,it
was
then
that
I
drew
the
loose
iron
spindle
from
the
shrunken
wood
,
and
saw
my
first
husband
sink
with
one
horrible
cry
into
the
black
mouth
of
the
well
.
There
is
a
legend
of
its
enormous
depth
.
I
do
not
know
how
deep
it
is
.
It
is
dry
,
I
suppose
,
for
I
heard
no
splash
,
only
a
dull
thud
.
I
looked
down
and
I
saw
nothing
but
black
emptiness
.
I
knelt
down
and
listened
,
but
the
cry
was
not
repeated
,
though
I
waited
for
nearly
a
quarter
of
an
hour
—
God
knows
how
long
it
seemed
to
me
!
—
by
the
mouth
of
the
well
.
"
Robert
Audley
uttered
a
word
of
horror
when
the
story
was
finished
.
He
moved
a
little
nearer
toward
the
door
against
which
Helen
Talboys
stood
.
Had
there
been
any
other
means
of
exit
from
the
room
,
he
would
gladly
have
availed
himself
of
it
.
He
shrank
from
even
a
momentary
contact
with
this
creature
.
"
Let
me
pass
you
,
if
you
please
,
"
he
said
,
in
an
icy
voice
.
"
You
see
I
do
not
fear
to
make
my
confession
to
you
,
"
said
Helen
Talboys
;
"
for
two
reasons
.
The
first
is
,
that
you
dare
not
use
it
against
me
,
because
you
know
it
would
kill
your
uncle
to
see
me
in
a
criminal
dock
;
the
second
is
,
that
the
law
could
pronounce
no
worse
sentence
than
this
—
a
life-long
imprisonment
in
a
mad-house
.
You
see
I
do
not
thank
you
for
your
mercy
,
Mr.
Robert
Audley
,
for
I
know
exactly
what
it
is
worth
.
"
She
moved
away
from
the
door
,
and
Robert
passed
her
without
a
word
,
without
a
look
.
Half
an
hour
afterward
he
was
in
one
of
the
principal
hotels
at
Villebrumeuse
,
sitting
at
a
neatly-ordered
supper-table
,
with
no
power
to
eat
;
with
no
power
to
distract
his
mind
,
even
for
a
moment
,
from
the
image
of
that
lost
friend
who
had
been
treacherously
murdered
in
the
thicket
at
Audley
Court
.
CHAPTER
XXXVIII
.
GHOST-HAUNTED
.
No
feverish
sleeper
traveling
in
a
strange
dream
ever
looked
out
more
wonderingly
upon
a
world
that
seemed
unreal
than
Robert
Audley
,
as
he
stared
absently
at
the
flat
swamps
and
dismal
poplars
between
Villebrumeuse
and
Brussels
.
Could
it
be
that
he
was
returning
to
his
uncle
's
house
without
the
woman
who
had
reigned
in
it
for
nearly
two
years
as
queen
and
mistress
?
He
felt
as
if
he
had
carried
off
my
lady
,
and
had
made
away
with
her
secretly
and
darkly
,
and
must
now
render
up
an
account
to
Sir
Michael
of
the
fate
of
that
woman
,
whom
the
baronet
had
so
dearly
loved
.
"
What
shall
I
tell
him
?
"
he
thought
.
"
Shall
I
tell
the
truth
—
the
horrible
,
ghastly
truth
?
No
;
that
would
be
too
cruel
.
His
generous
spirit
would
sink
under
the
hideous
revelation
.
Yet
,
in
his
ignorance
of
the
extent
of
this
wretched
woman
's
wickedness
,
he
may
think
,
perhaps
,
that
I
have
been
hard
with
her
.
"
Brooding
thus
,
Mr.
Robert
Audley
absently
watched
the
cheerless
landscape
from
the
seat
in
the
shabby
coupé
of
the
diligence
,
and
thought
how
great
a
leaf
had
been
torn
out
of
his
life
,
now
that
the
dark
story
of
George
Talboys
was
finished
.
What
had
he
to
do
next
?
A
crowd
of
horrible
thoughts
rushed
into
his
mind
as
he
remembered
the
story
that
he
had
heard
from
the
white
lips
of
Helen
Talboys
.
His
friend
—
his
murdered
friend
—
lay
hidden
among
the
moldering
ruins
of
the
old
well
at
Audley
Court
.
He
had
lain
there
for
six
long
months
,
unburied
,
unknown
;
hidden
in
the
darkness
of
the
old
convent
well
.
What
was
to
be
done
?
To
institute
a
search
for
the
remains
of
the
murdered
man
was
to
inevitably
bring
about
a
coroner
's
inquest
.
Should
such
an
inquest
be
held
,
it
was
next
to
impossible
that
the
history
of
my
lady
's
crime
could
fail
to
be
brought
to
light
.
To
prove
that
George
Talboys
met
with
his
death
at
Audley
Court
,
was
to
prove
almost
as
surely
that
my
lady
had
been
the
instrument
of
that
mysterious
death
;
for
the
young
man
had
been
known
to
follow
her
into
the
lime-walk
upon
the
day
of
his
disappearance
.
"
My
God
!
"
Robert
exclaimed
,
as
the
full
horror
of
his
position
became
evident
to
him
;
"
is
my
friend
to
rest
in
this
unhallowed
burial-place
because
I
have
condoned
the
offenses
of
the
woman
who
murdered
him
?
"
He
felt
that
there
was
no
way
out
of
this
difficulty
.
Sometimes
he
thought
that
it
little
mattered
to
his
dead
friend
whether
he
lay
entombed
beneath
a
marble
monument
,
whose
workmanship
should
be
the
wonder
of
the
universe
,
or
in
that
obscure
hiding-place
in
the
thicket
at
Audley
Court
.
At
another
time
he
would
be
seized
with
a
sudden
horror
at
the
wrong
that
had
been
done
to
the
murdered
man
,
and
would
fain
have
traveled
even
more
rapidly
than
the
express
between
Brussels
and
Paris
could
carry
him
in
his
eagerness
to
reach
the
end
of
his
journey
,
that
he
might
set
right
this
cruel
wrong
.
He
was
in
London
at
dusk
on
the
second
day
after
that
on
which
he
had
left
Audley
Court
,
and
he
drove
straight
to
the
Clarendon
,
to
inquire
after
his
uncle
.
He
had
no
intention
of
seeing
Sir
Michael
,
as
he
had
not
yet
determined
how
much
or
how
little
he
should
tell
him
,
but
he
was
very
anxious
to
ascertain
how
the
old
man
had
sustained
the
cruel
shock
he
had
so
lately
endured
.
"
I
will
see
Alicia
,
"
he
thought
,
"
she
will
tell
me
all
about
her
father
.
It
is
only
two
days
since
he
left
Audley
.
I
can
scarcely
expect
to
hear
of
any
favorable
change
.
"
But
Mr.
Audley
was
not
destined
to
see
his
cousin
that
evening
,
for
the
servants
at
the
Clarendon
told
him
that
Sir
Michael
and
his
daughter
had
left
by
the
morning
mail
for
Paris
,
on
their
way
to
Vienna
.
Robert
was
very
well
pleased
to
receive
this
intelligence
;
it
afforded
him
a
welcome
respite
,
for
it
would
be
decidedly
better
to
tell
the
baronet
nothing
of
his
guilty
wife
until
he
returned
to
England
,
with
health
unimpaired
and
spirits
re-established
,
it
was
to
be
hoped
.
Mr.
Audley
drove
to
the
Temple
.
The
chambers
which
had
seemed
dreary
to
him
ever
since
the
disappearance
of
George
Talboys
,
were
doubly
so
to-night
.
For
that
which
had
been
only
a
dark
suspicion
had
now
become
a
horrible
certainty
.
