CHAPTER X. THE SEARCH.
THE fire burning in the grate was not a very large one; and the outerair (as I had noticed on my way to the house) had something of a wintrysharpness in it that day.
Still, my first feeling, when Major Fitz-David left me, was a feeling ofheat and oppression, with its natural result, a difficulty in breathingfreely. The nervous agitation of the time was, I suppose, answerable forthese sensations. I took off my bonnet and mantle and gloves, and openedthe window for a little while. Nothing was to be seen outside but apaved courtyard, with a skylight in the middle, closed at the furtherend by the wall of the Major's stables. A few minutes at the windowcooled and refreshed me. I shut it down again, and took my first stepon the way of discovery. In other words, I began my first examination ofthe four walls around me, and of all that they inclosed.
I was amazed at my own calmness. My interview with Major Fitz-David had,perhaps, exhausted my capacity for feeling any strong emotion, for thetime at least. It was a relief to me to be alone; it was a relief to meto begin the search. Those were my only sensations so far.
The shape of the room was oblong. Of the two shorter walls, onecontained the door in grooves which I have already mentioned ascommunicating with the front room; the other was almost entirelyoccupied by the broad window which looked out on the courtyard.
Taking the doorway wall first, what was there, in the shape offurniture, on either side of it? There was a card-table on either side.Above each card-table stood a magnificent china bowl placed on a giltand carved bracket fixed to the wall.
I opened the card-tables. The drawers beneath contained nothing butcards, and the usual counters and markers. With the exception of onepack, the cards in both tables were still wrapped in their paper coversexactly as they had come from the shop. I examined the loose pack, cardby card. No writing, no mark of any kind, was visible on any one ofthem. Assisted by a library ladder which stood against the book-case,I looked next into the two china bowls. Both were perfectly empty. Wasthere anything more to examine on that side of the room? In the twocorners there were two little chairs of inlaid wood, with red silkcushions. I turned them up and looked under the cushions, and still Imade no discoveries. When I had put the chairs back in their places mysearch on one side of the room was complete. So far I had found nothing.
I crossed to the opposite wall, the wall which contained the window.
The window (occupying, as I have said, almost the entire length andheight of the wall) was divided into three compartments, and was adornedat their extremity by handsome curtains of dark red velvet. The ampleheavy folds of the velvet left just room at the two corners of the wallfor two little upright cabinets in buhl, containing rows of drawers, andsupporting two fine bronze productions (reduced in size) of the VenusMilo and the Venus Callipyge. I had Major Fitz-David's permission todo just what I pleased. I opened the si x drawers in each cabinet, andexamined their contents without hesitation.
Beginning with the cabinet in the right-hand corner, my investigationswere soon completed. All the six drawers were alike occupied by acollection of fossils, which (judging by the curious paper inscriptionsfixed on some of them) were associated with a past period of the Major'slife when he had speculated, not very successfully in mines. Aftersatisfying myself that the drawers contained nothing but the fossilsand their inscriptions, I turned to the cabinet in the left-hand cornernext.
Here a variety of objects was revealed to view, and the examinationaccordingly occupied a much longer time.
The top drawer contained a complete collection of carpenter's tools inminiature, relics probably of the far-distant time when the Major was aboy, and when parents or friends had made him a present of a set of toytools. The second drawer was filled with toys of another sort--presentsmade to Major Fitz-David by his fair friends. Embroidered braces, smartsmoking-caps, quaint pincushions, gorgeous slippers, glittering purses,all bore witness to the popularity of the friend of the women. Thecontents of the third drawer were of a less interesting sort: the entirespace was filled with old account-books, ranging over a period ofmany years. After looking into each book, and opening and shaking ituselessly, in search of any loose papers which might be hidden betweenthe leaves, I came to the fourth drawer, and found more relics of pastpecuniary transactions in the shape of receipted bills, neatly tiedtogether, and each inscribed at the back. Among the bills I found nearlya dozen loose papers, all equally unimportant. The fifth drawer was insad confusion. I took out first a loose bundle of ornamental cards, eachcontaining the list of dishes at past banquets given or attended by theMajor in London or Paris; next, a box full of delicately tinted quillpens (evidently a lady's gift); next, a quantity of old invitationcards; next, some dog's-eared French plays and books of the opera; next,a pocket-corkscrew, a bundle of cigarettes, and a bunch of rusty keys;lastly, a passport, a set of luggage labels, a broken silver snuff-box,two cigar-cases, and a torn map of Rome. "Nothing anywhere to interestme," I thought, as I closed the fifth, and opened the sixth and lastdrawer.
