end there。’
‘You have a strong fancy；’ said the blind man； with a smile。
‘Strengthen yours with blood； and see what it will come to。’
He groaned； and rocked himself； and looking up for the first
time； said； in a low； hollow voice：
‘Eight…and…twenty years！ Eight…and…twenty years！ He has never
changed in all that time； never grown older； nor altered in the
least degree。 He has been before me in the dark night； and the
broad sunny day； in the twilight； the moonlight； the sunlight； the
light of fire； and lamp； and candle； and in the deepest gloom。
Always the same！ In company； in solitude； on land； on shipboard；
sometimes leaving me alone for months； and sometimes always
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with me。 I have seen him； at sea； come gliding in the dead of night
along the bright reflection of the moon in the calm water； and I
have seen him； on quays and market…places； with his hand
uplifted； towering； the centre of a busy crowd； unconscious of the
terrible form that had its silent stand among them。 Fancy！ Are you
real？ Am I？ Are these iron fetters； riveted on me by the smith’s
hammer； or are they fancies I can shatter at a blow？’
The blind man listened in silence。
‘Fancy！ Do I fancy that I killed him？ Do I fancy that as I left the
chamber where he lay； I saw the face of a man peeping from a
dark door； who plainly showed me by his fearful looks that he
suspected what I had done？ Do I remember that I spoke fairly to
him—that I drew nearer—nearer yet—with the hot knife in my
sleeve？ Do I fancy how he died？ Did he stagger back into the angle
of the wall into which I had hemmed him； and； bleeding inwardly；
stand； not fail； a corpse before me？ Did I see him； for an instant； as
I see you now； erect and on his feet—but dead！’
The blind man； who knew that he had risen； motioned him to
sit down again upon his bedstead； but he took no notice of the
gesture。
‘It was then I thought； for the first time； of fastening the murder
upon him。 It was then I dressed him in my clothes； and dragged
him down the back…stairs to the piece of water。 Do I remember
listening to the bubbles that came rising up when I had rolled him
in？ Do I remember wiping the water from my face； and because
the body splashed it there； in its descent； feeling as if it must be
blood？
‘Did I go home when I had done？ And oh； my God！ how long it
took to do！ Did I stand before my wife； and tell her？ Did I see her
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fall upon the ground； and； when I stooped to raise her； did she
thrust me back with a force that cast me off as if I had been a
child； staining the hand with which she clasped my wrist？ Is that
fancy？
‘Did she go down upon her knees； and call on Heaven to
witness that she and her unborn child renounced me from that
hour； and did she； in words so solemn that they turned me cold—
me； fresh from the horrors my own hands had made—warn me to
fly while there was time； for though she would be silent； being my
wretched wife； she would not shelter me？ Did I go forth that night；
abjured of God and man； and anchored deep in hell； to wander at
my cable’s length about the earth； and surely be drawn down at
last？’
‘Why did you return？ said the blind man。
‘Why is blood red？ I could no more help it； than I could live
without breath。 I struggled against the impulse； but I was drawn
back； through every difficult and adverse circumstance； as by a
mighty engine。 Nothing could stop me。 The day and hour were
none of my choice。 Sleeping and waking； I had been among the old
haunts for years—had visited my own grave。 Why did I come
back？ Because this jail was gaping for me； and he stood beckoning
at the door。’
‘You were not known？’ said the blind man。
‘I was a man who had been twenty…two years dead。 No。 I was
not known。’
‘You should have kept your secret better。’
‘My secret？ Mine？ It was a secret； any breath of air could
whisper at its will。 The stars had it in their twinkling； the water in
its flowing； the leaves in their rustling； the seasons in their return。
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It lurked in strangers’ faces； and their voices。 Everything had lips
on which it always trembled。—My secret！’
‘It was revealed by your own act at any rate；’ said the blind
man。
‘The act was not mine。 I did it； but it was not mine。 I was forced
at times to wander round； and round； and round that spot。 If you
had chained me up when the fit was on me； I should have broken
away； and gone there。 As truly as the loadstone draws iron
towards it； so he； lying at the bottom of his grave； could draw me
near him when he would。 Was that fancy？ Did I like to go there； or
did I strive and wrestle with the power that forced me？’
The blind man shrugged his shoulders； and smiled
incredulously。 The prisoner again resumed his old attitude； and
for a long time both were mute。
‘I suppose then；’ said his visitor； at length breaking silence； ‘that
you are penitent and resigned； that you desire to make peace with
everybody （in particular； with your wife who has brought you to
this）； and that you ask no greater favour than to be carried to
Tyburn as soon as possible？ That being the case； I had better take
my leave。 I am not good enough to be company for you。’
‘Have I not told you；’ said the other fiercely； ‘that I have striven
and wrestled with the power that brought me here？ Has my whole
life； for eight…and…twenty years； been one perpetual struggle and
resistance； and do you think I want to lie down and die？ Do all
men shrink from death—I most of all！’
‘That’s better said。 That’s better spoken； Rudge—but I’ll not
call you that again—than anything you have said yet；’ returned the
blind man； speaking more familiarly； and laying his hands upon
his arm。 ‘Lookye；—I never killed a man myself； for I have never
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been placed in a position that made it worth my while。 Farther； I
am not an advocate for killing men； and I don’t think I should
recommend it or like it—for it’s very hazardous—under any
circumstances。 But as you had the misfortune to get into this
trouble before I made your acquaintance； and as you have been
my companion； and have been of use to me for a long time now； I
overlook that part of the matter； and am only anxious that you
shouldn’t die unnecessarily。 Now； I do not consider that； at
present； it is at all necessary。’
‘What else is left me？’ returned the prisoner。 ‘To eat my way
through these walls with my teeth？’
‘Something easier than that；’ returned his friend。 ‘Promise me
that you will talk no more of these fancies of yours—idle； foolish
things； quite beneath a man—and I’ll tell you what I mean。’
‘Tell me；’ said the other。
‘Your worthy lady with the tender conscience； your scrupulous；
virtuous； punctilious； but not blindly affectionate wife—’
‘What of her？’
‘Is now in London。’
‘A curse upon her； be she where she may！’
‘That’s natural enough。 If she had taken her annuity as usual；
you would not have been here； and we should have been better off。
But that’s apart from the business。 She’s in London。 Scared； as I
suppose； and have no doubt； by my representation when I waited
upon her； that you were close at hand （which I； of course； urged
only as an inducement to compliance； knowing that she was not
pining to see you）； she left that place； and travelled up to London。’
‘How do you know？’
‘From my friend the noble captain—the illustrious general—the
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bladder； Mr Tappertit。 I learnt from him the last time I saw him；
which was yesterday； that your son who is called Barnaby—not
after his father； I suppose—’
‘Death！ does that matter now！’
‘—You are impatient；’ said the blind