It was the first specimen I had happened to see of Joy's handwriting,
and was, as she had said, quite different from Edna's. It was bold and
flowing, sharply slanted and graceful, the hand of a fast writer and a
quick thinker. I put the note into my pocket to give to-morrow to Edna.
I should but pass it back to the same hands that had written it, it
would be read by the same eyes that saw it now--but I could guess with
what scorn and anger it would be received.
Joy bade me good night with a tremor in her voice, gave me a long,
clinging kiss, and looked up into my eyes.
"I'm not really your wife yet, you know, Chester," she said.
"'Come slowly, Eden,'" I quoted.
"And I may never be--" The tears filled her eyes.
"Do you think I shall fail, after to-day?" I said.
"I still have my revolver, if you do. Remember the White Cat, and your
promise!"
"That's a sad thought for a wedding-night! I'm going to save you!"
"Poor Edna!" she said, releasing herself. Then, as if she thought it
unwifely to leave me sorrowful, she flashed a smile at me, waved her
hand, and ran up-stairs.
*III*
I have said so much of my "plan" that it is now quite time to explain
it, for it was of the simplest. Many of the recorded cases of multiple
personality, or rather, according to a more modern interpretation of the
state, dissociated personality, had arisen, I found, from a shock,
sometimes purely physical, sometimes mental. It was my idea that in
Miss Fielding's case the process might be reversed--that I might inhibit
her secondary self by some violent excitement. A long process of
hypnotic treatment might, I knew, effect a cure more or less stable, but
the doctor's superior knowledge and, heretofore, his superior
advantages, had made me doubt of succeeding in that way. To take her to
any competent specialist was inexpedient, for the reason that we should
meet with a steady opposition from Edna, who could do much to make such
a course impossible.
The means I intended to employ were, I must confess, brutal; I intended
to frighten Edna to within an inch of her life--to frighten her, that
is, so that she might be afraid to reappear. This explanation is
superficial, but it conveys the idea; what really would happen, I
thought, was that Joy would "wake up" and resume permanently her normal
condition. I was not competent to explain the rationale of it; I
trusted, in a way, to the mere reversion of the processes that had been
described in similar cases of disintegrated personalities.
Exactly how to accomplish this end I was not yet decided, save that I
had prepared myself with a pair of revolvers and blank cartridges; I
left the actual operation to the inspiration of the moment, taking
advantage of the circumstances. I knew that the mental shock must be
severe, and that the tension should be prolonged almost to the breaking
point. In some way or other it would come to threatening her life. In
my mind it was like deliberately breaking a badly-set bone that it might
heal again aright. So desperate a remedy I had not wanted to describe
to Joy, nor did I ever expect to tell her, even should her cure be
effected.
Of the cruelty to Edna, I had no thought. I knew no other way of
accomplishing what I desired, and my sympathies, naturally, were
entirely with Joy. She alone, surely, had a right to exist in that fair
body. Seeing that I could not settle the ethical considerations
involved, and that they only impaired my will, I cast them aside. I
offer no other excuse for my conduct. It seemed expedient, in fact the
only thing that would be effectual, in ridding my wife of her incubus.
If it were wrong, well, I would take the blame. I have never been able
to settle the question in my own mind, even yet.
She slept late the next morning. I was down-stairs when she rang for
Leah, and so heard nothing, but it was no surprise to me when, a few
minutes later, Leah came down and said:
"It's Edna."
The fight was on. I was now prepared to undertake (as it would
certainly seem to a spectator) to torture my wife of a day half to
death. I shall not attempt to describe my own feelings as I anticipated
the prospect.
"Has she tried to telephone?" I asked. My voice, I imagine, was now like
that of a surgeon at an operation asking his assistant for a knife.
"No," said Leah.
"Hurry up, then. You must manage to overhear what she says, if
possible. I must know whether the doctor's coming or not. Have you sent
Uncle Jerdon away?"
"He's harnessing up to go to the Harbor, and he'll be gone all the
forenoon."
"Good."
She went into the kitchen and prepared Edna's breakfast, while I crept
up-stairs and listened to hear in case she telephoned. As soon as Leah
went up with the breakfast tray, I went down again and walked into the
kitchen.
"King," I said, looking square at the Chinaman, "to-day I'm going to
drive the devil out of Miss Fielding. You sabbee?"
He grinned very good-naturedly. "Yep, I sabbee," he answered, paring
his potatoes calmly.
"Maybe I make heap noise. You sabbee?"
"Yep, I sabbee!" again.
"You no mind me, King? You not be frightened?"
He laughed and said: "Aw, no! I no care. Maybe I come help. I sabbee
debbil all light!"