The sixth drawer was at once a surprise and a disappointment. Itliterally contained nothing but the fragments of a broken vase.
I was sitting, at the time, opposite to the cabinet, in a low chair. Inthe momentary irritation caused by my discovery of the emptiness of thelast drawer, I had just lifted my foot to push it back into its place,when the door communicating with the hall opened, and Major Fitz-Davidstood before me.
His eyes, after first meeting mine, traveled downward to my foot. Theinstant he noticed the open drawer I saw a change in his face. It wasonly for a moment; but in that moment he looked at me with a suddensuspicion and surprise--looked as if he had caught me with my hand onthe clew.
"Pray don't let me disturb you," said Major Fitz-David. "I have onlycome here to ask you a question."
"What is it, Major?"
"Have you met with any letters of mine in the course of yourinvestigations?"
"I have found none yet," I answered. "If I do discover any letters, Ishall, of course, not take the liberty of examining them."
"I wanted to speak to you about that," he rejoined. "It only struck mea moment since, upstairs, that my letters might embarrass you. In yourplace I should feel some distrust of anything which I was not at libertyto examine. I think I can set this matter right, however, with verylittle trouble to either of us. It is no violation of any promises orpledges on my part if I simply tell you that my letters will not assistthe discovery which you are trying to make. You can safely pass themover as objects that are not worth examining from your point of view.You understand me, I am sure?"
"I am much obliged to you, Major--I quite understand."
"Are you feeling any fatigue?"
"None whatever, thank you."
"And you still hope to succeed? You are not beginning to be discouragedalready?"
"I am not in the least discouraged. With your kind leave, I mean topersevere for some time yet."
I had not closed the drawer of the cabinet while we were talking, andI glanced carelessly, as I answered him, at the fragments of the brokenvase. By this time he had got his feelings under perfect command. He,too, glanced at the fragments of the vase with an appearance of perfectindifference. I remembered the look of suspicion and surprise thathad escaped him on entering the room, and I thought his indifference alittle overacted.
"_That_ doesn't look very encouraging," he said, with a smile, pointingto the shattered pieces of china in the drawer.
"Appearances are not always to be trusted," I replied. "The wisest thingI can do in my present situation is to suspect everything, even down toa broken vase."
I looked hard at him as I spoke. He changed the subject.
"Does the music upstairs annoy you?" he asked.
"Not in the least, Major."
"It will soon be over now. The singing-master is going, and the Italianmaster has just arrived. I am sparing no pains to make my young primadonna a most accomplished person. In learning to sing she must alsole
arn the language which is especially the language of music. I shallperfect her in the accent when I take her to Italy. It is the heightof my ambition to have her mistaken for an Italian when she sings inpublic. Is there anything I can do before I leave you again? May I sendyou some more champagne? Please say yes!"
"A thousand thanks, Major. No more champagne for the present."
He turned at the door to kiss his hand to me at parting. At the samemoment I saw his eyes wander slyly toward the book-case. It was only foran instant. I had barely detected him before he was out of the room.
Left by myself again, I looked at the book-case--looked at itattentively for the first time.
