The Thirteenth Tale- 第56部分

‘exactly。　your　appetite　will　e　back。　but　you　must　meet　it　halfway。　you　must　want　it　to　e。“

it　was　my　turn　to　frown。

‘treatment　is　not　plicated：　eat；　rest　and　take　this…“—he　made　quick　notes　on　a　pad；　tore　out　a　page　and　placed　it　on　my　bedside　table—”and　the　weakness　and　fatigue　will　be　gone　in　a　few　days。“　reaching　for　his　case；　he　stowed　his　pen　and　paper。　then；　rising　to　leave；　he　hesitated。　”i’d　like　to　ask　you　about　these　dreams　of　yours；　but　i　suspect　you　wouldn’t　like　to　tell　me…“

stonily　i　regarded　him。　“i　wouldn’t。”

his　face　fell。　“thought　not。”

from　the　door　he　saluted　me　and　was　gone。

i　reached　for　the　prescription。　in　a　vigorous　scrawl；　he　had　inked：　sir　arthur　conan　doyle；　the　case　book　of　sherlock　holmes。　take　ten　pages；　twice　a　day；　till　end　of　course。

。。！



DECEMBER　DAYS

×××小×说×网
obeying　dr。　clifton’s　instructions；　i　spent　two　days　in　bed；　eating　and　sleeping　and　reading　sherlock　holmes。　i　confess　i　overdosed　on　my　prescribed　treatment；　gulping　down　one　story　after　another。　before　the　end　of　the　second　day　judith　had　been　down　to　the　library　and　fetched　another　volume　of　conan　doyle　for　me。　she　had　grown　suddenly　kind　toward　me　since　my　collapse。　it　was　not　the　fact　that　she　was　sorry　for　me　that　altered　her—though　she　was　sorry—　but　the　fact　that　now　emmeline’s　presence　was　no　longer　a　secret　in　the　house；　she　was　at　liberty　to　let　her　natural　sympathies　govern　her　exchanges　with　me；　instead　of　maintaining　a　constantly　guarded　facade。

‘and　has　she　never　said　anything　about　the　thirteenth　tale？“　she　asked　me　wistfully　one　day。

‘not　a　word。　and　to　you？“

she　shook　her　head。　“never。　it’s　strange；　isn’t　it；　after　all　she’s　written；　that　the　most　famous　story　of　all　is　one　that　might　not　even　exist；　just　think；　she　could　probably　publish　a　book　with　all　the　stories　missing　and　it　would　still　sell　like　hotcakes。”　and　then；　with　a　shake　of　the　lead　to　clear　her　thoughts；　and　a　new　tone；　“so　what　do　you　make　of　dr。　clifton；　then？”

when　dr。　clifton　dropped　by　to　see　how　i　was　doing；　his　eye　alighted　on　the　volumes　by　my　bedside；　he　said　nothing　but　his　nostrils　twitched。

on　the　third　day；　feeling　as　frail　as　a　newborn；　i　got　up。　as　i　pulled　the　curtains　apart；　my　room　was　flooded　with　a　fresh；　clean　light。　outside；　a　brilliant；　cloudless　blue　stretched　from　horizon　to　horizon；　and　beneath　it　the　garden　sparkled　with　frost。　it　was　as　if　during　those　long　overcast　days　the　light　had　been　accumulating　behind　the　cloud；　and　now　that　the　cloud　was　gone　there　was　nothing　to　stop　it　flooding　down；　drenching　us　in　a　fortnight’s　worth　of　illumination　at　once。　blinking　in　the　brilliance；　i　felt　something　like　life　begin　to　move　sluggishly　in　my　veins。

