Chapter Seventeen (第2/2页)
t o find, after t made me nervous. But tter lemans blood; and so must least. t seemed to me t it must : for as I looked more closely at it I sa. taffeta bodice , tig ays. the seal—
I looked at Dainty. t? ter, so close, so carefully, so long—a not read it? I tur in my tion. here? I said. you see?
Dainty looked, t you? s I could not. ing ly smeared and spotted ains, I to tter close to t seemed to me at last t if any en t an S, and t follo; and then, again, an s—
I gre? said Dainty, seeing my face.
I dont knoters for me.
S o her! she said.
My mother?
to open it.
I dont know.
But say it tells you— Say it tells you s a map!
I didnt t my stomac tter, at t, I said. Dainty licked ook it, slour, and slo, I tumbling of to t words, she said.
I to so nervous and afraid—so sure t tter for me, yet o some a till, to open before me, not being able to uand said, hing.
e on, I said to Dainty. I got , and found mine. e out to treet, and o read it for us.
e t ask anyone I kneranger. So nort fast, toray on a string about meg-graters and t knoelligent look.
I said,hell do.
a grater, girls?
I seo say, for taken te from me. I put my o my . Do you read? I asked last.
he said, Read?
Letters, in ladies books, I mean.
tilted his head.
-anyone
to be opened, eent t. notice. Instead, raig in my line, o stand letters. t aint a-going to make t. . .?
Some people y did the same.
Sevenpence, I said, ogeturhey good? Good enough, I said.
. ook t s see, up, tung by t not it to e out later, as ouc. . . ready to read.
All t are there, I said, as he did. Every one. Do you hear?
o be opened oer, Susan Lilly—
I put trinder, I said. Susan trinder, you mean. You are reading it wrong.
Susan Lilly, it says, up, nourn it. s t, I said, if you aint going to read here . . .?
But my voice to my , a s ight.
e oing, t is it? A , or a testament? t statement— t Lant Street, Soutember 1844, in topped. of voice. , tiff stuff, aint it?
I did not ans tains.
Per. No , all rigs see. s closer. 7, Marianne Lilly, of—? Bear my o daug about? ts better——o t srue birto be made k 1862; on o e fortune.
In exto my care er MAUD— Bless me, if you aint doing it again! nice, t you?—dear daug s of il tioned date; on is my desire t to une.
to be a true and legally binding statement of my beto be reised in Law.
Susan Lilly to kno t srove to keep her from care.
Maud Sucksby to be raised a gentleo knell me t , mind, I s more.— going to faint, are you?
I c ray. ers sliding. Noake care, do! ock, look, going to tumble a mashed—
Dainty came and caught me. I am sorry, I said. I am sorry.
All rig ters straight.
Yes.
e as a s?
I s remember—and
gripped tter, and stumbled from y, I said. Dainty—
S me do a ? s did it mean?
till looked. I s er, he called.
But I didnt er, and I let Dainty go. I clute and put my face against o so sed lock must sumblers lift against t is forced loose and flies. My mot finis oo muco say— too muo believe it. I t of ture of t Briar. I t of t Maud o rub and trim. I t of Maud, and Mrs Sucksby; and tleman. O! , too. Noo tell me, at t t so long? my mot a murderess, su s to be split . . .
// you shink back—
I t, and t; and began to gro tter before my fad groaill stood a little cood coo. Drunk, is s t, a spoon in ongue. I could not bear ty and got to my feet; s me and agger o drink. S me at table. Mrs Sucksbys dress still lay upon it: I took it up and in my ts, and s folds; t, and cast it to t tter, and looked again at t to my feet and began to walk.
Dainty, I said in a sort of pant, as I did. Dainty, s have
klemans side, kno last to— O me t plad bring was only ever Maud sed. S me safe, and gave me up, so Maud, so Maud—
But till. I arting up ting me e me, to save me kno...
I put my out y began to oo.
is it? s is it?
t tears. t thing of all!
I sa, sning in a sky of black. Maud ried to save me, and I knoo kill ime—
And I let ting up and . here is she, now?
y, almost shrieking.
Maud!I said. Oh, Maud!
Miss Lilly?
Miss Sucksby, call o t s you all in o time wood, pinning up urned— If I had known— I would have kissed her—
Kissed y.
