her　hand？
  She　stole　to　the　door　of　Number　Three　and　listened。　The　slow；
  regular　breathing　of　a　sleeping　man　was　just　audible。　After
  waiting　a　moment　to　let　the　feeling　of　relief　quiet　her；　she　took
  a　step　toward　Number　Four；　and　checked　herself。　It　was　needless
  to　listen　at　_that_　door。　The　doctor　had　told　her　that　Sleep　came
  first；　as　certainly　as　Death　afterward；　in　the　poisoned　air。　She
  looked　aside　at　the　clock。　The　time　had　come　for　the　fourth
  Pouring。
  Her　hand　began　to　tremble　violently　as　she　fed　the　funnel　for　the
  fourth　time。　The　fear　of　her　husband　was　back　again　in　her　heart。
  What　if　some　noise　disturbed　him　before　the　sixth　Pouring？　What
  if　he　woke　on　a　sudden　（as　she　had　often　seen　him　wake）　without
  any　noise　at　all？　She　looked　up　and　down　the　corridor。　The　end
  room；　in　which　Mr。　Bashwood　had　been　concealed；　offered　itself　to
  her　as　a　place　of　refuge。　〃I　might　go　in　there！〃　she　thought。
  〃Has　he　left　the　key？〃　She　opened　the　door　to　look；　and　saw　the
  handkerchief　thrown　down　on　the　floor。　Was　it　Mr。　Bashwood's
  handkerchief；　left　there　by　accident？　She　examined　it　at　the
  corners。　In　the　second　corner　she　found　her　husband's　name！
  Her　first　impulse　hurried　her　to　the　staircase　door；　to　rouse　the
  steward　and　insist　on　an　explanation。　The　next　moment　she
  remembered　the　Purple　Flask；　and　the　danger　of　leaving　the
  corridor。　She　turned；　and　looked　at　the　door　of　Number　Three。　Her
  husband；　on　the　evidence　of　the　handkerchief；　had　unquestionably
  been　out　of　his　roomand　Mr。　Bashwood　had　not　told　her。　Was　he
  in　his　room　now？　In　the　violence　of　her　agitation；　as　the
  question　passed　through　her　mind；　she　forgot　the　discovery　which
  she　had　herself　made　not　a　minute　before。　Again　she　listened　at
  the　door；　again　she　heard　the　slow；
  regular　breathing　of　the　sleeping　man。　The　first　time　the
  evidence　of　her　ears　had　been　enough　to　quiet　her；　_this_　time；
  in　the　tenfold　aggravation　of　her　suspicion　and　her　alarm；　she
  was　determined　to　have　the　evidence　of　her　eyes　as　well。　〃All　the
  doors　open　softly　in　this　house；〃　she　said　to　herself；　〃there's
  no　fear　of　my　waking　him。〃　Noiselessly；　by　an　inch　at　a　time；　she
  opened　the　unlocked　door；　and　looked　in　the　moment　the　aperture
  was　wide　enough。　In　the　little　light　she　had　let　into　the　room；
  the　sleeper's　head　was　just　visible　on　the　pillow。　Was　it　quite
  as　dark　against　the　white　pillow　as　her　husband's　head　looked
  when　he　was　in　bed？　Was　the　breathing　as　light　as　her　husband's
  breathing　when　he　was　asleep？
  She　opened　the　door　more　widely；　and　looked　in　by　the　clearer
  light。
  There　lay　the　man　whose　life　she　had　attempted　for　the　third
  time；　peacefully　sleeping　in　the　room　that　had　been　given　to　her
  husband；　and　in　the　air　that　could　harm　nobody！
  The　inevitable　conclusion　overwhelmed　her　on　the　instant。　With　a
  frantic　upward　action　of　her　hands　she　staggered　back　into　the
  passage。　The　door　of　Allan's　room　fell　to；　but　not　noisily　enough
  to　wake　him。　She　turned　as　she　heard　it　close。　For　one　moment　she
  stood　staring　at　it　like　a　woman　stupefied。　The　next；　her
