Pratt-Haldane was most amiable6, and listened with all politeness to my story. But when I looked at his heavy set features, his slow eyes, and the ponderous7 study furniture which surrounded him, I could hardly tell him what I had come to say. It was all so substantial, so material. And, besides, what would I myself have said a short month ago if one of my colleagues had come to me with a story of demonic possession? Perhaps. I should have been less patient than he was. As it was, he took notes of my statement, asked me how much tea I drank, how many hours I slept, whether I had been overworking much, had I had sudden pains in the head, evil dreams, singing in the ears, flashes before the eyes—all questions which pointed8 to his belief that brain congestion9 was at the bottom of my trouble. Finally he dismissed me with a great many platitudes10 about open-air exercise, and avoidance of nervous excitement. His prescription11, which was for chloral and bromide, I rolled up and threw into the gutter12.
No, I can look for no help from any human being. If I consult any more, they may put their heads together and I may find myself in an asylum13. I can but grip my courage with both hands, and pray that an honest man may not be abandoned.
April 10. It is the sweetest spring within the memory of man. So green, so mild, so beautiful! Ah, what a contrast between nature without and my own soul so torn with doubt and terror! It has been an uneventful day, but I know that I am on the edge of an abyss. I know it, and yet I go on with the routine of my life. The one bright spot is that Agatha is happy and well and out of all danger. If this creature had a hand on each of us, what might she not do?
April 16. The woman is ingenious in her torments14. She knows how fond I am of my work, and how highly my lectures are thought of. So it is from that point that she now attacks me. It will end, I can see, in my losing my professorship, but I will fight to the finish. She shall not drive me out of it without a struggle.
I was not conscious of any change during my lecture this morning save that for a minute or two I had a dizziness and swimminess which rapidly passed away. On the contrary, I congratulated myself upon having made my subject (the functions of the red corpuscles) both interesting and clear. I was surprised, therefore, when a student came into my laboratory immediately after the lecture, and complained of being puzzled by the discrepancy15 between my statements and those in the text books. He showed me his note-book, in which I was reported as having in one portion of the lecture championed the most outrageous16 and unscientific heresies18. Of course I denied it, and declared that he had misunderstood me, but on comparing his notes with those of his companions, it became clear that he was right, and that I really had made some most preposterous19 statements. Of course I shall explain it away as being the result of a moment of aberration20, but I feel only too sure that it will be the first of a series. It is but a month now to the end of the session, and I pray that I may be able to hold out until then.
April 26. Ten days have elapsed since I have had the heart to make any entry in my journal. Why should I record my own humiliation21 and degradation22? I had vowed23 never to open it again. And yet the force of habit is strong, and here I find myself taking up once more the record of my own dreadful experiences—in much the same spirit in which a suicide has been known to take notes of the effects of the poison which killed him.
Well, the crash which I had foreseen has come—and that no further back than yesterday. The university authorities have taken my lectureship from me. It has been done in the most delicate way, purporting24 to be a temporary measure to relieve me from the effects of overwork, and to give me the opportunity of recovering my health. None the less, it has been done, and I am no longer Professor Gilroy. The laboratory is still in my charge, but I have little doubt that that also will soon go.
The fact is that my lectures had become the laughing-stock of the university. My class was crowded with students who came to see and hear what the eccentric professor would do or say next. I cannot go into the detail of my humiliation. Oh, that devilish woman! There is no depth of buffoonery and imbecility to which she has not forced me. I would begin my lecture clearly and well, but always with the sense of a coming eclipse. Then as I felt the influence I would struggle against it, striving with clenched25 hands and beads26 of sweat upon my brow to get the better of it, while the students, hearing my incoherent words and watching my contortions27, would roar with laughter at the antics of their professor. And then, when she had once fairly mastered me, out would come the most outrageous things—silly jokes, sentiments as though I were proposing a toast, snatches of ballads28, personal abuse even against some member of my class. And then in a moment my brain would clear again, and my lecture would proceed decorously to the end. No wonder that my conduct has been the talk of the colleges. No wonder that the University Senate has been compelled to take official notice of such a scandal. Oh, that devilish woman!
And the most dreadful part of it all is my own loneliness. Here I sit in a commonplace English bow-window, looking out upon a commonplace English street with its garish29 ‘buses and its lounging policeman, and behind me there hangs a shadow which is out of all keeping with the age and place. In the home of knowledge I am weighed down and tortured by a power of which science knows nothing. No magistrate30 would listen to me. No paper would discuss my case. No doctor would believe my symptoms. My own most intimate friends would only look upon it as a sign of brain derangement31. I am out of all touch with my kind. Oh, that devilish woman! Let her have a care! She may push me too far. When the law cannot help a man, he may make a law for himself.
