OLD SINS AWAKENED.
Andria’s heart contracted where she sat in the pleasant, green-shaded
room. The three colored women had made nothing of carrying the
unconscious man into an unused room in the upper story of the servants’
quarters; Salome’s eyes had told Andria he must not be taken into the
big house. And there in the spotless bareness of the darkened chamber
Andria had sat ever since, like a woman who sees a ghost, waiting for
this man who knew her to come to his senses.
For he knew her quite well. He had been a friend of Raimond Erle’s, had
believed like the rest of London that the woman who was called “the
lovely Andria” had been the true cause of his financial ruin. When he
found what she was doing here, would he warn Beryl what a wicked woman
she was who masqueraded as a governess and guardian?
She lifted her bowed head to look at him, and saw he had wakened from
the heavy sleep that had come on him after his fainting-fit.
“Mrs. Erle,” he said again stupidly.
She walked over to him swiftly.
“I’m not Mrs. Erle; I never was!” she said, with a kind of passion. “My
name is Andria Heathcote, but they call me Holbeach here.”
“But----”
“I know,” she cut him short. “I have begun again. I am Beryl’s
governess, the girl who brought you home. She knows my real name, but I
told her I called myself Holbeach for reasons of my own.”
“Governess!” he said, staring.
“I’m not fit, you think!” she said bitterly.
“I would not say so,” said the man slowly, and the blood came to his
face.
“You think I’m bad--an--adventuress----”
“I think you ruined Raimond Erle,” he answered bluntly.
With a queer gesture she put her hand to her heart as if it hurt her.
This man was of the world, would judge as the world; and he could tell.
“I----” She could not finish. A man who did not know her would have
been a rock of defense, to whom she could have told everything. This
man would never believe she was not in Egerton’s pay, to get rid of
Beryl Corselas. He would remember the evil places, the evil company he
had seen her in; would think it right to destroy Beryl’s faith in the
only soul she trusted.
No! Let him think this was an ordinary house, she masquerading as an
ordinary governess. Salome said it would be weeks before he could walk;
let him stay here in this secluded room, where no noises would wake
him. He was only another burden, not a help.
“Mr. Heriot,” she said quietly, “you will do as you like, of course,
about airing what you know of me. But if you will wait you will see
perhaps that I’m not all bad--not what you may think. Don’t tell Beryl
that I was Andria Erle till you see reason to mistrust me,” and even
while she spoke she knew he would see reason enough as soon as Beryl’s
careless, indifferent tongue told the queer story of Egerton and the
happenings in this evil house. No sane person would believe that if
such things were possible in this every-day world the woman Egerton
paid was not on his side in them. And what Egerton’s side was did not
puzzle Andria, if it did Salome.
“I don’t go about blackmailing people,” said Heriot coldly. “Don’t look
so nervous.”
“But you don’t think I ought to be in the house with any girl,” she
said quietly, and he could not see the bitterness in her face.
“If you ask me,” unwillingly, “no! But God knows I can’t throw the
first stone at you, especially when you take me in and nurse me,” but
the old dislike of her and her kind was in his voice as he spoke.
“Then try and think kindly of me,” she broke out, and there were tears
in the eyes he had always seen so hard. “I have begun again; I’ve put
all that behind me.” With a gesture of loathing he understood.
“My dear lady,” he returned quickly, “don’t plead like that! It is
no business of mine what you were. I see you here as Miss Holbeach,
and--as for the girl, I am not her keeper.”
“No, but I am!” she retorted, for his tone hurt unbearably. “And keep
her I will. I will send your dinner now,” she said, with a change of
manner that said more for her self-control than her honesty; “it is
nearly six o’clock; you must be starving.”
“Tell me,” said Heriot quickly, “who is the child? What did she mean
this morning by saying she was frightened?”
He was not prepared for the look on Mrs. Erle’s face.
“Frightened!” she stammered. “What of--did she say? Not of those
horrible cats?”
“If you mean jaguar cubs, she was playing with them. No; some one dumb,
she said, who leered and mouthed at her--and I thought I saw a queer
face myself, too!”
Involuntarily Andria did the worst thing possible.
“You were hurt and half-senseless,” she returned coolly. “You imagined
you saw what the child romanced about.”
But he had seen her dismayed and confounded face, and knew she lied.
“That woman here!” he thought, as she left the room, shutting his eyes
and seeing her as he had seen her in Raimond Erle’s house, covered with
diamonds, surrounded by the worst men in town. “And with that innocent,
fairy-tale sort of child and her queer pets. Why did she lie to me just
now? And why are either of them here? This must be Flores or Corvo; one
of the Azores, anyhow! And what is she about to let things frighten the
girl?”
The whole thing made him thoughtful. Were there only the governess
and the girl--where were the master and mistress? Intuitively the man
felt there was something wrong. With a resistless impulse to see at
least where he was, he managed to drag himself over to the window.
Through the half-open jalousy he saw a small, stone courtyard, strong
as a prison, shaded by a high building from the sinking sun. And as he
stared voices floated up to him.
“Salome, she saw--you know something that jabbered at her! She told
him. What shall we do?”
“Why’d she tell him?” The second voice was richer, more guttural. “Oh,
my glory, missus! Mr. Egerton----” and the rest was in a whisper.
“I know. This man won’t help us, Salome!”
“No! An’ if Mr. Egerton he come back and find him here, de onliest
thing dat’ll happen is de Death Trap.”
“What do you mean?” But the voice was not surprised, only appalled.
“Pray he don’t find out. Best keep Miss Ber’l away from him. If she
tells him things, an’ he sees--he’ll go out fur to fight! And you
knows, missus,” earnestly, “he might have friends. Dey’d be coming
round asking for him. Onless you kin trust him to help us?” with a
searching accent that was an entreaty.
“He’ll never help us. He’ll be against us, not for us,” bitterly. “You
daren’t tell, Salome?”
“Den if he won’t help us, de sooner he goes de better. I can’t tell.
Ain’t nothin’ to me, one white man! An’ if Mr. Egerton finds people
spyin’ round here, it’s de end of me, sure!”
“He can’t hear anything up there?”
“No! No more’n ’Melia Jane does. Onless little miss screams!”
“She sha’n’t scream!”
Heriot drew away from the window, but not so far that he did not see
Andria Erle cross the courtyard with a light, quick step that went ill
with the grim sound in her voice.