*II*
I called her name involuntarily, I suppose, yet there was in my motive,
too, a dim idea that the suggestion might in some way influence her to
awaken as Joy, rather than as Edna. I did my best, meanwhile, to assist
her to revive, fanning her with a newspaper and chafing her hands.
Long before she came to herself, however, there began a convulsive
struggle that was one of the most terrible things I had to witness in
all my experience with her. It was as if her two selves were fighting
for supremacy, for the possession of her body, which was their
battle-field. I could only wait helplessly for that fierce struggle
gradually to expend itself in tremblings and in sighs, while I called
her again and again, now with a definite idea of hypnotic suggestion.
The conflict seemed to go on for a long, long time, though in point of
fact it lasted, I think, only a few minutes. At the end, she drew a
long, deep breath, relaxed, and opened her eyes. Almost immediately she
was overcome by a violent nausea, and, attending to her and soothing
her, it was some time before we knew with whom we had to deal. Her
first words reassured me.
"Chester!" she exclaimed, "you've come back! I'm so glad, but I'm
terrified--what has happened?"
I kissed her, kneeling on the floor beside her, stroking her hand.
"Don't worry, dear," I said, "it's all right now."
She started up with a glad look on her face, misinterpreting my words.
"Oh, is it finished, then? Have we won? Is Edna driven away for ever?"
I had to tell her that it was not yet even begun, but that, God willing,
I should soon be ready to put my plan to the test. She was disheartened
and discouraged at that; it was as if she had gone through an
unsuccessful operation, she was so exhausted and fearful, but in the end
I succeeded in reassuring her somewhat, and she was restored to calmness
and courage to bear the suspense. As soon as she felt better we went
outdoors for a while, and the fresh, cool air brought back her spirits.
There I told her just what had happened, and what we had to expect.
Then, as I had eaten nothing since morning, I went back with her to the
dining-room and we had supper with Leah.
"Chester," she said, "you've said enough to make me afraid of what you
intend to do. I can't yet be sure that we have the right to destroy
Edna. And I must be surer that Doctor Copin has betrayed me. I've
known him too long to let him go without proving it. I must see him and
have a talk with him first; then, if I am thoroughly convinced, you may
go ahead. But I want to know just what it is you intend to do."
There, at least, I stood firm. "I hope you'll never find out," I said.
"I intend to cut out the cancer--that's enough for you to know. But, as
to the doctor, I'm positively afraid to trust you with him. And yet, it
would be well to know just what he's up to. He may come to-morrow
morning, too, which will prevent my doing anything, whether it's you or
Edna who is here. And I can't risk the chance of being interrupted. He
may not come, however, as he'll naturally expect you to be here
to-morrow, unless Edna's making faster progress than she has heretofore.
And even if I could put you to sleep now, Uncle Jerdon's being in the
house will prevent my acting."
It was here that Leah put in the first suggestion that she had
volunteered.
"Miss Joy," she said, "I have an idea how you might find out what you
want to know, and perhaps the doctor's plans as well, if you'd consent
to do it. I don't know whether you'll think it's right or not--I've
been trying to decide for myself, but I can't."
"Let's have it, at any rate," I said. "We've left right and wrong so far
behind, now, that they're quite out of sight."
"If Leah has even thought of it enough to propose it, I'll take my
chances on its being justifiable," Joy added.
"Here it is, then," said Leah. "You want to know what the doctor is
doing with Edna and to Edna, don't you?"
"That's it," said Joy.
"Then why not pretend to be Edna when he comes?"
"By Jove!" I cried. "There's an idea!"
"But I couldn't possibly do it!" Joy objected.
Leah explained further. "Mr. Castle and I will teach you. We have all
night before us, and we'll have to stay up, anyway, to make sure that it
is _you_ who meets the doctor. During that time you can learn your
part. It will be hard work, but I know you can do it."
"It will at least keep us awake," Joy smiled at last.
"And then, early in the morning, you, as Edna, can telephone to him and
ask him to come down."
"He'll come," I said. "He'll be only too glad to find that Edna has had
two days running."
Joy began to enter into the humor of the situation. "I'll not have to
make up for the part, at least, shall I? And Edna's costumes will fit
me. But do you think I can really do it?"
I was convinced that she could. "When you think that he will be
predisposed to find you Edna, and how little cause he has to suspect
such impersonation, and moreover how much more like you Edna is
becoming, I think that there's very little risk," I said. "The best part
of the plan is that after it's over the doctor is likely to go back and
he'll be safely out of the way for my experiment."
"Oh, your experiment! How it terrifies me! What are we doing to that
poor girl? What possible crime am I consenting to?" Joy broke down
again.
Leah put her hand on Joy's arm and looked at her. "You'll do it for my
sake, Miss Joy?" she pleaded. I knew well enough that she was not
urging her own danger, despite her words. She was desirous only of
Joy's peace--but her words had their effect.
"And for mine," I saw fit to add. The double appeal stilled Joy's
protest.
