“Yes,” she said, speaking as if in a dream.
“Do you understand? At the Colosseum at four, without fail.”
“Yes,” said Ella again abstractedly, as he held her cold hand in his, her face being turned towards the door.
“But mind this,” he said, “this is no time for child’s-play. If you are not there soon after the time named, I must catch the train, and I dare not wait. If you are not there, I go alone!”
“Do you think I could fail?” said Ella, turning upon him her sweet candid2 countenance3. “I will be there.”
Was Max Bray4 ashamed of his face, that he held it down as he hurried from the house? Perhaps not; but he was evidently much excited, for he muttered half aloud, as if running over certain plans that he had arranged for a particular end.
“Could it be right? Was it all true?” Ella asked herself, when alone in her bedroom, with the sense of a deep unutterable misery5 crushing her; and once more she read the letters she had retained.
“O yes, it was too true, too true! But what was she about to do? To accompany the man she mistrusted, the man she dreaded6? He had been trusted, though, before now; and of late, too, his conduct had been so different—he had even seemed to dislike her. Still, under any other circumstances, she would not have gone; but at such a time, in answer to such an appeal, how could she stay?”
Her brain was in a whirl, and she could not reason quietly. She only knew now the depth of love she felt, and urged by that love, everything else seemed little and of no import.
Hours must have passed, when, after sending twice to Mrs Marter, she received that lady’s gracious permission to wait upon her.
“I should have sent for you before long—as soon as I felt that I could bear it, Miss Bedford,” said Mrs Marter—“to demand some explanation of your receiving visitors early in the morning without my consent. I understand that somewhere about seven o’clock—”
“I believe the clock had struck nine,” said Ella quietly.
“Seven, or eight, or nine, or ten, it’s all the same!” exclaimed Mrs Marter angrily. “Pray, Miss Bedford, what did Mr Bray want here this morning? Was it supposed that I should not know of the visit?”
“Mr Bray came to tell me of the illness of a very dear friend,” said Ella pitifully; “and now I come to ask your consent to absent myself for a few days.”
“Of course, I might have known that that was coming! Certainly not, Miss Bedford! And until I have communicated with Mrs Brandon, I desire you do not leave the house. What next, I wonder?”
“Mr Bray brought me letters. It is a matter of life and death!” said Ella earnestly. “Surely, madam, in such a case you will not refuse me?”
“And pray who is it that is ill?” said Mrs Marter sneeringly9.
Ella was silent. She could not have spoken then, in spite of every effort, even to have saved her life.
“I can see through it all! I am not blind!” exclaimed Mrs Marter. “I shall certainly not give my consent, Miss Bedford. It is a planned affair, and I have been deceived. Now leave the room.”
Ella would have spoken, but she felt that it would have been without avail; and hurrying out, she once more sought her own chamber10.
What did Mrs Marter mean? What was planned? Impossible! She had the proof in those letters. And once more she read them with beating heart before asking herself whether she would be doing right or wrong.
What had she promised? To meet Max Bray at four—to trust herself to his guidance. What had she to fear? Surely scheming baseness could never go so low! But it was absurd! She had those letters, and did she not know the handwriting?
She examined her purse. The store was slender, but not so small as of old. Then she prepared a few necessaries in a small travelling-bag before referring again and again to the time, which seemed to lag slowly by, as she pictured scene after scene of misery and death, till she seated herself at a table, and rested her aching throbbing11 brow upon her hands.
About two o’clock a message came from Mrs Marter to know why she did not attend the young ladies’ dinner; when, starting up, she descended12, matters of the present having quite escaped her in the rush of terrible thoughts which swept through her brain.
She went through her duties mechanically, hurrying back as soon as she possibly could to her room, and dressed for a journey; when standing13, bag in hand, ready, and waiting for the appointed hour, now very near at hand, a strange nervous dread7 began to oppress her—a cold shivering sense of evil, which made her hands feel damp and cold, and her lips hot, parched14, and dry.
Twenty times over she was about to tear off her things and give up, but her hand seemed to go mechanically to her breast, when a touch of those letters strengthened her resolve. She felt then that she must go—something was drawing her that she could not resist. But again began the shrinking, and each time to be struggled with till the dread was beaten; and at last, waking from a wild, nervous, excited struggle between strength and indecision, Ella found that the hour was long past, and, bag in hand, she fled down the stairs.
“Miss Bedford—Miss Bedford!” screamed a passionate15 voice as she passed the drawing-room. But, with face pale and eyes fixed16, Ella seemed to be walking in her sleep, or labouring under the stupor17 produced by some narcotic18; for she passed on, heedless of the call—one hand holding the travelling-bag, the other clasping the letters, which acted as a talisman19 to nerve her in each sore time of shrinking.
The poison was working well. But in the passage she stayed for an instant, hesitating. What step was she taking? Where would this end?
A cold shudder20 passed through her; but once more she was drawn21 on against her will, her better sense, and the powers that should have withheld22 her.
Another moment and her hand was on the fastening of the door; and for the last time she paused, hung back for an instant, and would have returned, when her hand again pressed the letters. She uttered a feeble wailing23 cry as her lips formed a name, and then, opening the door, she stood upon the steps as if hesitating; but the portal swung to, and fastened itself with a loud snap; and fully8 feeling now that she had taken the step, she drew down her veil and hurried over the distance that lay between her and the Colosseum, suffering from a new dread.
The step taken, she felt now nerved for any contingency24, and recalling Max Bray’s words, she reproached herself for her delay.
What had he said? If she were not there, he would go alone!
She almost ran now over the pathway till she caught sight of a cab.
Was that the one, or had he gone? Was she too late?
Yes, she was too late, she told herself, for he was not there; but the next moment, giddy with excitement, she felt her hand seized, the bag taken from her, the banging of a cab-door; when, as a voice exclaimed, “At last!” there was a noise of wheels, and she felt that she was being hurried through the streets.
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1
hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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2
candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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3
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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4
bray
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| n.驴叫声, 喇叭声；v.驴叫 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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6
dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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7
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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8
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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9
sneeringly
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| 嘲笑地，轻蔑地 | |
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10
chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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11
throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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12
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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13
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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14
parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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15
passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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16
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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17
stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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18
narcotic
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| n.麻醉药，镇静剂；adj.麻醉的，催眠的 | |
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19
talisman
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| n.避邪物，护身符 | |
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20
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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21
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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22
withheld
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| withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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23
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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24
contingency
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| n.意外事件，可能性 | |
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