Kissed y, you would oo! Anyone would! S hrown her away—!
So I on. Dainty tried to calm me, and could not. I last, I sank and rise. Dainty and pleaded—took up er and t in my face— ran doreet to a le of salts; but I lay, as if dead. I sick. I si a moment, like t.
So my old room and put me to sleep in my oo take my goalked like a madartan, and india-rubber boots, and—most especially—of sometaken, t I s. ? s? O so often, so pitifully, s me all my t finally s of my goe creased and blad bitten; and t ook it from and over it as if my would break.
I dont remember. I kept in a fever for nearly a er t so feeble I migill. Dainty nursed me, all t time—feediea and soups and gruels, lifting me so I mig, from my face. I still , and cursed and ted, I more, ime I of dam about my , keeping out my love: no, my I s gre seemed to me at last t I o Dainty; Id say it, over and over. But Id say it steadily—in a ; t back my strengt I mean to find care if it takes me all my life. Ill find , and tell I kno be married! I dont care. Ill find ell ;
It of. I ing, to be art. And at last I t I ed enoug o seem to tilt and turn, ill. I o take o oolter, and tucked it into my goy t I
must o my fever. t I o cry.
? s to start my searc Briar. But t, s y minutes. c , so long ago, in tarc s use to bury ake it. I kissed know . . .
And so I left time, and made to Briar, ain. time. train ran smoot Marlo me o take t ttle bag I ? And t time: Is no-one e to meet you?
I said I opped to rest on a stile, and a man and a girl by, , and t me and must I oo: for t me sit on t. t about my shoulders.
Going far? he said.
I said I o Briar, they could drop me anywhere near Briar—
to Briar! t. But, w you know?
Nobody t to be fed off a spoon. tleman! they said. he
of terrible . tank, in t t run off leman—did you kno t?—I didnt anso nurse e s up.
So Maud urned my c it doo ting of t. I said,
And t o her?
But t know. Some people said so o France . . .
Planning on visiting one of ts, my print dress. tsve all gooo.—All go one, o keep t. S like ed, now.
. But I ed bloo suffer to Marlo t must be Mr ay. I t, Ill find ell me where shes gone . . .
So t me doarted; and from t. t ting to creep and rise. t it in illiam Irap: I like an marked te, and t. I quied my step—but t quite sank. t up and dark. tes ened ruck t made a lo of moaning sound. And o tes and pushey creaked and creaked.
Mr ay! I called. Mr ay! Anyone!
My voice made a dozen black birds start out of t, Surely t it didnt: t caime; and no-one came. So t t o keep out co, Its not against th.
toget my back, arted up again. Still no-one came, though.
I gave it a mio walk.
It seemed quieter i er, and queer. I kept to trees seem to , and g to my skirt. er. oo, and parc beaten about urning to slime at its tips, and smelt peculiar. I t. Pers. I hem scurrying as I walked.
I began to go quicker. to climb. I remembered driving along it urned, and ; but it still made me start, to e so suddenly upon to see it seem to rise out of topped, on t afraid. It ly quiet and dark. ttered. t its front door—t leaves. It seemed like a meant for people but fs.
I remembered, suddenly, it being ed . . .
t made me s me—back, to dark and tangled o take back my ting rain. till c, If I only find Mr ay! o o to tables and yards. I carefully, for my steps sounded loud. But as quiet ay as everyed barking. table doors tuck, t cime I , I t range. Mr ay! I called—but I called it softly. It seemed o call out, here. Mr ay! Mr ay!
t gave me . I to tcapped. No a to t I nig around to t again. I to a er, and looked inside. I could not see. I put my o to give against its bolt... I ated for almost a mi fles screed myself up on to the sill, and jumped inside.
tood, quite still. t must if Mr ay and came like a burglar, no of my mot . I began to ly about. t. I I o try and imagine Maud, as s,
o imagile bites sake at ... I stepped to table. It ill set, icks, a knife and a fork, a plate of apples; but it and cobted. tal glass, the rim.
t t still, , it moved perfectly silently. All tly, in t y carpet, t smoteps.
So o to it and looked i room e. t t Mr Lilly aleman must oo listen , t I imagiing t voice.
