"It's only a post-hypnotic suggestion, that's all. You must defeat it."
Then she literally shook herself free from the obsession. "Oh, why am I
tortured and racked so!" she exclaimed. "Can't I be permitted to be
myself when I _am_ myself? Isn't it bad enough to be robbed of myself
half the time without his imposing his will on me now? Why is he doing
this?"
"That's just what I want to find out," I said. "The important thing is
not to give in to him. His experiments may possibly be justified, but I
don't think so. We certainly have good ground to suspect him. Have you
quite got over your desire to telephone?"
"Yes--but it's queer--I can still think of reasons why I might, though
of course I agree with you that it's not best to. You see, I've only
given up to you instead of to him. I'm quite in the dark, now; I seem
to have no will of my own. I can't judge, I can't understand even my
own impulses. Well, if I'm blind you and Leah will lead me, won't you?"
She reached over and took Leah's hand affectionately.
When we finished breakfast, Joy and I went into the library. There was
an old, gilt-framed, concave mirror there, over the fireplace, that
gathered in and focused on its disk the whole room in one condensed,
shadowy scene. Joy went up to it.
"Aren't we queer and strange in there?" she said. "It's so dim and
ghostly; when I look up and see any one in it, it always seems to me
like some scene of Maeterlinck or Sudermann."
She walked over to another glass, more formal and more true, and looked
at herself intently.
"Look at the lines about my eyes! They weren't there a year ago! My
whole face has changed.... I have grown ten years older this last
month.... My eyes themselves are different.... There's another
wrinkle.... I wish my eyebrows were even.... I believe my nose is
one-sided, too...."
Her voice died away. I looked up and saw her gazing into the mirror
with a strange intentness. Her brow was puckered into a frown.
Suddenly her hand went to her heart with a gesture of horror.
"Oh!" she cried, and hid her face in her hands.
"What is it?" I asked.
"The doctor!" she exclaimed, shuddering.
"Tell me!" I insisted.
Instead, she sprang up and began to walk up and down the room, wringing
her hands. "It's awful; it's all confused in my mind, like a dream--but
I seem to remember things that never happened at all. Oh, _did_ they
ever happen?" she turned to demand of me in despair.
"That's what I want you to tell me."
She dropped into her chair again and began to cry--"Oh, I can't tell
you! I can't! It never happened, I'm sure! What does it mean,
Chester?"
"It's probably what happened here yesterday--to Edna--that you remember,
Joy."
"Oh, how dare he treat her so, then? It comes back to me in scraps and
shreds of scenes. Oh, what a cad he must be! And what a woman she must
be, to allow him--oh, I can't stand it! Why did you make me remember?
How can I ever look any one in the face again?"
She threw herself into the cushions on the window-seat and burst into
tears. There was but one way to restore her self-respect, and I went
over to her and took her hand. At first she pulled it away, but I
persisted.
"Dear Joy," I said, "don't grieve so, for it's all right. It was Edna,
not you, you know, and Edna's not responsible for what she does, I'm
sure. Don't cry, for I have something to say to you, now, that you must
answer."
She looked at me through her tears, and waited.
"I want you to marry me, Joy."
"Oh, please _don't_!" she exclaimed. "Marry you? How can I listen to
such a thing, after what has happened? Oh, no, _no_!"
"It's partly on account of that that I ask you now. I want to help you,
and I can help you so much more if we are engaged. I want the right to
help you."
"Oh, it's only pity that makes you ask me. It's only to protect me!
Never, never!"
"It isn't that," I protested. "I love you, Joy--I have loved you for a
long time, and loving you, I want to save you, not only for your sake,
but for my own as well. I want you for my wife, Joy! Don't you love
me?"
Her tears had ceased and now she looked at me with bright eyes that
burned softly.
"My dear," she said, "of course I love you! I think I have loved you
ever since that first day you came here. But for that very reason I
must say no. How could I ever drag you into this wretched trouble?"
