|Lady Thicknesse and Scrope Danvers were in the breakfast-room when the
others came in, and her ladyship said to them, “I am very sorry Mrs.
Calverley will not be able to make her appearance at breakfast, this
morning.”
“I hope she is not unwell,” remarked Lord Courland.
“She is not very well,” replied her ladyship. “But she wishes to confer
with Doctor Spencer. He has been sent for to attend Miss Calverley, who
has been taken ill during the night.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Captain Danvers, anxiously. “She seemed quite well,
and in excellent spirits last evening.”
“Perhaps she took cold,” observed Lady Thicknesse. “I fear we remained
out rather too late. Only think of my dancing Sir Roger de Coverley in
the open air! If I had been laid up, like Mildred, you would have been
to blame,” she added, to Sir Bridgnorth.
“But your ladyship is looking better than ever,” he rejoined gallantly.
“You ought therefore to thank me.”
“Well, I don't think I'm the worse for it, and I certainly enjoyed the
dance very much.”
Breakfast was then served and Lady Thicknesse presided at the table.
She took care to have Sir Bridgnorth beside her, and they seemed the
most cheerful persons present, for the absence of the three other ladies
cast a gloom over the rest of the party.
Meanwhile Doctor Spencer was with Mrs. Calverley in her dressing-room,
she having given orders that he should be brought there immediately on
his arrival.
An elderly man, with white hair, jetty eyebrows and black eyes. The
expression of his countenance was kindly and composed, his accents
agreeable, and his manner singularly pleasing. All his patients liked
him.
Mrs. Calverley had been a great favourite with the doctor, and he had
hitherto had a very high opinion of her, founded not only upon his own
notion of her character, but on the praises bestowed upon her by her
late husband.
She thought his manner less cordial than it used to be, but she was so
troubled she could scarcely judge.
“I am very sorry Miss Calverley is ill,” he said, taking a seat. “What is
the matter with her?”
“I can't exactly tell,” she rejoined. “I have not yet seen her this
morning. We were all dancing on the lawn rather late last evening, and
she may have taken cold.”
“Dancing on the lawn!” exclaimed Doctor Spencer shaking his head. “That
was imprudent. Mildred is delicate. She has got a chill, I suppose?”
“I can't tell. Her maid came to me in the middle of the night, and said
Miss Calverley felt very sick and ill, so I sent her a restorative. She
took a few drops of _eau de luce_, as I understood, and I thought she
was better, for I heard nothing more till the morning, when I learnt
that the sickness was not gone, so I sent for you.”
During this explanation, Doctor Spencer kept his eye fixed on Mrs.
Calverley in a manner she did not like.
“This is not a feverish cold, as I thought,” he observed. “But I shall
be better able to judge when I see her.”
“Emmeline Barfleur and their maid occupy the same room with her, so she
has had plenty of attendance. I should have gone to her if she had been
alone.”
At this moment a tap was heard at the door, and Emmeline came in.
She looked very much frightened, and said, hastily:
“Pray come and see Miss Calverley at once, Doctor Spencer! She has just
fainted!”
Doctor Spencer instantly prepared to obey.
“Take these restoratives with you,” said Mrs. Calverley, giving him
several small bottles; “and come back to me when you have seen her.”
“I will,” replied the doctor, as he followed Emmeline.
Some little time elapsed before Doctor Spencer appeared again.
To the guilty woman, who awaited her sentence, it was an interval of
intense anxiety; but she endeavoured to maintain her calmness, fearing
to betray herself.
Thinking she ought to be employed, she sat down to write a letter, but
had not got very far with it when Doctor Spencer came into the room.
Closing the door after him, he fixed a strange and searching glance upon
her, and so terrified her by his looks that she could not speak, nor did
he break the silence.
At length, she gave utterance to these words:
“I am afraid you bring bad news, doctor. Is she seriously ill?”
“She is,” he replied, sternly. “But I think I shall be able to save
her.”
“What ails her?” inquired Mrs. Calverley.
“Have you no idea?”
“None whatever,” she replied, looking perplexed.
“Poison has been administered to her!”
“Impossible!” she exclaimed.
“I cannot be deceived!” said Doctor Spencer. “The attempt has been
twice made. In each instance the dose was, fortunately, too small to be
fatal.”
The slight nervous tremour that agitated Mrs. Calverley was not
unnoticed by the doctor.
“This is a terrible accusation to make!” she said.
“But it can be easily substantiated,” he rejoined. “Indeed, it would be
difficult to conceal the evidence of the crime!”
“On whom do your suspicions alight, doctor?” asked Mrs. Calverley, as
firmly as she could. “On any one in attendance upon her?”
“One of them has been an unconscious instrument,” he replied. “But the
hand that really provided the poison was elsewhere.”
After a short pause, he added, in a stern tone:
“Madam, yours is the hand by which the deed has been done!”
“Mine!” she exclaimed, fiercely and defiantly.
“Nay, it is useless to deny it!” he rejoined. “I have but to search this
chamber to find proof of your guilt.”
“Search it then!” she cried, in the same defiant tone.
Doctor Spencer glanced around, and his eye quickly alighted upon the
dressing-box.
“Open this box!” he cried, seizing her hand, and drawing her towards it.
“Open it, I say!” he reiterated, in a terrible voice. “There the poison
is concealed!”
So overpowered was she by his determined manner, that she did not dare
to disobey.
Without offering the slightest resistance, she unlocked the box, and
disclosed the casket.
He uttered a cry of satisfaction on beholding it.
“Now unlock this!” he said, giving her the casket.
Again she obeyed; but instantly took forth a phial containing the
poison, and would have swallowed its contents, had not Doctor Spencer
snatched it from her.
“Why do you treat me thus cruelly?” she cried. “Why not let me die?”
“Because I desire to give you a chance of life,” he rejoined. “If your
intended victim escapes the fate you designed her, I will not denounce
you. If she dies, you know your doom!”
“Do you think she will live?” asked Teresa.
“Her life hangs on a thread. But a few days--perhaps a few hours--will
decide. For the present, I will keep your terrible secret, and screen
you from suspicion. But only on the condition that you remain here,
and abide the result of your dreadful crime. Attempt to fly, and I will
instantly check you. Now you know my fixed determination.”
“And you will remain in constant attendance on Mildred?” she asked.
“I shall,” he replied. “And rest assured I shall do my best to save
her.”
With this he left the room, taking the phial with him.