William Wilkie Collins Fullscreen Woman in white (1860)

"I want to see it, Laura, because our endurance must end, and our resistance must begin to-day.

That mark is a weapon to strike him with.

Let me see it now—I may have to swear to it at some future time."

"Oh, Marian, don't look so—don't talk so!

It doesn't hurt me now!"

"Let me see it!"

She showed me the marks.

I was past grieving over them, past crying over them, past shuddering over them.

They say we are either better than men, or worse.

If the temptation that has fallen in some women's way, and made them worse, had fallen in mine at that moment—Thank God! my face betrayed nothing that his wife could read.

The gentle, innocent, affectionate creature thought I was frightened for her and sorry for her, and thought no more.

"Don't think too seriously of it, Marian," she said simply, as she pulled her sleeve down again. "It doesn't hurt me now."

"I will try to think quietly of it, my love, for your sake.—Well! well!

And you told him all that Anne Catherick had said to you—all that you told me?"

"Yes, all.

He insisted on it—I was alone with him—I could conceal nothing."

"Did he say anything when you had done?"

"He looked at me, and laughed to himself in a mocking, bitter way.

'I mean to have the rest out of you,' he said, 'do you hear?—the rest.'

I declared to him solemnly that I had told him everything I knew.

'Not you,' he answered, 'you know more than you choose to tell.

Won't you tell it?

You shall!

I'll wring it out of you at home if I can't wring it out of you here.'

He led me away by a strange path through the plantation—a path where there was no hope of our meeting you—and he spoke no more till we came within sight of the house.

Then he stopped again, and said,

'Will you take a second chance, if I give it to you?

Will you think better of it, and tell me the rest?'

I could only repeat the same words I had spoken before.

He cursed my obstinacy, and went on, and took me with him to the house.

'You can't deceive me,' he said, 'you know more than you choose to tell.

I'll have your secret out of you, and I'll have it out of that sister of yours as well.

There shall be no more plotting and whispering between you.

Neither you nor she shall see each other again till you have confessed the truth.

I'll have you watched morning, noon, and night, till you confess the truth.'

He was deaf to everything I could say.

He took me straight upstairs into my own room.

Fanny was sitting there, doing some work for me, and he instantly ordered her out.

'I'll take good care YOU'RE not mixed up in the conspiracy,' he said.

'You shall leave this house to-day.

If your mistress wants a maid, she shall have one of my choosing.'

He pushed me into the room, and locked the door on me.

He set that senseless woman to watch me outside, Marian!

He looked and spoke like a madman.

You may hardly understand it—he did indeed."

"I do understand it, Laura.

He is mad—mad with the terrors of a guilty conscience.

Every word you have said makes me positively certain that when Anne Catherick left you yesterday you were on the eve of discovering a secret which might have been your vile husband's ruin, and he thinks you HAVE discovered it.

Nothing you can say or do will quiet that guilty distrust, and convince his false nature of your truth.

I don't say this, my love, to alarm you. I say it to open your eyes to your position, and to convince you of the urgent necessity of letting me act, as I best can, for your protection while the chance is our own.