenher—andthen,withevidentsuspicionoftheusetowhichImightputheranswer,anxiouslyrepeatedherformerinquiry,“Youdon’tthinkIoughttobetakenback,doyou?”
“Onceagain,Iamgladyouescaped—Iamgladyouprosperedwellafteryouleftme,”Ianswered.“YousaidyouhadafriendinLondontogoto.Didyoufindthefriend?”
“Yes.Itwasverylate,buttherewasagirlupatneedle-workinthehouse,andshehelpedmetorouseMrs.Clements.Mrs.Clementsismyfriend.
Agood,kindwoman,butnotlikeMrs.Fairlie.Ahno,nobodyislikeMrs.Fairlie!”
“IsMrs.Clementsanoldfriendofyours?Haveyouknownheralongtime?”
“Yes,shewasaneighbourofoursonce,athome,inHampshire,andlikedme,andtookcareofmewhenIwasalittlegirl.
Yearsago,whenshewentawayfromus,shewrotedowninmyPrayer-bookformewhereshewasgoingtoliveinLondon,andshesaid,‘Ifyouareeverintrouble,Anne,cometome.
Ihavenohusbandalivetosaymenay,andnochildrentolookafter,andIwilltakecareofyou.’Kindwords,weretheynot?
IsupposeIrememberthembecausetheywerekind.
It’slittleenoughIrememberbesides—littleenough,littleenough!”
“Hadyounofatherormothertotakecareofyou?”
“Father?—Ineversawhim—Ineverheardmotherspeakofhim.Father?Ah,dear!heisdead,Isuppose.”
“Andyourmother?”
“Idon’tgetonwellwithher.Weareatroubleandafeartoeachother.”
Atroubleandafeartoeachother!Atthosewordsthesuspicioncrossedmymind,forthefirsttime,thathermothermightbethepersonwhohadplacedherunderrestraint.
“Don’taskmeaboutmother,”shewenton.“I’drathertalkofMrs.Clements.
Mrs.Clementsislikeyou,shedoesn’tthinkthatIoughttobebackintheAsylum,andsheisasgladasyouarethatIescapedfromit.
Shecriedovermymisfortune,andsaiditmustbekeptsecretfromeverybody.”
Her“misfortune.”Inwhatsensewassheusingthatword?
Inasensewhichmightexplainhermotiveinwritingtheanonymousletter?
Inasensewhichmightshowittobethetoocommonandtoocustomarymotivethathasledmanyawomantointerposeanonymoushindrancestothemarriageofthemanwhohasruinedher?
Iresolvedtoattempttheclearingupofthisdoubtbeforemorewordspassedbetweenusoneitherside.
“Whatmisfortune?”Iasked.
“Themisfortuneofmybeingshutup,”sheanswered,witheveryappearanceoffeelingsurprisedatmyquestion.“Whatothermisfortunecouldtherebe?”
Ideterminedtopersist,asdelicatelyandforbearinglyaspossible.ItwasofverygreatimportancethatIshouldbeabsolutelysureofeverystepintheinvestigationwhichInowgainedinadvance.
“Thereisanothermisfortune,”Isaid,“towhichawomanmaybeliable,andbywhichshemaysufferlifelongsorrowandshame.”
“Whatisit?”sheaskedeagerly.
“Themisfortuneofbelievingtooinnocentlyinherownvirtue,andinthefaithandhonourofthemansheloves,”Ianswered.
Shelookedupatmewiththeartlessbewildermentofachild.
Nottheslightestconfusionorchangeofcolour—notthefaintesttraceofanysecretconsciousnessofshamestrugglingtothesurfaceappearedinherface—thatfacewhichbetrayedeveryotheremotionwithsuchtransparentclearness.
Nowordsthateverwerespokencouldhaveassuredme,asherlookandmannernowassuredme,thatthemotivewhichIhadassignedforherwritingtheletterandsendingittoMissFairliewasplainlyanddistinctlythewrongone.
Thatdoubt,atanyrate,wasnowsetatrest;buttheveryremovalofitopenedanewprospectofuncertainty.
Theletter,asIknewfrompositivetestimony,pointedatSirPercivalGlyde,thoughitdidnotnamehim.
Shemusthavehadsomestrongmotive,originatinginsomedeepsenseofinjury,forsecretlydenouncinghimtoMissFairlieinsuchtermsasshehademployed,andthatmotivewasunquestionablynottobetracedtothelossofherinnocenceandhercharacter.
Whateverwronghemighthaveinflictedonherwasnotofthatnature.Ofwhatnaturecoulditbe?
