remarked on his ill-looks, it was with an air of great firmness that Lanyon
declared himself a doomed man. 'I have had a shock,' he said, 'and I shall never recover. It is a question of
weeks. Well, life has been pleasant; I liked it; yes, sir, I used to like it. I
sometimes think if we knew all, we should be more glad to get away.'
'Jekyll is ill, too,' observed Utterson. 'Have you seen him?' But Lanyon's face changed, and he held up a trembling hand. 'I wish to see
or hear no more of Dr. Jekyll,' he said in a loud, unsteady voice. 'I am quite
done with that person; and I beg that you will spare me any allusion to one
whom I regard as dead.'
'Tut-tut,' said Mr. Utterson; and then after a considerable pause, 'Can't I
do anything?' he inquired. 'We are three very old friends, Lanyon; we shall
not live to make others.'
'Nothing can be done,' returned Lanyon; 'ask himself.'
'He will not see me,' said the lawyer.
'I am not surprised at that,' was the reply. 'Some day, Utterson, after I am
dead, you may perhaps come to learn the right and wrong of this. I cannot tell
you. And in the meantime, if you can sit and talk with me of other things, for
God's sake, stay and do so; but if you cannot keep clear of this accursed topic,
then, in God's name, go, for I cannot bear it.'
As soon as he got home, Utterson sat down and wrote to Jekyll, complaining
of his exclusion from the house, and asking the cause of this unhappy break
with Lanyon; and the next day brought him a long answer, often very pathet
ically worded, and sometimes darkly mysterious in drift. The quarrel with Lan
yon was incurable. 'I do not blame our old friend,' Jekyll wrote, 'but I share
his view that we must never meet. I mean from henceforth to lead a life of
extreme seclusion; you must not be surprised, nor must you doubt my friend
ship, if my door is often shut even to you. You must suffer me to go my own
dark way. I have brought on myself a punishment and a danger that I cannot
name. If I am the chief of sinners, I am the chief of sufferers also. I could not
.
1662 / ROBERT Louis STEVENSON
think that this earth contained a place for sufferings and terrors so unmanning;
and you can do but one thing, Utterson, to lighten this destiny, and that is to
respect my silence.' Utterson was amazed; the dark influence of Hyde had
been withdrawn, the doctor had returned to his old tasks and amities; a week
ago, the prospect had smiled with every promise of a cheerful and an honoured
age; and now in a moment, friendship, and peace of mind, and the whole tenor
of his life were wrecked. So great and unprepared a change pointed to mad
ness; but in view of Lanyon's manner and words, there must lie for it some deeper ground.
A week afterwards Dr. Lanyon took to his bed, and in something less than a fortnight he was dead. The night after the funeral, at which he had been sadly affected, Utterson locked the door of his business room, and sitting there by the light of a melancholy candle, drew out and set before him an envelope addressed by the hand and sealed with the seal of his dead friend. 'PRIVATE: for the hands of G.J. Utterson ALONE, and in case of his predecease to be destroyed unread,' so it was emphatically superscribed; and the lawyer dreaded to behold the contents. 'I have buried one friend today,' he thought: 'what if this should cost me another?' And then he condemned the fear as a disloyalty, and broke the seal. Within there was another enclosure, likewise sealed, and marked upon the cover as 'not to be opened till the death or disappearance of Dr. Henry Jekyll.' Utterson could not trust his eyes. Yes, it was disappearance; here again, as in the mad will which he had long ago restored to its author, here again were the idea of a disappearance and the name of Henry Jekyll bracketted. Rut in the will, that idea had sprung from the sinister suggestion of the man Hyde; it was set there with a purpose all too plain and horrible. Written by the hand of Lanyon, what should it mean? A great curiosity came on the trustee, to disregard the prohibition and dive at once to the bottom of these mysteries; but professional honour and faith to his dead friend were stringent obligations; and the packet slept in the inmost corner of his
private safe.
It is one thing to mortify curiosity, another to conquer it; and it may be doubted if, from that day forth, Utterson desired the society of his surviving friend with the same eagerness. He thought of him kindly; but his thoughts were disquieted and fearful. He went to call indeed; but he was perhaps