There
was
no
longer
room
for
the
palest
ray
,
the
most
transitory
glimmer
of
hope
.
His
worst
terrors
had
been
too
well
founded
.
George
Talboys
had
been
cruelly
and
treacherously
murdered
by
the
wife
he
had
loved
and
mourned
.
There
were
three
letters
waiting
for
Mr.
Audley
at
his
chambers
.
One
was
from
Sir
Michael
,
and
another
from
Alicia
.
The
third
was
addressed
in
a
hand
the
young
barrister
knew
only
too
well
,
though
he
had
seen
it
but
once
before
.
His
face
flushed
redly
at
the
sight
of
the
superscription
,
and
he
took
the
letter
in
his
hand
,
carefully
and
tenderly
,
as
if
it
had
been
a
living
thing
,
and
sentient
to
his
touch
.
He
turned
it
over
and
over
in
his
hands
,
looking
at
the
crest
upon
the
envelope
,
at
the
post-mark
,
at
the
color
of
the
paper
,
and
then
put
it
into
the
bosom
of
his
waistcoat
with
a
strange
smile
upon
his
face
.
"
What
a
wretched
and
unconscionable
fool
I
am
!
"
he
thought
.
"
Have
I
laughed
at
the
follies
of
weak
men
all
my
life
,
and
am
I
to
be
more
foolish
than
the
weakest
of
them
at
last
?
The
beautiful
brown-eyed
creature
!
Why
did
I
ever
see
her
?
Why
did
my
relentless
Nemesis
ever
point
the
way
to
that
dreary
house
in
Dorsetshire
?
"
He
opened
the
first
two
letters
.
He
was
foolish
enough
to
keep
the
last
for
a
delicious
morsel
—
a
fairy-like
dessert
after
the
commonplace
substantialities
of
a
dinner
.
Alicia
's
letter
told
him
that
Sir
Michael
had
borne
his
agony
with
such
a
persevering
tranquility
that
she
had
become
at
last
far
more
alarmed
by
his
patient
calmness
than
by
any
stormy
manifestation
of
despair
.
In
this
difficulty
she
had
secretly
called
upon
the
physician
who
attended
the
Audley
household
in
any
cases
of
serious
illness
,
and
had
requested
this
gentleman
to
pay
Sir
Michael
an
apparently
accidental
visit
.
He
had
done
so
,
and
after
stopping
half
an
hour
with
the
baronet
,
had
told
Alicia
that
there
was
no
present
danger
of
any
serious
consequence
from
this
great
grief
,
but
that
it
was
necessary
that
every
effort
should
be
made
to
arouse
Sir
Michael
,
and
to
force
him
,
however
unwillingly
,
into
action
.
Alicia
had
immediately
acted
upon
this
advice
,
had
resumed
her
old
empire
as
a
spoiled
child
,
and
reminded
her
father
of
a
promise
he
had
made
of
taking
her
through
Germany
.
With
considerable
difficulty
she
had
induced
him
to
consent
to
fulfilling
this
old
promise
,
and
having
once
gained
her
point
,
she
had
contrived
that
they
should
leave
England
as
soon
as
it
was
possible
to
do
so
,
and
she
told
Robert
,
in
conclusion
,
that
she
would
not
bring
her
father
back
to
his
old
house
until
she
had
taught
him
to
forget
the
sorrows
associated
with
it
.
The
baronet
's
letter
was
very
brief
.
It
contained
half
a
dozen
blank
checks
on
Sir
Michael
Audley
's
London
bankers
.
"
You
will
require
money
,
my
dear
Robert
,
"
he
wrote
,
"
for
such
arrangements
as
you
may
think
fit
to
make
for
the
future
comfort
of
the
person
I
committed
to
your
care
.
I
need
scarcely
tell
you
that
those
arrangements
cannot
be
too
liberal
.
But
perhaps
it
is
as
well
that
I
should
tell
you
now
,
for
the
first
and
only
time
,
that
it
is
my
earnest
wish
never
again
to
hear
that
person
's
name
.
I
have
no
wish
to
be
told
the
nature
of
the
arrangements
you
may
make
for
her
.
I
am
sure
that
you
will
act
conscientiously
and
mercifully
.
I
seek
to
know
no
more
.
Whenever
you
want
money
,
you
will
draw
upon
me
for
any
sums
that
you
may
require
;
but
you
will
have
no
occasion
to
tell
me
for
whose
use
you
want
that
money
.
"
Robert
Audley
breathed
a
long
sigh
of
relief
as
he
folded
this
letter
.
It
released
him
from
a
duty
which
it
would
have
been
most
painful
for
him
to
perform
,
and
it
forever
decided
his
course
of
action
with
regard
to
the
murdered
man
.
George
Talboys
must
lie
at
peace
in
his
unknown
grave
,
and
Sir
Michael
Audley
must
never
learn
that
the
woman
he
had
loved
bore
the
red
brand
of
murder
on
her
soul
.
Robert
had
only
the
third
letter
to
open
—
the
letter
which
he
had
placed
in
his
bosom
while
he
read
the
others
;
he
tore
open
the
envelope
,
handling
it
carefully
and
tenderly
as
he
had
done
before
.
The
letter
was
as
brief
as
Sir
Michael
's
.
It
contained
only
these
few
lines
:
"
DEAR
MR.
AUDLEY
—
The
rector
of
this
place
has
been
twice
to
see
Marks
,
the
man
you
saved
in
the
fire
at
the
Castle
Inn
.
He
lies
in
a
very
precarious
state
at
his
mother
's
cottage
,
near
Audley
Court
,
and
is
not
expected
to
live
many
days
.
His
wife
is
attending
him
,
and
both
he
and
she
have
expressed
a
most
earnest
desire
that
you
should
see
him
before
he
dies
.
Pray
come
without
delay
.
"
Yours
very
sincerely
,
"
CLARA
TALBOYS
.
"
Mount
Stanning
Rectory
,
March
6.
"
Robert
Audley
folded
this
letter
very
reverently
,
and
placed
it
underneath
that
part
of
his
waistcoat
which
might
be
supposed
to
cover
the
region
of
his
heart
.
Having
done
this
,
he
seated
himself
in
his
favorite
arm-chair
,
filled
and
lighted
a
pipe
and
smoked
it
out
,
staring
reflectingly
at
the
fire
as
long
as
his
tobacco
lasted
.
"
What
can
that
man
Marks
want
with
me
,
"
thought
the
barrister
.
"
He
is
afraid
to
die
until
he
has
made
confession
,
perhaps
.
He
wishes
to
tell
me
that
which
I
know
already
—
the
story
of
my
lady
's
crime
.
I
knew
that
he
was
in
the
secret
.
I
was
sure
of
it
even
upon
the
night
on
which
I
first
saw
him
.
He
knew
the
secret
,
and
he
traded
on
it
.
"
Robert
Audley
shrank
strangely
from
returning
to
Essex
.
How
should
he
meet
Clara
Talboys
now
that
he
knew
the
secret
of
her
brother
's
fate
?
How
many
lies
he
should
have
to
tell
,
or
how
much
equivocation
he
must
use
in
order
to
keep
the
truth
from
her
?
Yet
would
there
be
any
mercy
in
telling
that
horrible
story
,
the
knowledge
of
which
must
cast
a
blight
upon
her
youth
,
and
blot
out
every
hope
she
had
even
secretly
cherished
?
He
knew
by
his
own
experience
how
possible
it
was
to
hope
against
hope
,
and
to
hope
unconsciously
;
and
he
could
not
bear
that
her
heart
should
be
crushed
as
his
had
been
by
the
knowledge
of
the
truth
.
"
Better
that
she
should
hope
vainly
to
the
last
,
"
he
thought
;
"
better
that
she
should
go
through
life
seeking
the
clew
to
her
lost
brother
's
fate
,
than
that
I
should
give
that
clew
into
her
hands
,
and
say
,
'
Our
worst
fears
are
realized
.
