The Woman in White / Женщина в белом

“Knight, or Baronet?” I asked, with an agitation that I could hide no longer.

She paused for a moment, and then answered, rather coldly —

“Baronet, of course.”

Baronet! Suddenly I was reminded of the woman in white. She had asked me if I knew any baronets and had told me of one who was cruel and wicked. Not a word more was said, on either side, as we walked back to the house. Miss Halcombe hastened immediately to her sister’s room, and I went to my studio.

She was engaged to be married, and her future husband was Sir Percival Glyde.

A man of the rank of Baronet, and the owner of property in Hampshire.

There were hundreds of baronets in England, and dozens of landowners in Hampshire. I had not the shadow of a reason for connecting Sir Percival Glyde with the words that had been spoken to me by the woman in white. And yet, I did connect him with them.

I had been engaged with the drawings little more than half an hour, when there was a knock at the door. It opened, on my answering; and, to my surprise, Miss Halcombe entered the room.

Her manner was angry and agitated. She caught up a chair for herself before I could give her one, and sat down in it, close at my side. Marian was holding a letter in her hand and looking extremely angry and upset.

“Mr. Hartright,” she said, “You saw me send the gardener on to the house, with a letter addressed, in a strange handwriting, to Miss Fairlie?”

“Certainly.”

“The letter is an anonymous letter – a vile attempt to injure Sir Percival Glyde in my sister’s estimation.

[34 - in my sister’s estimation – в глазах моей сестры] You are the only person in the house who can advise me. Mr. Fairlie, in his state of health and with his horror of difficulties and mysteries of all kinds, is not the right man. The clergyman is a good, weak man, who knows nothing out of the routine of his duties; and our neighbours are just the sort of comfortable acquaintances. I’d like you to read it. Tell me what you think, Mr. Hartright.”

She gave me the letter. It began abruptly, without any preliminary form of address, as follows —

“Do you believe in dreams? I hope, for your own sake, that you do. See what Scripture[35 - Scripture – Священное Писание]says about dreams, and take the warning I send you before it is too late.

Last night I dreamed about you, Miss Fairlie. You were standing in a church, waiting to be married.