Part 71 (2/2)
”What shall I do?” cried she, with a shudder. ”Is there no means of salvation?--There is none! Tengelyi's case is too far advanced to be suppressed; and even if it were not, to whom could I confide my dreadful position? Whose advice can I ask? On whose a.s.sistance can I rely? My husband?--am I to truckle to him? Am I to implore his a.s.sistance? He never loved me! He hates me now! He will leave me in my danger! He will turn against me to prove his own innocence! No! I will do any thing but bend to him!”
A sudden thought seemed to strike her. She fixed her eyes on the desk which stood on the dressing-table. She shuddered.
”No! No!” cried she; ”it has not come to this pa.s.s yet. I cannot do it!”
She went to the window; but before she had opened it, her eyes were, as if by magic force, again attracted by the desk.
”It makes me mad!” said she. ”G.o.d help me! That thought haunts me! I cannot shake it off!”
”But why?” continued she; after a pause--”why should I shudder at the thought. To die----? After all, death robs us of that only which we have. And is there anything I have to lose? I have no children. I detest my husband. My plans are frustrated. Infamy and punishment await me--I have no choice!”
She opened a secret drawer in the desk, and produced a small bottle containing a whitish substance. Her hand trembled as she put it on the table.
”Here's a.r.s.enic enough to poison half the county. This is my last, my only alternative.--But they say it is a painful death. They have told me of people who died after excruciating torments of many hours, foaming and cursing with the intensity of the pain. What if this were to be my case? Horrid! to suffer the agony of hours! to feel the poison eating into me; to feel my every nerve struggling against destruction! to howl and to suffer, and to have no one to tend me! to have no one by to wipe the sweat of agony from my face! Or worse, to be surrounded by those whose every look tells me that they are waiting for the end, not of my sufferings, but of my life!”
With a convulsive motion she pushed the poison away.
”But no!” cried she, with a sudden resolution. ”I will not live to see their triumph! I'll take the whole of it! it will shorten my sufferings.
It will kill me in a minute--Oh, but to die! to die! and there's twenty years' life in me!--Suppose the old woman told me a lie? Suppose what she said was not true; or that the Jew did not tell Vandory what I fear he did? Why should he betray me? What good can it do him? I must know more about this matter before I proceed to extremities,” said she, as she took her cloak, and restored the poison to its place in the desk.
Night had set in. n.o.body observed the guilty woman as she crossed the court-yard and knocked at the cell in which the Jew was confined. The old nurse opened it. She looked aghast when she saw the sheriff's wife in that place and at that time.
”How does your patient go on?” asked Lady Rety.
”He's quiet now!” said the old woman. ”When the gentlemen left him, he said he was happy now that the murder was out. He's been asleep since.
Poor fellow! if he could but know that your ladys.h.i.+p's ladys.h.i.+p has condescended to ask how he is going on!”
”Leave the room!” said Lady Rety, with a trembling voice. ”I want to speak to this man before he dies.”
The old woman tarried; nor was it until the lady had repeated her command, that she left the room, muttering and discontented. When she was gone. Lady Rety approached the bed and spoke to the Jew.
He made no reply. His breath came thick and irregular. His limbs moved convulsively. The shadows of death were thickening over him.
Again and again she spoke to him. At length he raised his weary head, and stared vacantly at the Lady Rety.
”You do not know me,” said she. ”Look up, man! Tell me, do you know who I am?”
”Leave me alone,” gasped Jants.h.i.+. ”I've told you all I know. I've nothing more to say. Let me rest.”
”Look up, and see to whom you are speaking. It is I, the Lady Rety!”
”The Lady Rety?” said the Jew, while a ray of returning consciousness darted over his features.
”Who else would come to you? Who else cares for what becomes of you?”
”Begone!” screamed the dying man. ”Begone! What can you want of me? I'm not strong enough to steal or murder!”
”You are mad!” cried she. ”How _can_ you talk in this manner? Suppose some one were to hear you?”
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