Chapter 27 Chapter Fourteen

Presently Jenny stood up and walked down the stairs.She walked silently on the street.In spite of her exhaustion, her instinct of thrift did not take a carriage, but she plodded, intending to walk to Waterloo.The night was dark and cold, and the November drizzle soaked through her clothes, but in her grief she didn't notice it.She just walked, looking straight ahead, with a look of despair on her face, and she saw neither houses nor people.She walked through the hustle and bustle of Piccadilly as if she were walking through an empty street.People held umbrellas and rushed back to their homes, or ignored the bad weather and wandered aimlessly.Sometimes, she could not help sobbing, and hot, painful tears rolled down her cheeks.The road ahead is long, and she seems to be unable to hold on.Her limbs seemed heavier than lead and were in excruciating pain.But she still didn't want to ride, because the pain of being still was always stronger than the pain of moving.She crossed Westminster Bridge, and before she knew it, she was in Waterloo.She was so dazed that the porters on the side thought she had been drinking.Jenny asked when the train would arrive, and sat down to wait.The electric light struggled to penetrate the damp night. Under the flickering lights, the station looked empty and lonely.It's an incredible place.It is disorganized and eerie, and stretches grotesquely into infinity: people come and go, porters pass with luggage, trains come and go.This situation made the tormented her feel even more terrible and painful.

In the end, Jenny made it to Barnes, but she didn't feel relief—if she felt any at all—only more pain.For she recalled summer days when she held Basil's hand tightly and wandered with him in the park under the soft blue sky; but now it was dark and ugly; It was burnt and looked dirty.Even under the cover of night, everything in front of me is so desolate and filthy.She came to the narrow hut, opened the door, went in, and then went upstairs again.In any case, she still vaguely hoped that Basil had returned—for it was next to impossible to keep her from seeing him again.Yet he was not there.Tears were not enough to express her distress now, so she paced the room frantically, mechanically putting misplaced objects back into place.She looked in the mirror in the bedroom and compared herself with Mrs. Murray.Noting with bitter pride her beautiful hair, bright eyes, and near-perfect smooth skin, she realized that, for all she had been through, she was far more beautiful and younger than Mrs. Murray .When she recalled the good old days in the Golden Crown Bar, she couldn't understand why she was so weak after being with Basil.How many men have loved her passionately, and how many men have let her boss her around; some men who like to stare at her erotically will tremble when they touch her hand; Desire was ignited, and his face paled instantly.People have been admiring her beauty, but Basil is ignorant.So she asked herself, with bewilderment, with the Puritan instincts of her English blood, why she had been punished so painfully.She's done her best: she's a good, devoted wife, and always goes out of her way to please her husband; even so, he loathes her.Almighty God seemed to be against her: she was utterly powerless before an evil force.

She still clings to a glimmer of hope.She knew the expected arrival time of each train, and painfully estimated the time it took for the train to arrive and the passengers to go home.The night was drawing to a close, and the trains arrived one after another, but she never saw Basil.The last train also passed, and she finally despaired—she fully understood that he would not come back tonight.She felt that it was over between them, that even the last ray of hope had been shattered.She recalled his hateful look and contemptuous words again; she still couldn't help trembling at the thought of the moment when all the passion he had suppressed for a long time broke out in anger.Jenny wished so much that she could ignore what Basil had done. Even now, she would be grateful if he could come back to her, even if she couldn't have his love.She didn't have to force Basil to publicly confess her love for Mrs. Murray. Compared with this terrible "revealing the truth", the "full of suspicion" that had tortured her before seemed much better.She could bear anything without losing Basil completely, and was grateful to see him only now and then.But if she never saw Basil again, she would die soon.

