Incident at the Window

It chanced on Sunday, when Mr. Utterson was on his usual walk with Mr. Enfield, that their way lay once again through the by-street; and that when they came in front of the door, both stopped to gaze on it.

One Sunday, Mr. Utterson was on his usual walk with Mr. Enfield. Their route happened to take them through the side street again. When they reached the door, both men stopped to gaze at it.

“Well,” said Enfield, “that story’s at an end at least. We shall never see more of Mr. Hyde.”

“Well,” said Enfield, “at least that story is over. We’ll never see Mr. Hyde again.”

“I hope not,” said Utterson. “Did I ever tell you that I once saw him, and shared your feeling of repulsion?”

“I hope not,” said Utterson. “Did I ever tell you I saw him once and felt the same disgust you did?”

“It was impossible to do the one without the other,” returned Enfield. “And by the way, what an ass you must have thought me, not to know that this was a back way to Dr. Jekyll’s! It was partly your own fault that I found it out, even when I did.”

“It was impossible to do one without the other,” Enfield replied. “And by the way, you must have thought me an idiot. I didn’t know this was a back entrance to Dr. Jekyll’s! You were partly to blame for my finding out, even when I did.”

“So you found it out, did you?” said Utterson. “But if that be so, we may step into the court and take a look at the windows. To tell you the truth, I am uneasy about poor Jekyll; and even outside, I feel as if the presence of a friend might do him good.”

“So you found out, did you?” said Utterson. “But if so, we can step into the courtyard and look at the windows. To tell you the truth, I’m worried about poor Jekyll. And even from outside, I feel as if a friend’s presence might do him good.”

The court was very cool and a little damp, and full of premature twilight, although the sky, high up overhead, was still bright with sunset. The middle one of the three windows was half-way open; and sitting close beside it, taking the air with an infinite sadness of mien, like some disconsolate prisoner, Utterson saw Dr. Jekyll.

The courtyard was very cool and a little damp, already dim with twilight, although the sky high overhead still glowed with sunset. The middle of the three windows was halfway open. Beside the open window, Utterson saw Dr. Jekyll sitting close by, taking in the fresh air. He looked endlessly sad, like a despairing prisoner.

“What! Jekyll! Jekyll!” he cried. “I trust you are better.”

“What! Jekyll! Jekyll!” he cried. “I hope you’re feeling better.”

“I am very low, Utterson,” replied the doctor drearily, “very low. It will not last long, thank God.”

“I feel very low, Utterson,” the doctor replied gloomily, “very low. It won’t last long, thank God.”

“You stay too much indoors,” said the lawyer. “You should be out, whipping up the circulation like Mr. Enfield and me. (This is my cousin—Mr. Enfield—Dr. Jekyll.) Come now; get your hat and take a quick turn with us.”

“You spend too much time indoors,” said the lawyer. “You should get outside and get your blood flowing, like Mr. Enfield and me. (Dr. Jekyll, this is my cousin, Mr. Enfield.) Come on, get your hat and join us for a quick walk.”

“You are very good,” sighed the other. “I should like to very much; but no, no, no, it is quite impossible; I dare not. But indeed, Utterson, I am very glad to see you; this is really a great pleasure; I would ask you and Mr. Enfield up, but the place is really not fit.”

“You’re very kind,” the other man sighed. “I’d like to very much. But no, no, no, it’s quite impossible. I don’t dare. But really, Utterson, I’m very glad to see you. Seeing you is truly a great pleasure. I’d invite you and Mr. Enfield up, but the place really isn’t suitable.”

“Why, then,” said the lawyer, good-naturedly, “the best thing we can do is to stay down here and speak with you from where we are.”

“Well, then,” the lawyer said kindly, “the best thing we can do is stay down here. We can talk to you from where we are.”

“That is just what I was about to venture to propose,” returned the doctor with a smile. But the words were hardly uttered, before the smile was struck out of his face and succeeded by an expression of such abject terror and despair, as froze the very blood of the two gentlemen below. They saw it but for a glimpse for the window was instantly thrust down; but that glimpse had been sufficient, and they turned and left the court without a word. In silence, too, they traversed the by-street; and it was not until they had come into a neighbouring thoroughfare, where even upon a Sunday there were still some stirrings of life, that Mr. Utterson at last turned and looked at his companion. They were both pale; and there was an answering horror in their eyes.

“That is just what I was about to suggest,” the doctor replied with a smile. But he had hardly spoken when the smile vanished from his face. In its place came a look of such utter terror and despair that the two gentlemen below felt their blood freeze. They caught only a glimpse of his face, because the window was immediately slammed shut. But that glimpse was enough, and they turned and left the courtyard without a word. They also walked down the side street in silence. Only when they reached a nearby main street did Mr. Utterson finally turn and look at his companion. Even on a Sunday, there were still some signs of life on that street. Both men were pale, and the horror in each man’s eyes was reflected in the other’s.

“God forgive us, God forgive us,” said Mr. Utterson.

“God forgive us, God forgive us,” said Mr. Utterson.

But Mr. Enfield only nodded his head very seriously, and walked on once more in silence.

But Mr. Enfield just nodded very seriously and continued walking in silence.