the lifted veil-第11节

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Archer　would　not　survive　through　the　night；　and　endeavoured　to
persuade　her　to　leave　the　patient　and　take　a　night's　rest。　　But　she
was　obstinate；　suspecting　the　fact　that　death　was　at　hand；　and
supposing　that　he　wished　merely　to　save　her　nerves。　　She　refused　to
leave　the　sick…room。　　Meunier　and　I　sat　up　together　in　the　library；
he　making　frequent　visits　to　the　sick…room；　and　returning　with　the
information　that　the　case　was　taking　precisely　the　course　he
expected。　　Once　he　said　to　me；　〃Can　you　imagine　any　cause　of　ill…
feeling　this　woman　has　against　her　mistress；　who　is　so　devoted　to
her？〃

〃I　think　there　was　some　misunderstanding　between　them　before　her
illness。　　Why　do　you　ask？〃

〃Because　I　have　observed　for　the　last　five　or　six　hourssince；　I
fancy；　she　has　lost　all　hope　of　recoverythere　seems　a　strange
prompting　in　her　to　say　something　which　pain　and　failing　strength
forbid　her　to　utter；　and　there　is　a　look　of　hideous　meaning　in　her
eyes；　which　she　turns　continually　towards　her　mistress。　　In　this
disease　the　mind　often　remains　singularly　clear　to　the　last。〃

〃I　am　not　surprised　at　an　indication　of　malevolent　feeling　in　her；〃
I　said。　　〃She　is　a　woman　who　has　always　inspired　me　with　distrust
and　dislike；　but　she　managed　to　insinuate　herself　into　her
mistress's　favour。〃　　He　was　silent　after　this；　looking　at　the　fire
with　an　air　of　absorption；　till　he　went　upstairs　again。　　He　stayed
away　longer　than　usual；　and　on　returning；　said　to　me　quietly；　〃Come
now。〃

I　followed　him　to　the　chamber　where　death　was　hovering。　　The　dark
hangings　of　the　large　bed　made　a　background　that　gave　a　strong
relief　to　Bertha's　pale　face　as　I　entered。　　She　started　forward　as
she　saw　me　enter；　and　then　looked　at　Meunier　with　an　expression　of
angry　inquiry；　but　he　lifted　up　his　hand　as　it　to　impose　silence；
while　he　fixed　his　glance　on　the　dying　woman　and　felt　her　pulse。
The　face　was　pinched　and　ghastly；　a　cold　perspiration　was　on　the
forehead；　and　the　eyelids　were　lowered　so　as　to　conceal　the　large
dark　eyes。　　After　a　minute　or　two；　Meunier　walked　round　to　the
other　side　of　the　bed　where　Bertha　stood；　and　with　his　usual　air　of
gentle　politeness　towards　her　begged　her　to　leave　the　patient　under
our　careeverything　should　be　done　for　hershe　was　no　longer　in　a
state　to　be　conscious　of　an　affectionate　presence。　　Bertha　was
hesitating；　apparently　almost　willing　to　believe　his　assurance　and
to　comply。　　She　looked　round　at　the　ghastly　dying　face；　as　if　to
read　the　confirmation　of　that　assurance；　when　for　a　moment　the
lowered　eyelids　were　raised　again；　and　it　seemed　as　if　the　eyes
were　looking　towards　Bertha；　but　blankly。　　A　shudder　passed　through
Bertha's　frame；　and　she　returned　to　her　station　near　the　pillow；
tacitly　implying　that　she　would　not　leave　the　room。

The　eyelids　were　lifted　no　more。　　Once　I　looked　at　Bertha　as　she
watched　the　face　of　the　dying　one。　　She　wore　a　rich　peignoir；　and
her　blond　hair　was　half　covered　by　a　lace　cap：　　in　her　attire　she
was；　as　always；　an　elegant　woman；　fit　to　figure　in　a　picture　of
modern　aristocratic　life：　　but　I　asked　myself　how　that　face　of　hers
could　ever　have　seemed　to　me　the　face　of　a　woman　born　of　woman；
with　memories　of　childhood；　capable　of　pain；　needing　to　be　fondled？
The　features　at　that　moment　seemed　so　preternaturally　sharp；　the
eyes　were　so　hard　and　eagershe　looked　like　a　cruel　immortal；
finding　her　spiritual　feast　in　the　agonies　of　a　dying　race。　　For
across　those　hard　features　there　came　something　like　a　flash　when
the　last　hour　had　been　breathed　out；　and　we　all　felt　that　the　dark
veil　had　completely　fallen。　　What　secret　was　there　between　Bertha
and　this　woman？　　I　turned　my　eyes　from　her　with　a　horrible　dread
lest　my　insight　should　return；　and　I　should　be　obliged　to　see　what
had　been　breeding　about　two　unloving　women's　hearts。　　I　felt　that
Bertha　had　been　watching　for　the　moment　of　death　as　the　sealing　of
her　secret：　　I　thanked　Heaven　it　could　remain　sealed　for　me。

Meunier　said　quietly；　〃She　is　gone。〃　　He　then　gave　his　arm　to
Bertha；　and　she　submitted　to　be　led　out　of　the　room。