Her heart suddenly throbbed.She's going to die soon...that's how it all works out.She couldn't live with this pain anymore, it was such a terrible misfortune--it would be so much better to be dead, to feel no pain at all. "They didn't leave me any room," she repeated, "that was the only way I could go." Maybe he would only show up if he was dead, and maybe feel sorry for her.He might regret what he had said, that he had not been kinder and more tolerant to her.She knew that it was impossible to redeem his love alive, but what about death?Maybe death can work a miracle?The thought seized, occupied, dominated her mind deeply.The poor woman felt a surge of excitement, and she got out of bed without a moment's hesitation, put on her hat, and went out of the house.She walked quickly, sustained by an incredible determination to die.She longed to escape from all the troubles and go to peace; she hoped to break away from the emotional pain that the physical pain could not reach and find a safe shelter.In this dark and quiet night, she came to the dark river that was flowing quietly, where the water was fast and dangerous, and the water was icy cold.But it didn't frighten her in the slightest.If her heart beat faster, it was only great joy, because she was determined to end her suffering.It was a gloomy night, which made her happy.She thanked God—for it was raining and the wanderers had long since disappeared.Along the sidewalk, she came to a familiar place - a year ago, a woman jumped from here and ended her life.The water here is deep and the banks are relatively steep.Jenny used to tremble when she passed by; on one occasion, she half-jokingly said she was walking to her own grave.Suddenly she saw a man coming in that direction, and she hid herself in the shadow under the wall, so that the man passed by without noticing that he was there; and from the trees in the garden, water kept falling.She came to the place she was looking for, looked around, and made sure that there were no people around.She took off her hat and put it under the corner of the wall, trying to keep it from getting wet.Then, without hesitation, she walked to the bank of the river.She didn't feel frightened at all.For a moment she looked at the slow, relentless flow of the river, and then made a brave leap.

Basil, after leaving Mrs. Murray's, went to Harley Street, only to find Frank gone.So he went on, to the club, where he spent the whole night moping, in despair and misery.He suffers because Hilda has shown her attitude—she will marry Farley, the pastor of All Souls Church, and regrets the pain she caused to his wife.At first, he had planned to spend the night in the city, but the more he thought about it, the more he felt that he should go back to Barnes, because although he had every intention of being separated from Jenny, he felt that he couldn't do it anyway, considering some of the things he had experienced together before. Separated in this angry way.But he also knew that it would be inappropriate to see Jenny again right away, so he decided to go back later—she would probably be asleep by then.He couldn't sleep at all, and was afraid of waking up, so he planned to start.He didn't get back to their cabin until two o'clock in the morning, and just as he was about to go in, he was surprised to find a policeman ringing the doorbell.

"What can you do, Mr. Police?" he asked. "Are you Mr. Basil Kent? Will you come with me to the police station? Your wife has had an accident." Basil let out an exclamation, his heart was filled with fear, and he hurriedly asked the policeman what it meant.The policeman, however, simply repeated that he must go to the police station immediately.So they rushed to the police station together.A scout told him the sad news. "Now we need you to make sure it's your wife, she was seen walking down the pavement and jumping into the river, she died before we could help."

Basil couldn't understand the meaning of these words at all, his eyes were dull and terrified.He opened his mouth to speak, but all he could do was gasp incomprehensibly.He scanned the people around him, and they looked at him indifferently.He felt the whole room change direction, and then he couldn't see anything.He was so frightened that he was about to faint. It seemed that someone had brutally torn his sutured skull open.His hands were pointing all over the place, and the prosecutor understood and led him to where his wife lay.A doctor is still there, but seems to have stopped all attempts to bring the dead back to life.

"This is her husband," said the man who had brought Basil in. "There was nothing we could do," murmured the doctor, "she was dead when she was brought ashore." Basil looked at her, then lowered his head and covered his face with his hands.He felt himself suddenly about to scream at the top of his voice.It looked horrific, unbelievable. "Why did she do that, do you know why?" asked the doctor. Basil did not answer.He stared distractedly at Jenny's closed eyes and messy, soaked hair. "Oh my God, what am I supposed to do? Is there nothing I can do?"

