afraid--and of what could you be afraid in this house, under our
protection, and with a good dog outside?--you will bear with things
to-night, and--Good God!" she murmured, but not so low but that my
excited sense caught every syllable, "can she have heard? Has the
reputation of this place gone abroad? Miss Butterworth," she repeated
earnestly, "the house contains no cause of terror for you. Nothing
threatens our guest, nor need you have the least concern for yourself or
us, whether the night passes in quiet or whether it is broken by
unaccountable sounds. They will have no reference to anything in which
you are interested."
"Ah, ha," thought I, "won't they! You give me credit for much
indifference, my dear." But I said nothing beyond a few soothing
phrases, which I made purposely short, seeing that every moment I
detained her was just so much unnecessary torture to her. Then I went
back to my room and carefully closed the door. My first night in this
dismal and strangely ordered house had opened anything but propitiously.
VII
THE FIRST NIGHT
I spoke with a due regard to truth when I assured Miss Knollys that I
entertained no fears at the prospect of sleeping apart from the rest of
the family. I am a woman of courage--or so I have always believed--and
at home occupy my second floor alone without the least apprehension. But
there is a difference in these two abiding-places, as I think you are
ready by this time to acknowledge, and, though I felt little of what is
called fear, I certainly did not experience my usual satisfaction in the
minute preparations with which I am accustomed to make myself
comfortable for the night. There was a gloom both within and without the
four bare walls between which I now found myself shut, which I would
have been something less than human not to feel, and though I had no
dread of being overcome by it, I was glad to add something to the cheer
of the spot by opening my trunk and taking out a few of those little
matters of personal equipment without which the brightest room looks
barren and a den like this too desolate for habitation.
Then I took a good look about me to see how I could obtain for myself
some sense of security. The bed was light and could be pulled in front
of the door. This was something. There was but one window, and that was
closely draped with some thick, dark stuff, very funereal in its
appearance. Going to it, I pulled aside the thick folds and looked out.
A mass of heavy foliage at once met my eye, obstructing the view of the
sky and adding much to the lonesomeness of the situation. I let the
curtain fall again and sat down in a chair to think.
The shortness of the candle-end with which I had been provided had
struck me as significant, so significant that I had not allowed it to
burn long after Miss Knollys had left me. If these girls, charming, no
doubt, but sly, had thought to shorten my watch by shortening my candle,
I would give them no cause to think but that their ruse had been
successful. The foresight which causes me to add a winter wrap to my
stock of clothing even when the weather is at the hottest, leads me to
place a half dozen or so of candles in my travelling trunk, and so I had
only to open a little oblong box in the upper tray to have the means at
my disposal of keeping a light all night.
So far, so good. I had a light, but had I anything else in case William
Knollys--but with this thought Miss Knollys's look and reassuring words
recurred to me. "Whatever you may hear--if you hear anything--will have
no reference to yourself and need not disturb you."
This was comforting certainly, from a selfish standpoint; but did it
relieve my mind concerning others?
Not knowing what to think of it all, and fully conscious that sleep
would not visit me under existing circumstances, I finally made up my
mind not to lie down till better assured that sleep on my part would be
desirable. So after making the various little arrangements already
alluded to, I drew over my shoulders a comfortable shawl and set myself
to listen for what I feared would be more than one dreary hour of this
not to be envied night.
And here just let me stop to mention that, carefully considered as all
my precautions were, I had forgotten one thing upon leaving home which
at this minute made me very nearly miserable. I had not included among
my effects the alcohol lamp and all the other private and particular
conveniences which I possess for making tea in my own apartment. Had I
but had them with me, and had I been able to make and sip a cup of my
own delicious tea through the ordeal of listening for whatever sounds
might come to disturb the midnight stillness of this house, what relief
it would have been to my spirits and in what a different light I might
have regarded Mr. Gryce and the mission with which I had been intrusted.
But I not only lacked this element of comfort, but the satisfaction of
thinking that it was any one's fault but my own. Lena had laid her hand
on that teapot, but I had shaken my head, fearing that the sight of it
might offend the eyes of my young hostesses. But I had not calculated
upon being put in a remote corner like this of a house large enough to
accommodate a dozen families, and if ever I travel again----
But this is a matter personal to Amelia Butterworth, and of no interest
to you. I will not inflict my little foibles upon you again.
