Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard
"Yes, you!" the doctor burst out, "He begged me—his enemy, as he thinks—to bring you to him at once. It seems he has something to say to you alone."
"Impossible!" murmured Mrs. Gould.
"He said to me, 'Tell her that I have done something to keep the roof over her head.' . . . Mrs. Gould," the doctor pursued, in the greatest excitement, "Do you remember the silver—the silver in the lighter—that was lost?"
Mrs. Gould remembered. But she did not say she hated the mere mention of that silver. Frankness personified, she remembered with an exaggerated horror that for the first and last time of her life she had concealed the truth from her husband about that very silver. She had been corrupted by her fears at that time, and she had never forgiven herself. Moreover, that silver, which would never have come down if her husband had been made acquainted with the news brought by Decoud, had been in a roundabout way nearly the cause of Dr. Monygham's death. And these things appeared to her very dreadful.
"Was it lost, though?" the doctor exclaimed. "I've always felt that there was a mystery about our Nostromo ever since. I do believe he wants now, at the point of death—"
"The point of death," repeated Mrs. Gould.
"Yes. Yes . . . He wants perhaps to tell you something concerning that silver which—"
"Oh, no! No!" exclaimed Mrs. Gould, in a low voice. "Isn't it lost and done with? Isn't there enough treasure without it to make everybody in the world miserable?"
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