GETTING HOME.
Springfield was left behind just as the gray daylight came stealing
through the frost-bound windows, rousing the sleepy passengers, and
making Morris pull his wide collar a little closer about his face as if
to avoid observation. He was not afraid of daylight except as it might
disclose some old acquaintance who would perhaps wonder to see him at
that hour between Springfield and Hartford, and wonder more whose was
the head resting so confidentially upon his shoulder, for after the
change at Springfield, Katy, who could no longer keep awake, had leaned
against his arm as readily as if he had been her brother.
A secret of any kind makes its possessor suspicious, and Morris felt
anxious whenever any one glanced that way, but he would not waken Katy,
who slept upon his arm until New York was reached, when with a
frightened, startled feeling, she sat up, and pushing her veil from her
face, looked about her, nodding half unconsciously to Thomas Tubbs, whom
she knew from having seen him in her husband's office, and who since
leaving Hartford had been a passenger on board that train, sitting just
behind Dr. Morris, and wondering when he saw who his companion was, "if
Mrs. Wilford had been to Silverton." Mattie wondered, too, when he told
her, as she poured his half-cold coffee, and then it passed from his
mind, until the following morning when he heard Mark Ray saying to a
client who had asked when Mr. Cameron would probably return:
"If he does not come to-day, we shall telegraph for him, as his wife is
very sick."
Then Tom remembered how white and haggard Katy's face had looked, and
many times that day his mind recurred to Katy Cameron, whom in his
boyish way he had admired as something supernaturally beautiful, and
who, in her own room at home, lay burning with fever, and talking of
Silverton, of Linwood, of baby, of Genevra, and of Wilford.
Morris had seen her safely to her own door, and then thinking she would
do best alone for a time, he left her on the steps, after having rung
the bell and seen that the ring was answered.
It was Esther who met her, expressing much concern at her appearance,
and asking why she did not stay at Father Cameron's instead of coming
home this cold raw day.
Hardly knowing what she did, Katy motioned Esther to her after reaching
her room, and whispered:
"I have not been to Father Cameron's. I had business somewhere else, but
you must not tell. I am in trouble, Esther, or rather, I have been. I
guess it's over now. You are a good girl, and I can trust you. There's
a letter in that drawer, please bring it to me."
Either complied, and Katy held in her hand the letter left for Wilford.
It had not been opened. It must never be opened now, and holding it
until a fire was kindled in the grate, she tossed it into the flames,
watching it as it crispened and blackened upon the glowing coals.
The quick-witted Esther saw that something was wrong, and traced it
readily to Wilford, whose exacting nature she thoroughly understood. She
had not been blind during the two years and a half she had been Katy's
maid, and no impatient word of Wilford's, or frown upon his face, had
escaped her when occurring in her presence, while Katy's uniform
sweetness and entire submission to his will had been noted as well, so
that in Esther's opinion Wilford was a domestic tyrant, and Katy was an
angel. There was no danger then of Esther's repeating anything
forbidden. She had, of course, her own private speculation on the
subject, and when she learned that the tall, handsome man who came
within an hour after Katy's arrival was Dr. Grant, about whom she had
heard both her young mistress and Mrs. Cameron talk so much, her woman's
wits came to her aid again, and to herself she said:
"It's to Silverton Mrs. Cameron went, though how she could get there and
back so soon is a mystery to me, or why she went at all."
Then as she remembered all the circumstances which followed the dinner
for which Katy had dressed with so much care, and the burning of the
letter, a wild conjecture passed through her mind as to the nature of
the trouble which had taken Katy to Silverton in her husband's absence,
leaving a letter for him, and then burning it up when she came back,
accompanied by Dr. Grant. For that he did come with her Esther was sure,
as she saw him on the steps when she answered Katy's ring, and knew the
man who now sat in the parlor waiting for her to take his name to Katy
was the same.
"There is something in the wind," she thought, as she carried Morris'
name to Katy, who did not seem to hear, or if she did, she paid no heed,
but talked of the blinding snow, and the grave in St. Mary's churchyard,
which was no grave at all.
Her manner, more than her looks, frightened the girl, who retreated down
the stairs, meeting Morris in the hall, and saying as she grasped his
arm:
"You are a doctor, Dr. Grant. Come, then, to Mrs. Cameron. She is taken
out of her head, and talks so queer and raving."