Eleven o'clock came and went. I had heard no sound. Twelve, and I began
to think that all was not quite so still as before; that I certainly
could hear now and then faint noises as of a door creaking on its
hinges, or the smothered sound of stealthily moving feet. Yet all was so
far from being distinct, that for some time I hesitated to acknowledge
to myself that anything could be going on in the house, which was not to
be looked for in a home professing to be simply the abode of a decent
young man and two very quiet-appearing young ladies; and even after the
noises and whispering had increased to such an extent that I could even
distinguish the sullen tones of the brother from the softer and more
carefully modulated accents of Lucetta and her sister, I found myself
ready to explain the matter by any conjecture short of that which
involved these delicate young ladies in any scheme of secret wickedness.
But when I found there was likely to be no diminution in the various
noises and movements that were taking place in the front of the house,
and that only something much out of the ordinary could account for so
much disturbance in a country home so long after midnight, I decided
that only a person insensible to all sight and sound could be expected
to remain asleep under such circumstances, and that I would be perfectly
justified in their eyes in opening my door and taking a peep down the
corridor. So without further ado, I drew my bed aside and glanced out.
All was perfectly dark and silent in the great house. The only light
visible came from the candle burning in the room behind me, and as for
sound, it was almost too still--it was the stillness of intent rather
than that of natural repose.
This was so unexpected that for an instant I stood baffled and
wondering. Then my nose went up, and I laughed quietly to myself. I
could see nothing and I could hear nothing; but Amelia Butterworth, like
most of her kind, boasts of more than two senses, and happily there was
something to smell. A quickly blown-out candle leaves a witness behind
it to sensitive nostrils like mine, and this witness assured me that the
darkness was deceptive. Some one had just passed the head of my corridor
with a light, and because the light was extinguished it did not follow
that the person who held it was far away. Indeed, I thought that now I
heard a palpitating breath.
"Humph," I cried aloud, but as if in unconscious communion with myself,
"it is not often I have so vivid a dream! I was sure that I heard steps
in the hall. I fear I'm growing nervous."
Nothing moved. No one answered me.
"Miss Knollys!" I called firmly.
No reply.
"Lucetta, dear!"
I thought this appeal would go unanswered also, but when I raised my
voice for the third time, a sudden rushing sound took place down the
corridor, and Lucetta's excited figure, fully dressed, appeared in the
faint circle of light caused by my now rapidly waning candle.
"Miss Butterworth, what is the matter?" she asked, making as if she
would draw me into my room--a proceeding which I took good care she
should not succeed in.
Giving a glance at her dress, which was the same she had worn at the
supper table, I laughingly retorted:
"Isn't that a question I might better ask you? It is two o'clock by my
watch, and you, for all your apparent delicacy, are still up. What does
it mean, my dear? Have I put you out so completely by my coming that
none of you can sleep?"
Her eyes, which had fallen before mine, quickly looked up.
"I am sorry," she began, flushing and trying to take a peep into my
room, possibly to see if I had been to bed. "We did not mean to disturb
you, but--but--oh, Miss Butterworth, pray excuse our makeshifts and our
poverty. We wished to fix up another room for you, and were ashamed to
have you see how little we had to do it with, so we were moving some
things out of our own room to-night, and----"
Here her voice broke, and she burst into an almost uncontrollable flood
of tears.
"Don't," she entreated, "don't," as, quite thoroughly ashamed, I began
to utter some excuses. "I shall be all right in a moment. I am used to
humiliations. Only"--and her whole body seemed to join in the plea, it
trembled so--"do not, I pray, speak quite so loud. My brother is more
sensitive than even Loreen and myself about these things, and if he
should hear----"
Here a suppressed oath from way down the hall assured me that he did
hear, but I gave no sign of my recognition of this fact, and Lucetta
added quickly: "He would not forgive us for our carelessness in waking
you. He is rough sometimes, but so good at heart, so good."