“Idon’tunderstandyou,”shesaid,afterevidentlytryinghard,andtryinginvain,todiscoverthemeaningofthewordsIhadlastsaidtoher.
“Nevermind,”Ianswered.“Letusgoonwithwhatweweretalkingabout.TellmehowlongyoustayedwithMrs.ClementsinLondon,andhowyoucamehere.”
“Howlong?”sherepeated.“IstayedwithMrs.Clementstillwebothcametothisplace,twodaysago.”
“Youarelivinginthevillage,then?”Isaid.“ItisstrangeIshouldnothaveheardofyou,thoughyouhaveonlybeenheretwodays.”
“No,no,notinthevillage.Threemilesawayatafarm.Doyouknowthefarm?TheycallitTodd’sCorner.”
Irememberedtheplaceperfectly—wehadoftenpassedbyitinourdrives.
Itwasoneoftheoldestfarmsintheneighbourhood,situatedinasolitary,shelteredspot,inlandatthejunctionoftwohills.
“TheyarerelationsofMrs.ClementsatTodd’sCorner,”shewenton,“andtheyhadoftenaskedhertogoandseethem.
Shesaidshewouldgo,andtakemewithher,forthequietandthefreshair.Itwasverykind,wasitnot?
Iwouldhavegoneanywheretobequiet,andsafe,andoutoftheway.
ButwhenIheardthatTodd’sCornerwasnearLimmeridge—oh!
IwassohappyIwouldhavewalkedallthewaybarefoottogetthere,andseetheschoolsandthevillageandLimmeridgeHouseagain.
TheyareverygoodpeopleatTodd’sCorner.IhopeIshallstaytherealongtime.
ThereisonlyonethingIdon’tlikeaboutthem,anddon’tlikeaboutMrs.Clements——”
“Whatisit?”
“Theywillteasemeaboutdressingallinwhite—theysayitlookssoparticular.Howdotheyknow?Mrs.Fairlieknewbest.
Mrs.Fairliewouldneverhavemademewearthisuglybluecloak!Ah!
shewasfondofwhiteinherlifetime,andhereiswhitestoneabouthergrave—andIammakingitwhiterforhersake.
Sheoftenworewhiteherself,andshealwaysdressedherlittledaughterinwhite.IsMissFairliewellandhappy?
Doesshewearwhitenow,assheusedwhenshewasagirl?”
HervoicesankwhensheputthequestionsaboutMissFairlie,andsheturnedherheadfartherandfartherawayfromme.
IthoughtIdetected,inthealterationofhermanner,anuneasyconsciousnessoftheriskshehadruninsendingtheanonymousletter,andIinstantlydeterminedsotoframemyanswerastosurpriseherintoowningit.
“MissFairliewasnotverywellorveryhappythismorning,”Isaid.
Shemurmuredafewwords,buttheywerespokensoconfusedly,andinsuchalowtone,thatIcouldnotevenguessatwhattheymeant.
“DidyouaskmewhyMissFairliewasneitherwellnorhappythismorning?”Icontinued.
“No,”shesaidquicklyandeagerly—“ohno,Ineveraskedthat.”
“Iwilltellyouwithoutyourasking,”Iwenton.“MissFairliehasreceivedyourletter.”
Shehadbeendownonherkneesforsomelittletimepast,carefullyremovingthelastweather-stainsleftabouttheinscriptionwhilewewerespeakingtogether.
ThefirstsentenceofthewordsIhadjustaddressedtohermadeherpauseinheroccupation,andturnslowlywithoutrisingfromherknees,soastofaceme.
Thesecondsentenceliterallypetrifiedher.
Theclothshehadbeenholdingdroppedfromherhands—herlipsfellapart—allthelittlecolourthattherewasnaturallyinherfaceleftitinaninstant.
“Howdoyouknow?”shesaidfaintly.“Whoshowedittoyou?”
Thebloodrushedbackintoherface—rushedoverwhelmingly,asthesenserusheduponhermindthatherownwordshadbetrayedher.
Shestruckherhandstogetherindespair.
“Ineverwroteit,”shegaspedaffrightedly;“Iknownothingaboutit!”
“Yes,”Isaid,“youwroteit,andyouknowaboutit.
Itwaswrongtosendsuchaletter,itwaswrongtofrightenMissFairlie.
Ifyouhadanythingtosaythatitwasrightandnecessaryforhertohear,youshouldhavegoneyourselftoLimmeridgeHouse—youshouldhavespokentotheyoungladywithyourownlips.”
Shecroucheddownovertheflatstoneofthegrave,tillherfacewashiddenonit,andmadenoreply.