"Oh, I'm in it all over, whether or no," I said. "Do you think I could
ever leave you now? Were I only your friend, even, I'd have to stay
with you; but I'm your lover, Joy! I'm most desperately in love with
you. And I intend to have you, too! No matter what you say, no matter
what you do, you're mine, and you can't get away from me. So you'd
better just say 'yes' this moment."
She sat up and looked at me tenderly. "Don't speak of it again--not till
all this problem is settled, at least. It's impossible. Do you think I
could think of it after what has happened, after I've found out what I
really am? If I am ever released from this spell--if I can ever forget
what I've just found out, it will be time enough to speak of love. But
not now, I beg of you. I'm the White Cat!"
"I've already told the doctor that we're engaged," I said.
"You told the doctor!" she exclaimed. "How could you?"
I repeated our conversation in the lane. Her momentary resentment at me
died away at hearing the doctor's own announcement.
"Then perhaps Edna is in love with him, after all! That would account
for much, and excuse everything, perhaps." She drew a sigh of relief at
the thought of this palliation.
"I don't think she is, but she might be willing to marry him to get her
freedom," I offered.
"But then, if Edna is in love, I have still less right to let you
propose to me. Why, just think of it--it's incredible! If they're
engaged----"
"They're not engaged, I'm sure."
"It makes no difference--she may care for him more than you think. It's
fearful! I can't talk about it!"
"But she _can't_ marry him! We must prevent that! Think of the horror
of that possibility!"
I had small need to appeal to her imagination. Her mind was already
whirling with the possibilities of such a situation. She stared at me,
dazed, speechless, her eyes filled with terror. Then she collapsed and
fell into my arms.
"Oh, Chester, what shall I do? Take care of me! I'm so frightened!"
"You must listen to me, Joy," I said. "I love you so that my heart will
break if you don't consent and let me help you. You must be my wife,
and then we can defy them and fight it out together."
She started up with a new thought. "Oh, hasn't Edna a right to _her_
love, too? Won't it be as bad for her, possibly, if I consent? How can
I force her to suffer that! How can I bear to think of your being with
her while I'm wandering, lost, eclipsed? Oh, don't you see how
shockingly impossible the whole thing is? We can neither of us dare to
love. We have no right even to think of it! How can you suggest it?
It's unthinkable!"
"But you love me?" I asked.
She offered me her lips for the first time, and clung to me, trembling.
"Then nothing is impossible. We'll wait a while, and see. But at
least, so far as the doctor is concerned, I can't afford to be
stultified. You'll not repudiate my announcement? You'll admit it to
him, if he asks? I must have that weapon against him."
She turned it over in her mind. "I'll not deny it," she said finally,
"but you must not consider it a promise. It's simply too ghastly to
think of!"
I had gained that much, at any rate, and though my heart sank at the
thought of the possibilities our words had pictured, I still hoped to be
inspired to some successful plan for attack and defense. I knew that
Joy loved me--that was everything. It made me bolder and more
confident. So I put the horrors from me and thought only of our love.
She turned suddenly toward me and said: "What would you do for me,
Chester?"
"Anything, except give you up!"
"Remember the White Cat!" she said. "Would you do what she asked the
Prince to do?"
"What do you mean?"
She spoke deliberately. "Conceive, if you can, our being beaten in the
end. Conceive that Edna might marry the doctor--and then think of me!"
"I'll prevent that!" I said, through my teeth.
"You may not be able to prevent it, except in one way."
I understood. "If I ever believe that _that_ is the only way to prevent
it--I promise to help you."
"I may be able to do it alone; of course I shall try. But if I haven't
the means, the opportunity, you must promise to help me find them."
"I promise!" I repeated.
She tossed her head back with her old gesture.
Then I said: "Joy, all this is unnecessary; though I've promised. If
you'll only marry me now--if you'll even consent to an engagement, it
will enable me to defy the doctor and prevent his coming here."
"Oh, I can not, I can not!" she cried. "You know why as well as I! It's
too awful! I love you--that must be enough for the present."