This, with the other small matter I have just mentioned, caused a
revulsion in my feelings. He good? I did not believe it. Yet her eyes
showed no wavering when I interrogated them with mine, and feeling that
I had perhaps been doing them all an injustice, and that what I had seen
was, as she evidently meant to intimate, due to their efforts to make a
sudden guest comfortable amid their poverty, I put the best face I could
on the matter and gave the poor, pitiful, pleading face a kiss. I was
startled to feel how cold her forehead was, and, more and more
concerned, loaded her down with such assurances of appreciation as came
to my lips, and sent her back to her own room with an injunction not to
trouble herself any more about fixing up any other room for me. "Only,"
I added, as her whole face showed relief, "we will go to the locksmith
to-morrow and get a key; and after to-night you will be kind enough to
see that I have a cup of tea brought to my room just before I retire. I
am no good without my cup of tea, my dear. What keeps other people awake
makes me sleep."
"Oh, you shall have your tea!" she cried, with an eagerness that was
almost unnatural, and then, slipping from my grasp, she uttered another
hasty apology for having roused me from my sleep and ran hastily back.
I stretched out my arm for the candle guttering in my room and held it
up to light her. She seemed to shrink at sight of its rays, and the last
vision I had of her speeding figure showed me that same look of dread on
her pallid features which had aroused my interest in our first
interview.
"She may have explained why the three of them are up at this time of
night," I muttered, "but she has not explained why her every
conversation is seasoned by an expression of fear."
And thus brooding, I went back to my room and, pushing the bed again
against the door, lay down upon it and out of sheer chagrin fell fast
asleep.
VIII
ON THE STAIRS
I did not wake up till morning. The room was so dark that in all
probability I should not have wakened then, if my habits of exact
punctuality had not been aided by a gentle knock at my door.
"Who's there?" I called, for I could not say "Come in" till I had moved
my bed and made way for the door to open.
"Hannah with warm water," replied a voice, at which I made haste to
rise. Hannah was the woman who had waited on us at dinner.
The sight of her pleasant countenance, which nevertheless looked a
trifle haggard, was a welcome relief after the sombre features of the
night. Addressing her with my usual brusqueness, but with quite my usual
kindness, I asked how the young ladies were feeling this morning.
Her answer made a great show of frankness.
"Oh, they are much as usual," said she. "Miss Loreen is in the kitchen
and Miss Lucetta will soon be here to inquire how you are. I hope you
passed a good night yourself, ma'am."
I had slept more than I ought to, perhaps, and made haste to reassure
her as to my own condition. Then seeing that a little talk would not be
unwelcome to this hearty woman, tired to death possibly with life in
this dreary house, I made some excuse for keeping her a few minutes,
saying as I did so:
"What an immense dwelling this is for four persons to live in, or have
you another inmate whom I have not seen?"
I thought her buxom color showed a momentary sign of failing, but it all
came back with her answer, which was given in a round, hearty voice.
"Oh, I'm the only maid, ma'am. I cook and sweep and all. I couldn't
abide another near me. Even Mr. Simsbury, who tends the cow and horse
and who only comes in for his dinner, worries me by spells. I like to
have my own way in the kitchen, except when the young ladies choose to
come in. Is there anything more you want, ma'am, and do you prefer tea
or coffee for breakfast?"
I told her that I always drank coffee in the morning, and would have
liked to have added a question or two, but she gave me no chance. As she
went out I saw her glance at my candlestick. There was only a
half-burned end in it. She is calculating, too, how long I sat up,
thought I.
Lucetta stood at the head of the stairs as I went down.
"Will you excuse me for a few moments?" said she. "I am not quite ready
to follow you, but will be soon."
"I will take a look at the grounds."
I thought she hesitated for a moment; then her face lighted up. "Be sure
you don't encounter the dog," she cried, and slipped hastily down a side
hall I had not noticed the night before.
"Ah, a good way to keep me in," I reasoned. "But I shall see the grounds
yet if I have to poison that dog." Notwithstanding, I made no haste to
leave the house. I don't believe in tempting Providence, especially
where a dog is concerned.
Instead of that, I stood still and looked up and down the halls,
endeavoring to get some idea of their plan and of the location of my own
room in reference to the rest.