I fot to t Mr ay, remembering t. I fot to t of. I to go doo tcead I slo t door. I climbed tairs. I ed to go to ed to stand, t ted to lie upoo t her . . .
I as a g ly, not minding tears as tears enougime o tanding part-ures ill , s one glass eye and poieet of my fio it, t time I came for Maud. I ed outside t of so fiercely of it, it seemed
to me at last t I could almost . I could as a he house.
I caugopped, tarted again. It in my o came, from to sed after all. Or pero t a trembling o it, and pus open. tood, and bli bare of books. A little fire burned in te. I puss lamp .
And in t, was Maud.
Sting, ing. Surned . o a froce a lied turned and tur, as if not sure o put . Again s h.
te again; and to dip , sg.
S start. Sly still. S cry out. S say anyt first. S onis on ook a step; and as I did, s to , letting t roll across to te. So take migo fall, or sep, s harder.
o kill me?
S, in a sort of a just from astonis, but also from fear. t errible. I turned away, and hid my own face
in my ill , from my falling tears. Noears came and made it ter. Oh, Maud! I said- Oh, Maud!
I o , I er everyt trangeness of it. I pressed my fingers o my eyes. I ago, of . I to find , to e upon oo much.
I dont— I said. I t— S e. Sood, still ill gripping teadily. there er, I said. I found a paper, hidden in Mrs Sucksbys gown . . .
I felt tter, stiff, in my o s ans—and sa s paper it , and said. Despite myself, I of ing bier t a single moment; and left me to t sit upon to read it to me. And t sick.
I am sorry, she said. Sue, I am sorry.
Sill did not e to me, though. I wiped my face again.
I said, I got a lift here was nobody here, save Mr ay—
Mr ay? She frowned. Mr ay is gone -
A servant, they said.
illiam I . ays s all.
Only t me, and s you groened?
S o be frightened of, rnow?
to to trie first. ly.
us, about— Did you kno tart?0
Sly, too. Not t until Rie to London. t lifted old.
Not before? I said.
Not before.
tricked you, too, then.
I so t, ono errible t nine monte, myself sink against t my c till. It struck t c brangled make out ted roof of ttle red chapel.
My moto look at my mother was a murderess.
I t my motead—
S say it. yet. But I turo look at her again, and swallowed, and said,
You to see trons words.
She nodded. She spoke of you, she said.
Of me? did she say?
t s s en times over, before you s s t to make you a onplace girl. t t aking a je. t dust falls away
I closed my eyes. last e closer.
Sue, shis house is yours.
I dont it, I said.
t, if you wis. You shall be rich.
I dont to be riced to.be ric—
But I ated. My oo full. oo close, too clear. I t —not at trial, but on t t Gentlemaered. t glitter no it bad tied it tremble. ts and smudges of ink. , too, from quite to t faste t. t undone. I saing of be. I looked away.
to her eyes.
I only you, I said.
took ao me and almost, almost reac turned and lo t o the paper and pen.
You do not knohings—
S go on. t ans closer to things?
My uncle— s me good. Didnt you? I . I tle to took up a book. S, tigo ; turned and broug to me. S up in tle. And t voice so read.
eous ned bare ivory s my bosom in wild fusion—
? I said.
S ans look up; but tur page and read from another.
I scarcely kne; everytive exertion—tongues, lips, bellies, arms, ttoms, every part in voluptuous motion.
Now my own c? I said, in a whisper.
Surned more pages, read again.
Quickly my daring secret treasure, regardless of plaints, ed into the covered way of love—
Sopped. ing . My oing ratill not quite uanding:
Your uncles books?
She nodded.
All, like this?
She nodded again.
Every one of this? Are you sure?
Quite sure.
I took t t on t looked like any book o me. So I put it do to t looked took up anot ures. You never saures like t Maud, and my seemed to shrink.
You kne all, I said. ts t t. You said t you kneime—
I did knohing, she said.
You kne all! You made me kiss you. You made me to kiss you again! ime, you had been ing here and—
My voice broke off. Sc of times I o t of o gentlemen—to Gentleman—ing tarts and custards iles and Mr ay. I put my o my . It ig me.
Oo to cry. to to my mout t ill it a drop as if it burned me. Oh!
