A MURDEROUS FURY.
Hours slipped away while the beautiful fiend, so young in years, so
old in the conception of crime, crouched in her seat, waiting, musing,
pondering on the best schemes for ridding herself of those who stood in
her way.
She was eager as a wild beast to strike quickly and finish the awful
work she had set herself to do.
It seemed to her that she might never have another such opportunity for
ending Edmund Clarke's life as was offered to her by the conditions of
the present moment.
It was most important to get rid of him, she knew, and the sooner
the better for the safety of her position as heiress of the Clarke
millions. Let him die first, and she could attend to the others
afterward.
At the dark, gloomy hour of midnight, while the icy winds wailed around
the house like a banshee, Roma went groping through the pitch-black
corridors toward the room where Mr. Clarke lay sleeping with his
gentle, loving wife by his side.
Like a sleek, beautiful panther the girl crept into the unlocked door,
knowing the room so well that she could find her way to the bedside in
the darkness, and put out her stealthy, murderous hand, with the bottle
of poison in it, seeking for the glass that held the sleeping potion
Doctor Jay had prescribed.
Her heart beat with evil exultation, for it seemed to her that her
errand could scarcely fail of success. Edmund Clarke was sound asleep,
she knew by his deep breathing, and she decided that, after pouring the
poison into the glass, she would make enough noise in escaping from
the room to arouse him fully, so that he would be sure to swallow the
second dose ere sleeping again.
It was a clever plan, cleverly conceived, and in another moment it
would be executed, and no earthly power could save the victim from
untimely death.
But in her haste Roma made one fatal mistake.
In groping for the glass, she held the vial with the arsenic clasped in
her hand.
And she was very nervous, her white hands trembling as they fluttered
over the little medicine stand by the head of the bed.
That was why, the next moment, there came the sharp clink of glass
against glass as her hands came in contact with what she sought,
overturning and breaking both, with such a sharp, keen, crystalline
tinkle that both the sleepers were aroused suddenly and quickly, and
Mr. Clarke flung out his arms, clutching Roma ere she could escape, and
demanding bewilderedly:
"What is the matter? Who is this?"
"Edmund! Edmund!" cried his equally startled wife, hastily lighting
a night lamp close to her arm, in time to see Roma writhing and
struggling in her father's arms.
"Roma!" he panted.
"Roma!" echoed his wife.
It was a situation to strike terror to the girl's guilty heart.
But in her scheming she had not failed to take into account any
possible contretemps.
Failing in her efforts to escape before her identity was detected, Roma
laughed aloud, hysterically:
"Dear papa, do not squeeze me so hard, please; you take away my
breath! Why, you must take me for a burglar!"
Edmund Clarke, releasing her and not yet fully awake, stammered
drowsily:
"Yes--I--took--you--for--a--burglar. What do you want, Roma?"
"Yes, what is the matter, my dear?" added Mrs. Clarke wonderingly,
while Roma, mistress of the situation still, pressed her hand to her
cheek, groaning hysterically:
"Oh, papa, mamma, forgive me for arousing you, but I am suffering so
much with a wretched toothache, and I came to ask you for some medicine
to ease it!"
"Poor dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Clarke, with immediate maternal sympathy,
as she rose quickly from her bed and motioned Roma into her dressing
room, searching for remedies within a little medicine case while she
plied her with questions.
"When did it begin to ache, dear? Why didn't you send Dolly for the
medicine? It will make you worse, coming along the cold corridors!"
"For goodness' sake, don't tease! Give me the medicine quick as you
can!" Roma answered crossly, dropping into a chair and hiding her face
in her hands, her whole form shaking with fury at the failure of her
scheme to kill Edmund Clarke.
A blind, terrible rage possessed her, and she would have liked to
spring upon him and clutch his throat with murderous hands.
But she dare not give way to her murderous impulse; she must wait and
try her luck again, for die he must, and that very soon.
She could only wreak her pent-up rage by cross answers to the gentle
lady she called mother, and Mrs. Clarke, with a patient sigh of wounded
feeling, turned to her, replying:
"I did not mean to tease you, Roma, but here is some medicine. Put five
drops of it upon this bit of cotton and press it into the cavity of
your tooth, and it will give you speedy relief. In the morning you must
visit a dentist."
Roma lifted her pale face, and answered:
"Yes, I will visit a dentist, but not one at Stonecliff. I will go to
Boston by the early train."
"I will go with you and do some shopping," said her mother, who had a
very feminine love of finery.
"Very well," the girl answered, scowling behind her hand, for she
preferred to go alone on her mission to Granny Jenks.
But she realized that it would not do to offend the only person who
seemed to have any real fondness for her, so, making a wry face behind
her hand, she went up to Mrs. Clarke, saying gently:
"I did not mean to be cross to you, dear mamma, but I am in such agony
with this pain that I could not help my impatience. I want you to
forgive me and try not to love me any less for my faults, please."
Mrs. Clarke could not help wondering what favor Roma was planning to
ask for now, but she answered sweetly:
"I forgive you, dear, and, of course, I shall always love my daughter."
"But papa does not love me much. I often meet his glance fixed on me in
cold disapproval, and at times he is very stern to me!" complained Roma.
"That must be your fancy, dear. He could not help loving you, his own
daughter, dearly and fondly," soothed the lady, though she knew that
she had herself noticed and complained of the same thing in her husband.
"You do not love Roma as I do," she had said to him, reproachfully,
many times, getting always an evasive, unsatisfactory reply.
So she could not offer her much comfort on this score; she could only
put her arm about the form of the arch traitress, murmuring kind,
tender words, actually getting in return a loving caress that surprised
her very much, it was so unusual.
But Roma for the first time in her life comprehended the necessity of
fortifying her position by a staunch ally like her mother.
"I will go back to my room now. I must not keep you up any longer in
the cold, dear, patient mamma," she cried gushingly, as she kissed her
and left the room.
Mrs. Clarke was grateful for the caress, but she retired to bed with
the firm conviction that it would take a very large check indeed to
gratify Roma's desires in Boston to-morrow. Her affectionate spells
were always very costly to her parents.
"Do you think I had better take the second dose of that sedative? I am
very nervous from my sudden awakening, and wish we had locked the door
on retiring," her husband said petulantly.
"It would be very unkind to lock the door on our own daughter. Roma
was just now lamenting your sternness and lack of love and sympathy,"
returned the lady.
Edmund Clarke stifled an imprecation between his teeth, then demanded
earnestly:
"Have I ever failed in love and sympathy to you, dear Elinor?"
"Never, my darling husband," she answered, fondly clasping his hand.
"And never will my love fail you, dearest; but I cannot say as much
for Roma, whose nature is so unlike yours that I confess she repels
instead of attracts me," he exclaimed, reaching out for the medicine
and exclaiming impatiently on finding the glass broken and the draught
lost.
Ah, how nearly it had been a fatal draught, had not Heaven interposed
to save his life!
As he set it back on the table, he added:
"Why, here is a broken vial on the table beside the glass. I wonder how
it came there!"
"I do not know; but it really does not matter, dear. There, now, shut
your eyes, and try to sleep," advised his wife, knowing the importance
of sound, healthful sleep to the convalescent.
But to her dismay he arose and turned the key in the lock, saying as he
lay down again:
"I'll try to sleep now; but I'll make sure first of not being disturbed
again."