I found that the main hall ran at right angles to the long corridor down
which I had just come, and noting that the doors opening into it were of
a size and finish vastly superior to those I had passed in the corridor
just mentioned, I judged that the best bedrooms all lay front, and that
I had been quartered at the end of what had once been considered as the
servants' hall. At my right, as I looked down the stairs, ran a wall
with a break, which looked like an opening into another corridor, and
indeed I afterward learned that the long series of rooms of which mine
was the last, had its counterpart on the other side of this enormous
dwelling, giving to the house the shape of a long, square U.
I was looking in some wonderment at this opening and marvelling over the
extravagant hospitality of those old days which necessitated such a
number of rooms in a private gentleman's home, when I heard a door open
and two voices speaking. One was rough and careless, unmistakably that
of William Knollys. The other was slow and timid, and was just as
unmistakably that of the man who had driven me to this house the day
before. They were talking of some elderly person, and I had good sense
enough not to allow my indignation to blind me to the fact that by that
elderly person they meant me. This is important, for their words were
not without significance.
"How shall we keep the old girl out of the house till it is all over?"
was what I heard from William's surly lips.
"Lucetta has a plan," was the hardly distinguishable answer. "I am to
take----"
That was all I could hear; a closing door shut off the remainder.
Something, then, was going on in this house, of a dark if not mysterious
character, and the attempts made by these two interesting and devoted
girls to cover up the fact, by explanations founded on their poverty,
had been but subterfuges after all. Grieved on their account, but
inwardly grateful to the imprudence of their more than reckless brother,
for this not-to-be-mistaken glimpse into the truth, I slowly descended
the stairs, in that state of complete self-possession which is given by
a secret knowledge of the intentions formed against us by those whose
actions we have reason to suspect.
Henceforth I had but one duty--to penetrate the mystery of this
household. Whether it was the one suspected by Mr. Gryce or another of a
less evil and dangerous character hardly mattered in my eyes. While the
blight of it rested upon this family, eyes would be lowered and heads
shaken at their name. This, if I could help it, must no longer be. If
guilt lay at the bottom of all this fear, then this guilt must be known;
if innocence--I thought of the brother's lowering brow and felt it
incompatible with innocence, but remembering Mr. Gryce's remarks on this
subject, read an instant lecture to myself and, putting all conclusions
aside, devoted the few minutes in which I found myself alone in the
dining-room to a careful preparation of my mind for its duty, which was
not likely to be of the simplest character if Lucetta's keen wits were
to be pitted against mine.
IX
A NEW ACQUAINTANCE
When my mind is set free from doubt and fully settled upon any course, I
am capable of much good nature and seeming simplicity. I was therefore
able to maintain my own at the breakfast-table with some success, so
that the meal passed off without any of the disagreeable experiences of
the night before. Perhaps the fact that Loreen presided at the
coffee-urn instead of Lucetta had something to do with this. Her calm,
even looks seemed to put some restraint upon the boisterous outbursts to
which William was only too liable, while her less excitable nature
suffered less if by any chance he did break out and startle the decorous
silence by one of his rude guffaws.
I am a slow eater, but I felt forced to hurry through the meal or be
left eating alone at the end. This did not put me in the best of humor,
for I hated to risk an indigestion just when my faculties needed to be
unusually alert. I compromised by leaving the board hungry, but I did it
with such a smile that I do not think Miss Knollys knew I had not risen
from any table so ill satisfied in years.
"I will leave you to my brother for a few minutes," said she, hastily
tripping from the room. "I pray that you will not think of going to your
room till we have had an opportunity of arranging it."
I instantly made up my mind to disobey this injunction. But first, it
was necessary to see what I could make of William.
He was not a very promising subject as he turned and led the way toward
the front of the house.
"I thought you might like to see the grounds," he growled, evidently not
enjoying the role assigned him. "They are so attractive," he sneered.
"Children hereabout call them the jungle."
"Who's to blame for that?" I asked, with only a partial humoring of his
ill nature. "You have a sturdy pair of arms of your own, and a little
trimming here and a little trimming there would have given quite a
different appearance to this undergrowth. A gentleman usually takes
pride in his place."
"Yes, when it's all his. This belongs to my sisters as much as to me.