"No, I won't need your help, King. I can do it alone, I think. All I
want, you stay here, and not be frightened."
"Aw, I no flighten'. What's a-matter? You no think so?"
"Well, you don't know anything about it. Sabbee? You must keep quiet,
sure."
"Oh, I sabbee all light. Maybe somebody ask me, I say, 'I not know!' I
sabbee. I say, 'You go-to-hell!' he-he!" He laughed to himself. "You
heap good man, you all light, sure. Dlive away debbil, tha's all.
Wha's a-matter? You no sabbee me? Aw?" He turned away in scorn at my
distrust.
I was pretty sure that I could trust to his imperturbability, and
returned to the library satisfied, leaving King still chuckling inanely
to himself.
In a moment Leah came down again and said hurriedly to me:
"She's just telephoned. She said nothing about yesterday, or that you
were here! He must have said he wasn't coming down to-day, or at least
not this morning, for she tried to tease him to come. She's all dressed
up--it's astonishing--I can't tell you!" She left me and immediately
afterward I heard Edna's footsteps on the stairs.
For what reason she had dressed herself so extravagantly--whether from
sheer wilful fancy, or a desire to tantalize me or to seduce me from my
fondness of Joy--I have never decided. She wore an evening gown of gold
tissue, sheer as gossamer, fold on fold, embroidered with gold threads
all over the low-necked corsage. About her forehead was a garland of
gold laurel leaves, beautifully modeled and tooled, interlaced with a
slender string of coral beads. Her arms were bare. On her right breast
was a red velvet rose, she had stockings of scarlet silk and golden
slippers. It was a costume for a fancy-dress ball and had indeed been
originally made for that purpose. To see her appear, now, and shine in
the morning sunlight like a butterfly, was to see something as
extraordinary as it was picturesque.
She came to me with all Joy's grace, and held out her hand, laughing.
"So you're here again after all, Chet," she said. "I thought I'd dress
up for you. You've never seen me to advantage. How do you like it?"
She turned slowly round for my benefit.
"You're an empress!" I exclaimed. "I don't deserve this honor!"
She began dancing a minuet all alone, speaking as she swirled.
"Indeed you don't! I didn't want you here yesterday, really. But now
you've come down again, you'd better stay." She curtsied demurely.
"But look out for the doc--tor!" She was off again in a circle. "I
suppose it was Joy who invited you! I'll have to entertain Joy's guest,
I suppose. There! Now sit down and talk to me."
What was behind her whimsical mood, and why she so willingly received
me, I could not guess. When I had taken a seat she tapped me with her
fan and said:
"You know I've always liked you, Chet, but you see the doctor thought it
wasn't best for me to have you about. Really, I oughtn't to let you
stay now. He'd be perfectly furious, you know. He thought you had gone
up to town. You must hide, if he comes."
"Trust me for that," I said.
"So Joy wants you to come?" she continued. "I suppose you'd never come
down just to see me! You must tell me about Joy. Is she nice?"
"She's lovely. Oh, you'd love her, Edna. It's a pity you can't know
her. It would save so much trouble!"
"Oh, are you in love with her, then?"
"I'm very fond of her!"
She slapped her fan viciously and bit her lip. Then:
"I'm sure you like her much better than you do me, anyway--don't you?"
"I know her better than I do you, Edna, and she has always been nice to
me."
"And haven't I? Didn't I dress up for you, sir?"
"I have a letter to you from her--would you like to read it?"
She held out her hand for it instantly, and I gave her the note. She
glanced it over, then tore it up spitefully.
"Cat!" she exclaimed. "If I could only see her, if I could only talk to
her once! I'd tell her what I thought of her! Oh, I'll give her
something to forgive!" She looked about her, as if for something
particularly Joy's upon which to vent her anger.
Just then, as luck would have it, Leah entered the room with a vase of
flowers.
"Get out of here, you black hussy!" Edna cried. "Don't you see I'm
busy? Your place is in the kitchen!"
Leah turned and left without a word.
"I've stood enough from that nigger," Edna said. "I'm going to get rid
of her this very day."
"You said you'd keep her as long as I stayed," I interposed.
"Oh, _Joy_ asked you to plead for her, I suppose! You're only here
hoping to get a chance to see _Joy_, anyway! How did you get in
yesterday, anyway? What happened? I'd forgotten all about that! What
did I do in the evening? I can't remember. Were you here then, with
Joy?"
"You fainted away at the dinner-table----"
"So you had your evening with Joy all right? Oh, what do you care for
me? Nothing! You _hate_ me, I believe!" The next moment she was
crying, but, before I could assuage her, she had risen abruptly and run
up-stairs.