the law and the lady-第42部分

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pony…chaise　was　announced　at　the　door；　and　a　letter　was　brought
in　to　me　from　Mrs。　Macallan。

〃I　have　no　right　to　control　your　movements；〃　my　mother…in…law
wrote。　〃I　send　the　chaise　to　Mr。　Benjamin's　house；　and　I
sincerely　trust　that　you　will　not　take　your　place　in　it。　I　wish　I
could　persuade　you；　Valeria；　how　truly　I　am　your　friend。　I　have
been　thinking　about　you　anxiously　in　the　wakeful　hours　of　the
night。　_How_　anxiously；　you　will　understand　when　I　tell　you　that
I　now　reproach　myself　for　not　having　done　more　than　I　did　to
prevent　your　unhappy　marriage。　And　yet；　what　more　I　could　have
done　I　don't　really　know。　My　son　admitted　to　me　that　he　was
courting　you　under　an　assumed　name；　but　he　never　told　me　what　the
name　was。　Or　who　you　were；　or　where　your　friends　lived。　Perhaps　I
ought　to　have　taken　measures　to　find　this　out。　Perhaps；　if　I　had
succeeded；　I　ought　to　have　interfered　and　enlightened　you；　even
at　the　sad　sacrifice　of　making　an　enemy　of　my　own　son。　I　honestly
thought　I　did　my　duty　in　expressing　my　disapproval；　and　in
refusing　to　be　present　at　the　marriage。　Was　I　too　easily
satisfied？　It　is　too　late　to　ask。　Why　do　I　trouble　you　with　an
old　woman's　vain　misgivings　and　regrets？　My　child；　if　you　come　to
any　harm；　I　shall　feel　（indirectly）　responsible　for　it。　It　is
this　uneasy　state　of　mind　which　sets　me　writing；　with　nothing　to
say　that　can　interest　you。　Don't　go　to　Dexter！　The　fear　has　been
pursuing　me　all　night　that　your　going　to　Dexter　will　end　badly。
Write　him　an　excuse。　Valeria！　I　firmly　believe　you　will　repent　it
if　you　return　to　that　house。〃

Was　ever　a　woman　more　plainly　warned；　more　carefully　advised；
than　I？　And　yet　warning　and　advice　were　both　thrown　away　on　me。

Let　me　say　for　myself　that　I　was　really　touched　by　the　kindness
of　my　mother…in…law's　letter；　though　I　was　not　shaken　by　it　in
the　smallest　degree。　As　long　as　I　lived；　moved；　and　thought；　my
one　purpose　now　was　to　make　Miserrimus　Dexter　confide　to　me　his
ideas　on　the　subject　of　Mrs。　Eustace　Macallan's　death。　To　those
ideas　I　looked　as　my　guiding　stars　along　the　dark　way　on　which　I
was　going。　I　wrote　back　to　Mrs。　Macallan；　as　I　really　felt
gratefully　and　penitently。　And　then　I　went　out　to　the　chaise。



CHAPTER　XXVII。

MR。　DEXTER　AT　HOME。

　I　FOUND　all　the　idle　boys　in　the　neighborhood　collected　around
the　pony…chaise；　expressing；　in　the　occult　language　of　slang；
their　high　enjoyment　and　appreciation　at　the　appearance　of
〃Ariel〃　in　her　man's　jacket　and　hat。　The　pony　was　fidgety_he_
felt　the　influence　of　the　popular　uproar。　His　driver　sat；　whip　in
hand；　magnificently　impenetrable　to　the　gibes　and　jests　that　were
flying　around　her。　I　said　〃Good…morning〃　on　getting　into　the
chaise。　Ariel　only　said　〃Gee　up！〃　and　started　the　pony。

I　made　up　my　mind　to　perform　the　journey　to　the　distant　northern
suburb　in　silence。　It　was　evidently　useless　for　me　to　attempt　to
speak；　and　experience　informed　me　that　I　need　not　expect　to　hear
a　word　fall　from　the　lips　of　my　companion。　Experience；　however；
is　not　always　infallible。　After　driving　for　half　an　hour　in
stolid　silence；　Ariel　astounded　me　by　suddenly　bursting　into
speech。

〃Do　you　know　what　we　are　coming　to？〃　she　asked；　keeping　her　eyes
straight　between　the　pony's　ears。

