Мертвая комната. Уровень 2 / The Dead Secret

“Take the cork out of the bottle,” she said, “and give it to me. I want strength. No matter whether I die in an hour's time or a week's. Give me the bottle.”

“No, no – not the bottle!” said Sarah. “There are two doses left. Wait, wait till I get a glass.”

She turned again toward the table. At the same instant Mrs. Treverton raised the bottle to her lips, and drained it of its contents.

“She has killed herself!” cried Sarah.

She ran in terror to the door.

“Stop!” said the voice from the bed, more resolute than ever, already.

“Stop! Come back and help me.”

Sarah came back; and added one more to the many pillows which supported the dying woman's head and shoulders.

“Did you unbolt the door?” Mrs. Treverton asked.

“No.”

“I forbid you to go near it again. Get my writing-case, and the pen and ink, from the cabinet near the window.”

Sarah went to the cabinet and opened it. The writing-case, with a sheet of note-paper on it, was placed upon Mrs.

Treverton's knees. Mrs. Treverton paused, closed her eyes for a minute, and sighed heavily. Then she began to write: To my Husband.

“Oh, no! no! For God's sake, don't write it!” Sarah cried. “Don't write it to him if you can't tell it to him. Let the Secret die with you and die with me!”

“The Secret must be told,” answered Mrs. Treverton. “My husband must know it. I tried to tell him, and my courage failed me. I can not trust you to tell him. It must be written.

Take the pen, and write what I tell you.”

Sarah wept bitterly.

“You have been with me ever since my marriage,” Mrs. Treverton went on. “You have been my friend more than my servant. Do you refuse my last request? Fool! Listen to me. Write, or I shall not rest in my grave. Write, or I will come to you from the other world!”

Sarah cried. At the same instant, the overdose of the medicine began to affect Mrs. Treverton's brain. She rolled her head restlessly from side to side of the pillow.

“Write!” Mrs. Treverton cried, with an awful mimicry of her old stage voice. “Write!”

Sarah waited for the next command. Some minutes elapsed before Mrs. Treverton spoke again. She began to dictate in quiet, deliberate, determined tones. Sarah's tears fell fast; her lips murmured fragments of sentences, expressions of penitence, and exclamations of fear. She nearly filled the first two sides of the paper. Then Mrs.