cw.imarriedadeadman-第19部分

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　The　strain　was　beginning　to　tell　on　her。　Her　resistance　was　wearing　away。　Her　nerves　were　slowly　being　drawn　taut；　a　little　more　so　each　day。　She　was　nearing　a　danger…point；　she　knew。　She　couldn't　stand　very　much　more　of　it。　It　wasn't　when　they　came；　it　was　in…between；　waiting　for　the　next　one　to　e。　The　longer　it　took　to　e；　the　greater　her　tension；　instead　of　the　less。　It　was　like　that　well…known　simile　of　the　second　dropped　shoe；　prolonged　ad　infinitum。
　She　couldn't　stand　much　more　of　it。　〃If　there's　another　one；〃　she　told　herself；　〃something　will　snap。　Don't　let　there　be　another　one。　Don't。〃
　She　looked　at　herself　in　the　glass。　Not　through　vanity；　conceit；　to　see　whether　damage　had　been　done　her　looks。　To　confirm；　objectively；　the　toll　that　was　being　taken。　Her　face　was　pale　and　worn。　It　was　growing　thinner　again；　losing　its　roundness；　growing　back　toward　that　gauntness　of　cheek　it　had　had　in　New　York。　Her　eyes　were　a　little　too　shadowed　underneath；　and　just　a　little　too　bright。　She　looked　tired　and　frightened。　Not　acutely　so；　but　chronically。　And　that　was　what　was　being　done　to　her　by　this。
　She　dressed　herself；　and　then　Hughie；　and　carried　him　down　with　her。　It　was　so　pleasant　in　the　dining…room；　in　the　early　morning　like　this。　The　new…minted　sun　pouring　in；　the　color　of　champagne；　the　crisp　chintz　curtains；　the　cheery　colored　ware　on　the　table；　the　fragrant　aroma　of　the　coffee…pot；　the　savory　odor　of　fresh…made　toast　seeping　through　the　napkin　thrown　over　it　to　keep　it　warm。　Mother　Hazzard's　flowers　in　the　center　of　the　table；　always　less　than　an　hour　old；　picked　from　her　garden　at　the　back。　Mother　Hazzard　herself；　spruce　and　gay　in　her　printed　morning…dress；　beaming　at　her。　Home。　Peace。
　〃Leave　me　in　peace；〃　she　pleaded　inwardly。　〃Let　me　be。　Let　me　have　all　this。　Let　me　enjoy　it；　as　it's　meant　to　be　enjoyed；　as　it's　waiting　around　to　be　enjoyed。　Don't　take　it　from　me；　let　me　keep　it。〃
　She　went　around　the　table　to　her　and　kissed　her；　and　held　Hughie　out　to　her　to　be　kissed。　Then　she　settled　him　in　his　highchair；　between　the　two　of　them；　and　sat　down　herself。
　Then　she　saw　them；　waiting　for　her。
　The　one　on　top　was　a　department…store　sales　brochure；　sealed　in　an　envelope。　She　could　identify　it　by　the　letterhead　in　the　upper　corner。　But　there　was　something　under　it；　another　one。　Its　corners　stuck　out　a　little　past　the　top　one。
　She　was　afraid　to　bring　it　into　fuller　view；　she　postponed　it。
　She　spooned　Hughie's　cereal　to　his　mouth；　took　alternating　sips　of　her　own　fruit　juice。　It　was　poisoning　the　meal；　it　was　tightening　up　her　nerves。
　It　mightn't　be　one　of　those；　it　might　be　something　else。　Her　hand　moved　with　a　jerk；　and　the　department…store　folder　was　out　of　the　way。
　
　〃MRS。　PATRICE　HAZZARD。〃
　
