The Damned eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 118 pages of information about The Damned.

“I shall wait in your room next door,” I whispered, “till you come.”  But, though going out, I waited in the corridor instead, so as to hear the faintest call for help.  In that dark corridor upstairs I waited, but not long.  It may have been fifteen minutes when Frances reappeared, locking the door softly behind her.  Leaning over the banisters, I saw her.

“I’ll go in again about six o’clock,” she whispered, “as soon as it gets light.  She is sound asleep now.  Please don’t wait.  If anything happens I’ll call—­you might leave your door ajar, perhaps.”

And she came up, looking like a ghost.

But I saw her first safely into bed, and the rest of the night I spent in an armchair close to my opened door, listening for the slightest sound.  Soon after five o’clock I heard Frances fumbling with the key, and, peering over the railing again, I waited till she reappeared and went back into her own room.  She closed her door.  Evidently she was satisfied that all was well.

Then, and then only, did I go to bed myself, but not to sleep.  I could not get the scene out of my mind, especially that odious detail of it which I hoped and believed my sister had not seen—­the still, dark figure of the housekeeper waiting on the stairs below—­waiting, of course, for Mabel.

Chapter IX

It seems I became a mere spectator after that; my sister’s lead was so assured for one thing, and, for another, the responsibility of leaving Mabel alone—­Frances laid it bodily upon my shoulders—­was a little more than I cared about.  Moreover, when we all three met later in the day, things went on so exactly as before, so absolutely without friction or distress, that to present a sudden, obvious excuse for cutting our visit short seemed ill-judged.  And on the lowest grounds it would have been desertion.  At any rate, it was beyond my powers, and Frances was quite firm that she must stay.  We therefore did stay.  Things that happen in the night always seem exaggerated and distorted when the sun shines brightly next morning; no one can reconstruct the terror of a nightmare afterwards, nor comprehend why it seemed so overwhelming at the time.

I slept till ten o’clock, and when I rang for breakfast, a note from my sister lay upon the tray, its message of counsel couched in a calm and comforting strain.  Mabel, she assured me, was herself again and remembered nothing of what had happened; there was no need of any violent measures; I was to treat her exactly as if I knew nothing.  “And, if you don’t mind, Bill, let us leave the matter unmentioned between ourselves as well.  Discussion exaggerates; such things are best not talked about.  I’m sorry I disturbed you so unnecessarily; I was stupidly excited.  Please forget all the things I said at the moment.”  She had written “nonsense” first instead of “things,” then scratched it out.  She wished to convey that hysteria had been abroad in the night, and I readily gulped the explanation down, though it could not satisfy me in the smallest degree.

Project Gutenberg
The Damned from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
Follow Us on Facebook