A DISCOVERY.
Why stand ye thus amazed? me thinks your eyes
Are fixed in meditation; and all here
Seem like so many senseless statues,
As if your souls had suffered an eclipse
Betwixt your judgments and affections.
--_Swetnam_
We must return to Claudia, and to that evening when she was accosted
by Katie on the stairs.
On that occasion Claudia went down to dinner without feeling the
least anxiety on the subject of Katie's promised communication. She
supposed, when she thought of it at all, that it was some such idle
rumor as frequently arose concerning the discovery of some suspected
person implicated in the murder of Ailsie Dunbar.
The dinner that evening happened to be more protracted than usual.
And when they arose from the table Mrs. Dugald, contrary to her
custom, immediately retired to her private apartments. Claudia was
also about to withdraw, when the viscount said to her:
"Excuse me, Lady Vincent; but I must request the favor of a few
moments' conversation with you."
"Very well, my lord," answered Claudia, bowing coldly.
He led the way to the drawing room and Claudia followed. Coffee was
already served there, and old Cuthbert was in attendance to hand it
around.
"You may go, Cuthbert. We can wait on ourselves." said Lord Vincent,
as he led his wife to a seat and took one for himself near her.
When the old servant had left the room the viscount turned to
Claudia and said:
"Lady Vincent, I have been obliged to solicit this interview because
I have much to say to you, while you give me very few opportunities
of saying anything."
Claudia bowed a cold assent and remained silent.
"It is of Mrs. Dugald that I wish to speak to you."
"I am listening, my lord," replied Claudia haughtily.
"Lady Vincent, this arrogant manner towards me will not serve any
good purpose. However, it is not on my own score that I came to
complain, but on Mrs. Dugald's; that lady's position in this house
is a very delicate one."
"So delicate, my lord, that I think the sooner she withdraws from it
the better it will be."
"You do! It is the to that end, then, I presume, that you have
treated her with so much scorn and contempt?" said his lordship
angrily.
"My lord, with all my faults, I am no hypocrite; and with all my
accomplishments I am no actress."
"What do you mean by that, my lady?"
"I mean that I have not been able to treat your--sister-in-law--with
the respect that I could not feel for her," replied Claudia, with
disdain.
"No, madam!" exclaimed Lord Vincent, turning pale with rage. "You
have treated that lady with the utmost contumely. And I have
demanded this interview with you for the express purpose of telling
you that I will not submit to have the widow of my brother treated
with disrespect in my own house and by my own wife!"
Claudia arose with great dignity and answered:
"My lord, since you desired this interview for the purpose of
expressing your wishes upon this point; and, since you have
expressed them, I presume the object of our meeting has been
accomplished and I am at liberty to withdraw. Good-night."
"Not so fast, not so fast, Lady Vincent! I have not done with you
yet, my lady. The will that I have just spoken must be obeyed. Mrs.
Dugald must be treated by you, as well as by others, with the
courtesy and consideration due to her rank and position. Many abuses
must be reformed. And among them is this--your constant refusal to
appear in public with her. Ever since your arrival here Mrs. Dugald
has been a prisoner in the house, because she cannot go out alone;
and she will not go out, attended by me, unless you are also of the
party, for fear that evil-minded people will talk."
Claudia's beautiful lip curled with scorn as she answered:
"Mrs. Dugald's scruples do credit to her--powers of duplicity."
"You wrong her. You always wrong her; but, by my soul, you shall not
continue to do so! Listen, Lady Vincent! Mr. and Mrs. Dean, the
celebrated tragedians, are playing a short engagement at Banff. Mrs.
Dugald and myself wish to go and see them. It will be proper for you
to be of the party. I desire that you will be prepared to go with us
to-morrow evening."
Claudia's face flushed crimson with indignation.
"Excuse me, my lord. I cannot possibly appear anywhere in public
with Mrs. Dugald," she haughtily replied.
"If you fail to go with us, you will rue your scorn in every vein of
your heart, my lady. However, I will not take your final answer to-
night; I will give you another chance in the morning. Au revoir!" he
said, with an insulting laugh, as he lounged out of the room.
Claudia remained where he had left her, transfixed with indignation,
for a few minutes. And then she began to walk up and down the room
to exhaust her excitement before going upstairs to her dressing
room, where she supposed that Katie was awaiting her.
She walked up and down the floor some fifteen or twenty minutes, and
then left the saloon and sought her own apartments. She had just
reached the landing of the second floor, on which her rooms were
situated, when she was startled by a low, half-suppressed cry of
"Murd--," which was quickly stopped, and immediately followed by a
muffled fall and a low scuffling, and the voice of Lord Vincent
muttering vehemently: "Faustina!" and other words inaudible to the
hearer.
