"I HAVE COME BACK TO MY OWN!"
Quite the pleasantest of all the rooms that had been so sumptuously
fitted up, when "Mrs. Torrance" came to Oakley, a bride, was the back
drawing-room. At least it was pleasantest in Winter. Its large windows
faced south and west, and all of the Winter sunshine fell upon them,
glowing through crimson curtains, and helping the piled-up anthracite
in the grate to bathe the room in a ruddiness of crimson and golden
bronze.
On this particular December day, the air was crisp and cold, and full
of floating particles of hoar frost, while the winter sun shone bright
and clear. Outside, one felt that it was an exceedingly cold sun. But
viewed from within, it looked inviting enough, and one felt inspired
to dash out into the frosty air and try if they could not walk _a la_
hippogriffe, without touching their feet to the ground.
Some such thought was floating through the mind of Mrs. John Arthur,
who was progressing in her convalescence very rapidly now, and who
had, on this day, made her second descent to the drawing-rooms.
She had donned, for the first time since her illness, a dinner-dress
of rosy silk, its sweeping train and elbow sleeves enriched with
flounces of black lace. As there was, at present, no need to play the
invalid--herself and Davlin being the sole occupants of the room--she
was sweeping up and down its length like a caged lioness.
By and by she swerved from her course, and coming to the grate, put a
daintily shod foot upon the bronze fender. Resting one hand on a
chair, and looking down upon Davlin, who was lounging before the fire
in full dinner costume, she said, abruptly:
"How very interesting all this is!"
Davlin made no sign that he heard.
"Do you know how long we have been playing this little game, sir?"
The man smiled, in that cool way, so exasperating always to her, and
lifting one hand, began to tell off the months on his fingers.
"Let me see, ball opened in June, did it not?"
She nodded impatiently.
"June!" He was thinking of his June flirting with Madeline Payne, and
involuntarily glanced at the windows from whence could be seen the very
trees under which they had wandered, himself and that fair dead girl, in
early June. "Yes, the last of June--I remember,"--reflectively.
"And pray, from what event does your memory date?" exclaimed Cora,
with strong sarcasm.
He glanced up quickly. "Why, _Ma Belle_, from your introduction to the
hills and vales of Bellair, and the master of Oakley."
"Oh, I thought it was from the time you received your pistol wound."
Davlin smiled. "Yes, that scratch _was_ given in June; but I don't
date from trifles, Co."
"Oh! Well, I fancy it was not the fault of the hand that aimed the
bullet, or rather of the _heart_, that you got a 'mere scratch.' I
never believed in your card-table explanation of that affair, sir."
"Well, don't call _me_ to account for _your_ want of faith."
"I believe you promised yourself revenge on the fellow who shot at
you. Why didn't you take it?"
Lucian stooped down and brushed an imaginary speck from his boot toe,
saying, as he did so: "I was forestalled."
"How?"
"The--fellow--is dead."
"Oh, well, I don't care about dead men--what I am anxious about is
this--"
"Oh, yes," maliciously. "Return to subject under discussion. You
embarked in this enterprise in June--"
"Bother," impatiently.
"Late in Summer, bagged your game; in early Autumn, fitted up this
jolly old rookery--"
Cora gave a sniff of disdain.
"Next--well, you know what next. We haven't been two months at this
last job."
"Nevertheless I am tired of it."
"No?"
"I won't stay here a prisoner much longer!"
Davlin came close to her, and letting one hand rest upon her shoulder,
placed the other over hers, which still lay upon the chair back.
"Cora, we won't quarrel about this. The situation is as trying to me
as to you; more so. But our safety lies in moving with caution, and--I
will not permit you to compromise us by any hasty act. You
understand!"
His eyes held her as in a spell, and when, after a moment, the hand
fell from her shoulder and his eyes withdrew their mesmeric gaze, the
woman shrunk from under the one detaining hand and turned sullenly
away, looking like a baffled leopardess.
Davlin resumed his seat and his former careless attitude. Cora walked
to the window and looked down upon the scene below.
