A NIGHT OF HORROR.
He threw his sting into a poisonous libel
And on the honor of--oh God!--his wife,
The nearest, dearest part of all men's honor,
Left a base slur to pass from month to mouth,
Of loose mechanics with all foul comments,
Of villainous jests and blasphemies obscene;
While sneering nobles in more polished guise
Whispered the tale and smiled upon the lie.
--_Byron._
Claudia passed a weary day. She did not cease in her efforts to
discover some clew to the disappearance of old Katie. But all her
efforts were fruitless of success.
Early in the afternoon the carriage that was sent for Mrs. MacDonald
returned, bringing that lady.
Claudia did not go down into the drawing room to receive her; she
considered Mrs. Dugald's companion, whatever her pretensions might
be, no proper associate for Lady Vincent. She met the visitor,
however, at dinner, which was served some hours earlier than usual
in order to give the play-going party time enough to reach their
destination before the rising of the curtain. She found Mrs.
MacDonald to be a thin, pale, shabby woman, about forty years of
age; one of those poor, harmless, complacent creatures who, when
they can de so without breaking any law of God or man, are willing
to compromise a good deal of their self-respect to secure privileges
which they could not otherwise enjoy.
And though Mrs. MacDonald was a descendant of the renowned "Lords of
the Isles," and was as proud of her lineage as any aristocrat alive,
yet she did not hesitate to accept an invitation, to go to the
theater with Lord Vincent, who was called a "fast" man, and Mrs.
Dugald, who was more than a suspected woman. Claudia treated this
lady with the cold politeness that the latter could neither enjoy
nor complain of. Immediately after dinner the party left for Banff.
Few good women have ever been so distressingly misplaced as Claudia
was; therefore few could understand the hourly torture she suffered
from the mere presence of her vicious companions, or the infinite
sense of relief she felt in being rid of them, if only for one
evening. She felt the atmosphere the purer for their absence, and
breathed more freely than she had done for many days.
She soon left the drawing room, whose atmosphere was infected and
disturbed with memories of Mrs. Dugald, and retired to her own
boudoir, where all was comparatively pure and peaceful.
A deep bay-window from this room overhung the sea. There was a
softly cushioned semicircular sofa around this window, and a round
mosaic table within it.
Claudia drew aside the golden-brown curtains and sat down to watch
the gray expanse of ocean, over which the night was now closing.
While gazing abstractedly out at sea she was thinking of Katie. Now
that the darkening influence of Mrs. Dugald's and Lord Vincent's
presence was withdrawn from her sphere, she was enabled to think
clearly and decide firmly. Now that the viscount no longer stood
before her, exercising his diabolical powers of duplicity upon her
judgment, she no longer believed his protestations of ignorance in
regard to Katie's fate. On the contrary, she felt convinced that he
knew all about it. She did not now suppose, what her first frenzied
terrors had suggested, that Katie had been murdered, but that she
had been abducted, or confined, to prevent her from divulging some
secret to the prejudice of the viscount of which she had become
possessed. For Claudia had read the viscount's character aright, and
she knew that though he would not hesitate to break every
commandment in the Decalogue when he could do so with impunity, yet
he would not commit any crime that would jeopardize his own life or
liberty. Therefore she knew he had not murdered Katie; but she
believed that he had "sequestrated" her in some way.
Having come to this conclusion, Claudia next considered what her own
duty was in the premises. Clearly it was for her to take every
measure for the deliverance of her faithful servant, no matter how
difficult or repugnant those measures should be.
Therefore she resolved that early the next morning she would order
the carriage and go on her own responsibility and lodge information
with the police of the mysterious disappearance of her servant and
the suspicious circumstances that attended her evanishment. Claudia
knew that the eye of the police was still on the castle, because it
was believed to hold the undetected murderer of Ailsie Dunbar, and
that, therefore, their action upon the present event would be prompt
and keen. She knew, also, that the investigation would bring much
exposure and scandal to the castle and its inmates; and that it
would enrage Lord Vincent and result in the final separation of
herself and the viscount. But why, she asked herself, should she
hesitate on that account?