I　suppose　it　was　at　her　order　that　two　female　attendants　came　into
the　room；　and　dismissed　the　younger　one　who　had　been　present
before。　　When　they　entered；　Meunier　had　already　opened　the　artery
in　the　long　thin　neck　that　lay　rigid　on　the　pillow；　and　I　dismissed
them；　ordering　them　to　remain　at　a　distance　till　we　rang：　　the
doctor；　I　said；　had　an　operation　to　performhe　was　not　sure　about
the　death。　　For　the　next　twenty　minutes　I　forgot　everything　but
Meunier　and　the　experiment　in　which　he　was　so　absorbed；　that　I
think　his　senses　would　have　been　closed　against　all　sounds　or
sights　which　had　no　relation　to　it。　　It　was　my　task　at　first　to
keep　up　the　artificial　respiration　in　the　body　after　the
transfusion　had　been　effected；　but　presently　Meunier　relieved　me；
and　I　could　see　the　wondrous　slow　return　of　life；　the　breast　began
to　heave；　the　inspirations　became　stronger；　the　eyelids　quivered；
and　the　soul　seemed　to　have　returned　beneath　them。　　The　artificial
respiration　was　withdrawn：　　still　the　breathing　continued；　and
there　was　a　movement　of　the　lips。

Just　then　I　heard　the　handle　of　the　door　moving：　　I　suppose　Bertha
had　heard　from　the　women　that　they　had　been　dismissed：　　probably　a
vague　fear　had　arisen　in　her　mind；　for　she　entered　with　a　look　of
alarm。　　She　came　to　the　foot　of　the　bed　and　gave　a　stifled　cry。

The　dead　woman's　eyes　were　wide　open；　and　met　hers　in　full
recognitionthe　recognition　of　hate。　　With　a　sudden　strong　effort；
the　hand　that　Bertha　had　thought　for　ever　still　was　pointed　towards
her；　and　the　haggard　face　moved。　　The　gasping　eager　voice　said

〃You　mean　to　poison　your　husband　。　。　。　the　poison　is　in　the　black
cabinet　。　。　。　I　got　it　for　you　。　。　。　you　laughed　at　me；　and　told
lies　about　me　behind　my　back；　to　make　me　disgusting　。　。　。　because
you　were　jealous　。　。　。　are　you　sorry　。　。　。　now？〃

The　lips　continued　to　murmur；　but　the　sounds　were　no　longer
distinct。　　Soon　there　was　no　soundonly　a　slight　movement：　　the
flame　had　leaped　out；　and　was　being　extinguished　the　faster。　　The
wretched　woman's　heart…strings　had　been　set　to　hatred　and
vengeance；　the　spirit　of　life　had　swept　the　chords　for　an　instant；
and　was　gone　again　for　ever。　　Great　God！　　Is　this　what　it　is　to
live　again　。　。　。　to　wake　up　with　our　unstilled　thirst　upon　us；　with
our　unuttered　curses　rising　to　our　lips；　with　our　muscles　ready　to
act　out　their　half…committed　sins？

Bertha　stood　pale　at　the　foot　of　the　bed；　quivering　and　helpless；
despairing　of　devices；　like　a　cunning　animal　whose　hiding…places
are　surrounded　by　swift…advancing　flame。　　Even　Meunier　looked
paralysed；　life　for　that　moment　ceased　to　be　a　scientific　problem
to　him。　　As　for　me；　this　scene　seemed　of　one　texture　with　the　rest
of　my　existence：　　horror　was　my　familiar；　and　this　new　revelation
was　only　like　an　old　pain　recurring　with　new　circumstances。

*　*　*

Since　then　Bertha　and　I　have　lived　apartshe　in　her　own
neighbourhood；　the　mistress　of　half　our　wealth；　I　as　a　wanderer　in
foreign　countries；　until　I　came　to　this　Devonshire　nest　to　die。
Bertha　lives　pitied　and　admired；　for　what　had　I　against　that
charming　woman；　whom　every　one　but　myself　could　have　been　happy
with？　　There　had　been　no　witness　of　the　scene　in　the　dying　room
except　Meunier；　and　while　Meunier　lived　his　lips　were　sealed　by　a
promise　to　me。

Once　or　twice；　weary　of　wandering；　I　rested　in　a　favourite　spot；
and　my　heart　went　out　towards　the　men　and　women　and　children　whose
faces　were　becoming　familiar　to　me；　but　I　was　driven　away　again　in
terror　at　the　approach　of　my　old　insightdriven　away　to　live
continually　with　the　one　Unknown　Presence　revealed　and　yet　hidden
by　the　moving　curtain　of　the　earth　and　sky。　　Till　at　last　disease
took　hold　of　me　and　forced　me　to　rest　hereforced　me　to　live　in
dependence　on　my　servants。　　And　then　the　curse　of　insightof　my
double　consciousness；　came　again；　and　has　never　left　me。　　I　know
all　their　narrow　thoughts；　their　feeble　regard；　their　half…wearied
pity。

*　*　*

It　is　the　20th　of　September；　1850。　　I　know　these　figures　I　have
just　written；　as　if　they　were　a　long　familiar　inscription。　　I　have
seen　them　on　this　pace　in　my　desk　unnumbered　times；　when　the　scene
of　my　dying　struggle　has　opened　upon　me　。　。　。

（1859）





End