Aline was so indignant at the gentle force Mr. Delaney had used in
compelling her to swallow the physician’s prescription that she angrily
resolved not to submit to its influence, but to lie awake in spite of
it, and bemoan her hard fate, in being thus cruelly separated from
home and friends. She indulged herself for a little while in the most
vehement sobs and tears, reckless of the injury she was doing herself
in her feverish condition, and willfully intent on making herself as
disagreeable as possible to her hard-hearted jailers.
But the potent drug she had unwillingly taken was stronger than her
will. The lids fell lower and lower over the heavy, tearful eyes, her
moans grew fainter and fainter, until at last they ceased altogether,
the dark lashes drooped upon the warm, flushed cheeks, and she fell
asleep like a grieved child, sighing now and then in her slumber, and
tossing restlessly, as if her sorrow had followed her even into the
land of dreams.
Mrs. Griffin remained on guard by her side a patient, untiring watcher,
like one accustomed to such nightly vigils, until the brief summer
night passed away and the “gray-eyed morn” peered in through the close
drawn shutters upon the beautiful girl who still remained wrapped in
deep, unbroken slumber.
The grim, careful nurse looked at the fair, sleeping face from time to
time with irrepressible admiration. She contrasted it, in fancy, with
a monstrous face on which she was compelled to gaze daily, and she
shuddered at the difference.
“She is as beautiful as an angel. How terrible it would have been if
that devil had murdered her!” she thought.
She left the room after awhile, and locked the door after her,
remaining absent nearly two hours. When she returned with a light,
appetizing breakfast arranged upon a tray, Aline was awake and gazing
dreamily around her at the unaccustomed room.
“You feel better after your sleep, I hope, Miss Rodney, do you not?”
she inquired, and Aline was obliged to admit that she did, feeling half
ashamed at the petulance she had displayed before falling asleep.
She found that, in spite of her painful wound and her anxiety, she had
a very fair appetite for breakfast. She determined that she would get
well, as fast as she could, in order to leave this dreadful house and
return to her home. She wondered anxiously what poor mamma would say to
this last new adventure of hers, more terrible than all the rest. She
would not punish her by anger and blame and coldness, surely. Had she
not already suffered enough?
Poor Aline thought that she was well cured now of her mischievous
propensities. After this she would never indulge her willful,
thoughtless desires again. She would be as prim and perfect as her
sister Effie, whom now she heartily reproached herself for having
called a “starched-up old maid.”
When she went home again she would beg Effie’s pardon, she was resolved
upon that. They would be so frightened, so glad to have her back, they
would forgive her for all her wildness and carelessness in the past if
she promised never, never to do so again.
She lay musing in this wise, remorsefully, when she was suddenly
startled from her castle building by a repetition of the terrible
shrieks of the day before. The awful sounds woke all the sleeping
echoes of the place into dreadful concert. Aline screamed aloud in
nervous terror and hid her face in the bed-clothes.
Mrs. Griffin bent hurriedly over her.
“Do not be frightened, my child,” she said. “I am compelled to leave
you for a little while. But I shall lock your door securely. No harm
shall come to you again.”
She went away, and even though Aline heard the bolt turned carefully
in the lock and the key drawn out, she felt terribly afraid that that
hideous creature who had assailed her on yesterday, would gain access
to her again and complete its murderous work. The cold dews of anguish
beaded her white brow as she lay there alone in the beautiful azure
room, listening to those wild, unearthly screams. She was afraid to
look out from behind the shelter of the silken cover where she had
hidden her eyes, fearful that they might be blasted by the sight of the
_thing_ that had appeared to her in the parlor yesterday.
She thought of the simple cottage home where papa and mamma and Effie
and Max were even now bewailing her loss, perhaps, and her heart
swelled with passionate longing and regret. Ah, only to be with them
again in the safe shelter of home and love!
The key clicked softly in the lock again. This time Mr. Delaney
entered. He looked very pale and grave, but he carried a delicate
basket of fresh flowers in his hand that filled the room with sweetness
and beauty. He drew the silken cover gently away from Aline’s face.
“Poor child, are you so frightened?” he said, compassionately. “Look
up. The cries are hushed now. There is nothing for you to fear.”