IN THE EAST CHAMBER.
For a moment Violet stood irresolute. It seemed wrong for her to obey
the instructions of Mrs. Yorke’s servant and visit the mysterious
chamber all alone; but then she knew that old Betty was a confidential
servant, that she had served Mrs. Yorke faithfully for years, and that
she knew much concerning the private history of the Yorkes. But that
Betty had some object in impressing upon Violet the desirability of
visiting the east chamber, was only too apparent.
Violet stood turning the question over in her mind for some moments.
A strange desire to visit the east chamber began to take possession
of her heart--a desire augmented by the unusual circumstances and
surroundings of the case.
“After all, Mrs. Yorke can have no objection,” she said to herself,
decisively; “and it is an understood thing that we are all to make a
visit to this historic room while we are at the Towers, and if I choose
to go there by myself, I do not know that I am doing anything very
improper. And if old Betty Harwood had not been intrusted with the key,
how could she have it in her possession? Therefore, she must have some
authority in the matter. On the whole, I believe that I will go.”
It seemed quite like visiting a modern Bluebeard’s chamber. There was
a spice of adventure in the affair, and the hour, too, was propitious
for such an adventure; for it was twilight now. The long, narrow
passage which led to the east chamber lay in darkness. Violet felt a
little thrill of terror creep slowly over her as she passed through the
deepening gloom.
“Well, if I intend to go at all I had better make a start,” she
exclaimed, half aloud, with a sudden movement in the direction of the
long, gloomy passage, “or I shall be compelled to get a light to find
my way.”
She moved on hastily down the long, dark, narrow passage--on, on!
Surely never was a corridor so long and gloomy before. On, on! Her
outstretched hands came in contact with the great oaken door of the
mysterious chamber at last, and Violet came to an abrupt halt as her
hands touched the stout panel. Then she guided the key to the lock,
inserted it, and turned it swiftly. She felt a nervous desire to get
the visit to this chamber of horrors over with. Now that she had begun
the adventure, she would not give up or retreat.
Slowly the heavy door creaked upon its rusty hinges, and a great dusty
space lay revealed beyond her--the east chamber. Trembling in spite
of herself, Violet crossed the threshold and stood within the room. A
damp, musty odor greeted her; the vault-like atmosphere of a room shut
up from fresh air for years, only opened at long intervals to gratify
some one’s curiosity. Violet drew a long breath, and stood gazing about
her with fear-dilated eyes. A large, bare room containing absolutely
no furniture--nothing, only over in one corner upon the dusty floor
a small heap of ashes, which had blown from the empty fireplace, and
lay piled up there suggestively. Violet thought involuntarily of the
dead man, the poor sinner who had met his awful fate, the lingering,
dreadful death from slow starvation, within this dreary room, and for
just a moment she half believed that the little heap of feathery gray
ashes lying before her at her very feet were the ashes of the dead--all
that remained of that which had been Wayne Arleigh, her ancestor. But
second thoughts assured her of the impossibility of such a thing.
Surely, neither the Yorkes nor Arleighs were such heathens as to leave
the ashes of the dead unburied, no matter what the crime of the dead
man might have been.
With slow, reluctant steps, and trembling all over like a leaf, Violet
stole softly to the furthest corner of the room and gazed eagerly
about her. Where could she search for papers hidden away in this bare,
utterly unfurnished apartment?
All at once a sound broke the awful silence of the place, the sound of
a stealthy footstep creeping slowly near.
Her heart beat so loudly that she could hear it distinctly; the cold
perspiration stood in clammy drops upon her forehead. She stood still
and listened.
It was enough to terrify a stouter heart than Violet Arleigh’s; for
she knew well that this portion of the great house was deserted, and
no one knew of her visit to the east chamber, save old Betty. The
footsteps must be those of some marauder, or else could it be something
supernatural?
A vague and undefined terror of she knew not what took possession of
the girl. Pale and trembling she stood there, not knowing which way to
turn; and slowly but surely the footsteps drew near and nearer. They
did not seem to come from the same direction from which she had come;
they sounded apparently from the left side; yet Violet knew that there
was nothing there but the wall of the house.
What should she do? Here in the darkness--for it was nearly dark now
within the ghostly chamber--she would be compelled to face an unknown
presence. It was enough to terrify a stronger heart than hers.
On, on, came the ghostly footsteps. Violet turned to fly. She _could
not_ stand quietly within that horrible chamber to face this unknown
terror. She would meet it half-way.
Pale and panting, she darted to the door. It was pushed softly open
wide, and a man stood before her. One glance into his face, and Violet
recoiled with a low cry of terror. Ah! this was worse than ghosts or
supernatural visions, for the man before her was Gilbert Warrington!
With an inarticulate cry Violet fell back. Warrington put his arms
about her and drew her to his breast.
“I have come to you here in this ghostly room,” he said, in a low,
impressive voice. “I have been waiting and watching for this hour to
come; and now that it is here, Violet Arleigh, you shall go with me
this very night!”
Violet drew back and faced the villain before her with pale face and
kindling eyes. Well, at least this was something tangible to combat.
Better to face a real danger than to fear some dreadful visitant from
another world.
“How came you here?” she demanded, harshly. “Who has betrayed me to
you?”
He laughed.
“Ah! so you come here alone, at dark, to search for certain documents
which you fondly believe concern your welfare?” he sneered. “But
between you and me, Violet, you will never get your hands upon them.
When you are my wife, then and then only will you come into possession
of the papers and secure your rights. You had better yield to me and
become my wife at once, Violet. I do not love you, but I intend to have
the Arleigh fortune.”
She waited to hear no more. With a stifled cry she darted past him so
swiftly that he had no time to detain her--on through the darkness,
down the outer staircase, out into the grounds, and straight into the
arms of a man coming swiftly up the walk from the opposite direction.
It was Will Venners. And just then, at the library window, a few feet
away, Leonard Yorke appeared, his moody eyes fixed upon the scene,
taking it all in.
[Illustration]