She met me in the High Street yesterday evening and spoke32 to me. It was as well for her, perhaps, that it was not between the hedges of a lonely country road. She asked me with her cold smile whether I had been chastened yet. I did not deign33 to answer her. “We must try another turn of the screw;” said she. Have a care, my lady, have a care! I had her at my mercy once. Perhaps another chance may come.
April 28. The suspension of my lectureship has had the effect also of taking away her means of annoying me, and so I have enjoyed two blessed days of peace. After all, there is no reason to despair. Sympathy pours in to me from all sides, and every one agrees that it is my devotion to science and the arduous34 nature of my researches which have shaken my nervous system. I have had the kindest message from the council advising me to travel abroad, and expressing the confident hope that I may be able to resume all my duties by the beginning of the summer term. Nothing could be more flattering than their allusions35 to my career and to my services to the university. It is only in misfortune that one can test one’s own popularity. This creature may weary of tormenting36 me, and then all may yet be well. May God grant it!
April 29. Our sleepy little town has had a small sensation. The only knowledge of crime which we ever have is when a rowdy undergraduate breaks a few lamps or comes to blows with a policeman. Last night, however, there was an attempt made to break-into the branch of the Bank of England, and we are all in a flutter in consequence.
Parkenson, the manager, is an intimate friend of mine, and I found him very much excited when I walked round there after breakfast. Had the thieves broken into the counting-house, they would still have had the safes to reckon with, so that the defence was considerably37 stronger than the attack. Indeed, the latter does not appear to have ever been very formidable. Two of the lower windows have marks as if a chisel39 or some such instrument had been pushed under them to force them open. The police should have a good clue, for the wood-work had been done with green paint only the day before, and from the smears40 it is evident that some of it has found its way on to the criminal’s hands or clothes.
4.30 P. M. Ah, that accursed woman! That thrice accursed woman! Never mind! She shall not beat me! No, she shall not! But, oh, the she-devil! She has taken my professorship. Now she would take my honor. Is there nothing I can do against her, nothing save—— Ah, but, hard pushed as I am, I cannot bring myself to think of that!
It was about an hour ago that I went into my bedroom, and was brushing my hair before the glass, when suddenly my eyes lit upon something which left me so sick and cold that I sat down upon the edge of the bed and began to cry. It is many a long year since I shed tears, but all my nerve was gone, and I could but sob41 and sob in impotent grief and anger. There was my house jacket, the coat I usually wear after dinner, hanging on its peg42 by the wardrobe, with the right sleeve thickly crusted from wrist to elbow with daubs of green paint.
So this was what she meant by another turn of the screw! She had made a public imbecile of me. Now she would brand me as a criminal. This time she has failed. But how about the next? I dare not think of it—and of Agatha and my poor old mother! I wish that I were dead!
Yes, this is the other turn of the screw. And this is also what she meant, no doubt, when she said that I had not realized yet the power she has over me. I look back at my account of my conversation with her, and I see how she declared that with a slight exertion43 of her will her subject would be conscious, and with a stronger one unconscious. Last night I was unconscious. I could have sworn that I slept soundly in my bed without so much as a dream. And yet those stains tell me that I dressed, made my way out, attempted to open the bank windows, and returned. Was I observed? Is it possible that some one saw me do it and followed me home? Ah, what a hell my life has become! I have no peace, no rest. But my patience is nearing its end.
10 P. M. I have cleaned my coat with turpentine. I do not think that any one could have seen me. It was with my screw-driver that I made the marks. I found it all crusted with paint, and I have cleaned it. My head aches as if it would burst, and I have taken five grains of antipyrine. If it were not for Agatha, I should have taken fifty and had an end of it.
May 3. Three quiet days. This hell fiend is like a cat with a mouse. She lets me loose only to pounce44 upon me again. I am never so frightened as when every thing is still. My physical state is deplorable—perpetual hiccough and ptosis of the left eyelid45.
I have heard from the Mardens that they will be back the day after to-morrow. I do not know whether I am glad or sorry. They were safe in London. Once here they may be drawn46 into the miserable47 network in which I am myself struggling. And I must tell them of it. I cannot marry Agatha so long as I know that I am not responsible for my own actions. Yes, I must tell them, even if it brings every thing to an end between us.