  instinct　rushed　into　action；　before　her　reason　recovered　itself。
  In　two　steps　she　was　at　the　door　of　Number　Four。
  The　door　was　locked。
  She　felt　over　the　wall　with　both　hands；　wildly　and　clumsily；　for
  the　button　which　she　had　seen　the　doctor　press　when　he　was
  showing　the　room　to　the　visitors。　Twice　she　missed　it。　The　third
  time　her　eyes　helped　her　hands；　she　found　the　button　and　pressed
  on　it。　The　mortise　of　the　lock　inside　fell　back；　and　the　door
  yielded　to　her。
  Without　an　instant's　hesitation　she　entered　the　room。　Though　the
  door　was　openthough　so　short　a　time　had　elapsed　since　the
  fourth　Pouring　that　but　little　more　than　half　the　contemplated
  volume　of　gas　had　been　produced　as　yetthe　poisoned　air　seized
  her；　like　the　grasp　of　a　hand　at　her　throat；　like　the　twisting　of
  a　wire　round　her　head。　She　found　him　on　the　floor　at　the　foot　of
  the　bed：　his　head　and　one　arm　were　toward　the　door；　as　if　he　had
  risen　under　the　first　feeling　of　drowsiness；　and　had　sunk　in　the
  effort　to　leave　the　room。　With　the　desperate　concentration　of
  strength　of　which　women　are　capable　in　emergencies；　she　lifted
  him　and　dragged　him　out　into　the　corridor。　Her　brain　reeled　as
  she　laid　him　down；　and　crawled　back　on　her　knees　to　the　room　to
  shut　out　the　poisoned　air　from　pursuing　them　into　the　passage。
  After　closing　the　door；　she　waited；　without　daring　to　look　at　him
  the　while；　for　strength　enough　to　rise　and　get　to　the　window　over
  the　stairs。　When　the　window　was　opened；　when　the　keen　air　of　the
  early　winter　morning　blew　steadily　in；　she　ventured　back　to　him
  and　raised　his　head；　and　looked　for　the　first　time　closely　at　his
  face。
  Was　it　death　that　spread　the　livid　pallor　over　his　forehead　and
  his　cheeks；　and　the　dull　leaden　hue　on　his　eyelids　and　his　lips？
  She　loosened　his　cravat　and　opened　his　waistcoat；　and　bared　his
  throat　and　breast　to　the　air。　With　her　hand　on　his　heart；　with
  her　bosom　supporting　his　head；　so　that　he　fronted　the　window；　she
  waited　the　event。　A　time　passed：　a　time　short　enough　to　be
  reckoned　by　minutes　on　the　clock；　and　yet　long　enough　to　take　her
  memory　back　over　all　her　married　life　with　himlong　enough　to
  mature　the　resolution　that　now　rose　in　her　mind　as　the　one　result
  that　could　come　of　the　retrospect。　As　her　eyes　rested　on　him；　a
  strange　composure　settled　slowly　on　her　face。　She　bore　the　look
  of　a　woman　who　was　equally　resigned　to　welcome　the　chance　of　his
  recovery；　or　to　accept　the　certainty　of　his　death。
  Not　a　cry　or　a　tear　had　escaped　her　yet。　Not　a　cry　or　a　tear
  escaped　her　when　the　interval　had　passed；　and　she　felt　the　first
  faint　fluttering　of　his　heart；　and　heard　the　first　faint　catching
  of　the　breath　of　his　lips。　She　silently　bent　over　him　and　kissed
  his　forehead。　When　she　looked　up　again；　the　hard　despair　had
  melted　from　her　face。　There　was　something　softly　radiant　in　her
  eyes；　which　lit　her　whole　countenance　as　with　an　inner　light；　and
  made　her　womanly　and　lovely　once　more。
  She　laid　him　down；　and；　taking　off　her　shawl；　made　a　pillow　of　it