The
brother
you
loved
has
been
foully
murdered
in
the
early
promise
of
his
youth
.
'
"
But
Clara
Talboys
had
written
to
him
,
imploring
him
to
return
to
Essex
without
delay
.
Could
he
refuse
to
do
her
bidding
,
however
painful
its
accomplishment
might
be
?
And
again
,
the
man
was
dying
,
perhaps
,
and
had
implored
to
see
him
.
Would
it
not
be
cruel
to
refuse
to
go
—
to
delay
an
hour
unnecessarily
?
He
looked
at
his
watch
.
It
wanted
only
five
minutes
to
nine
.
There
was
no
train
to
Audley
after
the
Ipswich
mail
,
which
left
London
at
half-past
eight
;
but
there
was
a
train
that
left
Shoreditch
at
eleven
,
and
stopped
at
Brentwood
between
twelve
and
one
.
Robert
decided
upon
going
by
this
train
,
and
walking
the
distance
between
Brentwood
and
Audley
,
which
was
upwards
of
six
miles
.
Fleet
street
was
quiet
and
lonely
at
this
late
hour
,
and
Robert
Audley
being
in
a
ghost-seeing
mood
,
would
have
been
scarcely
astonished
had
he
seen
Johnson
's
set
come
roystering
westward
in
the
lamp-light
,
or
blind
John
Milton
groping
his
way
down
the
steps
before
Saint
Bride
's
Church
.
Mr.
Audley
hailed
a
hansom
at
the
corner
of
Farrington
street
,
and
was
rattled
rapidly
away
across
tenantless
Smithfield
market
,
and
into
a
labyrinth
of
dingy
streets
that
brought
him
out
upon
the
broad
grandeur
of
Finsbury
Pavement
.
The
hansom
rattled
up
the
steep
and
stony
approach
to
Shoreditch
Station
,
and
deposited
Robert
at
the
doors
of
that
unlovely
temple
.
There
were
very
few
people
going
to
travel
by
this
midnight
train
,
and
Robert
walked
up
and
down
the
long
wooden
platform
,
reading
the
huge
advertisements
whose
gaunt
lettering
looked
wan
and
ghastly
in
the
dim
lamplight
.
He
had
the
carriage
in
which
he
sat
all
to
himself
.
All
to
himself
did
I
say
?
Had
he
not
lately
summoned
to
his
side
that
ghostly
company
which
of
all
companionship
is
the
most
tenacious
?
The
shadow
of
George
Talboys
pursued
him
,
even
in
the
comfortable
first-class
carriage
,
and
was
behind
him
when
he
looked
out
of
the
window
,
and
was
yet
far
ahead
of
him
and
the
rushing
engine
,
in
that
thicket
toward
which
the
train
was
speeding
,
by
the
side
of
the
unhallowed
hiding-place
in
which
the
mortal
remains
of
the
dead
man
lay
,
neglected
and
uncared
for
.
"
I
must
give
my
lost
friend
decent
burial
,
"
Robert
thought
,
as
the
chill
wind
swept
across
the
flat
landscape
,
and
struck
him
with
such
frozen
breath
as
might
have
emanated
from
the
lips
of
the
dead
.
"
I
must
do
it
;
or
I
shall
die
of
some
panic
like
this
which
has
seized
upon
me
to-night
.
I
must
do
it
;
at
any
peril
;
at
any
cost
.
Even
at
the
price
of
that
revelation
which
will
bring
the
mad
woman
back
from
her
safe
hiding-place
,
and
place
her
in
a
criminal
dock
.
"
He
was
glad
when
the
train
stopped
at
Brentwood
at
a
few
minutes
after
twelve
.
It
was
half-past
one
o'clock
when
the
night
wanderer
entered
the
village
of
Audley
,
and
it
was
only
there
that
he
remembered
that
Clara
Talboys
had
omitted
to
give
him
any
direction
by
which
he
might
find
the
cottage
in
which
Luke
Marks
lay
.
"
It
was
Dawson
who
recommended
that
the
poor
creature
should
be
taken
to
his
mother
's
cottage
,
"
Robert
thought
,
by-and-by
,
"
and
,
I
dare
say
.
Dawson
has
attended
him
ever
since
the
fire
.
He
'll
be
able
to
tell
me
the
way
to
the
cottage
.
"
Acting
upon
this
idea
,
Mr.
Audley
stopped
at
the
house
in
which
Helen
Talboys
had
lived
before
her
second
marriage
.
The
door
of
the
little
surgery
was
ajar
,
and
there
was
a
light
burning
within
.
Robert
pushed
the
door
open
and
peeped
in
.
The
surgeon
was
standing
at
the
mahogany
counter
,
mixing
a
draught
in
a
glass
measure
,
with
his
hat
close
beside
him
.
Late
as
it
was
,
he
had
evidently
only
just
come
in
.
The
harmonious
snoring
of
his
assistant
sounded
from
a
little
room
within
the
surgery
.
"
I
am
sorry
to
disturb
you
,
Mr.
Dawson
,
"
Robert
said
,
apologetically
,
as
the
surgeon
looked
up
and
recognized
him
,
"
but
I
have
come
down
to
see
Marks
,
who
,
I
hear
,
is
in
a
very
bad
way
,
and
I
want
you
to
tell
me
the
way
to
his
mother
's
cottage
.
"
"
I
'll
show
you
the
way
,
Mr.
Audley
,
"
answered
the
surgeon
,
"
I
am
going
there
this
minute
.
"
"
The
man
is
very
bad
,
then
?
"
"
So
bad
that
he
can
be
no
worse
.
The
change
that
can
happen
is
that
change
which
will
take
him
beyond
the
reach
of
any
earthly
suffering
.
"
"
Strange
!
"
exclaimed
Robert
.
"
He
did
not
appear
to
be
much
burned
.
"
"
He
was
not
much
burnt
.
Had
he
been
,
I
should
never
have
recommended
his
being
removed
from
Mount
Stanning
.
It
is
the
shock
that
has
done
the
business
.
He
has
been
in
a
raging
fever
for
the
last
two
days
;
but
to-night
he
is
much
calmer
,
and
I
'm
afraid
,
before
to-morrow
night
,
we
shall
have
seen
the
last
of
him
.
"
"
He
has
asked
to
see
me
,
I
am
told
,
"
said
Mr.
Audley
.
"
Yes
,
"
answered
the
surgeon
,
carelessly
.
"
A
sick
man
's
fancy
,
no
doubt
.
You
dragged
him
out
of
the
house
,
and
did
your
best
to
save
his
life
.
I
dare
say
,
rough
and
boorish
as
the
poor
fellow
is
,
he
thinks
a
good
deal
of
that
.
"
They
had
left
the
surgery
,
the
door
of
which
Mr.
Dawson
had
locked
behind
him
.
There
was
money
in
the
till
,
perhaps
,
for
surely
the
village
apothecary
could
not
have
feared
that
the
most
daring
housebreaker
would
imperil
his
liberty
in
the
pursuit
of
blue
pill
and
colocynth
,
of
salts
and
senna
.
The
surgeon
led
the
way
along
the
silent
street
,
and
presently
turned
into
a
lane
at
the
end
of
which
Robert
Audley
saw
the
wan
glimmer
of
a
light
;
a
light
which
told
of
the
watch
that
is
kept
by
the
sick
and
dying
;
a
pale
,
melancholy
light
,
which
always
has
a
dismal
aspect
when
looked
upon
in
this
silent
hour
betwixt
night
and
morning
.
It
shone
from
the
window
of
the
cottage
in
which
Luke
Marks
lay
,
watched
by
his
wife
and
mother
.
Mr.
