Chapter 14 Chapter Fourteen

I found myself in the corridor again, the one I had lingered on the morning I first arrived at Manderley.I haven't been here since, and don't want to.Sunlight streamed in from windows in the recesses of the walls, weaving patterns of gold across the dark wainscot paneling of the passage. It was quiet all around, without any sound.Same as last time, I smelled that unusual musty smell again.I wasn't sure which way to go; the layout of the rooms was unfamiliar to me.At this moment, I suddenly remembered that the last time Mrs. Danvers came out through a door behind me. Judging from the direction, that seemed to be the room I wanted to go to. lawn by the sea.I turned the handle of the door and walked in.The shutters were fully drawn, and of course it was dark in the room.

I reached for the light switch on the wall and turned it on. It was a small front room, I presume it was a dressing room, with tall wardrobes all along the walls.At the far end of the room was a doorway that opened into a larger room.I walked through the door into the inner room, turned on the light, looked around, and couldn't help but be surprised. It turned out that the furniture and furnishings in the room were all in place, as if someone had always lived there. I thought the table, chairs, and the big double bed against the wall would all be covered by a sheet, but nothing happened.On the dressing table are hairbrushes, combs, perfume and powder.The bed was also made evenly, and you could still see the snow-white pillowcase and a corner of the blanket peeking out from under the sandwich coverlet.There are fresh flowers on the dresser and nightstand.There were also fresh flowers on the carved mantelpiece.On the armchair was a satin dressing gown, and beneath it a pair of bedroom slippers.For a split second, my mind was suddenly blurred, as if time had gone backwards.And I looked at the room when she was still alive... After a while, Rebecca herself would come back into the room, hum a little tune, sit down in front of the mirror of the dressing table, reach for the comb, and comb her hair .If I sat there too, I could see her reflection in the mirror, and she would see me in the mirror standing like this in the doorway.None of this happened of course.I still stood there dumbfounded, expecting something to happen.It was the ticking of the clock on the wall that brought me back to real life.The arm of the clock said twenty-five past four, just as my watch said.The ticking of the clock, listening to the restoration of normal sanity, feels relieved.It reminds me not to forget the present, and not to forget that the tea will soon be there on the lawn, waiting for me to enjoy it.

I walked slowly to the center of the room.No, this room is not used now, no one lives here anymore.Even those flowers could not dispel the musty smell in the house.The curtains were drawn and the shutters were closed.Rebecca will not come back here again. Even if Mrs. Danvers had placed flowers on the mantelpiece and spread sheets on the bed, it would not have been able to bring her back.She is dead, and it has been a year since she passed away.She lay in the churchyard with the rest of the de Winter family. The sound of the waves is clearly audible.I went to the window and drew the blinds.Yes, I am standing at the same window where Favell and Mrs. Danvers were half an hour ago.Rays of daylight streamed into the room.The electric light suddenly appeared dim and flickering.I opened the shutters a little more.A beam of bright sunlight fell on the bed, so that the pajama bag on the pillow, the glass mirror on the top of the dressing table, the hairbrush and the perfume bottle all suddenly lit up.

Daylight gives the room a stronger sense of reality.When the shutters were closed, the room looked more like a stage set in the light, like a scene prepared between two acts.The night play has come to an end, and tonight's performance is over, and the stage is replaced with the set of the first act of the next day's Japanese play.The daylight makes the whole room come alive and full of atmosphere.I forgot the musty smell of the room, and the curtains on the other windows were still drawn.I was a guest again, an uninvited guest who wandered into the mistress' bedroom by mistake.On the dressing table was her hairbrush, and beyond the armchair were her dressing gown and slippers.

