the queen of hearts-第26节
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Before he could answer she passed him and left the room。 He saw
her walk away up the street。
Would she return？
All that night he watched and waited； but no footstep came near
the house。 The next night； overpowered by fatigue； he lay down in
bed in his clothes； with the door locked； the key on the table；
and the candle burning。 His slumber was not disturbed。 The third
night； the fourth； the fifth； the sixth passed； and nothing
happened。
He lay down on the seventh； still in his clothes； still with the
door locked； the key on the table； and the candle burning； but
easier in his mind。
Easier in his mind； and in perfect health of body when he fell
off to sleep。 But his rest was disturbed。 He woke twice without
any sensation of uneasiness。 But the third time it was that
never…to…be…forgotten shivering of the night at the lonely inn；
that dreadful sinking pain at the heart； which once more aroused
him in an instant。
His eyes opened toward the left…hand side of the bed； and there
stoodThe Dream…Woman again？ No！ His wife； the living reality；
with the dream…specter's face； in the dream…specter's attitude；
the fair arm up； the knife clasped in the delicate white hand。
He sprang upon her almost at the instant of seeing her； and yet
not quickly enough to prevent her from hiding the knife。 Without
a word from himwithout a cry from herhe pinioned her in a
chair。 With one hand he felt up her sleeve； and there； where the
Dream…Woman had hidden the knife； his wife had hidden itthe
knife with the buckhorn handle； that looked like new。
In the despair of that fearful moment his brain was steady； his
heart was calm。 He looked at her fixedly with the knife in his
hand； and said these last words：
〃You told me we should see each other no more； and you have come
back。 It is my turn now to go； and to go forever。 I say that we
shall see each other no more； and my word shall not be broken。〃
He left her； and set forth into the night。 There was a bleak wind
abroad； and the smell of recent rain was in the air。 The distant
church…clocks chimed the quarter as he walked rapidly beyond the
last houses in the suburb。 He asked the first policeman he met
what hour that was of which the quarter past had just struck。
The man referred sleepily to his watch； and answered； 〃Two
o'clock。〃 Two in the morning。 What day of the month was this day
that had just begun？ He reckoned it up from the date of his
mother's funeral。 The fatal parallel was complete： it was his
birthday！
Had he escaped the mortal peril which his dream foretold？ or had
he only received a second warning？
As that ominous doubt forced itself on his mind； he stopped；
reflected； and turned back again toward the city。 He was still
resolute to hold to his word； and never to let her see him more；
but there was a thought now in his mind of having her watched and
followed。 The knife was in his possession； the world was b efore
him； but a new distrust of hera vague； unspeakable；
superstitious dread had overcome him。
〃I must know where she goes； now she thinks I have left her；〃 he
said to himself； as he stole back wearily to the precincts of his
house。
It was still dark。 He had left the candle burning in the
bedchamber； but when he looked up to the window of the room now
there was no light in it。 He crept cautiously to the house door。
On going away； he remembered to have closed it； on trying it now；
he found it open。
He waited outside； never losing sight of the house； till
daylight。 Then he ventured indoorslistened； and heard
nothinglooked into kitchen； scullery； parlor and found nothing；
went up at last into the bedroomit was empty。 A picklock lay on
the floor betraying how she had gained entrance in the night； and
that was the only trace of her。
Whither had she gone？ That no mortal tongue could tell him。 The
darkness had covered her flight； and when the day broke； no man
could say where the light found her。
Before leaving the house and the town forever； he gave
instructions to a friend and neighbor to sell his furniture for
anything that it would fetch； and apply the proceeds to employing
the police to trace her。 The directions were honestly followed；
and the money was all spent； but the inquiries led to nothing。
The picklock on the bedroom floor remained the one last useless
trace of the Dream…Woman。
At this point of the narrative the landlord paused； and；
turning toward the window of the room in which we were sitting；
looked in the direction of the stable…yard。
〃So far；〃 he said； 〃I tell you what was told to me。 The little
