 Chapter 9 Only a faintly marked vision of Lady Lena rewards me for doing my best to remember her. A tall, slim, graceful person, dressed in white with a simplicity which is the perfection of art, presents to my admiration gentle blue eyes, a pale complexion delicately touched with color, a well-carried head crowned by lovely light brown hair. So far, time helps the reviving past to come to life again, and permits nothing more. I cannot say that I now remember the voice once so musical in my ears, or that I am able to repeat the easy and effective talk which once interested me, or that I see again, in my thoughts, the perfect charm of manner which delighted everybody, not forgetting myself. My unworthy self, I might say, for I was the only young man honored by an introduction to Lady Lena, who stopped at admiration and never made use of opportunity to approach love. On the other hand, I distinctly recollect what my stepmother and I said to each other when our guests had wished us good night. If I am asked to account for this, I can only reply that the conspiracy to lead me into proposing marriage to Lady Lena first showed itself on the occasion to which I have referred. In her eagerness to reach her ends, Mrs. Roylake failed to handle the fine weapons of deception as cleverly as usual. Even I, with my small experience of worldly women, discovered the object that she had in view. I had retired to the seclusion of the smoking room and was already encircled by the clouds which floated on the heaven of tobacco when I heard a rustling of silk outside and saw the smile of Mrs. Roylake beginning to captivate me through the open door. If you throw away your cigar, cried this amiable person, you will drive me out of the room. Dear Gerald, I like your smoke. My fat man in black, coming in at the moment to bring me some soda water, looked at his mistress with an expression of amazement and horror which told me that he now saw Mrs. Roylake in the smoking room for the first time. I involved myself in new clouds. If I suffocated my stepmother, her own polite equivocation would justify the act. She settled herself opposite to me in an armchair. The agonies that she must have suffered in preventing her face from expressing emotions of disgust, I dare not attempt to imagine, even at this distance of time. Now, Gerald, let us talk about the two ladies. What do you think of my friend, Lady Rachel? I don't like your friend, Lady Rachel. You astonish me. Why? I think she's a false woman. Heavens, what a thing to say of a lady and that lady my friend! Her politics may very reasonably have surprised you, but surely her vigorous intellect ought to have challenged your admiration. You can't deny that. I was not clever enough to be able to deny it, but I was bold enough to say that Lady Rachel seemed to me to be a woman who talked for the sake of producing effect. She expressed opinions, as I've entered to declare, which, in her position, I did not believe she could honestly entertain. Mrs. Roylake entered a vigorous protest. She assured me that I was completely mistaken. Lady Rachel, she said, is the most perfectly candid person in the whole circle of my acquaintance. With the best intentions on my part, this was more than I could patiently endure. Doesn't she the daughter of a nobleman? I asked. Doesn't she owe her rank and her splendor and the respect that people show to her to the fortunate circumstance of her birth? And yet she talks as if she was a red Republican. You yourself heard her say that she was a thorough radical and hoped she might live to see the House of Lords abolished. Oh, I heard her. And what is more, I listened so attentively to such sentiments as these from a lady with a title that I can repeat word for word what she said next. We haven't deserved our own titles. We haven't earned our own incomes, and we legislate for the country without having been trusted by the country. In short, we are a set of impostors, and the time is coming when we shall be found out. Do you believe she really meant that? All as false as false can be. That's what I say of it. There I stopped, privately admiring my own eloquence. Quite a mistake on my part. My eloquence had done just what Mrs. Royalache wished me to do. She wanted an opportunity of dropping Lady Rachel and taking up Lady Lena with a producible reason which forbade the imputation of her personal motive on her part. I had furnished her with the reason. Thus far I cannot deny it. My stepmother was equal to herself. Really, Gerald, you are so violent in your opinions that I am sorry I spoke of Lady Rachel. Shall I find you equally prejudiced and equally severe if I change the subject to dear Lady Lena? Oh, don't say you think she is false too. Here Mrs. Royalache made her first mistake. She overacted her part, and when it was too late, she arrived, I suspect, at that conclusion herself. If you haven't seen that I sincerely admire Lady Lena, I said, as smartly as I could, the sooner you disfigure yourself with a pair of spectacles, my dear lady, the better. She is very pretty, perfectly unaffected, and, if I may presume to judge, delightfully well-bred and well-dressed. My stepmother's face actually brightened with pleasure. Reflecting on it now, I am strongly disposed to think that she had not allowed her feelings to express themselves so unreservedly since the time when she was a girl. After all, Mrs. Royalache was paying her steps on a compliment in trying to entrap him into a splendid marriage. It was my duty to think kindly of my ambitious relative. I did my duty. You really like my sweet Lena? She said, I am so glad. What were you talking about with her? She made you exert all your powers of conversation, and she seemed to be deeply interested. More overacting, another mistake, and I could see through it. With no English subject which we could discuss in common, Lady Lena's red attack alluded to my past life. Mrs. Royalache had told her that I was educated at a German university. She had heard vaguely of students with long hair, who wore hasten boots and full duels, and she appealed to my experience to tell her something more. I did my best to interest her with very indifferent success, and was undeservedly rewarded by her patient attention, which presented the unselfish refinements of courtesy under their most perfect form. But let me do my stepmother justice. She contrived to bend me to her will before she left the smoking room. I am sure I don't know how. You have entertained the charming daughters at dinner, she reminded me, and the least you can do, after that, is to pay your respects to their noble father. In your position, my dear boy, you cannot neglect their English customs without producing the worst possible impression. In two words I found myself pledged under pretence of visiting my lord to improve my acquaintance with Lady Lena on the next day. And pray be careful, Mrs. Royalache proceeded, still braving the atmosphere of the smoking room, not to look surprised if you find Lord Uppercliff's house presenting rather a poor appearance just now. I was dying for another cigar, and I entirely misunderstood the words of warning which had just been addressed to me. I tried to bring her into view to a close by making a generous proposal. Does he want money? I asked. I'll lend him some with the greatest pleasure. Mrs. Royalache's horror expressed itself in a little thin worry scream. Oh, Gerrit, what people you must have lived among. What shocking ignorance of my lord's enormous fortune. He and his family have only just returned to their country seat after a long absence. Parliament, you know, and foreign bath, and so on. And the English establishment is not yet complete. I don't know what mistake you may not make next. Do listen to what I want to say to you. Listening, I must acknowledge. With an absent mind, my attention was suddenly seized by Mrs. Royalache, without the slightest conscious effort towards that end on the part of the lady herself. The first words that startled me in her floor of speech were these, and I must not forget to tell you of poor Lord Uppercliff's misfortune. He had a fall sometimes since and broke his leg, as I think he was so unwise as to let a plausible young surgeon set the broken bone. Anyway, the end of it is that my lord slightly limbs when he walks, and pray remember that he hates to see it noticed. Lady Rachel doesn't agree with me in attributing her father's lameness to his surgeon's wants of experience. Between ourselves the man seems to have interested her. Very handsome, very clever, very agreeable, and the man is of a gentleman. When his medical services came to an end, he was quite an acquisition at their parties in London, with one drawback. He mysteriously disappeared and has never been heard of since. Ask Lady Lena about it. She will give you all the details without her elder sister's bias in favour of the handsome young man. What a pretty compliment you are paying me. You really look as if I had interested you. Knowing what I knew, I was unquestionably interested. Although the recent return of Lord Uppercliff and his daughter to the country home had, as yet allowed no opportunity of a meeting, out of doors, between the deaf lodger and the friends whom he had lost sight of, no doubt at the time of his serial illness, still the inevitable