"Stop, stop!" said Max hoarsely. "We must have no scene with that weak
woman. I will be in waiting by the park entrance of the Colosseum with
a cab at four. Meet me there. The train leaves Paddington at 4:50.
But do you hear me?"
"Yes," she said, speaking as if in a dream.
"Do you understand? At the Colosseum at four, without fail."
"Yes," said Ella again abstractedly, as he held her cold hand in his,
her face being turned towards the door.
"But mind this," he said, "this is no time for child's-play. If you are
not there soon after the time named, I must catch the train, and I dare
not wait. If you are not there, I go alone!"
"Do you think I could fail?" said Ella, turning upon him her sweet
candid countenance. "I will be there."
Was Max Bray ashamed of his face, that he held it down as he hurried
from the house? Perhaps not; but he was evidently much excited, for he
muttered half aloud, as if running over certain plans that he had
arranged for a particular end.
"Could it be right? Was it all true?" Ella asked herself, when alone
in her bedroom, with the sense of a deep unutterable misery crushing
her; and once more she read the letters she had retained.
"O yes, it was too true, too true! But what was she about to do? To
accompany the man she mistrusted, the man she dreaded? He had been
trusted, though, before now; and of late, too, his conduct had been so
different--he had even seemed to dislike her. Still, under any other
circumstances, she would not have gone; but at such a time, in answer to
such an appeal, how could she stay?"
Her brain was in a whirl, and she could not reason quietly. She only
knew now the depth of love she felt, and urged by that love, everything
else seemed little and of no import.
Hours must have passed, when, after sending twice to Mrs Marter, she
received that lady's gracious permission to wait upon her.
"I should have sent for you before long--as soon as I felt that I could
bear it, Miss Bedford," said Mrs Marter--"to demand some explanation of
your receiving visitors early in the morning without my consent. I
understand that somewhere about seven o'clock--"
"I believe the clock had struck nine," said Ella quietly.
"Seven, or eight, or nine, or ten, it's all the same!" exclaimed Mrs
Marter angrily. "Pray, Miss Bedford, what did Mr Bray want here this
morning? Was it supposed that I should not know of the visit?"
"Mr Bray came to tell me of the illness of a very dear friend," said
Ella pitifully; "and now I come to ask your consent to absent myself for
a few days."
"Of course, I might have known that that was coming! Certainly not,
Miss Bedford! And until I have communicated with Mrs Brandon, I desire
you do not leave the house. What next, I wonder?"
"Mr Bray brought me letters. It is a matter of life and death!" said
Ella earnestly. "Surely, madam, in such a case you will not refuse me?"
"And pray who is it that is ill?" said Mrs Marter sneeringly.
Ella was silent. She could not have spoken then, in spite of every
effort, even to have saved her life.
"I can see through it all! I am not blind!" exclaimed Mrs Marter. "I
shall certainly not give my consent, Miss Bedford. It is a planned
affair, and I have been deceived. Now leave the room."
Ella would have spoken, but she felt that it would have been without
avail; and hurrying out, she once more sought her own chamber.
What did Mrs Marter mean? What was planned? Impossible! She had the
proof in those letters. And once more she read them with beating heart
before asking herself whether she would be doing right or wrong.
What had she promised? To meet Max Bray at four--to trust herself to
his guidance. What had she to fear? Surely scheming baseness could
never go so low! But it was absurd! She had those letters, and did she
not know the handwriting?
She examined her purse. The store was slender, but not so small as of
old. Then she prepared a few necessaries in a small travelling-bag
before referring again and again to the time, which seemed to lag slowly
by, as she pictured scene after scene of misery and death, till she
seated herself at a table, and rested her aching throbbing brow upon her
hands.
About two o'clock a message came from Mrs Marter to know why she did
not attend the young ladies' dinner; when, starting up, she descended,
matters of the present having quite escaped her in the rush of terrible
thoughts which swept through her brain.
She went through her duties mechanically, hurrying back as soon as she
possibly could to her room, and dressed for a journey; when standing,
bag in hand, ready, and waiting for the appointed hour, now very near at
hand, a strange nervous dread began to oppress her--a cold shivering
sense of evil, which made her hands feel damp and cold, and her lips
hot, parched, and dry.
Twenty times over she was about to tear off her things and give up, but
her hand seemed to go mechanically to her breast, when a touch of those
letters strengthened her resolve. She felt then that she must go--
something was drawing her that she could not resist. But again began
the shrinking, and each time to be struggled with till the dread was
beaten; and at last, waking from a wild, nervous, excited struggle
between strength and indecision, Ella found that the hour was long past,
and, bag in hand, she fled down the stairs.
"Miss Bedford--Miss Bedford!" screamed a passionate voice as she passed
the drawing-room. But, with face pale and eyes fixed, Ella seemed to be
walking in her sleep, or labouring under the stupor produced by some
narcotic; for she passed on, heedless of the call--one hand holding the
travelling-bag, the other clasping the letters, which acted as a
talisman to nerve her in each sore time of shrinking.
The poison was working well. But in the passage she stayed for an
instant, hesitating. What step was she taking? Where would this end?
A cold shudder passed through her; but once more she was drawn on
against her will, her better sense, and the powers that should have
withheld her.
Another moment and her hand was on the fastening of the door; and for
the last time she paused, hung back for an instant, and would have
returned, when her hand again pressed the letters. She uttered a feeble
wailing cry as her lips formed a name, and then, opening the door, she
stood upon the steps as if hesitating; but the portal swung to, and
fastened itself with a loud snap; and fully feeling now that she had
taken the step, she drew down her veil and hurried over the distance
that lay between her and the Colosseum, suffering from a new dread.
The step taken, she felt now nerved for any contingency, and recalling
Max Bray's words, she reproached herself for her delay.
What had he said? If she were not there, he would go alone!
She almost ran now over the pathway till she caught sight of a cab.
Was that the one, or had he gone? Was she too late?
Yes, she was too late, she told herself, for he was not there; but the
next moment, giddy with excitement, she felt her hand seized, the bag
taken from her, the banging of a cab-door; when, as a voice exclaimed,
"At last!" there was a noise of wheels, and she felt that she was being
hurried through the streets.
Volume 3, Chapter XVI.