Adventure stories; Fiction; Mystery fiction; Short stories
For more than an hour the young lady remained closeted with Mr. Jones;
and at the end of that time, the night being now come completely, they
left the house in company. This was the first time since the arrival of
his lodger, that Somerset had found himself alone with the Irish widow;
and without the loss of any more time than was required by decency, he
stepped to the foot of the stairs and hailed her by her name. She came
instantly, wreathed in weak smiles and with a nodding head; and when the
young man politely offered to introduce her to the treasures of his art,
she swore that nothing could afford her greater pleasure, for, though she
had never crossed the threshold, she had frequently observed his
beautiful pictures through the door. On entering the dining-room, the
sight of a bottle and two glasses prepared her to be a gentle critic; and
as soon as the pictures had been viewed and praised, she was easily
persuaded to join the painter in a single glass. ‘Here,’ she said, ‘are
my respects; and a pleasure it is, in this horrible house, to see a
gentleman like yourself, so affable and free, and a very nice painter, I
am sure.’ One glass so agreeably prefaced, was sure to lead to the
acceptance of a second; at the third, Somerset was free to cease from the
affectation of keeping her company; and as for the fourth, she asked it
of her own accord. ‘For indeed,’ said she, ‘what with all these clocks
and chemicals, without a drop of the creature life would be impossible
entirely. And you seen yourself that even M’Guire was glad to beg for
it. And even himself, when he is downhearted with all these cruel
disappointments, though as temperate a man as any child, will be
sometimes crying for a glass of it. And I’ll thank you for a thimbleful
to settle what I got.’ Soon after, she began with tears to narrate the
deathbed dispositions and lament the trifling assets of her husband.
Then she declared she heard ‘the master’ calling her, rose to her feet,
made but one lurch of it into the still-life rockery, and with her head
upon the lobster, fell into stertorous slumbers.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account