that remains to be added lies within my own experience。 Between
two and three months after the events I have just been relating；
Isaac Scatchard came to me； withered and old…looking before his
time； just as you saw him to…day。 He had his testimonials to
character with him； and he asked for employment here。 Knowing
that my wife and he were distantly related； I gave him a trial in
consideration of that relationship； and liked him in spite of his
queer habits。 He is as sober； honest； and willing a man as there
is in England。 As for his restlessness at night； and his sleeping
away his leisure time in the day； who can wonder at it after
hearing his story？ Besides； he never objects to being roused up
when he's wanted； so there's not much inconvenience to complain
of； after all。〃
〃I suppose he is afraid of a return of that dreadful dream； and
of waking out of it in the dark？〃 said I。
〃No；〃 returned the landlord。 〃The dream comes back to him so
often that he has got to bear with it by this time resignedly
enough。 It's his wife keeps him waking at night as he has often
told me。〃
〃What！ Has she never been heard of yet？〃
〃Never。 Isaac himself has the one perpetual thought about her；
that she is alive and looking for him。 I believe he wouldn't let
himself drop off to sleep toward two in the morning for a king's
ransom。 Two in the morning； he says； is the time she will find
him； one of these days。 Two in the morning is the time all the
year round when he likes to be most certain that he has got that
clasp…knife safe about him。 He does not mind being alone as long
as he is awake； except on the night before his birthday； when he
firmly believes himself to be in peril of his life。 The birthday
has only come round once since he has been here； and then he sat
up along with the night…porter。 'She's looking for me；' is all he
says when anybody speaks to him about the one anxiety of his
life； 'she's looking for me。' He may be right。 She may be looking
for him。 Who can tell？〃
〃Who can tell？〃 said I。
THE FOURTH DAY。
THE sky once more cloudy and threatening。 No news of George。 I
corrected Morgan's second story to…day； numbered it Seven； and
added it to our stock。
Undeterred by the weather； Miss Jessie set off this morning on
the longest ride she had yet undertaken。 She had heardthrough
one of my brother's laborers； I believeof the actual existence；
in this nineteenth century； of no less a personage than a Welsh
Bard； who was to be found at a distant farmhouse far beyond the
limits of Owen's property。 The prospect of discovering this
remarkable relic of past times hurried her off； under the
guidance of her ragged groom； in a high state of excitement； to
see and hear the venerable man。 She was away the whole day； and
for the first time since her visit she kept us waiting more than
half an hour for dinner。 The moment we all sat down to table； she
informed us； to Morgan's great delight； that the bard was a rank
impostor。
〃Why； what did you expect to see？〃 I asked。
〃A Welsh patriarch； to be sure； with a long white beard； flowing
robes； and a harp to match；〃 answered Miss Jessie。
〃And what did you find？〃
〃A highly…respectable middle…aged rustic； a smiling；
smoothly…shaven； obliging man； dressed in a blue swallow…tailed
coat； with brass buttons； and exhibiting his bardic legs in a
pair of extremely stout。 and comfortable corduroy trousers。〃
〃But he sang old Welsh songs； surely？〃
〃Sang！ I'll tell you what he did。 He sat down on a Windsor chair；
without a harp； he put his hands in his pockets； cleared his
throat； looked up at the ceiling； and suddenly burst into a
series of the shrillest falsetto screeches I ever heard in my
life。 My own private opinion is that he was suffering from
hydrophobia。 I have lost all belief； henceforth and forever； in
bardsall belief in everything； in short； except your very
delightful stories and this remarkably good dinner。
Ending with that smart double fire of compliments to her hosts；
the Queen of Hearts honored us all three with a smile of
approval； and transferred her attention to her knife and fork。
The number drawn to…night was One。 On examination of the Purple
Volume； it proved to be my turn to read again。
〃Our story to…night；〃 I said； 〃contains the narrative of a very
remarkable adventure which really befell me when I was a young
man。 At the time of my life when these events happened I was
dabbling in literature when I ought to have been studying law；
and traveling on the Continent when I ought to have been keeping
my terms at Lincoln's Inn。 At the outset of the stor