discovery might happen on any day. What result would follow? And what would be the effect on Lady Rachel when she met with a fascinating young surgeon and discovered the terrible change in him? CHAPTER TEN We were alone in the glade by the side of the spring. At that early hour there were no interruptions to tread, but crystal was ill at ease. She seemed to be eager to get back to the cottage as soon as possible. Father tells me, she began abruptly, he saw you at the boathouse, and it seemed to him that you were behaving yourself like a friend to that terrible man. I reminded her of my having expressed the fear that we had been needlessly hard on him, and I added that he had written a letter which confirmed me that opinion. She looked not only disappointed, but even alarmed. I had hoped, she said sadly, that father was mistaken. So little mistaken, I assured her, that I am going to drink tea with the man who seems to frighten you. I hope he will ask you to meet. She recalled from the bare idea of an invitation. Will you hear what I want to tell you? She said honestly. You may alter your opinion if you know what I have been foolish enough to do when you saw me go to the other side of the cottage. Dear crystal, I know what I owe to your kind interest in me on that occasion. Before I could say a word of apology for having wronged her by my suspicions, she insisted on an explanation of what I had just said. Did he mention it in his letter? She asked. I owned that I had obtained my information in this way, and I declared that he had expressed his admiration of her and his belief in her, in terms which made it a subject of regret to me, not to be able to show what he had written. Crystal forgot her fear of her being interrupted. Her dismay expressed itself in a cry that rang through the wood. You even believe in his letter? She exclaimed. Mr. Gerrard, his writing in that way to you about me, is a proof that he lies, and I'll make you see it. If you were anybody else but yourself, I would leave you to your fate. Yes, your fate, she passionately repeated. Oh, forgive me, sir, I'm behaving disrespectfully. I beg your pardon. No, no, let me go on. When I spoke to him in your best interests, as I did most truly believe, I never suspected what mischief I had done till I looked in his face. Then I saw how he hated you, and how vilely he was thinking in secret of me. Pure delusion! How could I allow it to go on? I interrupted her. My dear, you have quite mistaken him. As I have already said, he sincerely respects you, and he owns that he misjudged me when he and I first met. What is that in his letter, too? It's worse even than I feared. Again and again and again I say it. She stamped on the ground in the fervor of her conviction. He hates you with a hatred that never forgives and never forgets. You think him a good man. Do you suppose I would have begged and prayed of my father to send him away without having reasons that justified me? Mr. Cherrod, you force me to tell you what my unlucky visit did put into his head. Yes, he does believe, believes firmly, that you have forgotten what is due to your rank, that I have been wicked enough to forget it, too, and that you are going to take me away from him. Say what he may and write what he may. He is deceiving you for his own wicked ends. If you go to drink tea with him, God only knows what cause you may have to regret it. Forgive me for being so violent, sir. I have done now. You have made me very wretched, but you are too good and kind to mean it. Goodbye. I took her hand. I pressed it tenderly. I was touched, deeply touched. No, let me write honestly. Her eyes betrayed her, her voice betrayed her, while she said her parting words. What I saw, what I heard was no longer within the limits of doubt. The sweet girl's interest in my welfare was not the merely friendly interest which she herself believed it to be. And I said just now that I was touched. Can't. Lies! I loved her more dearly than I had ever loved her yet. There is the truth, stripped of poor prudery, and the mean fear of being cold vain. What I might have said to her, if the opportunity had offered itself, may be easily imagined. Before I could open my lips, a man appeared on the path which led from the mill to the spring, the man whom Crystal had secretly suspected of her design to follow her. I felt her hand trembling in my hand, and gave it a little encouraging squeeze. Let us judge him, I suggested, by what he says and does, on finding us together. Without an attempt at concealment on his part, he advanced towards us briskly, smiling and waving his hand. What, Mr. Roy Lake, you have already found out the virtues of your wonderful spring, and you are drinking the water before breakfast. I have often done it myself when I was not too lazy to get up. And this charming girl, he went on turning to Crystal, has she been trying the virtues of the spring by your advice? She won't listen to me, or I should have recommended long since. See me set the example. He took a silver mug from his pocket, and descended the few steps that led to the spring. Allowing for the dreadful death monotony in his voice, no man could have been more innocently joyous and agreeable. While he was taking his morning drought, I appealed to Crystal's better sense. Is this the hypocrite who is deceiving me for his own wicked ends? I asked. Does he look like the jealous monster who is plotting my destruction, and who will succeed if I am full enough to accept his invitation? Poor dear, she was as obstinate as ever. Think over what I have said to you. Think, for your own sake, was her only reply. And a little for your sake, I ventured to add. She ran away from me, taking the path which would lead her home again. The death man and I were left together. He looked after her until she was out of sight. Then he produced his book of blank leaves. But, instead of handing it to me as usual, he began to write in it himself. I have something to say to you, he explained. It was only possible, while the book was in his possession, to remind him that I could hear and that he could speak by using the language of signs. I touched my lips and pointed to him. I touched my ear and pointed to myself. Yes, he said, understanding me with his customary quickness. But I want you to remember, as well as to hear. When I have filled this sleeve, I shall beg you to keep it about you and to refer to it from time to time. He wrote on steadily until he had filled both sides of the slip of paper. Quite a little letter, he said. Pray read it. This is what I read. You must have seen for yourself that I was incapable of insulting you and Miss Crystal by an outbreak of jealousy when I found you together just now. Only remember that we all have our weaknesses and that it is my heart lot to be in a state of contest with the inherited evil which is the calamity of my life. With your encouragement I may resist temptation in the future and keep the better part of me in authority over my thoughts and actions. But be on your guard and advise Miss Crystal to be on her guard against false appearances. As we all know, they lie like truth. Consider me, pity me, I ask no more. Straightforward and manly and modest, I appeal to any unperjudiced mind, whether I should not have committed a mean action if I had placed a evil construction on this? Am I understood? He asked. I signed to him to give me his book and relieved him of anxiety in these words. If I had failed to understand you, I should have felt ashamed of myself. May I show what you have written to Crystal? He smiled more sweetly and pleasantly than I had seen him smile yet. If you wish it, he answered, I leave it entirely to you. Thank you and good morning. Having advanced a few steps on his way to the cottage, he paused and reminded me of the tea drinking. Don't forget, tomorrow evening, at seven o'clock. End of Chapter 10 Chapter 11 of the Guilty River This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Nathine Kertbouleh. The Guilty River by Wilkie Collins. Chapter 11. Wond again. The breakfast hour had not yet arrived when I got home. I went into the garden to refresh my eyes, a little weary of the sun and uniformity of color and ford which would, by looking at the flowers. Reaching the terrace, in the first place, I heard below me a man's voice, speaking in tones of angry authority and using language which expressed an intention of turning somebody out of the garden. I had once descended the steps which led to the flower beds. The man in authority proved to be one of my gardeners, and the man threatened with instant expulsion was the oddly dressed servant of the friend whom I had just left. The poor fellow's ugly face presented a picture of shame and contrition, the moment I showed myself. He pitiously entreated me to look over it and to forgive him. Wait a little, I said. Let me see if I have anything to forgive. I turned to the gardener. What is your complaint of this man? He's a trespasser on your grounds, sir, and his impudence, to say the least of it, is such as I never met with before. What harm has he done? Harm, sir? Yes, harm. Has he been picking the flowers? The gardener looked round him, longing to refer me to the necessary evidence, and failing to discover it anywhere. The wretched trespasser took heart of grace and said a word