Dawson
lifted
the
latch
,
and
walked
into
the
common
room
of
the
little
tenement
,
followed
by
Robert
Audley
.
It
was
empty
,
but
a
feeble
tallow
candle
,
with
a
broken
back
,
and
a
long
,
cauliflower-headed
wick
,
sputtered
upon
the
table
.
The
sick
man
lay
in
the
room
above
.
"
Shall
I
tell
him
you
are
here
?
"
asked
Mr.
Dawson
.
"
Yes
,
yes
,
if
you
please
.
But
be
cautious
how
you
tell
him
,
if
you
think
the
news
likely
to
agitate
him
.
I
am
in
no
hurry
.
I
can
wait
.
You
can
call
me
when
you
think
I
can
safely
come
up-stairs
.
"
The
surgeon
nodded
,
and
softly
ascended
the
narrow
wooden
stairs
leading
to
the
upper
chamber
.
Robert
Audley
seated
himself
in
a
Windsor
chair
by
the
cold
hearth-stone
,
and
stared
disconsolately
about
him
.
But
he
was
relieved
at
last
by
the
low
voice
of
the
surgeon
,
who
looked
down
from
the
top
of
the
little
staircase
to
tell
him
that
Luke
Marks
was
awake
,
and
would
be
glad
to
see
him
.
Robert
immediately
obeyed
this
summons
.
He
crept
softly
up
the
stairs
,
and
took
off
his
hat
before
he
bent
his
head
to
enter
at
the
low
doorway
of
the
humble
rustic
chamber
.
He
took
off
his
hat
in
the
presence
of
this
common
peasant
man
,
because
he
knew
that
there
was
another
and
a
more
awful
presence
hovering
about
the
room
,
and
eager
to
be
admitted
.
Phoebe
Marks
was
sitting
at
the
foot
of
the
bed
,
with
her
eyes
fixed
upon
her
husband
's
face
—
not
with
any
very
tender
expression
in
the
pale
light
,
but
with
a
sharp
,
terrified
anxiety
,
which
showed
that
it
was
the
coming
of
death
itself
that
she
dreaded
,
rather
than
the
loss
of
her
husband
.
The
old
woman
was
busy
at
the
fire-place
,
airing
linen
,
and
preparing
some
mess
of
broth
which
it
was
not
likely
the
patient
would
ever
eat
.
The
sick
man
lay
with
his
head
propped
up
by
pillows
,
his
coarse
face
deadly
pale
,
and
his
great
hands
wandering
uneasily
about
the
coverlet
.
Phoebe
had
been
reading
to
him
,
for
an
open
Testament
lay
among
the
medicine
and
lotion
bottles
upon
the
table
near
the
bed
.
Every
object
in
the
room
was
neat
and
orderly
,
and
bore
witness
of
that
delicate
precision
which
had
always
been
a
distinguishing
characteristic
of
Phoebe
.
The
young
woman
rose
as
Robert
Audley
crossed
the
threshold
,
and
hurried
toward
him
.
"
Let
me
speak
to
you
for
a
moment
,
sir
,
before
you
talk
to
Luke
,
"
she
said
,
in
an
eager
whisper
.
"
Pray
let
me
speak
to
you
first
.
"
"
What
's
the
gal
a-sayin
'
,
there
?
"
asked
the
invalid
in
a
subdued
roar
,
which
died
away
hoarsely
on
his
lips
.
He
was
feebly
savage
,
even
in
his
weakness
.
The
dull
glaze
of
death
was
gathering
over
his
eyes
,
but
they
still
watched
Phoebe
with
a
sharp
glance
of
dissatisfaction
.
"
What
's
she
up
to
there
?
"
he
said
.
"
I
wo
n't
have
no
plottin
'
and
no
hatchin
'
agen
me
.
I
want
to
speak
to
Mr.
Audley
my
own
self
;
and
whatever
I
done
I
'm
goin
'
to
answer
for
.
If
I
done
any
mischief
,
I
'm
a-goin
'
to
try
and
undo
it
.
What
's
she
a-sayin
'
?
"
"
She
ai
n't
a-sayin
'
nothin
'
,
lovey
,
"
answered
the
old
woman
,
going
to
the
bedside
of
her
son
,
who
even
when
made
more
interesting
than
usual
by
illness
,
did
not
seem
a
very
fit
subject
for
this
tender
appellation
.
"
She
's
only
a-tellin
'
the
gentleman
how
bad
you
've
been
,
my
pretty
.
"
"
What
I
'm
a-goin
'
to
tell
I
'm
only
a-goin
'
to
tell
to
him
,
remember
,
"
growled
Mr.
Mark
;
"
and
ketch
me
a-tellin
'
of
it
to
him
if
it
war
n't
for
what
he
done
for
me
the
other
night
.
"
"
To
be
sure
not
,
lovey
,
"
answered
the
old
woman
soothingly
.
Phoebe
Marks
had
drawn
Mr.
Audley
out
of
the
room
and
onto
the
narrow
landing
at
the
top
of
the
little
staircase
.
This
landing
was
a
platform
of
about
three
feet
square
,
and
it
was
as
much
as
the
two
could
manage
to
stand
upon
it
without
pushing
each
other
against
the
whitewashed
wall
,
or
backward
down
the
stairs
.
"
Oh
,
sir
,
I
wanted
to
speak
to
you
so
badly
,
"
Phoebe
answered
,
eagerly
;
"
you
know
what
I
told
you
when
I
found
you
safe
and
well
upon
the
night
of
the
fire
?
"
"
Yes
,
yes
.
"
"
I
told
you
what
I
suspected
;
what
I
think
still
.
"
"
Yes
,
I
remember
.
"
"
But
I
never
breathed
a
word
of
it
to
anybody
but
you
,
sir
,
and
I
think
that
Luke
has
forgotten
all
about
that
night
;
I
think
that
what
went
before
the
fire
has
gone
clean
out
of
his
head
altogether
.
He
was
tipsy
,
you
know
,
when
my
la
—
when
she
came
to
the
Castle
;
and
I
think
he
was
so
dazed
and
scared
like
by
the
fire
that
it
all
went
out
of
his
memory
.
He
does
n't
suspect
what
I
suspect
,
at
any
rate
,
or
he
'd
have
spoken
of
it
to
anybody
or
everybody
;
but
he
's
dreadful
spiteful
against
my
lady
,
for
he
says
if
she
'd
have
let
him
have
a
place
at
Brentwood
or
Chelmsford
,
this
would
n't
have
happened
.
So
what
I
wanted
to
beg
of
you
,
sir
,
is
not
to
let
a
word
drop
before
Luke
.
"
"
Yes
,
yes
,
I
understand
;
I
will
be
careful
.
"
"
My
lady
has
left
the
Court
,
I
hear
,
sir
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
Never
to
come
back
,
sir
?
"
"
Never
to
come
back
.
"
"
But
she
has
not
gone
where
she
'll
be
cruelly
treated
;
where
she
'll
be
ill-used
?
"
"
No
:
she
will
be
very
kindly
treated
.
"
"
I
'm
glad
of
that
,
sir
;
I
beg
your
pardon
for
troubling
you
with
the
question
,
sir
,
but
my
lady
was
a
kind
mistress
to
me
.
"
Luke
's
voice
,
husky
and
feeble
,
was
heard
within
the
little
chamber
at
this
period
of
the
conversation
,
demanding
angrily
when
"
that
gal
would
have
done
jawing
;
"
upon
which
Phoebe
put
her
finger
to
her
lips
,
and
led
Mr.
Audley
back
into
the
sick-room
.
"
I
do
n't
want
you
"
said
Mr.
Marks
,
decisively
,
as
his
wife
re-entered
the
chamber
—
"
I
do
n't
want
you
;
you
've
no
call
to
hear
what
I
've
got
to
say
—
I
only
want
Mr.