After entering this room, for the first time, I felt my legs go weak and tremble.I had to sit down on the stool in front of the dresser.My heart was no longer beating violently because of the strange excitement, but it was as heavy as a weight of lead.I was in a daze, looking around the room in a daze.Yes, this is a beautiful room.On the evening of my first arrival, Mrs. Danvers had not exaggerated the fact that this room was the prettiest room in the house.Look at the fine mantelpiece, the ceiling, the carved bedstead, the tassels on the drapery, the clock on the wall, and the candlestick on the dresser beside me, all of which I would give if they were mine. If it is a treasure, you can't put it down.But these things are not mine, but belong to another person.I reached out to touch the pair of hairbrushes.One is older.I understand this, people tend to use one hairbrush so much that they forget the other, so when they take it to the wash, one of them is still clean and has hardly been used.Look at my own face in the mirror, how pale and thin, with my straight and ugly long hair dragging like this.Have I always been like this?In the past, his face was always rosier than now, right?The person in the mirror, with a disheveled face and an ordinary appearance, stared blankly at me.

I stood up straight, went to the chair, touched the dressing gown on the chair, picked up the slippers and held them in my hands. A sense of fear suddenly hit my heart, which became stronger and stronger, and then gradually turned into despair.I touched the bedding on the bed, and moved my fingers along the strokes of the letter pattern on the pajama bag. The pattern was formed by overlapping and interweaving the words "R? De Winter".The raised letters were embroidered on gold satin, and they were hard earned.The pajamas in the bag were apricot yellow and as thin as a cicada's wing.

After feeling it, I took it out of the bag and stuck it on my cheek.The clothes are cold and cold, and they must have been fragrant and refreshing, exuding the fragrance of white rhododendrons, but now there is a faint musty smell.I folded the pajamas and put them back in the sack, feeling a dull ache in my heart as I did so; I noticed a few creases in the pajamas, a sudden wrinkle in the smooth weave, showing that it had been worn since the last time it was worn. It has never been touched, nor sent to laundering. On a sudden impulse, I couldn't help walking away from the bed, and turned back into the small front room, where I had just seen several wardrobes.I opened one of them.As expected, it was filled with clothes.Here is the dress.The clothes were wrapped in a white cloth bag, and I saw silver light shining above the mouth of the cloth bag. It turned out to be a golden brocade dress.Next to it was a light yellow, soft velvet coat, and a long white satin skirt, which trailed to the bottom of the wardrobe. On the upper shelf, there was an ostrich fan protruding from under a thin wrapping paper. Come on.

The closet had a strange smell due to lack of ventilation.Rhododendrons have a pleasant fragrance outdoors, but this fragrance is stuffy in the closet, which not only loses the smell, but also makes the silk and brocade lose their luster.At this time, a burst of fragrant azaleas came to me from the open wardrobe door.I closed the closet door and went into the bedroom again.Clear and bright daylight poured in from the window, and on the gold bedcover, the tall italic R in the monogram was dazzling and chiselled in daylight. Just then, I heard footsteps behind me, and looking back, it was Mrs. Danvers.I will never forget the look on her face.There was a strange morbid agitation in the air of complacency and gloating.

I was scared out of my wits. "What's the matter, ma'am?" she said. I wanted to smile at her, but couldn't, I opened my mouth, but couldn't speak. "You don't feel well?" she said.The tone is extremely mild.She came up to me.I backed away, trying to avoid her. I believe that if she took another step towards me, I would faint.I could feel her breath on my face. "Nothing, Mrs. Danvers," I said after a while. "I didn't expect to see you here. Here's the thing: I was on the lawn looking up at the window now and then, and I noticed one of the shutters wasn't fully closed. I came up to see if I could close it properly. "

"I'll close it," she said, crossing the room without a sound, and fastening the shutters.The daylight disappeared, and under the dim and flickering light, the room suddenly lost its sense of reality, and looked unreal and gloomy again. Mrs. Danvers came again.Stand beside me with a smile on your face.Normally, she was always unsmiling and cold as ice, but now she was uncharacteristically, not only frighteningly warm, but also full of flattery. "Why did you tell me the shutters were open?" she said. "I closed the window before I left the house. You opened it yourself, didn't you, eh? You wanted to see this room. Why didn't you ask me to show you before? I was ready to accompany you every day." Come here. You only need to order."

