Read Online Haunted Castles by Ray Russell - Free Book Online

punishment.”
    â€œThis is monstrous!” I cried. “It cannot be tolerated. But in what manner, pray, would he dare punish you? Surely he would not beat you?”
    â€œI wish he would be content with a mere beating,” she groaned, “but his cleverness knows a keener torture. No, he holds over me—and over you, through me—a punishment far greater; a punishment (believe me!) so loathsome to the sensibilities, so unequivocably vile and degraded, that my mind shrinks from contemplating it. Spare me your further questions, sir, I implore you; for to describe it would plunge me into an abyss of humiliation and shame!”
    She broke into sobbing, and tears coursed down her cheeks. No longer able to restrain my tender feelings for her, I flew to her side and took her hands in mine. “Maude,” I said, “may I call you that? In the past I addressed you only as Miss Randall; at present I may only call you Madam Sardonicus; but in my heart—then as now—you are, you always have been, you always will be, simply Maude, my own dear Maude!”
    â€œRobert,” she sighed; “dearest Robert. I have yearned to hear my Christian name from your lips all these long years.”
    â€œThe warmth we feel,” I said, “may never, with honour, reach fulfillment. But—trust me, dearest Maude!—I will in some wise deliver you from the tyranny of that creature: this I vow!”
    â€œI have no hope,” she said, “save in you. Whether I go on as I am, or am subjected to an unspeakable horror, rests with you. My fate is in your hands—these strong, healing hands, Robert.” Her voice dropped to a whisper: “Fail me not! oh fail me not!”
    â€œGovern your fears,” I said. “Return to your music. Be of good spirits; or, if you cannot, make a show of it. I go now to treat your husband, and also to confront him with what you have told me.”
    â€œDo not!” she cried. “Do not, I beseech you, Robert; lest, in the event of your failure, he devise foul embellishments upon the agonies into which he will cast me!”
    â€œVery well,” I said, “I will not speak of this to him. But my heart aches to learn the nature of the torments you fear.”
    â€œAsk no more, Robert,” she said, turning away. “Go to my husband. Cure him. Then I will no longer fear those torments.”
    I pressed her dear hand and left the salon.
    Sardonicus awaited me in his chambers. Thither, quantities of hot water and stacks of towels had been brought by the servants, upon my orders. Sardonicus was stripped to the waist, displaying a trunk strong and of good musculature, but with the same near-phosphorescent pallor of his face. It was, I now understood, the pallor of one who has avoided daylight for years. “As you see, sir,” he greeted me, “I am ready for your ministrations.”
    I bade him recline upon his couch, and began the treatment.
    Never have I worked so long with so little reward. After alternating applications of heat and of massage, over a period of three and a quarter hours, I had made no progress. The muscles of his face were still as stiff as marble; they had not relaxed for an instant. I was mortally tired. He ordered our luncheon brought to us in his chambers, and after a short respite, I began again. The clock tolled six when I at last sank into a chair, shaking with exhaustion and strain. His face was exactly as before.
    â€œWhat remains to be done, sir?” he asked me.
    â€œI will not deceive you,” I said. “It is beyond my skill to alleviate your condition. I can do no more.”
    He rose swiftly from the couch. “You
must
do more!” he shrieked. “You are my last hope!”
    â€œSir,” I said, “new medical discoveries are ever being made. Place your trust in Him who created you—”
    â€œCease that detestable gibberish at once!” he snapped.