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Not a word more was said as we walked back to the house. Miss Halcombe hurried immediately to her sister’s room, and I withdrew to my studio. Thoughts that I had hitherto restrained crowded on me now that I was alone.
She was engaged to be married, and her future husband was Sir Percival Glyde. A baronet. Anne Catherick had mentioned a baronet!
There were hundreds of baronets in England and of course I had no reason for connecting Sir Percival Glyde with the suspicious words of the woman in white. And yet, I did connect him with them. He had now become associated in my mind with Miss Fairlie, Miss Fairlie being, in her turn, associated with Anne Catherick. The idea of some hidden danger lying in the darkness of the future was strong on me.
I had been in my room little more than half an hour, when there was a knock at the door. Miss Halcombe then entered.
“Mr. Hartright,” she said, “I’m sorry to trouble you,but someone is attempting to frighten my sister about her approaching marriage. She just received an anonymous letter—a disgusting attempt to injure Sir Percival Glyde in my sister’s eyes. Have a look and tell me what you think.”
She gave me the letter. It began abruptly:
“Last night, I dreamed about you, Miss Fairlie. I dreamed that you were getting married to a middle-sized man of about the age of forty-five. He had a pale face, and was bald over the forehead, but had dark hair on the rest of his head. He wore a mustache and sideburns . He was troubled from time to time with a dry cough, and when he put up his right hand to his mouth, he showed the red scar of an old wound across the back of it.
“I then looked down into his inmost heart. It was black as night, and on it were written, in red flaming letters,‘Without pity and without regret’. He has tainted with misery the paths of others, and he will live to taint with misery the path of this woman by his side. Then my gaze shifted and pointed over his shoulder; and there, behind him, stood an evil man laughing. I awakened then.
“Miss Fairlie, I believe in dreams. Thus, I beg you, for your own sake, inquire into the past life of that man with the scar on his hand, before you say the words that make you his miserable wife. My concern for you lies in the fact that your mother was my first, my best, and my only friend.”
There the extraordinary letter ended, without a signature of any sort.
My eyes rested on the last sentence of the letter: “Your mother was my first, my best, and my only friend.” I resisted the temptation to make any unqualifi ed assumptions .
“I think we ought to speak to the gardener about the elderly woman who gave him the letter,” I suggested, “and then we ought to continue our inquiries in the village. Is there a legal adviser to whom we may go for advice?”
“Yes, Mr. Gilmore, our family solicitor, will actually be coming here tomorrow to stay a few days, in order to talk over the marriage settlement with Sir Percival.”
The marriage settlement! Those two words stung me with a jealous despair that was poison to my higher and better instinct .I began to feel hatred toward Sir Percival Glyde. And I secretly hoped that there was some truth to that mysterious letter,which would justify a breaking-off of the engagement.
“We must act quickly,” I said. “But first I must ask if the description of the man in the letter matches that of Sir Percival Glyde.”
“ Accurately —even in stating his age to be forty-five—even to the scar on his right hand.”
“I suppose no whispers have ever been heard against his character?”
“None, Mr. Hartright.”
I opened the door for her in silence, and followed her out. I was not convinced of his spotless character.
We found the gardener at work as usual. The woman who had given him the letter was an elderly woman; she had not spoken a word to him, and she had gone away towards the village in a great hurry. That was all the gardener could tell us.
Thus we made our way to the village.
Our inquiries at Limmeridge Village were patiently pursued in all directions, and among all sorts and conditions of people. But nothing came of them. Our last hope was a visit to the elementary school.
When we arrived at the school, we found the teacher scolding a child. Class had already been let out, so it was just one student and the teacher present.
“No more talk of ghosts ! Ghosts do not exist! Do you hear me, boy?” the teacher was shouting.
“But Mr. Dempster, I did see one!” cried the boy. “It was a woman dressed all in white! She was in the cemetery just across the road!”
The teacher was just raising his pointing stick to strike the boy, when Marian interrupted.
“Excuse us, Mr. Dempster, but we just overheard the boy’s claim to have seen a woman in white. Does he claim to know who she was?”
