The Thirteenth Tale- 第37部分

john　shook　his　head。　he’d　heard　this　a　dozen　times；　this　idea　the　missus　clung　to；　that　hester　would　be　ing　back。　the　whole　village　knew　she　would　not　e　back。　the　maudsleys’　servant　had　heard　everything。　she　professed　to　have　seen　it；　too；　and　more　besides；　and　by　now　it　was　impossible　that　there　was　a　single　adult　in　the　village　who　did　not　know　for　a　fact　that　the　plain…faced　governess　had　been　carrying　on　an　adulterous　affair　with　the　doctor。

it　was　inevitable　that　one　day　rumors　of　hester’s　“behavior”　（a　village　euphemism　for　misbehavior）　should　reach　the　ears　of　the　missus。　at　first　she　was　scandalized。　she　refused　to　entertain　the　idea　that　hester—her　hester—could　have　done　such　a　thing。　but　when　she　reported　angrily　to　john　what　was　being　said；　he　only　confirmed　it。　he　had　been　at　the　doctor’s　that　day；　he　reminded　her；　collecting　the　child。　he　had　heard　it　directly　from　the　housemaid。　on　the　very　day　it　occurred。　and　besides；　why　would　hester　have　left　so　suddenly；　without　warning；　if　something　out　of　the　ordinary　hadn’t　occurred？

‘her　family；“　the　missus　stammered；　”an　emergency…“

‘where’s　the　letter；　then？　she’d　have　written；　wouldn’t　she；　if　she　meant　to　e　back？　she’d　have　explained。　have　you　had　a　letter？“

the　missus　shook　her　head。

‘well　then；“　finished　john；　unable　to　keep　the　satisfaction　from　his　voice；　”she’s　done　something　that　she　didn’t　ought　to；　and　she　won’t　be　ing　back。　she’s　gone　for　good。　take　it　from　me。“

the　missus　went　round　and　around　it　in　her　head。　she　didn’t　know　what　to　believe。　the　world　had　bee　a　very　confusing　place。

gone！

only　charlie　was　unaffected。　there　were　changes；　of　course。　the　proper　meals　that　under　hester’s　regime　had　been　placed　outside　the　door　at　breakfast；　lunch　and　dinner　became　occasional　sandwiches；　a　cold　chop　and　a　tomato；　a　bowl　of　congealed　scrambled　egg；　appearing　at　unpredictable　intervals；　whenever　the　missus　remembered。　it　didn’t　make　any　difference　to　charlie。　if　he　felt　hungry　and　it　was　there；　he　might　eat　a　mouthful　of　yesterday’s　chop；　or　a　dry　end　of　bread；　but　if　it　isn’t　there　he　wouldn’t；　and　his　hunger　didn’t　bother　him。　he　had　a　more　powerful　hunger　to　worry　about。　it　was　the　essence　of　his　life　and　something　that　hester；　in　her　arrival　and　in　her　departure；　had　not　changed。

yet　change　did　e　for　charlie；　though　it　had　nothing　to　do　with　hester。

from　time　to　time　a　letter　would　e　to　the　house；　and　from　time　to　time　someone　would　open　it。　a　few　days　after　john…the…dig’s　ment　about　there　having　been　no　letter　from　hester；　the　missus；　finding　herself　in　the　hall；　noticed　a　small　pile　of　letters　gathering　dust　on　the　mat　under　the　letter　box。　she　opened　them。

one　from　charlie’s　banker：　was　he　interested　in　an　investment　opportunity…　？

the　second　was　an　invoice　from　the　builders　for　the　work　done　on　the　roof。

was　the　third　from　hester？

no。　the　third　was　from　the　asylum。　isabelle　was　dead。

the　missus　stared　at　the　letter。　dead！　isabelle！　could　it　be　true？　influenza；　the　letter　said。

