the captives-第5章

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The　house　that　night　was　very　strange　with　her　father　dead　in　it。　She　sat；　because　she　thought　it　her　duty；　in　his　bedroom。　He　lay　on　his　bed；　with　his　beard　carefully　combed　and　brushed　now；　spread　out　upon　the　sheet。　His　closed　eyes　and　mouth　gave　him　a　grave　and　reverend　appearance　which　he　had　never　worn　in　his　life。　He　lay　there；　under　the　flickering　candle…light；　like　some　saint　who　at　length；　after　a　life　of　severe　discipline；　had　entered　into　the　joy　of　his　Lord。　Beneath　the　bed　was　the　big　black　box。

Maggie　did　not　look　at　her　father。　She　sat　there；　near　the　dark　window；　her　hands　folded　on　her　lap。　She　thought　of　nothing　at　all　except　the　rats。　She　was　not　afraid　of　them　but　they　worried　her。　They　had　been　a　trouble　in　the　house　for　a　long　time　past；　poison　had　been　laid　for　them　and　they　had　refused　to　take　it。　They　had　had；　perhaps；　some　fear　of　the　Reverend　Charles；　at　any　rate　they　scampered　and　scurried　now　behind　the　wainscoting　as　though　conscious　of　their　release。　〃Even　the　rats　are　glad；〃　Maggie　thought　to　herself。　In　the　uncertain　candle…light　the　fancy　seized　her　that　one　rat；　a　very　large　one；　had　crept　out　from　his　hole；　crawled　on　to　the　bed；　and　now　sat　on　the　sheet　looking　at　her　father。　It　would　be　a　horrible　thing　did　the　rat　walk　across　her　father's　beard；　and　yet　for　her　life　she　could　not　move。　She　waited；　fascinated。　She　fancied　that　the　beard　stirred　a　little　as　though　the　rat　had　moved　it。　She　fancied　that　the　rat　grew　and　grew　in　size；　now　there　were　many　of　them；　all　with　their　little　sharp　beady　eyes　watching　the　corpse。　Now　there　were　none；　only　the　large　limbs　outlined　beneath　the　spread；　the　waxen　face；　the　ticking　clock；　the　strange　empty　shape　of　his　grey　dressing…gown　hanging　upon　a　nail　on　the　wall。　Where　was　her　father　gone？　She　did　not　know；　she　did　not　careonly　she　trusted　that　she　would　never　meet　him　againnever　again。　Her　head　nodded；　her　hands　and　feet　were　cold；　the　candle…light　jumped；　the　rats　scampered　。　。　。　she　slept。

When　it　was　quite　dark　beyond　the　windows　and　the　candles　were　low　Maggie　came　downstairs；　stiff；　cold；　and　very　hungry。　She　felt　that　it　was　wrong　to　have　slept　and　very　wrong　to　be　hungry；　but　there　it　was；　she　did　not　pretend　to　herself　that　things　were　other　than　they　were。　In　the　dining…room　she　found　supper　laid　out　upon　the　table；　cold　beef；　potatoes　in　their　jackets；　cold　beetroot；　jelly；　and　cheese；　and　her　uncle　playing　cards　on　the　unoccupied　end　of　the　table　in　a　melancholy　manner　by　himself。　She　felt　that　it　was　wrong　of　him　to　play　cards　on　such　an　occasion；　but　the　cards　were　such　dirty　grey　ones　and　he　obtained　obviously　so　little　pleasure　from　his　amusement　that　he　could　not　be　considered　to　be　wildly　abandoning　himself　to　riot　and　extravagance。

She　felt　pleasure　in　his　company；　for　the　first　time　since　her　father's　death　she　was　a　little　frightened　and　uneasy。　She　might　even　have　gone　to　him　and　cried　on　his　shoulder　had　he　given　her　any　encouragement；　but　he　did　not　speak　to　her　except　to　say　that　he　had　already　eaten。　He　was　still　a　little　sulky　with　her。

When　she　had　finished　her　meal　she　sat　in　her　accustomed　chair　by　the　fire；　her　head　propped　on　her　hands；　looking　into　the　flame；　and　there；　half…asleep；　half…awake；　memories；　conversations；　long…　vanished　scenes　trooped　before　her　eyes　as　though　they　were　bidding　her　a　long　farewell。　She　did　not；　as　she　sat　there；　sentimentalise　about　any　of　them；　she　saw　them　as　they　were；　some　happy；　some　unhappy；　some　terrifying；　some　amusing；　all　of　them　dead　and　passed；　grey　and　thin；　the　life　gone　out　of　them。　Her　mind　was　fixed　on　the　future。　What　was　it　going　to　be？　Would　she　have　money　as　her　uncle　had　said？　Would　she　see　London　and　the　world？　Would　she　find　friends；　people　who　would　be　glad　to　be　with　her　and　have　her　with　them？　What　would　her　aunts　be　like？　and　so　from　them；　what　about　all　the　other　members　of　the　family　of　whom　she　had　heard？　She　painted　for　herself　a　gay　scene　in　which；　at　the　door　of　some　great　house；　a　fine　gathering　of　Cardinals　waited　with　smiles　and　outstretched　hands　to　welcome　her。　Then；　laughing　at　herself　as　she　always　did　when　she　had　allowed　her　fancy　free　rein；　she　shook　her　head。　No；　it　certainly　would　not　be　like　that。　Relations　were　not　like　that。　That　was　not　the　way　to　face　the　world　to　encourage　romantic　dreams。　Her　uncle；　watching　her　surreptitiously；　wondered　of　what　she　was　thinking。　Her　determined　treatment　of　him　that　afternoon　continued　to　surprise　him。　She　certainly　ought　to　make　her　way　in　the　world；　but　what　a　pity　that　she　was　so　plain。　Perhaps　if　she　got　some　colour　into　her　cheeks；　dressed　better；　brushed　her　hair　differentlyno；　her　mouth　would　always　be　too　large　and　her　nose　too　smalland　her　figure　was　absurd。　Uncle　Mathew　considered　that　he　was　a　judge　of　women。