The price for which she had sold herself had not been paid. She had
her empty title, but no position. She was not a peeress among
peeresses; not a queen of beauty and of fashion, leading the elite
of society in London. Ah, no! she was a despised and neglected wife,
wasting the flower of her youth in a remote and dreary coast castle,
and daily insulted and degraded by the presence of an unprincipled
rival.
Claudia was by this time so worn out in body and spirit, so
thoroughly wearied and sickened of her life in the castle, that she
only desired to get away with her servants and pass the remainder of
her days in peaceful obscurity.
And her contemplated act of complaining to the authorities was to be
her first step towards that end. Having resolved upon this measure,
Claudia felt more at ease. She drew the curtains of her window, and
seated herself in her favorite easy-chair before the bright, sea-
coal fire, and rang for tea. Sally brought the waiter up to her
mistress, and remained in attendance upon her.
"Has anything been heard of Katie yet?" inquired Lady Vincent.
"No, ma'am, nothing at all," answered Sally through her sobs.
"Don't cry; tell them when you go down, to keep up the search
through the neighborhood; and if she is not forthcoming before to-
morrow morning, I will take such steps as shall insure her
discovery," said Lady Vincent, as she sipped her tea.
Sally only wept in reply.
"Remove this service now. And you need not come up again this
evening unless you have news to bring me of Katie, for I need to be
alone," said Lady Vincent, as she sat her empty cup upon the waiter.
Sally took the service from the room.
And the viscountess wheeled her chair around to the fire, placed her
feet upon the fender, and yielded her wearied and distracted spirit
up to the healing and soothing influences of night and solitude. As
she sat there, the words of a beautiful hymn glided into her memory.
Often before this evening, lying alone and wakeful upon her bed,--
feeling the great blessing night brought her, in isolating her
entirely from her evil companions, and drawing her into a purer
sphere, feeling all the sweet and holy influences of night around
her,--she had soothed her spirit to rest repeating the words of Mr.
Longfellow's hymn:
"From the cool cisterns of the midnight air
My spirit drinks repose;
The fountains of perpetual peace flows there,
From those deep cisterns flows.
Oh, Holy Night! from thee I learn to bear
What souls have borne before,
Thou lay'st thy fingers on the lips of care
And they complain no more.
Peace! Peace! Orestes-like I breathe this prayer,
Descend with broad-winged flight,
The welcome, the thrice prayed-for, the most fair,
The best beloved Night!"
She repeated it now. And it soothed her like a benediction,
A solitary night in her own boudoir would not seem to promise much
enjoyment; yet Claudia was happier, because more peaceful now than
she had ever seen since her first arrival at Castle Cragg.
She sat on, letting the hours pass calmly and silently over her,
until the clock struck ten. Then to her surprise she heard a
knocking at the outer hall door, followed by the sound of an
arrival, and of many footsteps hastening up the stairs.
Claudia arose to her feet in astonishment, and at the same moment
heard the voice of the viscount without, saying in ruffianly tones:
"Burst open the door then! Don't you see it is locked on the
inside?" And with a violent kick the door of Claudia's boudoir,
which certainly was not locked, was thrown open, and Lord Vincent,
with inflamed cheeks and blood-shot eyes, strode into the room,
followed by Mrs. Dugald, Mrs. MacDonald, and old Cuthbert.
"Keep the door, sir! Let no one pass out!" roared the viscount to
his butler, who immediately shut the door and placed himself against
it.
"My lord!" exclaimed Claudia, in indignant amazement, "what is the
meaning of this violence?"
"It means, my lady, that you are discovered, run to earth,
entrapped, cunning vixen as you are!" exclaimed the viscount, with
an air of vindictive triumph.
Mrs. Dugald laughed scornfully.
Mrs. MacDonald turned up her chin contemptuously.
Old Cuthbert groaned aloud.
Claudia looked from one to the other, and then said:
"My lord, you and your friends appear to have been supping on very
bad wine; I would counsel you to retire and sleep off its effects."
"Ha, ha, my lady! You take things coolly! I compliment you on your
self-possession!" sneered the viscount.
Her heart nearly bursting with anger, Claudia threw herself into her
chair, and with difficulty controlling her emotions, said:
"Will your lordship do me the favor to explain your errand in this
room, and then retire with your party as speedily as possible?"
"Certainly, my lady, that is but reasonable, and is also just what I
intended to do," said the viscount, bowing with mock courtesy.