To-night is the university ball, and I must go. God knows I never felt less in the humor for festivity, but I must not have it said that I am unfit to appear in public. If I am seen there, and have speech with some of the elders of the university it will go a long way toward showing them that it would be unjust to take my chair away from me.
10 P. M. I have been to the ball. Charles Sadler and I went together, but I have come away before him. I shall wait up for him, however, for, indeed, I fear to go to sleep these nights. He is a cheery, practical fellow, and a chat with him will steady my nerves. On the whole, the evening was a great success. I talked to every one who has influence, and I think that I made them realize that my chair is not vacant quite yet. The creature was at the ball—unable to dance, of course, but sitting with Mrs. Wilson. Again and again her eyes rested upon me. They were almost the last things I saw before I left the room. Once, as I sat sideways to her, I watched her, and saw that her gaze was following some one else. It was Sadler, who was dancing at the time with the second Miss Thurston. To judge by her expression, it is well for him that he is not in her grip as I am. He does not know the escape he has had. I think I hear his step in the street now, and I will go down and let him in. If he will——
May 4. Why did I break off in this way last night? I never went down stairs, after all—at least, I have no recollection of doing so. But, on the other hand, I cannot remember going to bed. One of my hands is greatly swollen48 this morning, and yet I have no remembrance of injuring it yesterday. Otherwise, I am feeling all the better for last night’s festivity. But I cannot understand how it is that I did not meet Charles Sadler when I so fully49 intended to do so. Is it possible—— My God, it is only too probable! Has she been leading me some devil’s dance again? I will go down to Sadler and ask him.
Mid-day. The thing has come to a crisis. My life is not worth living. But, if I am to die, then she shall come also. I will not leave her behind, to drive some other man mad as she has me. No, I have come to the limit of my endurance. She has made me as desperate and dangerous a man as walks the earth. God knows I have never had the heart to hurt a fly, and yet, if I had my hands now upon that woman, she should never leave this room alive. I shall see her this very day, and she shall learn what she has to expect from me.
I went to Sadler and found him, to my surprise, in bed. As I entered he sat up and turned a face toward me which sickened me as I looked at it.
“Why, Sadler, what has happened?” I cried, but my heart turned cold as I said it.
“Gilroy,” he answered, mumbling50 with his swollen lips, “I have for some weeks been under the impression that you are a madman. Now I know it, and that you are a dangerous one as well. If it were not that I am unwilling51 to make a scandal in the college, you would now be in the hands of the police.”
“Do you mean——” I cried.
“I mean that as I opened the door last night you rushed out upon me, struck me with both your fists in the face, knocked me down, kicked me furiously in the side, and left me lying almost unconscious in the street. Look at your own hand bearing witness against you.”
Yes, there it was, puffed52 up, with sponge-like knuckles53, as after some terrific blow. What could I do? Though he put me down as a madman, I must tell him all. I sat by his bed and went over all my troubles from the beginning. I poured them out with quivering hands and burning words which might have carried conviction to the most sceptical. “She hates you and she hates me!” I cried. “She revenged herself last night on both of us at once. She saw me leave the ball, and she must have seen you also. She knew how long it would take you to reach home. Then she had but to use her wicked will. Ah, your bruised54 face is a small thing beside my bruised soul!”
He was struck by my story. That was evident. “Yes, yes, she watched me out of the room,” he muttered. “She is capable of it. But is it possible that she has really reduced you to this? What do you intend to do?”
“To stop it!” I cried. “I am perfectly55 desperate; I shall give her fair warning to-day, and the next time will be the last.”
“Do nothing rash,” said he.
“Rash!” I cried. “The only rash thing is that I should postpone56 it another hour.” With that I rushed to my room, and here I am on the eve of what may be the great crisis of my life. I shall start at once. I have gained one thing to-day, for I have made one man, at least, realize the truth of this monstrous57 experience of mine. And, if the worst should happen, this diary remains58 as a proof of the goad59 that has driven me.
Evening. When I came to Wilson’s, I was shown up, and found that he was sitting with Miss Penclosa. For half an hour I had to endure his fussy60 talk about his recent research into the exact nature of the spiritualistic rap, while the creature and I sat in silence looking across the room at each other. I read a sinister61 amusement in her eyes, and she must have seen hatred62 and menace in mine. I had almost despaired of having speech with her when he was called from the room, and we were left for a few moments together.
“Well, Professor Gilroy—or is it Mr. Gilroy?” said she, with that bitter smile of hers. “How is your friend Mr. Charles Sadler after the ball?”
