armadale-第201章

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the　suburb。　She　found　herself　following　the　faint　sound　as　it
died　away　into　silence　with　a　dull　attention；　and　listening　for
its　coming　again　with　an　expectation　that　was　duller　still。　Her
arms　lay　like　lead　on　the　window…sill；　her　forehead　rested
against　the　glass　without　feeling　the　cold。　It　was　not　till　the
moon　struggled　out　again　that　she　was　startled　into　sudden
self…remembrance。　She　turned　quickly；　and　looked　at　the　clock；
seven　minutes　had　passed　since　the　second　Pouring。

As　she　snatched　up　the　Flask；　and　fed　the　funnel　for　the　third
time；　the　full　consciousness　of　her　position　came　back　to　her。
The　fever…heat　throbbed　again　in　her　blood；　and　flushed　fiercely
in　her　cheeks。　Swift；　smooth；　and　noiseless；　she　paced　from　end
to　end　of　the　corridor；　with　her　arms　folded　in　her　shawl　and　her
eye　moment　after　moment　on　the　clock。

Three　out　of　the　next　five　minutes　passed；　and　again　the　suspense
began　to　madden　her。　The　space　in　the　corridor　grew　too　confined
for　the　illimitable　restlessness　that　possessed　her　limbs。　She
went　down　into　the　hall　again；　and　circled　round　and　round　it
like　a　wild　creature　in　a　cage。　At　the　third　turn；　she　felt
something　moving　softly　against　her　dress。　The　house…cat　had　come
up　through　the　open　kitchen　doora　large；　tawny；　companionable
cat　that　purred　in　high　good　temper；　and　followed　her　for
company。　She　took　the　animal　up　in　her　armsit　rubbed　its　sleek
head　luxuriously　against　her　chin　as　she　bent　her　face　over　it。
〃Armadale　hates　cats；〃　she　whispered　in　the　creature's　ear。　〃Come
up　and　see　Armadale　killed！〃　The　next　moment　her　own　frightful
fancy　horrified　her。　She　dropped　the　cat　with　a　shudder；　she
drove　it　below　again　with　threatening　hands。　For　a　moment　after；
she　stood　still；　then　in　headlong　haste　suddenly　mounted　the
stairs。　Her　husband　had　forced　his　way　back　again　into　her
thoughts；　her　husband　threatened　her　with　a　danger　which　had
never　entered　her　mind　till　now。　What　if　he　were　not　asleep？　What
if　he　came　out　upon　her；　and　found　her　with　the　Purple　Flask　in
her　hand？

She　stole　to　the　door　of　Number　Three　and　listened。　The　slow；
regular　breathing　of　a　sleeping　man　was　just　audible。　After
waiting　a　moment　to　let　the　feeling　of　relief　quiet　her；　she　took
a　step　toward　Number　Four；　and　checked　herself。　It　was　needless
to　listen　at　_that_　door。　The　doctor　had　told　her　that　Sleep　came
first；　as　certainly　as　Death　afterward；　in　the　poisoned　air。　She
looked　aside　at　the　clock。　The　time　had　come　for　the　fourth
Pouring。

Her　hand　began　to　tremble　violently　as　she　fed　the　funnel　for　the
fourth　time。　The　fear　of　her　husband　was　back　again　in　her　heart。
What　if　some　noise　disturbed　him　before　the　sixth　Pouring？　What
if　he　woke　on　a　sudden　（as　she　had　often　seen　him　wake）　without
any　noise　at　all？　She　looked　up　and　down　the　corridor。　The　end
room；　in　which　Mr。　Bashwood　had　been　concealed；　offered　itself　to
her　as　a　place　of　refuge。　〃I　might　go　in　there！〃　she　thought。
〃Has　he　left　the　key？〃　She　opened　the　door　to　look；　and　saw　the
handkerchief　thrown　down　on　the　floor。　Was　it　Mr。　Bashwood's
handkerchief；　left　there　by　accident？　She　examined　it　at　the
corners。　In　the　second　corner　she　found　her　husband's　name！

Her　first　impulse　hurried　her　to　the　staircase　door；　to　rouse　the
steward　and　insist　on　an　explanation。　The　next　moment　she
remembered　the　Purple　Flask；　and　the　danger　of　leaving　the
corridor。　She　turned；　and　looked　at　the　door　of　Number　Three。　Her
husband；　on　the　evidence　of　the　handkerchief；　had　unquestionably
been　out　of　his　roomand　Mr。　Bashwood　had　not　told　her。　Was　he
in　his　room　now？　In　the　violence　of　her　agitation；　as　the
question　passed　through　her　mind；　she　forgot　the　discovery　which
she　had　herself　made　not　a　minute　before。　Again　she　listened　at
the　door；　again　she　heard　the　slow；
　regular　breathing　of　the　sleeping　man。　The　first　time　the
evidence　of　her　ears　had　been　enough　to　quiet　her；　_this_　time；
in　the　tenfold　aggravation　of　her　suspicion　and　her　alarm；　she
was　determined　to　have　the　evidence　of　her　eyes　as　well。　〃All　the
doors　open　softly　in　this　house；〃　she　said　to　herself；　〃there's
no　fear　of　my　waking　him。〃　Noiselessly；　by　an　inch　at　a　time；　she
opened　the　unlocked　door；　and　looked　in　the　moment　the　aperture
was　wide　enough。　In　the　little　light　she　had　let　into　the　room；
the　sleeper's　head　was　just　visible　on　the　pillow。　Was　it　quite
as　dark　against　the　white　pillow　as　her　husband's　head　looked
when　he　was　in　bed？　Was　the　breathing　as　light　as　her　husband's
breathing　when　he　was　asleep？