〃No；〃　I　answered。　〃I　don't　know　the　road。　What　are　we　coming　to？〃

〃We　are　coming　to　a　canal。〃

〃Well？〃

〃Well；　I　have　half　a　mind　to　upset　you　in　the　canal。〃

This　formidable　announcement　appeared　to　require　some
explanation。　I　took　the　liberty　of　asking　for　it。

〃Why　should　you　upset　me？〃　I　inquired。

〃Because　I　hate　you；〃　was　the　cool　and　candid　reply。

〃What　have　I　done　to　offend　you？〃　I　asked　next。

〃What　do　you　want　with　the　Master？〃　Ariel　asked；　in　her　turn。

〃Do　you　mean　Mr。　Dexter？〃

〃Yes。〃

〃I　want　to　have　some　talk　with　Mr。　Dexter。〃

〃You　don't！　You　want　to　take　my　place。　You　want　to　brush　his　hair
and　oil　his　beard；　instead　of　me。　You　wretch！〃

I　now　began　to　understand。　The　idea　which　Miserrimus　Dexter　had
jestingly　put　into　her　head；　in　exhibiting　her　to　us　on　the
previous　night；　had　been　ripening　slowly　in　that　dull　brain；　and
had　found　its　way　outward　into　words；　about　fifteen　hours
afterward；　under　the　irritating　influence　of　my　presence！

〃I　don't　want　to　touch　his　hair　or　his　beard；〃　I　said。　〃I　leave
that　entirely　to　you。〃

She　looked　around　at　me；　her　fat　face　flushing；　her　dull　eyes
dilating；　with　the　unaccustomed　effort　to　express　herself　in
speech；　and　to　understand　what　was　said　to　her　in　return。

〃Say　that　again；〃　she　burst　out。　〃And　say　it　slower　this　time。〃

I　said　it　again；　and　I　said　it　slower。

〃Swear　it！〃　she　cried；　getting　more　and　more　excited。

I　preserved　my　gravity　（the　canal　was　just　visible　in　the
distance）；　and　swore　it。

〃Are　you　satisfied　now？〃　I　asked。

There　was　no　answer。　Her　last　resources　of　speech　were　exhausted。
The　strange　creature　looked　back　again　straight　between　the
pony's　ears；　emitted　hoarsely　a　grunt　of　relief；　and　never　more
looked　at　me；　never　more　spoke　to　me；　for　the　rest　of　the
journey。　We　drove　past　the　banks　of　the　canal；　and　I　escaped
immersion。　We　rattled；　in　our　jingling　little　vehicle；　through
the　streets　and　across　the　waste　patches　of　ground；　which　I　dimly
remembered　in　the　darkness；　and　which　looked　more　squalid　and
more　hideous　than　ever　in　the　broad　daylight。　The　chaise　tur　ned
down　a　lane；　too　narrow　for　the　passage　of　any　larger　vehicle；
and　stopped　at　a　wall　and　a　gate　that　were　new　objects　to　me。
Opening　the　gate　with　her　key；　and　leading　the　pony；　Ariel
introduced　me　to　the　back　garden　and　yard　of　Miserrimus　Dexter's
rotten　and　rambling　old　house。　The　pony　walked　off　independently
to　his　stable；　with　the　chaise　behind　him。　My　silent　companion
led　me　through　a　bleak　and　barren　kitchen；　and　along　a　stone
passage。　Opening　a　door　at　the　end；　she　admitted　me　to　the　back
of　the　hall；　into　which　Mrs。　Macallan　and　I　had　penetrated　by　the
front　entrance　to　the　house。　Here　Ariel　lifted　a　whistle　which
hung　around　her　neck；　and　blew　the　shrill　trilling　notes　with　the
sound　of　which　I　was　already　familiar　as　the　means　of
communication　between　Miserrimus　Dexter　and　his　slave。　The
whistling　over；　the　slave's　unwilling　lips　struggled　into　speech
for　the　last　time。

〃Wait　till　you　hear　the　Master's　whistle；〃　she　said；　〃then　go
upstairs。〃

So！　I　was　to　be　whistled　for　like　a　dog！　And；　worse　still；　there
was　no　help　for　it　but　to　submit　like　a　dog。　Had　Ariel　any
excuses　to　make？　Nothing　of　the　sort。

She　turned　her　shapeless　back　on　me　and　vanished　into　the　kitchen
region　of　the　house。

