The Woman in White Wilkie Collins (bts books to read txt) š
- Author: Wilkie Collins
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I returned to Limmeridge House early enough in the evening to take leave of Mr. Kyrle. He and his clerk, and the driver of the fly, went back to London by the night train. On their departure an insolent message was delivered to me from Mr. Fairlieā āwho had been carried from the room in a shattered condition, when the first outbreak of cheering answered my appeal to the tenantry. The message conveyed to us āMr. Fairlieās best congratulations,ā and requested to know whether āwe contemplated stopping in the house.ā I sent back word that the only object for which we had entered his doors was accomplishedā āthat I contemplated stopping in no manās house but my ownā āand that Mr. Fairlie need not entertain the slightest apprehension of ever seeing us or hearing from us again. We went back to our friends at the farm to rest that night, and the next morningā āescorted to the station, with the heartiest enthusiasm and good will, by the whole village and by all the farmers in the neighbourhoodā āwe returned to London.
As our view of the Cumberland hills faded in the distance, I thought of the first disheartening circumstances under which the long struggle that was now past and over had been pursued. It was strange to look back and to see, now, that the poverty which had denied us all hope of assistance had been the indirect means of our success, by forcing me to act for myself. If we had been rich enough to find legal help, what would have been the result? The gain (on Mr. Kyrleās own showing) would have been more than doubtfulā āthe loss, judging by the plain test of events as they had really happened, certain. The law would never have obtained me my interview with Mrs. Catherick. The law would never have made Pesca the means of forcing a confession from the Count.
IITwo more events remain to be added to the chain before it reaches fairly from the outset of the story to the close.
While our new sense of freedom from the long oppression of the past was still strange to us, I was sent for by the friend who had given me my first employment in wood engraving, to receive from him a fresh testimony of his regard for my welfare. He had been commissioned by his employers to go to Paris, and to examine for them a fresh discovery in the practical application of his art, the merits of which they were anxious to ascertain. His own engagements had not allowed him leisure time to undertake the errand, and he had most kindly suggested that it should be transferred to me. I could have no hesitation in thankfully accepting the offer, for if I acquitted myself of my commission as I hoped I should, the result would be a permanent engagement on the illustrated newspaper, to which I was now only occasionally attached.
I received my instructions and packed up for the journey the next day. On leaving Laura once more (under what changed circumstances!) in her sisterās care, a serious consideration recurred to me, which had more than once crossed my wifeās mind, as well as my own, alreadyā āI mean the consideration of Marianās future. Had we any right to let our selfish affection accept the devotion of all that generous life? Was it not our duty, our best expression of gratitude, to forget ourselves, and to think only of her? I tried to say this when we were alone for a moment, before I went away. She took my hand, and silenced me at the first words.
āAfter all that we three have suffered together,ā she said, āthere can be no parting between us till the last parting of all. My heart and my happiness, Walter, are with Laura and you. Wait a little till there are childrenās voices at your fireside. I will teach them to speak for me in their language, and the first lesson they say to their father and mother shall beā āWe canāt spare our aunt!ā
My journey to Paris was not undertaken alone. At the eleventh hour Pesca decided that he would accompany me. He had not recovered his customary cheerfulness since the night at the Opera, and he determined to try what a weekās holiday would do to raise his spirits.
I performed the errand entrusted to me, and drew out the necessary report, on the fourth day from our arrival in Paris. The fifth day I arranged to devote to sightseeing and amusements in Pescaās company.
Our hotel had been too full to accommodate us both on the same floor. My room was on the second story, and Pescaās was above me, on the third. On the morning of the fifth day I went upstairs to see if the Professor was ready to go out. Just before I reached the landing I saw his door opened from the insideā āa long, delicate, nervous hand (not my friendās hand certainly) held it ajar. At the same time I heard Pescaās voice saying eagerly, in low tones, and in his own languageā āāI remember the name, but I donāt know the man. You saw at the Opera he was so changed that I could not recognise him. I will forward the reportā āI can do no more.ā
āNo more need be done,ā answered the second voice. The door opened wide, and the light-haired man with the scar on his cheekā āthe man I had seen following Count Foscoās cab a week beforeā ācame out. He bowed as I drew aside to let him passā āhis face was fearfully paleā āand he held fast by the banisters as he descended the stairs.
I pushed open the door and entered Pescaās room. He was crouched up, in the strangest manner, in a corner of the sofa. He seemed to shrink from me when I approached him.
āAm I disturbing you?ā I asked. āI did not know you had a friend with
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