And he drew a letter from his pocket and held it in his hand, while
he continued to speak, addressing himself now to the whole party
assembled in Lady Vincent's boudoir.
"It is necessary to premise, friends, that my marriage with this
lady was a hasty, ill-advised, and inconsiderate one; unacceptable
to my family, unfortunate for myself, humiliating in its results.
For some weeks past my suspicions were aroused to the fact that all
was not right between the viscountess and another member of my
establishment. Cuthbert, keep that door! Let no one rush past!"
"Ah, me laird; dinna fash yoursel'! I'll keep it!" groaned the old
man, putting his back firmly against the door.
"Lord Vincent," exclaimed Claudia haughtily, "I demand that you
retract your words. You know them to be as false--as false as--
yourself. They could not be falser than that!"
"I will prove every word that I have spoken to be true!" replied the
viscount. Then continuing his story, he said: "This morning certain
circumstances strengthened my suspicions. Among others the
persistence with which her ladyship, though in good health, and with
no other engagement at hand, resolved and adhered to her resolution
to remain at home and miss the rare opportunity of seeing Mr. and
Mrs. Dean in their great parts of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth.
Suspecting that her ladyship had some unlawful design in thus
denying herself an amusement of which I know her to be excessively
fond, and preferring to spend the evening at home, of which I know
she is excessively tired, I ordered my faithful old servant,
Cuthbert, to watch--not his mistress, Lady Vincent, but another
individual--"
Here old Cuthbert interrupted the speaker with deep groans.
Claudia remained sitting in her chair, with her face as pale as
death, her teeth firmly set, and her eyes fiercely fixed upon the
face of the man who was thus maligning her honor.
He continued:
"How well my suspicions were founded, and how faithfully old
Cuthbert has performed his duty, you will soon see. It appears that
we had but just started on our drive, when Cuthbert, watching the
motions of the suspected person, saw him steal towards Lady
Vincent's apartments. The old man glided after him, and, unseen
himself, saw him, the miscreant, enter Lady Vincent's boudoir."
"It is as false as Satan! Oh, you infamous wretch, what form of
punishment would be ignominious enough for you!" cried Claudia,
springing to her feet, her eyes flaming with consuming wrath.
But the viscount approached and laid his hand upon her shoulder, and
forced her down into her seat again.
And Claudia, too proud to resist, where resistance would be but a
vain, unseemly struggle, dropped into her chair and sat perfectly
still--a marble statue, with eyes of flame.
The viscount, with fiendish coolness, continued:
"Cuthbert watched and listened on the outside of the door for some
time, and then, thinking that the intruder had no intention of
leaving the room, he went and wrote a note, and sent it by one of
the grooms, mounted on a swift horse, to me. Ladies, you both saw
the boy enter the theater and hand me this note. Your interest was
aroused, but I only told you that I was summoned in haste to my
lady's apartments, and begged you to come with me--"
"And I thought her ladyship was perhaps ill, and needed experienced
help, or I should certainly not have followed your lordship into
this room," said Mrs. MacDonald, who, however, made no motion to
withdraw.
Mrs. Dugald's insulting laugh rang through the room.
"I beg pardon, madam; I know this is not a pleasant scene for a lady
to take part in, but I needed witnesses, and necessity has no law.
If you will permit me, I will read the note I received," said the
viscount, with a diabolical sneer, as he unfolded the paper. He read
as follows:
"'It is a' as your lairdship suspicioned. If your lairdship will
come your ways hame at ance, you will find the sinful pair in me
leddy's boudoir.'"
The note had neither name nor date.
"You know," pursued Lord Vincent, "that we hurried home; you saw me
speak aside with Cuthbert in the hall; in that short interview he
informed me that he had remained upon the watch, and that the
villain had not yet left Lady Vincent's apartments; that he was
still within them!"
"Oh, Cuthbert! I believed you to be an honest old man! It is awful
to find you in league with these wretches!" exclaimed Claudia, in
sorrowful indignation.
"Ou, me leddy! I'd rather these auld limbs o' mine had been streaket
in death, ere I had to use them in siccan uncanny wark! But the
Lord's will be dune!" groaned the old man, is such sincere grief
that Claudia was thoroughly perplexed.