"Ah! they are quarreling as usual!" said Claudia to herself, with a
scornful smile, as she crossed the hall and entered her own suite of
apartments.
"I have kept you waiting, Katie; but I could not help it, my good
woman," she said cheerfully, as she entered her dressing room. But
there was no reply. She looked around her in surprise. Katie was
nowhere to be seen; the room was empty. The lamp was burning dimly
and the fire was smoldering out.
Claudia raised the light of the lamp, and, seating herself in her
easy-chair before the fire, stirred the coals into a blaze and
began, to warm her feet and hands.
"'The old creature has grown weary of waiting, I suppose, and has
gone down to her supper," she said to herself. And she sat waiting
patiently for some time before she rang her bell.
Sally answered it.
"Go down, Sally, and tell Katie that I am here and ready to see her
now," said Lady Vincent.
Sally went on this errand, but soon returned and said:
"If you please, ma'am, Aunt Katie aint nowhere downstairs. I s'pects
she's done gone to bed."
Claudia suddenly looked up to the ormolu clock that stood upon the
mantel shelf.
"Why, yes!" she said, "it is nearly eleven o'clock. I had no idea
that it was so late. Of course she has gone to bed."
"Mus' I go call her up, ma'am?"
"No, Sally; certainly not. But there was something that she said she
had to tell me. Something, I fancy, it was, about the murder of that
poor girl. Has anything new been discovered in relation to that
affair, do you know?"
"No, ma'am, not as I has hearn. 'Deed it was only jes now we was
all a-talking about it in de servants' hall, and Mr. Frisbie he was
a-mentioning how misteerious it was, as we could hear nothing. And
jes then your bell rung, ma'am, and I came away."
"Well, Sally, you must help me to disrobe, and then you may go."
The waiting maid did her duty and retired.
And Claudia, wrapped in her soft dressing gown and seated in her
easy-chair before the fire, gave herself up to thought.
She was thinking of her meeting with Katie on the stairs. Since it
was no new rumor connected with the murder, she was wondering what
could be the nature of the communication Katie had to make to her.
She recalled the anxious, frightened, indignant countenance of the
old woman, and in her memory that expression seemed to have a more
significant meaning than it had had to her careless eyes at the time
of seeing it.
What could it be that Katie had to tell her? Of course Claudia did
not know; she soon gave up trying to conjecture; but felt impatient
for the morning, when the mystery should be revealed.
Other anxious thoughts also troubled her; thoughts of the dangers to
which she was exposed from the hatred of Lord Vincent, the jealousy
of Mrs. Dugald, and the depravity of both; thoughts of her father's
long and strange silence; thoughts of the insult she had received
that evening in being commanded to chaperon Mrs. Dugald to the
theater; thoughts of the mysterious sounds she had heard from Mrs.
Dugald's room, and which she was so far from connecting with any
idea of Katie that she attributed them solely to a quarrel between
her two precious companions; and lastly the ever-recurring thoughts
of that mysterious discovery which old Katie had made, and which she
was so eager to impart to her lady. Ever Claudia's thoughts,
traveling in a circle, came back to this point.
Wearied with fruitless speculation she still sat on, watching the
decaying fire and listening to the thunder of the sea as it broke
upon the rocks at the base of the castle. At length she got up, drew
aside the heavy window curtains, opened the strong oaken shutters
and looked out upon the expanse of the gray and dreary sea, dimly
visible under the cloudy midnight sky.
At last she closed the window and went to bed. But she could not
sleep. She lay wakeful, restless, anxious, through the long hours of
the middle night, and through the gray dawn of morning and the early
flush of day. A little before her usual hour of rising she rang the
bell.
Sally answered it.
"Is Katie up?" she inquired.
"No, ma'am. Mus' I wake her?"
"Certainly not. Let her have her sleep out, poor creature. And do
you stop and help me to dress."
And so saying Claudia arose and made an elegant morning toilet; for
Claudia, like Mary Stuart, would have "dressed" had she been a
lifelong, hopeless captive.
When her toilet was made she directed Sally to bring her a cup of
strong coffee; and when she had drunk it she sat down to wait with
what patience she could for the awakening of old Katie.
Poor Claudia, with all her faults, was kind to her dependents and
considerate of their comforts. And so, anxious as she was to hear
the communication old Katie had to make to her, she was resolved not
to have the old woman's rest broken.