Audley
,
and
I
wants
to
speak
to
him
all
alone
,
with
none
o
'
your
sneakin
'
listenin
'
at
doors
,
d'ye
hear
?
so
you
may
go
down-stairs
and
keep
there
till
you
're
wanted
;
and
you
may
take
mother
—
no
,
mother
may
stay
,
I
shall
want
her
presently
.
"
The
sick
man
's
feeble
hand
pointed
to
the
door
,
through
which
his
wife
departed
very
submissively
.
"
I
've
no
wish
to
hear
anything
,
Luke
,
"
she
said
,
"
but
I
hope
you
wo
n't
say
anything
against
those
that
have
been
good
and
generous
to
you
.
"
"
I
shall
say
what
I
like
,
"
answered
Mr.
Marks
,
fiercely
,
"
and
I
'm
not
a-goin
'
to
be
ordered
by
you
.
You
ai
n't
the
parson
,
as
I
've
ever
heerd
of
;
nor
the
lawyer
neither
.
"
The
landlord
of
the
Castle
Inn
had
undergone
no
moral
transformation
by
his
death-bed
sufferings
,
fierce
and
rapid
as
they
had
been
.
Perhaps
some
faint
glimmer
of
a
light
that
had
been
far
off
from
his
life
now
struggled
feebly
through
the
black
obscurities
of
ignorance
that
darkened
his
soul
.
Perhaps
a
half
angry
,
half
sullen
penitence
urged
him
to
make
some
rugged
effort
to
atone
for
a
life
that
had
been
selfish
and
drunken
and
wicked
.
Be
it
how
it
might
he
wiped
his
white
lips
,
and
turning
his
haggard
eyes
earnestly
upon
Robert
Audley
,
pointed
to
a
chair
by
the
bedside
.
"
You
made
game
of
me
in
a
general
way
,
Mr.
Audley
,
"
he
said
,
presently
,
"
and
you
've
drawed
me
out
,
and
you
've
tumbled
and
tossed
me
about
like
in
a
gentlemanly
way
,
till
I
was
nothink
or
anythink
in
your
hands
;
and
you
've
looked
me
through
and
through
,
and
turned
me
inside
out
till
you
thought
you
knowed
as
much
as
I
knowed
.
I
'd
no
particular
call
to
be
grateful
to
you
,
not
before
the
fire
at
the
Castle
t'other
night
.
But
I
am
grateful
to
you
for
that
.
I
'm
not
grateful
to
folks
in
a
general
way
,
p'r'aps
,
because
the
things
as
gentlefolks
have
give
have
a'most
allus
been
the
very
things
I
did
n't
want
.
They
've
give
me
soup
,
and
tracks
,
and
flannel
,
and
coals
;
but
,
Lord
,
they
've
made
such
a
precious
noise
about
it
that
I
'd
have
been
to
send
'
em
all
back
to
'
em
.
But
when
a
gentleman
goes
and
puts
his
own
life
in
danger
to
save
a
drunken
brute
like
me
,
the
drunkenest
brute
as
ever
was
feels
grateful
like
to
that
gentleman
,
and
wishes
to
say
before
he
dies
—
which
he
sees
in
the
doctor
's
face
as
he
ai
n't
got
long
to
live
—
'
Thank
ye
,
sir
,
I
'm
obliged
to
you
.
"
Luke
Marks
stretched
out
his
left
hand
—
the
right
hand
had
been
injured
by
the
fire
,
and
was
wrapped
in
linen
—
and
groped
feebly
for
that
of
Mr.
Robert
Audley
.
The
young
man
took
the
coarse
but
shrunken
hand
in
both
his
own
,
and
pressed
it
cordially
.
"
I
need
no
thanks
,
Luke
Marks
,
"
he
said
;
"
I
was
very
glad
to
be
of
service
to
you
.
"
Mr.
Marks
did
not
speak
immediately
.
He
was
lying
quietly
upon
his
side
,
staring
reflectingly
at
Robert
Audley
.
"
You
was
oncommon
fond
of
that
gent
as
disappeared
at
the
Court
,
war
n't
you
,
sir
?
"
he
said
at
last
.
Robert
started
at
the
mention
of
his
dead
friend
.
"
You
was
oncommon
fond
of
that
Mr.
Talboys
,
I
've
heard
say
,
sir
,
"
repeated
Luke
.
"
Yes
,
yes
,
"
answered
Robert
,
rather
impatiently
,
"
he
was
my
very
dear
friend
.
"
"
I
've
heard
the
servants
at
the
Court
say
how
you
took
on
when
you
could
n't
find
him
.
I
've
heered
the
landlord
of
the
Sun
Inn
say
how
cut
up
you
was
when
you
first
missed
him
.
'
If
the
two
gents
had
been
brothers
,
'
the
landlord
said
,
'
our
gent
,
'
meanin
'
you
,
sir
,
'
could
n't
have
been
more
cut
up
when
he
missed
the
other
.
'
"
"
Yes
,
yes
,
I
know
,
I
know
,
"
said
Robert
;
"
pray
do
not
speak
any
more
of
this
subject
.
I
cannot
tell
you
how
much
it
distresses
me
.
"
Was
he
to
be
haunted
forever
by
the
ghost
of
his
unburied
friend
?
He
came
here
to
comfort
the
sick
man
,
and
even
here
he
was
pursued
by
this
relentless
shadow
;
even
here
he
was
reminded
of
the
secret
crime
which
had
darkened
his
life
.
"
Listen
to
me
,
Marks
,
"
he
said
,
earnestly
;
"
believe
me
that
I
appreciate
your
grateful
words
,
and
that
I
am
very
glad
to
have
been
of
service
to
you
.
But
before
you
say
anything
more
,
let
me
make
one
most
solemn
request
.
If
you
have
sent
for
me
that
you
may
tell
me
anything
of
the
fate
of
my
lost
friend
,
I
entreat
you
to
spare
yourself
and
to
spare
me
that
horrible
story
.
You
can
tell
me
nothing
which
I
do
not
already
know
.
The
worst
you
can
tell
me
of
the
woman
who
was
once
in
your
power
,
has
already
been
revealed
to
me
by
her
own
lips
.
Pray
,
then
,
be
silent
upon
this
subject
;
I
say
again
,
you
can
tell
me
nothing
which
I
do
not
know
.
"
Luke
Marks
looked
musingly
at
the
earnest
face
of
his
visitor
,
and
some
shadowy
expression
,
which
was
almost
like
a
smile
,
flitted
feebly
across
the
sick
man
's
haggard
features
.
"
I
ca
n't
tell
you
nothin
'
you
do
n't
know
?
"
he
asked
.
"
Nothing
.
"
"
Then
it
ai
n't
no
good
for
me
to
try
,
"
said
the
invalid
,
thoughtfully
.
"
Did
she
tell
you
?
"
he
asked
,
after
a
pause
.
"
I
must
beg
,
Marks
,
that
you
will
drop
the
subject
,
"
Robert
answered
,
almost
sternly
.
"
I
have
already
told
you
that
I
do
not
wish
to
hear
it
spoken
of
.
Whatever
discoveries
you
made
,
you
made
your
market
out
of
them
.
Whatever
guilty
secrets
you
got
possession
of
,
you
were
paid
for
keeping
silence
.
You
had
better
keep
silence
to
the
end
.
"
"
Had
I
?
"
cried
Luke
Marks
,
in
an
eager
whisper
.
"
Had
I
really
now
better
hold
my
tongue
to
the
last
?
"
"
I
think
so
,
most
decidedly
.
You
traded
on
your
secret
,
and
you
were
paid
to
keep
it
.
It
would
be
more
honest
to
hold
to
your
bargain
,
and
keep
it
still
.
"
"
Would
it
now
?
