---

Скачать книгу

---

I turned cold from head to foot, and shuddered, and shivered, and knew what a deadly panic of fear was, for the first time in my life.’

      ‘Was there anything remarkable in the lady’s personal appearance?’ the Doctor asked.

      ‘Nothing!’ was the vehement reply. ‘Here is the true description of her: the ordinary English lady; the clear cold blue eyes, the fine rosy complexion, the inanimately polite manner, the large good-humoured mouth, the too plump cheeks and chin: these, and nothing more.’

      ‘Was there anything strange in her expression, when you first looked at her?’

      ‘There was natural curiosity to see me; and perhaps some astonishment also. But if I could get to the door, I would run out of the room, she frightened me so! I was not even able to stand up – I sank back in my chair; I stared at the calm blue eyes that were only looking at me with a gentle surprise. To say they affected me like the eyes of a serpent is to say nothing. I felt her soul in them. That woman is destined to be the evil genius of my life. She said, “I am afraid the heat of the room is too much for you; will you try my smelling bottle[5]?” I heard those kind words; and I remember nothing else – I fainted. When I recovered my senses, the company had all gone; only the lady of the house was with me. For the moment I could say nothing to her. As soon I could speak, I implored her to tell me the whole truth about that woman. The had been her friend from her girlhood, they were like sisters. She knew her positively to be as good, as innocent, as the greatest saint that ever lived. But I felt an ordinary forewarning of danger in the presence of an enemy. I went next to the man whom I am to marry. I implored him to release me from my promise. He refused. I declared I would break my engagement. He showed me letters from his sisters, letters from his brothers, and his dear friends-all entreating him to think again before he made me his wife. All repeating reports of me[6] in Paris, Vienna, and London, which are vile lies. “If you refuse to marry me,” he said, “you admit that these reports are true.” What could I answer? He was plainly right: if I persisted in my refusal, the utter destruction of my reputation would be the result. The night has passed. I am here, with my conviction that innocent woman has a fatal influence over my life. I am here with the question. Sir, what am I – a demon who has seen the avenging angel? or only a poor mad woman with a deranged mind?’

      Doctor Wybrow rose from his chair. He was strongly and painfully impressed by what he had heard. The conviction of the woman’s wickedness forced itself on him. He tried vainly to think of her as a person with a morbidly sensitive imagination; the effort was beyond him.

      ‘I have already given you my opinion,’ he said. ‘As for the impressions you have confided to me, I can only say that your case is more spiritual than medical. Of course you can be sure: what you have said to me in this room will not pass out of it. Your confession is safe.’

      ‘Is that all?’ she asked.

      ‘That is all,’ he answered.

      She put some money on the table.

      ‘Thank you, sir. There is your fee.’

      With those words she rose. The Doctor turned away his head, he did not want to take anything from her.

      ‘Take it back; I don’t want my fee,’ he said.

      She did not hear him. She said slowly to herself,

      ‘Let the end come. I submit.’

      She drew her veil over her face, bowed to the Doctor, and left the room.

      He rang the bell, and followed her into the hall. As the servant closed the door, a sudden impulse of curiosity sprang up in the Doctor’s mind. He said to the servant,

      ‘Follow her, and find out her name.’

      The servant took his hat and hurried into the street.

      The Doctor went back to the consulting-room. Had the woman left an infection of wickedness in the house? He ran out into the hall again, and opened the door. The servant had disappeared; it was too late to call him back. But one refuge was now open to him – the refuge of work. He got into his carriage and went his rounds among his patients.

      In the evening the servant reported the result of his errand.

      ‘The lady’s name is the Countess Narona. She lives at-’

      The Doctor entered his consulting-room. The fee still lay on the table. He sealed it up in an envelope and addressed it to the ‘Poor-box’[7]. The servant asked,

      ‘Do you dine at home today, sir?’

      After a moment’s hesitation he said, ‘No: I’ll dine at the club.’

      Doctor Wybrow wanted to hear what the world said of the Countess Narona.

      Chapter III

      Doctor Wybrow lit his cigar, and looked round him at his brethren. The room was well filled. When he inquired if anybody knew the Countess Narona, everybody was astonished. What an absurd question! Every one knew the Countess Narona. An adventuress with a European reputation of the blackest possible colour – such was the general description of the woman with the deathlike complexion and the glittering eyes. It was doubtful whether she was really, what she called herself, a Dalmatian lady[8]. It was doubtful whether she had ever been married to the Count whose widow she assumed to be. It was doubtful whether the man who accompanied her in her travels (under the name of Baron Rivar, and in the character of her brother) was her brother at all. Report pointed to the Baron as a gambler at every ‘table’ on the Continent. And his so-called sister had escaped from a famous trial for poisoning in Vienna. Moreover, she had been known in Milan as a spy. Her apartment in Paris was nothing less than a private gambling-house.

      Only one member of the assembly in the smoking-room took the part of this woman. But the man was a lawyer, and his interference was naturally attributed to the spirit of contradiction.

      The Doctor inquired the name of the gentleman whom the Countess was going to marry.

      His friends said that the Countess Narona had borrowed money in Homburg of Lord Montbarry, and had then deluded him into making her a proposal of marriage[9]. The younger members of the club sent a waiter for the ‘Peerage’[10]; and read aloud about the nobleman.

      ‘Herbert John Westwick. First Baron Montbarry, of Montbarry, King’s County, Ireland. Created a Peer for distinguished military services in India. Born, 1812. Forty-eight years old, at the present time. Not married. Will be married next week. Heir presumptive, his lordship’s next brother, Stephen Robert, married to Ella, youngest daughter of the Reverend Silas Marden, Rector of Runnigate, and has three daughters. Younger brothers of his lordship, Francis and Henry, unmarried. Sisters of his lordship, Lady Barville, married to Sir Theodore Barville, Bart.; and Anne, widow of the late Peter Norbury, Esq., of Norbury Cross. Three brothers Westwick, Stephen, Francis, and Henry; and two sisters, Lady Barville and Mrs. Norbury. Not one of the five will be present at the marriage, Doctor; and not one of the five will leave a stone unturned to stop it, if the Countess will only give them a chance. Add to these hostile members of the family another offended relative not mentioned in the ‘Peerage,’ a young lady-’

      A sudden outburst of protest stopped the disclosure.

      ‘Don’t mention the poor girl’s name. There is but one excuse for Montbarry – he is either a madman or a fool.’

      The Doctor spoke confidentially to his neighbour and discovered that the lady was deserted by Lord Montbarry. Her name was Agnes Lockwood.

      Soon a member of the club entered the smoking-room. His appearance instantly produced a dead silence. Doctor Wybrow’s neighbour whispered to him, ‘Montbarry’s brother – Henry Westwick!’

      The new-comer looked said, with a bitter smile,

      ‘You

---

Скачать книгу