Hisfacewassuddenlylivid,hiseyesfulloffierceanger。Hislipstwitched。Hestruckthetablebeforehim。
“Beastofawoman!“heshouted。“Youghoul!Howdareyou!Howdareyou-“
Hestoppedshort。Hepassedhishandacrosshisforehead。Allthetimethewomanremainedunmoved。
“Doyouknow,“hemuttered,hisvoicestillshakingalittle,“thatIbelievesometimesIamafraidofyou?Howwouldyouliketoseemethere,eh,downatthebottomofthathungrysea?Youwatchsometimessofixedly。You’dmissme,wouldn’tyou?Iamagoodmaster,youknow。Ipaywell。You’vebeenwithmeagoodmanyyears。Youwereadifferentsortofwomanwhenyoufirstcame。“
“Yes,“sheadmitted,“Iwasadifferentsortofwoman。“
“Youdon’trememberthosedays,Isuppose,“hewenton,“thedayswhenyouhadbrownhair,whenyouusedtocarryrosesaboutandsingtoyourselfwhileyoubeatyourworkoutofthatwretchedtypewriter?“
“No,“sheanswered,“Idonotrememberthosedays。Theydonotbelongtome。Itissomeotherwomanyouarethinkingof。“
Theireyesmet。Mr。Fentolinturnedawayfirst。Hestruckthebellathiselbow。Sheroseatonce。
“Beoff!“heordered。“Whenyoulookatmelikethat,yousendshiversthroughme!You’llhavetogo;Icanseeyou’llhavetogo。
Ican’tkeepyouanylonger。Youaretheonlypersononthefaceoftheearthwhodarestosaythingstomewhichmakemethink,theonlypersonwhodoesn’tshrinkatthesoundofmyvoice。You’llhavetogo。SendSarsontomeatonce。You’veupsetme!“
Shelistenedtohiswordsinexpressionlesssilence。Whenhehadfinished,carryingherbookinherhand,sheveryquietlymovedtowardsthedoor。Hewatchedher,leaningalittleforwardinhischair,hislipsparted,hiseyesthreatening。Shewalkedwithsteady,evenfootsteps。Shecarriedherselfwithalmostmachine-likeerectness;herskirtswerenoiseless。Shehadthetrickofturningthehandleofthedoorinperfectsilence。Heheardhercalmvoiceinthehall。
“DoctorSarsonistogotoMr。Fentolin。“
Mr。Fentolinsatquitestill,feelinghisownpulse。
“Thatwoman,“hemutteredtohimself,“that-woman-somedayI
shouldn’tbesurprisedifshereally-“
Hepaused。Thedoctorhadenteredtheroom。
“Iamupset,Sarson,“hedeclared。“Comeandfeelmypulsequickly。
Thatwomanhasupsetme。“
“MissPrice?“
“MissPrice,d-nit!Lucy-yes!“
“Itseemsunlikeher,“thedoctorremarked。“Ihaveneverheardherutterauselesssyllableinmylife。“
Mr。Fentolinheldouthiswrist。
“It’swhatshedoesn’tsay,“hemuttered。
Thedoctorproducedhiswatch。Inlessthanaminuteheputitaway。
“Thisisquiteunnecessary,“hepronounced。“Yourpulseiswonderful。“
“Nothurried?Nosignsofpalpitation?“
“Youhavesevenoreightfootmen,allyoungmen,“DoctorSarsonreplieddrily。“Iwillwagerthatthereisn’toneofthemhasapulsesovigorousasyours。“
Mr。Fentolinleanedalittlebackinhischair。Anexpressionofsatisfactioncreptoverhisface。
“Youreassureme,mydearSarson。Thatisexcellent。Whatofourpatient?“
“Thereisnochange。“
“Iamafraid,“Mr。Fentolinsighed,“thatweshallhavetroublewithhim。Thesestrongpeoplealwaysgivetrouble。“
“Itwillbejustthesameinthelongrun,“thedoctorremarked,shrugginghisshoulders。
Mr。Fentolinhelduphisfinger。
“Listen!Amotor-car,Ibelieve?“
“ItisMissFentolinwhoisjustarriving,“thedoctorannounced。
“IsawthecarcomingasIcrossedthehall。“
Mr。Fentolinnoddedgently。
“Indeed?“hereplied。“Indeed?Somydearniecehasreturned。
Openthedoor,friendSarson。Openthedoor,ifyouplease。Shewillbeanxioustoseeme。Wemustsummonher。“