"
said
Mr.
Marks
with
a
ghastly
grin
;
"
but
suppose
my
lady
had
one
secret
and
I
another
.
How
then
?
"
"
What
do
you
mean
?
"
"
Suppose
I
could
have
told
something
all
along
;
and
would
have
told
it
,
perhaps
,
if
I
'd
been
a
little
better
treated
;
if
what
was
give
to
me
had
been
give
a
little
more
liberal
like
,
and
not
flung
at
me
as
if
I
was
a
dog
,
and
was
only
give
it
to
be
kep
'
from
bitin
'
.
Suppose
I
could
have
told
somethin
'
,
and
would
have
told
it
but
for
that
?
How
then
?
"
It
was
impossible
to
describe
the
ghastliness
of
the
triumphant
grin
that
lighted
up
the
sick
man
's
haggard
face
.
"
His
mind
is
wandering
,
"
Robert
thought
;
"
I
had
need
be
patient
with
him
,
poor
fellow
.
It
would
be
strange
if
I
could
not
be
patient
with
a
dying
man
.
"
Luke
marks
lay
staring
at
Mr.
Audley
for
some
moments
with
that
triumphant
grin
upon
his
face
.
The
old
woman
,
wearied
out
with
watching
her
dying
son
,
had
dropped
into
a
doze
,
and
sat
nodding
her
sharp
chin
over
the
handful
of
fire
,
upon
which
the
broth
that
was
never
to
be
eaten
,
still
bubbled
and
simmered
.
Mr.
Audley
waited
very
patiently
until
it
should
be
the
sick
man
's
pleasure
to
speak
.
Every
sound
was
painfully
distinct
in
that
dead
hour
of
the
night
.
The
dropping
of
the
ashes
on
the
hearth
,
the
ominous
crackling
of
the
burning
coals
,
the
slow
and
ponderous
ticking
of
the
sulky
clock
in
the
room
below
,
the
low
moaning
of
the
March
wind
(
which
might
have
been
the
voice
of
an
English
Banshee
,
screaming
her
dismal
warning
to
the
watchers
of
the
dying
)
,
the
hoarse
breathing
of
the
sick
man--every
sound
held
itself
apart
from
all
other
sounds
,
and
made
itself
into
a
separate
voice
,
loud
with
a
gloomy
portent
in
the
solemn
stillness
of
the
house
.
Robert
sat
with
his
face
shaded
by
his
hands
,
thinking
what
was
to
become
of
him
now
that
the
secret
of
his
friend
's
fate
had
been
told
,
and
the
dark
story
of
George
Talboys
and
his
wicked
wife
had
been
finished
in
the
Belgian
mad-house
.
What
was
to
become
of
him
?
He
had
no
claim
upon
Clara
Talboys
;
for
he
had
resolved
to
keep
the
horrible
secret
that
had
been
told
to
him
.
How
then
could
he
dare
to
meet
her
with
that
secret
held
back
fom
her
?
How
could
he
ever
look
into
her
earnest
eyes
,
and
yet
withhold
the
truth
?
He
felt
that
all
power
of
reservation
would
fail
before
the
searching
glance
of
those
calm
brown
eyes
.
If
he
was
indeed
to
keep
this
secret
he
must
never
see
her
again
.
To
reveal
it
would
be
to
embitter
her
life
.
Could
he
,
for
any
selfish
motive
of
his
own
,
tell
her
this
terrible
story
?
--or
could
he
think
that
if
he
told
her
she
would
suffer
her
murdered
brother
to
lie
unavenged
and
forgotten
in
his
unhallowed
grave
?
Hemmed
in
on
every
side
by
difficulties
which
seemed
utterly
insumountable
;
with
the
easy
temperament
which
was
natural
to
him
embittered
by
the
gloomy
burden
he
had
borne
so
long
,
Robert
Audley
looked
hopelessly
forward
to
the
life
which
lay
before
him
,
and
thought
that
it
would
have
been
better
for
him
had
he
perished
among
the
burning
ruins
of
the
Castle
Inn
.
"
Who
would
have
been
sorry
for
me
?
No
one
but
my
poor
little
Alicia
,
"
he
thought
,
"
and
hers
would
have
only
been
an
April
sorrow
.
Would
Clara
Talboys
have
been
sorry
?
No
!
She
would
have
only
regretted
me
as
a
lost
link
in
the
mystery
of
her
brother
's
death
.
She
would
only--
"
CHAPTER
XXXIX
.
THAT
WHICH
THE
DYING
MAN
HAD
TO
TELL
.
Heaven
knows
whither
Mr.
Audley
's
thoughts
might
have
wandered
had
he
not
been
startled
by
a
sudden
movement
of
the
sick
man
,
who
raised
himself
up
in
his
bed
,
and
called
to
his
mother
.
The
old
woman
woke
up
with
a
jerk
,
and
turned
sleepily
enough
to
look
at
her
son
.
"
What
is
it
,
Luke
,
deary
?
"
she
asked
soothingly
.
"
It
ai
n't
time
for
the
doctor
's
stuff
yet
.
Mr.
Dawson
said
as
you
were
n't
to
have
it
till
two
hours
after
he
went
away
,
and
he
ai
n't
been
gone
an
hour
yet
.
"
"
Who
said
it
was
the
doctor
's
stuff
I
wanted
?
"
cried
Mr.
Marks
,
impatiently
.
"
I
want
to
ask
you
something
,
mother
.
Do
you
remember
the
seventh
of
last
September
?
"
Robert
started
,
and
looked
eagerly
at
the
sick
man
.
Why
did
he
harp
upon
this
forbidden
subject
?
Why
did
he
insist
upon
recalling
the
date
of
George
's
murder
?
The
old
woman
shook
her
head
in
feeble
confusion
of
mind
.
"
Lord
,
Luke
,
"
she
said
,
"
how
can'ee
ask
me
such
questions
?
My
memory
's
been
a
failin
'
me
this
eight
or
nine
year
;
and
I
never
was
one
to
remember
the
days
of
the
month
,
or
aught
o
'
that
sort
.
How
should
a
poor
workin
'
woman
remember
such
things
.
"
Luke
Marks
shrugged
his
shoulders
impatiently
.
"
You
're
a
good
un
to
do
what
's
asked
you
,
mother
,
"
he
said
,
peevishly
.
"
Did
n't
I
tell
you
to
rememer
that
day
?
Did
n't
I
tell
you
as
the
time
might
come
when
you
'd
be
called
upon
to
bear
witness
about
it
,
and
put
upon
your
Bible
oath
about
it
?
Did
n't
I
tell
you
that
,
mother
?
"
The
old
woman
shook
her
head
hopelessly
.
"
If
you
say
so
,
I
make
no
doubt
you
did
,
Luke
,
"
she
said
,
with
a
conciliatory
smile
;
"
but
I
ca
n't
call
it
to
mind
,
lovey
.
My
memory
's
been
failin
'
me
this
nine
yaer
,
sir
,
"
she
added
,
turning
to
Robert
Audley
,
"
and
I
'm
but
a
poor
crittur
.
"
Mr.
Audley
laid
his
hand
upon
the
sick
man
's
arm
.
"
Marks
,
"
he
said
,
"
I
tell
you
again
,
you
have
no
cause
to
worry
yourself
about
this
matter
.
I
ask
you
no
questions
,
I
have
no
wish
to
hear
anything
.
"
"
But
,
suppose
I
want
to
tell
something
,
"
cried
Luke
,
with
feverish
energy
,
"
suppose
I
feel
I
ca
n't
die
with
a
secret
on
my
mind
,
and
have
asked
to
see
you
on
purpose
that
I
might
tell
you
;
suppose
that
,
and
you
'll
suppose
nothing
but
the
truth
.