in his own defense. Nobody ever knew me to misbehave myself in a gentleman's garden, he said. I own, sir, to having taken a peep at the flowers over the wall. And they tempted you to look a little closer at them? That's the truth, sir. So you are from the flowers? Yes, sir. I once failed in business as a nurseryman, but I don't blame the flowers. The delightful simplicity of this was lost on the gardener. I heard the brute murder to himself. German. For once I asserted my authority over my servant. Understand this, I said to him. I don't confine the enjoyment of my garden to myself and my friends. Any well-behaved persons are welcome to come here and look at the flowers. Remember that. Now you may go. Having issued these instructions, I next addressed myself to my friend in the shabby shooting jacket, telling him to roam wherever he liked and to stay as long as he pleased. Instead of thanking me and using his liberty, he hesitated and looked thoroughly ill at ease. What's the matter now? I asked. I'm afraid you don't know, sir. Who it is you are so kind to. I've been something else in my time, besides a nurseryman. What have you been? A price fighter. If he expected me to exhibit inignation or contempt, he was disappointed. My ignorance treated him as severely as ever. What is a price fighter, I inquired. The unfortunate pugilist looked at me in speechless bewilderment. I told him that I had been brought up among foreigners and that I had never even seen an English newspaper for the last ten years. This explanation seemed to encourage the men a few words. It set him talking freely at last. He delivered a treatise on the art of price fighting, and he did something else which I found more amusing. He told me his name. To my small sense of humor, his name, so to speak, completed this delightfully odd man. It was gloody. As to the list of his misfortunes, the endless length of it became so unentremely droll that we both indulged in unfeeling fits of laughter over the sorrows of gloody. The first lucky accident of the poor fellow's life had been, literally, the discovery of him by his present master. This event interested me. I said I should like to hear how it had happened. Gloody modestly described himself as one of the starving lot, sir, that looks out for small errands. I got my first dinner for three days by carrying a gentleman's portmanteau for him, and he, if you please, was afterwards my master. He lived alone. Bless you, he was as deaf then as he is now. He says to me, if you bowl in my ears, I'll knock you down. I thought to myself, you wouldn't say that, master, if you knew how I was employed twenty years ago. He took me into his service, sir, because I was ugly. I am so handsome myself, he says. I want a contrast of something ugly about me. You may have noticed that he's a bitter one, and bitterly enough he sometimes behaved to me. But there's a good side to him. He gives me his old clothes, and sometimes he speaks almost as kindly to me as you do. But for him I believe I should have perished of starvation. He suddenly checked himself. Whether he was afraid of wearing me, or whether some painful recollection had occurred to him, it was, of course, impossible to say. The ugly face to which he owed his first poor little morsel of prosperity became overcrowded by care and doubt. Bursting into expressions of gratitude which I had certainly not deserved, expressions so evidently sincere that they bore witness to constant ill usage suffered in the course of his hard life, he left me with a headlong haste of movement driven away as I fancied by an unquiet mind. I watched him retreating along the path, and saw him stop abruptly, still with his back to me. His deep, strong voice travelled farther than he supposed. I heard him say to himself, What an infernal rascal I am! He waited a little, and turned my way again. Slowly and reluctantly he came back to me. As he approached, I saw the man who had lived by the public exhibition of his courage, looking at me with fear plainly visible in the change of his color and the expression of his face. Anything wrong? I inquired. Nothing wrong, sir. Might I be so bold as to ask? We waited a little. I gave him time to collect his thoughts. Perhaps the silence confused him. Anyhow, I was obliged to help him to get on. What do you wish to ask of me? I said. I wish to speak, sir. He stopped again. About what? I asked. About tomorrow evening. Well? He burst out with it at last. Are you coming to drink tea with my master? Of course I am coming. Mr. Glutti, do you know that you'd rather surprise me? I hope no offense, sir. Nonsense! It seems odd, my good fellow, that your master shouldn't have told you I was coming to drink tea with him. Isn't it your business to get the things ready? He shifted from one foot to another, and looked as if he wished himself out of my way. At a later time of my life, I have observed that these are signs by which an honest man is apt to confess that he has told, or is going to tell, a lie. As it was, I only noticed that he answered confusedly. I can't quite say, Mr. Roy Lake, that my master didn't mention the thing to me. But you failed to understand him. Is that it? Well, sir, if I want to ask him anything, I have to write it. I'm slew at writing, and bad at writing, and he isn't always patient. However, as you reminded me just now, I have got to get the things ready. To cut it short, perhaps I might say that I didn't quite expect the tea party would come off. Why should it come off? Well, sir, you might have some other engagement. Was this a hint? Only an excuse? In either case, it was high time, if he still refused to speak out, that I should set him the example. You have given me some curious information, I said, on the subject of fighting with the fists, and you have made me understand the difference between fair-hitting and foul-hitting. Are you hitting fair now? Very likely I am mistaken, but you seem to have made a mistake. Very likely I am mistaken, but you seem to me to be trying to prevent my accepting your master's invitation. He pulled off his hat in a hurry. I beg your pardon, sir, I won't detain you any longer. If you will allow me, I'll take my leave. Don't go, Mr. Gludi, without telling me whether I am right or wrong. Is there really some objection to my coming to tea tomorrow? Quite a mistake, sir, he said, still in a hurry. I have led you wrong without meaning it, being a ignorant man and not knowing how to express myself. Don't think me ungrateful, Mr. Roy Lake, after your kindness to me, I'd go through fire and water for you, I would. His sunken eyes moistened, his big voice faltered. I let him leave me, in mercy to the strong feeling which I had innocently roused, but I shook hands with him first, yielding to one of my head-long impulses? Yes, and doing a very indiscreet thing? Wait a little, and we shall see. Warned for the last time. My loyalty towards the afflicted man, whose friendly advances I had seen good reason to return, was in no sense shaken. His undeserved misfortunes, his manly appeal to me at the spring, his hopeless attachment to the beautiful girl whose aversions towards him I had unhappily encouraged, all pleaded with me in his favour. I had accepted his invitation, and I had no other engagement to claim me. It would have been an act of meanness amounting to a confession of fear, if I had sent an excuse. Still, while crystals and treaties and crystals' influence had failed to shake me, Gludy's strange language and Gludy's incomprehensible conduct had troubled my mind. I felt vaguely uneasy, irritated by my own depression of spirits. If I had been a philosopher, I should have recognized the symptoms of a very common attack, of a very widely spread moral malady. The meanest of all human infirmities is also the most universal, and the name of it is self-esteem. It is perhaps only right to add that my patience had been tried by the progress of domestic events, which affected Lady Lena and myself, viewed as victims. Calling with my stepmother at Lord Upperford's house later in the day, I perceived that Lady Rachel and Mrs. Roy Lake found, or made, an opportunity of talking together confidentially in a corner, and once or twice I caught them looking at Lady Lena and at me. Even Lord Uppercliff, perhaps not yet taken into their confidence, noticed the proceedings of the two ladies, and seemed to be at a loss to understand them. When Mrs. Roy Lake and I were together again on our way home, I was prepared to hear the praise of Lady Lena, followed by a delicate examination into the state of my heart. Neither of these anticipations was realized. Once more, my clever stepmother had puzzled me. Mrs. Roy Lake talked as fluently as ever, exhausting one commonplace subject after another, without the slightest illusion to my Lord's daughter, to my matrimonial prospects, or to my visits at the mill. I was secretly annoyed, feeling that my stepmother's singular indifference to domestic interests of paramount importance, at other times must have some object in view, entirely beyond the reach of my penetration. If I had dared to commit such an act of rudeness, I should have jumped out of the carriage and have told Mrs. Roy Lake that I meant to walk home. The day was Sunday. I loitered about the garden, listening to the distant church bell ringing