|
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 28
Ragobah paused, and coolly bared his right arm to the elbow. There
was a studied deliberation in his movements, which said only too
plainly: "There is no hurry in killing you, for you cannot escape."
I grasped my stick firmly as my only hope, and awaited his onslaught.
My early military drill now stood me in good stead, and to it I owe
my life. Without the knowledge which I had derived from the use of
the broadsword, I should have been all but certain to have attempted
to strike him a downward blow upon the head. This is just what he
was expecting, and it would have cost me my life. He would have had
only to throw up his left arm to catch the blow, while with his right
hand he plunged the knife into my heart. My experience had taught
me how much easier it is to protect one's self from a cutting blow
than from a thrust, and I determined to adopt this latter means of
assault. Ragobah advanced upon me slowly, much as a cat steals upon
an unsuspecting bird. I raised my stick as if to strike him, and he
instinctively threw up his left arm, and advanced upon me. My
opportunity had come; I lowered the point of my cane to the level
of his face, and made a vigorous lunge forward, throwing my whole
weight upon the thrust. As nearly as I could tell, the point of my
stick caught him in the socket of the left eye, just as he sprang
forward, and hurled him backward, blinded and stupefied. Before
he had recovered sufficiently to protect himself, I dealt him a blow
upon the head that brought him quickly to the earth. Without
stopping to ascertain whether or not I had killed him, I fled
precipitately to my lodgings, hastily packed my belongings, and set
out for Matheron Station by the same train I had so fondly believed
would convey Lona and me to our nuptial altar. Words cannot describe
the suffering I endured upon that journey. For the first time since
my terrible desertion I had an opportunity to think, and I did think,
if the pulse of an overwhelming pain, perpetually recurring like the
beat of a loaded wheel, can be called thought. Although there is
no insanity in our family nearer than a great-uncle, I marvel that
I retained my wits under this terrible blow. I seriously
contemplated suicide, and probably should have taken my life had not
my mental condition gradually undergone a change. I was no longer
conscious of suffering, nor of a desire to end my life. I was
simply indifferent. It was all one to me whether I lived or died.
The power of loving or caring for anything or anybody had entirely
left me, and when I would reflect how utterly indifferent I was even
to my own father and mother, I would regard myself as an unnatural
monster. I tried to conceal my lack of affection by a greater
attention to their wishes, and it was in this way that I yielded,
without remonstrance, to those same views regarding my marriage,
to which, but a little while before, I had made such strenuous
objections as to quite enrage my father. I was an only child, and
(as often happens in such cases) my father never could be brought
to realise that I had many years since attained my majority. It
had been his wish, ever since my boyhood, that I should marry your
mother, and he made use, when I was nearly forty, of the selfsame
insistent and coercive methods with which he had sought to subdue my
will when I was but twenty, and at last he attained his end. I had
learned from friends in Bombay that not only had Rama Ragobah
recovered from the blows I had given him, but that, shortly after my
encounter with him, he had married Lona, she whom I had loved, God
only knows how madly! It was all one to me now whether I was
married or single, living or dead. So it was all arranged. I
myself told the lady that, so far as I then understood my feelings,
I had no affection for any person on earth; but it seemed only to
pique her, and I think she determined then and there to make herself
an exception to this universal rule. This is how I came to marry
your mother. There was not the slightest community of thought,
sentiment, or interest between us. The things I liked did not
interest her; what she liked bored me; yet she was pre-eminently a
sensible woman, and when she learned the real state of affairs was
the first to suggest a separation, which was effected. We parted
with the kindliest feelings, and, as you know, remained fast friends
up to her death.
It was nearly a year after the affair on Malabar Hill before I had
the heart to return with your mother to Bombay. I had thought all
emotion forever dead within me, but, ah! how little do we understand
ourselves. Twelve months had not passed, and already I was conscious
of a vague ache--a feeling that something, I scarcely knew what, had
gone wrong, so terribly wrong! I told myself that I was now married,
and had a duty both to my wife and society, and I tried hard to
ignore the ache, on the one hand, and not to permit myself to define
and analyse it on the other. But a man does not have to understand
anatomy in order to break his heart, and so my longing defined itself
even by itself. The old fire, built on a virgin hearth, was far
from out. Society had heaped a mouthful of conventional ashes upon
it, but they had served only to preserve it. From the fiat of the
human heart there is no court of appeal.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|