It was a handsome piece of furniture in ancient carved oak, and itstood against the wall which ran parallel with the hall of the house.Excepting the space occupied in the upper corner of the room by thesecond door, which opened into the hall, the book-case filled the wholelength of the wall down to the window. The top was ornamented by vases,candelabra, and statuettes, in pairs, placed in a row. Looking alongthe row, I noticed a vacant space on the top of the bookcase at theextremity of it which was nearest to the window. The opposite extremity,nearest to the door, was occupied by a handsome painted vase of a verypeculiar pattern. Where was the corresponding vase, which ought to havebeen placed at the corresponding extremity of the book-case? I returnedto the open sixth drawer of the cabinet, and looked in again. There wasno mistaking the pattern on the fragments when I examined them now. Thevase which had been broken was the vase which had stood in the place nowvacant on the top of the book-case at the end nearest to the window.
Making this discovery, I took out the fragments, down to the smallestmorsel of the shattered china, and examined them carefully one afteranother.
I was too ignorant of the subject to be able to estimate the value ofthe vase or the antiquity of the vase, or even to know whether it wereof British or of foreign manufacture. The ground was of a delicatecream-color. The ornaments traced on this were wreaths of flowers andCupids surrounding a medallion on either side of the vase. Upon thespace within one of the medallions was painted with exquisite delicacya woman's head, representing a nymph or a goddess, or perhaps a portraitof some celebrated person--I was not learned enough to say which.The other medallion inclosed the head of a man, also treated in theclassical style. Reclining shepherds and shepherdesses in Watteaucostume, with their dogs and their sheep, formed the adornments of thepedestal. Such had the vase been in the days of its prosperity, whenit stood on the top of the book-case. By what accident had it becomebroken? And why had Major Fitz-David's face changed when he found thatI had discovered the remains of his shattered work of art in the cabinetdrawer?
The remains left those serious questions unanswered--the remains told meabsolutely nothing. And yet, if my own observation of the Major were tobe trusted, the way to the clew of which I was in search lay, directlyor indirectly, through the broken vase.
It was useless to pursue the question, knowing no more than I knew now.I returned to the book-case.
Thus far I had assumed (without any sufficient reason) that the clew ofwhich I was in search must necessarily reveal itself through a writtenpaper of some sort. It now occurred to me--after the movement whichI had detected on the part of the Major--that the clew might quite asprobably present itself in the form of a book.
I looked along the lower rows of shelves, standing just near enough tothem to read the titles on the backs of the volumes. I saw Voltaire inred morocco, Shakespeare in blue, Walter Scott in green, the "History ofEngland" in brown, the "Annual Register" in yellow calf. There I paused,wearied and discouraged already by the long rows of volumes. How (Ithought to myself) am I to examine all these books? And what am I tolook for, even if I do examine them all?
Major Fitz-David had spoken of a terrible misfortune which had darkenedmy husband's past life. In what possible way could any trace of thatmisfortune, or any suggestive hint of something resembling it, exist inthe archives of the "Annual Register" or in the pages of Voltaire?The bare idea of such a thing seemed absurd The mere attempt to make aserious examination in this direction was surely a wanton waste of time.
And yet the Major had certainly stolen a look at the book-case. Andagain, the broken vase had once stood on the book-case. Did thesecircumstances justify me in connecting the vase and the book-case astwin landmarks on the way that led to discovery? The question was not aneasy one to decide on the spur of the moment.
I looked up at the higher shelves.
Here the collection of books exhibited a greater variety. The volumeswere smaller, and were not so carefully arranged as on the lowershelves. Some were bound in cloth, some were only protected by papercovers; one or two had fallen, and lay flat on the shelves. Here andthere I saw empty spaces from which books had been removed and notreplaced. In short, there was no discouraging uniformity in these higherregions of the book-case. The untidy top shelves looked suggestive ofsome lucky accident which might unexpectedly lead the way to success. Idecided, if I did examine the book-case at all, to begin at the top.
Where was the library ladder?