Morris had expected this, but he was not prepared to find the fever so
high, or the symptoms so alarming.
"Shall I send for Mrs. Cameron and another doctor, please?" Esther
asked.
Morris had faith in himself, and he would rather no other hand should
minister to Katy; but he knew he could not stay there long, for there
were those at home who needed his services. Added to this, her family
physician might know her constitution now better than he knew it, and so
he answered that it would be well to send for both the doctor and Mrs.
Cameron.
It was growing dark now in the city, and the shadows were stealing into
the room where Morris sat down to wait for other counsel and the arrival
of Mrs. Cameron. To the servants in the kitchen Esther stated, with a
very matter-of-course air, that her mistress had come home, feeling
sick, and that as she seemed getting worse, she was to send to Madam
Cameron, adding that it was a piece of great good luck that Dr. Grant,
from Silverton, who was her cousin, happened to be in the city, and had
called just when he was needed the most.
"He was the doctor whom Jamie talked so much about," she said; "the
doctor whom the family met in Paris," dwelling so long on Dr. Grant and
discussing him so volubly that Phillips and the other servants lost
sight entirely of what had struck them a little oddly, to wit: that Mrs.
Wilford should leave Father Cameron's if she was so very sick.
It was Esther who met Mrs. Cameron in the hall, conducting her into the
parlor and adopting a different style of argument with her from that
used in the basement. "Mrs. Wilford was not well when her husband went
away; but of course he thought nothing of it, neither did
she--Esther--until to-day, when she came in from the street, looking
very badly, and going directly to her bed, where she had been growing
worse ever since."
"Yes," and Mrs. Cameron beat her foot thoughtfully. "I wish I had called
yesterday. I did speak of it, fearing she would be lonely."
"I dare say she was," Esther replied, never changing color in the least,
although somewhat afraid she was being driven to the wall. "She seemed
downcast all the morning, but went about noon. I thought maybe she would
call on you."
"I wish she had," Mrs. Cameron replied, and then Esther told her how
providential it was that a Dr. Grant from Silverton happened to come to
New York that very day. Of course he called upon his cousin, first
sending up his card, and then going himself when told that Mrs. Cameron
was out of her head and did not understand who was waiting to see her.
Completely befogged with regard to a part of the play enacting before
her eyes, Mrs. Cameron exclaimed: "Dr. Grant, of Silverton! I have the
utmost confidence in his skill. Still, it may be well for Dr. Craig to
see her. I think that is his ring."
The city and country physicians agreed exactly with regard to Katy's
illness, or rather the city physician bowed in acquiescence when Morris
said to him that the fever raging so high had perhaps been induced by
natural causes, but was greatly aggravated by some sudden shock to the
nervous system. This was before Mrs. Cameron came up, but it was
repeated in her presence by Dr. Craig, who thus left the impression that
the idea had originated with himself rather than with Dr. Grant, as
perhaps he thought it had. He was at first inclined to patronize the
country doctor, but soon found that he had reckoned without his host.
Morris knew more of Katy and quite as much of medicine as he did
himself, and when Mrs. Cameron begged him to stay longer he answered
that her son's wife was as safe in his brother physician's hands as she
could be in his.
"Indeed, she's safer," he added, "for Dr. Grant can watch her every
moment, and I leave her in his care, calling again of course in the
morning."
Mrs. Cameron was very glad that Dr. Grant was there, she said. It was
surely Providence who sent him to New York on that particular day, and
Morris shivered as he wondered if it were wrong not to explain the whole
to her.
"Perhaps it is best she should not know of Katy's journey to Silverton,"
he thought, and merely bowing to her remarks, he turned to Katy, who was
growing very restless and moaning as if in pain.
"It hurts," she said, turning her head from side to side; "I am lying on
Genevra."
With a sudden start Mrs. Cameron drew nearer, but when she remembered
the little grave at Silverton, she said: "It's the baby she's talking
about."
