When Lorin Armstrong descended the stairs after his interview with Mrs.
Vandeleur he felt that he had secured a valuable ally.
If any one could coax from Lina the reason for her conduct it was
the little gray witch, whose manner inspired and almost compelled
confidence, and who, however much or little she might understand the
world of spirits, was marvellously quick in finding out anything she
wanted to know about matters pertaining to this earth.
It had been arranged between them that he should call at noon on the
following day, by which time Mrs. Vandeleur was to have had a long
interview with Lorin's recalcitrant love-lady. Had the matter rested
with him the young man would have gladly waited on the doorstep of
Number Twenty-one throughout the whole of that evening, or, with
equal celerity, would have presented himself there before dawn on the
following day. But Mrs. Vandeleur clearly was not a woman to be hurried
in well-doing, and she had no intention of either detaining Lorin this
evening or of putting in an appearance before her usual time on the
next morning, solely because her secretary had tried to quarrel with
her sweetheart.
Lorin had therefore to content himself with impressing upon her the
vital importance to his very existence of a speedy reconciliation
between himself and his divinity, and had then perforce to depart,
full of new hopefulness, until, at the foot of the stairs, he found
gleaming at him across the dimly-lighted hall the strange green eyes of
Clare Cavan.
Meeting with the girl at this exact moment affected Lorin unpleasantly
as an evil omen. From the artist's point of view he admired her
immensely, and often hoped he might some day have time and opportunity
to sketch her as Vivien tempting Merlin. She was an ideal Vivien,
but that fabled lady was also a more or less sinister personage, and
at this moment it clearly appeared as though mockery gleamed in Miss
Cavan's cat-like eyes and echoed through her purring accents.
"Oh, Mr. Armstrong, I am so sorry you are off just as I have come back!
I have never yet been able to offer you my congratulations on your
engagement. It was so very sudden, you see, and Lina has said so very
little about it. But perhaps I am premature?"
"Not at all," he returned, coolly. "So far as I am concerned I heartily
wish my marriage with Miss Grahame could take place to-morrow."
"How perfectly sweet! But you men are all like that; you want us
poor little women to scamper off to the altar without a thought of
_chiffons_ and bridal costume, and frocks and shoes and gloves and
those pretty things which will perhaps last us longer than all your
much-vaunted affection! I've been quite longing to meet you for another
reason, too. Your cousin and namesake called on us on Sunday afternoon,
and I think he is perfectly delightful! So humorous and original, and
so unlike the ordinary men one meets in drawing-rooms. I assure you we
all found him simply irresistible! Didn't Lina tell you so?"
"I really can't recall it."
"Oh, Mr. Armstrong, I do really believe you are jealous! But I assure
you Lina will never have a chance of talking to your cousin while I
am about. I do so love eccentrics. And I have just been hearing the
quaintest stories about him from my friends the Fitzroy-Cleavers."
Lorin winced. The cat-claws showed through the fur in that last thrust,
and he felt he hated the girl and her malignant tongue.
"I am glad my cousin pleased you, Miss Cavan," he said, quietly, "and
that his conversation was so well suited to your taste."
She flushed ever so slightly under his remark.
"Shall I tell you a secret?" she asked, assuming her most ingenuous and
innocent air. "Women always like that type of man the best, whatever
else they may pretend. There's a confession! You must go after that.
But you'll find some day that I'm right."
As soon as she had closed the door upon him, Clare summoned Susan and
closely cross-questioned her as to the length and other details of
Lorin's visit. On these points the maid was voluble and precise, having
supplemented her knowledge at first-hand by listening at the library
keyhole.
"It wasn't much that I could catch, miss--I was that afraid of misses
finding me out and setting her spirits after me, or of cook coming up
and down stairs. But something misses is going to do for Mr. Armstrong;
and he's to come round about it at twelve o'clock to-morrow. Most
likely misses is going to try to make friends between them again--don't
you think so, miss?"
"I can't tell, Susan. But it's very interesting, isn't it? Quite like a
novel. And you shall have that green-velvet hat of mine."
Clare was intensely curious to know the rights of this quarrel between
her rival and Lorin Armstrong. "Pumping" Laline was never any use;
but by adroit flattery and artful questions she could sometimes
extract information from her aunt, even though the latter resented her
intrusion in the study during working hours. But, with the secretary in
tears in her room, Clare decided she might risk it, and she accordingly
sped lightly to the study door, and, after an admonitory tap, burst in
with a great appearance of spontaneity.
"Oh, auntie," she exclaimed, "do let me run in for a few minutes' chat!
Why, where is Lina?"
"She is ill--a headache or something. Pray don't flutter, Clare!
Fluttering gets on my nerves."
"I wonder what is the matter with Lina?" Clare remarked, taking a seat
and slowly removing her hat. "Have you noticed how strangely she has
altered since her engagement?"
