"A WOMAN OF NO NAME."
One day when Maud was sitting alone in the library by the fire reading,
a servant entered with word a lady who declined giving any name wished
to see Miss Midharst. She was, the servant said, a thin, tall, old lady,
dressed in black.
No ladies called at the Castle. What could this woman want? Maud
wondered. Who could she be? A tall, thin, old lady, dressed in black.
Had she asked by name for Miss Midharst?
"Yes; she said she wanted to see Miss Midharst. I asked her would Mrs.
Grant do, and she said No, she wanted to see Miss Midharst alone."
"Alone?"
"Alone."
Who could it be? The last person who had asked to see her and declined
to give a name was William. (She would write to William to-day and tell
him what she thought. It was a strange thing for her to have to write to
him. But she did not know what to do. William was her only friend. She
was afraid to speak to Mrs. Grant about it. If she mentioned the matter
to Mrs. Grant, no one could tell but it might get back to Mr. Grey's
ears, and that would never do. Never.) Ah, the servant is waiting yet.
"Where is the lady?"
"In the hall-room, madame."
"Tell her I will come to her at once."
Maud rose slowly and put down her book. As she moved along the
corridors, she thought:
"This is most unpleasant, it is terrible. My father is not yet two
months dead, and Mr. Grey's manner frightens me. At first I did not
notice it, but now--now I can have no doubt. He has not said anything
plain yet, but he can mean nothing else. He calls me Maud, and not Miss
Midharst. He takes my hand, too, when we are alone, and looks in my eyes
and frightens me. His eyes are queer. When he is looking at me he seems
suddenly to forget who I am, or where he is. It is only within the past
week I noticed this; and yesterday he looked at me with those awful
eyes, and begged me to be good to him and come, for God's sake, and take
the thing away from the dark passages and the doorways. Then he asked me
if I smelt blood, and burst out laughing, and said all this was part of
a play he was writing. Judas Iscariot, the hero of his play! What a
horrible thought!"
She reached the hall-room. It had long ago been used by the family as a
breakfast-parlour when few guests were at the Castle; for many years it
had been made a waiting-room.
Maud opened the door and entered. The day was cold, and she directed her
glance first towards the fire. No one was there, but she saw standing
with her back to the window a tall, thin, old woman.
The stranger did not move. She fixed her eyes on Maud, and stood staring
at the girl.
Maud moved slowly and timidly up the room. When within a couple of yards
of the other she said:
"I am Miss Midharst. You wish to see me. Will you not take a chair near
the fire?"
"Yes, I wanted to see you. I want to see you."
She did not move. Her voice was firm and hard, with a tone of menace in
it.
"I--I cannot recall your face, and the servant did not bring your name."
"We never met before. The servant did not bring you any name, for I have
none. I am a woman of no name."
"A woman with no name!" cried Maud, with a feeble attempt at a smile.
There was no provocation for smiles in the words or manner of the
unknown, and Maud felt uneasy.
"Yes; I once had an honourable name, and was connected with honourable
people who bore it. But that name was dishonoured by one who owned it,
and the name died. My name would not live dishonoured." The voice was
firm and hard still, and the original pose unbroken.
"I am sorry for that," murmured Maud, not knowing anything else to say.
What a contrast between this unknown visitor and the former! And yet,
although a strong contrast appeared, there was a subtler similarity.
"And I am sorry for you."
Maud started and repeated: "Sorry for me! Why are you sorry for me?"
"Because you are young. I used once, until lately, to think it a
privilege to be young; now I consider it a privilege to be very old or
dead."
Maud felt more and more uncomfortable. This was not a cheerful way of
looking at things. Maud had quite enough unpleasant matters to occupy
her mind, and she was quite unstrung. What business had this woman with
her? She would try. She spoke somewhat tremulously:
"Can I be of any use to you?"
"No. Nor can I be of much to you."
"To me!" said Maud in surprise. "I hope no one has been asking you to
do anything unreasonable for me. Of course, as I did not know you until
now, and never heard your name, you will excuse my not thanking you for
what you may have done for me."
"I have done nothing for you but evil."
"Evil! I assure you you must be mistaken. No one has done me harm, as
far as I know."
"But there may be evil you do not know of, and I may have been the
innocent cause of it."
"But if you were innocent you must not trouble yourself about it; and
besides, whatever the harm was, it has not hurt me, so that you must
make your mind easy."
"The evil may be done, and yet unfelt, and may be felt later on, and the
evil may not be done yet."
"I do not clearly understand you."
"I do not intend you should. I do not know why I have spoken so much. I
cannot say more. I have merely called to deliver into your hands a
parcel of some consequence. The contents of this parcel is yours. I said
I cannot do much for you. I can do no more than give you this. You must
promise me not to open this parcel until to-morrow morning. You need not
be afraid of it. The things in it are good things. You promise?" The
woman held out her hand with a small parcel in it.
"Yes," answered Maud, taking the parcel.
At that moment the door opened, and a voice said:
"I beg your pardon, Miss Midharst; I did not know there was anyone
here."