for the afternoon service. Without any cause that I knew of to account for it, I was so restless that nothing I could do attracted me or quieted me. Returning to the house, I tried to occupy myself with my collection of insects, sadly neglected of late. Useless. My own moths failed to interest me. I went back to the garden, passing the open window of one of the lower rooms which looked out on the terrace. I saw Mrs. Roy Lake reading a book in sad, colored binding. She was yawning over it fearfully, when she discovered that I was looking at her. Equal to any emergency, this remarkable woman instantly handed to me a second in similar volume. The most precious sermons garage that have been written in our time. I looked at the book. I opened the book. I recovered my presence of mine and handed it back. If a female humbug was on one side of the window, a male humbug was on the other. Please keep it for me till the evening, I said. I'm going for a walk. Which way did I turn my steps? Men will wonder what possessed me. Women will think it a proceeding that did me credit. I took the familiar road which led to the gloomy wood in the guilty river. The longing in me to see Crystal again was more than I could resist, not because I was in love with her, only because I had left her in distress. Beyond the spring and within a short distance of the river I saw a lady advancing toward me on the path which led from the mill. Brisk, smiling, tripping along like a young girl, behold the mock republican known in our neighbourhood as Lady Rachel. She held out both hands to me, but for her petticoats I should have thought I had met with a jolly young man. I have been wandering in your glorious wood, Mr. Roylike, anything to escape the respectable classes on Sunday, patronising piety on the way to afternoon church. I must positively make a sketch of the cottage by the mill. I mean, of course, the picturesque side of it. That fine girl of Tollers was standing at the door. She is really handsomer than ever. Are you going to see her, you wicked man? Which do you admire, that gypsy complexion or Lena's lovely skin? Both, I have no doubt at your age. Good-bye. When we had last each other, I thought of the absent captain in the navy who was Lady Rachel's husband. He was a perfect stranger, but I put myself in his place and felt that I too should have gone to see. Old Toller was alone in his kitchen, evidently annoyed and angry. We are all sixes in sevens, Mr. Girard. I've had another row of that deaf devil, my new name for him, and I think it's rather clever. He swears, sir, that he won't go at the end of his week's notice. Says if I think I'm likely to get rid of him before he's married Christy, I'm mistaken. Frightens if any man attempts to take her away, he'll shoot her, and shoot the man, and shoot himself. As old as I am, if he believes he's going to have it all his own way, he's mistaken. I'll be even with him. You mark my words. I'll be even with him. That old Toller, the most exasperating of men, judged by a quick temper, had irritated my friend into speaking rashly was plain enough. Nevertheless, I felt some anxiety. Jealous anxiety, I'm afraid, about Crystal. After looking around the kitchen again, I asked where she was. Sitting fall on in a bedroom crying, her father told me. I went out for a walk by the river, and I sat down, and being Sunday I fell asleep. When I woke and got home again just now, that was how I found her. I don't like to hear my girl crying. She's as good as gold and better. No, sir, our deaf devil is not to blame for this. He has given Christie no reason to complain of him. She says so herself, and she never told a lie yet. But, Mr. Toller, I objected. Something must have happened to distress her. Has she not told you what it is? Not she, obstinate about it, leaves me to guess. It's clear to my, my, Mr. Durald, that somebody has guarded her in my absence, and said something to upset her. You will ask me who the person is. I can't say I've found that out yet. But you mean to try? Yes, I mean to try. He answered me with little of the energy, which generally distinguished him. Perhaps he was fatigued, or perhaps he had something else to think of. I offered a suggestion. When we are in want of help, I said, we sometimes find it nearer than we had ventured to expect, at our own doors. The ancient miller rose at that hint like a fish at a fly. Gludy! he cried. Find him at once, Mr. Toller. He harboured to the door and looked around at me. I've got burdens on my mind, he explained, or I should have thought of it too. Having done justice to his own abilities, he bustled out. In less than a minute he was back again in a state of breathless triumph. Gludy has seen the person, he announced, and—what do you think, sir? It's a woman. I beckoned to Gludy, waiting modestly at the door to come in, and tell me what he had discovered. I saw her outside, sir. Wrapping at the door here with a parasol. That was the servant's report. Her parasol? Not being acquainted with the development of dress among female servants in England, I asked if she was a lady. There seemed to be no doubt of it in the man's mind. She was also, as Gludy supposed, a person whom he had never seen before. How is it you are not sure of that, I said? Well, sir, she was waiting to be let in, and I was behind her, coming out of the wood. Who let her in? Miss Crystal. His face brightened with an expression of interest when he mentioned the miller's daughter. He went on with his story without wanting questions to help him. Miss Crystal looked like a person surprised at seeing a stranger. What I should call a free and easy stranger. She walked in, sir, as if the place belonged to her. I am not suspicious by nature, as I hope and believe. But I began to be reminded of Lady Rachel already. Did you notice the lady's dress, I asked? A woman who had seen her would have been able to describe every morsel of her dress from head to foot. The man had only observed her hat, and all they could say was that he thought it a smartish one. Any particular colour, I went on. Not that I know of. Dark green, I think. Any ornament in it? Yes! A purple feather. The hat I had seen on the head of that hateful woman was now sufficiently described, for a man. Sly old taller, leaving gluedy unnoticed and keeping his eye on me, saw the signs of conviction in my face, and said with his customary audacity, Who is she? I followed at my humble distance, the example of Sir Walter Scott, when inquisitive people asked him if he was the author of the Waverly novels. In plain English I denied all knowledge of the stranger wearing the green hat. But I was naturally desirous of discovering next what Lady Rachel had said, and I asked to speak with Crystal. Her far-seeing father might or might not have perceived a chance of listening to our conversation. He led me to the door of his daughter's room and stood close by, when I knocked softly and begged that she would come out. The tone of the poor girl's voice answering, Forgive me, sir, I can't do it—convicted the she-socialist, as I thought, of merciless conduct of some sort. Assuming this conclusion to be the right one, I determined then and there that Lady Rachel should not pass the doors of Trimley Dean again. If her bosom friend resented that wise act of severity by leaving the house, I should submit with resignation and should remember the circumstance with pleasure. I am afraid you are ill, Crystal, was all I could find to say, under the double disadvantage of speaking through a door, and having a father listening at my side. Oh, no, Mr. Girard, not ill—a little low in my mind, that's all. I don't mean to be rude, sir—pray, be kinder to me than ever—pray, let me be! I said I would return on the next day and left the room with a sore heart. Old Toller highly approved of my conduct. He rubbed his fleshless hands and whispered, You'll get it out of Christie to-morrow, and I'll help you. I found Gloody waiting for me outside the cottage. He was anxious about Miss Crystal, his only excuse, he told me, being the fear that she might be ill. Having set him at ease in that particular, I said, You seem to be interested in Miss Crystal. His answer raised him a step higher in my estimation. How can I help it, sir? An odd man with a personal appearance that might excite a prejudice against him in some minds. I failed to see it myself in that light. It struck me, as I walked home, that Crystal might have made many a worse friend than the retired prize-fighter. A change in my manner was, of course, remarked by Mrs. Royal Lake's ready observation. I told her that I had been annoyed and offered no other explanation. Wonderful to relate, she showed no curiosity and no surprise. More wonderful still, at every fair opportunity that offered, she kept out of my way. My next day's engagement, being for seven o'clock in the evening, I put Mrs. Royal Lake's self-control to a new test. With prefatory excuses I informed her that I should not be able to dine at home as usual. Impossible as it was that she could have been prepared to hear this, her presence of mind was equal to the occasion. I left the house, followed by my stepmother's best wishes for a pleasant evening. Hoping to speak with Crystal alone, I had arranged to reach the cottage before seven o'clock. On the river-margin