THE ROYAL LUNATIC.
When Mrs. Kenyon recovered from her swoon, she saw Dr. Fox bending over
her.
"You are recovering," he said. "You mustn't give way like this, my good
madam."
It all came back to her--her desertion, and the terrible imprisonment
which awaited her.
"Where is my husband--where is Mr. Kenyon?" she demanded imperatively.
Dr. Fox shrugged his shoulders.
"I wish you to send him here at once, or to take me to him."
"Quite impossible, my dear madam. He has gone."
"Mr. Kenyon gone, and left me here!"
"It is for your own good, my dear madam. I hope soon to restore you to
him."
It was as she expected, and the first shock being over, she took
the announcement calmly. But her soul was stirred with anger and
resentment, for she was a woman of spirit.
"This is all a base plot," she said scornfully. "Has Mr. Kenyon--have
you--the assurance to assert that my mind is disordered?"
"Unhappily there is no doubt of it," said the doctor, in a tone of
affected regret. "Your present excitement shows it."
"My excitement! Who would not be excited at being entrapped in such a
way? But I quite comprehend Mr. Kenyon's motives. How much does he pay
you for your share in this conspiracy?"
"He pays your board on my usual terms," said Dr. Fox composedly. "I
have agreed to do my best to cure you of your unhappy malady, but I can
do little while you suffer yourself to become so excited."
His tone was significant, and contained a menace, but for this Mrs.
Kenyon cared little. She had been blind, but she was clear-sighted now.
She felt that it was her husband's object to keep her in perpetual
imprisonment. Thus only could his ends be attained.
She was silent for a moment. She perceived that craft must be met with
craft, and that it was best to control her excitement. She would speak
her mind, however, to avoid being misunderstood.
"I will not judge you, Dr. Fox," she said. "Possibly Mr. Kenyon may
have deceived you for his own purposes. If you are really skilled in
mental diseases you will soon perceive that I am as sane as you are
yourself."
"When I make that discovery I will send you back to your husband," said
the doctor with oily suavity.
"I shall never return to my husband," said Mrs. Kenyon coldly. "I only
ask to be released. I hope your promise is made in good faith."
"Certainly it is; but, my dear madam, let me beg you to lay aside this
prejudice against your husband, who sincerely regrets the necessity of
your temporary seclusion from the world."
Mrs. Kenyon smiled bitterly.
"I understand Mr. Kenyon probably better than you do," she said. "We
won't discuss him now. But if I am to remain here, even for a short
time, I have a favor to ask."
"You may ask it, certainly," said the doctor, who did not, however,
couple with the permission any promise to grant the request.
"Or, rather, I have two requests to make," said Mrs. Kenyon.
"Name them."
"The first is, to be supplied with pens, ink, and paper, that I may
communicate with my friends."
"Meaning your husband?"
"He is not my friend, but I shall address one letter to him."
"Very well. You shall have what you require. You can hand the letters
to me, and I will have them posted."
"You will not read them?"
"It is our usual rule to read all letters written from this
establishment, but in your case we will waive the rule, and allow them
to go unread. What is your second request?"
"I should like a room alone," said Mrs. Kenyon, glancing at Cleopatra,
who was sitting on the side of the bed listening to the conversation.
"I am sorry that I can't grant that request," said the doctor. "The
fact is, my establishment is too full to give anyone a single room."
"But you won't keep me in the same room with a----"
"What do you call me?" interrupted Cleopatra angrily. "Do you mean to
say I am crazy? You ought to feel proud of having the Queen of Egypt
for a room-mate. I will make you the Mistress of the Robes."
All this was ludicrous enough, considering the shabby attire of the
self-styled queen, but Mrs. Kenyon did not feel in a laughing humor.
She did not reply, but glanced meaningly at the door.
"I am sure you will like Cleopatra," he said, adding, with a wink
unobserved by the Egyptian sovereign, "she is the only sane person in
my establishment."
Cleopatra nodded in a tone of satisfaction.
"You hear what he says?" she said, turning to Mrs. Kenyon.
The latter saw that it was not wise to provoke one who would probably
be her room-mate.
"I don't object to her," she said; "but to anyone. Give me any room,
however small, so that I occupy it alone."
"Impossible, my dear madam," said her keeper decisively. "I can assure
you that Cleopatra, though confined here for political reasons," here
he bowed to the royal lunatic, "never gives any trouble, but is quite
calm and patient."
"Thank you, doctor," said Cleopatra. "You understand me. Did you
forward my last letter to Mark Antony?"
"Yes, your Majesty. I have no doubt he will answer it as soon as his
duties in the field will permit."
"Where is he now?"
"I think he is heading an expedition somewhere in Asia Minor."
"Very well," nodded Cleopatra. "As soon as a letter comes, send it to
me."
"At once," said the doctor. "You must look after this lady, and cheer
her up."
"Yes, I will. What is your name?"
"My name used to be Conrad. You may call me that."
She shrank from wearing the name of the man who had confined her in
this terrible asylum.
"That isn't classical. I will call you Claudia--may I?"
"You may call me anything you like," said Mrs. Kenyon wearily.
"When will you send me the paper and ink?" she asked.
"They shall be sent up at once."
Ten minutes later, writing materials were brought. Anxious to do
something which might lead to her release, she sat down and wrote
letters to two gentlemen of influence with whom she was acquainted,
giving the details of the plot which had been so successfully carried
out against her liberty.
Cleopatra watched her curiously. Presently she said:
"Will you let me have a sheet of your paper? I wish to write a letter
to Mark Antony."
"Certainly," said Mrs. Kenyon, regarding her with pity and sympathy.
The other seated herself and wrote rapidly, in an elegant feminine
hand, which surprised Mrs. Kenyon. She did not know that the poor lady
had once been classical teacher in a prominent female seminary, and
that it was a disappointment in love which had alienated her mind and
reduced her to her present condition.
"Shall I read you the letter?" she enquired.
"If you like."
It was a very well written appeal to her imaginary correspondent to
hasten to her and restore her to her throne.
"I thought," said Mrs. Kenyon cautiously, "that Mark Antony died many
centuries ago."
"Quite a mistake, I assure you. Who could have told you such nonsense,
Claudia?" demanded Cleopatra sharply.
"You are quite sure, then?"
"Of course. You will begin to say next that Cleopatra is dead."
"I thought so."
"That is because I have remained here so long in concealment. The world
supposes me dead, but the time will come when people will learn their
mistake. Have you finished your letters?"
"Yes."
"When they send us our supper you can send them to the doctor."
"Will he be sure to post them?" asked Mrs. Kenyon, with a natural
suspicion.
"Of course. Doesn't he always send my letters to Mark Antony?"
This was not as satisfactory as it might have been.
"Have you ever received any answers?" asked Mrs. Kenyon.
"Here is a letter from Mark Antony," said Cleopatra, taking a dirty and
crumpled note from her pocket. "Read it, Claudia."
This was the note:
FAIR CLEOPATRA:
I have read your letter, my heart's sovereign, and I kiss the hand
that wrote it. I am driving the enemy before me, and hope soon to
kneel before you, crowned with laurels. Be patient, and soon expect
your captive,
MARK ANTONY.
"Is it not a beautiful letter?" asked Cleopatra proudly.
"Yes," said Mrs. Kenyon, feeling it best to humor her delusion.