She sat by the window of her dressing room, looking out upon the
boundless sea from which the sun was rising, and over which a
solitary sail was passing. She sat there until the breakfast bell
rang. And then she went below.
She was the first in the breakfast room, and she remained there
standing before the fire full ten minutes before anyone else
appeared.
Lord Vincent was the next to come in. And Claudia actually started
when she saw the awful pallor of his face. Every vestige of color
had fled from it; his brow, cheeks, and even lips were marble white;
his voice shook in saying "good-morning," and his hand shook in
lifting the "Banff Beacon" from the table.
While Claudia was watching him in wonder and amazement, there came a
flutter and a rustle, and Mrs. Dugald entered the room all
brightness and smiles.
She gave one quick, wistful glance at the viscount, and then
addressed him in a hurried, anxious tone, speaking in the Italian
language and saying:
"Rouse yourself! Look not so like an assassin. You will bring
suspicion!"
"Hush!" answered the viscount, with a quick glance towards Claudia,
which warned La Faustina that the American lady might be supposed to
understand Italian.
Claudia did understand it, and was filled with a vague sense of
horror and amazement.
They sat down to the table. Lord Vincent followed Mrs. Dugald's
advice and tried to "rouse" himself. And after he had two or three
cups of coffee he succeeded.
Faustina was as bright as a paroquet and as gay as a lark. She
prattled on in a perpetual, purling stream of music. Among other
things she said:
"And do we go to see Mr. and Mrs. Dean in 'Macbeth' tonight, mon
ami?"
"Yes; and Lady Vincent goes with us," answered Lord Vincent
emphatically.
"I beg your pardon, my lord. I have already declined to do so," said
Claudia, speaking with forced coolness, though her heart was
burning, her cheeks flaming, and her eyes flashing with indignation.
"You will think better of it, my lady. You will go. Cuthbert, pass
the eggs."
"I shall not, my lord," replied Claudia.
"Why will you not? Pepper, Cuthbert."
"For the reason that I gave you last night. Your lordship cannot
wish me to repeat it here."
"Oh, a very particular reason you gave me! The salt, Cuthbert," said
his lordship, coolly breaking the shell of his egg.
"A reason, my lord, that should be considered sufficiently
satisfactory to relieve me from importunity on the subject,"
answered Claudia.
"If miladie does not wish to go, we should not urge her to do so,"
observed Mrs. Dugald, as she slowly sipped her chocolate.
"Certainly not. And now I think of it, you can send over for Mrs.
MacDonald to come and go with us. The old lady enjoys the drama
excessively and will be glad to come. So you shall be sure of your
intellectual treat, Faustina."
"That will be so nice!" exclaimed Mrs. Dugald, clapping her hands in
childish glee.
Claudia arose from the table and withdrew to her own apartments. She
was revolted by the fulsome manners of the strange woman who shared
her dwelling, and she was drawn toward the secret, whatever it was,
that old Katie wished to impart to her.
When she entered the rooms she found them all arranged tidily by the
neat hands of Sally, who since the death of poor Ailsie had had the
care of them.
"Sally, has not Katie been up yet?" inquired Lady Vincent.
"No, ma'am; I don't think she's awake yet; I reckon she's a-
oversleepin' of herself. And I would 'a' waked her up, only, ma'am,
you bid me not to do it."
"What, do you mean to say that she has not yet made her appearance?"
demanded Claudia, in alarm.
"Nobody aint seen nothing 'tall of her this morning, ma'am."
"Go to her room at once and see if she is ill. She may be, you know.
Go in quietly, so that you will not awaken her if she should be
asleep," said Claudia, in alarm, for she suddenly remembered that
people of Katie's age and habit sometimes die suddenly and are found
dead in their beds.
Sally went on her errand, and Claudia stood waiting and listening
breathlessly until her return.
"Laws, ma'am, Aunt Katie's done got up, and made her bed up and put
her room to rights, and gone downstairs," said Sally, as she entered
the room.
"Then go at once, and if she has had her breakfast send her up to
me. Strange she did not come."
Sally departed on this errand also, but she was gone longer than on
the first. It was nearly half an hour before she returned. She came
in with a scared face, saying:
"Ma'am, it's very odd; but the servants say as ole Aunt Katie hasn't
been down this morning."
"Hasn't been down this morning? And is not in her room either?"
cried Claudia, in amazement.
"No, ma'am!" answered Sally, stretching her big eyes.
Lady Vincent sharply rang the bell.
The housekeeper promptly answered it, entering the room with an
anxious countenance.