I really wanted to get away and run away, but I couldn't move. I still looked into her eyes. "Since you're here now, let me take a good look with you." Her flattering tone was hypocritical, but sweet as honey, which made people feel astonished. "I know you want to see everything here, and you've been wanting to see it for a long time, but you're too embarrassed to mention it. It's a lovely room, isn't it? You've never seen such a lovely room, have you?" .” She grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the bed.I can't resist, like a wooden sculpture at the mercy of others. Her hand on my arm made me shiver.At this time, she spoke, her voice was very low, and she spoke in a kissy tone. I hate it the most, and I am most afraid of hearing this kind of tone of voice. "That's her bed. It's a gorgeous bed, isn't it? I've always had this blond coverlet on it, it was her favorite coverlet when she was alive. Here's her nightgown in the bag. You've already touched this pajamas, haven't you? It's the pajamas she wore for the last time, do you want to touch it again?" She took out the pajamas from the bag and stuffed them in front of me. "Hold and feel it," she said. "It's so soft and soft, isn't it? I haven't washed it since the last time she wore it. I laid out my pajamas, and my dressing gown, and slippers, just as they were when she came back that night. She didn't come back that night and drowned." She folded her pajamas and put them back in the sack. "You know, I've taken care of her all by myself," she said, taking my arm again, and leading me to my dressing gown and slippers. "We tried a lot of maids, but none were what she wanted. 'You serve better than anyone, Danny,' she used to say. 'I don't want anyone but you,' Look, it's hers." A dressing gown. She is much taller than you, as you can tell by the length of the dress. Try it on, and drag it down to your ankles. She has a pretty figure. Here are her slippers. 'Give me my slippers, Danny' she always said.For her tall figure, those feet were small and dainty.You may wish to put your hand in the slippers to try.The shoe is small and narrow, isn't it? " She forcibly put the slippers on my hand, with a smile on her face all the time.Staring into my eyes at the same time: "You never thought she would be so tall, did you?" she said. "These slippers fit only a pair of petite feet. She has a slender figure. You don't realize her slender figure unless she is standing next to you. She is almost as tall as I am. But she lies On the bed there, she looks like a little Jiaojiao, her thick black hair haloing her face." She put the slippers back on the floor and put the dressing gown back on the armchair. "You've seen her hairbrush, haven't you?" As he said, he pulled me to the dressing table again: "The hairbrush is here, just like when she was alive, it hasn't been washed, and no one Yes. I always do her hair every night. 'Come on, Danny, it's time to do my hair now,' she said, and I stood here by the stool and did it for twenty minutes at a stretch. You know, she didn't have her hair cut short until the last few years. When she first got married, it hung below her waist. Mr. de Winter used to comb her hair, and I don't know how many times I've come into this room I saw him in his shirt, with these two hairbrushes in his hands. 'Heavier, Max, heavier,' she said, smiling up at him, who, for his part, was always submissive to her. You know, they're always getting dressed together, ready to host a dinner party, and the house is full. 'Hey, I'm running out of time,' he said, throwing my hairbrush at me for a smile back. At that time, he was always full of spring breeze and beaming." Mrs Danvers paused, her hand still on my arm. "Everyone got mad at her when she cut her hair off," she continued. "But she doesn't care! 'It's my own business, nobody else's business,' she said. Of course, it's easier to ride and sail with short hair. You know, there was a picture of her riding a horse, whipping, by a famous painter, and it hung in the Royal Academy in London, have you ever seen that? " I shook my head and said, "No, I haven't." "I heard that painting was the best work of the year," she went on. "But Mr. de Winter didn't like the picture, and it wasn't allowed to hang in the Manderley. I think he thought it was not a good picture, and didn't show her enough. You want to see her clothes, don't you? "Without waiting for an answer, she led me into the little antechamber and opened the wardrobe bit by bit. "I put all her furs here," she said. "The furs haven't been mothed, and I don't think they ever will. I'm