Мертвая комната. Уровень 2 / The Dead Secret

Treverton's chamber was a large, lofty room in the western front of the house.

“Mistress,” said Sarah Leeson, “my master has left the room, and has sent me here in his place.”

“Light! Give me more light.”

The feebleness of mortal sickness was in the voice; but the accent of the speaker sounded resolute. The strong nature of the mistress and the weak nature of the maid came out, even in that short interchange of words.

Sarah lit two candles and placed them hesitatingly on a table by the bedside.

She waited for a moment and then undrew the curtains.

The disease of Mrs. Treverton was one of the most terrible of all the maladies that afflict humanity. The hand of Death was signing to her already from the Gates of the Grave.

Mrs. Treverton held up her hand.

“Bolt the door,” she said, with the accent of resolution. “Bolt the door. Let no one in.”

“No one?” repeated Sarah, faintly. “Not the doctor? Not even my master?”

“Not the doctor – not even your master,” said Mrs.

Treverton, and pointed to the door.

The hand was weak; but it was the gesture of command.

Sarah bolted the door, returned irresolutely to the bedside, and said in a whisper:

“Have you told my master?”

“No,” was the answer. “I sent for him, to tell him. I love him so dearly! And I wanted to tell him, but he talked of the child. Sarah! He did nothing but talk of the child. That silenced me.”

Sarah clasped her hands over her face, and groaned to herself,

“Oh, what will happen! What will happen now!”

Mrs.

Treverton's eyes softened and moistened when she spoke of her love for her husband. She lay silent for a few minutes. Then she turned her head uneasily toward the chair in which her attendant was sitting, and spoke again.

“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.