She was on the point of taking the Squire2's breakfast upstairs when the man arrived at the Hall, and asked to see her.
Ten minutes later Mrs. Dinkel entered her patient's room. Like the thoughtful creature she was, even in the midst of her distress3 she had not forgotten the breakfast tray. Having placed it on the table by the bedside, she turned to the Squire, and, in a voice which not all her efforts could render firm, said:
"Sir, a great misfortune has befallen me--the most terrible that could have happened. My son has been murdered! The tidings have just reached me. His body was found early this morning in Threeways Spinny. He had been shot through the heart--he who had not an enemy in the world! Sir, I must leave here at once. I am wanted at home, as you can well conceive; but if----"
"Dead! your son dead!" shrieked4 the Squire, almost as shrilly5 as a woman might have done. Then for a few seconds he remained speechless. His heart stopped beating, and a black veil dropped before his eyes. But the very force of the shock brought its own reaction. He flung up his arms, and then let them drop helplessly on the bed. "In that case, what is to become of me?" he moaned.
"The Lord in heaven only knows, sir, for I'm sure I don't," answered Mrs. Dinkel. It was all she could do to crush down her emotion.
The Squire sank back on his pillow with a groan6. The bereaved7 mother stood looking at him, anxious to go, and yet, so strong was the professional instinct in her, not liking8 to leave him.
Of a sudden he beckoned9 her to go closer to him, and when she had done so he clutched her by the sleeve of her gown. In three short minutes his face seemed to have aged1 a dozen years. His lips had turned of a grayish purple, and a thin froth had gathered at their corners. His eyes were the eyes of a terror-hunted soul brought to bay, and yet ready to turn and curse with its latest breath the inexorable fate which had driven it there.
"Don't think I do not pity you, because that would be a mistake on your part," he said. "I pity you and sympathize with you most sincerely. But--but your son must have left a lot of the drug--you know what I mean--behind him. Don't you think so, hey? And--and as soon as ever you can spare time--in the course of the day, you know--you will have a thorough search made, and ascertain10 the quantity, and let me know at the earliest possible moment, won't you? Yes, yes; he must have left quite a considerable quantity ready prepared. I feel sure of it; so don't forget to send me word as soon as you can."
There was a terrible eagerness in the way he spoke11, and he would not loose his hold of her till she had promised him, that he should hear from her in the course of the forenoon.
When she was gone her place was taken by Miss Baynard.
That morning the Squire's breakfast was sent away untasted, and he made no effort to get up. Anxiety held him as with a vise--an anxiety shot through and through with forebodings the most dire12. He lay without speaking, watching with feverish13 eyes the slow-moving fingers of the clock on the chimney-piece, each of whose solemn ticks seemed to him to mark a stitch in the tapestry14 of Doom15. It was a few minutes past two when a servant brought upstairs a small sealed packet, together with a letter, both of them addressed to "Ambrose Cortelyon, Esq.," and both of them just brought by a special messenger. The sick man had no need to ask who was the sender.
"Open the letter and read it aloud, Nell," he said, as soon as the servant had left the room. It was not merely that he had lost the control of his fingers--he shook from head to foot like one in an ague fit.
Nell did as she was bidden.
"Honored Sir" (she read), "In accordance with your wish and my own promise, I have made diligent16 and careful search in every corner, cupboard, and drawer of the room in which my poor son mixed his physics and attended to his doctoring business, with the result (and it grieves me much to have to tell it you) that I have not succeeded in finding more than two phials of the stuff ready mixed for taking, the which, under cover, I herewith send you.
"It would appear to have been my son's custom not to prepare any large quantity of the drug beforehand, perhaps--but on this point I speak without certainty--because he found that some portion of its virtue17 was lost with keeping.
"I remain, honored sir,
"Your obedient, humble18 servant,
"Martha Dinkel.
"P.S.--Since writing the above I have made another thorough search, high and low, in every nook and corner of the premises19, but it has proved a sheer waste of time.
"Mr. Cortelyon, sir, in the midst of my own distress, permit me respectfully to observe that my heart bleeds for you."
When Nell had read to the last word, the Squire made no comment aloud, only to himself he murmured: "Mors ultima linea rerum est." He had not opened his Horace for years, but the line came back to him quite freshly to-day. He knew that he was a doomed20 man, and that no earthly power could save him. Well, according to all human calculations he ought to have been dead and buried a number of weeks ago, but another brief spell of life had been granted him, and if, through a tragic21 misfortune which no one could have foreseen, it had come prematurely22 to a close, why, there was no help for it. All that was now left him to do was to wrap his toga about him and await the end with silent stoicism.
Although he took the two remaining doses of the drug in due course, he made no attempt to rise from his bed after hearing of Dinkel's death. From that hour life, with its manifold interests, became to him as a dead letter. He had done with it, and it had done with him. They were quits.
So, day after day and night after night, he lay in the big four poster, silent for the most part, and often without opening his eyes for hours together; feeling his strength ebbing23 imperceptibly away, and, between his fitful snatches of sleep, thinking, ever thinking, for his mind remained as vigorous and lucid24 as ever it had been. What strange and awesome25 thoughts must oftentimes have been his as he lay there in grim resolute26 silence, waiting for his "order of release"!