I had left it against the partition wall which divided the back roomfrom the room in front. Looking that way, I necessarily looked alsotoward the door that ran in grooves--the imperfectly closed door throughwhich I heard Major Fitz-David question his servant on the subject ofmy personal appearance when I first entered the house. No one had movedthis door during the time of my visit. Everybody entering or leaving theroom had used the other door, which led into the hall.
At the moment when I looked round something stirred in the front room.The movement let the light in suddenly through the small open space leftby the partially closed door. Had somebody been watching me through thechink? I stepped softly to the door, and pushed it back until it waswide open. There was the Major, discovered in the front room! I saw itin his face--he had been watching me at the book-case!
His hat was in his hand. He was evidently going out; and he dexterouslytook advantage of that circumstance to give a plausible reason for beingso near the door.
"I hope I didn't frighten you," he said.
"You startled me a little, Major."
"I am so sorry, and so ashamed! I was just going to open the door, andtell you that I am obliged to go out. I have received a pressing messagefrom a lady. A charming person--I should so like you to know her. Sheis in sad trouble, poor thing. Little bills, you know, and nastytradespeople who want their money, and a husband--oh, dear me, a husbandwho is quite unworthy of her! A most interesting creature. You remindme of her a little; you both have the same carriage of the head. I shallnot be more than half an hour gone. Can I do anything for you? You arelooking fatigued. Pray let me send for some more champagne. No? Promiseto ring when you want it. That's right! _Au revoir_, my charmingfriend--_au revoir!_"
I pulled the door to again the moment his back was turned, and sat downfor a while to compose myself.
He had been watching me at the book-case! The man who was in myhusband's confidence, the man who knew where the clew was to be found,had been watching me at the book-case! There was no doubt of it now.Major Fitz-David had shown me the hiding-place of the secret in spite ofhimself!
I looked with indifference at the other pieces of furniture, rangedagainst the fourth wall, which I had not examined yet. I surveyed,without the slightest feeling of curiosity, all the little eleganttrifles scattered on the tables and on the chimney-piece, each oneof which might have been an object of suspicion to me under othercircumstances. Even the water-color drawings failed to interest me in mypresent frame of mind. I observed languidly that they were most ofthem portraits of ladies--fair idols, no doubt, of the Major's facileadoration--and I cared to notice no more. _My_ business in that room (Iwas certain of it now!) began and ended with the book-case. I leftmy seat to fetch the library ladder, determining to begin the work ofinvestigation on the top shelves.
On my way to the ladder I passed one of the tables, and saw the keys
lying on it which Major Fitz-David had left at my disposal.
The smaller of the two keys instantly reminded me of the cupboards underthe bookcase. I had strangely overlooked these. A vague distrust of thelocked doors a vague doubt of what they might be hiding from me, stoleinto my mind. I left the ladder in its place against the wall, and setmyself to examine the contents of the cupboards first.
The cupboards were three in number. As I opened the first of themthe singing upstairs ceased. For a moment there was something almostoppressive in the sudden change from noise to silence. I suppose mynerves must have been overwrought. The next sound in the house--nothingmore remarkable than the creaking of a man's boots descendingthe stairs--made me shudder all over. The man was no doubt thesinging-master, going away after giving his lesson. I heard the housedoor close on him, and started at the familiar sound as if it weresomething terrible which I had never heard before. Then there wassilence again. I roused myself as well as I could, and began myexamination of the first cupboard.
It was divided into two compartments.
The top compartment contained nothing but boxes of cigars, ranged inrows, one on another. The under compartment was devoted to a collectionof shells. They were all huddled together anyhow, the Major evidentlysetting a far higher value on his cigars than on his shells. I searchedthis lower compartment carefully for any object interesting to me whichmight be hidden in it. Nothing was to be found in any part of it besidesthe shells.
As I opened the second cupboard it struck me that the light wasbeginning to fail.