It ood very still, the smears of ink on her fingers.
?
S answer.
to t sod! Oinking oo good for o look at you and see you ill you—!
I gazed across ted to smas to o dra any otime I should have called proud.
Dont pity me, s I am still my living.
S I e on. till damp. I asked a friend of my uncles, once, s e for me to a ressed gentle e suc, I am not a lady
I looked at uanding. I looked at t missed its beat.
You are ing books, like speaking. kno! I said. I t believe it. Of all t Id find you— And to find you house—
I am not alone, sold you: I o care for me.
to find you ing books like t?-V
Again, s proud. I? she said.
I did not kno just dont seem right, I said. A girl, like you—
Like me? there are no girls like me.
I did not ans. I looked again at tly,
Is t?
Stle, se sly.
And you— You like it?
Sill it. . . S ill ce me for it? she said.
e you! I said. y proper reasons f you, already; and only—
Only love you, I ed to say. I didnt say it, t I tell you? If sill be proud, t o say it, anyill couldnt bear it. I quickly reacopped ; t my to rub at t, te skin; but s my ill. My t moved to like a pearl, urned my palm. . tayed black upon er all, I t, was only ink.
it o make o soo. I I mig! e moved apart. S . Sill fluttered to tooped and caug up and smoot.
does it say? I said, when I had.
S is filled you . . . Look.
Sook up t darker, till beat against t so t, and sat beside me. s rose in a rus t; and began to sten, one by one.
Notes
Many books provided orical detail and inspiration. Im particularly ied to V.A.C. Gatrells tree: Execution aion in a Private Asylum (London, 1910).
top ated bibliograporum: being Notes Bio- Biblio- Io- grapical, on Curious and Unon Books (London, 1877); turia Librorum Absditorum: being Notes Bio- Biblio- Io- grapical, on Curious and Unon Books (London, 1879); and a Librorum ta: being Notes Bio- Biblio- Io- grapical, on Curious and Unon Books (London, 1885). Mr Lillys statements on book-colleg e all ots irely fictitious.
All of texts cited by Maud are real. tival of tain Dra, and tful turk. For publisails of these see Ashbee, above.
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t o find, after t made me nervous. But tter lemans blood; and so must least. t seemed to me t it must : for as I looked more closely at it I sa. taffeta bodice , tig ays. the seal—
I looked at Dainty. t? ter, so close, so carefully, so long—a not read it? I tur in my tion. here? I said. you see?
Dainty looked, t you? s I could not. ing ly smeared and spotted ains, I to tter close to t seemed to me at last t if any en t an S, and t follo; and then, again, an s—
I gre? said Dainty, seeing my face.
I dont knoters for me.
S o her! she said.
My mother?
to open it.
I dont know.
But say it tells you— Say it tells you s a map!
I didnt t my stomac tter, at t, I said. Dainty licked ook it, slour, and slo, I tumbling of to t words, she said.
I to so nervous and afraid—so sure t tter for me, yet o some a till, to open before me, not being able to uand said, hing.
e on, I said to Dainty. I got , and found mine. e out to treet, and o read it for us.
e t ask anyone I kneranger. So nort fast, toray on a string about meg-graters and t knoelligent look.
I said,hell do.
a grater, girls?
I seo say, for taken te from me. I put my o my . Do you read? I asked last.
he said, Read?
Letters, in ladies books, I mean.
tilted his head.
-anyone
to be opened, eent t. notice. Instead, raig in my line, o stand letters. t aint a-going to make t. . .?
Some people y did the same.
Sevenpence, I said, ogeturhey good? Good enough, I said.
. ook t s see, up, tung by t not it to e out later, as ouc. . . ready to read.
All t are there, I said, as he did. Every one. Do you hear?
o be opened oer, Susan Lilly—
I put trinder, I said. Susan trinder, you mean. You are reading it wrong.
Susan Lilly, it says, up, nourn it. s t, I said, if you aint going to read here . . .?
But my voice to my , a s ight.
e oing, t is it? A , or a testament? t statement— t Lant Street, Soutember 1844, in topped. of voice. , tiff stuff, aint it?
I did not ans tains.
Per. No , all rigs see. s closer. 7, Marianne Lilly, of—? Bear my o daug about? ts better——o t srue birto be made k 1862; on o e fortune.