always on the lookout. You touch that sable neckerchief. It's a Christmas present from Mr. de Winter. Also told me how much it was worth, but I've forgotten now.This chinchilla shawl is what she uses most at night. On cold and windy nights, she often wraps it around her shoulders.This cabinet is filled with her evening dresses.You opened it, didn't you?You latched the latch completely.I believe Mr. de Winter likes her best in silver and white, though of course she will look good in anything and in any colour.She is very elegant in this velvet gown.Try it on your face, it's soft, isn't it?You can't help but feel it!The warmth is still there, right?You almost feel like she just took it off her body.I can always recognize any room she has been in at once.A few wisps of her fragrance will remain in the room.This drawer contains her underwear.She has never worn this pink underwear.When she died, she was wearing slacks and a shirt, of course, but it was washed away by the sea.When her body was found weeks later, there was nothing left on her. " Her fingers gripped my arm tighter.She bent over, bringing her skeletal face close to mine.Black eyes stared fixedly into my eyes. "You know what, she's ripped apart on the reef," she whispered. "Her pretty face was beyond recognition, and her arms were gone. Mr. de Winter recognized her, and went up to Edgecombe himself to claim the body, alone. He was very ill at the time, But he insisted on going. Nobody could stop him, not even Mr. Crawley." She paused for a moment, but never took her eyes off my face. "I'll never forgive myself for this accident," she said. "It's all my absence that night. I went to Chris in the afternoon, and lingered there; Mrs. de Winter went to London, and won't be back till late at night. So I was in no hurry to come back. Etc. I got back to the manor at half-past nine, and I heard that she came back before seven, had dinner, and went out again. To the beach, of course. She wouldn't go out when she was at home. She always listened to me. 'I wouldn't be happy to go out to-night, it's not a good time to go out in this weather!' I would tell her; and she, would answer me and say, 'Well, Danny, you fussy old lady.' So, needless to say, we'll sit here and talk, and she'll tell me what she's seen in London, as she always does. What you hear, tell me everything." My arm was red and purple from her fingers, completely numb.I saw how taut the skin on her face was, her cheekbones were prominently protruding, and there were a few small yellow spots under her ears. "Mr. de Winter was having dinner at Mr. Crawley's," she went on. "I don't know when he came back. I daresay it was after eleven o'clock was struck. About midnight there was a strong wind outside the house, and it picked up, but she didn't come back. I went downstairs, and the library There was no light coming from under the door frame. I went back upstairs and knocked on the door of the dressing room. Mr. De Winter responded immediately: "Who is it?What's up? ’ I said to him that I was concerned why Mrs de Winter hadn’t come back at this time.After waiting for a while, he opened the door, wearing a dressing gown. 'I think she's staying overnight in the hut over there,' he said. 'If I change you, just go to sleep on your own.In the weather like this, she would not come back here to sleep. 'He looked tired, and I couldn't bear to disturb him any more.After all, she had spent the night in cabins many times before, and had sailed out to sea in all weathers.Perhaps she hadn't gone for a ride that night, but had just come back from London and wanted to refresh herself by spending the night at the cottage.I said good night to Mr. de Winter and went back to my room.But I did not fall asleep.I kept muttering to myself, what on earth did she do? " She paused again.I don't want to hear any more.I wanted to pull away from her, to escape the room. "I sat on the bed with my clothes on until 5:30 in the morning," she said. "I couldn't wait any longer. I got up, put on my coat, walked through the woods, and headed straight for the beach. It was dawn, the wind stopped, but it was still drizzling. I came to the beach and saw the pontoons and The raft, but there is no sign of the boat..." I seemed to see the small bay immersed in the gray morning light, and even felt the drizzle falling on my cheek; through the mist, I seem to make out the vague outlines of the buoys clinging to the water. Mrs. Danvers let go of my arm, took her hand back, and dropped it to her side.When she spoke at this moment, she lost the vivid expressive force just now, and returned