Misery (22 page)

N
o, surely
n
ot, his mi
n
d protested u
n
easily. The po
n
y-trap was flyi
n
g up Calthorpe Hill. The ma
n
or house itself was dark, but -- ah, good! -- there was still a si
n
gle light o
n
i
n
Mrs. Ramage's cottage.

      "Hup, Mary!" he cried, a
n
d cracked the whip, wi
n
ci
n
g.
N
ot much further, girl, a
n
d you ca
n
rest a bit!"

Surely, surely
n
ot what you're thi
n
ki
n
g!!

     But Shi
nn
y's exami
n
atio
n
of Geoffrey's broke
n
ribs a
n
d sprai
n
ed shoulder had seemed purely perfu
n
ctory, a
n
d he had spoke
n
barely a word to Ia
n
, i
n
spite of the ma
n
's deep grief a
n
d freque
n
t i
n
cohere
n
t cries.
N
o -- after a visit which
n
ow seemed
n
o lo
n
ger tha
n
the most mi
n
imal sort of social co
n
ve
n
tio
n
would dema
n
d, Shi
nn
y had asked quietly: "Is she -- ?"

     "Yes, i
n
the parlor," Ia
n
had ma
n
aged. "My poor darli
n
g lies i
n
the parlor. Kiss her for me, Shi
nn
y, a
n
d tell her I'll be with her soo
n
!"

     Ia
n
the
n
had burst i
n
to tears agai
n
, a
n
d after mutteri
n
g some half-heard word of co
n
dole
n
ce, Shi
nn
y had passed i
n
to the parlor. It
n
ow seemed to Geoffrey that the old sawbo
n
es had bee
n
i
n
there a rather lo
n
g time . . . or perhaps that was o
n
ly faulty recollectio
n
. But whe
n
he came out he had looked almost cheerful, a
n
d there was
n
othi
n
g faulty about this recollectio
n
, Geoffrey felt sure -- that expressio
n
was too out of place i
n
that room of grief a
n
d tears, a room where Mrs. Ramage had already hu
n
g the black fu
n
erary curtai
n
s.

     Geoffrey had followed the old doctor but a
n
d spoke hesita
n
tly to him i
n
the kitche
n
. He hoped, he said, that the doctor would prescribe a sleepi
n
g powder for Ia
n
, who really did seem quite ill.

Shi
nn
y had seemed completely distracted, however. "It's
n
ot a bit like Miss Evely
n
-Hyde," he said. "I have satisfied myself of that."

     A
n
d he had retur
n
ed to his calèche without so much as a respo
n
se to Geoffrey's questio
n
. Geoffrey we
n
t back i
n
side, already forgetti
n
g the doctor's odd remark, already chalki
n
g Shi
nn
y's equally odd behavior off to age, weariless, a
n
d his ow
n
sort of grief. His thoughts had tur
n
ed to Ia
n
agai
n
, a
n
d he determi
n
ed that, with
n
o sleepi
n
g powder forthcomi
n
g, he would simply have to pour whiskey dow
n
Ia
n
's throat u
n
til the poor fellow passed out.

     Forgetti
n
g . . . dismissi
n
g.

     U
n
til
n
ow.

It's
n
ot a bit like Miss Evely
n
-Hyde. I have satisfied myself of that.

Of what?

     Geoffrey did
n
ot k
n
ow, but he i
n
te
n
ded to fi
n
d out,
n
o matter what the cost to his sa
n
ity might be -- a
n
d he recog
n
ized that the cost might be high.

      Mrs. Ramage was still up whe
n
Geoffrey bega
n
to hammer o
n
the cottage door, although it was already two hours past her
n
ormal bedtime. Si
n
ce Misery had passed away, Mrs. Ramage fou
n
d herself putti
n
g her bedtime further a
n
d further back. If she could got put a
n
e
n
d to her restless tossi
n
g a
n
d tur
n
i
n
g, she could at least postpo
n
e the mome
n
t at which she bega
n
it.

     Although she was the most levelheaded a
n
d practical of wome
n
, the sudde
n
outburst of k
n
ocki
n
g startled a little scream from her, a
n
d she scalded herself with the hot milk she had bee
n
pouri
n
g from pot to cup. Lately she seemed always o
n
edge, always o
n
the verge of a scream. It was
n
ot grief, this feeli
n
g, although she was
n
early overwhelmed with grief -- this was a stra
n
ge, thu
n
dery feeli
n
g that she could
n
't ever remember havi
n
g before. It sometimes seemed to her that thoughts better left u
n
recog
n
ized were circli
n
g arou
n
d her, just beyo
n
d the grasp of her weary, bitterly sad mi
n
d.

     "Who k
n
ocks at te
n
?" she cried at the door. "Whoever it is, I tha
n
k ye
n
ot for the bur
n
I've give
n
m'self!"

"It's Geoffrey, Mrs. Ramage! Geoffrey Alliburto
n
! Ope
n
the door, for God's

sake!"

     Mrs. Ramage's mouth dropped ope
n
a
n
d she was halfway to the door before she remembered she was i
n
her
n
ightgow
n
a
n
d cap. She had
n
ever heard Geoffrey sou
n
d so, a
n
d would
n
ot have believed it if someo
n
e had told her of it. If there was a ma
n
i
n
all E
n
gla
n
d with a heart stouter tha
n
that of her beloved My Lord, the
n
it was Geoffrey -- yet his voice trembled like the voice of a woma
n
o
n
the verge of hysterics.

"A mi
n
ute, Mr. Geoffrey! I'm half-u
n
clad!"

     "Devil take it!" Geoffrey cried. "I do
n
't care if you're starkers, Mrs. Ramage! Ope
n
this door! Ope
n
it i
n
the
n
ame of Jesus!"

      She stood o
n
ly a seco
n
d, the
n
we
n
t to the door, u
n
barred it, a
n
d threw it ope
n
. Geoffrey's look did more tha
n
stu
n
her, a
n
d agai
n
she heard the dim thu
n
der of black thoughts somewhere back i
n
her head.

      Geoffrey stood o
n
the threshold of the housekeeper's cottage i
n
a
n
odd sla
n
ti
n
g posture, as if his spi
n
e had bee
n
warped out of shape by lo
n
g years carryi
n
g a peddler's sack. His right ha
n
d was pressed betwee
n
his left arm a
n
d left side. His hair was i
n
a ta
n
gle. His dark-brow
n
eyes bur
n
ed out of his white face. His dress was remarkable for o
n
e as careful -- da
n
dified, some would have said -- about his clothi
n
g as Geoffrey Alliburto
n
usually was. He wore a
n
old smoki
n
g jacket with the belt askew, a
n
ope
n
-throated white shirt, a
n
d a pair of rough serge pa
n
ts that would have looked more at home upo
n
the legs of a iti
n
era
n
t garde
n
er tha
n
upo
n
those of the richest ma
n
i
n
Little Du
n
thorpe. O
n
his