The doctor looked at him, then told the sergeant to bring some brandy.Basil, however, pushed it aside in disgust. "Now, what do you want me to do?" "You'd better go home now, and I'll take you back," said the doctor. Basil watched him timidly, and his eyes had an indifferent blackness that shone in a deathly pale face. "Send me home? Can't I stay here?" Someone grabbed his arm and took him away.When he reached the door, the doctor asked him if he could bear it. "No problem, I'm fine, don't worry!" He entered the door and walked up the stairs, feeling a sense of dread.He screamed when he tripped over a chair.He sat down and tried to sort out his thoughts, but his mind was still churning so violently that he feared he would go crazy, and his brain seemed to be going through two kinds of torture from then on—mental and physical pain combined .Then, the scene of the police station, which was not yet blurred and dim, began to emerge in front of his eyes.At this moment, he suddenly saw every detail with strange and detailed: the bare stone walls of the mortuary, the flashing lights and distorted shadows.The facial expressions of the people in the uniform (every feature, every expression is very different), and the remains of Jenny!These scenes pierced Basil to the very depths of his soul, and filled him with terror and conscience, and he was almost fainting.He sighed his pain.He didn't know that he could bear so many changes.

"Oh, if only she'd waited a little longer! If I'd come back sooner, I might be able to save her." Similarly, he still clearly remembered what happened that afternoon, and he was stunned by his own cruelty.He kept repeating what he had said to Jenny, seeing the pitiful look on her face as she begged for another chance.Her voice still buzzed in his ears, and the pain in her eyes frightened him.It was all his fault, all his fault! "I killed her. It's no different from strangling her to death with my own hands." His imagination was fired.He saw the scene by the river, a terrible sight in the dark, swift, cold water, and he heard the splash and the cry of terror.He saw the struggle of life—for a moment, the desire to survive overwhelmed everything else.Jenny's agony as she was drowning and suffocating made him tremble, and he felt the horrible choking of water and futile breathing.Emotionally, he suddenly shed tears.