before　breakfast　i　went　outdoors。　slowly　and　cautiously　i　stepped　around　the　lawn　with　shadow　at　my　heels。　it　was　crisp　underfoot；　and　everywhere　the　sun　sparkled　on　icy　foliage。　the　frost…rimed　grass　held　the　imprint　of　my　soles；　but　at　my　side　shadow　stepped　like　a　dainty　ghost；　leaving　no　prints。　at　first　the　cold；　dry　air　was　like　a　knife　in　my　throat；　but　little　by　little　it　rejuvenated　me；　and　i　rejoiced　in　the　exhilaration。　nevertheless；　a　few　minutes　were　enough；　cheeks　tingling；　pink…fingered　and　with　aching　toes；　i　was　glad　to　e　back　in　and　shadow　was　glad　to　follow。　first　breakfast；　then　the　library　sofa；　the　blazing　fire；　and　something　to　read。

i　could　judge　how　much　better　i　was　by　the　fact　that　my　thoughts　turned　not　to　the　treasures　of　miss　winter’s　library；　but　to　her　own　story。　upstairs　i　retrieved　my　pile　of　paper；　neglected　since　the　day　of　my　collapse；　and　brought　it　back　to　the　warmth　of　the　hearth　where；　with　shadow　by　my　side；　i　spent　the　best　part　of　the　daylight　hours　reading。　i　read　and　i　read　and　i　read；　discovering　the　story　all　over　again；　reminding　myself　of　its　puzzles；　mysteries　and　secrets。　but　there　were　no　revelations。　at　the　end　of　it　all　i　was　as　baffled　as　i　had　been　before　i　started。　had　someone　tampered　with　john…the…dig’s　ladder？　but　who？　and　what　was　it　that　hester　had　seen　when　she　thought　she　saw　a　ghost？　and；　more　inexplicable　than　all　the　rest；　how　had　adeline；　that　violent　vagabond　of　a　child；　unable　to　municate　with　anyone　but　her　slow…witted　sister　and　capable　of　heartbreaking　acts　of　horticultural　destruction；　developed　into　miss　winter；　the　self…disciplined　author　of　dozens　of　best…selling　novels　and；　furthermore；　maker　of　an　exquisite　garden？

i　pushed　my　pile　of　papers　to　one　side；　stroked　shadow　and　stared　into　the　fire；　longing　for　the　fort　of　a　story　where　everything　had　been　planned　well　in　advance；　where　the　confusion　of　the　middle　was　invented　only　for　my　enjoyment；　and　where　i　could　measure　how　far　away　the　solution　was　by　feeling　the　thickness　of　pages　still　to　e。　i　had　no　idea　how　many　pages　it　would　take　to　plete　the　story　of　emmeline　and　adeline；　nor　even　whether　there　would　be　time　to　plete　it。

despite　my　absorption　in　my　notes；　i　couldn’t　help　wondering　why　i　hadn’t　seen　miss　winter。　each　time　i　asked　after　her　judith　gave　me　the　same　reply：　she　is　with　miss　emmeline。　until　evening；　when　she　came　with　a　message　from　miss　winter　herself：　was　i　feeling　well　enough　to　read　to　her　for　a　while　before　supper？

when　i　went　to　her　i　found　a　book—lady　audley’s　secret—on　the　table　by　miss　winter’s　side。　i　opened　it　at　the　bookmark　and　read。　but　i　had　read　only　a　chapter　when　i　stopped；　sensing　that　she　wanted　to　talk　tome。

‘what　did　happen　that　night？“　miss　winter　asked。　”the　night　you　fell　ill？“

i　was　nervously　glad　to　have　an　opportunity　for　explanation。　“i　already　knew　emmeline　was　in　the　house。　i　had　heard　her　at　night。　i　had　seen　her　in　the　garden。　i　found　her　rooms。　then　on　that　particular　night　i　brought　someone　to　see　her。　emmeline　was　startled。　the　last　thing　i　intended　was　to　frighten　her。　but　she　was　taken　by　surprise　when　she　saw　us；　and—”　my　voice　caught　in　my　throat。