Morris knew better, and as Katy still continued to move her head as if
something were really hurting her, he passed his hand under her pillow
and drew out the picture which she had held as long as her consciousness
remained. He knew it was Genevra's picture, and was about to lay it away
when the cover dropped from his hand and his eye fell upon a face which
was not new to him, while an involuntary exclamation of surprise broke
from his lips as Katy's assertion that Genevra was living was thus fully
confirmed. Marian had not changed past recognition since her early
girlhood, and Morris knew the likeness at once, pitying Katy more than
he had pitied her yet, as he remembered how closely Marian Hazelton had
been interwoven with her married life and the life of the little child
which had borne her name.
"What is that?" Mrs. Cameron asked, and Morris passed the case to her,
saying: "A picture was under Katy's pillow."
Morris did not look at Mrs. Cameron, but tried to busy himself with the
medicines upon the stand, while she, too, recognized Genevra Lambert,
wondering how it came in Katy's possession, and how much she knew of
Wilford's secret.
"She most have been rummaging," she thought, and then, as she
remembered what Esther had said about her mistress appearing sick and
unhappy when her husband left, she repaired to the parlor and summoning
Esther to her presence, asked her again: "When she first observed traces
of indisposition in Mrs. Cameron."
Considerably flurried and anxious to prove true to Katy, Esther replied,
at random: "When she came home from that dinner at your house. She was
just as pale as death, and her teeth fairly chattered as I took off her
things."
"Dinner? What dinner?" Mrs. Cameron asked, and Esther replied: "Why, the
night Mr. Wilford went away or was to go. She changed her mind about
meeting him at your house and said she meant to surprise him. But she
came home before Mr. Cameron, looking like a ghost and saying she was
sick. It's my opinion something she ate at dinner hurt her."
"Very likely; yes. You can go now," Mrs. Cameron said, and Esther
departed, never dreaming how much light she had inadvertently thrown
upon the mystery.
"She must have been in the library and heard all we said," Mrs. Cameron
thought, as she nervously twisted the fringe of her breakfast shawl. "I
remember we talked of Genevra, and I remember, too, that we both heard a
strange sound from some quarter, but thought it came from the kitchen.
That was Katy. She was there all the time and let herself quietly out of
the house. I wonder does Wilford know," and then there came over her an
intense desire for Wilford to come home, a desire which was not lessened
when she returned to Katy's room and heard her talking of Genevra and
the grave at St. Mary's "where nobody was buried."
In a tremor of distress, lest she should betray something which Morris
must not know, Mrs. Cameron tried to hush her, talking as if it was the
baby she meant, the Genevra who died at Silverton; but Katy answered
promptly: "I'm not to be hoodwinked any longer. It's Genevra Lambert I
mean, Wilford's other wife; the one across the sea, whom you and he
browbeat. She was innocent, too--as innocent as I, whom you both
deceived."
Here was a phase of affairs for which Mrs. Cameron was not prepared,
and excessively mortified that Morris should hear Katy's ravings, she
tried again to quiet her, consoling herself with the reflection that as
Morris was Katy's cousin, he would not repeat what he heard, and feeling
gratified now that Dr. Craig was absent, as she could not be so sure of
him. If Katy's delirium continued, no one must be admitted to the room
except those who could be trusted, and as there had been already several
rings, she said to Esther that as the fever was probably malignant and
contagious, no one must be admitted to the house with the expectation of
seeing the patient, while the servants were advised to stay in their own
quarters, except as their services might be needed elsewhere. And so it
was that by the morrow the news had spread of some infectious disease at
No. ---- on Madison Square, which was shunned as carefully as if the
smallpox itself had been raging there instead of the brain fever, which
increased so fast that Morris suggested to Mrs. Cameron that she
telegraph for Wilford.
"They might find him, and they might not," Mark Ray said, when the
message came down to the office. "They could try, at all events," and in
a few moments the telegraphic wires were carrying the news of Katy's
illness, both to the West, where Wilford had gone, and to the East,
where Helen read with a blanched cheek that Katy perhaps was dying, and
she was needed again.
This was Mrs. Cameron's suggestion, wrung out by the knowing that some
woman besides herself was needed in the sickroom, and by the feeling
that Helen could be trusted with the story of the first marriage, which
Katy talked of constantly, telling it so accurately that only a fool
would fail of being convinced that there was much of truth in those
delirious ravings.