The Dead Secret, Wilkie Collins [best historical biographies .TXT] 📗

there. It was getting on toward night, too; the horrible twilight was gathering in the corners and creeping along the walls. I longed to light the candles, and yet I did not dare, for fear she should see the truth in my face. And when I did light them it was worse. Oh, I don’t know how I did it! I don’t know why I did it! I could have torn my tongue out for saying the words, and still I said them. Other people can think for the best; other people can act for the best; other people have had a heavy weight laid on their minds, and have not dropped under it as I have. Help me, uncle, for the sake of old times when we were happy⁠—help me with a word of advice.”

“I will help you; I live to help you, Sarah! No, no, no⁠—you must not look so forlorn; you must not look at me with those crying eyes. Come! I will advise this minute⁠—but say in what; only say in what.”

“Have I not told you?”

“No; you have not told me a word yet.”

“I will tell you now.”

She paused, looked away distrustfully toward the door leading into the shop, listened a little, and resumed: “I am not at the end of my journey yet, Uncle Joseph⁠—I am here on my way to Porthgenna Tower⁠—on my way to the Myrtle Room⁠—on my way, step by step, to the place where the letter lies hid. I dare not destroy it; I dare not remove it; but run what risk I may, I must take it out of the Myrtle Room.”

Uncle Joseph said nothing, but he shook his head despondingly.

“I must,” she repeated; “before Mrs. Frankland gets to Porthgenna, I must take that letter out of the Myrtle Room. There are places in the old house where I may hide it again⁠—places that she would never think of⁠—places that she would never notice. Only let me get it out of the one room that she is sure to search in, and I know where to hide it from her and from everyone forever.”

Uncle Joseph reflected, and shook his head again⁠—then said: “One word, Sarah; does Mrs. Frankland know which is the Myrtle Room?”

“I did my best to destroy all trace of that name when I hid the letter; I hope and believe she does not. But she may find out⁠—remember the words I was crazed enough to speak; they will set her seeking for the Myrtle Room; they are sure to do that.”

“And if she finds it? And if she finds the letter?”

“It will cause misery to innocent people; it will bring death to me. Don’t push your chair from me, uncle! It is not shameful death I speak of. The worst injury I have done is injury to myself; the worst death I have to fear is the death that releases a worn-out spirit and cures a broken heart.”

“Enough⁠—enough so,” said the old man. “I ask for no secret, Sarah, that is not yours to give. It is all dark to me⁠—very dark, very confused. I look away from it; I look only toward you. Not with doubt, my child, but with pity, and with sorrow, too⁠—sorrow that ever you went near that house of Porthgenna⁠—sorrow that you are now going to it again.”

“I have no choice, uncle, but to go. If every step on the road to Porthgenna took me nearer and nearer to my death, I must still tread it. Knowing what I know, I can’t rest, I can’t sleep⁠—my very breath won’t come freely⁠—till I have got that letter out of the Myrtle Room. How to do it⁠—oh, Uncle Joseph, how to do it, without being suspected, without being discovered by anybody⁠—that is what I would almost give my life to know! You are a man; you are older and wiser than I am; no living creature ever asked you for help in vain⁠—help me now! my only friend in all the world, help me a little with a word of advice!”

Uncle Joseph rose from his chair, and folded his arms resolutely, and looked his niece full in the face.

“You will go?” he said. “Cost what it may, you will go? Say, for the last time, Sarah, is it yes or no?”

“Yes! For the last time, I say Yes.”

“Good. And you will go soon?”

“I must go tomorrow. I dare not waste a single day; hours even may be precious for anything I can tell.”

“You promise me, my child, that the hiding of this Secret does good, and that the finding of it will do harm?”

“If it was the last word I had to speak in this world, I would say Yes!”

“You promise me, also, that you want nothing but to take the letter out of the Myrtle Room, and put it away somewhere else?”

“Nothing but that.”

“And it is yours to take and yours to put? No person has a better right to touch it than you?”

“Now that my master is dead, no person.”

“Good. You have given me my resolution. I have done. Sit you there, Sarah; and wonder, if you like, but say nothing.” With these words, Uncle Joseph stepped lightly to the door leading into the shop, opened it, and called to the man behind the counter.

“Samuel, my friend,” he said. “Tomorrow I go a little ways into the country with my niece, who is this lady here. You keep shop and take orders, and be just as careful as you always are, till I get back. If anybody comes and asks for Mr. Buschmann, say he has gone a little ways into the country, and will be back in a few days. That is all. Shut up the shop, Samuel, my friend, for the night; and go to your supper. I wish you good appetite, nice victuals, and sound sleep.”

Before Samuel could thank his master, the door was shut again. Before Sarah could say a word, Uncle Joseph’s hand was on her lips, and Uncle Joseph’s