I looked at the window: it was hardly evening yet. The darkening of thelight was produced by gathering clouds. Rain-drops pattered againstthe glass; the autumn wind whistled mournfully in the corners of thecourtyard. I mended the fire before I renewed my search. My nerves werein fault again, I suppose. I shivered when I went back to the book-case.My hands trembled: I wondered what was the matter with me.
The second cupboard revealed (in the upper division of it) some reallybeautiful cameos--not mounted, but laid on cotton-wool in neat cardboardtrays. In one corner, half hidden under one of the trays, there peepedout the whit e leaves of a little manuscript. I pounced on it eagerly,only to meet with a new disappointment: the manuscript proved to be adescriptive catalogue of the cameos--nothing more!
Turning to the lower division of the cupboard, I found more costlycuriosities in the shape of ivory carvings from Japan and specimens ofrare silk from China. I began to feel weary of disinterring the Major'streasures. The longer I searched, the farther I seemed to remove myselffrom the one object that I had it at heart to attain. After closing thedoor of the second cupboard, I almost doubted whether it would be worthmy while to proceed farther and open the third and last door.
A little reflection convinced me that it would be as well, now that Ihad begun my examination of the lower regions of the book-case, to go onwith it to the end. I opened the last cupboard.
On the upper shelf there appeared, in solitary grandeur, one objectonly--a gorgeously bound book.
It was of a larger size than usual, judging of it by comparison withthe dimensions of modern volumes. The binding was of blue velvet, withclasps of silver worked in beautiful arabesque patterns, and with a lockof the same precious metal to protect the book from prying eyes. When Itook it up, I found that the lock was not closed.
Had I any right to take advantage of this accident, and open the book?I have put the question since to some of my friends of both sexes. Thewomen all agree that I was perfectly justified, considering the seriousinterests that I had at stake, in taking any advantage of any book inthe Major's house. The men differ from this view, and declare that Iought to have put back the volume in blue velvet unopened, carefullyguarding myself from any after-temptation to look at it again by lockingthe cupboard door. I dare say the men are right.
Being a woman, however, I opened the book without a moment's hesitation.
The leaves were of the finest vellum, with tastefully designedilluminations all round them. And what did these highly ornamental pagescontain? To my unutterable amazement and disgust, they contained locksof hair, let neatly into the center of each page, with inscriptionsbeneath, which proved them to be love-tokens from various ladies who hadtouched the Major's susceptible heart at different periods of his life.The inscriptions were written in other languages besides English, butthey appeared to be all equally devoted to the same curious purpose,namely, to reminding the Major of the dates at which his variousattachments had come to an untimely end. Thus the first page exhibiteda lock of the lightest flaxen hair, with these lines beneath: "My adoredMadeline. Eternal constancy. Alas, July 22, 1839!" The next page wasadorned by a darker shade of hair, with a French inscription under it:"Clemence. Idole de mon ame. Toujours fidele. Helas, 2me Avril, 1840." Alock of red hair followed, with a lamentation in Latin under it, a notebeing attached to the date of dissolution of partnership in this case,stating that the lady was descended from the ancient Romans, and wastherefore mourned appropriately in Latin by her devoted Fitz-David.More shades of hair and more inscriptions followed, until I was weary oflooking at them. I put down the book, disgusted with the creatureswho had assisted in filling it, and then took it up again, by anafterthought. Thus far I had thoroughly searched everything that hadpresented itself to my notice. Agreeable or not agreeable, it wasplainly of serious importance to my own interests to go on as I hadbegun, and thoroughly to search the book.
I turned over the pages until I came to the first blank leaf. Seeingthat they were all blank leaves from this place to the end, I lifted thevolume by the back, and, as a last measure of precaution, shook it so asto dislodge any loose papers or cards which might have escaped my noticebetween the leaves.
This time my patience was rewarded by a discovery which indescribablyirritated and distressed me.