I
'd
have
been
burnt
alive
before
I
'd
have
told
her
.
"
He
spoke
these
words
between
his
set
teeth
,
and
scowled
savagely
as
he
uttered
them
.
"
I
'd
have
been
burnt
alive
first
.
I
made
her
pay
for
her
pretty
insolent
ways
;
I
made
her
pay
for
her
airs
and
graces
;
I
'd
never
have
told
her
—
never
,
never
!
I
had
my
power
over
her
,
and
I
kept
it
;
I
had
my
secret
and
was
paid
for
it
;
and
there
was
n't
a
petty
slight
as
she
ever
put
upon
me
or
mine
that
I
did
n't
pay
her
out
for
twenty
times
over
!
"
"
Marks
,
Marks
,
for
Heaven
's
sake
be
calm
,
"
said
Robert
,
earnestly
.
"
What
are
you
talking
of
?
What
is
it
that
you
could
have
told
?
"
"
I
'm
a-goin
to
tell
you
,
"
answered
Luke
,
wiping
his
lips
.
"
Give
us
a
drink
,
mother
.
"
The
old
woman
poured
out
some
cooling
drink
into
a
mug
,
and
carried
it
to
her
son
.
He
drank
it
in
an
eager
hurry
,
as
if
he
felt
that
the
brief
remainder
of
his
life
must
be
a
race
with
the
pitiless
pedestrian
,
Time
.
"
Stop
where
you
are
,
"
he
said
to
his
mother
,
pointing
to
a
chair
at
the
foot
of
the
bed
.
The
old
woman
obeyed
,
and
seated
herself
meekly
opposite
to
Mr.
Audley
.
"
I
'll
ask
you
another
question
,
mother
,
"
said
Luke
,
"
and
I
think
it
'll
be
strange
if
you
ca
n't
answer
it
.
Do
you
remember
when
I
was
at
work
upon
Atkinson
's
farm
;
before
I
was
married
you
know
,
and
when
I
was
livin
'
down
here
along
of
you
?
"
"
Yes
,
yes
,
"
Mrs.
Marks
answered
,
nodding
triumphantly
,
"
I
remember
that
,
my
dear
.
It
were
last
fall
,
just
about
as
the
apples
was
bein
'
gathered
in
the
orchard
across
our
lane
,
and
about
the
time
as
you
had
your
new
sprigged
wesket
.
I
remember
,
Luke
,
I
remember
.
"
Mr.
Audley
wondered
where
all
this
was
to
lead
to
,
and
how
long
he
would
have
to
sit
by
the
sick
man
's
bed
,
hearing
a
conversation
that
had
no
meaning
to
him
.
"
If
you
remember
that
much
,
maybe
you
'll
remember
more
,
mother
,
"
said
Luke
.
"
Can
you
call
to
mind
my
bringing
some
one
home
here
one
night
,
while
Atkinsons
was
stackin
'
the
last
o
'
their
corn
?
"
Once
more
Mr.
Audley
started
violently
,
and
this
time
he
looked
up
earnestly
at
the
face
of
the
speaker
,
and
listened
,
with
a
strange
,
breathless
interest
,
that
he
scarcely
understood
himself
,
to
what
Luke
Marks
was
saying
.
"
I
rek'lect
your
bringing
home
Phoebe
,
"
the
old
woman
answered
,
with
great
animation
.
"
I
rek'lect
your
bringin
'
Phoebe
home
to
take
a
cup
o
'
tea
,
or
a
little
snack
o
'
supper
,
a
mort
o
'
times
.
"
"
Bother
Phoebe
,
"
cried
Mr.
Marks
,
"
who
's
a
talkin
'
of
Phoebe
?
What
's
Phoebe
,
that
anybody
should
go
to
put
theirselves
out
about
her
?
Do
you
remember
my
bringin
'
home
a
gentleman
after
ten
o'clock
,
one
September
night
;
a
gentleman
as
was
wet
through
to
the
skin
,
and
was
covered
with
mud
and
slush
,
and
green
slime
and
black
muck
,
from
the
crown
of
his
head
to
the
sole
of
his
foot
,
and
had
his
arm
broke
,
and
his
shoulder
swelled
up
awful
;
and
was
such
a
objeck
that
nobody
would
ha
'
knowed
him
;
a
gentleman
as
had
to
have
his
clothes
cut
off
him
in
some
places
,
and
as
sat
by
the
kitchen
fire
,
starin
'
at
the
coals
as
if
he
had
gone
mad
or
stupid-like
,
and
did
n't
know
where
he
was
,
or
who
he
was
;
and
as
had
to
be
cared
for
like
a
baby
,
and
dressed
,
and
dried
,
and
washed
,
and
fed
with
spoonfuls
of
brandy
,
that
had
to
be
forced
between
his
locked
teeth
,
before
any
life
could
be
got
into
him
?
Do
you
remember
that
,
mother
?
"
The
old
woman
nodded
,
and
muttered
something
to
the
effect
that
she
remembered
all
these
circumstances
most
vividly
,
now
that
Luke
happened
to
mention
them
.
Robert
Audley
uttered
a
wild
cry
,
and
fell
down
upon
his
knees
by
the
side
of
the
sick
man
's
bed
.
"
My
God
!
"
he
ejaculated
,
"
I
think
Thee
for
Thy
wondrous
mercies
.
George
Talboys
is
alive
!
"
"
Wait
a
bit
,
"
said
Mr.
Marks
,
"
do
n't
you
be
too
fast
.
Mother
,
give
us
down
that
tin
box
on
the
shelf
over
against
the
chest
of
drawers
,
will
you
?
"
The
old
woman
obeyed
,
and
after
fumbling
among
broken
teacups
and
milk-jugs
,
lidless
wooden
cotton-boxes
,
and
a
miscellaneous
litter
of
rags
and
crockery
,
produced
a
tin
snuff-box
with
a
sliding
lid
;
a
shabby
,
dirty-looking
box
enough
.
Robert
Audley
still
knelt
by
the
bedside
with
his
face
hidden
by
his
clasped
hands
.
Luke
Marks
opened
the
tin
box
.
"
There
ai
n't
no
money
in
it
,
more
's
the
pity
,
"
he
said
,
"
or
if
there
had
been
it
would
n't
have
been
let
stop
very
long
.
But
there
's
summat
in
it
that
perhaps
you
'll
think
quite
as
valliable
as
money
,
and
that
's
what
I
'm
goin
'
to
give
you
as
a
proof
that
a
drunken
brute
can
feel
thankful
to
them
as
is
kind
to
him
.
"
He
took
out
two
folded
papers
,
which
he
gave
into
Robert
Audley
's
hands
.
They
were
two
leaves
torn
out
of
a
pocket-book
,
and
they
were
written
upon
in
pencil
,
and
in
a
handwriting
that
was
quite
strange
to
Mr.
Audley
—
a
cramped
,
stiff
,
and
yet
scrawling
hand
,
such
as
some
plowman
might
have
written
.
"
I
do
n't
know
this
writing
,
"
Robert
said
,
as
he
eagerly
unfolded
the
first
of
the
two
papers
.
"
What
has
this
to
do
with
my
friend
?
Why
do
you
show
me
these
?
"
"
Suppose
you
read
'
em
first
,
"
said
Mr.
Marks
,
"
and
ask
me
questions
about
them
afterwards
.
"
The
first
paper
which
Robert
Audley
had
unfolded
contained
the
following
lines
,
written
in
that
cramped
,
yet
scrawling
hand
which
was
so
strange
to
him
:
"
MY
DEAR
FRIEND
—
I
write
to
you
in
such
utter
confusion
of
mind
as
perhaps
no
man
ever
before
suffered
.