At length the man asked, carelessly: "Where's Percy?"
"Down there," nodding toward the terrace, a portion of which was
visible from her point of view. "And, of course, my lady is in her
room watching from her window. When he throws away his cigar, and
turns toward the house, she will come down; not before."
Davlin laughed at her emphasis, and while the sound still vibrated on
the air, the woman turned, and flinging herself upon a divan, said:
"There, she is coming!"
Complain as she might in private, Cora had acted her part to
perfection. Between herself and Miss Arthur, there now existed an
appearance of great cordiality and friendliness. While she treated
Percy with utmost politeness and hospitality, the remembrance of ten
years ago acted as an effectual bar to anything like coquetry, where
he was concerned.
Scarcely had Cora settled herself comfortably upon her divan, when the
door opened noiselessly, and Miss Arthur sailed in, diffusing through
the room the odor of Patchouli as she came. She was, as usual, a
marvel of beflounced silk, false curls, rouge, and pearl powder. Her
face beamed upon Cora in friendliness as she approached her, saying,
with much effusion:
"Oh, you poor child, how delightful to see you once more among us, and
looking like yourself."
Lucian arose and gallantly wheeled forward a large easy chair, saying:
"And how charming you look, Miss Ellen; you make poor Cora appear
quite shabby by contrast."
Cora cast a rather ungrateful glance at the gentleman, and the
spinster simpered, "Oh, you horrid man! Brothers are so ungrateful!"
At this juncture, as Cora had predicted, Mr. Percy presented himself,
and the four fell into attitudes, in front of the grate--Percy leaning
on the back of Miss Arthur's chair, and Cora and Davlin in their
former places.
"_Merci_," said Miss Arthur, pretending to stifle a yawn, "why can't
we all be out in this keen air and sunshine? If there were but snow on
the ground!"
"Snow!" cried Cora, annoyed out of her usual assumption of feebleness;
"don't mention it, if you don't want me to die. We won't have snow, if
you please, until I can drive in a cutter."
Percy laughed softly; his laugh was always disagreeable to Cora, as
having an undercurrent of meaning intended for her alone. And Davlin
said:
"Hear and heed, all ye gods of the wind and weather."
"Well, laugh," said Cora, half laughing herself, "but I am beginning
to feel ambitious. Do let's try to set something afoot to make us feel
as if we were alive, and glad that we were."
"Agreed, Cora," cried Miss Arthur, gushingly, "only tell us what it
shall be."
"Suggest, suggest;" this from Davlin.
The spinster glanced up coquettishly, "Edward, you suggest."
Percy caressed his blonde whiskers thoughtfully, and letting his eyes
rest carelessly on Cora, said, meaningly: "Let's poison each other!"
"Or commit suicide!" retorted Cora, coolly.
"Let's be more sensible," said Davlin. "Let's organize a matrimonial
society, get up a wedding, and go on a journey."
"Anything that will break the monotony," said Cora, while the fair
spinster giggled and put her hands before her face.
At that moment the monotony _was_ broken.
While the words were still lingering on the lips of the fair
convalescent, the door was opened wide by old Hagar, who said, as if
she had been all her life announcing the arrival of great ones at the
court of St. James:
"_Miss Madeline Payne!_"
Then she stepped back, and a vision appeared before them which struck
them dumb and motionless with surprise.
Across the threshold swept a young lady, richly robed in trailing silk
and velvet and fur; with a face fair as a star-flower, haughty as the
face of any duchess; with amber eyes that gazed upon them
contemptuously, masterfully, fearlessly; with wave upon wave of golden
brown hair, clustering about the temples and snowy neck; and with
scarlet lips half parted in a scornful smile.
She swept the length of the room with matchless grace and
self-possession, and pausing before the astonished group, said, in a
voice clear as the chime of silver bells:
"Good-evening, ladies and gentlemen! I believe I have not the honor of
knowing--ah, yes, this is Miss Arthur; _Aunt Ellen_, how do you do?"
There are some scenes that beggar description, and this was such an
one.