“MissFairliewillbeasgoodandkindtoyouashermotherwas,ifyoumeanwell,”Iwenton.
“MissFairliewillkeepyoursecret,andnotletyoucometoanyharm.
Willyouseeherto-morrowatthefarm?
WillyoumeetherinthegardenatLimmeridgeHouse?”
“Oh,ifIcoulddie,andbehiddenandatrestwithYOU!”
Herlipsmurmuredthewordscloseonthegrave-stone,murmuredthemintonesofpassionateendearment,tothedeadremainsbeneath.
“YouknowhowIloveyourchild,foryoursake!Oh,Mrs.Fairlie!Mrs.Fairlie!tellmehowtosaveher.
Bemydarlingandmymotheroncemore,andtellmewhattodoforthebest.”
Iheardherlipskissingthestone—Isawherhandsbeatingonitpassionately.
Thesoundandthesightdeeplyaffectedme.
Istoopeddown,andtookthepoorhelplesshandstenderlyinmine,andtriedtosootheher.
Itwasuseless.Shesnatchedherhandsfromme,andnevermovedherfacefromthestone.
Seeingtheurgentnecessityofquietingheratanyhazardandbyanymeans,Iappealedtotheonlyanxietythatsheappearedtofeel,inconnectionwithmeandwithmyopinionofher—theanxietytoconvincemeofherfitnesstobemistressofherownactions.
“Come,come,”Isaidgently.“Trytocomposeyourself,oryouwillmakemealtermyopinionofyou.Don’tletmethinkthatthepersonwhoputyouintheAsylummighthavehadsomeexcuse——”
Thenextwordsdiedawayonmylips.TheinstantIriskedthatchancereferencetothepersonwhohadputherintheAsylumshespranguponherknees.
Amostextraordinaryandstartlingchangepassedoverher.
Herface,atallordinarytimessotouchingtolookat,initsnervoussensitiveness,weakness,anduncertainty,becamesuddenlydarkenedbyanexpressionofmaniacallyintensehatredandfear,whichcommunicatedawild,unnaturalforcetoeveryfeature.
Hereyesdilatedinthedimeveninglight,liketheeyesofawildanimal.
Shecaughtupthecloththathadfallenatherside,asifithadbeenalivingcreaturethatshecouldkill,andcrusheditinbothherhandswithsuchconvulsivestrength,thatthefewdropsofmoistureleftinittrickleddownonthestonebeneathher.
“Talkofsomethingelse,”shesaid,whisperingthroughherteeth.“Ishalllosemyselfifyoutalkofthat.”
Everyvestigeofthegentlerthoughtswhichhadfilledhermindhardlyaminutesinceseemedtobesweptfromitnow.
ItwasevidentthattheimpressionleftbyMrs.Fairlie’skindnesswasnot,asIhadsupposed,theonlystrongimpressiononhermemory.
Withthegratefulremembranceofherschool-daysatLimmeridge,thereexistedthevindictiveremembranceofthewronginflictedonherbyherconfinementintheAsylum.Whohaddonethatwrong?Coulditreallybehermother?
Itwashardtogiveuppursuingtheinquirytothatfinalpoint,butIforcedmyselftoabandonallideaofcontinuingit.
SeeingherasIsawhernow,itwouldhavebeencrueltothinkofanythingbutthenecessityandthehumanityofrestoringhercomposure.
“Iwilltalkofnothingtodistressyou,”Isaidsoothingly.
“Youwantsomething,”sheansweredsharplyandsuspiciously.“Don’tlookatmelikethat.Speaktome—tellmewhatyouwant.”
“Ionlywantyoutoquietyourself,andwhenyouarecalmer,tothinkoverwhatIhavesaid.”
“Said?”Shepaused—twistedtheclothinherhands,back-wardsandforwards,andwhisperedtoherself,“Whatisithesaid?”
Sheturnedagaintowardsme,andshookherheadimpatiently.“Whydon’tyouhelpme?”sheasked,withangrysuddenness.
“Yes,yes,”Isaid,“Iwillhelpyou,andyouwillsoonremember.IaskyoutoseeMissFairlieto-morrowandtotellherthetruthabouttheletter.”
“Ah!MissFairlie—Fairlie—Fairlie——”
Themereutteranceofthelovedfamiliarnameseemedtoquiether.Herfacesoftenedandgrewlikeitselfagain.
“YouneedhavenofearofMissFairlie,”Icontinued,“andnofearofgettingintotroublethroughtheletter.
Sheknowssomuchaboutitalready,thatyouwillhavenodifficultyintellingherall.