And all this time the viscount was continuing his cool, devlish
monologue.
"It was for this reason, ladies, that I burst open the door and
called you in; and it was to prevent the escape of the fellow that I
placed Cuthbert on guard at the door. Now, my lady, that you
understand the cause of the 'violence' of which you just now
complained, you will please to permit me to search the room. You
cannot complain that I have acted with unseemly haste. I have
proceeded with great deliberation. In fact, your accomplice has had
abundant time to escape, if he had the means."
"Lord Vincent, these outrages shall cost you your life!" exclaimed
Claudia, in the low, deep, stern key of concentrated passion.
"All in good time, my lady," sneered the viscount, commencing the
humiliating search. He looked in the recess of the bay window;
peeped behind curtains; opened closets: and finally drew a large
easy-chair from the corner of the room.
"Pray, whom do you expect to find concealed in my apartment, my
lord?" demanded Claudia, white with rage.
"My respectable valet, the good Mr. Frisbie. And here he is!"
replied the viscount sarcastically.
And to Claudia's horror and amazement he drew the trembling wretch
from his concealment and hurled him into the center of the room,
where he stood with dangling arms and bending legs, pale and
quaking, but whether with real or assumed fear Claudia could not
tell.
"How came this fellow in my room?" she demanded, in consternation.
"Aye, sure enough! how did he come here?" sneered Lord Vincent.
Mrs. Dugald laughed.
Mrs. MacDonald raised both her hands in horror.
"Come! perhaps he'll tell us why he came here! Confess, you
scoundrel! Say what brought you here!" exclaimed the viscount,
suddenly changing his tone from cool irony to burning rage, as he
seized and shook his valet.
"Oh, my lord, I will! I will! only let go my collar!" gasped the
man, shaking or affecting to shake.
"Confess, then, you rascal! What brought you here?"
"Oh, my lord, mercy! mercy! I will confess! I will!"
"Do it, then, you villain!"
"Oh, my lord, I--I come--at--at my lady's invitation, my lord!"
"You came at Lady Vincent's invitation?" cried the viscount, shaking
the speaker.
"Y-y-yes, my lord!" stammered the valet.
"You--came--at my invitation?" demanded Lady Vincent haughtily,
fixing her eyes of fire on the creatures's dace.
"Yes, my lady, you know I did! It is no use for us to deny it now!
Ah, my lady, I alwasy warned you that we should be found out, and
now sure enough we are!" replied Frisbie.
Claudia clasped her hands and raised her eyes to Heaven with the
look of one who would have called down fire upon the heads of these
fiends in human form.
Lord Vincent continued to question his valet.
"Does Lady Vincent makes a practice of inviting you to her
apartments?"
"Y-y-yes, my lord!"
"How often?"
"Wh-wh-whenever your lordship's abscence seems to make it safe."
"Then I am to understand that you are a favored suitor of Lady
Vincent's?"
"Yes, yes, my lord! Oh, my lord, I know I have done very wrong. I
know I--"
"Do you know that you deserve death, sir?" demanded the viscount, in
a voice of thunder.
"Oh, my lord, mercy! mercy! I know I am a great sinner! I could kill
myself for it, if it wasn't for fear of losing my soul! All I can do
now is to repent and confess! I do repent from the bottom of my
heart; and I will confess everything! Yes, I will tell your lordship
all about it and throw myself on your lordship's mercy! cried this
remorseless villain.
"Enough! I wish to hear no more from you just at present. Your
confession would be scarcely fir for the ears of these ladies. your
testimony must be reserved for a future occasion," said the viscont.
And then turning to Claudia with the coolest and most insulting
hauteur, he said:
"And now! what have you to say to all this, my lady?"
Claudia advanced into the center of the room; her step was firm; her
head erect; her cheeks burning; her eyes blazing; her whole form
dilated and lifted to grandeur; she looked a very Nemesis--a very
Goddess of Retribute Justice, as throwing her consuming glance
around upon the group, who fairly quailed before her, she said:
"What have 'I to say to all this'? I say, Lord Vincent, be assured
that you shall die for these insults! I say that I know this to be a
foul conspiracy against my honor, and as feeble as it is foul! Oh,
reptiles! base, venomous reptiles! Do you really suppose that the
honor of a pure woman is of such a weak and sickly nature as to be
destroyed by the poison of your calumnies? Fools! I shall leave this
place for London tomorrow! I shall go at once to the American
Legation and see our American minister, who is an old friend of my
father. I will tell him all that has taken place and come to my
knowledge, since I have lived under this accursed and polluted roof.
