The International Monthly, Volume 4, No. 3, October, 1851Various
History
The International Monthly, Volume 4, No. 3, October, 1851
Various
Art, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Science -- History -- Periodicals
The jaw quivered a little as he uttered the last words, but at the same
moment John Best, the good woman's husband, entered the room with a hurried
step, drew Mr. Short, the surgeon, aside, and whispered something in his
ear.
"Good Heaven!" exclaimed the surgeon. "Impossible, Best! Has the man got a
horse? mine's at the farm."
"Yes, sir, yes!" replied the man, eagerly. "He has got a horse; but you had
better make haste."
Mr. Short dashed out of the room; but before he left it, John Ayliffe was a
corpse.
CHAPTER XLV.
Mrs. Hazleton found the inconvenience of having a dear friend. It was in
vain that she tried to get rid of her visitor. The visitor would not be got
rid of. She was deaf to hints; she paid no attention to any kind of
inuendoes; and she looked so knowing, so full of important secrets, so
quietly mischievous, that Mrs. Hazleton was cowed by that most unnerving of
all things, the consciousness of meditated crime. She could not help
thinking that the fair widow saw into her thoughts and purposes--she could
not help doubting the impenetrability of the veil behind which hypocrisy
hides the hideous features of unruly passion--she could not help thinking
that the keen-sighted and astute must perceive some of the movements at
least of the rude movers of the painted puppets of the face--the smile, the
gay looks, the sparkling eyes, the calm placid brow, the dignified
serenity, which act their part in the glittering scene of the world, too
often worked by the most harsh, foul, and brutal of all the motives of the
human heart. But she was irritated too, as well as fearful; and there was a
sort of combat went on between impatience and apprehension. Had she given
way to inclination she would have ordered one of her servants to take the
intruder by the shoulders and put her out of doors; but for more than an
hour after the time she had fixed for setting out, vague fears--however
groundless and absurd--were sufficiently powerful to restrain her temper.
She was not of a character, however, to be long cowed by any thing. She had
great confidence in herself--in her own resources--in her own conduct and
good fortune likewise. That confidence might have been a little shaken
indeed by events which had lately occurred; but anger soon rallied it, and
brought it back to her aid. She asked herself if she were a fool to dread
that woman--what it was she had discovered--what it was that she could
testify. She had merely seen her doing what almost every lady did a hundred
times in the year in those day--preparing some simples in the still-room;
and gradually as she found that gentle hints proved unsuccessful, she
resumed her natural dignity of demeanor. That again gave way to a chilling
silence, and then to a somewhat irritable imperiousness, and rising from
her chair, she begged her visitor to excuse her, alledging that she had
business of importance to transact which would occupy her during the whole
day.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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