　It　was　addressed　in　pen　and　ink；　a　personal　letter。　She　never　got　letters　like　that　from　anyone；　who　wrote　to　her；　whom　did　she　know？　It　must　be；　it　was；　one　of　those　again。　She　felt　a　sick；　cold　feeling　in　her　stomach。　She　took　in　everything　about　it；　with　a　sort　of　hypnotic　fascination。　The　three…cent　purple　stamp；　with　wavy　cancellationlines　running　through　it。　Then　the　circular　postmark　itself；　off　to　the　side。　It　had　been　posted　late；　after　twelve　last　night。　Where？　She　wondered。　By　whom？　She　could　see　in　her　mind's　eye　an　indistinct；　furtive　figure　slinking　up　to　a　street　mall…box　in　the　dark；　a　hand　hastily　thrusting　something　into　the　chute；　the　clang　as　the　slot　fell　closed　again。
　She　wanted　to　get　it　out　of　here；　take　it　upstairs　with　her；　close　the　door。　But　if　she　carried　it　away　with　her　unopened；　wouldn't　that　look　secretive；　wouldn't　that　call　undue　attention　to　it？　It　was　safe　enough　to　open　it　here　in　the　very　room；　they　never　pried　in　this　house；　they　never　asked　questions。　She　knew　she　could　even　have　left　it　lying　around　open　after　having　read　it　herself；　and　it　would　have　been　safe；　nobody　would　have　put　a　hand　to　it。
　She　ran　her　knife　through　the　flap；　slit　it。
　Mother　Hazzard　had　taken　over　Hughie's　feeding；　she　had　eyes　for　no　one　but　him。　Every　mouthful　brought　forth　a　paean　of　praise。
　She'd　opened　the　once…folded　inner　sheet　now。　The　flowers　were　in　the　way；　they　screened　the　shaking　of　her　hand。　So　blank　it　was；　so　much　waste　space；　so　little　writing。　Just　a　line　across　the　middle　of　the　paper；　where　the　crease　ran。
　
　〃WHAT　ARE　YOU　DOING　THERE？〃
　
　She　could　feel　her　chest　constricting。　She　tried　to　quell　the　sudden　inordinate　quickness　of　her　breathing；　lest　it　betray　itself。
　Mother　Hazzard　was　showing　Hughie　his　plate。　〃All　gone。　Hughie　ate　it　all　up！　Where　is　it？〃
　She'd　lowered　it　into　her　lap　now。　She　managed　to　get　it　back　into　its　envelope；　and　fold　that　over；　singly　and　then　doubly；　until　it　fitted　into　the　span　of　her　hand。
　〃One　more　and　something　will　snap。〃　And　here　it　was；　the　one　more。
　She　could　feel　her　self…control　ebbing　away；　and　didn't　know　what　catastrophic　form　its　loss　might　take。　〃I've　got　to　get　out　of　this　room；〃　she　warned　herself。　〃I've　got　to　get　away　from　this　table…　now…quickly！〃
　She　stood　up　suddenly；　stumbling　a　little　over　her　chair。　She　turned　and　left　the　table　without　a　word。
　〃Patrice；　aren't　you　going　to　have　your　coffee？〃
　〃I'll　be　right　down；〃　she　said　smotheredly；　from　the　other　side　of　the　doorway。　〃I　forgot　something。〃
　She　got　up　there；　into　her　room；　and　got　the　door　closed。
　It　was　like　the　bursting　of　a　dam。　She　hadn't　known　what　form　it　would　take。　Tears；　she'd　thought；　or　high…pitched　hysterical　laughter。　It　was　neither。　It　was　anger；　a　paroxysm　of　rage；　blinded　and　baffled　and　helpless。
　She　went　over　to　the　wall　and　flailed　with　upraised　fists　against　it；　held　high　over　her　head。　And　then　around　to　the　next　wall　and　the　next　and　the　next；　like　somebody　seeking　an　outlet；　crying　out　distractedly：　〃Who　are　you　yourself？　Where　are　you　sending　them　from？　Why　don't　you　e　out？　Why　don't　you　e　out　in　the　open？　Why　don't　you　e　out　where　I　can　see　you？　Why　don't　you　e　out　and　give　me　a　chance　to　fight　back？〃
　Until　at　last　she'd　stopped；　wilted　and　breathing　fast　with　spent　emotion。　In　its　wake　came　sudden　determination。　There　was　only　one　way　to　fight　back；　only　one　way　she　had　to　rob　the　attacks　of　their　power　to　harm…
