IV

TO all appearances, things went on as usual for a week or two. The only

difference was that Mr. Brympton stayed on, instead of going off as he

usually did, and that Mr. Ranford never showed himself. I heard Mr.

Brympton remark on this one afternoon when he was sitting in my

mistress's room before dinner.

"Where's Ranford?" says he. "He hasn't been near the house for a week.

Does he keep away because I'm here?"

Mrs. Brympton spoke so low that I couldn't catch her answer.

"Well," he went on, "two's company and three's trumpery; I'm sorry to

be in Ranford's way, and I suppose I shall have to take myself off

again in a day or two and give him a show." And he laughed at his own

joke.

The very next day, as it happened, Mr. Ranford called. The footman said

the three were very merry over their tea in the library, and Mr.

Brympton strolled down to the gate with Mr. Ranford when he left.

I have said that things went on as usual; and so they did with the rest

of the household; but as for myself, I had never been the same since

the night my bell had rung. Night after night I used to lie awake,

listening for it to ring again, and for the door of the locked room to

open stealthily. But the bell never rang, and I heard no sound across

the passage. At last the silence began to be more dreadful to me than

the most mysterious sounds. I felt that _someone_ were cowering there,

behind the locked door, watching and listening as I watched and

listened, and I could almost have cried out, "Whoever you are, come out

and let me see you face to face, but don't lurk there and spy on me in

the darkness!"

Feeling as I did, you may wonder I didn't give warning. Once I very

nearly did so; but at the last moment something held me back. Whether

it was compassion for my mistress, who had grown more and more

dependent on me, or unwillingness to try a new place, or some other

feeling that I couldn't put a name to, I lingered on as if spell-bound,

though every night was dreadful to me, and the days but little better.

For one thing, I didn't like Mrs. Brympton's looks. She had never been

the same since that night, no more than I had. I thought she would

brighten up after Mr. Brympton left, but though she seemed easier in

her mind, her spirits didn't revive, nor her strength either. She had

grown attached to me, and seemed to like to have me about; and Agnes

told me one day that, since Emma Saxon's death, I was the only maid her

mistress had taken to. This gave me a warm feeling for the poor lady,

though after all there was little I could do to help her.

After Mr. Brympton's departure, Mr. Ranford took to coming again,

though less often than formerly. I met him once or twice in the

grounds, or in the village, and I couldn't but think there was a change

in him too; but I set it down to my disordered fancy.

The weeks passed, and Mr. Brympton had now been a month absent. We

heard he was cruising with a friend in the West Indies, and Mr. Wace

said that was a long way off, but though you had the wings of a dove

and went to the uttermost parts of the earth, you couldn't get away

from the Almighty. Agnes said that as long as he stayed away from

Brympton, the Almighty might have him and welcome; and this raised a

laugh, though Mrs. Blinder tried to look shocked, and Mr. Wace said the

bears would eat us.

We were all glad to hear that the West Indies were a long way off, and

I remember that, in spite of Mr. Wace's solemn looks, we had a very

merry dinner that day in the hall. I don't know if it was because of my

being in better spirits, but I fancied Mrs. Brympton looked better too,

and seemed more cheerful in her manner. She had been for a walk in the

morning, and after luncheon she lay down in her room, and I read aloud

to her. When she dismissed me I went to my own room feeling quite

bright and happy, and for the first time in weeks walked past the

locked door without thinking of it. As I sat down to my work I looked

out and saw a few snow-flakes falling. The sight was pleasanter than

the eternal rain, and I pictured to myself how pretty the bare gardens

would look in their white mantle. It seemed to me as if the snow would

cover up all the dreariness, indoors as well as out.

The fancy had hardly crossed my mind when I heard a step at my side. I

looked up, thinking it was Agnes.

"Well, Agnes--" said I, and the words froze on my tongue; for there, in

the door, stood Emma Saxon.

I don't know how long she stood there. I only know I couldn't stir or

take my eyes from her. Afterward I was terribly frightened, but at the

time it wasn't fear I felt, but something deeper and quieter. She

looked at me long and long, and her face was just one dumb prayer to

me--but how in the world was I to help her? Suddenly she turned, and I

heard her walk down the passage. This time I wasn't afraid to follow--I

felt that I must know what she wanted. I sprang up and ran out. She was

at the other end of the passage, and I expected her to take the turn

toward my mistress's room; but instead of that she pushed open the door

that led to the backstairs. I followed her down the stairs, and across

the passageway to the back door. The kitchen and hall were empty at

that hour, the servants being off duty, except for the footman, who was

in the pantry. At the door she stood still a moment, with another look

at me; then she turned the handle, and stepped out. For a minute I

hesitated. Where was she leading me to? The door had closed softly

after her, and I opened it and looked out, half-expecting to find that

she had disappeared. But I saw her a few yards off, hurrying across the

court-yard to the path through the woods. Her figure looked black and

lonely in the snow, and for a second my heart failed me and I thought

of turning back. But all the while she was drawing me after her; and

catching up an old shawl of Mrs. Blinder's I ran out into the open.

Emma Saxon was in the wood-path now. She walked on steadily, and I

followed at the same pace, till we passed out of the gates and reached

the high-road. Then she struck across the open fields to the village.

By this time the ground was white, and as she climbed the slope of a

bare hill ahead of me I noticed that she left no foot-prints behind

her. At sight of that, my heart shrivelled up within me, and my knees

were water. Somehow, it was worse here than indoors. She made the whole

countryside seem lonely as the grave, with none but us two in it, and

no help in the wide world.

Once I tried to go back; but she turned and looked at me, and it was as

if she had dragged me with ropes. After that I followed her like a dog.