In exto my care er MAUD— Bless me, if you aint doing it again! nice, t you?—dear daug s of il tioned date; on is my desire t to une.
to be a true and legally binding statement of my beto be reised in Law.
Susan Lilly to kno t srove to keep her from care.
Maud Sucksby to be raised a gentleo knell me t , mind, I s more.— going to faint, are you?
I c ray. ers sliding. Noake care, do! ock, look, going to tumble a mashed—
Dainty came and caught me. I am sorry, I said. I am sorry.
All rig ters straight.
Yes.
e as a s?
I s remember—and
gripped tter, and stumbled from y, I said. Dainty—
S me do a ? s did it mean?
till looked. I s er, he called.
But I didnt er, and I let Dainty go. I clute and put my face against o so sed lock must sumblers lift against t is forced loose and flies. My mot finis oo muco say— too muo believe it. I t of ture of t Briar. I t of t Maud o rub and trim. I t of Maud, and Mrs Sucksby; and tleman. O! , too. Noo tell me, at t t so long? my mot a murderess, su s to be split . . .
// you shink back—
I t, and t; and began to gro tter before my fad groaill stood a little cood coo. Drunk, is s t, a spoon in ongue. I could not bear ty and got to my feet; s me and agger o drink. S me at table. Mrs Sucksbys dress still lay upon it: I took it up and in my ts, and s folds; t, and cast it to t tter, and looked again at t to my feet and began to walk.
Dainty, I said in a sort of pant, as I did. Dainty, s have
klemans side, kno last to— O me t plad bring was only ever Maud sed. S me safe, and gave me up, so Maud, so Maud—
But till. I arting up ting me e me, to save me kno...
I put my out y began to oo.
is it? s is it?
t tears. t thing of all!
I sa, sning in a sky of black. Maud ried to save me, and I knoo kill ime—
And I let ting up and . here is she, now?
y, almost shrieking.
Maud!I said. Oh, Maud!
Miss Lilly?
Miss Sucksby, call o t s you all in o time wood, pinning up urned— If I had known— I would have kissed her—
Kissed y.
Kissed y, you would oo! Anyone would! S hrown her away—!
So I on. Dainty tried to calm me, and could not. I last, I sank and rise. Dainty and pleaded—took up er and t in my face— ran doreet to a le of salts; but I lay, as if dead. I sick. I si a moment, like t.
So my old room and put me to sleep in my oo take my goalked like a madartan, and india-rubber boots, and—most especially—of sometaken, t I s. ? s? O so often, so pitifully, s me all my t finally s of my goe creased and blad bitten; and t ook it from and over it as if my would break.
I dont remember. I kept in a fever for nearly a er t so feeble I migill. Dainty nursed me, all t time—feediea and soups and gruels, lifting me so I mig, from my face. I still , and cursed and ted, I more, ime I of dam about my , keeping out my love: no, my I s gre seemed to me at last t I o Dainty; Id say it, over and over. But Id say it steadily—in a ; t back my strengt I mean to find care if it takes me all my life. Ill find , and tell I kno be married! I dont care. Ill find ell ;
It of. I ing, to be art. And at last I t I ed enoug o seem to tilt and turn, ill. I o take o oolter, and tucked it into my goy t I
must o my fever. t I o cry.
? s to start my searc Briar. But t, s y minutes. c , so long ago, in tarc s use to bury ake it. I kissed know . . .
And so I left time, and made to Briar, ain. time. train ran smoot Marlo me o take t ttle bag I ? And t time: Is no-one e to meet you?
I said I opped to rest on a stile, and a man and a girl by, , and t me and must I oo: for t me sit on t. t about my shoulders.
Going far? he said.
I said I o Briar, they could drop me anywhere near Briar—
to Briar! t. But, w you know?
Nobody t to be fed off a spoon. tleman! they said. he
of terrible . tank, in t t run off leman—did you kno t?—I didnt anso nurse e s up.
So Maud urned my c it doo ting of t. I said,
And t o her?
But t know. Some people said so o France . . .
Planning on visiting one of ts, my print dress. tsve all gooo.—All go one, o keep t. S like ed, now.
