Мертвая комната. Уровень 2 / The Dead Secret

“Look for my medicine,” said she; “I want it.”

Sarah stood up.

“The doctor,” she said. “Let me call the doctor.”

“No! The medicine – look for the medicine.”

“Which bottle? The opiate – ”

“No. Not the opiate. The other.”

Sarah took a bottle from the table. She looked attentively at the direction on the label, and said that it was not yet time to take that medicine again.

“Give me the bottle.”

“Oh, don't ask me! The doctor said it was as bad as poison, if you took too much.”

Mrs. Treverton's clear gray eyes began to flash. The rosy flush deepened on her cheeks. The commanding hand was raised again.

“Take the cork out of the bottle,” she said, “and give it to me. I want strength. No matter whether I die in an hour's time or a week's. Give me the bottle.”

“No, no – not the bottle!” said Sarah. “There are two doses left. Wait, wait till I get a glass.”

She turned again toward the table. At the same instant Mrs. Treverton raised the bottle to her lips, and drained it of its contents.

“She has killed herself!” cried Sarah.

She ran in terror to the door.

“Stop!” said the voice from the bed, more resolute than ever, already. “Stop! Come back and help me.”

Sarah came back; and added one more to the many pillows which supported the dying woman's head and shoulders.

“Did you unbolt the door?” Mrs. Treverton asked.

“No.”

“I forbid you to go near it again. Get my writing-case, and the pen and ink, from the cabinet near the window.”

Sarah went to the cabinet and opened it. The writing-case, with a sheet of note-paper on it, was placed upon Mrs. Treverton's knees. Mrs. Treverton paused, closed her eyes for a minute, and sighed heavily. Then she began to write: To my Husband.

“Oh, no! no! For God's sake, don't write it!” Sarah cried. “Don't write it to him if you can't tell it to him. Let the Secret die with you and die with me!”

“The Secret must be told,” answered Mrs. Treverton. “My husband must know it. I tried to tell him, and my courage failed me. I can not trust you to tell him. It must be written. Take the pen, and write what I tell you.”

Sarah wept bitterly.

“You have been with me ever since my marriage,” Mrs. Treverton went on. “You have been my friend more than my servant. Do you refuse my last request? Fool! Listen to me. Write, or I shall not rest in my grave. Write, or I will come to you from the other world!”

Sarah cried. At the same instant, the overdose of the medicine began to affect Mrs. Treverton's brain. She rolled her head restlessly from side to side of the pillow.

“Write!” Mrs. Treverton cried, with an awful mimicry of her old stage voice. “Write!”

Sarah waited for the next command. Some minutes elapsed before Mrs. Treverton spoke again. She began to dictate in quiet, deliberate, determined tones. Sarah's tears fell fast; her lips murmured fragments of sentences, expressions of penitence, and exclamations of fear. She nearly filled the first two sides of the paper. Then Mrs. Treverton paused, and signed her name at the end of it

“Sign!” she cried. “Sign 'Sarah Leeson, witness.' No! Write 'Accomplice.' Sign, I insist on it! Sign as I tell you.”

Sarah obeyed. Mrs. Treverton took the paper from her and pointed to it solemnly.

“You will give this to your master,” she said, “when I am dead. You will answer any questions he puts to you. Promise me that you will give the paper to your master. Oh no! I won't trust your promise. I'll have your oath. Get the Bible. Get it, or I shall not rest in my grave. Get it, or I will come to you from the other world. Yes, yes – the Bible the clergyman used. The clergyman – a poor weak man. I frightened him, Sarah. He said, 'Are you at peace with all the world?' and I said, 'All but one[5 - All but one. – Со всеми, кроме одного.].' You know who.”

“The Captain's brother? Oh, don't die at enmity with anybody. Don't die at enmity even with him,” pleaded Sarah.

“The clergyman said so too,” murmured Mrs. Treverton. “'You must forgive him,' the clergyman said. And I said, 'No, I forgive all the world, but not my husband's brother.' The clergyman will pray for me and come back. Will he come back?”

“Yes, yes,” answered Sarah. “He is a good man – he will come back – and oh! tell him that you forgive the Captain's brother! Those vile words he spoke of you when you were married will come home to him some day. Forgive him-forgive him before you die!”

Sarah attempted to remove the Bible softly out of her mistress's sight. The action attracted Mrs. Treverton's attention.

“Stop!” she cried.

She caught at Sarah's hand with a great effort, placed it on the Bible, and held it there.

“Ah!” she said, “Sarah; you can't deceive me even yet.”

She stopped again, smiled a little, whispered to herself rapidly,

“Wait, wait, wait!” then added aloud, with the old stage voice and the old stage gesture:

“No! I won't trust you on your promise. I'll have your oath. Kneel down. These are my last words in this world – disobey them if you dare!”

Sarah dropped on her knees by the bed.

“Swear!” said Mrs. Treverton. “Swear that you will not destroy this paper after I am dead.”

Sarah answered faintly,

“I swear it.”

“Swear that you will not take this paper away with you, if you leave the house, after I am dead.”

Again Sarah said,

“I swear it.”

“Swear!” Mrs. Treverton began for the third time.

Her voice failed.