We began, therefore, to instruct Joy in her part, and I think that she
learned more of her secondary self that night than she had known in all
the rest of her life put together. It was not easy for her, at first, to
abandon herself to the character, and assume the gaucherie that was
typical of Edna. It was hardest of all to do what, indeed, I was loath
to teach her, the little coquetries and familiarities which I imagined
Edna to be in the habit of lavishing upon the doctor. But there was a
humor, as well as a pathos, in the play, and occasionally the fun of it
overthrew our seriousness.
So we went over and over the plot that night. Edna's languishing
glances, Edna's awkward poses and active gestures, Edna's quick speech
and obvious sallies, her impatient, pettish whims, all were rehearsed.
Joy, becoming gradually interested in doing her best, threw herself into
the attempt. Her mimicry of Edna was a strangely confusing sight--it was
like one mirror reflected in another. I took the doctor's part, going
through the motions of hypnotizing her, teaching her how to resist while
simulating sleep, how to reply, how to awaken from the trance. I
prepared her for every complication that I could think of, not
forgetting Edna's characteristic treatment of Leah--and I think that
this part of her acting did more than anything else, through her
indignation, to stimulate her to do her best on the morrow.
Besides all this, she was to do whatever occurred to her at the moment,
taking her cue from the doctor. She had, I impressed upon her, always
the resource at hand of a pretended fainting fit, after which she might
plausibly awaken in her real character as Joy. In any case, I surmised
that her failure to enact the part consistently would be attributed by
him to her primary self's partial projection into consciousness. And,
after all, there were, of course, many points of resemblance between the
two women, and with moderate care, he would never suspect that she was
feigning. It would scarcely have been possible for Edna to have taken
the character of Joy.
It was nearly dawn before we felt that we had gone far enough to be
willing to risk her facility; and then, to freshen ourselves up, we went
outdoors. The air was cool and invigorating; it was a beautiful night
of stars and cloud. About the house the trees waved and rustled. The
mass of woods across the garden was black in shadow. I smelt mint
mingled with violets.
I took her arm, but it was she who guided me through the obscurity,
knowing every inch of the way through long acquaintance. The dogs awoke
and growled as we passed the stable, but instantly relapsed into silence
as if aware of the presence of friends. A horse whinnied in his stall.
We climbed the hill, Joy feeling for the concavity of the path with
sensitive feet and leading me on; and at the top we sat down, wrapped a
shawl about our shoulders and waited for the day to break. We could
hear the dogs barking far away. The second crowing of cocks sent
challenges from one distant farm to another; infinitely remote a railway
whistle sounded. After an hour the twittering of birds began, at first
in occasional chirps, and finally in a chorus of matutinal gossip. The
sky in the east grew pink, then, through red and orange and yellow, to a
pale straw color. The limb of the sun pushed through the sea, freed
itself from the horizon and floated up and up, flooding the country with
light.
We walked back to the house, rejuvenated by the fresh air, and had our
baths and hot coffee which Leah had ready for us. Joy was full of
spirit and courage. The lines about her eyes were softened and her
whole figure and bearing expressed determination. At eight o'clock she
said:
"Well, let's ring up the curtain. I must begin the play. It's time to
telephone. I'm going to tell the first lie I've told, I think, for
months. You've no idea how unnecessary it has been down here. I'm
afraid I've almost forgotten how to be a woman."
She got the doctor, and after a short conversation he promised to come
down to Midmeadows on a train that would land him at the house at ten
o'clock. We went over the day's campaign at the breakfast-table, and I
gave her my last instructions. At nine o'clock Uncle Jerdon drove up,
and I got into the carriage to go to the station, bidding her good-by,
for his benefit.
The old man was loquacious as usual, but offered nothing in regard to
affairs at Midmeadows. He commented upon the crops and the state of
every farm we passed, without ever touching upon Miss Fielding's
condition. If this were his custom with every one, no man could be
safer to have about the premises, but I had an idea he was more
communicative with the doctor. At any rate, it had seemed best to me to
make him believe that I was going up to town.
I had already prepared the plan by which I was to outwit them both. The
up-train came into the station first, while the down-train waited on a
siding for it to pass. All I had to do was to bid Uncle Jerdon good-by,
get into the smoking-car, and, as it pulled out, drop off the step and
dodge quickly behind a woodpile beside the track. Here I waited,
peeping over the top till the down-train had gone and I saw Doctor Copin
get into the carriage to drive off with Uncle Jerdon. Then I walked
leisurely back to Midmeadows, went into the cabin and waited with what
patience I could.
I had to stay from ten till two o'clock, before I saw the carriage go
back with its passenger. That wait had been long, but it was not so
anxious a time as I had spent before, for I knew that Joy would be quite
able to cope with the situation. But I was relieved to see the carriage
go back, and left the cabin the moment the vehicle was out of sight.
I had gone only half-way up the lane when I saw Joy coming to meet me.
She looked tired and pale. She ran to my arms and kissed me.
"Oh, he's infamous!" she cried. "I never would have believed it of
him!"
"He didn't suspect you, then?" I asked anxiously.
"Suspect? No, he was too busy with his own machinations for that.
Chester, if you had been there, I think you would have killed him! And
I acted--how I acted! I got more and more in a rage, and I led him on
with every bit of cunning I had till I had found out his worst. Oh, it
was vile!"