TIME ran on; thousands of pounds were offered in reward, for the\u00a0death of Sir Danvers was resented as a public injury; but Mr. Hyde\u00a0had disappeared out of the ken of the police as though he had never\u00a0existed. Much of his past was unearthed, indeed, and all\u00a0disreputable: tales came out of the man's cruelty, at once so\u00a0callous and violent; of his vile life, of his strange associates,\u00a0of the hatred that seemed to have surrounded his career; but of his\u00a0present whereabouts, not a whisper. From the time he had left the\u00a0house in Soho on the morning of the murder, he was simply blotted\u00a0out; and gradually, as time drew on, Mr. Utterson began to recover\u00a0from the hotness of his alarm, and to grow more at quiet with\u00a0himself. The death of Sir Danvers was, to his way of thinking, more\u00a0than paid for by the disappearance of Mr. Hyde. Now that that evil\u00a0influence had been withdrawn, a new life began for Dr. Jekyll. He\u00a0came out of his seclusion, renewed relations with his friends,\u00a0became once more their familiar guest\u00a0and entertainer; and whilst he had always been known for\u00a0charities, he was now no less distinguished for religion. He was\u00a0busy, he was much in the open air, he did good; his face seemed to\u00a0open and brighten, as if with an inward consciousness of service;\u00a0and for more than two months, the doctor was at peace.<\/p>\r\n
On the 8th of January Utterson had dined at the doctor's with a\u00a0small party; Lanyon had been there; and the face of the host had\u00a0looked from one to the other as in the old days when the trio were\u00a0inseparable friends. On the 12th, and again on the 14th, the door\u00a0was shut against the lawyer. \"The doctor was confined to the\u00a0house,\" Poole said, \"and saw no one.\" On the 15th, he tried again,\u00a0and was again refused; and having now been used for the last two\u00a0months to see his friend almost daily, he found this return of\u00a0solitude to weigh upon his spirits. The fifth night he had in Guest\u00a0to dine with him; and the sixth he betook himself to Dr. Lanyon's.<\/p>\r\n
There at least he was not denied admittance; but when he came in,\u00a0he was shocked at the change which had taken place in the doctor's\u00a0appearance. He had his death-warrant written legibly upon his face.\u00a0The rosy man had grown pale; his flesh had fallen away; he was\u00a0visibly balder and older; and yet it was not so much, these tokens\u00a0of a swift physical decay that arrested the lawyer's notice, as a\u00a0look in the eye and quality of manner that seemed to testify to\u00a0some deep-seated terror of the mind. It was unlikely that the\u00a0doctor should fear death; and yet that was what Utterson was\u00a0tempted to suspect. \"Yes,\" he thought; \"he is a doctor, he must\u00a0know his own state and that his days are counted; and the knowledge\u00a0is more than he can bear.\" And yet when Utterson remarked on his\u00a0ill-looks, it was with an air of greatness that Lanyon declared\u00a0himself a doomed man.<\/p>\r\n
\"I have had a shock,\" he said, \"and I shall never recover. It is a\u00a0question of weeks. Well, life has been pleasant; I liked it; yes,\u00a0sir, I used to like it. I sometimes think if we knew all, we should\u00a0be more glad to get away.\"<\/p>\r\n
\"Jekyll is ill, too,\" observed Utterson. \"Have you seen him?\"<\/p>\r\n
But Lanyon's face changed, and he held up a trembling hand. \"I wish\u00a0to see or hear no more of Dr. Jekyll,\" he said in a loud, unsteady\u00a0voice. \"I am quite done with that person; and I beg that you will\u00a0spare me any allusion to one whom I regard as dead.\"<\/p>\r\n
\"Tut-tut,\" said Mr. Utterson; and then after a considerable pause,<\/p>\r\n\"Can't I do anything?\" he inquired. \"We are three very old friends,\r\n\r\nLanyon; we shall not live to make others.\"\r\n
\"Nothing can be done,\" returned Lanyon; \"ask himself.\"<\/p>\r\n
\"He will not see me,\" said the lawyer.<\/p>\r\n
\"I am not surprised at that,\" was the reply. \"Some day, Utterson,\u00a0after I am dead, you may\u00a0perhaps come to learn the right and wrong of this. I cannot tell\u00a0you. And in the meantime, if you can sit and talk with me of other\u00a0things, for God's sake, stay and do so; but if you cannot keep clear\u00a0of this accursed topic, then, in God's name, go, for I cannot bear\u00a0it.\"<\/p>\r\n
