'Fancy! Do I fancy that I killed him? Do I fancy that as I left the
chamber where he lay, I saw the face of a man peeping from a dark door,
who plainly showed me by his fearful looks that he suspected what I
had done? Do I remember that I spoke fairly to him--that I drew
nearer--nearer yet--with the hot knife in my sleeve? Do I fancy how HE
died? Did he stagger back into the angle of the wall into which I had
hemmed him, and, bleeding inwardly, stand, not fail, a corpse before
me? Did I see him, for an instant, as I see you now, erect and on his
feet--but dead!'
The blind man, who knew that he had risen, motioned him to sit down
again upon his bedstead; but he took no notice of the gesture.
'It was then I thought, for the first time, of fastening the murder upon
him. It was then I dressed him in my clothes, and dragged him down
the back-stairs to the piece of water. Do I remember listening to the
bubbles that came rising up when I had rolled him in? Do I remember
wiping the water from my face, and because the body splashed it there,
in its descent, feeling as if it MUST be blood?
'Did I go home when I had done? And oh, my God! how long it took to do!
Did I stand before my wife, and tell her? Did I see her fall upon the
ground; and, when I stooped to raise her, did she thrust me back with a
force that cast me off as if I had been a child, staining the hand with
which she clasped my wrist? Is THAT fancy?
'Did she go down upon her knees, and call on Heaven to witness that she
and her unborn child renounced me from that hour; and did she, in words
so solemn that they turned me cold--me, fresh from the horrors my own
hands had made--warn me to fly while there was time; for though she
would be silent, being my wretched wife, she would not shelter me? Did I
go forth that night, abjured of God and man, and anchored deep in hell,
to wander at my cable's length about the earth, and surely be drawn down
at last?'
'Why did you return? said the blind man.
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