He　rose　at　last　and；　rather　shamefacedly；　said　that　he　should　go　to　bed。　Maggie　wondered　at　the　confusion　that　she　detected　in　him。　She　looked　at　him　and　he　dropped　his　eyes。

〃Good　night；　Uncle　Mathew。〃

He　looked　at　her　then　and　noticed　by　her　white　face　and　dark…lined　eyes　what　a　strain　the　day　had　been　to　her。　He　saw　again　the　figure　in　the　shabby　black　hat　sobbing　in　the　lane。　He　suddenly　put　his　arms　about　her　and　held　her　close　to　him。　She　noticed　that　he　smelled　of　whisky；　but　she　felt　his　kindness；　and　putting　her　hand　on　his　fat　shoulder　kissed　once　more　his　cheek。

When　he　had　left　her；　her　weariness　came　suddenly　down　upon　her；　overwhelming　her　as　though　the　roof　had　fallen　in。　The　lamp　swelled　before　her　tired　eyes　as　though　it　had　been　an　evil；　unhealthy　flower。　The　table　slid　into　the　chairs　and　the　cold　beef　leered　at　the　jelly；　the　pictures　jumped　and　the　clock　ran　in　a　mad　scurry　backwards　and　forwards。

She　dragged　her　dazed　body　up　through　the　silent　house　to　her　bedroom；　undressed；　was　instantly　in　bed　and　asleep。

She　slept　without　dreams　but　woke　suddenly　as　though　she　had　been　flung　into　the　midst　of　one。　She　sat　up　in　bed；　knowing　from　the　thumping　of　her　heart　that　she　was　seized　with　panic　but　finding；　in　the　first　flash；　no　reason　for　her　alarm。　The　room　was　pitch　black　with　shadows　of　light　here　and　there；　but　she　had　with　her；　in　the　confusion　of　her　sleep；　uncertainty　as　to　the　different　parts　of　the　room。　What　had　awakened　her？　Of　what　was　she　frightened？　Then　suddenly；　as　one　slits　a　black　screen　with　a　knife；　a　thin　line　of　light　cracked　the　darkness。　As　though　some　one　had　whispered　it　in　her　ear　she　knew　that　the　door　was　there　and　the　dark　well　of　uncertainty　into　which　she　had　been　plunged　was　suddenly　changed　into　her　own　room　where　she　could　recognise　the　window；　the　chest　of　drawers；　the　looking…glass；　the　chairs。　Some　one　was　opening　her　door　and　her　first　thought　that　it　was　of　course　her　father　was　checked　instantly　by　the　knowledge；　conveyed　again　as　though　some　one　had　whispered　to　her；　that　her　father　was　dead。

The　thin　line　of　light　was　now　a　wedge；　it　wavered；　drew　back　to　a　spider's　thread　again；　then　broadened　with　a　flush　of　colour　into　a　streaming　path。　Some　one　stood　in　the　doorway　holding　a　candle。　Maggie　saw　that　it　was　Uncle　Mathew　in　his　shirt　and　trousers。

〃What　is　it？〃　she　said。

He　swayed　as　he　stood　there；　his　candle　making　fantastic　leaps　and　shallows　of　light。　He　was　smiling　at　her　in　a　silly　way　and　she　saw　that　he　was　drunk。　She　had　had　a　horror　of　drunkenness　ever　since；　as　a　little　girl；　she　had　watched　an　inebriated　carter　kicking　his　wife。　She　always；　after　that；　saw　the　woman's　bent　head　and　stooping　shoulders。　Now　she　knew；　sitting　up　in　bed；　that　she　was　frightened　not　only　of　Uncle　Mathew；　but　of　the　house；　of　the　whole　world。

She　was　alone。　She　realised　her　loneliness　in　a　great　flash　of　bewilderment　and　cold　terror　as　though　the　ground　had　suddenly　broken　away　from　her　and　she　was　on　the　edge　of　a　vast　pit。　There　was　no　one　in　the　house　to　help　her。　Her　father　was　dead。　The　cook　and　the　maid　were　sunk　in　heavy　slumber　at　the　other　end　of　the　house。　There　was　no　one　to　help　her。　She　was　alone；　and　it　seemed　to　her　that　in　the　shock　of　that　discovery　she　realised　that　she　would　always　be　alone　now；　for　the　rest　of　her　life。

〃What　is　it；　Uncle　Mathew？〃　she　said　again。　Her　voice　w