"Mrs. Murdock, is it true that my servant Katie has not been seen
this morning?"
"Me leddy, she has nae been seen, puir auld bodie, sin' last e'en at
the gloaming. She didna come to supper, though Katie isna use to be
that careless anent her bit and sup, neither."
"Not seen since last evening at dusk!" exclaimed Claudia, in
consternation.
"Na, me leddy, ne'er a bit o' her, puir bodie!"
"Go, Mrs. Murdock, and send the maids to look for her in every place
about the castle where she is in the habit of going. And send the
men outside to examine the premises. She may be taken with a fit
somewhere, and die for want of assistance," said Lady Vincent, in
alarm.
"And sae she may, me leddy! That is true enough," replied the dame,
nodding her head emphatically as she hurried out on this mission.
Claudia sat down before her dressing-room fire and tried to wait the
issue patiently. To be sure, she thought Katie might be in the
stillroom, or the linen closet, or the bathroom, and there could be
no reasonable cause of uneasiness. But why, then, did she not come
up? Well, she might have been busy in some one of the above-
mentioned places; and she might have been waiting until she thought
her mistress should have got through breakfast; and perhaps she
might come now very soon; might even enter at any moment. Such were
the thoughts that coursed through Claudia's brain, as she tried to
sit still before her little fire.
For more than an hour Claudia waited, and then she impatiently rang
the bell. It brought Mrs. Murdock into the room.
"Has Katie been found yet?"
"Na, me leddy, not a bit of her. The servants are still seeking
her."
"But this is very strange and alarming."
"It just is, me leddy. And I canna but fear that some ill has
happened till her, puir soul!"
"I will go down and assist in the search," said Lady Vincent, rising
anxiously.
"Na, me leddy, dinna gang, ye canna do ony good. The lasses are
seeking in every nook and cranny in the house; and if she is biding
in it they will find her. And the lads hae gone outside to seek in
the grounds, whilk same is sune done; for the castle yard and
grounds are nae that expansive, as your leddyship kens." "But I
cannot sit here, waiting in idleness. It drives me half frantic! Who
can say what may not have happened to poor Katie?"
"Nae, me leddy, dinna fash yo'sel'! She may e'en just ha' gone her
ways over to Banff, or some gait, and may be back sune. I'll gae see
if they ha' brought in ony news."
"Go, then, Mrs. Murdock, and let me know the instant you hear
anything definite," said Claudia, sinking back in her chair.
Mrs. Murdock left the room, and another hour of suspense passed. And
then, uncalled, the housekeeper came up again, and said:
"It is a' in vain, me leddy. The servants have sought everywhere,
within and without the castle, and they can na find the auld bodie
at a'! And your leddyship's ain footman, Jamie, ha' come fra Banff
and brought the morning mail, and he has na seen onything o' his
mither on the road."
"Good Heavens! but this is strange and very dreadful. Send Jim up to
me at once."
The housekeeper went to obey. And Jim soon stood in the presence of
his mistress.
"Any letters from America, Jim?" inquired Lady Vincent anxiously,
and for a moment forgetting poor old Katie's unknown fate.
"No, my lady, not one. There was no foreign mail to-day."
"Another disappointment! Always disappointments!" sighed Claudia.
And then reverting to the subject of Katie's disappearance, she
said:
"What is this about your mother, Jim? When did you see her last? And
have you any idea where she can be gone?"
Jim suddenly burst into tears; for we know that he loved his old
mother exceedingly; and he sobbed forth the words:
"Oh, my lady, I am afeared as somebody has gone and made way with
her as they did with poor Ailsie!"
"Gracious Heaven, Jim, what a horrible idea! and what an utterly
irrational one. Who could possibly have any motive for harming poor
old Katie?"
"I don't know, my lady. But, you see, my poor mother was always a-
watching and a-listening about after his lordship and that strange
lady. And I know they noticed it, and maybe they have done made way
with mother--My lady! oh! you are fainting! You are dying!" cried
Jim, suddenly breaking off, and rushing towards his mistress, who
had turned deadly pale, and fallen back in her chair.
"No, no! water, water!" cried Lady Vincent, struggling to overcome
her weakness.
Jim flew and brought her a full glass. She quaffed its contents
eagerly, and sat up, and tried to collect her panic-stricken
faculties. She had received a dreadful shock. Jim's words had given
the key to the whole mystery. In one terrible moment the ghastly
truth had burst upon her. She understood, now, the whole. She could
combine the circumstances: Katie's agitated meeting with her on the
stairs; the communication which the poor faithful old creature
seemed so eager to make, and which must have related to some
discovery that she had made; the mysterious noises heard in Mrs.