"All girls alter when they get engaged," said her aunt, maliciously.
"Joy turns their heads, I suppose."
"I don't think it's joy in Lina's case," pursued Clare, shaking her
head doubtfully. "No; it seems to me she has something on her mind."
"What do you mean?"
By her aunt's tone Clare divined she was on the right tack.
"Well, do you know, Aunt Cissy," she said, with confidential mystery,
"I have some reason for supposing that Lina knows of a secret barrier
between her and Mr. Armstrong--that is why she is trying to break with
him--before he finds it out, I mean."
"Where did you get that idea from?" asked Mrs. Vandeleur, sharply.
"Well, I would rather not say who told me in so many words; but I
have suspected the thing before," Clare went on, feeling her way, and
wondering whether she was going to stumble on the truth. "Of course
you know how people will talk, and this is the sort of thing they
say--that it is quite too reckless of Mr. Armstrong, in his position,
to offer marriage to a girl about whose antecedents he knows absolutely
nothing at all. Why, even you know very little more, do you, auntie?
And Lina is twenty, and has had to earn her living somehow since she
was a child. And of course she is perfectly lovely, in that thin
ethereal style that some people rave about. She is so oddly reticent,
too, about her past--haven't you noticed it? But, now that she is going
to make such a splendid and unexpected marriage with such an extremely
charming man as Mr. Armstrong, no doubt it all comes back to her. She
is very religious, you know, and very likely would rather give him up
than be married under false pretences, poor girl!"
To the whole of this elaborate speech, evolved bit by bit from Clare's
inner consciousness, Mrs. Vandeleur listened, with her brilliant hazel
eyes peering intently through her glasses upon her niece's face. But
as the girl finished, the little gray lady rose from her chair in her
wrath, every fold of her soft brocade bristling with indignation.
"Do you venture to insinuate," she inquired in icily deliberate tones,
"that my friend and companion and fellow-worker hesitates to become an
honourable gentleman's wife because her past career has rendered her
unworthy to fill that position?"
Clare was considerably taken aback; but she resolved to stick to her
guns.
"I certainly meant that," she answered, feeling in her own heart that
after all she had probably hit upon something very like the truth.
"Then, if these are your opinions--and they are, after all, only such
as I should expect from you--let me tell you that you are not fit
to take my white-souled Lina by the hand! I know every secret of her
heart, and there is not one thought hidden there which would not shame
you by its purity!"
"I would not disturb your belief in Lina for the world," observed
her niece, a little red spot of anger forming itself in the whiteness
of her cheeks; "but, on a subject like this, we may each keep our own
opinion, may we not? I myself am very fond of Lina."
"That is not true! You hate her, and are bitterly envious of her!"
"I! Envious of her!"
The white eyelids and yellow lashes were scornfully lowered over the
angry eyes.
"I wonder, Aunt Cissy, that with your gifts and your genius you are
so easily deceived! I am not strait-laced, as you know; but, really,
I have never cared to make a companion of Lina Grahame. She has, I
don't doubt, some very good reason of her own for letting Mr. Armstrong
escape from her clutches."
"Would you like me to prove to your face that you are lying?" Mrs.
Vandeleur inquires, in a white heat of anger and excitement.
"Unfortunately that is impossible--isn't it? You could only get
Lina's word, and I don't quite think I should accept that under the
circumstances."
"You shall hear it in a form which you cannot fail to believe!" the
little lady cried in triumph. "I will put Lina into a hypnotic sleep,
and she shall answer me as she would answer her own soul. With her own
lips she shall, in your presence, clear her good name from the foul
slur which you, in your mean jealousy, have cast upon it. And this
shall be done this very evening--here, before your eyes!"
"Dear auntie, pray don't excite yourself!" Clare urged. "Such an
ordeal would be unfair to the girl. I really meant nothing."
"I have made up my mind," said the little sibyl, as she sharply rang
the silver hand-bell on the table before her.
In Lorin's interests she had already decided to submit Lina to hypnotic
influence in order to extract from her the entire truth with regard to
her present plans, and she was genuinely glad of the opportunity of
proving to her niece how undeserved were her reflections on her rival.
For Mrs. Vandeleur had no trace of doubt but that Laline, when put to
the test, would triumphantly prove her spotless innocence in a manner
which must convince even the evil-minded and unbelieving Clare. She was
revelling in her favourite part of Fate's representative. Lorin should
be made happy, Clare confounded, and Laline vindicated by one and the
same process.
"Hide yourself!" she signed to her niece imperatively. "Lina must
believe herself alone with me. Turn out the lamp in the inner room, and
conceal yourself behind that Japanese screen. When she is unconscious,
I will signal you to come near."
"Ask Miss Grahame if she will kindly join me here at once, Susan," was
the mandate given to that young woman on her appearance in answer to
the summons.