“You fiend!” I cried. “You have come to the end of your tricks now. I will have no more of them. Listen to what I say.” I strode across and shook her roughly by the shoulder “As sure as there is a God in heaven, I swear that if you try another of your deviltries upon me I will have your life for it. Come what may, I will have your life. I have come to the end of what a man can endure.”
“Accounts are not quite settled between us,” said she, with a passion that equalled my own. “I can love, and I can hate. You had your choice. You chose to spurn63 the first; now you must test the other. It will take a little more to break your spirit, I see, but broken it shall be. Miss Marden comes back to-morrow, as I understand.”
“What has that to do with you?” I cried. “It is a pollution that you should dare even to think of her. If I thought that you would harm her——”
She was frightened, I could see, though she tried to brazen64 it out. She read the black thought in my mind, and cowered65 away from me.
“She is fortunate in having such a champion,” said she. “He actually dares to threaten a lonely woman. I must really congratulate Miss Marden upon her protector.”
The words were bitter, but the voice and manner were more acid still.
“There is no use talking,” said I. “I only came here to tell you,—and to tell you most solemnly,—that your next outrage17 upon me will be your last.” With that, as I heard Wilson’s step upon the stair, I walked from the room. Ay, she may look venomous and deadly, but, for all that, she is beginning to see now that she has as much to fear from me as I can have from her. Murder! It has an ugly sound. But you don’t talk of murdering a snake or of murdering a tiger. Let her have a care now.
May 5. I met Agatha and her mother at the station at eleven o’clock. She is looking so bright, so happy, so beautiful. And she was so overjoyed to see me. What have I done to deserve such love? I went back home with them, and we lunched together. All the troubles seem in a moment to have been shredded66 back from my life. She tells me that I am looking pale and worried and ill. The dear child puts it down to my loneliness and the perfunctory attentions of a housekeeper67. I pray that she may never know the truth! May the shadow, if shadow there must be, lie ever black across my life and leave hers in the sunshine. I have just come back from them, feeling a new man. With her by my side I think that I could show a bold face to any thing which life might send.
5 P. M. Now, let me try to be accurate. Let me try to say exactly how it occurred. It is fresh in my mind, and I can set it down correctly, though it is not likely that the time will ever come when I shall forget the doings of to-day.
I had returned from the Mardens’ after lunch, and was cutting some microscopic68 sections in my freezing microtome, when in an instant I lost consciousness in the sudden hateful fashion which has become only too familiar to me of late.
When my senses came back to me I was sitting in a small chamber69, very different from the one in which I had been working. It was cosey and bright, with chintz-covered settees, colored hangings, and a thousand pretty little trifles upon the wall. A small ornamental70 clock ticked in front of me, and the hands pointed to half-past three. It was all quite familiar to me, and yet I stared about for a moment in a half-dazed way until my eyes fell upon a cabinet photograph of myself upon the top of the piano. On the other side stood one of Mrs. Marden. Then, of course, I remembered where I was. It was Agatha’s boudoir.
But how came I there, and what did I want? A horrible sinking came to my heart. Had I been sent here on some devilish errand? Had that errand already been done? Surely it must; otherwise, why should I be allowed to come back to consciousness? Oh, the agony of that moment! What had I done? I sprang to my feet in my despair, and as I did so a small glass bottle fell from my knees on to the carpet.
It was unbroken, and I picked it up. Outside was written “Sulphuric Acid. Fort.” When I drew the round glass stopper, a thick fume71 rose slowly up, and a pungent72, choking smell pervaded73 the room. I recognized it as one which I kept for chemical testing in my chambers74. But why had I brought a bottle of vitriol into Agatha’s chamber? Was it not this thick, reeking75 liquid with which jealous women had been known to mar38 the beauty of their rivals? My heart stood still as I held the bottle to the light. Thank God, it was full! No mischief76 had been done as yet. But had Agatha come in a minute sooner, was it not certain that the hellish parasite77 within me would have dashed the stuff into her—— Ah, it will not bear to be thought of! But it must have been for that. Why else should I have brought it? At the thought of what I might have done my worn nerves broke down, and I sat shivering and twitching78, the pitiable wreck79 of a man.
It was the sound of Agatha’s voice and the rustle80 of her dress which restored me. I looked up, and saw her blue eyes, so full of tenderness and pity, gazing down at me.
“We must take you away to the country, Austin,” she said. “You want rest and quiet. You look wretchedly ill.”