He then recalled the love Jenny had shown him, and his own ingratitude.What else could he do but bitterly blame himself?He never tried to cherish anything.The first obstacle demoralized him so much that he forgot his responsibilities.She entrusted herself completely to him with full confidence, but he brought her endless pain instead of the happiness she longed for; he brought her a terrible death instead of her immense love for his sake life.Eventually, he felt he couldn't go on living anymore because he despised himself.What tomorrow and the day after will be like, he cannot foresee.His life was over, in misery and utter despair.How should he live, thinking of those reproachful eyes, he felt his soul was burned, so he felt that he could no longer sleep peacefully.So, he suddenly and strongly wanted to end his life like Jenny did, in order to make amends for her death, and also to gain peace.A terrible fascination suddenly overwhelmed him, and as if hypnotized, he went down the stairs, into the street, and shuffled all the way to the place where Jenny had killed herself.However, his consciousness is clear.Even in the pitch black night, he could still see everything that happened here.The water was still lapping against the banks, but looking at the water he began to get discouraged and began to tremble.The water was too cold, and he couldn't bear the pain of drowning.But Jenny did it so easily.From this point of view, when she jumped down, she must have mustered up her courage without any hesitation.He retched with fear, began to resent his own cowardice, and turned away from the terrible place.Before long, he started walking instead of running, and by the time he got home, his limbs were shaking.In this way, he finally no longer has to face death. However, he still found it difficult to live any longer, so he took a revolver from the desk drawer and loaded it.Now, with a single touch, the unbearable humiliation, the regret, the end of all suffering.He gazed at the small weapon in his hand—it was beautifully designed and stylish; and suddenly a passion came to him, and he dropped the pistol.He couldn't die now, because, anyway, he was still in love; and suddenly he felt frightened and began to tremble again.He understood that the pain caused by the wound was actually insignificant.During the war, he was wounded, but at that time, the fiery bullets did not make him feel the heart-piercing pain now.It was three o'clock in the morning and he couldn't bear the rest of the night.There were almost five hours before dawn, and the darkness of the night made him feel endless fear.He tried to read, but his mind was so confused now that he couldn't read the words at all.He lay down on the sofa, closed his eyes, and wanted to sleep, but when he closed his eyes, he clearly saw Jenny's pale and terrifying face, her tightly clenched hands, and her dripping hair .There was a cruel silence in the room.He caught a glimpse of Jenny's sewing on the little table, which she had casually put down on the table as she went out; he seemed to see her again, sitting at the table as usual, absorbed in her own sewing.He could bear the pain no longer, so he got up, took his hat, and went straight out.He had to find someone to talk to, someone to listen to his pain and sorrow.He forgot the time and walked quickly.There was no one on the road, and on that dark, cold, starless night he could barely see the road in front of him; no one would pass him by, so that he could walk through the streets as if he were crossing a desert. .Finally, after crossing the bridge, many houses finally appeared before his eyes.As he walked on the sidewalk, his panic and fear suddenly eased a little as he recalled the crowds that filled these streets during the day.His aimless footsteps suddenly had a purpose, and he began to consciously drag his body towards Frank's house.He had to find someone to help him and give him some advice on how to bear it all.As he was already exhausted, his steps gradually slowed down, but the journey seemed endless.Finally, the city showed a little sign of recovery.Horse-drawn carriages began to pass by the side of the road from time to time, and they ran on the road carrying the products of Covent Garden; the milk shops everywhere began to shine with twilight.He was moved by these hard workers who got up early, and it was their hasty work that made him feel like he was back in the world.He stood in front of a butcher's shop for a while, the silhouette of the muscular boss appeared in the sun, as if the ground became energetic. At last, what seemed to be hours after he had left Barnes, Basil reached Harley Street and continued staggering on.He rang the night bell and waited at the door, but there was no answer.Possibly, he thought bitterly, Frank was on a medical call.He is exhausted now, he can no longer move, where can he go?He had covered sixteen miles since midnight.He rang the doorbell again, and soon there was a response.The lights in the hall came on, and then someone opened the door in front of him. "Frank, Frank, for God's sake, let me in! I think I'm going to die." Frank looked at his friend in amazement, his hair was disheveled, he was not wearing a coat, his body was wet, and there were splashes of mud; Nowhere will it be released.Frank didn't speak, just grabbed Basil's arm and led him into the house.At this moment, what little strength Basil had left was gone, he sank into a chair, and passed out. "Stupid!" Frank murmured. He grabbed the scruff of his neck, and bent his head down hard until it touched his knees; soon Basil regained consciousness. "I'll get you some brandy while you bury your head like this." Frank was not one to panic when something unexpected happened, so he methodically poured out the right amount of brandy and let Basil drink it.He asked Basil to sit quietly for a while, and not to speak; then he took out his pipe, filled it with tobacco, lit it, sat down in silence, wrapped himself tightly in his clothes, and began to smoke. Come.His series of nonchalant gestures gave Basil great comfort, for he could escape