She　opened　the　door　more　widely；　and　looked　in　by　the　clearer
light。

There　lay　the　man　whose　life　she　had　attempted　for　the　third
time；　peacefully　sleeping　in　the　room　that　had　been　given　to　her
husband；　and　in　the　air　that　could　harm　nobody！

The　inevitable　conclusion　overwhelmed　her　on　the　instant。　With　a
frantic　upward　action　of　her　hands　she　staggered　back　into　the
passage。　The　door　of　Allan's　room　fell　to；　but　not　noisily　enough
to　wake　him。　She　turned　as　she　heard　it　close。　For　one　moment　she
stood　staring　at　it　like　a　woman　stupefied。　The　next；　her
instinct　rushed　into　action；　before　her　reason　recovered　itself。
In　two　steps　she　was　at　the　door　of　Number　Four。

The　door　was　locked。

She　felt　over　the　wall　with　both　hands；　wildly　and　clumsily；　for
the　button　which　she　had　seen　the　doctor　press　when　he　was
showing　the　room　to　the　visitors。　Twice　she　missed　it。　The　third
time　her　eyes　helped　her　hands；　she　found　the　button　and　pressed
on　it。　The　mortise　of　the　lock　inside　fell　back；　and　the　door
yielded　to　her。

Without　an　instant's　hesitation　she　entered　the　room。　Though　the
door　was　openthough　so　short　a　time　had　elapsed　since　the
fourth　Pouring　that　but　little　more　than　half　the　contemplated
volume　of　gas　had　been　produced　as　yetthe　poisoned　air　seized
her；　like　the　grasp　of　a　hand　at　her　throat；　like　the　twisting　of
a　wire　round　her　head。　She　found　him　on　the　floor　at　the　foot　of
the　bed：　his　head　and　one　arm　were　toward　the　door；　as　if　he　had
risen　under　the　first　feeling　of　drowsiness；　and　had　sunk　in　the
effort　to　leave　the　room。　With　the　desperate　concentration　of
strength　of　which　women　are　capable　in　emergencies；　she　lifted
him　and　dragged　him　out　into　the　corridor。　Her　brain　reeled　as
she　laid　him　down；　and　crawled　back　on　her　knees　to　the　room　to
shut　out　the　poisoned　air　from　pursuing　them　into　the　passage。
After　closing　the　door；　she　waited；　without　daring　to　look　at　him
the　while；　for　strength　enough　to　rise　and　get　to　the　window　over
the　stairs。　When　the　window　was　opened；　when　the　keen　air　of　the
early　winter　morning　blew　steadily　in；　she　ventured　back　to　him
and　raised　his　head；　and　looked　for　the　first　time　closely　at　his
face。

Was　it　death　that　spread　the　livid　pallor　over　his　forehead　and
his　cheeks；　and　the　dull　leaden　hue　on　his　eyelids　and　his　lips？

She　loosened　his　cravat　and　opened　his　waistcoat；　and　bared　his
throat　and　breast　to　the　air。　With　her　hand　on　his　heart；　with
her　bosom　supporting　his　head；　so　that　he　fronted　the　window；　she
waited　the　event。　A　time　passed：　a　time　short　enough　to　be
reckoned　by　minutes　on　the　clock；　and　yet　long　enough　to　take　her
memory　back　over　all　her　married　life　with　himlong　enough　to
mature　the　resolution　that　now　rose　in　her　mind　as　the　one　result
that　could　come　of　the　retrospect。　As　her　eyes　rested　on　him；　a
strange　composure　settled　slowly　on　her　face。　She　bore　the　look
of　a　woman　who　was　equally　resigned　to　welcome　the　chance　of　his
recovery；　or　to　accept　the　certainty　of　his　death。

Not　a　cry　or　a　tear　had　escaped　her　yet。　Not　a　cry　or　a　tear
escaped　her　when　the　interval　had　passed；　and　she　felt　the　first
faint　fluttering　of　his　heart；　and　heard　the　first　faint　catching
of　the　breath　of　his　lips。　She　silently　bent　over　him　and　kissed
his　forehead。　When　she　looked　up　again；　the　hard　despair　had
melted　from　her　face。　There　was　something　softly　radiant　in　her
eyes；　which　lit　her　whole　countenance　as　with　an　inner　light；　and
made　her　womanly　and　lovely　once　more。

She　laid　him　down；　and；　taking　off　her　shawl；　made　a　pillow　of　it
to　support　his　head。　〃It　might　have　been　ha