The mill of silence — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
The mill of silence
John Stuart Mill · en
“No; I’m here, Duke!”
“My God! Renny--do you hear? Come--come at once. No--light the lamp;
I’ve something to show you.”
I struck a match, with shaking hand, and put it to the wick. As the
dull flame sputtered and rose I turned and looked at my friend. The
expression of his face I shall never forget till I die. It was
bloodless--spectral--inhuman; the face of one to whom a great dread
had been realized--a last hope denied.
He held out to me a little soiled and crumpled sheet of paper. I took
it, with a spasm of the heart and breath that seemed to suffocate me.
My eyes turned from and were fascinated by it at once.
“You had better read,” he said. “It’s the last chapter of your own
pretty romance. Make haste--I want to get to business.”
It was from her, as I had foreseen--a few sad words to the old good
friend who had so loved and protected her:
“I must let you know before I go to die. I couldn’t meet you that
morning--what a time ago it seems! He wouldn’t let me, though I cried
and begged him to. I don’t know now what made me do it all; how he
upset my faith in Renny and turned my love to himself in a moment. I
think he has a dreadful influence that made me follow him and obey
him. It doesn’t matter now. I went to him, that’s enough; and he’s
broken my heart. Please ask Renny to forgive me. Perhaps if he had had
a little more patience with me I might have acted different--but I
can’t be certain even of that. I’m going to kill myself, Duke, dear,
and before I do it I just want to say this: I know now you loved poor
Dolly all the time. How I know it I don’t understand, but somehow it’s
quite clear. Oh, what have I thrown away, when I might have been so
happy! You were always good to me, and I thank you with my last
breath. Don’t hurt him, Duke; I don’t think he understands the
difference to me. But he always promised to be a faithful lover--and
yesterday I found that he’s married already. That’s why I’m going to
do it.”
The paper dropped from my hand. Duke picked it up with an evil laugh
and thrust it into his breast pocket.
“Married!” I muttered.
“Oh!” he cried; “it’s all one for that! That’s a family matter. The
question here goes beyond--into the heart of this--this death
warrant.”
He struck savagely where the letter lay and stood staring at me with
gloating eyes.
“Duke--are you going to murder him?”
“I’m going to find her. Let that do for the present--and you’ve got to
help me.”
“Where are we to look? Did the letter give an address?”
“No. She kept her secret to the last. It was a noble one, I swear.
There’s a postmark, though, and that’s my clew. Hurry, will you?”
I seized my hat and stick.
“Duke--for the love of heaven, why must it be too late even now?”
“Because I know it is. Doesn’t that satisfy you? I loved her--do you
understand it now for the first time? The fiend tread on your heels.
Aren’t you ever coming?”