She rose and added: "Let's go outdoors and take a walk. Perhaps the air
and the sun will do me good, and afterward we can think it over and
decide how to manage the doctor. I'll just run up-stairs and change my
clothes and then we'll try the sun-cure."
As she went up to her room, I walked out into the kitchen to talk to
King while I waited for her. He was busy at the stove, but welcomed me
with his usual meaningless grin.
"Well, King," I said, "I guess your joss is pretty good, after all.
Miss Fielding is better to-day."
"H'm!" He shook his head. "Debbil come plenty time more!"
"Perhaps we can pray him away," I suggested.
He dropped his spoon and came up and took my arm.
"You likee come lookee my joss?"
I assented, amused at his insistence, and he led me out into the yard
where, beside the stable, he had a little shed. It was filled with the
odor of burning sandalwood. In his room, by the upper end of his cot,
was his porcelain joss, a horrible-faced deity. Long placards of red
paper containing Chinese writing were hung about, and there were paper
flowers, dusty and fly-specked, upon the stand. At the feet of the idol
was a bowl full of ashes in which were many joss-sticks. Three were
lighted, the others had burned out. There was also a small lamp, with a
lighted wick floating on the nut-oil. I inspected it all very
seriously.
King rummaged in his trunk, and soon, grinning, beckoned to me. I went
over to him and saw, in the tray, a large, ferocious-looking mask such
as are used in the Chinese theaters and at the Feasts of the Dead.
Beside it was a pair of huge brass cymbals and a snake-skin tomtom.
King held up the mask.
"Oh, you used to be an actor, eh!" I said.
He grinned and held the thing in front of his face. It certainly was
horrible. He took up the cymbals and struck one clang. Then he put them
away.
"Heap good for debbil. Dlive him away quick!" he said. "Maybe some
time I tly him! You think so?"
I laughed, and went back to the library, where Joy was already waiting
for me.
She was standing by the window-seat, looking out, putting in a hat-pin,
lost in thought, when I entered. My footsteps made no noise on the
heavy rug, and I thoughtlessly touched her on the shoulder before she
was aware of my approach. Absorbed in her trouble, unstrung, the
surprise startled her with a sudden irrational terror; she leaped away
as if from the touch of a snake. Then, seeing me, she dropped upon the
window-seat, her hand on her heart.
"Oh, you frightened me so! You see how nervous I am. I didn't hear
you. I'm a goose!"
I took no step toward her, but stood there gazing at her. A sudden idea
had come to me at sight of her fear, and immediately a plan was unrolled
before me, a perfected thing, a solution of the problem, perhaps. At my
fixed, stony attitude, however, she took a new alarm and cried out:
"What is it, Chester? What is it?"
"Wait a moment," I said quietly, "let me think it out." My tone
reassured her, but she was still agitated as she watched me while I
turned it over in my mind. Then I took a seat beside her.
"It's a desperate chance, but it may work."
"You have a plan?" she asked anxiously.
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"I can't tell you. It will be much better for you not to know."
"Oh, I'm afraid not to know! It's dreadful to be conspiring against
that poor girl. It's like plotting a murder. I can't bear the thought
of it. You must tell me."
"It will be hard enough for me--you could not stand it," I said.
"You'll have to trust me, for I shall save you in spite of yourself. But
I can't share this with you."
"You'll not injure her, Chester?"
"How can I, when it will be your own face that I shall confront? It
will be your own voice that I shall hear. I wonder if I can do it!"
"Oh, I _must_ know or I shan't consent," she declared. "What right have
we to destroy her, after all? She has a right, perhaps, to her life!"
"Joy," I said, "you must think of it as a dream, as I said. In our
dreams we suffer and enjoy, but so long as there is no bridge between
that and our waking state, it need not matter to us. What must be done
is no more than a surgical operation. It will restore you, I think, to
health."
"But what of her?"
"She'll merely disappear. She'll take her place on the map again and
join the rest of you."
"You won't tell me?"
"I can't!"