[Illustration: "_Miss Madeline Payne!_"--page 346.]
Miss Arthur, who clearly recognized in this lovely young lady the
little Madeline of years ago, was so stricken with astonishment that
she utterly forgot how appropriate it would be to faint.
Cora sat like one in a nightmare.
Percy was conscious of but one feeling. True to his nature even here,
he was staring at this vision of beauty, thinking only, "how lovely!
how lovely!"
And Lucian Davlin? At the first sight of that face, the first sound of
that voice, he had felt as if turning to stone, incapable of movement
or speech. At that moment, had Cora once glanced toward him, his face
must have betrayed his secret. But her eyes were fixed on Madeline.
Davlin felt a tempest raging within his bosom. Madeline alive! This
glowing, brilliant, richly robed, queenly creature--Madeline! Again in
his ears rang her farewell words. Quick as lightning came the thought:
she was his enemy, she would denounce him! And yet, throughout every
fiber of his being, he felt a thrill of gladness. Again there surged
in his heart the mad love that had sprung into being when she had so
gloriously defied him. She was not dead, and he was glad!
Old Hagar had closed the door after her young mistress; and now she
stood near it, calm and immovable as a block of ice.
Madeline Payne stood, for a moment, gazing laughingly into the amazed
face of the spinster. Then she said: "Come, come, Aunt Ellen, don't
stare at me as if I were a ghost! Introduce me to your friends. Is
this lady my new step-mamma?"
Cora roused herself from her stupor, and said, haughtily: "I am _Mrs.
Arthur_, and the mistress of the house!"
"Ah! then you _are_ my new step-mamma? And you have been very ill, I
understand. Pray, don't rise, madame; you look feeble." Then, turning
again to Miss Arthur: "Don't you intend to speak to me, Aunt Ellen?"
"But," gasped the spinster, "I thought, that--you--"
"Oh, I see! You thought that I was dead, and you have been grieving
for me. Well, I will explain: I ran away from my respected papa
because he had selected for me a husband not at all to my taste. Not
desiring to return immediately, I seized an opportunity that came in
my way, and bestowed my name upon a poor girl who died in the
hospital, thus making sure that my anxious friends would abandon all
search for me. However, I have thought better of my decision, and so I
return to my own home to take my position under the _chaperonage_ of
my pretty step-mamma, as the _Heiress of Oakley_!"
These last words opened the eyes of Cora to the new "situation."
Springing to her feet, she forgot for the moment all her weakness, and
cried, wrathfully: "You cannot come here with such a trumped-up story!
Madeline Payne is dead and buried. You are a base impostor!"
Madeline turned tranquilly towards the spinster. "Aunt Ellen, _am_ I
an impostor?"
"No," said Ellen Arthur, sullenly; "you are Madeline Payne. Any one in
the village could testify to that."
Madeline turned to Cora. "Step-mamma, I forgive you. It _is_ hard to
find the entailed estate of Oakley slipping out of your hands, no
doubt, but this world is full of disappointments."
Cora's eyes sought Lucian. That gentleman, who had, outwardly at
least, regained his composure, telegraphed her to be silent.
Miss Payne asked: "Which of these gentlemen is your brother, Mrs.
Arthur?"
Lucian stepped forward with his usual grace, saying; "I am Mrs.
Arthur's brother, Miss Payne. Pray, let me apologize for her
discourteous reception of you; she has been very ill, and is nervous."
Madeline sank into a chair and surveyed him coolly, while she said:
"It is not necessary to apologize for your sister, Mr.--"
"Davlin," supplied Miss Arthur.
"Davlin," repeated Madeline, as if the name had fallen upon her ears
for the first time. "No doubt we shall be the best of friends by and
by. I certainly have to thank her for making so marked an improvement
in these old rooms," glancing about her.
Here the still confused Miss Arthur, in obedience to a sign from her
lover, said: "Miss Madeline, this is my friend, Mr. Percy."
Mr. Percy advanced, bowing like a courtier. The young lady scrutinized
him coolly, saying, with a gleam of mischief in her eyes: "I am
delighted to meet any friend of my aunt's."
