Читать книгу The Haunted Hotel / Отель с привидениями - Уилки Коллинз, Elizabeth Cleghorn - Страница 3

‘It is one fact, sir, that I am a widow,’ she said. ‘It is another fact, that I am going to be married again.’

There she paused, and smiled. Doctor Wybrow was not favourably impressed by her smile – there was something at once sad and cruel in it. It came slowly, and it went away suddenly. He began to doubt whether he was wise to listen to her.

The lady went on.

‘My approaching marriage,’ she said, ‘has one embarrassing circumstance connected with it. The gentleman whose wife I am to be, was engaged to another lady when he met with me, abroad: that lady was of his own blood and family, and related to him as his cousin. I have innocently robbed her of her lover, and destroyed her prospects in life. Innocently, I say – because he told me nothing of his engagement. When we next met in England, he told me the truth. I was naturally indignant. He showed me a letter from the lady herself, she was releasing him from his engagement. A noble letter! I cried over it. But the firmness of it – without anger, without a word of reproach – left him no hope. He appealed to my compassion; he appealed to his love for me. You know what women are. I said: yes! In a week more (I tremble as I think of it) we are to be married.’

She really trembled – she paused, before she could go on. The Doctor was waiting for more facts.

‘Excuse me, but I have suffering persons waiting to see me,’ he said. ‘The sooner you can come to the point, the better for my patients and for me.’

The strange smile showed itself again on the lady’s lips.

‘Every word I say is to the point,’ she answered. ‘You will see it yourself.’

She resumed her narrative.

‘Yesterday I was among the visitors at a party. A lady came in late. She took a chair near me; and we were presented to each other. I knew her by name, as she knew me. It was the woman whom I had robbed of her lover, the woman who had written the noble letter. Now listen! I admired her. This is very important, as you will see. On her side, I think that she understood I was not to blame. Now, explain to me, if you can, why, when I rose and met that woman’s eyes, I turned cold from head to foot, and shuddered, and shivered, and knew what a deadly panic of fear was, for the first time in my life.’

‘Was there anything remarkable in the lady’s personal appearance?’ the Doctor asked.

‘Nothing!’ was the vehement reply. ‘Here is the true description of her: the ordinary English lady; the clear cold blue eyes, the fine rosy complexion, the inanimately polite manner, the large good-humoured mouth, the too plump cheeks and chin: these, and nothing more.’

‘Was there anything strange in her expression, when you first looked at her?’

‘There was natural curiosity to see me; and perhaps some astonishment also. But if I could get to the door, I would run out of the room, she frightened me so! I was not even able to stand up – I sank back in my chair; I stared at the calm blue eyes that were only looking at me with a gentle surprise. To say they affected me like the eyes of a serpent is to say nothing. I felt her soul in them. That woman is destined to be the evil genius of my life. She said, “I am afraid the heat of the room is too much for you; will you try my smelling bottle[5]?” I heard those kind words; and I remember nothing else – I fainted. When I recovered my senses, the company had all gone; only the lady of the house was with me. For the moment I could say nothing to her. As soon I could speak, I implored her to tell me the whole truth about that woman. The had been her friend from her girlhood, they were like sisters. She knew her positively to be as good, as innocent, as the greatest saint that ever lived. But I felt an ordinary forewarning of danger in the presence of an enemy. I went next to the man whom I am to marry. I implored him to release me from my promise. He refused. I declared I would break my engagement. He showed me letters from his sisters, letters from his brothers, and his dear friends-all entreating him to think again before he made me his wife. All repeating reports of me[6] in Paris, Vienna, and London, which are vile lies. “If you refuse to marry me,” he said, “you admit that these reports are true.” What could I answer? He was plainly right: if I persisted in my refusal, the utter destruction of my reputation would be the result. The night has passed. I am here, with my conviction that innocent woman has a fatal influence over my life. I am here with the question. Sir, what am I – a demon who has seen the avenging angel? or only a poor mad woman with a deranged mind?’

Doctor Wybrow rose from his chair. He was strongly and painfully impressed by what he had heard. The conviction of the woman’s wickedness forced itself on him. He tried vainly to think of her as a person with a morbidly sensitive imagination; the effort was beyond him.

‘I have already given you my opinion,’ he said. ‘As for the impressions you have confided to me, I can only say that your case is more spiritual than medical. Of course you can be sure: what you have said to me in this room will not pass out of it. Your confession is safe.’

‘Is that all?’ she asked.

‘That is all,’ he answered.

She put some money on the table.

‘Thank you, sir. There is your fee.’

With those words she rose. The Doctor turned away his head, he did not want to take anything from her.

‘Take it back; I don’t want my fee,’ he said.

She did not hear him. She said slowly to herself,

‘Let the end come. I submit.’

She drew her veil over her face, bowed to the Doctor, and left the room.

He rang the bell, and followed her into the hall. As the servant closed the door, a sudden impulse of curiosity sprang up in the Doctor’s mind. He said to the servant,

‘Follow her, and find out her name.’

The servant took his hat and hurried into the street.

The Doctor went back to the consulting-room. Had the woman left an infection of wickedness in the house? He ran out into the hall again, and opened the door. The servant had disappeared; it was too late to call him back. But one refuge was now open to him – the refuge of work. He got into his carriage and went his rounds among his patients.

In the evening the servant reported the result of his errand.

‘The lady’s name is the Countess Narona. She lives at-’

The Doctor entered his consulting-room. The fee still lay on the table. He sealed it up in an envelope and addressed it to the ‘Poor-box’[7]. The servant asked,

‘Do you dine at home today, sir?’

After a moment’s hesitation he said, ‘No: I’ll dine at the club.’

Doctor Wybrow wanted to hear what the world said of the Countess Narona.