“Oh, it is nothing!” said I, trying to smile. “It was only a momentary81 weakness. I am all right again now.”
“I am so sorry to keep you waiting. Poor boy, you must have been here quite half an hour! The vicar was in the drawing-room, and, as I knew that you did not care for him, I thought it better that Jane should show you up here. I thought the man would never go!”
“Thank God he stayed! Thank God he stayed!” I cried hysterically82.
“Why, what is the matter with you, Austin?” she asked, holding my arm as I staggered up from the chair. “Why are you glad that the vicar stayed? And what is this little bottle in your hand?”
“Nothing,” I cried, thrusting it into my pocket. “But I must go. I have something important to do.”
“How stern you look, Austin! I have never seen your face like that. You are angry?”
“Yes, I am angry.”
“But not with me?”
“No, no, my darling! You would not understand.”
“But you have not told me why you came.”
“I came to ask you whether you would always love me—no matter what I did, or what shadow might fall on my name. Would you believe in me and trust me however black appearances might be against me?”
“You know that I would, Austin.”
“Yes, I know that you would. What I do I shall do for you. I am driven to it. There is no other way out, my darling!” I kissed her and rushed from the room.
The time for indecision was at an end. As long as the creature threatened my own prospects83 and my honor there might be a question as to what I should do. But now, when Agatha—my innocent Agatha—was endangered, my duty lay before me like a turnpike road. I had no weapon, but I never paused for that. What weapon should I need, when I felt every muscle quivering with the strength of a frenzied84 man? I ran through the streets, so set upon what I had to do that I was only dimly conscious of the faces of friends whom I met—dimly conscious also that Professor Wilson met me, running with equal precipitance in the opposite direction. Breathless but resolute85 I reached the house and rang the bell. A white cheeked maid opened the door, and turned whiter yet when she saw the face that looked in at her.
“Show me up at once to Miss Penclosa,” I demanded.
“Sir,” she gasped86, “Miss Penclosa died this afternoon at half-past three!”
The End
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inflict
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| vt.(on)把…强加给，使遭受，使承担 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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perjured
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| adj.伪证的，犯伪证罪的v.发假誓，作伪证( perjure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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forfeited
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| （因违反协议、犯规、受罚等）丧失，失去( forfeit的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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congestion
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| n.阻塞，消化不良 | |
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platitudes
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| n.平常的话，老生常谈，陈词滥调( platitude的名词复数 )；滥套子 | |
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prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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gutter
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| n.沟，街沟，水槽，檐槽，贫民窟 | |
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asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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torments
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| （肉体或精神上的）折磨，痛苦( torment的名词复数 )； 造成痛苦的事物[人] | |
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discrepancy
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| n.不同；不符；差异；矛盾 | |
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outrageous
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outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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heresies
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preposterous
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| adj.荒谬的，可笑的 | |
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aberration
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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degradation
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| n.降级；低落；退化；陵削；降解；衰变 | |
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vowed
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purporting
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clenched
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beads
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contortions
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ballads
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garish
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magistrate
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derangement
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spoke
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deign
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arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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allusions
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| 暗指，间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
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tormenting
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| 使痛苦的，使苦恼的 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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chisel
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| n.凿子；v.用凿子刻，雕，凿 | |
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smears
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| 污迹( smear的名词复数 )； 污斑； （显微镜的）涂片； 诽谤 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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peg
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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pounce
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| n.猛扑；v.猛扑，突然袭击，欣然同意 | |
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eyelid
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| n.眼睑，眼皮 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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mumbling
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的现在分词 ) | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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postpone
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| v.延期，推迟 | |
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monstrous
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| adj.巨大的；恐怖的；可耻的，丢脸的 | |
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remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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goad
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| n.刺棒，刺痛物；激励；vt.激励，刺激 | |
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fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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spurn
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| v.拒绝，摈弃；n.轻视的拒绝；踢开 | |
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brazen
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| adj.厚脸皮的，无耻的，坚硬的 | |
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cowered
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的过去式 ) | |
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shredded
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| shred的过去式和过去分词 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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microscopic
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| adj.微小的，细微的，极小的，显微的 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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fume
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| n.(usu pl.)(浓烈或难闻的)烟，气，汽 | |
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pungent
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| adj.（气味、味道）刺激性的，辛辣的；尖锐的 | |
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pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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parasite
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| n.寄生虫；寄生菌；食客 | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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hysterically
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| ad. 歇斯底里地 | |
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83
prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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84
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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85
resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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