She had had more faith in that bold, bad, mountebank of a parson than in
Heaven itself, and she was justly punished. Having then made this trial of her sleeping state, Mr. Lupin retired
with the candle again, quite satisfied--at least one would have thought
so; and as he had talked of the amazing ease of mind he felt now that he
had, murdered his wife, it was rather surprising that he did not go to
bed and sleep serenely instead of pacing his room to and fro for more
than four hours mumbling disjointed words and sentences to himself as he
did so, for Mrs. Oakley heard him, but she did not dare to move. Suddenly he flung open the door between the two rooms, and in a
startling voice he cried--

"Fire! fire!" It was truly a wonder that upon this Mrs. Oakley did not jump up, it
sounded so very alarming; but it was not to be, and with a presence of
mind that surely was not all her own, she yet remained profoundly still. "Fool that I am," muttered Lupin, "to be continually assailed by dread
of this woman, when everything assures me that she has been in a sound
sleep caused by a powerful narcotic, during the whole night; but the
morning is now near at hand, and she will soon awaken. I have already
got what money I can, from her, and I must give her breakfast and then
send her off. It would be useless to kill her." The manner in which Lupin pronounced these last words was very alarming
for it implied rather that he was asking himself the question whether it
would be useless to kill her or not, than the expression of a decided
opinion; but still Mrs. Oakley moved not. Lupin, suddenly, as though he had quite made up his mind not to trouble
himself about her any more, slammed to the door of communication between
the two rooms. Mrs. Oakley breathed freely again--that is, comparatively freely; and
yet what a shocking agonizing idea it was that she might have to
breakfast with that dreadful man. What should she say to him?--how
should she look at him? The dawn was coming, and she shook with apprehension to find that such
was the fact, and Lupin had said that she would soon awaken; so, effect
to awaken she must, in order to keep up the delusion; but how should she
manage then to deceive the suspicious vigilance of such a man? But all this had to be encountered. How was it to be avoided? She could
do nothing but arm herself with such fortitude as she could call to her
aid. Oh, how she wished herself in her own parlour behind the shop, and upon
her knees asking the pardon of her husband for all that she had done,
and for all that she had not done! What would she have not given even to
have seen the honest face of big Ben, the beef-eater! The light of the coming day grew each moment stronger, and at length
Mrs. Oakley thought it would be prudent to seem to wake up, and calling
out "Mr. Lupin! Mr. Lupin!" she rose from the couch. Lupin opened the door of communication between the two rooms, and glared
at her. "Did you call, sister Oakley?" "Yes, reverend sir, surely I have been sleeping, and have forgotten some
of the prayers." "No; truly, sister Oakley, I have watched for you, and I can assure you
that you will enter into the kingdom always, provided that you are
regular in your contributions to the chapel, for at the last that of a
surety will be demanded to be known of you, sister Oakley." "I have been thinking of that, brother Lupin," said Mrs. Oakley, "and
this day week I will manage to bring two pounds." "Only two?" "I will make it three, if I can, brother Oakley; but my head feels quite
confused and giddy. It is very strange." "Ah," whispered Lupin to himself. "That is the natural effect of the
narcotic. It has worked well. Then," he said aloud, "sister Oakley, I
pray you to walk in to this room, and I will provide for you what the
profane world call the breakfast, for although food for the soul is in
alway preferable to food for the body, yet we must not always neglect
our earthly tabernacle." "I am much obliged to you," said Mrs. Oakley. "You may depend upon my
regular offerings to the chapel." CHAPTER CVII. MRS. OAKLEY DISSEMBLES. With trembling steps, Mrs. Oakley followed Lupin, the murderer, into his
own room. Of course she was resolved to see nothing, and to make no
remark that could in any way direct the attention of Lupin more closely
to her, and, oh, how she panted for some opportunity of rushing into the
street and crying aloud to the passers by, that the pious hypocrite was
a murderer. But as yet she felt that her life depended upon the manner
in which she played her part. "Truly, sister Oakley," said Lupin, "I hope you passed a quiet and
peaceful night. Amen!" "Very," replied Mrs. Oakley. "Ah, I wish I could say as much, sister Oakley." "And can you not?" "Alas! no, I had some dreams--some very bad dreams; but Satan always
will be doing something, you know, sister. Do you know I dreamt of a
murder!" As he uttered these words, no Grand Inquisitor could have looked more
keenly into the eyes of a victim, than did Mr. Lupin into the face of
Mrs. Oakley; but she divined his motive, she felt that he was trying
her, but she had even in such a moment sufficient presence of mind to
keep her eyes steadily upon his face, and to say with seeming unconcern,

"Murder, did you say, Mr. Lupin?" "Yes, I did say murder, and you--." He pointed at her with his finger,
but finding that she only looked surprised, rather, he added--"and you
are one of the elect, I rejoice to say, sister Oakley. Amen! It is a
capital thing to be saved!" "It is, indeed, Mr. Lupin." "Well--well. Let us have the carnal meal, called breakfast. I will
proceed, God willing, to the corner of the court, and purchase two eggs,
Mrs. Oakley, if it be pleasing to you." "Anything you like, Mr. Lupin; I have but a poor appetite in the
morning, always." Mr. Lupin put on his hat, and after slowly turning round and casting an
anxious glance upon the room and every object within, to assure himself
that he had left no evidences of his crime behind him, he slowly left to
get the eggs. Mrs. Oakley heard him descend the stairs, and she heard the door close
behind him. Then she asked herself if that were really and truly an
opportunity of escape that she dared attempt to avail herself of, or if
it were only one in seeming, and that if she were upon its provocation
to attempt to leave the place, she would only be confirming the slight
suspicions that might be in the mind of Lupin, concerning her privity to
his deed of blood. He had talked of only going to the corner of the court, and how did she
know that he had even gone so far? Might not the message about the eggs
be merely a pretended one, to see what she would do? This was a
consideration that kept her, tremblingly, where she was. About five minutes elapsed, and then she heard a knock at the door
below. Who could that be? Mr. Lupin had a key with which he always let
himself in, so it could not be he. What was she to think? what was she
to do?