I will advise with him as to the best measures to be taken for the
discovery of my poor old servant, Katie, and for the unmasking and
prosecuting to conviction the wretches who have conspired against my
honor. What! I am the daughter of Randolph Merlin! The blood of an
Indian king, who never spared a foe, burns along my veins! Take
heed--beware--escape while you may! My lord, your fate shall find
you, even though it follow you to the farthest ends of the earth!
You are warned! And now, as a few moments since, my request that you
would withdraw your accomplices from the room was disregarded, I
must retire to my chamber."
And with the air and manner of an outraged queen, Claudia left the
boudoir.
"Friends," said Lord Vincent, turning to his female companions,
"your testimony will be hereafter required in this case. I beg you,
therefore, in the name of justice, to make a mental note of what you
have seen and heard to-night. Remember Lady Vincent's strange
conduct in declining to accompany us to the theater and resolving to
stay at home; remember the note that was brought me in my box and
our unexpected return home; remember particularly that the door
leading into Lady Vincent's apartments was fastened on the inside,
and that I had to break it open; remember also that we found the
wretch, Frisbie, concealed in the room, and that he made a full
confession."
"It is not likely that we shall forget it, my lord!" said Mrs.
MacDonald gravely.
"No! what horror!" cried Mrs. Dugald.
"And now, ladies, I will no longer detain you from your necessary
rest," said the viscount, ringing the bell, which the housekeeper,
looking amazed, scandalized, and full of curiosity, answered.
"Murdock, show this lady, Mrs. MacDonald, to the blue suite of
rooms, and place yourself at her service. Madam, pray order any
refreshments you may require. Good-night, madam. Sister, good-
night!"
"Good-night! good-night, my lord! I shall pray that you shall be
able to bear this great misfortune with the fortitude becoming a
man," said Mrs. MacDonald.
"Good-night, brother!" said Mrs. Dugald.
When the "ladies," attended by the housekeeper, had left the room
and were quite out of hearing, Lord Vincent turned to his accomplice
and whispered:
"You did that capitally, Frisbie. You would make an excellent actor.
Anyone on earth, looking at you this evening and not knowing the
truth, would have thought you were dying of mortification and
terror--you shook and faltered so naturally."
"Oh, my lord!" returned the valet, in modest deprecation of this
praise.
"You did; but now I wish you to tell me. How did you manage to
awaken the suspicions of old Cuthbert? How did you manage to draw
his eyes upon you--and draw him on to watch you until you entered
the room without seeming to know that you were watched?"
"I tell you, my lord, that part of my task was hard. But I contrived
to do it by pretending to watch him, and affecting to dodge out of
sight every time he saw me. This excited his curiosity, and caused
him to conceal himself in order to watch me. When I knew that he had
done this, I began to creep towards my lady's apartments, knowing
full well that he was stealing after me."
"But how did you contrive to get into the boudoir?"
"I wore list slippers, and your lordship knows that the thick
carpets return no echo to the footstep, and that the doors open and
shut silently. First I peeped through the keyhole, and I saw that
her ladyship was sitting within the curtained recess of the hay
window, looking out at sea, her attention being absorbed there, and
her back being towards the door. So I just softly opened the door,
entered the room, closing it after me and concealed myself behind
your lordship's own great easy-chair, that I knew was never drawn
from its dark corner,"
"For the good reason that the owner is never there to occupy it,"
sneered the viscount.
"Just so, my lord. And now I have told your lordship exactly how I
managed matters, so as to make old Cuthbert our accomplice without
his ever suspecting it."
"Old Cuthbert must think you a grand rascal."
"He does me great honor, your lordship."
"There! now go about your business, Frisbie. Of course you must get
away from here by the morning's first light. It must be supposed
that you have been kicked out. Remain in the neighborhood of Banff.
You will be wanted as a witness."
"Yes, my lord; but in the meantime-I have saved nothing. I have no
means."