of the wood I was confronted by a wild gleam of beauty in the familiar view, for which previous experience had not prepared me. Am I wrong in believing that all scenery, no matter how magnificent or how homely it may be, derives a splendour not its own from favouring conditions of light and shade. Our gloomy trees and our appellant river presented an aspect superbly transfigured, under the shadows of the towering clouds, the fantastic wreaths of the mist, and the lurid reddening of the sun as it stooped in its setting. Lovely interfusions of sobered colour rested, faded, returned again, on the upper leaves of the foliage, as they lightly moved. The mist, rolling capriciously over the waters, revealed the grandly deliberate course of the flowing current, while it dimmed the turbid earthy yellow that discoloured and degraded this dream under the full glare of day. While my eyes followed the successive transformations of the view as the hour advanced, tender and solemn influences breathed their balm over my mind. Days, happy days that were past revived. Again I walked hand in hand with my mother among the scenes that were round me, and learnt from her to be grateful for the beauty of the earth, with the heart that felt it. We were tracing our way along our favourite woodland path, and we found a companion of tender years hiding from us. She showed herself, blushing, hesitating, offering a nosegay of wild flowers. My mother whispered to me. I thanked the little mill girl and gave her a kiss. Did I feel the child's breath in my daydream still fluttering on my cheek? Was I conscious of her touch? I started, trembled, returned reluctantly to my present self. A visible hand touched my arm. As I turned suddenly, a living breath played on my face. The child had faded into a vanishing shade. The perfect woman who had grown from her had stolen on me unawares, and was asking me to pardon her. Mr. Girard, you were lost in your thoughts. I spoke, and you never heard me. I looked at her in silence. Was this the dear crystal so well known to me, or was it a mockery of her that had taken her place? I open up, not offended you, she said. You have surprised me, I answered. Something must have happened since I saw you last. What is it? Nothing. I advanced to step and drew her closer to me. A dark flash discoloured her face. An overpowering brilliancy flashed from her eyes. There was an hysterical defiance in her manner. Are you excited? Are you angry? Are you trying to stop me by acting apart? I urged those questions on her one after another, and I was loudly and confidently answered. I daresay I am excited, Mr. Girard, by the honour that has been done me. You are going to keep your engagement, of course. Well, your friend—your favourite friend—has invited me to meet you. No, that's not quite true. I invited myself, the deaf gentleman submitted. Why did you invite yourself? Because a tea-party is not complete without a woman. Her manner was as strangely altered as her looks. That she was beside herself for the moment I clearly saw, that she had answered me unreservedly, it was impossible to believe. I began to feel angry when I ought to have made allowances for her. Is this Lady Rachel's doing? I said. What do you know of Lady Rachel, sir? I know that she has visited you and spoken to you. Do you know what she has said? I can guess. Mr. Girard, don't abuse that good and kindly lady. She deserves your gratitude as well as mine. Her manner had become quieter. Her face was more composed. Her expression almost recovered its natural charm while she spoke of Lady Rachel. I was stupefied. Try, sir, to forget it and forgive it. She resumed gently. If I have misbehaved myself, I don't rightly know what I am saying or doing. I pointed to the new side of the cottage, behind us. Is the cause there? I asked. No. No, indeed. I have not seen him. I have not heard from him. His servant often brings me messages. Not one message to-day. Have you seen Gludy to-day? Oh, yes. There's one thing. If I may make so bold, I should like to know. Mr. Gludy is as good to me as good can be. We see each other continually, living in the same place, but you are different, and he tells me himself he has only seen you twice. What have you done, Mr. Girard, to make him like you so well, in that short time? I told her that he had been found in my garden, looking at the flowers. As he had done no harm, I said, I wouldn't allow the servant to turn him out, and I walked around the flower beds with him, little enough to deserve such gratitude at the poor fellow expressed, and felt I don't doubt it. I had intended to say no more than this, but the remembrance of Gludy's mysterious perverication, and of the uneasiness which I had undoubtedly felt when I thought of it afterwards, led me, I cannot pretend to say how, into associating Crystal's agitation with something which this man might have said to her. I was on the point of putting the question, when she held up her hand and said, Hush! The wind was blowing toward us from the riverside village, to which I have already alluded. I am not sure whether I have mentioned that the name of the place was Kylum. It was situated behind a promontory of the riverbank, clothed thickly with trees, and was not visible from the mill. In the present direction of the wind we could hear the striking of the church clock. Crystal countered the strokes. Seven, she said. Are you determined to keep your engagement? She had repeated, in an unsteady voice, and with a sudden change in her colour to paleness. The strange question put to me by Gludy. In his case, I had failed to trace the motive. I try to discover it now. Tell me why I ought to break my engagement, I said. Remember what I told you at the spring, she answered. You are deceived by a false friend who lies to you and aides you. The man she was speaking of turned the corner of the new cottage. He waved his hand gaily and approached us along the road. Oh! she said. Your guardian angel has forgotten you. It's too late now. Instead of letting me proceed her, as I had anticipated, she ran on before me, made a sign to the deaf man as she passed him, not to stop her, and disappeared through the open door of her father's side of the cottage. I was left to decide for myself what should I have done if I had been twenty years older. Say my moral courage would have risen superior to the poorest of all fears, the fear of appearing to be afraid, and that I should have made my excuses to my host of the evening. How would my moral courage have answered him, if he had asked for an explanation? Useless to speculate on it. Had I possessed the wisdom of middle life, his book of leaves would not have told him in my own handwriting, that I believed in his better nature, and accepted his friendly letter in the spirit in which it had been written. Explain it who can. I knew that I was going to drink tea with him, and yet I was unwilling to advance a few steps and meet him on the road. I find a new bond of union between us, he said, as he joined me. We both feel that, he pointed to the grandly darkening view, the two men who could have painted the mystery of those growing shadows and fading lights, lie in the graves of Rembrandt and Turner. Shall we go to tea? On our way to his room we stopped at the miller's door. Will you inquire, he said, if Miss Crystal is ready? I went in. Old Toller was in the kitchen, smoking his pipe without appearing to enjoy it. What's come to my go? he asked the moment he saw me. Yesterday she was in a room crying. Today she's in a room praying. The warnings which I had neglected rose in judgment against me. I was silent. I was odd. Before I recovered myself, Crystal entered the kitchen. Her father whispered, Look at her! Of the excitement which had disturbed, I had almost said profaned. Her beautiful face, not a vestige, remained. Pale, composed, resolute, she said. I am ready, and led the way out. The man whom she hated offered his arm. She took it. I perceived but one change in the lodger's miserable room since I had seen it last. A second table was set against one of the walls. Our boiling water for the tea was kept there in a silver kettle heated by a spirit lamp. I next observed a delicate little china vase which held the tea, and a finely designed glass claret jug with a silver cover. Other men possessing that beautiful object would have thought it worthy of the purest Bordeaux wine which the arts of modern adulteration permit us to drink. This man had filled the claret jug with water. All my valuable property ostentatiously exposed to view, he said, in his bitterly facetious manner. My landlord's property matches it on the big table. The big table presented a coarse earthenware teapot, cups and saucers with pieces chipped out of them, a cracked milk jug, a tumbler which served as a sugar basin, and an old vegetable dish honoured by holding delicate French sweetmeats for the first time since it had left the shop. My deaf friend in boisterously good spirits pointed backwards and forwards between the precious and the worthless objects on the two tables as if he saw a prospect that delighted him. I don't believe the man lives, he said, who enjoys contrast as I do. What do you want now? This question was addressed to Glutti who had just entered the room. He touched the earthenware teapot. His