armadale-第14章
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hands。 〃Is that a bad sign？〃 he asked。
The doctor bent his head gravely。 〃Put your question at once；〃 he
repeated； 〃or you may be too late。〃
Mr。 Neal held the letter before the eyes of the dying man 〃Do you
know what this is？〃
〃My letter。〃
〃Do you insist on my posting it？〃
He mastered his failing speech for the last time； and gave the
answer： 〃Yes！〃
Mr。 Neal moved to the door； with the letter in his hand。 The
German followed him a few steps； opened his lips to plead for a
longer delay； met the Scotchman's inexorable eye； and drew back
again in silence。 The door closed and parted them； without a word
having passed on either side。
The doctor went back to the bed and whispered to the sinking man：
〃Let me call him back； there is time to stop him yet！〃 It was
useless。 No answer came； nothing showed that he heeded； or even
heard。 His eyes wandered from the child； rested for a moment on
his own struggling hand； and looked up entreatingly in the
compassionate face that bent over him。 The doctor lifted the
hand； paused； followed the father's longing eyes back to the
child； and； interpreting his last wish； moved the hand gently
toward the boy's head。 The hand touched it； and trembled
violently。 In another instant the trembling seized on the arm；
and spread over the whole upper part of the body。 The face turned
from pale to red； from red to purple； from purple to pale again。
Then the toiling hands lay still； and the shifting color changed
no more。
The window of the next room was open； when the doctor entered it
from the death chamber； with the child in
his arms。 He looked out as he passed by； and saw Mr。 Neal in the
street below； slowly returning to the inn。
〃Where is the letter？〃 he asked。
Three words sufficed for the Scotchman's answer。
〃In the post。〃
THE END OF THE PROLOGUE。
THE STORY。
_BOOK THE FIRST。_
CHAPTER I。
THE MYSTERY OF OZIAS MIDWINTER。
ON a warm May night； in the year eighteen hundred and fifty…one；
the Reverend Decimus Brockat that time a visitor to the Isle of
Manretired to his bedroom at Castletown； with a serious
personal responsibility in close pursuit of him； and with no
distinct idea of the means by which he might relieve himself from
the pressure of his present circumstances。
The clergyman had reached that mature period of human life at
which a sensible man learns to decline （as often as his temper
will let him） all useless conflict with the tyranny of his own
troubles。 Abandoning any further effort to reach a decision in
the emergency that now beset him； Mr。 Brock sat down placidly in
his shirt sleeves on the side of his bed； and applied his mind to
consider next whether the emergency itself was as serious as he
had hitherto been inclined to think it。 Following this new way
out of his perplexities； Mr。 Brock found himself unexpectedly
traveling to the end in view by the least inspiriting of all
human journeysa journey through the past years of his own life。
One by one the events of those yearsall connected with the same
little group of characters； and all more or less answerable for
the anxiety which was now intruding itself between the clergyman
and his night's restrose； in progressive series； on Mr。 Brock's
memory。 The first of the series took him back； through a period
of fourteen years； to his own rectory on the Somersetshire shores
of the Bristol Channel； and closeted him at a private interview
with a lady who had paid him a visit in the character of a total
stranger to the parson and the place。
The lady's complexion was fair； the lady's figure was well
preserved； she was still a young woman； and she looked even
younger than her age。 There was a shade of melancholy in her
expression； and an undertone of suffering in her voiceenough；
in each case； to indicate that she had known trouble； but not
enough to obtrude that trouble on the notice of others。 She
brought with her a fine； fair…haired boy of eight years old； whom
she presented as her son； and who was sent out of the way； at the
beginning of the interview； to amuse himself in the rectory
garden。 Her card had preceded her entrance into the study； and
had announced her under the name of 〃Mrs。 Armadale。〃 Mr。 Brock
began to feel interested in her before she had opened her lips；
and when the son had been dismissed； he awaited with some anxiety
to hear what the mother had to say to him。
Mrs。 Armadale began by informing the rector that she was a widow。
Her husband had perished by shipwreck a short time after their
union； on the voyage from Madeira to Lisbon。 She had been brought
to England； after her affliction； under her father's protection；
and her childa posthumous sonhad been born on the family
estate in Norfolk。 Her father's death； shortly afterward； had
deprived her of her only surviving parent； and had exposed her to
neglect and misconstruction on the part of her remaining
relatives （two brothers）； which had estranged her from them； she
feared； for the rest of her days。 For some time past she had
lived in the neighboring county of Devonshire； devoting herself
to the education of her boy； who had now reached an age at which
he required other than his mother's teaching。 Leaving out of the
question her own unwillingness to part with him； in her solitary
position； she was especially anxious that he should not be thrown
among strangers by being sent to school。 Her darling project was
to bring him up privately at home； and to keep him； as he
advanced in years； from all contact with the temptations and the
dangers of the world。
With these objects in view； her longer sojourn in her own
locality （where the services of the resident clergyman； in the
capacity of tutor； were not obtainable） must come to an end。 She
had made inquiries； had heard of a house that would suit her in
Mr。 Brock's neighborhood； and had also been told that Mr。 Brock
himself had formerly been in the habit of taking pupils。
Possessed of this information； she had ventured to present
herself； with references that vouched for her respectability； but
without a formal introduction； and she had now to ask whether （in
the event of her residing in the neighborhood） any terms that
could be offered would induce Mr。 Brock to open his doors once
more to a pupil； and to allow that pupil to be her son。
If Mrs。 Armadale had been a woman of no personal attractions； or
if Mr。 Brock had been provided with an intrenchment to fight
behind in the shape of a wife； it is probable that the widow's
journey might have been taken in vain。 As things really were； the
rector examined the references which were offered to him； and
asked time for consideration。 When the time had expired； he did
what Mrs。 Armadale wished him to dohe offered his back to the
burden； and let the mother load him with the responsibility of
the son。
This was the first event of the series； the date of it being the
year eighteen hundred and thirty…seven。 Mr。 Brock's memory；
traveling forward toward the present from that point； picked up
the second event in its turn； and stopped next at the year
eighteen hundred and forty…five。
…
The fishing…village on the Somersetshire coast was still the
scene； and the characters were once againMrs。 Armadale and her
son。
Through the eight years that had passed； Mr。 Brock's
responsibility had rested on him lightly enough。 The boy had
given his mother and his tutor but little trouble。 He was
certainly slow over his books； but more from a constitutional
inability to fix his attention on his tasks than from want of
capacity to understand them。 His temperament； it could not be
denied； was heedless to the last degree： he acted recklessly on
his first impulses； and rushed blindfold at all his conclusions。
On the other hand； it was to be said in his favor that his
disposition was open as the day； a more generous； affectionate；
sweet…tempered lad it would have been hard to find anywhere。 A
certain quaint originality of character； and a natural
healthiness in all his tastes； carried him free of most of the
dangers to which his mother's system of education inevitably
exposed him。 He had a thoroughly English