Therecanbelittlenecessityforconcealmentwherethereishardlyanythinglefttoconceal.
Youmentionnonamesintheletter;butMissFairlieknowsthatthepersonyouwriteofisSirPercivalGlyde——”
TheinstantIpronouncedthatnameshestartedtoherfeet,andascreamburstfromherthatrangthroughthechurchyard,andmademyheartleapinmewiththeterrorofit.
Thedarkdeformityoftheexpressionwhichhadjustleftherfaceloweredonitoncemore,withdoubledandtrebledintensity.
Theshriekatthename,thereiteratedlookofhatredandfearthatinstantlyfollowed,toldall.Notevenalastdoubtnowremained.
HermotherwasguiltlessofimprisoningherintheAsylum.
Amanhadshutherup—andthatmanwasSirPercivalGlyde.
Thescreamhadreachedotherearsthanmine.
OnonesideIheardthedoorofthesexton’scottageopen;ontheotherIheardthevoiceofhercompanion,thewomanintheshawl,thewomanwhomshehadspokenofasMrs.Clements.
“I’mcoming!I’mcoming!”criedthevoicefrombehindtheclumpofdwarftrees.
InamomentmoreMrs.Clementshurriedintoview.
“Whoareyou?”shecried,facingmeresolutelyasshesetherfootonthestile.“Howdareyoufrightenapoorhelplesswomanlikethat?”
ShewasatAnneCatherick’sside,andhadputonearmaroundher,beforeIcouldanswer.“Whatisit,mydear?”shesaid.“Whathashedonetoyou?”
“Nothing,”thepoorcreatureanswered.“Nothing.I’monlyfrightened.”
Mrs.Clementsturnedonmewithafearlessindignation,forwhichIrespectedher.
“IshouldbeheartilyashamedofmyselfifIdeservedthatangrylook,”Isaid.“ButIdonotdeserveit.
Ihaveunfortunatelystartledherwithoutintendingit.
Thisisnotthefirsttimeshehasseenme.
Askheryourself,andshewilltellyouthatIamincapableofwillinglyharmingheroranywoman.”
Ispokedistinctly,sothatAnneCatherickmighthearandunderstandme,andIsawthatthewordsandtheirmeaninghadreachedher.
“Yes,yes,”shesaid—“hewasgoodtomeonce—hehelpedme——”Shewhisperedtherestintoherfriend’sear.
“Strange,indeed!”saidMrs.Clements,withalookofperplexity.“Itmakesallthedifference,though.
I’msorryIspokesoroughtoyou,sir;butyoumustownthatappearanceslookedsuspicioustoastranger.
It’smoremyfaultthanyours,forhumouringherwhims,andlettingherbealoneinsuchaplaceasthis.Come,mydear—comehomenow.”
Ithoughtthegoodwomanlookedalittleuneasyattheprospectofthewalkback,andIofferedtogowiththemuntiltheywerebothwithinsightofhome.
Mrs.Clementsthankedmecivilly,anddeclined.
Shesaidtheyweresuretomeetsomeofthefarm-labourersassoonastheygottothemoor.
“Trytoforgiveme,”Isaid,whenAnneCathericktookherfriend’sarmtogoaway.
InnocentasIhadbeenofanyintentiontoterrifyandagitateher,myheartsmotemeasIlookedatthepoor,pale,frightenedface.
“Iwilltry,”sheanswered.“Butyouknowtoomuch—I’mafraidyou’llalwaysfrightenmenow.”
Mrs.Clementsglancedatme,andshookherheadpityingly.
“Good-night,sir,”shesaid.“Youcouldn’thelpit,IknowbutIwishitwasmeyouhadfrightened,andnother.”
Theymovedawayafewsteps.Ithoughttheyhadleftme,butAnnesuddenlystopped,andseparatedherselffromherfriend.
“Waitalittle,”shesaid.“Imustsaygood-bye.”
Shereturnedtothegrave,restedbothhandstenderlyonthemarblecross,andkissedit.
“I’mbetternow,”shesighed,lookingupatmequietly.“Iforgiveyou.”
Shejoinedhercompanionagain,andtheylefttheburial-ground.
Isawthemstopnearthechurchandspeaktothesexton’swife,whohadcomefromthecottage,andhadwaited,watchingusfromadistance.
Thentheywentonagainupthepaththatledtothemoor.
IlookedafterAnneCatherickasshedisappeared,tillalltraceofherhadfadedinthetwilight—lookedasanxiouslyandsorrowfullyasifthatwasthelastIwastoseeinthiswearyworldofthewomaninwhite.
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