pony…chaise was announced at the door； and a letter was brought
in to me from Mrs。 Macallan。
〃I have no right to control your movements；〃 my mother…in…law
wrote。 〃I send the chaise to Mr。 Benjamin's house； and I
sincerely trust that you will not take your place in it。 I wish I
could persuade you； Valeria； how truly I am your friend。 I have
been thinking about you anxiously in the wakeful hours of the
night。 _How_ anxiously； you will understand when I tell you that
I now reproach myself for not having done more than I did to
prevent your unhappy marriage。 And yet； what more I could have
done I don't really know。 My son admitted to me that he was
courting you under an assumed name； but he never told me what the
name was。 Or who you were； or where your friends lived。 Perhaps I
ought to have taken measures to find this out。 Perhaps； if I had
succeeded； I ought to have interfered and enlightened you； even
at the sad sacrifice of making an enemy of my own son。 I honestly
thought I did my duty in expressing my disapproval； and in
refusing to be present at the marriage。 Was I too easily
satisfied？ It is too late to ask。 Why do I trouble you with an
old woman's vain misgivings and regrets？ My child； if you come to
any harm； I shall feel （indirectly） responsible for it。 It is
this uneasy state of mind which sets me writing； with nothing to
say that can interest you。 Don't go to Dexter！ The fear has been
pursuing me all night that your going to Dexter will end badly。
Write him an excuse。 Valeria！ I firmly believe you will repent it
if you return to that house。〃
Was ever a woman more plainly warned； more carefully advised；
than I？ And yet warning and advice were both thrown away on me。
Let me say for myself that I was really touched by the kindness
of my mother…in…law's letter； though I was not shaken by it in
the smallest degree。 As long as I lived； moved； and thought； my
one purpose now was to make Miserrimus Dexter confide to me his
ideas on the subject of Mrs。 Eustace Macallan's death。 To those
ideas I looked as my guiding stars along the dark way on which I
was going。 I wrote back to Mrs。 Macallan； as I really felt
gratefully and penitently。 And then I went out to the chaise。
CHAPTER XXVII。
MR。 DEXTER AT HOME。
I FOUND all the idle boys in the neighborhood collected around
the pony…chaise； expressing； in the occult language of slang；
their high enjoyment and appreciation at the appearance of
〃Ariel〃 in her man's jacket and hat。 The pony was fidgety_he_
felt the influence of the popular uproar。 His driver sat； whip in
hand； magnificently impenetrable to the gibes and jests that were
flying around her。 I said 〃Good…morning〃 on getting into the
chaise。 Ariel only said 〃Gee up！〃 and started the pony。
I made up my mind to perform the journey to the distant northern
suburb in silence。 It was evidently useless for me to attempt to
speak； and experience informed me that I need not expect to hear
a word fall from the lips of my companion。 Experience； however；
is not always infallible。 After driving for half an hour in
stolid silence； Ariel astounded me by suddenly bursting into
speech。
〃Do you know what we are coming to？〃 she asked； keeping her eyes
straight between the pony's ears。
〃No；〃 I answered。 〃I don't know the road。 What are we coming to？〃
〃We are coming to a canal。〃
〃Well？〃
〃Well； I have half a mind to upset you in the canal。〃
This formidable announcement appeared to require some
explanation。 I took the liberty of asking for it。
〃Why should you upset me？〃 I inquired。
〃Because I hate you；〃 was the cool and candid reply。
〃What have I done to offend you？〃 I asked next。
〃What do you want with the Master？〃 Ariel asked； in her turn。
〃Do you mean Mr。 Dexter？〃
〃Yes。〃
〃I want to have some talk with Mr。 Dexter。〃
〃You don't！ You want to take my place。 You want to brush his hair
and oil his beard； instead of me。 You wretch！〃
I now began to understand。 The idea which Miserrimus Dexter had
jestingly put into her head； in exhibiting her to us on the
previous night； had been ripening slowly in that dull brain； and
had found its way outward into words； about fifteen hours
afterward； under the irritating influence of my presence！
〃I don't want to touch his hair or his beard；〃 I said。 〃I leave
that entirely to you。〃
She looked around at me； her fat face flushing； her dull eyes
dilating； with the unaccustomed effort to express herself in
speech； and to understand what was said to her in return。
〃Say that again；〃 she burst out。 〃And say it slower this time。〃
I said it again； and I said it slower。
〃Swear it！〃 she cried； getting more and more excited。
I preserved my gravity （the canal was just visible in the
distance）； and swore it。
〃Are you satisfied now？〃 I asked。
There was no answer。 Her last resources of speech were exhausted。
The strange creature looked back again straight between the
pony's ears； emitted hoarsely a grunt of relief； and never more
looked at me； never more spoke to me； for the rest of the
journey。 We drove past the banks of the canal； and I escaped