  to　support　his　head。　〃It　might　have　been　hard；　love；〃　she　said；
  as　she　felt　the　faint　pulsation　strengthening　at　his　heart。　〃You
  have　made　it　easy　now。〃
  She　rose；　and；　turning　from　him；　noticed　the　Purple　Flask　in　the
  place　where　she　had　left　it　since　the　fourth　Pouring。　〃Ah；〃　she
  thought；　quietly；　〃I　had　forgotten　my　best　friendI　had
  forgotten　that　there　is　more　to　pour　in　yet。〃
  With　a　steady　hand；　with　a　calm；　attentive　face；　she　fed　the
  funnel　for　the　fifth　time。　〃Five　minutes　more；〃　she　said；　when
  she　had　put　the　Flask　back；　after　a　look　at　the　clock。
  She　fell　into　thoughtthought　that　only　deepened　the　grave　and
  gentle　composure　of　her　face。　〃Shall　I　write　him　a　farewell
  word？〃　she　asked　herself。　〃Shall　I　tell　him　the　truth　before　I
  leave　him　forever？〃
  Her　little　gold　pencil…case　hung　with　the　other　toys　at　her
  watch…chain。　After　looking　about　her　for　a　moment；　she　knelt　over
  her　husband　and　put　her　hand　into　the　breast…pocket　of　his　coat。
  His　pocket…book　was　there。　Some　papers　fell　from　it　as　she
  unfastened　the　clasp。　One　of　them　was　the　letter　which　had　come
  to　him　from　Mr。　Brock's　death…bed。　She　turned　over　the　two　sheets
  of　note…paper　on　which　the　rector　had　written　the　words　that　had
  now　come　true；　and　found　the　last　page　of　the　last　sheet　a　blank。
  On　that　page　she　wrote　her　farewell　words；　kneeling　at　her
  husband's　side。
  〃I　am　worse　than　the　worst　you　can　think　of　me。　You　have　saved
  Armadale　by　changing　rooms　with　him　to…night；　and　you　have　saved
  him　from　Me。　You　can　guess　now　whose　widow　I　should　have　claimed
  to　be；　if　you　had　not　preserved　his　life；　and　you　will　know　what
  a　wretch　you　married　when　you　married　the　woman　who　writes　these
  lines。　Still；　I　had　some　innocent　moments；　and　then　I　loved　you
  dearly。　Forget　me；　my　darling；　in　the　love　of　a　better　woman　than
  I　am。　I　might；　perhaps；　have　been　that　better　woman　myself；　if　I
  had　not　lived　a　miserable　life　before　you　met　with　me。　It　matters
  little　now。　The　one　atonement　I　can　make　for　all　the　wrong　I　have
  done　you　is　the　atonement　of　my　death。　It　is　not　hard　for　me　to
  die；　now　I　know　you　will　live。　Even　my　wickedness　has　one
  meritit　has　not　prospered。　I　have　never　been　a　happy　woman。〃
  She　folded　the　letter　again；　and　put　it　into　his　hand；　to　attract
  his　attention　in　that　way　when　he　came　to　himself。　As　she　gently
  closed　his　fingers　on　the　paper　and　looked　up；　the　last　minute　of
  the　last　interval　faced　her；　recorded　on　the　clock。
  She　bent　over　him；　and　gave　him　her　farewell　kiss。
  〃Live；　my　angel；　live！〃　she　murmured；　tenderly；　with　her　lips
  just　touching　his。　〃All　your　life　is　before　youa　happy　life；
  and　an　honored　life；　if　you　are　freed　from　_me！_〃
  With　a　last；　lingering　tenderness；　she　parted　the　hair　back　from
  his　forehead。　〃It　is　no　merit　to　have　loved　you；〃　she　said。　〃You
  are　one　of　the　men　whom　women　all　like。〃　She　sighed　and　left　him。
  It　was　her　last　weakness。　She　bent　her　head　affirmatively　to　the
  clock；　as　if　it　had　been　a　living　creature　speaking　to　her；　and
  fed　the　funnel　for　the　last　time；　to　the　last　drop　left　in　the
  Flask。
  The　waning　m