Мертвая комната. Уровень 2 / The Dead Secret

The discreet old lady finally decided to buy furniture, and hang a card in the parlor window to inform the public that she had furnished apartments[14 - furnished apartments – меблированные комнаты] to let. By the summer the apartments were ready. Soon a personage in black applied to look at the rooms, was satisfied, and engaged them for a newly married lady and gentleman. The personage in black was Captain Treverton's servant, and the lady and gentleman were Mr. and Mrs. Frankland.

From the moment when Mr.

and Mrs. Frankland entered the house, Miss Mowlem began to study them with all the ardor of an industrious scholar.

The longer we live the more information there is to acquire. On the morning of the eighth day, Miss Mowlem was, as usual, near the key-hole of the drawing-room door. Then she descended to the kitchen, breathless with excitement, to announce a fresh discovery to her venerable mother.

“What do you think she's doing now?” cried Miss Mowlem.

“Nothing that's useful,” answered Mrs.

Mowlem, with sarcastic readiness.

“She's sitting on his knee! Mother, did you ever sit on father's knee when you were married?”

“Certainly not, my dear. When me and your poor father married, we were not flighty young people.”

“She's got her head on his shoulder,” proceeded Miss Mowlem, more and more agitatedly, “and her arms round his neck – both her arms, mother!”

“I won't believe it,” exclaimed Mrs. Mowlem, indignantly. “A lady like her, with riches, and accomplishments! Don't tell me, I won't believe it!”

It was true though.

Mrs. Frankland was sitting on her husband's knee. She sat for some time, then drew back a little, raised her head, and looked earnestly into the quiet, meditative face of the blind man.

“Lenny, you are very silent this morning,” she said. “What are you thinking about? If you tell me all your thoughts, I will tell you all mine.”

“Do you really want to hear all my thoughts?” asked Leonard.

“Yes; all. Tell me what you were thinking of just now! Me?”

“Not exactly of you.”

“Oh! Are you tired of me in eight days? Ah! You laugh. Oh, Lenny, I love you so; how can I think of anybody but you? No! I shan't kiss you. I want to know what you were thinking about first.”

“Of a dream, Rosamond, that I had last night.”

“What dream was it, Lenny?”

“A dream of the place where I first met you when we were both children.