Dugald's apartments; the guilty paleness of the viscount at the
breakfast table; the strange words spoken in Italian by Faustina;
the mysterious disappearance of Katie; all, all these pointed to one
dreadful deed, from the bare thought of which all Claudia's soul
recoiled in horror.
"Jim!" she gasped, in a choking voice.
"My lady!"
"At what hour last evening did you see your mother?"
"Just a little after sunset. The last dinner bell had rung; and I
brought some coal up to put on your ladyship's fire, and I set it on
the outside of the door, intending to take it in as soon as your
ladyship came out to go down to dinner. Well, I was standing there
waiting with the coal when I saw my lord's dor open and Mr. Frisbie
come out, with such a face! Oh, my lady! I don't know how to
describe it; but it had a cruel, cowardly, desperate look--as if he
would have cut someone's throat to save himself a shilling! He
passed on downstairs without ever seeing me. And the next minute my
lord came out of the same room, with--I beg your pardon, my lady--a
look of wicked triumph on his face. He was even laughing, like he
had done something that pleased him. And he happened to look up and
see me, and he growled:
"'What are you doing there, fellow?'
"And I bowed down to the ground a'most, and answered:
"'I have brought up coal for my lady's rooms, my lord.'
"'Very well,' he said, and he went on.
"Next thing, I was tuk right off my feet, by seeing of my own mother
come right out'n that same room. And she came out, did the old
woman, with her eyes rolled up and her arms lifted high, looking as
she a'most always does when she hears anything dreadful; looking
just for all the world as she did the day she heard of poor Ailsie's
murder. Well, my lady, I felt sure as she had been a-hiding of
herself in my lord's room, and had discovered something horrible.
And so I called to her in a low voice:
"'Mother!'
"But she shook her head at me, and ran down the stairs, and stood
waiting. And just at that minute your ladyship came out of your
room. You may remember, my lady, seeing me standing there with the
coal as you came out?"
"Yes, Jim, I remember," replied Lady Vincent.
"Well, my lady, I saw mother stop you, and I heard a whispered
conversation, in which she seemed to beg you to do something that
you hadn't time to attend to, for you went downstairs and left her."
"I was on my way to dinner, you remember; but I bade Katie go into
my dressing room and await me there. When I went up after dinner,
however, I found that she had not followed my directions. She was
not in my apartments, nor have I seen her since."
"I beg pardon, my lady; but, indeed, poor mother did obey your
ladyship. She came upstairs again, and she took the coal hod out'n
my hands, and said--said she:
"'You go right straight downstairs, Jim, and I'll tend to my
ladyship's fires myself.' And I said:
"'Mother,' said I, 'what's the matter?' And she whispered to me:
"'I done hear somethin' awful, Jim; but I must tell my ladyship
before I tells anyone else.'
"'Was it about poor Ailsie's death?' said I.
"'Worse 'an dat,' she answered; and then she went in and shut the
door in my face. And I come away. And that was the last time as ever
I see my poor, dear old mother. She never come down to supper, nor
likewise to play cards in the servants' hall in the evening, as she
is so fond of doing. And surely, my lady, I was not uneasy, because
I knew she often stayed in your ladyship's rooms until late; and as
I had seen her go into them myself that evening, I was feeling full
sure that she was with you. And so I went to bed in peace. And this
morning, as I got up and went to the post office before any of the
woman servants were astir, of course I didn't expect to see her. But
the first thing as I heard when I come back, was as she was a-
missing! And oh, my lady, I'm sure, I'm dead sure, as somebody has
made way with her!" exclaimed Jim, bursting into a fresh flood of
tears.
"Don't despair, Jim; we must hope for the best," replied Lady
Vincent, in whose bosom not a vestige of hope remained.
But Jim only answered with his tears.
"Compose yourself, boy; and go and say to Lord Vincent that I
request to see him in my boudoir."
Jim went out with a heavy heart to do his errand; but returned with
an answer that Lord Vincent was engaged.
"I will not be baffled in this way!" muttered Claudia to herself.
Then speaking aloud she inquired: "Where is his lordship, and upon
what is he engaged?"
"He is sitting in the library, with a bottle of brandy and a box of
cigars on the table by him; he is smoking and drinking."
"'Smoking and drinking' at twelve o'clock in the day!" muttered
Claudia to herself, with a motion of disgust. Then speaking up, she
said: "Go downstairs, Jim, and assist in the search for your poor
mother; I will ring when I want you."