A small photograph, mounted on a card, fell out of the book. A firstglance showed me that it represented the portraits of two persons.
One of the persons I recognized as my husband.
The other person was a woman.
Her face was entirely unknown to me. She was not young. The picturerepresented her seated on a chair, with my husband standing behind, andbending over her, holding one of her hands in his. The woman's face washard-featured and ugly, with the marking lines of strong passions andresolute self-will plainly written on it. Still, ugly as she was, I felta pang of jealousy as I noticed the familiarly affectionate action bywhich the artist (with the permission of his sitters, of course) hadconnected the two figures in a group. Eustace had briefly told me, inthe days of our courtship, that he had more than once fancied himselfto be in love before he met with me. Could this very unattractive womanhave been one of the early objects of his admiration? Had she been nearenough and dear enough to him to be photographed with her hand in his? Ilooked and looked at the portraits until I could endure them no longer.Women are strange creatures--mysteries even to themselves. I threw thephotograph from me into a corner of the cupboard. I was savagely angrywith my husband; I hated--yes, hated with all my heart and soul!--thewoman who had got his hand in hers--the unknown woman with theself-willed, hard-featured face.
All this time the lower shelf of the cupboard was still waiting to belooked over.
I knelt down to examine it, eager to clear my mind, if I could, of thedegrading jealousy that had got possession of me.
Unfortunately, the lower shelf contained nothing but relics of theMajor's military life, comprising his sword and pistols, his epaulets,his sash, and other minor accouterments. None of these objects excitedthe slightest interest in me. My eyes wandered back to the uppershelf; and, like the fool I was (there is no milder word that canfitly describe me at that moment), I took the photograph out again, andenraged myself uselessly by another look at it. This time I observed,what I had not noticed before, that there were some lines of writing (ina woman's hand) at the back of the portraits. The lines ran thus:
"To Major Fitz-David, with two vases. From his fri
ends, S. and E. M."
Was one of those two vases the vase that had been broken? And was thechange that I had noticed in Major Fitz-David's face produced by somepast association in connection with it, which in some way affectedme? It might or might not be so. I was little disposed to indulge inspeculation on this topic while the far more serious question of theinitials confronted me on the back of the photograph.
"S. and E. M.?" Those last two letters might stand for the initials ofmy husband's name--his true name--Eustace Macallan. In this case thefirst letter ("S.") in all probability indicated _her_ name. What righthad she to associate herself with him in that manner? I considered alittle--my memory exerted itself--I suddenly called to mind that Eustacehad sisters. He had spoken of them more than once in the time before ourmarriage. Had I been mad enough to torture myself with jealousy of myhusband's sister? It might well be so; "S." might stand for his sister'sChristian name. I felt heartily ashamed of myself as this new view ofthe matter dawned on me. What a wrong I had done to them both in mythoughts! I turned the photograph, sadly and penitently, to examine theportraits again with a kinder and truer appreciation of them.
I naturally looked now for a family likeness between the two faces.There was no family likeness; on the contrary, they were as unlike eachother in form and expression as faces could be. _Was_ she his sister,after all? I looked at her hands, as represented in the portrait. Herright hand was clasped by Eustace; her left hand lay on her lap. On thethird finger, distinctly visible, there was a wedding-ring. Were any ofmy husband's sisters married? I had myself asked him the question whenhe mentioned them to me, and I perfectly remembered that he had repliedin the negative.
Was it possible that my first jealous instinct had led me to the rightconclusion after all? If it had, what did the association of the threeinitial letters mean? What did the wedding-ring mean? Good Heavens! wasI looking at the portrait of a rival in my husband's affections--and wasthat rival his Wife?