She rose proudly. "Then I do not consent," she declared. "I can suffer
still. I'll summon new reserves of strength and I'll fight it out as it
has begun. I'll forswear happiness, love, peace. I'll accept my
fate--until I can stand it no longer. Then, I have my own remedy and I
shall not be afraid to adopt it. There's always _that_ way out! No,
I'm stronger than you think, and it's quite settled. Now come outdoors
and let's get some fresh air. It's like a haunted house in here."
I tried no longer to persuade her, but I had already decided that I
would put my plan through without her consent, if necessary. It
happened, however, that this course was not necessary.
We went out into the sunshine and the fresh air and the perfume of June
roses. In front of the house she stopped and called the collies. They
came trooping joyfully about her.
"Where's Nokomis?" she asked. "Hasn't Nokomis come back yet? That's
queer!"
I saw, then, that she had not been told. It was shocking to have to
inflict this new blow upon her, after all she had been through, but it
could do no good to conceal the fact any longer. As she turned to go
around to the stable, I took her hand.
"Send the dogs back," I said.
She did so, with a question in her eyes. I took her arm and led her
down toward the turn of the lane.
"Nokomis will never come back, Joy," I said.
"Why?" she exclaimed. Then she saw the answer in my eyes, and she
grasped my arm, as if she were about to fall.
"Oh, don't say--Nokomis isn't dead?" she whispered.
"It was my fault, Joy; I should have had her taken away out of danger.
But I was too late."
I took her to the bed of ferns and pointed to the dead collie still
lying there.
She ran to the spot and looked, aghast. Then, dropping to the ground,
she took Nokomis' head tenderly and laid it in her lap.
"Oh, Nokomis, Nokomis!" she mourned, her little hand smoothing the
ruffled neck affectionately.
I told her how it had happened, and she gazed at me, dry-eyed, till I
had finished. Then she put the collie's beautiful head down,
straightened out the body and finally broke into sobs that shook her
whole body. I let her cry it out.
She looked up at me, her face drawn and tear-stained.
"Poor old Nokomis!" was all she could say.
I took her hand and helped her up, then led her gently away, as I had
led Edna away only yesterday. It was the same hand I took, but it was
so cold and weak! It was the same face I saw, but it was so shadowed
with sadness! It was the same voice I heard, but then it had been proud
and careless--now it was so tremulously stricken!
"To think that I should have killed Nokomis!" she said.
"It wasn't you, dear!"
"How do I know? If I could be sure!" was her doubting answer.
Then she wheeled about and faced me. She put both her hands on my
shoulders and clung desperately to me.
"Chester," she cried, "take me, if you will--if you dare! I don't know
any more what's right and what's wrong. The White Cat is blind! I must
have you--I want you! I can't live without your help! I'll give it all
up, now, and let you act; for I shall die anyway, if such a thing as
this should happen again. Next time it may be Leah--it may be even you!
If you can save me, I'll marry you. I consent to the engagement--I'll
say 'yes' with all my heart, with all gratitude and all love. It's
wrong and cowardly, I'm afraid, but you and Leah are all I have."
I kissed her on the lips, and put on her finger the little old seal ring
I wore.
"Then we must be married," I said.
She freed herself and took a step back.
"Oh, no! Not yet!" she said sadly. "No, not even yet! When you have
tried your plan--and I give you leave, now--when you have succeeded in
freeing me--then we will be married. Oh, you must free me first--I
can't share you with Edna--you must destroy her, before she destroys
me!"
"Very well," I said. "I can't urge you further, though I am afraid
there is a great risk in delay. I must go up to town first, and I shall
have to leave you here, of course. I doubt if I could manage Edna,
should she appear to-morrow while we're in town. But I shall return as
soon as possible--to-morrow at the latest. Now I must get ready to take
the one o'clock train up."
As we sat in the library waiting for Uncle Jerdon, Joy took up the
crystal prism and watched abstractedly the rainbow spot upon the
ceiling.
"You're leaving for the second time," she said. "It's the end of the
second quest, isn't it? I'm afraid the White Cat has no piece of cloth
fine enough to give her Prince, though."