　She　flung　the　door　open。　She　started　down　the　stairs　again。　Still　as　tearless　as　she'd　gone　up。　She　was　going　fast；　she　was　rippling　down　them　in　a　quick…step。　She　was　still　holding　it　in　her　hand。　She　opened　it　up；　back　to　its　full　size；　and　started　smoothing　it　out　as　she　went。
　She　came　back　into　the　dining…room　still　at　the　same　gait　she'd　used　on　the　stairs。
　〃…drank　all　his　milk　like　a　good　boy；〃　Mother　Hazzard　was　crooning。
　Patrice　moved　swiftly　around　the　table　toward　her；　stopped　short　beside　her。
　〃I　want　to　show　you　something；〃　she　said　tersely。　〃I　want　you　to　see　this。〃
　She　put　it　down　on　the　table　squarely　in　front　of　her　and　stood　there　waiting。
　〃Just　a　moment；　dear；　let　me　find　my　glasses；〃　Mother　Hazzard　purred　acquiescently。　She　probed　here　and　there　among　the　breakfast　things。　〃I　know　I　had　them　with　me　when　Father　was　here　at　the　table；　we　were　both　reading　the　paper。〃　She　looked　over　toward　the　buffet　on　the　other　side　of　her。
　Patrice　stood　there　waiting。　She　looked　over　at　Hughie。　He　was　still　holding　his　spoon；　entire　fist　folded　possessively　around　it。　He　flapped　it　at　her　joyously。　Home。　Peace。
　Suddenly　she'd　reached　over　to　her　own　place　at　the　table；　picked　up　the　department…store　circular　still　lying　there；　replaced　the　first　letter　with　that。
　〃Here　they　are；　under　my　napkin。　Right　in　front　of　me　the　whole　time。〃　Mother　Hazzard　adjusted　them；　turned　back　to　her。　〃Now　what　was　it；　dear？〃　She　opened　the　folder　and　looked　at　it。
　Patrice　pointed。　〃This　pattern；　right　here。　The　first　one。　Isn't　it…　attractive？〃
　Behind　her　back；　held　in　one　hand；　the　abducted　missive　slowly　crumpled；　deflated；　was　sucked　between　her　fingers　into　pressed　invisibility。
　
　
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　Quietly　and　deftly　she　moved　about　the　dimly　lighted　room；　passing　back　and　forth；　and　forth　and　back；　with　armfuls　of　belongings　from　the　drawers。　Hughie　lay　sleeping　in　his　crib；　and　the　clock　said　almost　one。
　The　valise　stood　open　on　a　chair。　Even　that　wasn't　hers。　It　was　the　one　she'd　first　used　on　the　train…ride　here；　new…looking　as　ever；　the　one　with　〃PH〃　on　its　rounded　corner。　She'd　have　to　borrow　it。　Just　as　she　was　borrowing　the　articles　she　picked　at　random；　to　throw　into　it。　Just　as　she　was　borrowing　the　very　clothes　she　stood　in。　There　were　only　two　things　in　this　whole　room　with　her　now　that　were　rightfully　hers。　That　little　bundle　sleeping　quietly　there　in　the　crib。　And　that　seventeen　cents　lying　spread　out　on　a　scrap　of　paper　on　the　dresser…top。
　She　took　things　for　him；　mostly。　Things　he　needed；　things　to　keep　him　warm。　They　wouldn't　mind；　they　wouldn't　begrudge　that；　they　loved　him　almost　as　much　as　she　did；　she　reasoned　ruefully。　She　quickened　her　movements；　as　if　the　danger　of　faltering　in　purpose　lay　somewhere　along　this　train　of　thought　if　she　lingered　on　it　too　long。
　For　herself　she　took　very　little；　only　what　was　of　absolute　necessity。　Underthings；　an　extra　pair　or　two　of　stockings…
　Things；　things。　What　did　things　matter；　when