Although scarcely five minutes had elapsed since Eugene Mallard dashed
into the house in search of his revolver, when he returned to the
brook-side neither his wife nor Arthur Hollis was to be seen.
His rage was so great that he could scarcely contain himself. In his
present state of mind he did not dare return to his guests, lest his
emotion should betray him.
He thought they were planning an elopement; but he would nip that in
the bud.
The woman to whom he had given his name should not disgrace him. He
determined upon that as he hurried up a rear stair-way to his wife's
apartments to verify his suspicions.
To his utter surprise, as he flung open the door, he saw her sitting
by the window. She sprung to her feet, looking at him with widely
distended eyes.
It was the first time that her husband had ever crossed the threshold
of her apartments.
He entered the room, closed the door behind him, and stood with folded
arms before her.
Husband and wife looked at each other.
It was he who broke the awful silence. He strode up to her, and seized
her wrist in a vise-like grasp.
"There is little use in making a preliminary speech," he cried,
hoarsely. "I will come to the point at once!"
His face was ghastly, his lips trembled with uncontrollable rage.
Ida, pale, terrified, wondering, gazed at him with undisguised terror
in her eyes.
"What is it?" she gasped.
"You guilty woman!" cried Eugene Mallard--"you cruel, guilty woman, I
have interrupted you in your preparation for flight, it seems!"
His stern face, the anger that shone in his eyes, and the harsh voice
frightened her. She shrunk back as though he had struck her. Her lips
parted as though she would speak; but all sound died away on them.
"It is time," said Eugene Mallard, "that we came to a clear
understanding. In every way you have deceived me! I have been fatally
betrayed! Your shameless flirtation has tarnished my name and lowered
my position! I am ashamed to look men in the face! Where is he?" he
demanded, looking about him, as though he expected to see Arthur Hollis
in the room.
"Down by the brook," she faltered.
Eugene laughed a harsh, satirical laugh.
"He must have seen me coming while he waited there for you, and fled
from my wrath." He turned on his heel. "I repeat, if you stir from this
room until I give you leave, it will end in a tragedy!"
In his anger, he did not see that he was trampling under foot a noble
heart. If she had been able to calmly explain to him just what had
occurred, she might have been saved. She attempted to speak, but he
held up his hand.
"Not one word!" he cried. "I will not listen!"
He turned suddenly, hurried from the room, closed the door after him,
and went quickly to his library, where he could be alone.
Ida, left alone, reeled into the nearest chair. She shook as if in an
ague; she was cold, and her head reeled. Her keen pain and agony kept
her from fainting.
She tried to imagine her future life. What was Eugene Mallard about to
do? Her future was now ruined, sacrificed. Eugene Mallard had been cold
and indifferent to her before, now he hated her.
He said she was to remain in that room until he should return. She
flung herself face downward upon the floor. He had called her guilty
and cruel; he had vented his rage upon her. Her brain was dizzy with
the unusual excitement.
When Vivian Deane glided into Ida's room to find out what was going on,
to see whether Ida had really eloped, she found her in a deep swoon.
She did not call the servants, but set about reviving her herself.
Ida lay white and still as one dead. Above her bent Vivian Deane,
half terrified at the result of her work. Very soon her labors were
rewarded, and Ida opened her large, dark eyes.
"Vivian--Vivian!" she murmured, catching at the arms of her false
friend, her teeth chattering.
The blinding tears that now fell from Ida's eyes was a mercy sent
directly from Heaven, for they saved the hapless young wife from going
mad.
"Something has gone wrong with you, my dear," said Vivian, in her
sweetest, most cooing voice. "Tell me what it is, Ida, dear. Let me
console and comfort you."
Another fit of sobbing more violent than the first, and Ida threw
herself into the arms of her treacherous friend, sobbing out:
"Oh! Vivian, I must tell some one."
In a voice that shook with emotion, she proceeded to confide to her
enemy what had happened down by the brook-side, adding that her husband
had discovered it in some way, and accused her of encouraging Arthur
Hollis.
"Even if you had given him encouragement, no one could have blamed
you," Vivian said in a soft, purring voice, "for your husband's neglect
has been noticeable by every one!"
"But I did not encourage him!" cried Ida, in agony. "He was pleasant
company, but I thought no more of him, even though I spent so much of
my time in his society, than I did of Captain Drury, or any of the
other guests beneath this roof. Oh! I do wish I were dead--I do--I do!"
In this exaggerated feeling of one ill in body and in mind, in a state
of nervous tension, a true friend would have shown the unhappy Ida that
her position was not so desperate and hopeless as she imagined. Matters
could not, however, be carried to an extremity without an explanation.
"He bid me to remain here until he should return," sobbed Ida. "What do
you suppose he means to do?"
"Do you really want my honest opinion?" asked Vivian, with a steely
glitter in her blue eyes.
"Yes!" said the young wife, anxiously, fairly holding her breath in
suspense.
"Well, then, my dear, if you must have it, here it is: I, who know the
fierce temper of the Mallards, say to you that I think he intends to
call all the guests here, to openly denounce you before them, and then
turn you away from his house!"
The face of the girl-wife who listened grew ghastly.
"I would never stay beneath this roof to face his anger," said Vivian,
her eyes glistening. "I would gather up what money and jewels I could
lay my hands on, and run away--go as far away as possible."
"Would you?" cried Ida, in a hushed, awful voice.
"Yes," advised Vivian, firmly. "And every moment of delay brings you
nearer and nearer to face the terrible ordeal that I am sure he intends
to mete out to you!"
Ida rose suddenly to her feet
"I will do as you advise, Vivian," she whispered, her dark eyes filled
with terror. "I will fly at once!"