Maud turned round, and saw Henry Walter Grey smiling and bowing in the
doorway. With the handle of the door still in his hand, he took a
backward step, when the old woman said:
"Come in. I have finished with Miss Midharst."
At the sound of the voice Grey sprang back a step, thrust his head
forward, and uttered a low cry of surprise and pain.
Maud moved towards him, saying:
"Are you ill, Mr. Grey? Are you ill?"
His face was shrivelled and his mouth hung open.
Before Maud could take another step the hand of the old woman was on her
shoulder, and the voice of the old woman was in her ear, firm and hard
as before:
"Remember your promise! Good-bye."
With erect head, bright eyes, and a quick step, the stranger walked to
the door, on the outside of which Grey stood paralysed. He bowed and
groaned as she approached, and as she passed him he crouched against
the wall.
She swept by him without looking at him, turned the corner of the
corridor and passed out of sight.
Maud, transfixed with amazement, stood where the old woman had arrested
her.
When the stranger had disappeared, Grey made a prodigious effort, shook
himself, assumed a sickly smile, and straightened his figure.
The action of the banker dissolved the stupefaction of the girl, and she
moved rapidly towards the door to escape. Just as she reached it the
manner of the man suddenly changed. His face became dark and
threatening, and he bounded into the doorway, barring the exit and
crying:
"Stop! I must speak with you before you leave the room!"
The girl recoiled in terror, and began with "Mr. Grey!" in a tone of
fear and expostulation.
"Go back. I say I _must_ speak with you before you leave this room!"
She struggled with herself for a moment, and then summoned courage
enough to begin with:
"By what right, Mr. Grey----"
"By any right or by any wrong you must speak with me. Do I look like a
child, or a fool, or a woman?"
His manner was vehement and over-powering. For an instant she resolved
to defy him, but by a powerful sweep of his arm he indicated that denial
was out of the question. With a palpitating heart and confused head she
stepped back into the room.
He followed her and locked the door. When she heard him do this her
strength gave way altogether, and she sank on a chair.
He walked up and down the room some time before he spoke.
"Tell me, what did that wretched woman say to you? What was her business
with you? What brought her here?"
"She told me she had wronged me innocently."
"How?"
"She would not say."
"What do you mean, girl? Do you dare to tell me she said she had wronged
you and did not tell you how?" He drew up in front of her chair.
"Yes."
"Is that a lie?"
"Is what a lie?"
"Have you, girl, told me a lie?"
"Mr. Grey, I----"
"Girl, I will have no pretty sentiments! I am talking business now. Such
business as you never even heard of. You may not know the results
hanging on your words. Did that wretched woman tell you the injuries she
had done you?"
"She did not." Maud felt she should faint.
"Listen to me now, girl: this is business. Attach ten thousand times
more value to the answers you are going to make me than to any other
answers you gave in all your life. My question is: What names did she
mention?"
"None. She mentioned no name."
"Absolutely and literally no name?"
"She mentioned no name."
"Not even her own?"
"Not even her own."
"But you know, of course, who she is?"
"I never saw her before. I do not know who she is."
"The servants know her name."
"Jordan told me a lady wished to see me in private. He did not know her
name."
"Are you sure of all this?"
"Yes."
"What was her business with you?"
"She left me that packet on the table."
"Did she say nothing about it?"
"That it contained something of mine, and that I was not to open it
until to-morrow morning."
"Is that all?"
"That is all."
"Swear it to me."
"Mr. Grey!"
"I know; but swear all the same."
"I will not."
"Then you have been lying."
"I have not. How dare you say such a thing, Mr. Grey!"
"Well, there, Maud, dear Maud, let us drop the comedy. I am afraid I
have carried it too far already. You know really who the poor creature
is?"
"I have told you I do not."
"She is a harmless old woman who is mad on religion, and goes about
doing this kind of thing, and leaving bundles of tracts like this." He
took up the parcel off the table. "She must not be allowed in here
again. I will give orders that she shall not be admitted. And now can
you guess the reason for my comedy?"
"I cannot."
"It was, dear Maud, because I heard to-day there is some chance of the
will being disputed, and I wanted to try how you would go through the
ordeal of a severe cross-examination. And I must say, anything to equal
my Maud's admirable coolness I never saw. You did not for a moment fancy
I was in earnest?"
"I don't know what I thought. I was greatly frightened."
"Well, I admit I did go too far. But it was in your own interest, dear
Maud--in your own interest. You are all right again, dear Maud?"
He took her hand in his.
"I feel a little nervous and hysterical. Please open the door and let me
go."
"Certainly; it was carrying the joke too far to lock the door; but I was
borne away by the spirit of the thing. You will forgive me."
"Oh, yes."
"Well, dear Maud, good-bye now. You are leaving your parcel of tracts
behind you. Never mind; I'll read them for you."
When she had left the room he took up the parcel, dropped it into his
pocket, and started at once for the city.
That day Maud wrote to her cousin, Sir William Midharst. The concluding
paragraph of her letter ran thus:
"I do not know what is the matter with Mr. Grey; his manner terrifies
me. If you can, come back at once."