During the week that followed, the words that Dorothy had heard in her
dream constantly recurred to her.
At first she fought against the feeling that seemed to be forced upon
her.
She cried out to herself that Jessie must live; but with that thought
always came the one that, if Jessie recovered, it would mean the
downfall of all her own future happiness.
At last her growing love for Jack Garner conquered her. She yielded to
it. It was like the intoxication of rare wine, of sweet, subtle perfume,
until at last, in secret, she confessed to herself that she loved him.
She thought of nothing but that she loved Jack with all the strength and
fervor of her despairing soul, and the only barrier between them
was--Jessie.
To make matters all the worse, the sick girl made a confidante of her,
and would talk to her for long hours at a time over her approaching
marriage--that is, if she should recover.
Every word she said was like the sharp thrust of a sword to Dorothy; but
day by day Dorothy could not help but notice the terrible change that
was taking place in Jessie Staples.
Every afternoon her couch was drawn to the bay-window. She liked to be
propped up where she could look out into the sunlit garden, with its
green foliage and bright-hued flowers; for it was in the garden that
Jack could be seen, pacing up and down under the trees, smoking his
afternoon cigar.
She would always call for Jack when she saw him, and when he came into
the room she would hold out her arms to him with a strange, low cry.
He would always kneel down by her side, talk to her, try to cheer her.
Sleep would never come to her unless he sat by her side, holding her
hands in his.
It was with great relief that Mr. Garner heard at length that Doctor
Crandall was so much better that he would visit Jessie the next
afternoon.
When he came Doctor Kendal took him at once to the sick-room, and there
they held a long and secret consultation.
"I am obliged to say, sir, that I shall have to abandon the case," said
Kendal. "I am completely dumbfounded with it. I have most carefully
followed out your every suggestion, and yet the patient fails rapidly
before my eyes day after day."
Doctor Crandall looked thoughtful.
When he left Jessie's couch he found Mr. Garner awaiting him in the
library.
"What do you think of her, sir?" he asked, quickly.
"There is not much the matter," he replied; "a good tonic, rest, and a
little cheerful society will soon set the young lady right again."
"It is the first time that you have seen her, doctor," said Jack, rather
dubiously. "You never saw her in health, sir. You do not know how
alarmingly she has changed for the worse. She had a brilliant color, but
it has all gone."
"It will soon return," said the doctor, encouragingly; and with a few
further words he left Jack, more mystified than ever.
For forty odd years he had enjoyed a large practice, but in all that
time he had never had a case exactly like this.
He made up his mind then and there that there was something about this
case which was beyond him--there was something about it that he could
not fathom, that was shrouded in mystery.
He wired without delay, an urgent message to an eminent physician with
whom he was on excellent terms. It was almost midnight when Doctor
Schimpf arrived at the Garner mansion.
His friend, Doctor Crandall, was awaiting him, and together they made
their way at once to the sick-room.
"This is an urgent case, I suppose," said Doctor Schimpf.
"I am afraid so," was the reply. "You will be able to judge when you see
the patient."
Doctor Schimpf's stern face grew sterner still as he made his
examination of poor Jessie. Then the doctors quitted the room and
commenced their consultation.
Nadine Holt looked after them with a strange smile on her face, her
black eyes glittering.
"Well," said Doctor Crandall, "I wonder if we both have the same opinion
in regard to this case."
"It can admit of but one," returned Doctor Schimpf, with a shake of his
head.
"And that is?"
"It is a case of slow poisoning," was the answer.
Doctor Crandall grasped his friend's hand.
"That was my view exactly," he said, huskily.
"There is but one way to proceed," returned Doctor Schimpf: "we must set
a watch upon the inmates of the sick-room, and discover who is the
perpetrator of this awful crime; and in the meantime make minute
inquiries if there is any one under this roof who would be likely to be
benefited by this poor girl's death. I propose that we proceed without
an hour's delay."
"Agreed!" returned the other, promptly. "And I would suggest, as well,
that a woman be secured, if possible, to undertake this task of
ferreting out who is responsible for this awful crime that will soon
terminate fatally if not nipped in the bud."
The next morning a young colored girl duly presented herself at the
Garner mansion.
"I have brought you an assistant," said Doctor Crandall, leading her
into the presence of Dorothy and Nadine Holt, and bowing to each in
turn. "She is to obey your orders implicitly, and wait upon you. The
medicines we have left are of an extremely pungent odor, and likely to
overcome a person unused to them. She can attend to mixing the
preparations for you, if you both consider her competent to do so, which
you can tell after a short trial;" adding, besides: "One drop of this
stains the hands, and it can not be got off for months. I thought this
might be sufficient reason for placing this young girl at your
disposal."
"You are very thoughtful, sir," said Nadine Holt, sweetly; but Dorothy
spoke never a word.
Both doctors turned and looked keenly at her; then the conversation
drifted quickly into another channel; but both had made up their minds
that this boded no good for the slender, dark-looking woman with the
blue glasses who hovered continually about the sick girl's couch.
As the doctors were leaving, under guise of giving a few words of
instruction to Myra, the mulatto girl, they whispered hurriedly in her
ear.
"I understand," she answered, with a nod of her head. "Nothing shall
escape my eye."
The next day Doctor Crandall made minute inquiries regarding every
member of the household, and every addition that had been made to it for
the past few months; and he learned, casually, that the only person
under that roof with whose history the Garners were not thoroughly
acquainted was--Mrs. Brown.
Furthermore, he discovered that she had secured the place without proper
recommendations. This he considered a serious affair. He was quite
willing to give her the benefit of a doubt; still, it was too grave a
matter of which he had charge. Every moment of time wasted in
discovering the perpetrator of the awful crime was dangerous to Miss
Staples, his beautiful patient, exposed to such deadly peril.
All unmindful of the espionage placed upon her, Dorothy went about her
duties in the same faithful manner.
In the morning she read to and amused old Mrs. Garner. In the afternoon
she attended to all the duties of the household; for in the midst of
their difficulties their housekeeper had left them.
In the evening she relieved Nadine Holt from her arduous duties in the
sick-room.
The only gleam of brightness that fell athwart her path was meeting Jack
Garner at the table three times a day. Her life merged into one great
longing to be near him.
She tried to picture how it would be when Jessie recovered and he should
marry her. Of course, they would still dwell beneath that roof. Could
the same home that held them hold her?
She could not endure seeing them so happy in each other's love. Whenever
Jack entered the sick-room, Dorothy always made some pretense to leave
it.
The sight of him bringing a flower to Jessie would be enough to almost
break her heart with poignant grief.
She could not help but notice how handsome he was growing day by day.
Oh, what would she not have given for just one of the kindly words he
used to speak to her, a tender look, a caress!