英语小说网

It was the last day of July. The long hot summer was coming to an end, and I was feeling ill and depressed. I was also short of money, so I had little chance of escaping from the dusty London streets, and would have to spend the autumn economically between my rooms in the city and my mother's house.

My mother and my sister, Sarah, lived in a cottage in Hampstead, in the northern suburbs, and I usually went to see them twice a week. This evening I arrived at the gate of the cottage just as it was starting to get dark. I had hardly rung the bell before the door was opened violently, and my Italian friend, Professor Pesca, rushed out to greet me.

Pesca was a language teacher who had left Italy for political reasons and had made his home in England. He was a strange, excitable little man, who was always trying to be more English than the English. I had met him from time to time when he was teaching in the same houses as I was, and then one day I met him by chance in Brighton. We agreed to go for a swim together in the sea. He was very enthusiastic and it never for a moment occurred to me that he did not know how to swim! Fortunately, when he suddenly sank to the bottom, I was able to dive down and save him. From that day on he was my grateful friend, and that evening he showed his gratitude to me in a way that changed my whole life.

"Now, my good friends," he said, when we were all in my mother's sitting-room. "I have some wonderful news for you. I have been asked by my employer to recommend a drawing teacher for a post with a rich family in the north of England. And who do you think I have recommended? The best drawing teacher in the world -- Mr Walter Hartright!"

"My dear Pesca! How good you are to Walter!" exclaimed my mother. "How kind, how generous you are!"

As for myself, although I was certainly grateful for his kindness, I still felt strangely depressed. I thanked him warmly, however, and asked to see the conditions. The note he gave me said that a qualified drawing teacher was wanted by Mr Frederick Fairlie of Limmeridge House, Cumberland, to teach his two young nieces for a period of at least four months. The teacher was to live at Limmeridge House as a gentleman and receive four pounds a week. Letters to show he was of good character would be required.

The position was certainly an attractive one, and I could not understand why I felt so little enthusiasm for it. However, since my mother and sister thought it was a great opportunity, and I had no wish to hurt Pesca's feelings, I agreed to apply for the job.

The next morning I sent my letters of recommendation to the Professor's employer, and four days later I heard that Mr Fairlie accepted my services and requested me to start for Cumberland immediately. I arranged to leave the next day, and in the evening I walked to Hampstead to say goodbye to my mother and Sarah.

When I left them at midnight, a full moon was shining in a dark blue, starless sky, and the air was soft and warm. I decided to take the long route home, and walk across Hampstead Heath before joining the road into the centre of the city. After a while I came to a crossroads and turned onto the London road. I was lost in my own thoughts, wondering about the two young ladies in Cumberland, when suddenly, my heart seemed to stop beating. A hand had touched my shoulder from behind.

I turned at once, my hand tightening on my walking stick.

There, as if it had dropped from the sky, stood the figure of a woman, dressed from head to foot in white clothes. I was too surprised to speak.

"Is that the road into London?" she said.

I looked at her carefully. It was then nearly one o'clock. All I could see in the moonlight was a young colourless face, large sad eyes, and light brown hair. Her manner was quiet and self-controlled. What sort of woman she was, and why she was out so late alone, I could not guess. But there was nothing evil about her -- indeed, a kind of sad innocence seemed to come from her.

"Did you hear me?" she said, quietly and rapidly.

"Yes," I replied, "that's the road. Please excuse me -- I was rather surprised by your sudden appearance."

"You don't suspect me of doing anything wrong, do you?"

"No, no, seeing you so suddenly gave me a shock, that's all."

"I heard you coming," she said, "and hid behind those trees to see what sort of man you were, before I risked speaking. May I trust you?" Her eyes searched my face, anxiously.

Her loneliness and helplessness were so obvious that I felt great sympathy for her. "Tell me how I can help you," I said, "and if I can, I will."

"Oh, thank you, thank you. You are very kind." Her voice trembled a little as she spoke. "I don't know London at all. Can I get a cab or a carriage at this time of night? Could you show me where to get one, and will you promise not to interfere with me? I have a friend in London who will be glad to receive me. I want nothing else -- will you promise?"

She looked nervously up and down the road, then back at me.

How could I refuse? Her fear and confusion were painful to see.

"Will you promise?" she repeated.

"Yes."

We set off together towards the centre of London. It was like a dream -- walking along that familiar road, with so strange and so mysterious a companion at my side.

"Do you know any men of the rank of Baronet in London?" she asked suddenly.

There was a note of suspicion in the strange question, and when I said I knew no Baronets, she seemed relieved. I questioned her further, and she murmured that she had been cruelly used by a Baronet she would not name. She told me she came from Hampshire and asked if I lived in London. I explained that I did, but that I was leaving for Cumberland the next day.

"Cumberland!" she repeated softly. "Ah! I wish I was going there too. I was once happy in Cumberland, in Limmeridge village. I'd like to see Limmeridge House again."

Limmeridge House! I stopped, amazed.

"What's wrong?" she asked anxiously. "Did you hear anybody calling after us?"

"No, no. It's just that I heard the name of Limmeridge House very recently. Do you know somebody there?"

"I did once," she said. "But Mrs Fairlie is dead; and her husband is dead; and their little girl may be married and gone away…"

Perhaps she would have told me more, but just at that moment we saw a cab. I stopped it, and she quickly got in.

"Please," I said, "let me see you safely to your friend's house."

"No, no," she cried. "I'm quite safe, and you must let me go. Remember your promise! But thank you -- oh! thank you."

She caught my hand in hers, kissed it, and pushed it away. The cab disappeared into the black shadows on the road -- and the woman in white had gone.

Ten minutes later I was still on the same road, thinking uneasily about the whole adventure, when I heard wheels behind me. An open carriage with two men in it passed me, then stopped when they saw a policeman walking further down the street.

"Officer!" cried one of the men. "Have you seen a woman pass this way? A woman in white clothes?"

"No, sir. Why? What has she done?"

"Done! She has escaped from my asylum."

An asylum! But the woman had not seemed mad to me. Nervous, and a little strange, perhaps, but not mad. What had I done? Had I helped a woman wrongly imprisoned to escape? Or had I failed to protect a sick person who might come to harm? These disturbing thoughts kept me awake all night after I had got back to my rooms, until at last it was time to leave London and set out for Cumberland.

My travelling instructions directed me to Carlisle and then to change trains for Limmeridge. However, because of a long delay I missed my connection and did not get to Limmeridge till past ten. A servant in rather a bad temper was waiting for me at the station with a carriage and when I arrived at Limmeridge House everyone had gone to bed. I was shown to my room and when I at last put out the candle, I thought to myself, "What shall I see in my dreams tonight? The woman in white? Or the unknown inhabitants of this Cumberland house?"