"Death is King--and _Vivat Rex!_"--TENNYSON.
It was late on the following morning when I entered the breakfast-room;
very fluttering and nervous, I anticipated the usual allusions to my
pale looks, and Grace's amiable bantering, but quite a different scene
from the one I had expected met me. Too much absorbed to notice my
entrance, the whole group were clustered together, intent upon the
newly-arrived paper. They had evidently devoured it, and now were
commenting eagerly upon the news it contained, and referring constantly
to it. Only Mr. Rutledge, with knit brow, leaning forward on the table,
seemed to note my entrance.
"I never heard a more cool-blooded, revolting thing," said Phil.
"I suppose the whole country is alive with it now," remarked the
captain. "The wretch can hardly escape detection, thanks to the
telegraph, railroads, and police of this nineteenth century. The news,
no doubt, has spread far and wide by this time."
"It will haunt me till the day of my death!" exclaimed Josephine. "I
never read so horrible a murder."
"Oh," said Grace, coolly, "it's only because we knew him that it seems
so dreadful. There are just as awful things in the paper every day."
"There has never been anything in this part of the country though, I
fancy, that has caused as much excitement," said Phil. "Thomas tells me
that the furore in the village is intense; the men do not think of going
to their work, but stand in groups about, while most of them have
formed themselves into a sort of vigilance committee, and swear that the
murderer shall be tracked. The poor doctor, you know, was quite a
popular man, and such a thing as this is so unheard of, that the
country-people are entirely beside themselves about it."
"What is it you are talking about?" I faltered, leaning on the back of a
chair for support, and trying to be self-possessed.
"Oh! Why, have you just come down?" exclaimed Grace, delighted to find a
fresh auditor for the awful tale that she seemed really to enjoy
relating. "Why, you must know that last night, a man coming from
Norbury, late in the evening, discovered the body of Dr. Hugh lying at
the entrance of a wood about four miles from the village, stabbed in
four or five places, and quite cold. His horse and gig were tied to a
tree close by, and the footprints on the ground beside where the body
was found, show that the poor wretch did not yield to his murderer
without a desperate struggle. His hands were"----
"You are making it unnecessarily horrible," said Mr. Rutledge, sternly,
and starting forward, placed a chair for me, and poured out a glass of
water.
"Why, she's going to faint!" exclaimed Ella Wynkar, staring at me with
her dull, blue eyes, while Mrs. Churchill came forward ejaculating,
"What is the matter? Are you ill?"
"It is not at all strange that she should be shocked at hearing such a
thing so suddenly," answered Mr. Rutledge for me. "You must remember,
Miss Grace, we all had it more gradually: first my suspicions, then
Thomas' report, then the morning paper; which is very different from
hearing it all at a breath, and without any warning."
Mr. Rutledge tried to divert them from the theme, and save me from the
faintness which his quick eye detected at each new disclosure or
conjecture, but in vain. Nothing else could be thought or spoken of. How
the murderer should be hunted down, what blood-thirsty and revengeful
men were already on the track, how impossible was his escape; these were
the pleasant topics of the morning Within those two hours I learned more
self-command than all my previous life had taught me, for I had an awful
dread at my heart, and I had to listen to these things, as if I were
very indifferent to them.
Phil said, for the honor of the county, he supposed, Mr. Rutledge would
do all in his power to ferret the thing out; and Mr. Rutledge rather
reluctantly assented, and said he supposed it was his duty.
"And," added the captain, "from what you've said of some slight clue you
thought you had to guide you, I suppose you may be of great service, and
it's every man's duty to bring the perpetrator of such a deed to
justice. By Jove! I wish I could help it along!"
"I suppose you are right," said Mr. Rutledge, with a sigh. "I am going
to ride over to the court-house now. Thomas, has my horse been brought
around?"
"He is at the door now, sir," said Thomas.
Mr. Rutledge, with a brief good-morning, left the room, and after a
moment in the library, repassed the dining-room door with his
riding-whip and hat in his hand.
I listened to his retreating footsteps in a kind of nightmare; I must
speak to him before he started on his cruel errand; I must speak, and
yet a spell sealed my lips, a horrible tyranny chained me motionless.
