The Two Destinies

by Wilkie Collins

now of fixing myattention on a book--I fancied I understood the motives which made menas young as I was retire to end their lives in a monastery. I drew asidethe window curtains, and looked out. The only prospect that met my viewwas the black gulf of darkness in which the lake lay hidden. I couldsee nothing; I could do nothing; I could think of nothing. The onealternative before me was that of trying to sleep. My medical knowledgetold me plainly that natural sleep was, in my nervous condition, oneof the unattainable luxuries of life for that night. The medicine-chestwhich Mr. Dunross had placed at my disposal remained in the room. Imixed for myself a strong sleeping draught, and sullenly took refugefrom my troubles in bed.

  It is a peculiarity of most of the soporific drugs that they not onlyact in a totally different manner on different constitutions, but thatthey are not even to be depended on to act always in the same manner onthe same person. I had taken care to extinguish the candles before I gotinto my bed. Under ordinary circumstances, after I had lain quietly inthe darkness for half an hour, the draught that I had taken wouldhave sent me to sleep. In the present state of my nerves the draughtstupefied me, and did no more.

  Hour after hour I lay perfectly still, with my eyes closed, in thesemi-sleeping, semi-wakeful state which is so curiously characteristicof the ordinary repose of a dog. As the night wore on, such a sense ofheaviness oppressed my eyelids that it was literally impossible for meto open them--such a masterful languor possessed all my muscles that Icould no more move on my pillow than if I had been a corpse. And yet,in this somnolent condition, my mind was able to pursue lazy trains ofpleasant thought. My sense of hearing was so acute that it caught thefaintest sounds made by the passage of the night-breeze through therushes of the lake. Inside my bed-chamber, I was even more keenlysensible of those weird night-noises in the heavy furniture of a room,of those sudden settlements of extinct coals in the grate, so familiarto bad sleepers, so startling to overwrought nerves! It is not ascientifically correct statement, but it exactly describes my condition,that night, to say that one half of me was asleep and the other halfawake.

  How many hours of the night had passed, when my irritable sense ofhearing became aware of a new sound in the room, I cannot tell. I canonly relate that I found myself on a sudden listening intently, withfast-closed eyes. The sound that disturbed me was the faintest soundimaginable, as of something soft and light traveling slowly over thesurface of the carpet, and brushing it just loud enough to be heard.

  Little by little, the sound came nearer and nearer to my bed--and thensuddenly stopped just as I fancied it was close by me.

  I still lay immovable, with closed eyes; drowsily waiting for the nextsound that might reach my ears; drowsily content with the silence, ifthe silence continued. My thoughts (if thoughts they could be called)were drifting back again into their former course, when I becamesuddenly conscious of soft breathing just above me. The next moment Ifelt a touch on my forehead--light, soft, tremulous, like the touch oflips that had kissed me. There was a momentary pause. Then a low sightrembled through the silence. Then I heard again the still, small soundof something brushing its way over the carpet; traveling this time_from_ my bed, and moving so rapidly that in a moment more it was lostin the silence of the night.

  Still stupefied by the drug that I had taken, I could lazily wonder whathad happened, and I could do no more. Had living lips really touched me?Was the sound that I had heard really the sound of a sigh? Or was it alldelusion, beginning and ending in a dream? The time passed without mydeciding, or caring to decide, those questions. Minute by minute, thecomposing influence of the draught began at last to strengthen itshold on my brain. A cloud seemed to pass softly over my last wakingimpressions. One after another, the ties broke gently that held me toconscious life. I drifted peacefully into perfect sleep.

  Shortly after sunrise, I awoke. When I regained the use of my memory,my first clear recollection was the recollection of the soft breathingwhich I had felt above me--then of the touch on my forehead, and ofthe sigh which I had heard after it. Was it possible that some one hadentered my room in the night? It was quite possible. I had not lockedthe door--I had never been in the habit of locking the door during myresidence under Mr. Dunross's roof.

  After thinking it over a little, I rose to examine my room.