"Oh, you mercenary rascal! You have saved your neck from the
gallows, if you have saved nothing else. But here are ten pounds for
present needs; and I will take care not to see you want for the
future. Now be off with you. Your longer stay will excite surprise
and conjecture."
"Your lordship is too good!" said the caitiff, bowing himself out.
Lord Vincent soon after left the boudoir and went downstairs. In the
hall he found old Cuthbert up and waiting.
"You here yet, Cuthbert? Why don't you go to bed?"
"Ou, me laird, I couldna sleep wi' the thought o' siccan dishonor
befa'ing the house!" groaned the old man.
"The dishonor attaches but to one person, and the house will be rid
of it when she is cast forth," said the viscount.
"Ou, me laird! for pity, dinna do that! Send her ways back to her
ain countrie. She's but a wee bit lassie after a'! And she's awa'
fra fayther and mither, and a' her folk! And 'deed I canna bring
mysel' to think that ill o' her, neither! 'deed no!"
"Cuthbert, are you out of your senses? What are you talking about?
The man was found concealed in her room, and being discovered,
confessed his guilt," said Lord Vincent.
"Aye, me laird, but she denied all knowledge of him; and she looked
grand wi' the majesty of truth, me laird. Folk dinna look that way
when they're leeing. And the lad Frisbie looked just as if he were
leeing. Folk dinna look as he looked when they're telling the
truth."
"Cuthbert, you are an old dolt! We do not depend on Frisbie's word,
exclusively. We have the fact of finding him in the room."
"I misdoubt he e'en just hid himsel' in there for the purpose of
robbery, unbeknownst to the leddy. And then cast the blame on her to
help to shield himsel', the villain!"
"Cuthbert, you are in your dotage!" exclaimed the viscount angrily.
"It may be sae, my laird; but I canna think shame o' the leddy! Nay,
I canna! Howbeit! richt or wrong, the shame has come till her. Sae,
me laird, in marcy take an auld man's counsel, and e'en just gie her
her dower, and send her her ways to her feyther's house."
"Cuthbert, your brain is softening. Hark ye! Get yourself off to
bed."
"Aye, me laird," said the old man meekly, as he withdrew to his den;
"but I canna think sin o' the leddy! nay, nay, I canna!"
When all the house was still Lord Vincent stole to the apartments of
Mrs. Dugald.
"Oh! I have been waiting for you so long and so impatiently," she
said, as she placed him a chair at her dressing-room fireside.
"I came as soon as all was quiet. Oh, Faustina, how I am sinking my
soul in sin and infamy for your sake!" exclaimed Lord Vincent, as a
momentary qualm of shame sickened his heart.
"Do you repent it, then?" she inquired, with a glance that brought
him to her feet, a slave once more, "do you repent it?"
"No, my angel, no! though we go to perdition, we go together! And it
is joy and glory to lose myself for you--for you!" he exclaimed
passionately, and attempting to embrace her.
"Ha! stop! beware! You are not free yet--nor am I your wife!"
exclaimed the artful woman, withdrawing herself from his advances.
"But I shall be free soon, and you shall be my wife. You know it,
Faustina. You know that I am your slave. You can do with me as you
please. Then why be so cruel as to refuse me even one kiss?"
"That I may have nothing to reproach myself with in after time--when
I shall be Lady Vincent. That you may not have to blush for your
second viscountess, as you have had to blush for your first."
"Oh, Faustina, how coldly cruel and calculating you sometimes seem
to me! Why do I love you so insanely that you possess my very soul?
Why is it, beautiful witch?"
"Because I love you so much, mon ami."
"You do, you do! You really love me, 'Tina?"
"Oh, I do! You know I do! more than life!"
"Then let Satan have me after death! I do not care!" replied this
desperate fool.
"Hush! this is a dangerous topic. It makes me reel. Give me a glass
of water, Malcolm, and let us talk of something else," said the wily
siren.
When she had drunk the water the viscount brought her she said:
"There is a question I have been dying to ask you all day, but I
could get no good chance without the risk of being overheard--and
that would have been ruin."
"What is the question, Faustina?"
The woman turned so deadly white that her black eyes gleamed like
great balls of jet from a face of stone, as sinking her voice to the
lowest key, she said:
"What have you done with it?"
"With what, Faustina?"