“Oh, hello, Miss Halcombe,” said the teacher. “Yes, the little monster says that the woman was Miss Fairlie.”
“It was Miss Fairlie!” cried the little boy suddenly.
An angry frown then came over Miss Halcombe’s face. Mr.Dempster, seeing her so affected, quickly cut in.
“My apologies for the boy’s bad behavior , Miss Halcombe. He shall be duly punished.”
Miss Halcombe resisted any further questioning, and simply bowed before leaving the schoolroom.
As soon as we were away from the school, Miss Halcombe asked me if I had formed any opinion on what I had heard.
“A very strong opinion,” I answered, “it seems to me that the fancied ghost in the cemetery and the writer of the anonymous letter are the same person: Anne Catherick.”
She stopped, turned pale, and looked me eagerly in the face. She then put her hand through my arm and leaned on it heavily.
We were close to the cemetery just then. Beyond the entrance to the cemetery rose the white marble cross that distinguished Mrs. Fairlie’s grave from the humbler monuments scattered about it.
“I needn’t go any further,” said Miss Halcombe, pointing to the grave. “You’ll let me know if you find anything to confi rm the idea you’ve just mentioned to me. I’m going back to the house now to sit with Laura. I’ll see you back there later.”
She left me, and I descended at once to the grave. I looked attentively at the cross, and at the square block of marble below it on which the inscription was carved. It had been recently cleaned, but only partly so. It looked as though someone had been interrupted. It entered my mind that this same person might very well come back to finish what had been started.
I decided that the best thing to do would be to watch Mrs.Fairlie’s grave that evening.
I went back to the house and informed Miss Halcombe of what I intended to do. She looked surprised and uneasy, but made no objection.
Later, when the sunset was at hand, I got my hat and coat in the hall, and slipped out of the house without meeting anyone.
When I entered the cemetery, not a living creature was in sight. The place looked lonelier than ever as I chose my position, and waited and watched with my eyes on the white cross that rose over Mrs. Fairlie’s grave.
withdraw /wɪðˈdrɔ:/ vi. 缩回，退出
suspicious /səˈspɪʃəs/ adj. 可疑的，怀疑的
associated /əˈsəʊʃɪeɪtɪd/ adj. 相关的；有关联的
anonymous /əˈnɒnɪməs/ adj. 匿名的
bald /bɔ:ld/ adj. 光秃的
sideburns /ˈsaɪdbɜ:nz/ n. 连鬓胡子，鬓角
scar /skɑ:/ n. 伤痕，疤痕
taint /teɪnt/ vt. 玷污；感染
gaze /ɡeɪz/ n. 凝视；视线
shift /ʃɪft/ vi. 替换；转移
inquire /ɪnˈkwaɪə/ vi. 询问，问明，查究
unqualified /ˌʌnˈkwɒlɪfaɪd/ adj. 不合格的；绝对的
assumption /əˈsʌmpʃən/ n. 假定，设想
sting /stɪŋ/ vt. 刺痛；刺激
jealous /ˈdʒeləs/ adj. 嫉妒的
despair /dɪˈspeə/ n. 绝望，失望；令人失望的人（或事物）
instinct /ˈɪnstɪŋkt/ n. 本能
accurately /ˈækjurətlɪ/ adv. 正确地，精确地
convinced /kənˈvɪnst/ adj. 确信的，深信的
pursue /pəˈsju:/ vt. 执行；贯彻；追踪；继续
ghost /ɡəʊst/ n. 鬼，幽灵
cemetery /ˈsemɪtərɪ/ n. 墓地，公墓
claim /kleɪm/ n. 声称；主张
frown /fraʊn/ n. 皱眉
duly /ˈdju:lɪ/ adv. 如期地；适当地
distinguish /dɪˈstɪŋɡwɪʃ/ vt. 区别，辨别
humble /ˈhʌmbl/ adj. 粗陋的；简陋的；不起眼的
scatter /ˈskætə/ vt. 使分散，散开
confi rm /kənˈfɜ:m/ vt. 确定，确认
inscription /ɪnˈskrɪpʃən/ n. 题字，碑铭