charlie　would　have　to　be　told；　but　the　missus　quailed　at　the　prospect。　better　talk　to　dig　first；　she　resolved；　putting　the　letters　aside。　but　later；　when　john　was　sitting　at　his　place　at　the　kitchen　table　and　she　was　topping　up　his　cup　with　fresh　tea；　there　remained　no　trace　of　the　letter　in　her　mind。　it　had　joined　those　other；　increasingly　frequent；　lost　moments；　lived　and　felt　but　unrecorded　and　then　lost。　nevertheless；　a　few　days　later；　passing　through　the　hall　with　a　tray　of　burnt　toast　and　bacon；　she　mechanically　put　the　letters　on　the　tray　with　the　food；　though　she　had　no　memory　at　all　of　their　contents。

and　then　the　days　passed　and　nothing　seemed　to　happen　at　all；　except　that　the　dust　got　thicker；　and　the　grime　accumulated　on　the　windowpanes；　and　the　playing　cards　crept　farther　and　farther　from　their　box　in　the　drawing　room；　and　it　became　easier　and　easier　to　forget　that　there　had　ever　been　a　hester。

it　was　john…the…dig　who　realized　in　the　silence　of　the　days　that　something　had　happened。

he　was　an　outdoors　man　and　not　domesticated。　nevertheless　he　knew　that　there　es　a　time　when　cups　cannot　be　made　to　do　for　one　more　cup　of　tea　without　being　first　washed；　and　he　knew　moreover　that　a　plate　that　has　held　raw　meat　cannot　be　used　straight　after　for　cooked。　he　saw　how　things　were　going　with　the　missus；　he　was　no　fool。　so　when　the　pile　of　dirty　plates　and　cups　piled　up；　he　would　set　to　and　do　the　washing　up。　it　was　an　odd　thing　to　see　him　at　the　sink　in　his　wellington　boots　and　his　cap；　so　clumsy　with　the　cloth　and　china　where　he　was　so　adroit　with　his　terra…cotta　pots　and　tender　plants。　and　it　came　to　his　attention　that　the　number　of　cups　and　plates　was　diminishing。　soon　there　would　not　be　enough。　where　was　the　missing　crockery？　he　thought　instantly　of　the　missus　making　her　haphazard　way　upstairs　with　a　plate　for　master　charlie。　had　he　ever　seen　her　return　an　empty　plate　to　the　kitchen？　no。

he　went　upstairs。　outside　the　locked　door；　plates　and　cups　were　arranged　in　a　long　queue。　the　food；　untouched　by　charlie；　was　providing　a　fine　feast　for　the　flies　that　buzzed　over　it；　and　there　was　a　powerful；　unpleasant　smell。　how　many　days　had　the　missus　been　leaving　food　here　without　noticing　that　the　previous　day’s　was　still　untouched？　he　toted　up　the　number　of　plates　and　cups　and　frowned。　that　is　when　he　knew。

he　did　not　knock　at　the　door。　what　was　the　point？　he　had　to　go　to　his　shed　for　a　piece　of　timber　strong　enough　to　use　as　a　battering　ram。　the　noise　of　it　against　the　oak；　the　creaking　and　smashing　as　metal　hinges　tore　away　from　wood；　was　enough　to　bring　us　all；　even　the　missus；　to　the　door。

when　the　battered　door　fell　open；　half　broken　off　its　hinges；　we　could　hear　buzzing　flies；　and　a　terrible　stench　billowed　out；　knocking　emmeline　and　the　missus　back　a　few　steps。　even　john　put　his　hand　to　his　mouth　and　turned　a　shade　whiter。　“stay　back；”　he　ordered　as　he　entered　the　room。　a　few　paces　behind；　i　followed　him。