As soon as he got home, Utterson sat down and wrote to Jekyll,\u00a0complaining of his exclusion from the house, and asking the cause\u00a0of this unhappy break with Lanyon; and the next day brought him a\u00a0long answer, often very pathetically worded, and sometimes darkly\u00a0mysterious in drift. The quarrel with Lanyon was incurable. \"I do\u00a0not blame our old friend,\" Jekyll wrote, \"but I share his view\u00a0that we must never meet. I mean from henceforth to lead a life of\u00a0extreme seclusion; you must not be surprised, nor must you doubt\u00a0my friendship, if my door is often shut even to you. You must\u00a0suffer me to go my own dark way. I have brought on myself a\u00a0punishment and a danger that I cannot name. If I am the chief of\u00a0sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also. I could not think that\u00a0this earth contained a place for sufferings and terrors so\u00a0unmanning; and you can do but one thing, Utterson, to lighten\u00a0this destiny, and that is to respect my silence.\" Utterson was\u00a0amazed; the dark influence of Hyde had been withdrawn, the doctor\u00a0had returned to his old tasks and amities; a week ago, the\u00a0prospect had smiled with every promise of a cheerful and an\u00a0honoured age;\u00a0and now in a moment, friendship, and peace of mind, and the whole\u00a0tenor of his life were wrecked. So great and unprepared a change\u00a0pointed to madness; but in view of Lanyon's manner and words,\u00a0there must lie for it some deeper ground.<\/p>\r\n
A week afterwards Dr. Lanyon took to his bed, and in something\u00a0less than a fortnight he was dead. The night after the funeral,\u00a0at which he had been sadly affected, Utterson locked the door of\u00a0his business room, and sitting there by the light of a melancholy\u00a0candle, drew out and set before him an envelope addressed by the\u00a0hand and sealed with the seal of his dead friend. \"PRIVATE: for\u00a0the hands of G. J. Utterson ALONE and in case of his predecease\u00a0to be destroyed unread,\" so it was emphatically superscribed; and\u00a0the lawyer dreaded to behold the contents. \"I have buried one\u00a0friend to-day,\" he thought: \"what if this should cost me\u00a0another?\" And then he condemned the fear as a disloyalty, and\u00a0broke the seal. Within there was another enclosure, likewise\u00a0sealed, and marked upon the cover as \"not to be opened till the\u00a0death or disappearance of Dr. Henry Jekyll.\" Utterson could not\u00a0trust his eyes. Yes, it was disappearance; here again, as in the\u00a0mad will which he had long ago restored to its author, here again\u00a0were the idea of a disappearance and the name of Henry Jekyll\u00a0bracketed. But in the will, that idea had sprung from the\u00a0sinister suggestion of\u00a0the man Hyde; it was set there with a purpose all too plain and\u00a0horrible. Written by the hand of Lanyon, what should it mean? A\u00a0great curiosity came on the trustee, to disregard the prohibition\u00a0and dive at once to the bottom of these mysteries; but\u00a0professional honour and faith to his dead friend were stringent\u00a0obligations; and the packet slept in the inmost corner of his\u00a0private safe.<\/p>\r\n
It is one thing to mortify curiosity, another to conquer it; and\u00a0it may be doubted if, from that day forth, Utterson desired the\u00a0society of his surviving friend with the same eagerness. He\u00a0thought of him kindly; but his thoughts were disquieted and\u00a0fearful. He went to call indeed; but he was perhaps relieved to\u00a0be denied admittance; perhaps, in his heart, he preferred to\u00a0speak with Poole upon the doorstep and surrounded by the air and\u00a0sounds of the open city, rather than to be admitted into that\u00a0house of voluntary bondage, and to sit and speak with its\u00a0inscrutable recluse. Poole had, indeed, no very pleasant news to\u00a0communicate. The doctor, it appeared, now more than ever confined\u00a0himself to the cabinet over the laboratory, where he would\u00a0sometimes even sleep; he was out of spirits, he had grown very\u00a0silent, he did not read; it seemed as if he had something on his\u00a0mind. Utterson became so used to the unvarying character of these\u00a0reports, that he fell off little by little in the frequency of\u00a0his visits.<\/p>","rendered":"
TIME ran on; thousands of pounds were offered in reward, for the\u00a0death of Sir Danvers was resented as a public injury; but Mr. Hyde\u00a0had disappeared out of the ken of the police as though he had never\u00a0existed. Much of his past was unearthed, indeed, and all\u00a0disreputable: tales came out of the man’s cruelty, at once so\u00a0callous and violent; of his vile life, of his strange associates,\u00a0of the hatred that seemed to have surrounded his career; but of his\u00a0present whereabouts, not a whisper. From the time he had left the\u00a0house in Soho on the morning of the murder, he was simply blotted\u00a0out; and gradually, as time drew on, Mr. Utterson began to recover\u00a0from the hotness of his alarm, and to grow more at quiet with\u00a0himself. The death of Sir Danvers was, to his way of thinking, more\u00a0than paid for by the disappearance of Mr. Hyde. Now that that evil\u00a0influence had been withdrawn, a new life began for Dr. Jekyll. He\u00a0came out of his seclusion, renewed relations with his friends,\u00a0became once more their familiar guest\u00a0and entertainer; and whilst he had always been known for\u00a0charities, he was now no less distinguished for religion. He was\u00a0busy, he was much in the open air, he did good; his face seemed to\u00a0open and brighten, as if with an inward consciousness of service;\u00a0and for more than two months, the doctor was at peace.<\/p>\n
