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Wharton, Edith, 1862-1937

"The Descent of Man and Other Stories"

I turned cold with the thought of it, and for a minute
or two I dursn't breathe or move. Then I came to my senses.
"Alice Hartley," says I to myself, "someone left that room just now
and ran down the passage ahead of you. The idea isn't pleasant, but
you may as well face it. Your mistress has rung for you, and to
answer her bell you've got to go the way that other woman has gone."
Well--I did it. I never walked faster in my life, yet I thought I
should never get to the end of the passage or reach Mrs. Brympton's
room. On the way I heard nothing and saw nothing: all was dark and
quiet as the grave. When I reached my mistress's door the silence
was so deep that I began to think I must be dreaming, and was
half-minded to turn back. Then a panic seized me, and I knocked.
There was no answer, and I knocked again, loudly. To my astonishment
the door was opened by Mr. Brympton. He started back when he saw me,
and in the light of my candle his face looked red and savage.
_ "You!"_ he said, in a queer voice. _"How many of you are there, in
God's name?"_
At that I felt the ground give under me; but I said to myself that
he had been drinking, and answered as steadily as I could: "May I go
in, sir? Mrs. Brympton has rung for me."
"You may all go in, for what I care," says he, and, pushing by me,
walked down the hall to his own bedroom. I looked after him as he
went, and to my surprise I saw that he walked as straight as a sober
man.
I found my mistress lying very weak and still, but she forced a
smile when she saw me, and signed to me to pour out some drops for
her.


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