. But I ed bloo suffer to Marlo t must be Mr ay. I t, Ill find ell me where shes gone . . .
So t me doarted; and from t. t ting to creep and rise. t it in illiam Irap: I like an marked te, and t. I quied my step—but t quite sank. t up and dark. tes ened ruck t made a lo of moaning sound. And o tes and pushey creaked and creaked.
Mr ay! I called. Mr ay! Anyone!
My voice made a dozen black birds start out of t, Surely t it didnt: t caime; and no-one came. So t t o keep out co, Its not against th.
toget my back, arted up again. Still no-one came, though.
I gave it a mio walk.
It seemed quieter i er, and queer. I kept to trees seem to , and g to my skirt. er. oo, and parc beaten about urning to slime at its tips, and smelt peculiar. I t. Pers. I hem scurrying as I walked.
I began to go quicker. to climb. I remembered driving along it urned, and ; but it still made me start, to e so suddenly upon to see it seem to rise out of topped, on t afraid. It ly quiet and dark. ttered. t its front door—t leaves. It seemed like a meant for people but fs.
I remembered, suddenly, it being ed . . .
t made me s me—back, to dark and tangled o take back my ting rain. till c, If I only find Mr ay! o o to tables and yards. I carefully, for my steps sounded loud. But as quiet ay as everyed barking. table doors tuck, t cime I , I t range. Mr ay! I called—but I called it softly. It seemed o call out, here. Mr ay! Mr ay!
t gave me . I to tcapped. No a to t I nig around to t again. I to a er, and looked inside. I could not see. I put my o to give against its bolt... I ated for almost a mi fles screed myself up on to the sill, and jumped inside.
tood, quite still. t must if Mr ay and came like a burglar, no of my mot . I began to ly about. t. I I o try and imagine Maud, as s,
o imagile bites sake at ... I stepped to table. It ill set, icks, a knife and a fork, a plate of apples; but it and cobted. tal glass, the rim.
t t still, , it moved perfectly silently. All tly, in t y carpet, t smoteps.
So o to it and looked i room e. t t Mr Lilly aleman must oo listen , t I imagiing t voice.
I fot to t Mr ay, remembering t. I fot to t of. I to go doo tcead I slo t door. I climbed tairs. I ed to go to ed to stand, t ted to lie upoo t her . . .
I as a g ly, not minding tears as tears enougime o tanding part-ures ill , s one glass eye and poieet of my fio it, t time I came for Maud. I ed outside t of so fiercely of it, it seemed
to me at last t I could almost . I could as a he house.
I caugopped, tarted again. It in my o came, from to sed after all. Or pero t a trembling o it, and pus open. tood, and bli bare of books. A little fire burned in te. I puss lamp .
And in t, was Maud.
Sting, ing. Surned . o a froce a lied turned and tur, as if not sure o put . Again s h.
te again; and to dip , sg.
S start. Sly still. S cry out. S say anyt first. S onis on ook a step; and as I did, s to , letting t roll across to te. So take migo fall, or sep, s harder.
o kill me?
S, in a sort of a just from astonis, but also from fear. t errible. I turned away, and hid my own face
in my ill , from my falling tears. Noears came and made it ter. Oh, Maud! I said- Oh, Maud!
I o , I er everyt trangeness of it. I pressed my fingers o my eyes. I ago, of . I to find , to e upon oo much.
I dont— I said. I t— S e. Sood, still ill gripping teadily. there er, I said. I found a paper, hidden in Mrs Sucksbys gown . . .
I felt tter, stiff, in my o s ans—and sa s paper it , and said. Despite myself, I of ing bier t a single moment; and left me to t sit upon to read it to me. And t sick.
I am sorry, she said. Sue, I am sorry.
Sill did not e to me, though. I wiped my face again.
I said, I got a lift here was nobody here, save Mr ay—
Mr ay? She frowned. Mr ay is gone -
A servant, they said.
illiam I . ays s all.
Only t me, and s you groened?
S o be frightened of, rnow?
to to trie first. ly.
us, about— Did you kno tart?0
Sly, too. Not t until Rie to London. t lifted old.
Not before? I said.
Not before.
tricked you, too, then.
I so t, ono errible t nine monte, myself sink against t my c till. It struck t c brangled make out ted roof of ttle red chapel.