What's the use of my bothering myself about it?"
The man was so selfish he did not realize the extent of the exhibition
he made of it. Indeed he seemed to take pride in what he probably called
his independence. I began to feel the most intense aversion for him, and
only with the greatest difficulty could prolong this conversation
unmoved.
"I should think it would be a pleasure to give that much assistance to
your sisters. They do not seem to be sparing in their attempts to please
you."
He snapped his fingers, and I was afraid a dog or two would come leaping
around the corner of the house. But it was only his way of expressing
disdain.
"Oh, the girls are well enough," he grumbled; "but they will stick to
the place. Lucetta might have married a half-dozen times, and once I
thought she was going to, but suddenly she turned straight about and
sent her lover packing, and that made me mad beyond everything. Why
should she hang on to me like a burr when there are other folks willing
to take on the burden?"
It was the most palpable display of egotism I had ever seen and one of
the most revolting. I was so disgusted by it that I spoke up without any
too much caution.
"Perhaps she thinks she can be useful to you," I said. "I have known
sisters give up their own happiness on no better grounds."
"Useful?" he sneered. "It's a usefulness a man like me can dispense
with. Do you know what I would like?"
We were standing in one of the tangled pathways, with our faces turned
toward the house. As he spoke, he looked up and made a rude sort of
gesture toward the blank expanse of empty and curtainless windows.
"I would like that great house all to myself, to make into one huge,
bachelor's hall. I should like to feel that I could tramp from one end
of it to the other without awakening an echo I did not choose to hear
there. I should not find it too big. I should not find it too lonesome.
I and my dogs would know how to fill it, wouldn't we, Saracen? Oh, I
forgot, Saracen is locked up."
The way he mumbled the last sentence showed displeasure, but I gave
little heed to that. The gloating way in which he said he and his dogs
would fill it had given me a sort of turn. I began to have more than an
aversion for the man. He inspired me with something like terror.
"Your wishes," said I, with as little expression as possible, "seem to
leave your sisters entirely out of your calculations. How would your
mother regard that if she could see you from the place where she is
gone?"
He turned upon me with a look of anger that made his features positively
ugly.
"What do you mean by speaking to me of my mother? Have I spoken of her
to you? Is there any reason why you should lug my mother into this
conversation? If so, say so, and be----"
He did not swear at me; he did not dare to, but he came precious near to
it, and that was enough to make me recoil.
"She was my friend," said I. "I knew and loved her before you were born.
That was why I spoke of her, and I think it very natural myself."
He seemed to feel ashamed. He grumbled out some sort of apology and
looked about quite helplessly, possibly for the dog he manifestly was in
the habit of seeing forever at his heels. I took advantage of this
momentary abstraction on his part to smooth my own disturbed features.
"She was a beautiful girl," I remarked, on the principle that, the ice
once broken, one should not hesitate about jumping in. "Was your father
equally handsome for a man?"
"My father--yes, let's talk of father. He was a judge of horses, he was.
When he died, there were three mares in the stable not to be beat this
side of Albany, but those devils of executors sold them, and I--well,
you had a chance to test the speed of old Bess yesterday. You weren't
afraid of being thrown out, I take it. Great Scott, to think of a man of
my tastes owning no other horse than that!"
"You have not answered my question," I suggested, turning him about and
moving toward the gate.
"Oh, about the way my father looked! What does that matter? He was
handsome, though. Folks say that I get whatever good looks I have from
him. He was big--bigger than I am, and while he lived--What did you make
a fellow talk for?"
I don't know why I did, but I was certainly astonished at the result.
This great, huge lump of selfish clay had actually shown feeling and was
ashamed of it, like the lout he was.
"Yesterday," said I, anxious to change the subject, "I had difficulty in
getting in through that gate we are pointing for. Couldn't you set it
straight, with just a little effort?"
He paused, looked at me to see if I were in earnest, then took a dogged
step toward the gate I was still indicating with my resolute right hand,
but before he could touch it he perceived something on that deserted and
ominous highway which made him start in sudden surprise.
"Why, Trohm," he cried, "is that you? Well, it's an age since I have
seen you turn that corner on a visit to us."