After　waiting　for　a　minute　or　two；　and　hearing　no　signal　from　the
floor　above；　I　advanced　into　the　broader　and　brighter　part　of　the
hall；　to　look　by　daylight　at　the　pictures　which　I　had　only
imperfectly　discovered　in　the　darkness　of　the　night。　A　painted
inscription　in　many　colors；　just　under　the　cornice　of　the
ceiling；　informed　me　that　the　works　on　the　walls　were　the
production　of　the　all…accomplished　Dexter　himself。　Not　satisfied
with　being　poet　and　composer；　he　was　painter　as　well。　On　one　wall
the　subjects　were　described　as　〃Illustrations　of　the　Passions；〃
on　the　other；　as　〃Episodes　in　the　Life　of　the　Wandering　Jew。〃
Chance　speculators　like　myself　were　gravely　warned；　by　means　of
the　inscription；　to　view　the　pictures　as　efforts　of　pure
imagination。　〃Persons　who　look　for　mere　Nature　in　works　of　Art〃
（the　inscription　announced）　〃are　persons　to　whom　Mr。　Dexter　does
not　address　himself　with　the　brush。　He　relies　entirely　on　his
imagination。　Nature　puts　him　out。〃

Taking　due　care　to　dismiss　all　ideas　of　Nature　from　my　mind；　to
begin　with；　I　looked　at　the　pictures　which　represented　the
Passions　first。

Little　as　I　knew　critically　of　Art；　I　could　see　that　Miserrimus
Dexter　knew　still　less　of　the　rules　of　drawing；　color；　and
composition。　His　pictures　were；　in　the　strictest　meaning　of　that
expressive　word；　Daubs。　The　diseased　and　riotous　delight　of　the
painter　in　representing　Horrors　was　（with　certain　exceptions　to
be　hereafter　mentioned）　the　one　remarkable　quality　that　I　could
discover　in　the　series　of　his　works。

The　first　of　the　Passion　pictures　illustrated　Revenge。　A　corpse；
in　fancy　costume；　lay　on　the　bank　of　a　foaming　river；　under　the
shade　of　a　giant　tree。　An　infuriated　man；　also　in　fancy　costume；
stood　astride　over　the　dead　body；　with　his　sword　lifted　to　the
lowering　sky；　and　watched；　with　a　horrid　expression　of　delight；
the　blood　of　the　man　whom　he　had　just　killed　dripping　slowly　in　a
procession　of　big　red　drops　down　the　broad　blade　of　his　weapon。
The　next　picture　illustrated　Cruelty；　in　many　compartments。　In
one　I　saw　a　disemboweled　horse　savagely　spurred　on　by　his　rider
at　a　bull…fight。　In　another；　an　aged　philosopher　was　dissecting　a
living　cat；　and　gloating　over　his　work。　In　a　third；　two　pagans
politely　congratulated　each　other　on　the　torture　of　two　saints：
one　saint　was　roasting　on　a　grid…iron；　the　other；　hung　up　to　a
tree　by　his　heels；　had　been　just　skinned；　and　was　not　quite　dead
yet。　Feeling　no　great　desire；　after　these　specimens；　to　look　at
any　more　of　the　illustrated　Passions；　I　turned　to　the　opposite
wall　to　be　instructed　in　the　career　of　the　Wandering　Jew。　Here　a
second　inscription　informed　me　that　the　painter　considered　the
Flying　Dutchman　to　be　no　other　than　the　Wandering　Jew；　pursuing
his　interminable　Journey　by　sea。　The　marine　adventures　of　this
mysterious　personage　were　the　adventures　chosen　for
representation　by　Dexter's　brush。　The　first　picture　showed　me　a
harbor　on　a　rocky　coast。　A　vessel　was　at　anchor；　with　the
helmsman　singing　on　the　deck。　The　sea　in　the　offing　was　black　and
rolling；　thunder…clouds　lay　low　on　the　horizon；　split　by　broad
flashes　of　lightning。　In　the　glare　of　the　lightning；　heaving　and
pitching；　appeared　the　misty　form　of　the　Phantom　Ship　approaching
the　shore。　In　this　work；　badly　as　it　was　painted；　there　were
really　signs　of　a　powerful　imagination；　and　even　of　a　poetical
feeling　for　the　supernatural。　The　next　picture　showed　the　Phantom
Ship；　moored　（to　the　horror　and　astonishment　of　the　helmsman）
behind　the　earthly　vessel　in　the　harbor。　The　Jew　had　stepped　on
shore。　His　boat　was