"With the dead body of the black woman?"
The viscount slowly lowered his finger and significantly pointed
downward.
"Down there?" whispered Faustina.
The viscount nodded.
"Where we left it?"
"Yes."
"Oh, but that is not safe. There is suspicion. Suppose there should
be a search; suppose there should be a discovery?" cried the woman
in alarm. For she, who was not afraid of committing the worst
crimes, was terribly afraid of meeting their consequences.
"Be at ease. I shall not leave her there long; the sea is near at
hand," whispered the viscount.
"Yes, you may cast her into the sea; but the sea sometimes casts
back its dead--especially when they have been murdered," shuddered
the woman.
"The sea will not cast her back," said the viscount significantly.
"Oh. you will tie a heavy weight to her body! But when will you do
it? Oh, I am in agony, until that is removed!"
"Be still! I hope to have an opportunity of removing it tonight."
"But you cannot do it alone. Let me help you. I would rather help
you."
"No, I can and will do it without your help. Do you think, my angel,
that I would permit you to engage in such dreadful work?"
"I helped you to stop her breath," said the woman hoarsely.
"That was a work of necessity that presented itself suddenly before
us. This is different."
"But I would rather help. I would rather be present. I would rather
see, for then I should know to a certainty that it was gone," she
insisted.
"Can you not trust me?"
"No, no, I cannot trust anyone when my head is in danger of the
guillotine."
"I tell you there are no guillotines in England."
"The other thing, then, which is worse, because it is more
disgraceful. Hanging by the neck until one is dead! Ugh! No, I
cannot trust you, Malcolm, where so much is at stake," said the
woman, with a terrible shudder.
"You have no confidence in me then? And yet you say you love me.
Why, confidence is the very soul of love."
"Oh, yes, I love you, Malcolm. I love you more than words can tell.
And it is for your safety as well as for my own that I am so
cautious. And I have confidence in you, Malcolm. Only, being alone,
you may not be able to do the work effectually. I must help you. The
house is all still; everybody has retired; can we not go now and
remove it?"
"No, not now; there is a vessel lying at anchor close under the
shore. We must wait until she moves off."
"And the vessel may lay there a whole week. And in the meantime what
becomes of the body?" exclaimed Faustina, her eyes wild with
apprehension.
"I am assured by those who know, that the vessel will sail with the
first tide to-morrow morning. So be tranquil. And now, Faustina,
there is another subject which we must settle to-night. Lady Vincent
leaves the castle early to-morrow morning. That is necessary; and
though it cleaves my heart in two to part with you, I must do it for
a season. The world must have no cause to talk of you and me,
Faustina; of you, especially, for of you it would be the most likely
to talk."
"Why of me?" inquired the ex-opera singer testily.
"Because, my dearest, you have more beauty and genius and fame than
the world ever forgives in a woman," answered the viscount artfully.
"Oh!" said the siren, with an air of arch incredulity.
"And now, Faustina, it shall be for you to decide. Shall you remain
here, with Mrs. MacDonald for a companion and chaperon, while I go
to London to take the preliminary steps towards the divorce; or
shall you go to Brighton or Torquay, or any other watering-place on
the South Coast?"
Mrs. Dugald was very astute; she answered promptly:
"Oh, I will remain here. And then you will not be jealous. There is
no one here to admire me except Mrs. MacDonald and old Cuthbert and
Murdock."
"Bless you! Bless you! I do believe you love me because you
anticipate my wishes so readily," said this devotee fervently.
"And now you must go, and say good-night! It is two o'clock in the
morning and I am tired to death. And mind about that below, you
know. And the first safe opportunity you have, come to me to help
you remove it. Mind!" said Faustina, raising her finger.
"I will mind. Good-night! What, no kiss, even for good-night?" he
said, as she recoiled from his offered salute.
"No. I reserve my kisses for my husband," she answered archly. Thus
this evil woman, steeped to the lips in sin, affected the prude with
the man she wished to secure. And while making and receiving the
most ardent protestations of love, disallowed the very slightest
caress.
The viscount, baffled and dissatisfied, but more determined than
ever to marry this tantalizing beauty, left the room and retired to
his own chamber.
Mr. Frisbie's work was over there, and Mr. Frisbie himself was
absent, of course.