Коллектив авторов: Лучшие мистические истории на английском / The Stories of Mystery

Julia was particularly anxious to be present at the county ball, for she had been already booked by Mr. Lawlor for several dances, and she was quite resolved to make an attempt to bring him to a declaration.

On the evening of the ball Miss Flemming and Julia entered the carriage. The aunt had given way, as was her wont, but under protest.

For about ten minutes neither spoke, and then Miss Flemming said, ‘Well, you know my feelings about this dance. I do not approve. I distinctly disapprove. I do not consider your going to the ball in good taste, or, as you would put it, in good form. Poor young Hattersley – ‘

‘Oh, dear aunt, do let us put young Hattersley aside. He was buried with the regular forms, I suppose?’

‘Yes, Julia.’

‘Then the rector accepted the verdict of the jury at the inquest. Why should not we? A man who is unsound in his mind is not responsible for his actions.’

‘I suppose not.’

‘Much less, then, I who live ten miles away.’

‘I do not say that you are responsible for his death, but for the condition of mind that led him to do the dreadful deed. Really, Julia, you are one of those into whose head or heart only by a surgical operation could the thought be introduced that you could be in the wrong. A hypodermic syringe would be too weak an instrument to effect such a radical change in you. Everyone else may be in the wrong, you – never. As for me, I cannot get young Hattersley out of my head.’

‘And I,’ retorted Julia with asperity, for her aunt’s words had stung her – ‘I, for my part, do not give him a thought.’

She had hardly spoken the words before a chill wind began to pass round her. She drew the Barège shawl [5] Barège shawl – шаль особой вязки из легкой шерсти. that was over her bare shoulders closer about her, and said – ‘Auntie! is the glass down on your side?’

‘No, Julia; why do you ask?’

‘There is such a draught.’

‘Draught! – I do not feel one; perhaps the window on your side hitches.’

‘Indeed, that is all right. It is blowing harder and is deadly cold. Can one of the front panes be broken?’

‘No. Rogers would have told me had that been the case. Besides, I can see that they are sound.’

The wind of which Julia complained swirled and whistled about her. It increased in force; it plucked at her shawl and slewed it about her throat; it tore at the lace on her dress. It snatched at her hair, it wrenched it away from the pins, the combs that held it in place; one long tress was lashed across the face of Miss Flemming. Then the hair, completely released, eddied up above the girl’s head, and next moment was carried as a drift before her, blinding her. Then – a sudden explosion, as though a gun had been fired into her ear; and with a scream of terror she sank back among the cushions. Miss Flemming, in great alarm, pulled the checkstring, and the carriage stopped. The footman descended from the box and came to the side. The old lady drew down the window and said: ‘Oh! Phillips, bring the lamp. Something has happened to Miss Demant.’

The man obeyed, and sent a flood of light into the carriage. Julia was lying back, white and senseless. Her hair was scattered over her face, neck, and shoulders; the flowers that had been stuck in it, the pins that had fastened it in place, the pads that had given shape to the convolutions lay strewn, some on her lap, some in the rug at the bottom of the carriage.

‘Phillips!’ ordered the old lady in great agitation, ‘tell Rogers to turn the horses and drive home at once; and do you run as fast as you can for Dr. Crate.’

A few minutes after the carriage was again in motion, Julia revived. Her aunt was chafing her hand.

‘Oh, aunt!’ she said, ‘are all the glasses broken?’

‘Broken – what glasses?’

‘Those of the carriage – with the explosion.’

‘Explosion, my dear!’

‘Yes. That gun which was discharged. It stunned me. Were you hurt?’

‘I heard no gun – no explosion.’

‘But I did. It was as though a bullet had been discharged into my brain. I wonder that I escaped. Who can have fired at us?’

‘My dear, no one fired. I heard nothing. I know what it was. I had the same experience many years ago. I slept in a damp bed, and awoke stone deaf in my right ear. I remained so for three weeks. But one night when I was at a ball and was dancing, all at once I heard a report as of a pistol in my right ear, and immediately heard quite clearly again. It was wax.’

‘But, Aunt Elizabeth, I have not been deaf.’

‘You have not noticed that you were deaf.’

‘Oh! but look at my hair; it was that wind that blew it about.’

‘You are labouring under a delusion, [6] labouring under a delusion – пребывая в заблуждении. Julia. There was no wind.’

‘But look – feel how my hair is down.’

‘That has been done by the motion of the carriage. There are many ruts in the road.’ They reached home, and Julia, feeling sick, frightened, and bewildered, retired to bed. Dr. Crate arrived, said that she was hysterical, and ordered something to soothe her nerves. Julia was not convinced. The explanation offered by Miss Flemming did not satisfy her. That she was a victim to hysteria she did not in the least believe. Neither her aunt, nor the coachman, nor Phillips had heard the discharge of a gun. As to the rushing wind, Julia was satisfied that she had experienced it. The lace was ripped, as by a hand, from her dress, and the shawl was twisted about her throat; besides, her hair had not been so slightly arranged that the jolting of the carriage would completely disarrange it. She was vastly perplexed over what she had undergone. She thought and thought, but could get no nearer to a solution of the mystery.

Next day, as she was almost herself again, she rose and went about as usual. In the afternoon the Hon. James Lawlor called and asked after Miss Flemming. The butler replied that his mistress was out making calls, but that Miss Demant was at home, and he believed was on the terrace. Mr. Lawlor at once asked to see her.

He did not find Julia in the parlour or on the terrace, but in a lower garden to which she had descended to feed the goldfish in the pond.

‘Oh! Miss Demant,’ said he, ‘I was so disappointed not to see you at the ball last night.’

‘I was very unwell; I had a fainting fit and could not go.’

‘It threw a damp on our spirits – that is to say, on mine. I had you booked for several dances.’

‘You were able to give them to others.’

‘But that was not the same to me. I did an act of charity and self-denial. I danced instead with the ugly Miss Burgons and with Miss Pounding, and that was like dragging about a sack of potatoes. I believe it would have been a jolly evening, but for that shocking affair of young Hattersley which kept some of the better sort away. I mean those who know the Hattersleys. Of course, for me that did not matter, we were not acquainted. I never even spoke with the fellow. You knew him, I believe? I heard some people say so, and that you had not come because of him. The supper, for a subscription ball, [7] a subscription ball – бал по подписке, когда участники «подписывают» определенную сумму на благотворительность. was not atrociously bad.’

‘What did they say of me?’

‘Oh! – if you will know – that you did not attend the ball because you liked him very much, and were awfully cut up.’

‘I—I! What a shame that people should talk! I never cared a rush for him. He was nice enough in his way, not a bounder, but tolerable as young men go.’