immersion。 We rattled； in our jingling little vehicle； through
the streets and across the waste patches of ground； which I dimly
remembered in the darkness； and which looked more squalid and
more hideous than ever in the broad daylight。 The chaise tur ned
down a lane； too narrow for the passage of any larger vehicle；
and stopped at a wall and a gate that were new objects to me。
Opening the gate with her key； and leading the pony； Ariel
introduced me to the back garden and yard of Miserrimus Dexter's
rotten and rambling old house。 The pony walked off independently
to his stable； with the chaise behind him。 My silent companion
led me through a bleak and barren kitchen； and along a stone
passage。 Opening a door at the end； she admitted me to the back
of the hall； into which Mrs。 Macallan and I had penetrated by the
front entrance to the house。 Here Ariel lifted a whistle which
hung around her neck； and blew the shrill trilling notes with the
sound of which I was already familiar as the means of
communication between Miserrimus Dexter and his slave。 The
whistling over； the slave's unwilling lips struggled into speech
for the last time。
〃Wait till you hear the Master's whistle；〃 she said； 〃then go
upstairs。〃
So！ I was to be whistled for like a dog！ And； worse still； there
was no help for it but to submit like a dog。 Had Ariel any
excuses to make？ Nothing of the sort。
She turned her shapeless back on me and vanished into the kitchen
region of the house。
After waiting for a minute or two； and hearing no signal from the
floor above； I advanced into the broader and brighter part of the
hall； to look by daylight at the pictures which I had only
imperfectly discovered in the darkness of the night。 A painted
inscription in many colors； just under the cornice of the
ceiling； informed me that the works on the walls were the
production of the all…accomplished Dexter himself。 Not satisfied
with being poet and composer； he was painter as well。 On one wall
the subjects were described as 〃Illustrations of the Passions；〃
on the other； as 〃Episodes in the Life of the Wandering Jew。〃
Chance speculators like myself were gravely warned； by means of
the inscription； to view the pictures as efforts of pure
imagination。 〃Persons who look for mere Nature in works of Art〃
（the inscription announced） 〃are persons to whom Mr。 Dexter does
not address himself with the brush。 He relies entirely on his
imagination。 Nature puts him out。〃
Taking due care to dismiss all ideas of Nature from my mind； to
begin with； I looked at the pictures which represented the
Passions first。
Little as I knew critically of Art； I could see that Miserrimus
Dexter knew still less of the rules of drawing； color； and
composition。 His pictures were； in the strictest meaning of that
expressive word； Daubs。 The diseased and riotous delight of the
painter in representing Horrors was （with certain exceptions to
be hereafter mentioned） the one remarkable quality that I could
discover in the series of his works。
The first of the Passion pictures illustrated Revenge。 A corpse；
in fancy costume； lay on the bank of a foaming river； under the
shade of a giant tree。 An infuriated man； also in fancy costume；
stood astride over the dead body； with his sword lifted to the
lowering sky； and watched； with a horrid expression of delight；
the blood of the man whom he had just killed dripping slowly in a
procession of big red drops down the broad blade of his weapon。
The next picture illustrated Cruelty； in many compartments。 In
one I saw a disemboweled horse savagely spurred on by his rider
at a bull…fight。 In another； an aged philosopher was dissecting a
living cat； and gloating over his work。 In a third； two pagans
politely congratulated each other on the torture of two saints：
one saint was roasting on a grid…iron； the other； hung up to a
tree by his heels； had been just skinned； and was not quite dead
yet。 Feeling no great desire； after these specimens； to look at
any more of the illustrated Passions； I turned to the opposite
wall to be instructed in the career of the Wandering Jew。 Here a
second inscription informed me that the painter considered the
Flying Dutchman to be no other than the Wandering Jew； pursuing
his interminable Journey by sea。 The marine adventures of this
mysterious personage were the adventures chosen for
representation by Dexter's brush。 The first picture showed me a
harbor on a rocky coast。 A vessel was at anchor； with the
helmsman singing on the deck。 The sea in the offing was black and
rolling； thunder…clouds lay low on the horizon； split by broad
flashes of lightning。 In the glare of the lightning； heaving and
pitching； appeared the misty form of the Phantom Ship approaching
the shore。 In this work； badly as it was painted； there were
really signs of a powerful imagination； and even of a poetical
feeling for the supernatural。 The next picture showed the Phantom
Ship； moored （to the horror and astonishment of the helmsman）
behind the earthly vessel in the harbor。 The Jew had stepped on
shore。 His boat was