That clue--what did it mean?--why did he look at me so strangely?--I
knew but too well. I heard him pass down the hall slowly and pause at
the door; in another moment he would be gone. I started from the room.
"Mr. Rutledge!"
He turned as I stood before him, white and trembling.
"What is it?" he said, regarding me with a kind of compassion. "What do
you want to say?"
"I want to say--I want to ask you if you have no pity--if you have the
cruelty to want another murder--if there is not blood enough already
shed. Don't listen to what those men tell you," I hurried on, "don't
believe them, when they say it is your duty. It is not! It is your duty
to be merciful. It is your duty to leave vengeance to God. It is your
duty to leave the miserable and the sinful to His justice, and not to
hurry them before man's!"
He looked down at me with a pity in his eyes that was almost divine.
"You need not fear me," he said, turning from me; and descending the
steps mounted his horse and rode slowly away.
* * * * *
"There are a few things," I overheard Kitty say to Frances outside my
door, "in which I should be glad if my young lady was more like yours.
Now there must be some comfort in dressing Miss Josephine, she cares
about things; but all my work is thrown away, sometimes I think. My
young lady has no heart for anything, never looks in the glass after
I've taken all the pains in the world with her, and is just as likely to
throw herself on the bed after her hair is fixed for dinner, as if she
had a nightcap on. For the last two days," Kitty went on in a low tone,
for Frances and she were very good friends now, "for the last two days
she has been so miserable, it makes my heart ache to see her. And as for
the masquerade to-night! she don't care _that_ for it. I've worked my
fingers to the bone to get her dress ready, and like as not, she won't
stay downstairs ten minutes after she gets it on. The whole house is
thinking about nothing else, everybody is in such spirits about it, the
young ladies are just crazy with their dresses and the fun they're going
to have, while she, poor young thing, hardly knows or cares what she's
to wear, and stays moping in her room all day by herself."
"It's a hard thing to have one's young man away," said Frances in her
soft voice, and with a little sigh that told she knew just how hard it
was. Kitty didn't answer. I was afraid she would, and would tell her
how inexplicable she found her mistress's moods. But Kitty was true to
me, though she did love a little gossip, and let my _douleur_ pass for
what she very shrewdly suspected it was not, and soon reverted to the
all-absorbing subject of the masquerade.
"Would you ever know the house!" she said, looking admiringly up and
down the hall. "And doesn't the piazza look beautiful, and the hall. And
just think how all those colored lamps will look when they're lighted.
Really, I can't think what's got into master to take all this trouble,
and turn the house inside out, to please a lot of young ladies that he
doesn't care a straw for!"
Frances opened her eyes as if this were heresy. Kitty went on with
energy: "Miss Josephine Churchill needn't flatter herself that she's
ever going to be more at home at Rutledge than she is now. I don't know
a great deal, but I know enough to know that."
"And I could tell you something perhaps," said Frances, "that might make
you change your mind."
"I'd like to hear it!"
"Oh, but it wouldn't be right. I never talk about my young lady's
secrets."
"But you might tell _me_," urged Kitty, artfully, "I've been so open
with you."
"Come down to the laundry then, while I press out these flounces," and
the two maids flitted downstairs to whisper over the secrets that their
respective mistresses had fondly fancied were buried in the recesses of
their own hearts.
And so each way I turned, there was a new dagger to stab me. No wonder
that as Kitty said, I had no heart for anything, and only longed to be
away and be at rest. Anxiety was added to the remorse and regret that I
had first thought insupportable, and such an anxiety as made my nights
sleepless, and my days a misery. No wonder that my white face, and the
dark ring around my eyes bore hourly witness to the heaviness of my
heart.
"Why so sad and pale, young sinner?" called out Grace that evening, as
about an hour after tea we were dispersing to our rooms to dress for the
all-important occasion. "I think you ought to appear as Mariana, and
sing 'I am aweary, aweary;' don't you think so, Mr. Rutledge?"
"Miss Grace, I haven't given the subject enough thought."
"I would give worlds to know what you are going to wear, Mr. Rutledge!"
exclaimed Josephine. "But I _know_ I shall detect you instantly. I
should know your step and carriage under twenty dominoes, and among a
thousand people."