On the 8th of January Utterson had dined at the doctor’s with a\u00a0small party; Lanyon had been there; and the face of the host had\u00a0looked from one to the other as in the old days when the trio were\u00a0inseparable friends. On the 12th, and again on the 14th, the door\u00a0was shut against the lawyer. “The doctor was confined to the\u00a0house,” Poole said, “and saw no one.” On the 15th, he tried again,\u00a0and was again refused; and having now been used for the last two\u00a0months to see his friend almost daily, he found this return of\u00a0solitude to weigh upon his spirits. The fifth night he had in Guest\u00a0to dine with him; and the sixth he betook himself to Dr. Lanyon’s.<\/p>\n
There at least he was not denied admittance; but when he came in,\u00a0he was shocked at the change which had taken place in the doctor’s\u00a0appearance. He had his death-warrant written legibly upon his face.\u00a0The rosy man had grown pale; his flesh had fallen away; he was\u00a0visibly balder and older; and yet it was not so much, these tokens\u00a0of a swift physical decay that arrested the lawyer’s notice, as a\u00a0look in the eye and quality of manner that seemed to testify to\u00a0some deep-seated terror of the mind. It was unlikely that the\u00a0doctor should fear death; and yet that was what Utterson was\u00a0tempted to suspect. “Yes,” he thought; “he is a doctor, he must\u00a0know his own state and that his days are counted; and the knowledge\u00a0is more than he can bear.” And yet when Utterson remarked on his\u00a0ill-looks, it was with an air of greatness that Lanyon declared\u00a0himself a doomed man.<\/p>\n
“I have had a shock,” he said, “and I shall never recover. It is a\u00a0question of weeks. Well, life has been pleasant; I liked it; yes,\u00a0sir, I used to like it. I sometimes think if we knew all, we should\u00a0be more glad to get away.”<\/p>\n
“Jekyll is ill, too,” observed Utterson. “Have you seen him?”<\/p>\n
But Lanyon’s face changed, and he held up a trembling hand. “I wish\u00a0to see or hear no more of Dr. Jekyll,” he said in a loud, unsteady\u00a0voice. “I am quite done with that person; and I beg that you will\u00a0spare me any allusion to one whom I regard as dead.”<\/p>\n
“Tut-tut,” said Mr. Utterson; and then after a considerable pause,<\/p>\n
“Can’t I do anything?” he inquired. “We are three very old friends,<\/p>\n
Lanyon; we shall not live to make others.”<\/p>\n
“Nothing can be done,” returned Lanyon; “ask himself.”<\/p>\n
“He will not see me,” said the lawyer.<\/p>\n
“I am not surprised at that,” was the reply. “Some day, Utterson,\u00a0after I am dead, you may\u00a0perhaps come to learn the right and wrong of this. I cannot tell\u00a0you. And in the meantime, if you can sit and talk with me of other\u00a0things, for God’s sake, stay and do so; but if you cannot keep clear\u00a0of this accursed topic, then, in God’s name, go, for I cannot bear\u00a0it.”<\/p>\n
As soon as he got home, Utterson sat down and wrote to Jekyll,\u00a0complaining of his exclusion from the house, and asking the cause\u00a0of this unhappy break with Lanyon; and the next day brought him a\u00a0long answer, often very pathetically worded, and sometimes darkly\u00a0mysterious in drift. The quarrel with Lanyon was incurable. “I do\u00a0not blame our old friend,” Jekyll wrote, “but I share his view\u00a0that we must never meet. I mean from henceforth to lead a life of\u00a0extreme seclusion; you must not be surprised, nor must you doubt\u00a0my friendship, if my door is often shut even to you. You must\u00a0suffer me to go my own dark way. I have brought on myself a\u00a0punishment and a danger that I cannot name. If I am the chief of\u00a0sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also. I could not think that\u00a0this earth contained a place for sufferings and terrors so\u00a0unmanning; and you can do but one thing, Utterson, to lighten\u00a0this destiny, and that is to respect my silence.” Utterson was\u00a0amazed; the dark influence of Hyde had been withdrawn, the doctor\u00a0had returned to his old tasks and amities; a week ago, the\u00a0prospect had smiled with every promise of a cheerful and an\u00a0honoured age;\u00a0and now in a moment, friendship, and peace of mind, and the whole\u00a0tenor of his life were wrecked. So great and unprepared a change\u00a0pointed to madness; but in view of Lanyon’s manner and words,\u00a0there must lie for it some deeper ground.<\/p>\n