His niece and Andry Luce took it in turns to watch by him. It was an easy task, there was so little that he wanted or that could be done for him. Miss Baynard had taken it on herself to send for Dr.s Banks and Mills, who responded to the summons in all haste.
The Squire opened his eyes and favored them with one of his sardonic27 smiles as they entered the room.
"Eh-eh! come to see the last of your handiwork?" he said, and already his voice had sunk to a half-whisper. "Very kind and attentive28 of you, I'm sure. And besides, my case is such an interesting and uncommon29 one. It will be something for you to wrangle30 over as long as you live, and at the end you will know no more about it than you do now. Yes, yes, very kind and attentive of you; but as for your physic, I'll have no more on't--that's flat. Throw it to the dogs, as Shakespeare says. And now, 'I have an exposition of sleep come upon me.'"
Of course they could do nothing, and to Miss Baynard they were candid31 enough to admit as much. It was a sad state of things.
And so the muffled32 hours stole after each other one by one till a week had gone by, by which time it became evident that the end was not far off.
No arrest had yet been made in connection with the murder of Cornelius Dinkel, and it may here be added that none ever was made. The murderer had left no traces behind him, and, search as diligently33 as they might, not a tittle of evidence was forthcoming to back up any of the theories propounded34 by the authorities in relation to the crime.
On a certain afternoon, somewhat to Miss Baynard's surprise, Mrs. Bullivant made her appearance at the Hall. It was a step which she had not taken till after mature consideration. The first few days after Dinkel's death had been passed by her in a fever of apprehension35. Precisely36 what it was that she feared she did not whisper even to herself, but she could not bear a ring or a knock at the door without experiencing a spasm37 of silent terror. Yet all this time her brother remained as darkly quiet, as listless, and apparently38 as indifferent to everything, save his own little comforts, as she ever remembered him to have been. Wet or fine, he went out every day for a long walk, and it was he who brought back the rumors39 he lighted on in his rambles41 anent the Squire of Stanbrook.
One day he brought back something which was more than a rumor40. It was something he had been told at second-hand42 as having emanated43 from no less an authority than Dr. Banks. Mr. Cortelyon was at death's door, and this time there was no possible chance of his recovery! Then it was that Mrs. Bullivant debated with her brother whether she ought not to pay one more visit to Stanbrook while the Squire was able to recognize her. Captain Ferris was strongly of opinion that she ought on no account to omit doing so. There was no knowing what influences might be at work. What more easy than to persuade a dying man to execute a codicil44 to his will, or even to have a fresh will drawn45 up, cancelling wholly or in part the provisions of the one already in existence? Most certainly she ought to see for herself how the land lay, not merely in her own interest, but in that of her son, and, if necessary, remain on the spot till all was over.
Little persuasion46 was needed to induce Mrs. Bullivant to fall in with her brother's views. By this time her vague, unspoken apprehensions47 had in a great measure subsided48. Dinkel had been dead more than a week, and nothing had happened. Nothing would happen now, she told herself. She would go to Stanbrook.
More than once--indeed quite a number of times--when talking over her last interview with Mr. Cortelyon, her brother had made her repeat one sentence in particular which the Squire had addressed to her in allusion49 to the contents of his will: "There is perhaps such a surprise in store for you as you little wot of." To both her and the Captain it was a sentence which seemed pregnant with golden possibilities; and it is hardly to be wondered at that, on her way to Stanbrook, her imagination built up more than one gorgeous aerial fabric50, although, as a rule, she kept that arrant51 jerry-builder in the most complete subjection.
On hearing that Mrs. Bullivant had arrived, Miss Baynard went downstairs to receive her. When they met the former made as if she would have kissed Nell, but the girl drew back a little haughtily52. She was not in the habit of being kissed, even by those of her own sex, and in her visitor's case it would have seemed to her a veritable baiser de Judas. But she could not, with any show of courtesy, refuse her hand.
"How is he, dear Miss Baynard?" were Mrs. Bullivant's first words. She spoke in hushed tones, although as yet she had got no farther than the entrance-hall.
"He is sinking fast, and is almost speechless."
"You shock me more than I can say." And, to do her justice, for the moment she looked shocked. To herself she said, "If he is speechless, or nearly so, it is too late for him to think of altering his will, and, if he has done so already, I have come too late to help it." Aloud she went on: "I had not the faintest idea that his illness had assumed the gravity you tell me it has--news percolates53 to us so slowly at Uplands--otherwise I should have been here before now. But now that I am here, dear Miss Baynard, you must let me stay with you till the end. Mr. Cortelyon, as you are probably aware, regarded me with a very special affection. Had circumstances turned out differently, I should have been his daughter-in-law. But my life has been one long disappointment."