Then she turned to Davlin again: "But where is my step-papa? I have
kept myself partially informed of events here. Is he still unable to
be about?"
Davlin looked very serious: "Miss Payne, I fear that my unhappy
brother-in-law will never recover his reason."
Madeline uttered an exclamation expressive of concern, and said: "Oh,
Mr. Davlin, then don't let him know that I am here; at least not yet.
I am so afraid of the insane. I couldn't bear to see him now."
Cora drew a breath of relief, on hearing this. But Lucian, who knew
the girl better, began to fear her, and mentally resolved to define
his own position as speedily as possible. One thing was evident; it
was no part of her plan to betray him, at least not yet.
"Nurse," said Madeline, turning to Hagar, "see that a room is prepared
for me immediately, and send a servant to the station for my luggage.
Also, prepare a room for my maid, who is below, and tell her to get me
out a dinner dress immediately."
Then turning to Cora, "Step-mamma, you look fatigued. Do go to your
room and rest before dinner. Mr. Davlin, at what hour do you dine?"
He explained their reason for dining so early, and she said, as she
turned again to Cora,
"Do lie down, step-mamma; there is still a half-hour before dinner.
And now I will go look after my maid."
She swept them all a stately courtesy, and Percy springing forward to
open the door, she thanked him with a charming side glance, and passed
from the room like a young princess.
There was dead silence among them for a full minute after the door had
closed behind her. Then Percy turned with a disagreeable smile upon
his face, and said:
"You don't stand in need of something exciting _now_, do you,--Mrs.
Arthur?"
This was too much. Cora sprang to her feet and casting one meaning
glance toward Davlin, swept from the room, erect and firm, utterly
regardless of the fact that her exit was quite incompatible with the
invalid _role_ she had been sustaining.
An angry flush overspread the face of Lucian Davlin, as he realized,
after one quick look at the face of Percy, how thoroughly she had
betrayed herself. He was too good a diplomat, however, to quit the
field without a stroke in his own behalf. So giving a low whistle he
turned toward the spinster, saying:
"See what excitement will do. One would think she had the strength of
two of us."
To which Percy responded, dryly: "She certainly did not step like an
invalid."
Then the three stood looking aimlessly at each other or anything,
seemingly not at all inclined to converse.
After a few moments of listless gazing out at the window, Lucian
turned upon his heel and quitted the room. He was too wise to approach
Cora in her present mood. Even had he thought it advisable, he felt
little inclination to see and converse with her or anyone then. Like a
man in a dream, he wandered out and down the wide hall. Almost
unconsciously he opened the library door, and crossing to the great
double window, leaned against the casement and looked out.
Again his eyes rested upon the grove where he had so often wandered
with the lovely girl who, to-day, had so coolly ignored him. Then she
had clung to him with trusting affection; now,--how did she look upon
him now? Could the love that she surely had felt for him in those
Summer days, have entirely died out in her heart? Did not a woman's
love outlast her anger? And was he not the same man, with the same
will-power, and the same strength of magnetism?
Where had she been all these months? And how came she here now, robed
liked a princess; she, who had certainly left her home penniless?
Clearly, she had found friends. Who were they? And what did they know
of matters here at Oakley?
For once Mr. Davlin was at a loss how to act. Would it be safe to
stay? Would it be wise to go? Would he be able to control Cora in this
new emergency? One thing was certain: The heiress of Oakley meant to
be mistress in her mother's house, and she was in a fair way to
possess the throne.
Lucian turned away from the window, and from the scene that mocked
him, muttering: "I will see her alone, let come what will. I will make
one struggle to regain my power over her, and if I succeed--"
Evidently the wily gambler could not testify as to what would be
likely to follow. For the second time since his partnership with Cora,
he found that lady a stumbling-block by no means despicable.