master answered, let it alone. I make the tea at other times the man persisted looking at me. What does he say? Write it down for me, Mr. Roy Lake, I beg you will write it down. There was anger in his eyes as he made that request. I took his book and wrote the words, harmless words surely. He read them and turned savagely to his unfortunate servant. In the days when you were a ruffian in the prize-ring did the other men's fists beat all the brains out of your head? Do you think that you can make tea that is fit for Mr. Roy Lake to drink? He pointed to an open door, communicating with another bedroom. Glutti's eyes rested steadily on crystal. She failed to notice him being occupied at the moment in replacing the pin of a brooch which had slipped out of her dress. The man withdrew into the second bedroom and softly closed the door. Our host recovered his good humour. He took a wooden stool and seated himself by crystal. Borrowed furniture, he said, as well as borrowed tea-things. What a debt of obligation I owe to your excellent father! How quiet you are, dear girl! Do you regret having followed the impulse which made you kindly offer to drink tea with us? He suddenly turned to me. Another proof, Mr. Roy Lake, of the sisterly interest that she feels in you. She can't hear of your coming into my room without wanting to be with you. Ah, you possess the mysterious attractions which fascinate the sex. One of these days some woman will love you as never man was loved yet. He addressed himself again to crystal. Still out of spirits? I daresay you are tired of waiting for your tea, no? You have had tea already. It's Gludy's fault. He ought to have told me that seven o'clock was too late for you. The poor devil deserved that you should take no notice of him when he looked at you just now. Are you one of the few women who dislike an ugly man? Women in general I can tell you prefer ugly men. A handsome man matches them on their own ground and they don't like that. We are so fond of our ugly husbands, they set us off to such advantage. Oh, I don't report what they say. I speak the language in which they think. Mr. Roy Lake, does it strike you that the cur is a sad cynic? By the by, do you call me the cur as I suggested when you speak of me to other people? To Miss Crystal, for instance? My charming young friends, you both look shocked. You both shake your heads. Perhaps I am in one of my tolerant humours today. I see nothing disgraceful in being a cur. He is a dog who represents different breeds. Very well. The English are a people who represent different breeds. Saxons, Normans, Danes. The consequence in one case is a great nation. The consequence in the other case is the cleverest member of the whole dog family, as you may find out for yourself, if you will only teach him. Ha! how I am running on! My guests try to slip in a word or two and can't find their opportunity. Enjoyment, Miss Crystal. Excitement, Mr. Roy Lake. For more than a year past I have not luxuriated in the pleasures of society. I feel the social glow. I love the human family. I never, never, never was such a good man as I am now. Let vile slang express my emotions. Isn't it jolly? Crystal and I stopped him at the same moment. We instinctively lifted our hands to our ears. In his delirium of high spirits he had burst through the invariable monotony of his articulation. Without the slightest gradation of sound his voice broke suddenly into a screech, prolonged in its own discord, until it became perfectly unendurable to hear. The effect that he had produced upon us was not lost on him. His head sank on his breast. Horrid shutterings shook him without mercy. He said to himself not to us, I had forgotten I was deaf. There was a whole world of misery in those simple words. Crystal kept her place unmoved. I rose and put my hand kindly on his shoulder. It was the best way I could devise of assuring him of my sympathy. He looked up at me in silence. His book of leaves was on the table. He did once more what he had already done at the spring. Instead of using the book as usual he wrote in it himself and then handed it to me. Let me spare your nerves a repetition of my deaf discord, sight, smell, touch, taste I would give them all to be able to hear. In reminding me of that vain aspiration my infirmity revenges itself. My deafness is not accustomed to be forgotten. Well, I can be silently useful. I can make the tea. He rose and taking the teapot with him went to the table that had been placed against the wall. In that position his back was turned towards us. At the same time I felt his book gently taken out of my hand. Crystal had been reading while I read over my shoulder. She wrote on the next blank leaf, Shall I make the tea? Now she said to me notice what happens. Following him she touched his arm and presented her request. He shook his head in a token of refusal. She came back to her place by me. You expected that, I said? Yes. Why did you ask me to notice his refusal? Because I may want to remind you that he wouldn't let me make the tea. Mysteries, my dear? Yes, mysteries. Not to be mentioned more particularly? I will mention one of them more particularly. After the tea has been made you may possibly feel me touch your knee under the table. I was fool enough to smile at this and wise enough afterwards to see in her face that I had made a mistake. What is your touch intended to mean, I asked? It means wait, she said. My sense of humour was, by this time, completely held in check. That some surprise was in store for me and that crystal was resolved not to take me into her confidence were conclusions at which I naturally arrived. I felt, and surely not without good cause, a little annoyed. The lodger came back to us with the tea made. As he put the teapot on the table he apologised to crystal. Don't think me rude in refusing your kind offer. If there is one thing I know I can do better than anybody else that thing is making tea. Do you take sugar and milk, Mr. Roy Lake? I made the affirmative sign. He poured out the tea. When he had filled two cups the supply was exhausted. Crystal and I noticed this. He saw it and at once gratified our curiosity. It is a rule, he said, with masters in the art of making tea that one infusion ought never be used twice. If we want any more we will make more and if you feel inclined to join us, Miss Crystal, we will fill the third cup. What was there in this I wondered to make her turn pale and why after what he had just said did I see her eyes willingly rest on him for the first time in my experience. Entirely at a loss to understand her I resignedly stirred my tea. On the point of tasting it next felt her hand on my knee under the table. Bewildered as I was I obeyed my instructions and went on stirring my tea. Our host smiled. Your sugar takes a long time to melt, he said and drank his tea. As he emptied the cup the touch was taken off me. I followed his example. In spite of his boasting the tea was the worst I had ever tasted. I should have thrown it out of the window if they had offered us such nasty stuff at Trimley Dean. When I set down my cup he asked facetiously if I wished him to brew any more. My negative answer was a masterpiece of strong expression in the language of signs. Instead of sending for Gluty to clear the table he moved away the objects near him so as to leave an empty space at his disposal. I ought perhaps to have hesitated before I asked you to spend the evening with me, he said, speaking with a gentleness and amiability of manner, strongly in contrast with his behaviour up to this time. It is my misfortune, as you both well know, to be a check on conversation. I daresay you've asked yourselves how is he going to amuse us after tea. If you will allow me I propose to amuse you by exhibiting the dexterity of my fingers and thumbs. Before I was deaf I should have preferred the piano for this purpose. As it is an inferior accomplishment must serve my turn. He opened a cupboard in the wall, close by the second table, and returned with a pack of cards. Crystal imitated the action of dealing cards for a game. No, he said, that is not the amusement which I have in view. Allow me to present myself in a new character. I am no longer the lodger. And no longer the cur. My new name is more honourable still. I am the conjurer. He shuffled the pack by pouring it backwards and forwards from one hand to the other in a cascade of cards. The wonderful ease with which he did it prepared me for something worth seeing. Crystal's admiration of his dexterity expressed itself by a prolonged clapping of hands and a strange uneasy laugh. As his excitement subsided her agitation broke out. I saw the flush again on her face and the fiery brightness in her eyes. Once, when his attention was engaged, she stole a look at the door by which Gluty had left the room. Did this indicate another of the mysteries which, by her own confession, she had in preparation for me? My late experience had not inclined me favourably towards mysteries. I devoted my whole attention to the conjurer. Whether he chose the easiest examples of skill and sleight of hand is more than I know. I can only say that I was never more completely mystified by any professor of ledger domain on the public platform. After the performance of each trick he asked Liev to time himself by looking