the terrible tension in the presence of Frank, who was not in the least shocked by his sudden intrusion and was still acting calmly.Frank's inattention brought some hypnotic effects to Basil, and he felt a lot more relaxed for no reason.At last the doctor turned and faced him. "I think you'd better take your clothes off. I can get you a set of pajamas." Frank's words suddenly brought Basil back to the terrible reality. With dull eyes, hoarse voice, and panting in pain, he told the terrible story to Frank incoherently.Then, breaking down again, he hid his face and started another round of crying. "Oh, I can't take it, I can't take it!" Frank watched him, brooding, wondering what he should do next. "Last night, I almost killed myself." "Do you see any advantage in doing that?" "I despise myself. I don't think I deserve to live anymore; but I don't have the courage to do it. People say cowards who destroy themselves: they don't know how much courage it takes to kill themselves. I can't face that Pain, but Jenny faced it so easily—she just walked out onto the towpath and jumped into the river. And I don't know what's on the other side. Maybe there really was a vengeful god, when we When we break his law, he punishes us forever." "Basil, if I were you, I wouldn't be so excited. You might as well go to sleep in the next room. If you could sleep a few hours, you'd be much better off." "Do you think I'll sleep?" cried Basil. "Come on," said Frank, taking his hand. He took him to the bedroom, and Basil didn't resist, just took off his clothes and lay down.Next, Frank produced his hypodermic syringe. "Now hold out your hand and don't move. I just want to give you a needle, it won't hurt very much." He injected some morphine, and after a while, watched with satisfaction as he fell asleep comfortably. Frank put down his syringe and smiled thoughtfully. "It's funny," he murmured, "that the wildest and saddest human emotions are no match for a dose of morphine." This trifle calms the turmoil of emotion; under this force grief and remorse lose their force, pangs of conscience are quelled, and the great enemy of man—pain—is vanquished. .It also underscores the fact that the most delicate of human emotions depends on what idiots classify as immoral.As a result, Frank began to express his extreme dislike for dualists, spiritualists, Christian scientists, charlatans, and those who popularized science.Next, wrapped in a blanket, he reclined comfortably in an armchair, waiting for the lingering dawn. Two hours later, Frank was in Barnes, where he was at the police station with more specific information about Jenny's tragic death.Frank told investigators that Kent was now in a complete breakdown and couldn't do anything in person.Afterwards, he left them his home address and handled all related matters in the police station.He learned that the interrogation might take place in two days' time, and he assured Basil that he would be there in person.Afterwards, he went to their house and found the maid in a state of panic as the master and mistress were absent.So he told her what happened yesterday, and then he wrote to James Bush to tell him about it.He promised the maid that he would be back the next morning, and got up and went back to Harley Street. Basil was awake, but very depressed.He didn't speak all day.Frank could only guess at the magnitude of his pain.Scenes with Hilda and the complaints he had made to his wife kept coming to his mind; when he thought of his wife, he always saw two scenes: she begged him to give her another chance, and then --die.Sometimes he felt himself on the verge of screaming in pain when he recalled the passionate words he had said to Hilda, for it seemed that it was his own final surrender to selfish desires that had brought about the whole tragedy. The next day, before going out, Frank went to see Basil.At that time, he was looking depressedly at the fire. "Dude, I'm going to Barnes. Do you need anything?" Basil began to tremble violently, and his face became paler and more terrifying. "How's the interrogation? Do I have to attend?" "I'm afraid so." "That way the whole thing will come out. They'll know it's all my fault and I can't hold my head up anymore. Oh, Frank, there's nothing we can do about it?" Frank shook his head.Basil drooped the corners of his mouth, looking desperate.He didn't speak again after that.He didn't jump up until Frank was about to leave the room. "Frank, there is one thing you must do for me. I guess you think I'm a mean, cruel man. God knows how much I loathe myself as much as anyone else—but, for all the years we've been friends Come on, do one more thing for me. I don't know what Jenny said to her family. They must be glad to have a chance to hit me when I'm down - but whatever, don't let Mrs. Murray implicated." Frank stopped and thought for a moment. "I'll see what I can do," he replied. On the way to Waterloo, Frank stopped into Old Queen Street just in time for Miss Ley to be having breakfast. "Is Basil all right this morning?" she asked. "Poor man! He is in a terrible state. I really don't know what to do with him. I think he'd better go abroad as soon as the trial is over." "Until then, why don't you let him stay with me? I can help him." "You'll just make a fuss. He'll be better off by himself. He'll think about it until he's mentally exhausted, and then things will get better." Miss Ley only smiled at the contempt with which he had rejected her proposal, and waited for him to go on. "Listen, I wish you would lend me some money. Could you put two hundred and fifty pounds into my account this morning?" "Of course," she replied, seeming pleased to have the request. She went to the table and pulled out a checkbook, and Frank looked at her with a smile. "Don't you want to know what the money is for?" "No, unless you are willing to tell me." "You are such a kind person!" He shook her hand warmly, glanced at his watch, and hurried off to Waterloo.When he reached Basil's house, Fanny, the maid, opened the door for him and informed him that James Bush was waiting to see him.She