We came to the village, and she led me through it, past the church and

the blacksmith's shop, and down the lane to Mr. Ranford's. Mr.

Ranford's house stands close to the road: a plain old-fashioned

building, with a flagged path leading to the door between box-borders.

The lane was deserted, and as I turned into it, I saw Emma Saxon pause

under the old elm by the gate. And now another fear came over me. I saw

that we had reached the end of our journey, and that it was my turn to

act. All the way from Brympton I had been asking myself what she wanted

of me, but I had followed in a trance, as it were, and not till I saw

her stop at Mr. Ranford's gate did my brain begin to clear itself. It

stood a little way off in the snow, my heart beating fit to strangle

me, and my feet frozen to the ground; and she stood under the elm and

watched me.

I knew well enough that she hadn't led me there for nothing. I felt

there was something I ought to say or do--but how was I to guess what

it was? I had never thought harm of my mistress and Mr. Ranford, but I

was sure now that, from one cause or another, some dreadful thing hung

over them. _She_ knew what it was; she would tell me if she could;

perhaps she would answer if I questioned her.

It turned me faint to think of speaking to her; but I plucked up heart

and dragged myself across the few yards between us. As I did so, I

heard the house-door open, and saw Mr. Ranford approaching. He looked

handsome and cheerful, as my mistress had looked that morning, and at

sight of him the blood began to flow again in my veins.

"Why, Hartley," said he, "what's the matter? I saw you coming down the

lane just now, and came out to see if you had taken root in the snow."

He stopped and stared at me. "What are you looking at?" he says.

I turned toward the elm as he spoke, and his eyes followed me; but

there was no one there. The lane was empty as far as the eye could

reach.

A sense of helplessness came over me. She was gone, and I had not been

able to guess what she wanted. Her last look had pierced me to the

marrow; and yet it had not told me! All at once, I felt more desolate

than when she had stood there watching me. It seemed as if she had left

me all alone to carry the weight of the secret I couldn't guess. The

snow went round me in great circles, and the ground fell away from

me....

A drop of brandy and the warmth of Mr. Ranford's fire soon brought me

to, and I insisted on being driven back at once to Brympton. It was

nearly dark, and I was afraid my mistress might be wanting me. I

explained to Mr. Ranford that I had been out for a walk and had been

taken with a fit of giddiness as I passed his gate. This was true

enough; yet I never felt more like a liar than when I said it.

When I dressed Mrs. Brympton for dinner she remarked on my pale looks

and asked what ailed me. I told her I had a headache, and she said she

would not require me again that evening, and advised me to go to bed.

It was a fact that I could scarcely keep on my feet; yet I had no fancy

to spend a solitary evening in my room. I sat downstairs in the hall as

long as I could hold my head up; but by nine I crept upstairs, too

weary to care what happened if I could but get my head on a pillow. The

rest of the household went to bed soon afterward; they kept early hours

when the master was away, and before ten I heard Mrs. Blinder's door

close, and Mr. Wace's soon after.

It was a very still night, earth and air all muffled in snow. Once in

bed I felt easier, and lay quiet, listening to the strange noises that

come out in a house after dark. Once I thought I heard a door open and

close again below: it might have been the glass door that led to the

gardens. I got up and peered out of the window; but it was in the dark

of the moon, and nothing visible outside but the streaking of snow

against the panes.

I went back to bed and must have dozed, for I jumped awake to the

furious ringing of my bell. Before my head was clear I had sprung out

of bed, and was dragging on my clothes. _It is going to happen now_, I

heard myself saying; but what I meant I had no notion. My hands seemed

to be covered with glue--I thought I should never get into my clothes.

At last I opened my door and peered down the passage. As far as my

candle-flame carried, I could see nothing unusual ahead of me. I

hurried on, breathless; but as I pushed open the baize door leading to

the main hall my heart stood still, for there at the head of the stairs

was Emma Saxon, peering dreadfully down into the darkness.

For a second I couldn't stir; but my hand slipped from the door, and as

it swung shut the figure vanished. At the same instant there came

another sound from below stairs--a stealthy mysterious sound, as of a

latch-key turning in the house-door. I ran to Mrs. Brympton's room and

knocked.

There was no answer, and I knocked again. This time I heard some one

moving in the room; the bolt slipped back and my mistress stood before

me. To my surprise I saw that she had not undressed for the night. She

gave me a startled look.

"What is this, Hartley?" she says in a whisper. "Are you ill? What are

you doing here at this hour?"

"I am not ill, madam; but my bell rang."

At that she turned pale, and seemed about to fall.

"You are mistaken," she said harshly; "I didn't ring. You must have

been dreaming." I had never heard her speak in such a tone. "Go back to

bed," she said, closing the door on me.

But as she spoke I heard sounds again in the hall below: a man's step

this time; and the truth leaped out on me.

"Madam," I said, pushing past her, "there is someone in the house--"

"Someone--?"

"Mr. Brympton, I think--I hear his step below--"

A dreadful look came over her, and without a word, she dropped flat at

my feet. I fell on my knees and tried to lift her: by the way she

breathed I saw it was no common faint. But as I raised her head there

came quick steps on the stairs and across the hall: the door was flung

open, and there stood Mr. Brympton, in his travelling-clothes, the snow

dripping from him. He drew back with a start as he saw me kneeling by

my mistress.

"What the devil is this?" he shouted. He was less high-colored than

usual, and the red spot came out on his forehead.

"Mrs. Brympton has fainted, sir," said I.

He laughed unsteadily and pushed by me. "It's a pity she didn't choose

a more convenient moment. I'm sorry to disturb her, but--"