at his watch, being anxious to discover if he had lost his customary quickness of execution through recent neglect of the necessary practice. Of Crystal's conduct, while he was amusing us, I can only say that it justified Mrs. Roylake's spiteful description of her as a bold girl. The more cleverly the tricks were performed, the more they seemed to annoy and provoke her. I hate being puzzled, she said, addressing herself, of course, to me. Yes, yes, his fingers are quicker than my eyes. I have heard that explanation before. When he has done one of his tricks, I want to know how he does it. Conjurers are people who ask riddles, and, when one can't guess them, refuse to say what the answer is. It's as bad as calling me a fool to suppose that I like being deceived. Ah, she cried with a shocking insolence of look and manner, if our friend could only hear what I am saying. He had paused while she was speaking, observing her attentively. Your face doesn't encourage me, he said, with a patience and courtesy of manner, which was impossible not to admire. I am coming gradually to my greatest triumph, and I think I can surprise and please you. He timed his last trick and returned to the table placed against the wall. Excuse me for a moment, he resumed. I am suffering as usual after drinking tea. I so delight in it that the temptation to night was more than I could resist. Tea disagrees with my weak stomach. It always produces thirst. What nonsense he talks, Crystal exclaimed. Hallmere fancy! He reminds me of the old song called The Nervous Man. Do you know what, Mr. Roy Lake? In spite of my efforts to prevent her, she burst out with the first verse of a stupid comic song. Spared by his deafness from this infliction of vulgarity, our host filled a tumbler from the water in the claret jug and drank it. As he set the tumbler down, we were startled by an accident in the next room. The floor was suddenly shaken by the sound of a heavy fall. The fall was followed by a groan which instantly brought me to my feet. Although his infirmity made him unconscious of the groan, my friend felt the vibration of the floor and saw me start up from my chair. He looked even more alarmed than I was, judging by the ghastly change that I saw in his colour, and he reached the door of the second room as soon as I did. It is needless to say that I allowed him to enter first. On the point of following him, I felt myself roughly pulled back. When I turned round and saw Crystal, I did really and truly believe that she was mad. The furious impatience in her eyes, the frenzied strength of her grasp on my arm, would have led most other men to form the same conclusion. Come, she cried. No, not a word. There isn't a moment to lose. She dragged me across the room to the table on which the claret jug stood. She filled the tumbler from it, as he had filled the tumbler, the material of which the jug had been made was so solid, Crystal, not glass as I had supposed, that filling of the two tumblers emptied it. Crystal held the water out to me, gasping for breath, trembling as if she saw some frightful reptile before her instead of myself. Drink it, she said. If you value your life, I should, of course, have found it perfectly easy to obey her, strange as her language was, if I had been in full possession of myself. Between distress and alarm my mind, I suppose, had lost its balance. With or without a cause I hesitated. She crossed the room and threw open the window, which looked out on the river. You shan't thy alone, she said. If you don't drink it, I'll throw myself out. I drank from the tumbler to the last drop. It was not water. It had a taste which I can compare to no drink, and to no medicine known to me. I thought of the other strange taste peculiar to the tea. At last the tremendous truth forced itself on my mind. The man in whom my boyish generosity had so faithfully believed had attempted my life. Crystal took the tumbler from me. My poor angel clasped her free arm round to my neck and pressed her lips in an ecstasy of joy on my cheek. The next instant she seized the claret jug and dashed it into pieces on the floor. Get the jug from his wash hand stand, she said. When I gave it to her she poured some of the water upon the broken fragments of crystal scattered on the floor. I had put the jug back in its place and was returning to crystal when the poisoner showed himself, entering from the servant's room. Don't be alarmed, he said. Gludy's name ought to be glutton, an attack of giddiness, thoroughly well deserved. I have relieved him. You remember, Mr. Roy Lake, that I was once a surgeon? The broken claret jug caught his eye. We have all read of men who were petrified by terror. Of the few persons who have really witnessed that spectacle, I am one. The utter stillness of him was really terrible to see. Crystal wrote in his book an excuse, no doubt prepared beforehand. That fall in the next room frightened me and I felt faint. I went to get some water from the jug you drank out of. And it slipped from my hand. She placed those words under his eyes. She might just as well have shown them to the dog. A dead man erect on his feet so he looked to our eyes. So he still looked when I took Crystal's arm and let her out of that dreadful presence. Take me into the air, she whispered. A burst of tears relieved her after the unutterable suspense that she had so bravely endured. When she was in some degree composed again, we walked gently up and down for a minute or two in the cool night air. Don't speak to me, she said, as we stopped before her father's door. I am not fit for it yet. I know what you feel. I pressed her to my heart and let the embrace speak for me. She yielded to it, faintly sighing. Tomorrow, I whispered, she bent her head and left me. Walking home through the wood, I became aware little by little that my thoughts were not under the customary control. Over and over again I tried to review the events of that terrible evening and failed. Fragments of other memories presented themselves and then deserted me. Nonsense, absolute nonsense, found its way into my mind next and rose in idiotic words to my lips. I grew too lazy even to talk to myself. I strayed from the path. The mossy earth began to rise and sink under my feet, like the waters in a groundswell at sea. I stood still in a state of idiot wonder. The ground suddenly rose right up to my face. I remember no more. My first conscious exercise of my senses, when I revived, came to me by way of my ears. Ledden weights seemed to close my eyes, to fetter my movements, to silence my tongue, to paralyze my touch. But I heard a wailing voice speaking close to me, so close that it might have been my own voice. I distinguished the words, I knew the tones. Oh, my master, my lord, who am I that I should live, and you die, and you die? Was it her warm, young breath that quickened me with its vigorous life? I only know that the revival of my sense of touch did certainly spring from the contact of her lips, pressed to mine in the reckless abandonment of grief without hope. Her cry of joy, when my first sigh told her that I was still a living creature, ran through me like an electric shock. I opened my eyes. I held out my hand. I tried to help her when she raised my head, and set me against the tree under which I had been stretched helpless. With an effort I could call her by her name. Even that exhausted me. My mind was so weak that I should have believed her, if she had declared herself to be a spirit seen in a dream, keeping watch over me in the wood. Wiser than I was, she snatched up my hat, ran on before me, and was lost in the darkness. An interval, an unendurable interval, passed. She returned having filled my hat from the spring. But for the exquisite coolness of the water falling on my face, trickling down my throat, I should have lost my senses again. In a few minutes more I could take that dear hand and hold it to me as if I was holding to my life. We could only see each other obscurely, and in that very circumstance, as we confessed to each other afterwards, we found the needful composure before we could speak. Crystal, what does it mean? Poison, she answered, and he has suffered too. To my astonishment there was no anger in her tone. She spoke of him as quietly as if she had been alluding to an innocent man. Do you mean that he has been at death's door like me? Yes, thank God, or I should never have found you here. Poor old Gloody came to us in search of help. My master's in a swamp and I can't bring him to. Directly I heard that. I remembered that you had drunk what he had drunk. What had happened to him must have happened to you. Don't ask me how long it was before I found you, and what I felt when I did find you. I do so want to enjoy my happiness. Only let me see you safely home and I ask no more. She helped me to rise with the encouraging words which she might have used to a child. She put my arm in hers and led me carefully along through the wood, as if I had been an old man. Crystal had saved my life, but she would hear of no allusion to it. She knew how the Poisoner had plotted to get rid of me, but nothing that I could say induced her to tell me how she had made the discovery. In view of Trimley Dean my guardian angel dropped my arm. Go on, she said, and let me see the servant let you in before I run