|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 69
"We are like the blind moving in regions unfamiliar to their touch,"
said Sir Walter. "I had hoped so much from the prayer of that just
man. He, indeed, has gone to his reward. He is with the boy he
loved better than anything on earth; but for us is left great sorrow
and distress. Still, prayers continue to be answered, Mannering.
I have prayed for patience, and I find myself patient. The iron
has entered my soul. The horror of publicity--the morbid agony I
experienced when I knew my name must be dragged through every
newspaper in England--these pangs are past. My life seems to have
ended in one sense, and, looking back, I cannot fail to see how
little I grasped the realities of existence, how I took my easy
days as a matter of course and never imagined that for me, too,
extreme suffering and misery were lying in wait. Each man's own
burden seems the hardest to bear, I imagine, and to me these events
have shrivelled the very marrow in my bones. They scorched me, and
the glare, thrown from the larger world into the privacy of my life,
made me feel that I could call on the hills to cover me. But now I
can endure all."
"You must not look at it so, Sir Walter. Everybody knows that you
have done no wrong, and if your judgment is questioned, what is it?
Only the fate every man--great or small, famous or insignificant--
has to bear. You can't escape criticism in this world, any more
than you can escape calumny. It is something that you can now
speak so steadfastly, preserve such patience, and see so clearly,
too. But, for my part, clear seeing only increases my anxiety
to-night. I don't personally care a button for the welfare of
those men, since they declined to take my advice; but I am human,
and as I suffer with a sick patient and rejoice when he recovers,
so I cannot help suffering at the thought of the risk these four
are running. They sit there, I suppose, or else walk about. They
wear gas masks, and carry weapons in their hands. But if we are
opposed to a blind, deaf, unreasoning force, which acts
unconsciously and inevitably, then the fate of ten men would be
just as uncertain as the fate of one. The thing operates by day
or night--that much has been proved--and, since it is probably
acting automatically, as lightning or steam, how can they escape?"
"This invisible death-dealing force may be in the control of a
human mind, remember."
"It is beyond the bounds of possibility, Sir Walter."
"You are a rash man to affirm anything so definite, after what you
have gone through with the rest of us. Let me, in my turn, urge
you to go to your rest. These things have told upon you. You are
only flesh and blood, not iron, as you fancy. The men are all
right so far."
"I'll get something to eat and drink," said Mannering, "and leave
you in peace for a while."
"Do. You will find all you need in the dining-room. I directed
Masters to leave ample there, in case the detectives might want
food."
"Shall I bring you something--a whisky, and a biscuit?"
"No, no. I need nothing."
The doctor went his way, and passed an hour with meat and drink.
Then he felt an overpowering desire to sleep, but resisted it,
lighted his pipe again, and, resumed his march in the hall. He
listened presently at the library door, and was gratified to hear
a gentle but steady snore. The sound pleased Mannering well.
He padded about once more, resolved to keep awake until the vigil
was ended. Then he would go to bed and sleep. It was now past
three o'clock on a still, winter night--a lull and interval
between yesterday's storm and rough weather yet to come. The
doctor went out of doors for a time and tramped the terrace. A
waning moon had risen, and the night was mild and cloudy.
Bright light shot out like fans into the murk from the east and
south windows of the Grey Room. Returning to the house, the
watcher listened at the foot of the staircase, and heard the mumble
of men's voices and the sound of feet. They were changing the
guard, and the detective in the corridor gave up his place to one
from inside. All was well so far.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|