The Mysterious Mr. Quin

"You are wrong," she said. "There is something more terrible. And that is for a young wife to stand there and hope and long for her husband to drown..."

"But good God," cried Mr. Satterthwaite, "you don't mean------?"

"Yes, I do. That's what it was really. I knelt there-- knelt down on the cliff and prayed. The Spanish servants thought I was praying for his life to be saved. I wasn't I was praying that I might wish him to be spared. I was saying one thing over and over again, "God, help me not to wish him dead. God, help me not to wish him dead." But it wasn't any good. All the time I hoped--hoped--and my hope came true."

She was silent for a minute or two and then she said very gently in quite a different voice--

"That is a terrible thing, isn't it? It's the sort of thing one can't forget. I was terribly happy when I knew he was really dead and couldn't come back to torture me any more."

"My child," said Mr. Satterthwaite, shocked.

"I know. I was too young to have that happen to me. Those things should happen to one when one is older--when one is more prepared for--for beastliness. Nobody knew, you know, what he was really like. I thought he was wonderful when I first met him and was so happy and proud when he asked me to marry him. But things went wrong almost at once. He was angry with me--nothing I could do pleased him--and yet I tried so hard. And then he began to like hurting me. And above all to terrify me. That's what he enjoyed most. He thought out all sorts of things... dreadful things. I won't tell you. I suppose, really, he must have been a little mad. I was alone here, in his power, and cruelty began to be his hobby. "her eyes widened and darkened. "The worst was my baby. I was going to have a baby. Because of some of the things he did to me--it was born dead. My little baby. I nearly died, too--but I didn't I wish I had."

Mr. Satterthwaite made an inarticulate sound.

"And then I was delivered--in the way I've told you. Some girls who were staying at the hotel dared him. That's how it happened. All the Spaniards told him it was madness to risk the sea just there. But he was very vain--he wanted to show off. And I--I saw him drown--and was glad. God oughtn't to let such things happen."

Mr. Satterthwaite stretched out his little dry hand and took hers. She squeezed it hard as a child might have done. The maturity had fallen away from her face. He saw her without difficulty as she had been at nineteen.

"At first it seemed too good to be true. The house was mine and I could live in it. And no one could hurt me any more! I was an orphan, you know, I had no near relations, no one to care what became of me. That simplified things. I lived on here--in this villa--and it seemed like Heaven. Yes, like Heaven. I've never been so happy since, and never shall again. Just to wake up and know that everything was all right--no pain, no terror, no wondering what he was going to do to me next. Yes, it was Heaven."

She paused a long time, and Mr. Satterthwaite said at last--

"And then?"

"I suppose human beings aren't ever satisfied. At first, just being free was enough. But after a while I began to get

--well, lonely, I suppose. I began to think about my baby that died. If only I had had my baby! I wanted it as a baby, and also as a plaything. I wanted dreadfully something or someone to play with. It sounds silly and childish, but there it was."

"I understand," said Mr. Satterthwaite gravely.

"It's difficult to explain the next bit. It just--well, happened, you see. There was a young Englishman staying at the hotel. He strayed in the garden by mistake. I was wearing Spanish dress and he took me for a Spanish girl. I thought it would be rather fun to pretend I was one, so I played up. His Spanish was very bad but he could just manage a little. I told him the villa belonged to an English lady who was away. I said she had taught me a little English and I pretended to speak broken English. It was such fun--such fun--even now I can remember what fun it was. He began to make love to me. We agreed to pretend that the villa was our home, that we were just married and coming to live there. I suggested that we should try one of the shutters--the one you tried this evening. It was open and inside the room was dusty and uncared for. We crept in. It was exciting and wonderful. We pretended it was our own house."

She broke off suddenly, looked appealingly at Mr. Satterthwaite.

"It all seemed lovely--like a fairy tale. And the lovely thing about it, to me, was that it wasn't true. It wasn't real"

Mr. Satterthwaite nodded. He saw her, perhaps more clearly than she saw herself--that frightened, lonely child entranced with her make believe that was so safe because it wasn't real.

"He was, I suppose, a very ordinary young man. Out for adventure, but quite sweet about it. We went on pretending."

She stopped, looked at Mr. Satterthwaite and said again.

"You understand? We went on pretending..."

She went on again in a minute.