home. If she had not been once more wiser than I was, I should have taken her with me to the house. I should have positively refused to let her go back by herself. Nothing that I could say or do had the slightest effect on her resolution. Does the man live who could have taken leave of her calmly in my place? She tore herself away from me with a sigh of bitterness that was dreadful to hear. Oh, my darling, I said, do I distress you? Horribly, she answered, but you were not to blame. Those were her farewell words. I called after her. I tried to follow her. She was lost to me in the darkness. CHAPTER XIII This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Barbara Dirksen. The Guilty River by Wilkie Collins. CHAPTER XIV GLUITY SETTLES THE ACCOUNT A night of fever. A night when I did slumber for a few minutes. Of horrid dreams. This was what I might have expected, and this is what really happened. The fresh morning air flowing through my open window cooled and composed me. The mercy of sleep found me. When I woke and looked at my watch, I was a new man. The hour was noon. I rang my bell. The servant announced that a man was waiting to see me. The same man, sir, who was found in the garden looking at your flowers. I at once gave directions to have him shown up into my bedroom. The delay of dressing was more than I had patience to encounter. Unless I was completely mistaken, here was the very person whom I wanted to enlighten me. Gluty showed himself at the door, with the face ominously wretched as well as ugly. I instantly thought of Christelle. If you bring me bad news, I said, don't keep me waiting for it. It's nothing that need trouble you, sir. I'm dismissed from my master's service. That's all. It was plainly not all. Relieved even by that guarded reply, I pointed to a chair by the bedside. Do you believe that I mean well by you, I asked? I do, sir, with all my heart. Then sit down, Gluty, and make a clean breast of it. He lifted his enormous fist by way of emphasizing his answer. I was within a hare's bread, sir, of striking him. If I hadn't kept my temper I might have killed him. What did he do? Flew into a furious rage. I don't complain of that. I daresay I deserved it. Pleased to excuse my getting up again. I can't look you in the face and tell you of it. He walked away to the window. Even a poor devil like me does sometimes feel it when he has insulted Mr. Roy Lake. He kicked me, say no more about it, sir. I would never have mentioned it if I hadn't had something else to tell you. Only I don't know how. In this difficulty he came back to my bedside. Look here, sir. What I say is, that kick has wiped out the debt of thanks I owe him. Yes, I say the account between us two is settled now on both sides. In two words, sir, if you mean to charge him before the magistrates with attempting your life, I'll take my Bible oath he did attempt it, and you may call me as your witness. There, now it's out. What his master had no doubt inferred was what I saw plainly too. Crystal had saved my life and had been directed how to do it by the poor fellow who had suffered in my cause. We will wait a little before we talk of setting the law on force, I said. In the meantime, Gluty, I want you to tell me what you would tell the magistrate if I called you as a witness. He considered a little. The magistrate would put questions to me, wouldn't he, sir? Very good. You put questions to me, and I'll answer them to the best of my ability. The investigation that followed was far too long and too wearisome to be related here. If I give the substance of it, I shall have done enough. Sometimes when he was awake and supposed that he was alone, sometimes when he was asleep and dreaming, the cur had betrayed himself. It was a paltry vengeance I owned to gratify a malicious pleasure, as I did now, in thinking of him and speaking of him by the degrading name which his morbid humility had suggested. But are the demands of a man's dignity always paid in the ready money of prompt submission? Anyway, it appeared that Gluty had heard enough in the sleeping moments and the solitary moments of his master to give him some idea of the jealous hatred with which the cur regarded me. He had done his best to warn me without actually betraying the man who had rescued him from starvation or the workhouse, and he had failed. But his resolution to do me good service, in return for my kindness to him, far from being shaken, was confirmed by circumstances. When his master returned to the chemical studies which have been already mentioned, Gluty was employed as assistant to the extent of his limited capacity for making himself useful. He had no reason to suppose that I was the object of any of the experiments, until the day before the tea-party. Then he saw the dog enticed into the new cottage and apparently killed by the administration of poison of some sort. After an interval a dose of another kind was poured down the poor creature's throat and he began to revive. A lapse of a quarter of an hour followed the last dose was repeated and the dog soon sprang to his feet again as lively as ever. Gluty was thereupon told to set the animal free and was informed at the same time that he would be instantly dismissed if he mentioned to any living creature what he had just seen. By what process he arrived at the suspicion that my safety might be threatened, by the experiment on the dog, he was entirely unable to explain. It was born in on my mind, sir, and that's all I can tell you, he said. I didn't dare speak to you about it. You wouldn't have believed me. Or, if you did believe me, you might have sent for the police. The one way of putting a stop to murdering mischief, if murdering mischief it might be, was to trust Miss Crystal. That she was fond of you, I don't mean any offence, sir, I pretty well guessed. That she was true as steel and not easily frightened I didn't need to guess, I knew it. Gluty had done his best to prepare Crystal for the terrible confidence which he had determined to repose in her and had not succeeded. What the poor girl must have suffered I could but too readily understand on recalling the startling changes in her look and manner when we met at the river margin of the wood. She was pledged to secrecy under penalty of ruining the man who was trying to save me, and to her presence of mind was trusted the whole responsibility of preserving my life. What a situation for a girl of eighteen! We made it out between us, sir, in two ways Gluty proceeded. First and foremost she was to invite herself to tea, and being at the table she was to watch my master. Whatever she saw him drink she was to insist on your drinking it too. You heard me ask, leave to make the tea? Yes. Well, that was one of the signals agreed on between us. When he sent me away we were certain of what he had it in his mind to do. And when you looked at Miss Crystal and she was too busy with her brooch to notice you was that another signal? It was, sir, when she handled her silver ornament she told me that I might depend on her to forget nothing and to be afraid of nothing. I remembered the quiet firmness in her face. After the prayer that she had said in her own room her steady resolution no longer surprised me. Did you wonder, sir, what possessed her, Gluty went on, when she burst out singing? That was a signal to me. We wanted him out of our way while you were made to drink what he had drunk out of the jug. How did you know that he would not drink the whole contents of the jug? You forget, sir, that I had seen the dog revived by two doses given with a space of time between them. I ought to have remembered this, after what he had already told me. My intelligence brightened a little as I went on. And your accident in the next room was planned, of course, I said. Do you think he saw through it? I should say no. Judging by his looks, he turned pale when he felt the floor shaken by your fall. For once in a way he was honest, honestly frightened. I noticed the same thing, sir, when he picked me up off the floor. A man who can change his complexion at will is a man we haven't heard of yet, Mr. Roy Lake. I had been dressing for some time past, longing to see Crystal, it is needless to say. Is there anything more, I asked, that I ought to know? Only one thing, Mr. Roy Lake, that I can think of, Gloody replied. I'm afraid it's Ms. Crystal's turn next. What do you mean? Well the deaf man lodges at the cottage, he means mischief, and his eye is on Ms. Crystal. Early this morning, sir, I happen to be at the boat house. Somebody, I leave you to guess who it is, has stolen the oars. I was dressed by this time and so eager to get to the cottage that I had already opened my door. What I had just heard brought me back into the room. As a matter, of course, we both suspected the same person of stealing the oars. Had we any proof to justify us? Gloody at once acknowledged that we had no proof. I happened to look at the boat, he said, and I missed the oars. Oh yes, I searched the boat house. No oars, no oars. And nothing more that you have forgotten and ought to tell me. Nothing, sir. I left Gloody to wait by return, being careful to place him under the protection of the upper servants, who would see that he was treated with respect by the household generally. End of Chapter 14, Recording by Barbara Dirksen