"Pretty high figures those, Joseph! Phil, I shall know you by your
stride, and you couldn't disguise your voice if you practised a year,
and that bow is 'Philip Arbuthnot, His Mark,' all the world over!"
"The best way to disguise our voices," said Capt. McGuffy, "is to speak
French. I think we had all better agree to do it."
"Ella will not object," said Grace, "now Mr. Viennet is not here to
criticise."
"Hush, Grace!" cried her sister maliciously. "How can you be so
thoughtless? Why do you continually harrow up your cousin's feelings. By
the way, this is the day the steamer sails, is it not?"
"No, yesterday," said Ellerton. "The list of passengers will be in
to-day's papers. Has the mail come yet, Mr. Rutledge?"
"There is Thomas with it now."
Thomas deposited the package on the hall table and withdrew. I was
standing nearest of the group to it, and putting out my hand, took up
the "Times."
The others approached and with great interest examined the letters. "Why
my dear!" said Josephine pleasantly, "I'm astonished that there's none
for you! Not a word since he went away. That doesn't look devoted!"
The color went and came in my face, but it wasn't the taunt that I
minded.
"Never mind!" cried Grace, "don't break its heart about him! It shall
have another lover, it shall have the big Mason, so it shall!"
"May I trouble you for the 'Times' one moment?" asked Ellerton Wynkar,
"I want to look over the departures."
"According to my cousin," I said, tightening my grasp upon the paper, "I
have the greatest interest in them, and I must beg the privilege of
reading the list first."
"That's not fair!" cried Grace. "How do you know but we have lovers
sailing in the 'Arago' as well as you? I must have that paper," and,
springing forward, she grasped my wrists.
She could have overcome me in a moment, for just then I was as weak as a
child; but Mr. Rutledge, in his firm, quiet way, released my hands, and,
holding Grace's tightly in his own, said:
"You had better make your escape with it to your room; I cannot insure
you if you stay."
With a grateful look and a forced laugh I ran upstairs, locked myself in
my room, and, tearing open the paper, glanced hurriedly up and down the
columns for the list of the "Arago's" passengers. At last I found it,
and skimmed eagerly through it. It was as I expected; I was not
disappointed nor shocked; but my hand trembled so I could hardly cut the
paragraph out. Ringing for Kitty, I sent the paper down, with my
compliments to Mr. Wynkar.
It was nearly nine o'clock before Kitty came back to dress me. I had
rung twice, but received no answer. When she did come, I saw in a moment
that the delay had been caused by some unusual and exciting cause. She
was nervous and uneasy, and started at every sound. Whenever I caught
her eye, it dropped quickly before mine, and she hurried on with less
than her usual care, the dress on which she had bestowed so much pains
and regarded with so much pride. When I was dressed, I looked at myself
with some surprise; I was, indeed, effectually disguised. Over my white
tarletan ball-dress, I wore a domino of white silk, trimmed with heavy
white fringe, and instead of the ordinary hideous black satin mask, a
silver gauze before the upper part of my face, and a fall of white lace
concealed my features entirely. The heels of my white kid boots were
made very high, and that, together with the long sweeping dress, made me
appear so much taller than usual, that that one circumstance would of
itself have deceived almost any one. I noticed, after I was all dressed,
and ready to go down, that Kitty was a long time in adjusting, to her
entire satisfaction, the cord and tassel that confined the domino at the
waist. Just as I was leaving the room, I chanced to look down, and saw
that there was a narrow blue ribbon knotted to one of the tassels.
"What's this, Kitty? Take it off, please."
"That? O, it's nothing, Miss. The tassel was a little loose, and I
fastened it up."
"But all the rest of my dress is white--this spoils the effect. You'd
better take a piece of white ribbon."
"Oh! Miss" (a little impatiently), "how particular you've grown! I
thought you wouldn't mind the bit of blue, and it's _so_ late. The
carriages have been coming this half hour."
"Well, no matter then. I'll go down."
Kitty preceded me, stealing an occasional look around, to ascertain that
there was no one in sight, then beckoned me across the hall, hurried me
down the private staircase and through a labyrinth of pantries, to a
door that opened upon the shrubbery.
"This way," whispered Kitty. "Follow me."