to the blunt and rigid tone of the past. "There was a lifebuoy washed up on Chris that afternoon," she said. "The next day, some crabbers found another one among the reefs near the headland, and scattered fragments of rigging also drifted in with the tide." She turned around, closed the drawer, and put a piece of paper on the wall. He straightened the painting, and picked up a ball of fluff from the carpet.I stood by and watched her in bewilderment. "Why Mr. de Winter doesn't use these rooms anymore," she said, "you understand now, listen to the sound of the sea." Even through the shuttered windows and shutters I could still hear the roar of the sea, the low, mournful crash of waves in the bay breaking against the pebbles on the shore.At this moment, the turbulent tide may be rushing in, throwing itself on the beach, almost reaching the small stone house. "He hasn't used the rooms since the night she drowned," she said. "He had his things taken out of the dressing-room. We got him a room at the end of the corridor. Actually, I don't think he even slept there very often. He used to sit in that armchair for the night." In the morning, the chairs were always covered with soot. During the day, Frith heard him pacing up and down the library. Up and down, up and down." I also vaguely saw the soot on the floor beside the chair, and heard his footsteps, duk, duk, duk, duk, pacing up and down in the library... Mrs. Danvers gently walked between the bedroom and the front room I opened the door, which separated us from the bedroom, and then turned off the lights.I can no longer see the bed, nor the pajama bag on the pillow, nor the dresser, nor the slippers under the armchair.She went to the front door, put her hand on the doorknob, and stood there waiting for me. “Every day I come here myself to dust myself off,” she said. "If you ever want to come here again, just let me know. Hang up on the intercom and I'll see. I won't let the handmaids come here. No one will come here but me." She put on a flattering air again, and she was unbearably hot.She was smiling all over her face, which was obviously fake and artificial. "Sometimes Mr. de Winter is not at home, and you feel deserted, and you may want to look at this room, come up here and sit. Just order then. These are really excellent rooms. They are well kept." So comfortable, you won’t think she’s been away from us for a long time, right? You’ll think she’s just gone for a while and will come back at night.” I forced a smile and couldn't speak, feeling my throat was dry, as if being stuck. "It's not just this room," she said. "I feel her presence everywhere in the many rooms of the house, in the morning room, in the hall, even in the little conservatory. Do you feel the same way?" She looked at me with weird eyes, and suddenly lowered her voice, as if whispering to me. "Sometimes I walk down this aisle, and it seems she's right behind me, and I can hear her quick, brisk footsteps. That's the kind of sound I'd never mess with. In the evenings of old, I I often see her in the gallery above the foyer, leaning on the railing, looking at the rain, calling to the dogs. I still sometimes think she is there. I seem to hear her dress dragging when she comes downstairs to eat. The crackling sound on the stairs." She stopped talking and stared at me intently, staring into my eyes. "Tell me, did she see us talking face to face here?" She said slowly. "Tell me, will the ghosts of the dead come back to watch us the living?" I swallowed hard and clenched my hands, nails digging into the flesh. "I don't know," I said. "I don't know." My voice sounded harsh and unnatural, not my own at all. "Sometimes I doubt it," she whispered softly. "Sometimes I wonder if she has quietly returned to Manderley, watching every move of you and Mr. de Winter!" We stood by the door, staring at each other.I couldn't take my eyes off her eyes.The pair of eyeballs were embedded in the pale skull face, which looked extraordinarily sinister, vicious, and full of hatred.Then she opened the door to the hallway. "Robert is back now," she said. "Come back a quarter of an hour ago. He has been ordered to take the tea to the chestnut tree in the garden." She stepped aside and let me walk over.I stumbled out of the room and into the hall, not caring where I was going.I didn't say anything more to her, and walked down the stairs in a daze, turned a corner, opened the door leading to the east wing, and entered my own room.I shut the door, locked it, and put the key in my pocket. Then I lay on the bed and closed my eyes.I felt like I was seriously ill.