Classic English Mystery and Detective Stories
Page 40
I turn my eyes for a moment, and they fall upon the northern corner of the East Room, which shows round the edge of the house. Then the skeleton leaps from the cupboard of my memory; the icy hand which lies ever near my soul grips it suddenly with a chill shudder. Not for nothing was that wretched woman's life interwoven with my own, if only for an hour; not for nothing did my spirit harbor a conflict and an agony, which, thank God, are far from its own story. Though Margaret Mervyn's dagger failed to pierce my flesh, the wound in my soul may never wholly be healed. I know that that is so; and yet as I turn to start through the sunshine to the cedar shade and its laughing occupants, I whisper to myself with fervent conviction, "It was worth it."
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Endnotes
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[1] Margrave's former nurse and attendant.
[2] Vide Betterton's History of the Stage.
[3] Rochefoucauld.
[4] A fact, related to me by a person who was near committing suicide in a similar situation, to escape what he called "the excruciating torture of giddiness."
[5] Hackney coach.
[6] Plate, napkin, knife, fork, and spoon.
[7] A small violin, such as was used by the wandering jongleurs of the Middle Ages.—EDITOR.
[8] The Cornhill.—editor.
[9] Here Thackeray reduces to an absurdity the literary fashion of the day—the vogue for startling stories and "Tales of Terror," which was high in his time, and which influenced several of the stories which precede in this volume. But while Dickens made fun, with mental reservations; while Bulwer Lytton tried to explain by rising to the heights of natural philosophy, and Maturin did not explain at all, but let his extravagant genius roam between heaven and earth—Thackeray's keen wit saw mainly one chance for exquisite literary satire and parody. At one point or another in this skit, the style of each principal sensational novelist of the day is delightfully imitated.—EDITOR.
[10] Mr. Thackeray retired from the Editorship of the Cornhill Magazine in March, 1862