"I beg your pardon, ma'am, but I think Miss Grahame's poorly and is
lying down."
"Do as I tell you! Ask her to come to me now!"
A few minutes later, almost as pale as the white dress she had donned
to please her employer, Laline entered the room. Suffering had made
her super-sensitive; she seemed instantly to be aware of an inimical
presence, for she glanced nervously about her before advancing towards
Mrs. Vandeleur.
"I--I thought Clare was with you!" she stammered.
"I have just sent her away. I want to talk to you. My dear child, why
this avoidance of me? I assure you I am beginning to be hurt. To think
that I should have to wait to learn the news of your engagement from
the lips of others----"
"Don't--oh, please don't!"
The girl pressed both hands to her burning forehead. She had wept
herself into a weak hysterical state, but she was anxious not to break
down.
"I meant to write to you to-night," she went on presently, more calmly.
"I didn't feel quite equal to talking to you. During the past few days
I have lived through several lives of pain and thought, and I feel weak
and worn out. Dear Mrs. Vandeleur, you have been so wonderfully kind
to me that I wish I could tell you all the truth! The one thing I must
tell you is that I must leave your house to-morrow."
"Leave me to-morrow! Why, where are you going?"
"I must not tell you--I hardly know myself yet. But it must be
somewhere where no one I have met lately will ever find me. I have to
begin life all over again."
"But, my child, what does all this mean? first, I am astonished by
hearing of your engagement with Mr. Armstrong, knowing, as I did,
that you were not free to marry; next, you refuse to see the poor
young man, and worry him until he is nearly mad by your sudden and
capricious coldness; and, finally, you walk in here, with red eyes and
white cheeks, and tell me you are going to the other end of the world
to-morrow. What can it all mean?"
"I cannot tell you. It has all been a terrible mistake. But, if you
believe in me and care for me at all, dear--dear Mrs. Vandeleur, put no
obstacle in the way of my going, and never let Lorin or any one know
where I have taken refuge. Don't ask me to tell even you, but let me
pass out of all your lives within the next few hours, and try to always
think the best you can of me."
Just for one instant the thought flashed through Mrs. Vandeleur's brain
that perhaps, after all, Clare's suspicions might not be altogether
without foundation. Laline's mental attitude seemed hardly consistent
with perfect innocence. But she loyally hated to entertain the doubt,
and held out her little hands impulsively towards her _protégée_.
"Come here, my poor, dear, pale child!" she cried. "Put your head in my
lap--so--and let me charm away your headache with my fingers. No--don't
cry any more! These love-affairs are infinitely wearing, I know. There;
let me touch your eyelids and charm away your tears! Is that better?"
"Much better!"
Laline spoke drowsily. She had flown to her friend, deeply moved by her
sudden display of tenderness and sympathy, and had unsuspectingly knelt
at her feet, weeping tears of gratitude. Yielding herself thus readily
to the magic of Mrs. Vandeleur's touch, she became, in her unnerved
and broken condition of mind, the most susceptible subject possible to
hypnotic influence.
Even while she still spoke her eyes became fixed and vacant in their
gaze. Still the little lady's fingers swept in slow caressing touches
about her brow and eyelids. A deep sigh quivered through the girl's
parted lips, and her head fell heavily forward on Mrs. Vandeleur's
knees.
"Clare! Quick! Help me to lay her in this chair. Move away and let me
place my hand on her brow--so!"
Pale and inert as a dead thing Laline lay. Clare drew a little on one
side and held her breath with excitement. Then, through the perfect
stillness of the room, Mrs. Vandeleur's sweet voice sounded, speaking
low, in slow distinct tones.
"Lina, can you hear me?"
A faint quiver passed over the still face; then the voice came as from
a long way off--
"Yes."
"Do you love Lorin Armstrong?"
"Yes."
"Shall you marry him?"
"No."
"Why have you broken your engagement?"
"Because I am already married."
"Married!" burst from Clare's lips in amazement.
"Silence!" exclaimed her aunt, imperatively. Then, turning again to
Laline, she asked slowly--
"What is the name of your husband?"
A pause, and then softly, but with perfect distinctness, came the
words--
"Wallace Armstrong."
"Not Wallace Armstrong--Lorin's cousin? Can you mean him?" cried Mrs.
Vandeleur, in horror.
"Yes."
"When did you marry him?"
"More than four years ago."
"Tell me your name before you married."
"Laline Garth."
"Good heavens! But he thinks you dead. Does he or any one know or guess
the truth?"
"No one."
Clare drew a long breath. The discovery meant everything to her, and
the one idea in her mind was to communicate the precious secret in the
right quarter.
A faint sigh and a fluttering of the eyelids from Laline made Mrs.
Vandeleur bend anxiously over her prostrate form; and in the slight
diversion thus afforded Clare slipped noiselessly from the room.