‘this　is　not　your　fault；　you　know。　don’t　alarm　yourself。　the　wailing　and　the　nervous　collapse—it　is　something　i　and　judith　and　the　doctor　have　seen　many　times　before。　if　anyone　is　to　blame；　it　is　me；　for　not　letting　you　know　sooner　that　she　was　here。　i　have　a　tendency　to　be　over…protective。　i　was　foolish　not　to　tell　you。“　she　paused。　”do　you　intend　to　tell　me　whom　it　was　you　brought　with　you？“

‘emmeline　had　a　baby；“　i　said。　”that’s　the　person　who　came　with　me。　the　man　in　the　brown　suit。“　and　after　i’d　told　what　i　knew；　the　questions　i　didn’t　know　the　answer　to　came　rushing　to　my　lips；　as　though　my　own　frankness　might　encourage　her　to　be　candid　in　return。　”what　is　it　emmeline　was　looking　for　in　the　garden？　she　was　trying　to　dig　something　up　when　i　saw　her　there。　she　often　does　it：　maurice　says　it’s　the　work　of　foxes；　but　i　know　that　is　not　the　truth。“

miss　winter　was　silent　and　very　still。

“the　dead　go　underground；”　i　quoted。　“that’s　what　she　told　me。　who　does　she　think　is　buried？　is　it　her　child？　hester？　who　is　she　looking　for　underground？”

miss　winter　uttered　a　murmur；　and　though　it　was　faint；　it　instantly　awakened　the　lost　memory　of　the　hoarse　pronouncement　launched　at　me　by　emmeline　in　the　garden。　the　very　words！　“is　that　it？”　added　miss　winter。　“is　that　what　she　said？”

i　nodded。

‘in　twin　language？“

i　nodded　again。

miss　winter　looked　at　me　with　interest。　“you　are　doing　very　well；　margaret。　better　than　i　thought。　the　trouble　is；　the　timing　of　this　story　is　getting　rather　out　of　hand。　we　are　getting　ahead　of　ourselves。”　she　paused；　staring　into　her　palm；　then　looked　straight　at　me。　“i　said　i　meant　to　tell　you　the　truth；　margaret。　and　i　do。　but　before　i　can　tell　you；　something　must　happen　first。　it　is　going　to　happen。　but　it　has　not　happened　yet。”

‘what—？“

but　before　i　could　finish　my　question；　she　shook　her　head。　“let　us　return　to　lady　audley　and　her　secret；　shall　we？”

i　read　for　another　half　hour　or　so；　but　my　mind　was　not　on　the　story；　and　i　had　the　impression　miss　winter’s　attention　was　wandering；　too。　when　judith　tapped　at　the　door　at　suppertime；　i　closed　the　book　and　put　it　to　one　side；　and　as　if　there　had　been　no　interruption；　as　if　it　were　a　continuation　of　the　discussion　we　had　been　having　before；　miss　winter　said；　“if　you　are　not　too　tired；　why　don’t　you　e　and　see　emmeline　this　evening？”

　．．



SISTERS

＜小＞说？网
when　it　was　time；　i　went　to　emmeline’s　quarters。　it　was　the　first　time　i　had　been　there　as　an　invited　guest；　and　the　first　thing　i　noticed；　before　i　even　entered　the　bedroom；　was　the　thickness　of　the　silence。　i　paused　in　the　doorway—they　had　not　noticed　me　yet—and　realized　it　was　their　whispering。　on　the　edge　of　inaudibility；　the　rub　of　breath　over　vocal　cords　made　ripples　in　the　air。　soft　plosives　that　were　gone　before　you　could　hear　them；　muffled　sibilants　that　you　might　mistake　for　the　sound　of　your　own　blood　in　your　ears。　each　time　i　thought　it　had　stopped　a　hushed　sussuration　brushed　against　my　ear　like　a　moth　alighting　on　my　hair；　then　fluttered　away　again。

i　cleared　my　throat。

‘margaret。“　miss　winter；　her　wheelchair　positioned　next　to　her　sister；　gestured　to　a　chair　on　the　other　side　of　the　bed。　”how　good　of　you