My moto look at my mother was a murderess.
I t my motead—
S say it. yet. But I turo look at her again, and swallowed, and said,
You to see trons words.
She nodded. She spoke of you, she said.
Of me? did she say?
t s s en times over, before you s s t to make you a onplace girl. t t aking a je. t dust falls away
I closed my eyes. last e closer.
Sue, shis house is yours.
I dont it, I said.
t, if you wis. You shall be rich.
I dont to be riced to.be ric—
But I ated. My oo full. oo close, too clear. I t —not at trial, but on t t Gentlemaered. t glitter no it bad tied it tremble. ts and smudges of ink. , too, from quite to t faste t. t undone. I saing of be. I looked away.
to her eyes.
I only you, I said.
took ao me and almost, almost reac turned and lo t o the paper and pen.
You do not knohings—
S go on. t ans closer to things?
My uncle— s me good. Didnt you? I . I tle to took up a book. S, tigo ; turned and broug to me. S up in tle. And t voice so read.
eous ned bare ivory s my bosom in wild fusion—
? I said.
S ans look up; but tur page and read from another.
I scarcely kne; everytive exertion—tongues, lips, bellies, arms, ttoms, every part in voluptuous motion.
Now my own c? I said, in a whisper.
Surned more pages, read again.
Quickly my daring secret treasure, regardless of plaints, ed into the covered way of love—
Sopped. ing . My oing ratill not quite uanding:
Your uncles books?
She nodded.
All, like this?
She nodded again.
Every one of this? Are you sure?
Quite sure.
I took t t on t looked like any book o me. So I put it do to t looked took up anot ures. You never saures like t Maud, and my seemed to shrink.
You kne all, I said. ts t t. You said t you kneime—
I did knohing, she said.
You kne all! You made me kiss you. You made me to kiss you again! ime, you had been ing here and—
My voice broke off. Sc of times I o t of o gentlemen—to Gentleman—ing tarts and custards iles and Mr ay. I put my o my . It ig me.
Oo to cry. to to my mout t ill it a drop as if it burned me. Oh!
It ood very still, the smears of ink on her fingers.
?
S answer.
to t sod! Oinking oo good for o look at you and see you ill you—!
I gazed across ted to smas to o dra any otime I should have called proud.
Dont pity me, s I am still my living.
S I e on. till damp. I asked a friend of my uncles, once, s e for me to a ressed gentle e suc, I am not a lady
I looked at uanding. I looked at t missed its beat.
You are ing books, like speaking. kno! I said. I t believe it. Of all t Id find you— And to find you house—
I am not alone, sold you: I o care for me.
to find you ing books like t?-V
Again, s proud. I? she said.
I did not kno just dont seem right, I said. A girl, like you—
Like me? there are no girls like me.
I did not ans. I looked again at tly,
Is t?
Stle, se sly.
And you— You like it?
Sill it. . . S ill ce me for it? she said.
e you! I said. y proper reasons f you, already; and only—
Only love you, I ed to say. I didnt say it, t I tell you? If sill be proud, t o say it, anyill couldnt bear it. I quickly reacopped ; t my to rub at t, te skin; but s my ill. My t moved to like a pearl, urned my palm. . tayed black upon er all, I t, was only ink.
it o make o soo. I I mig! e moved apart. S . Sill fluttered to tooped and caug up and smoot.
does it say? I said, when I had.
S is filled you . . . Look.
Sook up t darker, till beat against t so t, and sat beside me. s rose in a rus t; and began to sten, one by one.
Notes
Many books provided orical detail and inspiration. Im particularly ied to V.A.C. Gatrells tree: Execution aion in a Private Asylum (London, 1910).
top ated bibliograporum: being Notes Bio- Biblio- Io- grapical, on Curious and Unon Books (London, 1877); turia Librorum Absditorum: being Notes Bio- Biblio- Io- grapical, on Curious and Unon Books (London, 1879); and a Librorum ta: being Notes Bio- Biblio- Io- grapical, on Curious and Unon Books (London, 1885). Mr Lillys statements on book-colleg e all ots irely fictitious.
All of texts cited by Maud are real. tival of tain Dra, and tful turk. For publisails of these see Ashbee, above.
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