On leaving the drawing-room, Cora rushed up the stairs, and throwing
open the door of her dressing-room, fairly precipitated herself across
the threshold, forgetting in her blind rage to close the door behind
her. She stood still for an instant, and then, springing to the
window, threw it wide open, letting in a flood of wintry air. For a
moment she leaned across the sill, drinking in deep draughts of the
frosty ether. Then dashing down the sash, she turned swiftly, and
encountered a pair of bright black eyes that looked in at her from the
secure darkness of the hall. Sweeping across the room, she confronted
the owner of the eyes, demanding haughtily:
"Who are you? And how dare you spy at my door?"
The woman--for it was a woman--came forward and said, respectfully:
"If you please, I am Miss Payne's maid, and I was just bringing up
some things from the hall, ma'am," lifting to view a chatelaine and
shawl strap. "I didn't mean to annoy you. I was only surprised to see
such a pretty young lady here."
Miss Payne's maid was a large woman of a very uncertain age, arrayed
in sober black, not at all like the usual ladies' maid. But she seemed
so very respectful, and full of contrition at having annoyed such a
"pretty lady," that Cora made no further assault upon her, but closed
the door with unusual emphasis instead, and gave way once more to the
wrath that was filling her soul.
To be baffled like this now; now, when her schemes were approaching
fruition; now, when this fair domain, this splendid fortune, was just
within her grasp, to have it plucked from her hand by a mere girl, who
mocked her while she said, "this wealth is mine, this house is mine;
woman, you have schemed in vain!"
And this was not all. She had bound herself hand and foot. She had
jeopardized her liberty, for what might not occur, now that this girl
could demand access to the imprisoned old man, her step-father? If she
dared, she would go away that very night. But no; this would only
confirm suspicion, if suspicion were entertained.
Not the least drop in her cup of bitterness, was the knowledge that
Edward Percy was secretly enjoying her discomfiture. As she thought of
him, and his look when she swept past him, Cora stopped short in her
angry promenade, and frowned fiercely. Then she crossed to her mirror
and surveyed her agitated face, saying, half aloud:
"At least I will rob him of that pleasure; baffled as I may be, he
shall never enjoy my discomfiture! I can act a part yet. And Edward
Percy shall find that if my schemes are to be overthrown, his, too,
may suffer. He rejoices to see me thwarted; I will thwart him, let it
cost what it may!"
And Cora began to smooth her rumpled locks, and put her somewhat
disarranged toilet in order, with swift, firm fingers. While she was
thus occupied, there came a tap upon her door. Recognizing it at once,
as Davlin's knock, she said, "come," and never once lifted her eyes
from her task.
Lucian, finding that the dinner hour was at hand, and beginning to
fear that Cora might still further commit herself, had thought it
wisest to come and see what was the state of her feelings, and
endeavor to persuade her to play out her part. He entered the room
with some apprehension; but seeing her so composed, came close as she
stood before her dressing-glass and said, as he gazed down at the
flounce she was busy adjusting:
"Now is the time for pluck, Co. You will come down?"
Cora gave a last touch to the silk and lace and then, letting the
sweeping train fall from her hand, and standing very erect before him,
said:
"Yes, I shall go down. Do you suppose I will let that man think that I
am completely annihilated? There; don't talk to me now! I shall not
forget myself again, never fear. But after dinner, come to me here.
You were wise enough to bring me into this charming 'corner,' now let
your wisdom take me out of it, or I will extricate myself in my own
way."
Again the iron hand fell upon her shoulder, as her partner in iniquity
hissed in her ear:
"And I intend that you shall not be a fool! Our game is not lost. Let
me once get the lay of the land, and we may win yet."
She turned her eyes upon him with angry incredulity. "How, pray?"
"Wait and see!"
She made no reply, but, taking up her dainty handkerchief, turned to
leave the room, motioning him to precede her. In the hall, she paused
at the head of the stairs, saying:
"Go down; I will come directly."
"What are you going to do?"
"Go down," she repeated; "I know what I am doing."
She went slowly down the hall in the direction of the room before
which stood Madeline's luggage that had just arrived from the little
station.
Lucian gazed after her in some amazement, watched her tap softly,
heard the door open, saw her enter the room, and then went slowly
down-stairs.