  Nothing in the shape of a discovery rewarded me, until I reached thedoor. Though I had not locked it overnight, I had certainly satisfiedmyself that it was closed before I went to bed. It was now ajar. Hadit opened again, through being imperfectly shut? or had a person, afterentering and leaving my room, forgotten to close it?

  Accidentally looking downward while I was weighing these probabilities,I noticed a small black object on the carpet, lying just under the key,on the inner side of the door. I picked the thing up, and found that itwas a torn morsel of black lace.

  The instant I saw the fragment, I was reminded of the long black veil,hanging below her waist, which it was the habit of Miss Dunross to wear.Was it _her_ dress, then, that I had heard softly traveling over thecarpet; _her_ kiss that had touched my forehead; _her_ sigh that hadtrembled through the silence? Had the ill-fated and noble creature takenher last leave of me in the dead of night, trusting the preservation ofher secret to the deceitful appearances which persuaded her that I wasasleep? I looked again at the fragment of black lace. Her long veilmight easily have been caught, and torn, by the projecting key, as shepassed rapidly through the door on her way out of my room. Sadly andreverently I laid the morsel of lace among the treasured memorials whichI had brought with me from home. To the end of her life, I vowed it, sheshould be left undisturbed in the belief that her secret was safe in herown breast! Ardently as I still longed to take her hand at parting, Inow resolved to make no further effort to see her. I might not be masterof my own emotions; something in my face or in my manner might betray meto her quick and delicate perception. Knowing what I now knew, the lastsacrifice I could make to her would be to obey her wishes. I made thesacrifice.

  In an hour more Peter informed me that the ponies were at the door, andthat the Master was waiting for me in the outer hall.

  I noticed that Mr. Dunross gave me his hand, without looking at me. Hisfaded blue eyes, during the few minutes while we were together, were notonce raised from the ground.

  "God speed you on your journey, sir, and guide you safely home," hesaid. "I beg you to forgive me if I fail to accompany you on the firstfew miles of your journey. There are reasons which oblige me to remainwith my daughter in the house."

  He was scrupulously, almost painfully, courteous; but there wassomething in his manner which, for the first time in my experience,seemed designedly to keep me at a distance from him. Knowing theintimate sympathy, the perfect confidence, which existed between thefather and daughter, a doubt crossed my mind whether the secret of thepast night was entirely a secret to Mr. Dunross. His next words set thatdoubt at rest, and showed me the truth.

  In thanking him for his good wishes, I attempted also to express to him(and through him to Miss Dunross) my sincere sense of gratitude for thekindness which I had received under his roof. He stopped me, politelyand resolutely, speaking with that quaintly precise choice of languagewhich I h ad remarked as characteristic of him at our first interview.

  "It is in your power, sir," he said, "to return any obligation which youmay think you have incurred on leaving my house. If you will be pleasedto consider your residence here as an unimportant episode in your life,which ends--_absolutely_ ends--with your departure, you will more thanrepay any kindness that you may have received as my guest. In sayingthis, I speak under a sense of duty which does entire justice to you asa gentleman and a man of honor. In return, I can only trust to younot to misjudge my motives, if I abstain from explaining myself anyfurther."

  A faint color flushed his pale cheeks. He waited, with a certain proudresignation, for my reply. I respected her secret, respected it moreresolutely than ever, before her father.

  "After all that I owe to you, sir," I answered, "your
wishes are mycommands." Saying that, and saying no more, I bowed to him with markedrespect, and left the house.

  Mounting my pony at the door, I looked up at the center window, as shehad bidden me. It was open; but dark curtains, jealously closed, keptout the light from the room within. At the sound of the pony's hoofs onthe rough island road, as the animal moved, the curtains were partedfor a few inches only. Through the gap in the dark draperies a wan whitehand appeared; waved tremulously a last farewell; and vanished frommy view. The curtains closed again on her dark and solitary life. Thedreary wind sounded its long, low dirge over the rippling waters of thelake. The ponies took their places in the ferryboat which was keptfor the passage of animals to and from the island. With slow, regularstrokes the men rowed us to the mainland and took their leave. I lookedback at the distant house. I thought of her in the dark room, waitingpatiently for death. Burning tears blinded me. The guide took my bridlein his hand: