sk.misery-第26部分

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believed　that　Bertie　Fossington　was　mad。　Some　three　years　ago　he　had　eaten　his　favorite　polo　pony　after　it　had　broken　two　legs　and　needed　to　be　destroyed。　It　was　a　gesture　of　affection；　he　said。　〃Learned　it　from　the　fuzzy…wuzzies　in　Capetown；〃　he　said。　〃Griquas。　Wonderful　chaps。　Put　sticks　and　things　in　their　smoochers；　what？　Some　of　〃em　look　like　they　could　carry　all　twelve　volumes　of　the　Royal　Navigation　Charts　on　their　lower　lips；　ha…ha！　Taught　me　that　each　make　must　eat　the　thing　he　loves。　Rather　poetic　in　a　grisly　sort　of　way；　what？〃　In　spite　of　I　such　bizarre　behavior；　Mr。　Geoffrey　and　My　Lord　retained　a　great　affection　for　Bertie。　（I　wonder　if　that　means　they'll　have　to　eat　him　when　he's　dead？　Mrs。　Ramage　had　once　wondered　after　a　visit　from　Bertie　during　which　he　had　tried　to　play　croquet　with　one　of　the　housecats；　quite　shattering　its　poor　little　head）；　and　they　had　spent　nearly　ten　days　at　Oak　Hall　this　past　spring。
　Not　more　than　a　day　or　two　after　they　left；　Miss　Charlotte　Evelyn…Hyde　of　Storping…on…Firkill　had　been　found　dead　on　the　back　lawn　of　her　home；　Cove　o'Birches。　There　had　been　a　freshly　picked　bunch　of　flowers　near　one　outstretched　hand。　The　village　doctor　was　a　man　named　Billford　…　a　capable　man　by　all　accounts。　Nevertheless；　he　had　called　old　Dr。　Shinebone　in　to　consult。　Billford　had　diagnosed　the　fatal　malady　as　a　heart　attack；　although　the　girl　was　very　young　…　only　eighteen　…　and　had　seemed　in　the　pink　of　health。　Billford　was　puzzled。
　Something　seemed　not　at　all　right。　Old　Shinny　had　been　clearly　puzzled　as　well；　but　in　the　end　he　had　concurred　with　the　diagnosis。　So　did　most　of　the　village；　for　that　matter　…　the　girl's　heart　had　not　been　properly　made；　that　was　all；　such　things　were　rare　but　everyone　could　recall　such　a　sad　case　at　one　time　or　another。　It　was　probably　this　universal　concurrence　that　had　saved　Billford's　practice　…　if　not　his　head　…　following　the　ghastly　denouement。　Although　everyone　had　agreed　that　the　girl's　death　was　puzzling；　it　had　crossed　no　one's　mind　that　she　might　not　be　dead　at　all。
　Four　days　following　the　interment；　an　elderly　woman　named　Mrs。　Soames　…　Mrs。　Rainage　knew　her　slightly　…　had　observed　something　white　lying　on　the　ground　of　the　Congregational　church's　cemetery　as　she　entered　it　to　put　flowers　on　the　grave　of　her　husband；　who　had　died　the　previous　winter。　It　was　much　too　big　to　be　a　flower　petal；　and　she　thought　it　might　be　a　dead　bird　of　some　sort。　As　she　approached　she　became　more　and　more　sure　that　the　white　object　was　not　just　lying　on　the　ground；　but　protruding　from　it。　She　came　two　or　three　hesitant　steps　closer　yet；　and　observed　a　hand　reaching　from　the　earth　of　a　fresh　grave；　the　fingers　frozen　in　a　hideous　gesture　of　supplication。　Blood…streaked　bones　protruded　from　the　ends　of　all　the　digits　save　the　thumb。
　Mrs。　Soames　ran　shrieking　from　the　cemetery；　ran　all　the　way　into　Storping's　high　street　…　a　run　of　nearly　a　mile　and　a　quarter　…　and　reported　her　news　to　the　barber；　who　was　also　the　local　constable。　Then　she　had　collapsed　in　a　dead　faint。　She　took　to　her　bed　later　that　afternoon　and　did　not　arise　from　it　for　nearly　a　month。　Nor　did　anyone　in　the　village　blame　her　in　the　least。
　The　body　of　the　unfortunate　Miss　Evelyn…Hyde　had　been　exhumed；　of　course；　and　as　Geoffrey　Alliburton　drew　Mary　to　a　halt　in　front　of　the　gate　leading　into　Little　Dunthorpe's　C　of　E　churchyard；　Mrs。　Ramage　found　herself　wishing　fervently　that　she　had　not　listened　to　the　tales　of　the　exhumation。　They　had　been　dreadful。
　Dr。　Billford；　shaken　to　within　an　inch　of　sanity　himself；　diagnosed　catalepsy。　The　poor　woman　had　apparently　fallen　into　some　sort　of　deathlike　trance；　much　like　the　sort　those　Indian　fakirs　could　voluntarily　induce　in　themselves　before　allowing　themselves　to　be　buried　alive　or　to　have　needles　passed　through　their　flesh。　She　had　remained　in　this　trance　for　perhaps　forty…eight　hours；　perhaps　sixty。　Long　enough；　at　any　rate；　to　have　awakened　not　to　find　herself　on　her　back　lawn　where　she　had　been　picking　flowers；　but　buried　alive　in　her　own　coffin。
　She　had　fought　grimly　for　her　life；　that　girl；　and　Mrs。　Ramage　found　now；　following　Geoffrey　through　the　gates　and　into　a　thin　mist　that　turned　the　leaning　grave　markers　into　islands；　that　what　should　have　redeemed　with　nobility　only　made　it　seem　all　the　more　horrid。
　The　girl　had　been　engaged　to　be　married。　In　her　left　hand　…　not　the　one　frozen　above　the　soil　like　the　hand　of　a　drowned　woman　…　had　been　her　diamond　engagement　ring。　With　it　she　had　slit　the　satin　lining　of　her　coffin　and　over　God　knew　how　many　hours　she　had　used　it　to　claw　away　at　the　coffin's　wooden　lid。　In　the　end；　air　running　out；　she　had　apparently　used　the　ring　with　her　left　hand　to　cut　and　excavate　and　her　right　hand　to　dig。　It　had　not　been　quite　enough。　Her　plexion　had　been　a　deep　purple　from　which　her　blood…rimmed　eyes　stared　in　a　bulging　expression　of　terminal　horror。
　The　clock　in　the　church　tower　began　to　chime　the　hour　of　twelve　…　the　hour　when；　her　mother　had　told　her；　the　door　between　life　and　death　sways　open　a　bit　and　the　dead　may　pass　both　ways　…　and　it　was　all　Mrs。　Ramage　could　do　to　keep　herself　from　shrieking　and　fleeing　in　a　panic　which　would　not　abate　but　grow　stronger　with　each　step；　if　she　began　running；　she　knew；　she　would　simply　run　until　she　fell　down　insensible。
　Stupid；　fearful　woman！　she　berated　herself；　and　then　amended　that　to：　Stupid；　fearful；　selfish　woman！　It's　My　Lord　ye　want　to　be　thinkin〃　of　now；　and　not　yer　own　fears　My　Lord　。　。　。　and　if　there　is　even　one　chance　that　My　Lady　…　Ah；　but　no　…　it　was　madness　to　even　think　of　such　a　thing。　It　had　been　too　long；　too　long；　too　long。
　Geoffrey　had　led　her　to　Misery's　tombstone；　and　the　two　of　them　stood　looking　down　at　it；　as　if　mesmerized。　LADY　CALTHORPE；　the　stone　read。　Other　than　the　dates　of　her　birth　and　death；　the　only　inscription　was：　LOVED　BY　MANY。
　She　looked　at　Geoffrey　and　said；　like　one　awakening　from　a　deep　daze：　〃Ye've　not　brought　the　tools。〃
　〃No　…　not　yet；〃　he　responded；　and　threw　himself　full…length　on　the　ground　and　placed　his　ear　against　the　earth；　which　had　already　begun　to　show　the　first　tender　shoots　of　new　grass　between　the　rather　carelessly　replaced　sods。
　For　a　moment　the　only　expression　she　saw　there　by　the　lamp　she　carried　was　the　one　Geoffrey　had　worn　since　she　had　first　opened　her　door　to　him　…　a　look　of　agonized　dread。　Then　a　new　expression　began　to　surface。　This　new　expression　was　one　of　utter　horror　mingled　with　an　almost　demented　hope。
　He　looked　up　at　Mrs。　Ramage；　eyes　staring；　mouth　working。　〃I　believe　she　lives；〃　he　whispered　strengthlessly。　〃Oh；　Mrs。　Ramage　…　〃　Suddenly　he　turned　over　onto　his　belly　and　screamed　at　the　ground　…　under　other　circumstances　it　would　have　been　ic。　〃Misery！　MISERY！　WE'RE　HERE！　WE　KNOW！　HOLD　ON！　HOLD　ON；　MY　DARLING！〃　He　was　on　his　feet　a　moment　later；　sprinting　back　toward　the　pony…trap；　where　the　digging　tools　were；　his　slippered　feet　sending　the　placid　groumdmist　into　excited　little　roils。
　Mrs。　Ramage's　knees　unlocked　and　she　buckled　forward；　near　to　swooning　again。　Of　its　own　accord；　seemingly；　her　head　slipped　to　one　side　so　her　right　ear　was　pressed　against　the　ground　…　she　had　seen　children　in　similar　postures　by　the　railway　line；　listening　for　trains。
　And　she　heard　it　…　low；　painful　scraping　sounds　in　the　earth　…　not　the　sounds　of　a　burrowing　animal；　these；　these　were　the　sounds　of　fingers　scraping　helplessly　on　wood。
　She　drew　in　breath　in　one　great　convulsive　gulp；　re…starting　her　own　heart；　it　seemed。　She　shrieked：　〃WERE　ING；　MY　LADY！　PRAISE　GOD　AND　PLEAD　SWEET　JESUS　WE　BE　IN　TIME　…　WE'RE　ING！〃　She　began　to　pull　half　healed　turves　out　of　the　ground　with　her　trembling　fingers；　and　although　Geoffrey　returned　in　almost　no　time；　she　had　by　then　already　clawed　a　hole　some　eight　inches　deep。
　
　
　7
　
　He　was　already　nine　pages　into　Chapter　7　…　Geoffrey　and　Mrs　Ramage　had　managed　to　get　Misery　out　of　her　grave　in　the　barest　nick　of　time　only　to　realize　that　the　woman　had　no　idea　at　all　who　they　were；　or　who　she　herself　was　…　when　Annie　came　into　the　room。　This　time　Paul　heard　her。　He　stopped　typing；　sorry　to　be　out　of　the　dream。
　She　held　the　first　six　chapters　at　the　side　of　her　skirt。　It　had　taken　her　less　than　twenty　minutes　to　read　his　first　stab　at　it；　it　had　been　an　hour　since　she　had　taken　this　sheaf　of　twenty…one　pages。　He　looked　at　her　steadily；　observing　with　faint　interest　that　Annie　Wilkes　was　a　bit　pale。
　〃Well？〃　he　asked。　〃Is　it　fair？〃
　〃Yes；〃　she　said　absently；　as　if　this　was　a　foregone　conclusion　…　and　Paul　supposed　it　was。　〃It's　fair。　And　it's　good。　Exciting。　But　it's　gruesome；　too！　It's　not　like　any　of　the　other　Misery　books。　That　poor　woman　who　scraped　the　ends　of　her　fingers　off　…　〃　She　shook　her　head　and　repeated：　〃It's　not；　like　any　of　the　other　Misery　books。〃　The　man　who　wrote　these　pages　was　in　a　rather　gruesome　frame　of　mind；　my　dear；　Paul　thought。
　〃Shall　I　go　on？〃　he　asked。
　〃I'll　kill　you　if　you　don't！〃　she　responded；　smiling　a　little。　Paul　didn't　smile　back。　This　ment；　which　would　once　have　struck　him　as　in　a　league　with　such　banalities　as　You　look　so　good　I　could　just　eat　you　up　now　seemed　not　banal　at　all。
　Yet　something　in　her　attitude　as　she　stood　in　the　doorway　fascinated　him。　It　was　as　if　she　was　a　little　frightened　to　e　any　closer　…　as　if　she　thought　something　in　him　might　burn　her。　It　wasn't　the　subject　of　premature　burial　that　had　done　it；　and　he　was　wise　enough　to　know　it。　No　…　it　was　the　difference　between　his　first　try　and　this　one。　That　first　one　had　had　all　the　life　of　an　eighth…grader's　〃How　I　Spent　My　Summer　Vacation〃　theme。　This　one　was　different。　The　furnace　was　on。　Oh；　not　that　he　had　written　particularly　well　the　story　was　hot；　but　the　characters　as　stereotyped　and　predictable　as　ever　…　but　this　time　he　had　been　able　to　at　least　generate　some　power；　this　time　there　was　heat　baking　out　from　between　the　lines。
　Amused；　he　thought：　She　felt　the　heat。　I　think　she's　afraid　to　get　too　close　in　case　I　might　burn　her。
　〃Well；〃　he　said　mildly；　〃　you　won't　have　to　kill　me；　Annie。　I　want　to　go　on。　So　why　don't　I　get　at　it？〃
　〃All　right；〃　she　said。　She　brought　the　pages　to　him；　put　them　on　the　board；　and　then　stepped