I
cannot
tell
you
what
has
happened
to
me
,
I
can
only
tell
you
that
something
has
happened
which
will
drive
me
from
England
a
broken-hearted
man
,
to
seek
some
corner
of
the
earth
in
which
I
may
live
and
die
unknown
and
forgotten
.
I
can
only
ask
you
to
forget
me
.
If
your
friendship
could
have
done
me
any
good
,
I
would
have
appealed
to
it
.
If
your
counsel
could
have
been
any
help
to
me
,
I
would
have
confided
in
you
.
But
neither
friendship
nor
counsel
can
help
me
;
and
all
I
can
say
to
you
is
this
,
God
bless
you
for
the
past
,
and
teach
you
to
forget
me
in
the
future
.
G.T.
"
The
second
paper
was
addressed
to
another
person
,
and
its
contents
were
briefer
than
those
of
the
first
.
"
HELEN
—
May
God
pity
and
forgive
you
for
that
which
you
have
done
to-day
,
as
truly
as
I
do
.
Rest
in
peace
.
You
shall
never
hear
of
me
again
;
to
you
and
to
the
world
I
shall
henceforth
be
that
which
you
wished
me
to
be
to-day
.
You
need
fear
no
molestation
from
me
.
I
leave
England
never
to
return
.
"
G.T.
"
Robert
Audley
sat
staring
at
these
lines
in
hopeless
bewilderment
.
They
were
not
in
his
friend
's
familiar
hand
,
and
yet
they
purported
to
be
written
by
him
and
were
signed
with
his
initials
.
He
looked
scrutinizingly
at
the
face
of
Luke
Marks
,
thinking
that
perhaps
some
trick
was
being
played
upon
him
.
"
This
was
not
written
by
George
Talboys
,
"
he
said
.
"
It
was
,
"
answered
Luke
Marks
,
"
it
was
written
by
Mr.
Talboys
,
every
line
of
it
.
He
wrote
it
with
his
own
hand
;
but
it
was
his
left
hand
,
for
he
could
n't
use
his
right
because
of
his
broken
arm
.
"
Robert
Audley
looked
up
suddenly
,
and
the
shadow
of
suspicion
passed
away
from
his
face
.
"
I
understand
,
"
he
said
,
"
I
understand
.
Tell
me
all
;
tell
me
how
it
was
that
my
poor
friend
was
saved
.
"
"
I
was
at
work
up
at
Atkinson
's
farm
,
last
September
,
"
said
Luke
Marks
,
"
helping
to
stack
the
last
of
the
corn
,
and
as
the
nighest
way
from
the
farm
to
mother
's
cottage
was
through
the
meadows
at
the
back
of
the
Court
,
I
used
to
come
that
way
,
and
Phoebe
used
to
stand
in
the
garden
wall
beyond
the
lime-walk
sometimes
,
to
have
a
chat
with
me
,
knowin
'
my
time
o
'
comin
'
home
.
"
I
do
n't
know
what
Phoebe
was
a-doin
'
upon
the
evenin
'
of
the
seventh
o
'
September
—
I
rek'lect
the
date
because
Farmer
Atkinson
paid
me
my
wages
all
of
a
lump
on
that
day
,
and
I
'd
had
to
sign
a
bit
of
a
receipt
for
the
money
he
give
me
—
I
do
n't
know
what
she
was
a-doin
'
,
but
she
war
n't
at
the
gate
agen
the
lime-walk
,
so
I
went
round
to
the
other
side
o
'
the
gardens
and
jumped
across
the
dry
ditch
,
for
I
wanted
partic'ler
to
see
her
that
night
,
as
I
was
goin
'
away
to
work
upon
a
farm
beyond
Chelmsford
the
next
day
.
Audley
church
clock
struck
nine
as
I
was
crossin
'
the
meadows
between
Atkinson
's
and
the
Court
,
and
it
must
have
been
about
a
quarter
past
nine
when
I
got
into
the
kitchen
garden
.
"
I
crossed
the
garden
,
and
went
into
the
lime-walk
;
the
nighest
way
to
the
servants
'
hall
took
me
through
the
shrubbery
and
past
the
dry
well
.
It
was
a
dark
night
,
but
I
knew
my
way
well
enough
about
the
old
place
,
and
the
light
in
the
window
of
the
servants
'
hall
looked
red
and
comfortable
through
the
darkness
.
I
was
close
against
the
mouth
of
the
dry
well
when
I
heard
a
sound
that
made
my
blood
creep
.
It
was
a
groan
—
a
groan
of
a
man
in
pain
,
as
was
lyin
'
somewhere
hid
among
the
bushes
.
I
war
n't
afraid
of
ghosts
and
I
war
n't
afraid
of
anythink
in
a
general
way
,
but
there
was
somethin
in
hearin
'
this
groan
as
chilled
me
to
the
very
heart
,
and
for
a
minute
I
was
struck
all
of
a
heap
,
and
did
n't
know
what
to
do
.
But
I
heard
the
groan
again
,
and
then
I
began
to
search
among
the
bushes
.
I
found
a
man
lyin
'
hidden
under
a
lot
o
'
laurels
,
and
I
thought
at
first
he
was
up
to
no
good
,
and
I
was
a-goin
'
to
collar
him
to
take
him
to
the
house
,
when
he
caught
me
by
the
wrist
without
gettin
'
up
from
the
ground
,
but
lookin
'
at
me
very
earnest
,
as
I
could
see
by
the
way
his
face
was
turned
toward
me
in
the
darkness
,
and
asked
me
who
I
was
,
and
what
I
was
,
and
what
I
had
to
do
with
the
folks
at
the
Court
.
"
There
was
somethin
'
in
the
way
he
spoke
that
told
me
he
was
a
gentleman
,
though
I
did
n't
know
him
from
Adam
,
and
could
n't
see
his
face
;
and
I
answered
his
questions
civil
.
"
'
I
want
to
get
away
from
this
place
,
'
he
said
,
'
without
bein
'
seen
by
any
livin
'
creetur
,
remember
that
.
I
've
been
lyin
'
here
ever
since
four
o'clock
to-day
,
and
I
'm
half
dead
,
but
I
want
to
get
away
without
bein
'
seen
,
mind
that
.
'
"
I
told
him
that
was
easy
enough
,
but
I
began
to
think
my
first
thoughts
of
him
might
have
been
right
enough
,
after
all
,
and
that
he
could
n't
have
been
up
to
no
good
to
want
to
sneak
away
so
precious
quiet
.
"
'
Can
you
take
me
to
any
place
where
I
can
get
a
change
of
dry
clothes
,
'
he
says
,
'
without
half
a
dozen
people
knowin
'
it
?
'
"
He
'd
got
up
into
a
sittin
'
attitude
by
this
time
,
and
I
could
see
that
his
right
arm
hung
close
by
his
side
,
and
that
he
was
in
pain
.
"
I
pointed
to
his
arm
,
and
asked
him
what
was
the
matter
with
it
;
but
he
only
answered
,
very
quiet
like
:
'
Broken
,
my
lad
,
broken
.
Not
that
that
's
much
,
'
he
says
in
another
tone
,
speaking
to
himself
like
,
more
than
to
me
.
'
There
's
broken
hearts
as
well
as
broken
limbs
,
and
they
're
not
so
easy
mended
.
'
"
I
told
him
I
could
take
him
to
mother
's
cottage
,
and
that
he
could
dry
his
clothes
there
and
welcome
.
"
'
Can
your
mother
keep
a
secret
?
'
he
asked
.
"
'
Well
,
she
could
keep
one
well
enough
if
she
could
remember
it
,
'
I
told
him
;
'
but
you
might
tell
her
all
the
secrets
of
the
Freemasons
,
and
Foresters
,
and
Buffalers
and
Oddfellers
as
ever
was
,
to-night
:
and
she
'd
have
forgotten
all
about
'
em
to-morrow
mornin
'
