As I know that no one--no, not
even Kitty, for whom it is written as some sort of justification of
my conduct--will believe me, I will go on.
even Kitty, for whom it is written as some sort of justification of
my conduct--will believe me, I will go on.
Kipling - Poems
I even repeated the
multiplication-table rapidly to myself, to make quite sure that I was
not taking leave of my senses. It gave me much comfort; and must have
prevented my hearing Mrs. Wessington for a time.
Once more I wearily climbed the Convent slope and entered the level
road. Here Kitty and the man started off at a canter, and I was left
alone with Mrs. Wessington. "Agnes," said I, "will you put back your
hood and tell me what it all means? " The hood dropped noiselessly, and
I was face to face with my dead and buried mistress. She was wearing
the dress in which I had last seen her alive; carried the same tiny
handkerchief in her right hand; and the same cardcase in her left. (A
woman eight months dead with a cardcase! ) I had to pin myself down to
the multiplication-table, and to set both hands on the stone parapet of
the road, to assure myself that that at least was real.
"Agnes," I repeated, "for pity's sake tell me what it all means. " Mrs.
Wessington leaned forward, with that odd, quick turn of the head I used
to know so well, and spoke.
If my story had not already so madly overleaped the hounds of all human
belief I should apologize to you now.
As I know that no one--no, not
even Kitty, for whom it is written as some sort of justification of
my conduct--will believe me, I will go on. Mrs. Wessington spoke and
I walked with her from the Sanjowlie road to the turning below the
Commander-in-Chief's house as I might walk by the side of any living
woman's 'rickshaw, deep in conversation. The second and most tormenting
of my moods of sickness had suddenly laid hold upon me, and like the
Prince in Tennyson's poem, "I seemed to move amid a world of ghosts. "
There had been a garden-party at the Commander-in-Chief's, and we two
joined the crowd of homeward-bound folk. As I saw them then it seemed
that they were the shadows--impalpable, fantastic shadows--that divided
for Mrs. Wessington's 'rickshaw to pass through. What we said during
the course of that weird interview I cannot--indeed, I dare not--tell.
Heatherlegh's comment would have been a short laugh and a remark that I
had been "mashing a brain-eye-and-stomach chimera. " It was a ghastly and
yet in some indefinable way a marvelously dear experience. Could it be
possible, I wondered, that I was in this life to woo a second time the
woman I had killed by my own neglect and cruelty?
I met Kitty on the homeward road--a shadow among shadows.
If I were to describe all the incidents of the next fortnight in their
order, my story would never come to an end; and your patience would Be
exhausted. Morning after morning and evening after evening the ghostly
'rickshaw and I used to wander through Simla together. Wherever I went
there the four black and white liveries followed me and bore me company
to and from my hotel. At the Theatre I found them amid the crowd of
yelling jhampanies; outside the Club veranda, after a long evening of
whist; at the Birthday Ball, waiting patiently for my reappearance; and
in broad daylight when I went calling.
multiplication-table rapidly to myself, to make quite sure that I was
not taking leave of my senses. It gave me much comfort; and must have
prevented my hearing Mrs. Wessington for a time.
Once more I wearily climbed the Convent slope and entered the level
road. Here Kitty and the man started off at a canter, and I was left
alone with Mrs. Wessington. "Agnes," said I, "will you put back your
hood and tell me what it all means? " The hood dropped noiselessly, and
I was face to face with my dead and buried mistress. She was wearing
the dress in which I had last seen her alive; carried the same tiny
handkerchief in her right hand; and the same cardcase in her left. (A
woman eight months dead with a cardcase! ) I had to pin myself down to
the multiplication-table, and to set both hands on the stone parapet of
the road, to assure myself that that at least was real.
"Agnes," I repeated, "for pity's sake tell me what it all means. " Mrs.
Wessington leaned forward, with that odd, quick turn of the head I used
to know so well, and spoke.
If my story had not already so madly overleaped the hounds of all human
belief I should apologize to you now.
As I know that no one--no, not
even Kitty, for whom it is written as some sort of justification of
my conduct--will believe me, I will go on. Mrs. Wessington spoke and
I walked with her from the Sanjowlie road to the turning below the
Commander-in-Chief's house as I might walk by the side of any living
woman's 'rickshaw, deep in conversation. The second and most tormenting
of my moods of sickness had suddenly laid hold upon me, and like the
Prince in Tennyson's poem, "I seemed to move amid a world of ghosts. "
There had been a garden-party at the Commander-in-Chief's, and we two
joined the crowd of homeward-bound folk. As I saw them then it seemed
that they were the shadows--impalpable, fantastic shadows--that divided
for Mrs. Wessington's 'rickshaw to pass through. What we said during
the course of that weird interview I cannot--indeed, I dare not--tell.
Heatherlegh's comment would have been a short laugh and a remark that I
had been "mashing a brain-eye-and-stomach chimera. " It was a ghastly and
yet in some indefinable way a marvelously dear experience. Could it be
possible, I wondered, that I was in this life to woo a second time the
woman I had killed by my own neglect and cruelty?
I met Kitty on the homeward road--a shadow among shadows.
If I were to describe all the incidents of the next fortnight in their
order, my story would never come to an end; and your patience would Be
exhausted. Morning after morning and evening after evening the ghostly
'rickshaw and I used to wander through Simla together. Wherever I went
there the four black and white liveries followed me and bore me company
to and from my hotel. At the Theatre I found them amid the crowd of
yelling jhampanies; outside the Club veranda, after a long evening of
whist; at the Birthday Ball, waiting patiently for my reappearance; and
in broad daylight when I went calling.