we　stepped　gingerly　through　the　debris　of　rotting　food　on　the　floor　if　the　old　nursery；　stirring　clouds　of　flies　up　into　the　air　as　we　passed。　charlie　had　been　living　like　an　animal。　dirty　plates　covered　with　mold　were　on　the　floor；　on　the　mantelpiece；　on　chairs　and　on　the　table。　the　bedroom　door　was　ajar。　with　the　end　of　the　battering　ram　he　still　had　in　his　hand；　john　nudged　the　door　cautiously；　and　a　startled　rat　came　scurrying　out　over　our　feet。　it　was　a　gruesome　scene。　more　flies；　more　deposing　food　and　worse：　the　man　had　been　ill。　a　pile　of　dried；　fly…spotted　vomit　encrusted　the　rug　on　the　floor。　on　the　table　by　the　ed　was　a　heap　of　bloody　handkerchiefs　and　the　missus’s　old　darning　needle。

the　bed　was　empty。　just　crumpled；　filthy　sheets　stained　with　blood　id　other　human　vileness。

we　did　not　speak。　we　tried　not　to　breathe；　and　when；　of　necessity；　we　inhaled　through　our　mouths；　the　sick；　repugnant　air　caught　in　our　throats　and　made　us　retch。　yet　we　had　not　had　the　worst　of　it。　there　was　one　more　room。　john　had　to　steel　himself　to　open　the　door　to　the　bathroom。　even　before　the　door　was　fully　open；　we　sensed　the　horror　of　it。　before　it　snagged　in　my　nostrils；　my　skin　seemed　to　smell　it；　and　a　cold　sweat　bloomed　all　over　my　body。　the　toilet　was　bad　enough。　the　lid　was　down　but　could　not　quite　contain　the　overflowing　mess　it　was　supposed　to　cover。　but　that　was　nothing。　for　in　the　bath—john　took　a　sharp　step　back　and　would　have　stepped　on　me　if　i　had　not；　at　the　same　moment；　taken　two　steps　back　myself。　in　the　bath　was　a　dark　swill　of　bodily　effluence；　the　stink　of　which　sent　john　and　me　racing　to　the　door；　back　through　the　rat　droppings　and　the　flies；　out　into　the　corridor；　down　the　stairs　and　out　of　doors。

i　was　sick。　on　the　green　grass；　my　pile　of　yellow　vomit　looked　fresh　and　clean　and　sweet。

‘all　right；“　said　john；　and　he　patted　my　back　with　a　hand　that　was　still　trembling。

the　missus；　having　followed　at　her　own　hurried　shuffle；　approached　us　across　the　lawn；　questions　all　over　her　face。　what　could　we　tell　her？

we　had　found　charlie’s　blood。　we　had　found　charlie’s　shit；　charlie’s　piss　and　charlie’s　vomit。　but　charlie　himself？

‘he’s　not　there；“　we　told　her。　”he’s　gone。“

i　returned　to　my　room；　thinking　about　the　story。　it　was　curious　in　more　than　one　respect。　there　was　charlie’s　disappearance；　of　course；　which　was　an　interesting　turn　of　events。　it　left　me　thinking　about　the　almanacs　and　that　curious　abbreviation：　ldd。　but　there　was　more。　did　she　know　i　had　noticed？　i　had　made　no　outward　sign。　but　i　had　noticed。　today　miss　winter　had　said　i。

in　my　room；　on　a　tray　next　to　the　ham　sandwiches；　i　found　a　large　brown　envelope。

mr。　lomax；　the　solicitor；　had　replied　to　my　letter　by　return　of　post。　attached　to　his　brief　but　kindly　note　were　copies　of　hester’s　contract；　which　i　glanced　at　and　put　aside；　a　letter　of　remendation　from　a　lady　blake　in　naples；　who　wrote　positively　of　hester’s　gifts；　and；　most　interesting　of　all；　a　letter　accepting　the　offer　of　employment；　written　by　the　miracle　worker　herself。

dear　dr。　maudsley；thank　you　for　the　offer　of　work　you　have　kindly　made　to　me。

i　shall　be　pleased　to　take　up　the　post　at　angelfield　on　th