Mr。Fentolinraisedtohislipsthelittlegoldwhistlewhichhungfromhisneckandblewit。Heseemedtodevoteverylittleefforttotheoperation,yetthestrengthofthenotewaswonderful。Astheechoesdiedaway,heletitfallbyhissideandwaitedwithapleasedsmileuponhislips。Inafewsecondstherewasthehurriedflutterofskirtsandthesoundoffootsteps。Thegirlwhohadjustcompletedherrailwayjourneyentered,followedbyherbrother。Theywerebothalittleoutofbreath,theybothapproachedthechairwithoutasmile,thegirlinadvance,withacertainexpressionofapprehensioninhereyes。Mr。Fentolinsighed。
Heappearedtonoticethesethingsandregretthem。
“Mychild,“hesaid,holdingouthishands,“mydearEsther,welcomehomeagain!Iheardthecaroutside。Iamgrievedthatyoudidnotatoncehurrytomyside。“
“Ihavenotbeeninthehousetwominutes,“Estherreplied,“andI
haven’tseenmotheryet。Forgiveme。“
Shehadcometoastandstillafewyardsaway。Shemovednowveryslowlytowardsthechair,withtheairofonefulfillingahatefultask。Thefingerswhichacceptedhishandswereextendedalmosthesitatingly。Hedrewherclosertohimandheldherthere。
“Yourmother,mydearEsther,is,Iregrettosay,sufferingfromaslightindisposition,“heremarked。“Shehasbeenconfinedtoherroomforthelastfewdays。Justatriflingaffairofthenerves;nothingmore,DoctorSarsonassuresme。Butmydearchild,“
hewenton,“yourfingersareascoldasice。Youlookatmesostrangely,too。Alas!youhavenottheaffectionatedispositionofyourdearmother。Onewouldscarcelybelievethatwehavebeenpartedformorethanaweek。“
“Formorethanaweek,“sherepeated,underherbreath。
“Stoopdown,mydear。Imustkissyourforehead-there!Nowbringupachairtomyside。Youseemfrightened-alarmed。Haveyouillnewsforme?“
“Ihavenonews,“sheanswered,graduallyrecoveringherself。
“ThegaietiesofLondon,Ifear,“heprotestedgently,“haveprovedalittleunsettling。“
“Therewerenogaietiesforme,“thegirlrepliedbitterly。“Mrs。
Sargentobeyedyourordersveryfaithfully。Iwasnotallowedtomoveoutexceptwithher。“
“Mydearchild,youwouldnotgoaboutLondonunchaperoned!“
“Thereisadifference,“sheretorted,“betweenachaperonandajailer。“
Mr。Fentolinsighed。Heshookhisheadslowly。Heseemedpained。
“Iamnotsurethatyourepaymycareasitdeserves,Esther,“hedeclared。“Thereissomethinginyourdeportmentwhichdisappointsme。Nevermind,yourbrotherhasmadesomeatonement。IentrustedhimwithalittlemissioninwhichIamgladtosaythathehasbeenbrilliantlysuccessful。“
“IcannotsaythatIamgladtohearit,“Estherrepliedquietly。
Mr。Fentolinsatbackinhischair。Hislongfingersplayednervouslytogether,helookedathergravely。
“Mydearchild,“heexclaimed,inatoneofpainedsurprise,“yourattitudedistressesme!“
“Icannothelpit。IhavetoldyouwhatIthinkaboutGeraldandthelifeheiscompelledtolivehere。Idon’tmindsomuchformyself,butforhimIthinkitisabominable。“
“Thesameasever,“Mr。Fentolinsighed。“Ifearthatthislittlechangehasdoneyounogood,dearniece。
“Change!“sheechoed。“Itwasonlyachangeofprisons。“
Mr。Fentolinshookhisheadslowly-adistressfulgesture。Yetallthetimehehadsomehowtheairofamansecretlygratified。
“Youarebeginningtodepressme,“heannounced。“Ithinkthatyoucangoaway。No,stopforjustonemoment。Standthereinthelight。Dearme,howunfortunate!Whowouldhavethoughtthatsobeautifulamothercouldhavesoplainadaughter!“
Shestoodquitestillbeforehim,herhandscrossedinfrontofher,somethingofthelookofthenunfromwhomthepowerofsufferinghasgoneinherstill,coldfaceandsteadfasteyes。
“Notatouchofcolour,“hecontinuedmeditatively,“afigurestraightasmywalking-stick。Whatapity!Andallthetaste,nowadays,theytellme,isintheotherdirection。Thelankdamselshavegonecompletelyout。WeburiedthemwithOscarWilde。