Dr. Jekyll Was Quite Relaxed

A fortnight later, by excellent good fortune, the doctor gave one of his pleasant dinners to some five or six old cronies, all intelligent, reputable men and all judges of good wine; and Mr. Utterson so contrived that he remained behind after the others had departed. This was no new arrangement, but a thing that had befallen many scores of times. Where Utterson was liked, he was liked well. Hosts loved to detain the dry lawyer, when the light-hearted and loose-tongued had already their foot on the threshold; they liked to sit a while in his unobtrusive company, practising for solitude, sobering their minds in the man’s rich silence after the expense and strain of gaiety. To this rule, Dr. Jekyll was no exception; and as he now sat on the opposite side of the fire—a large, well-made, smooth-faced man of fifty, with something of a slyish cast perhaps, but every mark of capacity and kindness—you could see by his looks that he cherished for Mr. Utterson a sincere and warm affection.

Two weeks later, by a great stroke of luck, the doctor gave one of his pleasant dinners. His guests were five or six old friends, all intelligent, respectable men and all good judges of wine. Mr. Utterson arranged to stay behind after the others had left. This was nothing new. It had happened many dozens of times before. People who liked Utterson liked him very much. Hosts loved to keep the reserved lawyer behind when their cheerful, talkative guests were already at the door. They liked to sit awhile in his quiet company, preparing themselves for being alone. After the effort and strain of merrymaking, his deep silence helped settle their minds. Dr. Jekyll was no exception. He now sat across the fire, a large, well-built man of fifty with a smooth face. There was perhaps something slightly sly in his expression, but every sign of ability and kindness. His expression made clear his warm, sincere affection for Mr. Utterson.

“I have been wanting to speak to you, Jekyll,” began the latter. “You know that will of yours?”

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Jekyll,” the other man began. “You know that will of yours?”

A close observer might have gathered that the topic was distasteful; but the doctor carried it off gaily. “My poor Utterson,” said he, “you are unfortunate in such a client. I never saw a man so distressed as you were by my will; unless it were that hide-bound pedant, Lanyon, at what he called my scientific heresies. O, I know he’s a good fellow—you needn’t frown—an excellent fellow, and I always mean to see more of him; but a hide-bound pedant for all that; an ignorant, blatant pedant. I was never more disappointed in any man than Lanyon.”

A close observer might have noticed that the topic was unpleasant for the doctor, but he kept up a cheerful manner. “My poor Utterson,” he said, “you’re unlucky to have a client like me. I’ve never seen anyone as upset as you were by my will. Unless it was Lanyon, that narrow-minded stickler, over what he called my scientific heresies. Oh, I know he’s a good man. You needn’t frown. An excellent man, and I’m always meaning to see more of him. But he’s still a narrow-minded stickler, an ignorant, loudmouthed stickler. No man has ever disappointed me more than Lanyon.”

“You know I never approved of it,” pursued Utterson, ruthlessly disregarding the fresh topic.

“You know I never approved of it,” Utterson continued, ruthlessly ignoring the new topic.

“My will? Yes, certainly, I know that,” said the doctor, a trifle sharply. “You have told me so.”

“My will? Yes, of course, I know that,” said the doctor, a little sharply. “You’ve told me.”

“Well, I tell you so again,” continued the lawyer. “I have been learning something of young Hyde.”

“Well, I’m telling you again,” the lawyer continued. “I’ve been learning a little about young Hyde.”

The large handsome face of Dr. Jekyll grew pale to the very lips, and there came a blackness about his eyes. “I do not care to hear more,” said he. “This is a matter I thought we had agreed to drop.”

Dr. Jekyll’s large, handsome face turned pale, even his lips, and the area around his eyes darkened. “I don’t want to hear any more,” he said. “I thought we had agreed to drop this subject.”

“What I heard was abominable,” said Utterson.

“What I heard was disgusting,” said Utterson.

“It can make no change. You do not understand my position,” returned the doctor, with a certain incoherency of manner. “I am painfully situated, Utterson; my position is a very strange—a very strange one. It is one of those affairs that cannot be mended by talking.”

“It won’t change anything. You don’t understand my situation,” the doctor replied, sounding somewhat confused. “I’m in a painful situation, Utterson. My situation is very strange, very strange indeed. It’s one of those problems that talking can’t fix.”

“Jekyll,” said Utterson, “you know me: I am a man to be trusted. Make a clean breast of this in confidence; and I make no doubt I can get you out of it.”

“Jekyll,” said Utterson, “you know me. You can trust me. Tell me everything in confidence, and I have no doubt I can get you out of this trouble.”

“My good Utterson,” said the doctor, “this is very good of you, this is downright good of you, and I cannot find words to thank you in. I believe you fully; I would trust you before any man alive, ay, before myself, if I could make the choice; but indeed it isn’t what you fancy; it is not as bad as that; and just to put your good heart at rest, I will tell you one thing: the moment I choose, I can be rid of Mr. Hyde. I give you my hand upon that; and I thank you again and again; and I will just add one little word, Utterson, that I’m sure you’ll take in good part: this is a private matter, and I beg of you to let it sleep.”

“My dear Utterson,” said the doctor, “you’re very kind. You’re truly kind, and I can’t find the words to thank you. I believe you completely. I would trust you more than anyone alive, yes, even more than myself, if I could choose. But the situation really isn’t what you imagine. It’s not as bad as that. And just to put your mind at ease, I’ll tell you one thing. The moment I choose, I can be rid of Mr. Hyde. I give you my hand as a promise, and I thank you again and again. And I’ll add just one small thing, Utterson, which I’m sure you won’t take the wrong way. This is a private matter, and I beg you to leave it alone.”

Utterson reflected a little, looking in the fire.

Utterson thought for a moment, looking into the fire.

“I have no doubt you are perfectly right,” he said at last, getting to his feet.

“I’m sure you’re completely right,” he said at last, standing up.

“Well, but since we have touched upon this business, and for the last time I hope,” continued the doctor, “there is one point I should like you to understand. I have really a very great interest in poor Hyde. I know you have seen him; he told me so; and I fear he was rude. But I do sincerely take a great, a very great interest in that young man; and if I am taken away, Utterson, I wish you to promise me that you will bear with him and get his rights for him. I think you would, if you knew all; and it would be a weight off my mind if you would promise.”

“Well, since we’ve brought up this matter, hopefully for the last time,” continued the doctor, “there’s one thing I’d like you to understand. I really do care a great deal about poor Hyde. I know you’ve seen him. He told me so, and I’m afraid he was rude. But I sincerely care a great deal, a very great deal, about that young man. And if I’m taken away, Utterson, I want you to promise to be patient with him and secure his rights. I think you would if you knew everything. And your promise would take a weight off my mind.”

“I can’t pretend that I shall ever like him,” said the lawyer.

“I can’t pretend I’ll ever like him,” said the lawyer.

“I don’t ask that,” pleaded Jekyll, laying his hand upon the other’s arm; “I only ask for justice; I only ask you to help him for my sake, when I am no longer here.”

“I’m not asking for that,” Jekyll pleaded, resting his hand on the other man’s arm. “I’m only asking for justice. I only ask you to help him for my sake when I’m no longer here.”

Utterson heaved an irrepressible sigh. “Well,” said he, “I promise.”

Utterson let out a sigh he couldn’t hold back. “Well,” he said, “I promise.”