A week afterwards Dr. Lanyon took to his bed, and in something\u00a0less than a fortnight he was dead. The night after the funeral,\u00a0at which he had been sadly affected, Utterson locked the door of\u00a0his business room, and sitting there by the light of a melancholy\u00a0candle, drew out and set before him an envelope addressed by the\u00a0hand and sealed with the seal of his dead friend. “PRIVATE: for\u00a0the hands of G. J. Utterson ALONE and in case of his predecease\u00a0to be destroyed unread,” so it was emphatically superscribed; and\u00a0the lawyer dreaded to behold the contents. “I have buried one\u00a0friend to-day,” he thought: “what if this should cost me\u00a0another?” And then he condemned the fear as a disloyalty, and\u00a0broke the seal. Within there was another enclosure, likewise\u00a0sealed, and marked upon the cover as “not to be opened till the\u00a0death or disappearance of Dr. Henry Jekyll.” Utterson could not\u00a0trust his eyes. Yes, it was disappearance; here again, as in the\u00a0mad will which he had long ago restored to its author, here again\u00a0were the idea of a disappearance and the name of Henry Jekyll\u00a0bracketed. But in the will, that idea had sprung from the\u00a0sinister suggestion of\u00a0the man Hyde; it was set there with a purpose all too plain and\u00a0horrible. Written by the hand of Lanyon, what should it mean? A\u00a0great curiosity came on the trustee, to disregard the prohibition\u00a0and dive at once to the bottom of these mysteries; but\u00a0professional honour and faith to his dead friend were stringent\u00a0obligations; and the packet slept in the inmost corner of his\u00a0private safe.<\/p>\n
It is one thing to mortify curiosity, another to conquer it; and\u00a0it may be doubted if, from that day forth, Utterson desired the\u00a0society of his surviving friend with the same eagerness. He\u00a0thought of him kindly; but his thoughts were disquieted and\u00a0fearful. He went to call indeed; but he was perhaps relieved to\u00a0be denied admittance; perhaps, in his heart, he preferred to\u00a0speak with Poole upon the doorstep and surrounded by the air and\u00a0sounds of the open city, rather than to be admitted into that\u00a0house of voluntary bondage, and to sit and speak with its\u00a0inscrutable recluse. Poole had, indeed, no very pleasant news to\u00a0communicate. The doctor, it appeared, now more than ever confined\u00a0himself to the cabinet over the laboratory, where he would\u00a0sometimes even sleep; he was out of spirits, he had grown very\u00a0silent, he did not read; it seemed as if he had something on his\u00a0mind. Utterson became so used to the unvarying character of these\u00a0reports, that he fell off little by little in the frequency of\u00a0his visits.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":251,"menu_order":6,"template":"","meta":{"pb_show_title":"on","pb_short_title":"","pb_subtitle":"","pb_authors":[],"pb_section_license":""},"chapter-type":[48],"contributor":[],"license":[],"class_list":["post-87","chapter","type-chapter","status-publish","hentry","chapter-type-numberless"],"part":3,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/jekyllandhyde\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/87","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/jekyllandhyde\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/jekyllandhyde\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/chapter"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/jekyllandhyde\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/251"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/jekyllandhyde\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/87\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":88,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/jekyllandhyde\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/87\/revisions\/88"}],"part":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/jekyllandhyde\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/parts\/3"}],"metadata":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/jekyllandhyde\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapters\/87\/metadata\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/jekyllandhyde\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=87"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"chapter-type","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/jekyllandhyde\/wp-json\/pressbooks\/v2\/chapter-type?post=87"},{"taxonomy":"contributor","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/jekyllandhyde\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/contributor?post=87"},{"taxonomy":"license","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pressbooks.library.torontomu.ca\/jekyllandhyde\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/license?post=87"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}