said James had been telling her what he was going to do to destroy Basil, rummaging through the house for papers and letters.Frank thanked himself for being cautious—he kept everything locked up.He walked softly upstairs, opened the door, and found James trying various keys at the desk.When Frank came in, he jumped up, but quickly regained his composure. "Why are all the drawers locked?" he asked rudely. "Probably to prevent curious people from looking inside." Frank replied mildly. "Where is that man? He killed my sister. He's a villain, a murderer! I'm going to tell him these things in his presence!" "I was thinking of seeing you here, Mr. Bush. I wanted to talk to you. Won't you sit down?" "No, I won't sit," he answered grimly, "it's not where a gentleman should sit. But I'll even be with him. I'll tell a good story to the jury. He deserves to be hanged .Yes, hanged." Frank looked sharply at the auction house clerk, who had keen, suspicious eyes, a thin lip, and a mean expression.Since Basil was already very ill and didn't need to explain his family affairs in the cross-examination, in order to avoid disgraceful scenes during the interrogation, Frank felt that James should be brought into the state of mind he expected, which was not the case. It wasn't difficult; but it was the disgust of the man that inspired him to do it, and it was the disgust that led him to an almost brutal and candid approach.He felt that it was best not to cover up when dealing with this kind of person, and there was no need to use flattering and euphemistic words to cover up his original intention. "What do you think it would do you any good to make a fuss at an interrogation?" he said, gazing into the other's eyes. "Oh, you've figured it out, haven't you? Did Barrister Basil ask you to persuade me? It's no use, boy. I'm just going to do my best to make things as bad as possible for Basil. He treated me like dirt. I was always not good enough for him." He screamed these words with the utmost malice, conceivably he didn't really care about his sister's death, it just gave him an opportunity to vent his long-held grievances. "You might as well sit down quietly and listen to me for five minutes without interrupting me." "You're trying to confuse me now, but you're not going to get it. You're like a pane of glass to me. I can see right through you. You West Enders—you always think you know everything!" Frank waited calmly until James Bush had finished his offensive remarks. "How much do you think the furniture in this house is worth?" James was taken aback by this question, but he answered after a while. "There's a big difference between what it's worth and what it's sold for. If a man of the trade wanted to sell it, it might sell for a hundred pounds." "Basil considers giving it to your mother and sister—provided, of course, that you keep your mouth shut at the interrogation." James suddenly burst into a sarcastic laugh. "You can be funny. Do you think giving my mother and sister a room full of furniture will shut me up?" "I don't appreciate your impartiality," Frank sneered. "I'm coming to you now—seems like you owe Basil a lot of money. Will you pay it?" "cannot." "Also, is it difficult to have an account at your last workplace?" "You're talking nonsense," James interrupted impatiently. "Maybe," retorted Frank with great coolness. "I'm only mentioning this to remind your sharp mind that if you're going to make a fuss, we can make life hard for you too. Both sides can talk about it." "I don't care," James cried bitterly. "I just want revenge. If I can put a knife in that person, I'm willing to pay the consequences." "I understand that your purpose is to expose all of Basil's married life in front of the pompous jury." Frank paused, looked at the man standing opposite him, "I'll give you fifty pounds, Can you shut up?" The deal was offered with irony.In fact, James blushed.He jumped up angrily and walked over to Frank.Frank, on the other hand, was still sitting there, watching him with pleasure and indifference. "Are you trying to bribe me? I'll let you know I'm a gentleman; more importantly, I'm British and I'm proud of it. No one has ever tried to bribe me before." "If there is, you'll accept it without a doubt," Frank murmured. The little clerk was frustrated by Frank's coolness.He vaguely felt that his exaggerated righteousness was ridiculous, because Frank had already taken precise measures, so all pretentiousness was useless. "Come on, come on, Mr. Bush, don't be a fool. This money will undoubtedly be of use to you, and you're too smart to let personal grievances affect you when the stakes are high." "Do you think fifty pounds is a lot to me?" James cried, but with a hint of hesitation. "You must have misheard what I just said," said Frank, with a quick glance at him. "I said one hundred and fifty pounds." "Oh!" He blushed again, with a strange expression on his face, "that would make a big difference." "Oh?" Frank could see that the man was struggling in his heart, but there was a look of shame on his face, which aroused Frank's interest even more.James hesitated, but then forced himself to speak; but without his usual confidence—almost a murmur. "Listen, if it's two hundred, I'll agree." "No," Frank replied firmly, "you can take a hundred and fifty or—get out of here." James didn't answer, but he seemed to agree.Frank then took a check from his pocket, put it on the table, filled it out, and handed it to James. "I'll give you fifty now, and I'll give it to you after the rest of the interrogation is over." James nodded without answering.He displayed a rare humility.He looked at the door, then glanced at Frank - who quickly understood what he meant. "You don't need to be here anymore. If there's anything I need you to do, I'll let you know." "Then, goodbye." James Bush came out with the air of a lagging dog.The maid immediately entered the room. "Is Mr. Bush gone?" Frank asked. "Going away. Thank goodness." Frank looked at her thoughtfully. "Ah, Fanny, if there were no rascals in the world, life would be too hard for a righteous man."