Knowing what she did of the purport54 of her uncle's will, Nell felt that, little as she liked the woman, she was not in a position to object to her presence in the house. In a very little while Mrs. Bullivant would be mistress of Stanbrook and of everything in it, while she, Nell, would be little better than an outcast. But however bitter and humiliating it might be to know this, she had other things to think of just now.
When Mrs. Bullivant and Nell entered the sick room together some minutes later, Mrs. Budd, who had been keeping watch in the interim55, rose, curtsied to the newcomer, and went.
Mr. Cortelyon lay with closed eyes and with both arms extended on the coverlet; one shut hand held the coveted56 stater of Epaticcus, the other grasped his silver snuffbox. An involuntary exclamation57 escaped Mrs. Bullivant as her eyes fell on his face. Once before she had believed him to be at the point of death, and only by what might almost be termed a miracle had his life been prolonged. This time no miracle would intervene. His hours, nay58, his very minutes, were numbered; Death's awful shadow was already closing round him; would he live through the night?
About half an hour later he opened his eyes, turned his head slightly and stared about him. Mrs. Bullivant rose, crossed on tiptoe to the bed and bent59 over him. "Dear Mr. Cortelyon, don't you know me?" she murmured. "Yes, I am sure you do."
For a second or two he peered up into her face with contracted lids, as if not quite sure about her identity. Then, with an inarticulate noise, which seemed more indicative of anger and repulsion than of anything else, he raised both his hands and pushed her rather roughly away. Mrs. Bullivant went back to her chair with a somewhat heightened color in her cheeks. "Poor dear!" she said in an undertone; "it is quite evident that he no longer knows what he is about."
And so daylight slid slowly into dark, and the two women still kept watch on either side of the bed. Dr. Banks, with a cheerful fire and a magnum of port to keep him company, sat below in the library--merely for form's sake, and because it would be an injustice60 to his wife, and family not to make his bill as long a one as possible while the chance was his of doing so.
For some hours the dying man's skin had been gradually changing color, till now it had become of one uniform leaden blue tint61. Dr. Banks, who stepped upstairs for a couple of minutes every half-hour or so, said to himself that it must be one of the effects of "that damned drug."
Midnight was drawing on. For upwards62 of an hour Mr. Cortelyon had been lying to all appearance in a comatose63 state, when of a sudden he opened his eyes and raised himself in bed without help--a thing he had not done for days past. "The will! the will!--get it and destroy it before it's too late!" he cried in harsh, insistent64 tones, punctuated65 by gasps66. "I've done wrong--wrong. I know it now--I feel it. To my grandson all--all! To that woman"--pointing to the shocked Mrs. Bullivant--"nothing. Send at once--not a minute's delay. Piljoy has it. Or else it will be too late--too late!"
Alas67! it was already too late. He sank back, gasping68 for breath, with eyes that were already beginning to glaze69. Five minutes later all was over.
Mrs. Bullivant dabbed70 her eyes with her handkerchief. "Poor dear! I am so thankful he did not suffer much," she said. "That he should wander a little in his mind at the last is not to be wondered at. Nearly all aged people do that when they are dying."
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1
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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bereaved
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| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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ascertain
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| vt.发现，确定，查明，弄清 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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dire
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| adj.可怕的，悲惨的，阴惨的，极端的 | |
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feverish
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| adj.发烧的，狂热的，兴奋的 | |
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tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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diligent
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| adj.勤勉的，勤奋的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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prematurely
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| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
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ebbing
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| （指潮水）退( ebb的现在分词 )； 落； 减少； 衰落 | |
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lucid
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| adj.明白易懂的，清晰的，头脑清楚的 | |
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awesome
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| adj.令人惊叹的，难得吓人的，很好的 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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sardonic
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| adj.嘲笑的，冷笑的，讥讽的 | |
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attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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wrangle
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| vi.争吵 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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propounded
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| v.提出（问题、计划等）供考虑[讨论]，提议( propound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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rambles
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| （无目的地）漫游( ramble的第三人称单数 )； （喻）漫谈； 扯淡； 长篇大论 | |
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42
second-hand
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| adj.用过的，旧的，二手的 | |
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43
emanated
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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codicil
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| n.遗嘱的附录 | |
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45
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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apprehensions
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| 疑惧 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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49
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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50
fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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51
arrant
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| adj.极端的；最大的 | |
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52
haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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53
percolates
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| v.滤( percolate的第三人称单数 )；渗透；（思想等）渗透；渗入 | |
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54
purport
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| n.意义，要旨，大要；v.意味著，做为...要旨，要领是... | |
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55
interim
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| adj.暂时的，临时的；n.间歇，过渡期间 | |
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56
coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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58
nay
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| adv.不；n.反对票，投反对票者 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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61
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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62
upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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63
comatose
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| adj.昏睡的，昏迷不醒的 | |
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64
insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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65
punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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66
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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67
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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68
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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69
glaze
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| v.因疲倦、疲劳等指眼睛变得呆滞，毫无表情 | |
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70
dabbed
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| （用某物）轻触( dab的过去式和过去分词 )； 轻而快地擦掉（或抹掉）； 快速擦拭； （用某物）轻而快地涂上（或点上）… | |
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