I threw the photograph from me with a cry of horror. For one terriblemoment I felt as if my reason was giving way. I don't know what wouldhave happened, or what I should have done next, if my love for Eustacehad not taken the uppermost place among the contending emotions thattortured me. That faithful love steadied my brain. That faithful loveroused the reviving influences of my better and nobler sense. Was theman whom I had enshrined in my heart of hearts capable of such basewickedness as the bare idea of his marriage to another woman implied?No! Mine was the baseness, mine the wickedness, in having even for amoment thought it of him!
I picked up the detestable photograph from the floor, and put it backin the book. I hastily closed the cupboard door, fetched the libraryladder, and set it against the book-case. My one idea now was the ideaof taking refuge in employment of any sort from my own thoughts. I feltthe hateful suspicion that had degraded me coming back again in spite ofmy efforts to repel it. The books! the books! my only hope was to absorbmyself, body and soul, in the books.
I had one foot on the ladder, when I heard the door of the roomopen--the door which communicated with the hall.
I looked around, expecting to see the Major. I saw instead the Major'sfuture prima donna standing just inside the door, with her round eyessteadily fixed on me.
"I can stand a good deal," the girl began, coolly, "but I can't stand_this_ any longer?"
"What is it that you can't stand any longer?" I asked.
"If you have been here a minute, you have been here two good hours,"she went on. "All by yourself in the Major's study. I am of a jealousdisposition--I am. And I want to know what it means." She advanced a fewsteps nearer to me, with a heightening color and a threatening look. "Ishe going to bring _you_ out on the stage?" she asked, sharply.
"Certainly not."
"He ain't in love with you, is he?"
Under other circumstances I might have told her to leave the room. In myposition at that critical moment the mere presence of a human creaturewas a positive relief to me. Even this girl, with her coarse questionsand her uncultivated manners, was a welcome intruder on my solitude: sheoffered me a refuge from myself.
"Your question is not very civilly put," I said. "However, I excuse you.You are probably not aware that I am a married woman."
"What has that got to do with it?" she retorted. "Married or single,it's all one to the Major. That brazen-faced hussy who calls herselfLady Clarinda is married, and she sends him nosegays three times aweek! Not that I care, mind you, about the old fool. But I've lost mysituation at the railway, and I've got my own interests to look after,and I don't know what may happen if I let other women come between himand me. That's where the shoe pinches, don't you see? I'm not easy in mymind when I see him leaving you mistress here to do just what you like.No offense! I speak out--I do. I want to know what you are about all byyourself in this room? How did you pick up with the Major? I never heardhim speak of you before to-day."
Under all the surface selfishness and coarseness of this strange girlthere was a certain frankness and freedom which pleaded in her favor--tomy mind, at any rate. I answered frankly and freely on my side.
"Major Fitz-David is an old friend of my husband's," I said, "and he iskind to me for my husband's sake. He has given me permission to look inthis room--"
I stopped, at a loss how to describe my employment in terms which shouldtell her nothing, and which should at the same time successfully set herdistrust of me at rest.
"To look about in this room--for what?" she asked. Her eye fell on thelibrary ladder, beside which I was still standing. "For a book?" sheresumed.
"Yes," I said, taking the hint. "For a book."
"Haven't you found it yet?"
"No."
She looked hard at me, undisguisedly considering with herself whether Iwere or were not speaking the truth.
"You seem to be a good sort," she said, making up her mind at last."There's nothing stuck-up about you. I'll help you if I can. I haverummaged among the books here over and over again, and I know more aboutthem than you do. What book do you want?"
As she put that awkward question she noticed for the first time LadyClarinda's nosegay lying on the side-table where the Major had left it.Instantly forgetting me and my book, this curious girl pounced like afury on the flowers, and actually trampled them under her feet!
"There!" she cried. "If I had Lady Clarinda here I'd serve her in thesame way."
"What will the Major say?" I asked.
"What do I care? Do you suppose I'm afraid of _him?_ Only last week Ibroke one of his fine gimcracks up there, and all through Lady Clarindaand her flowers!"
She pointed to the top of the book-case--to the empty space on itclose by the window. My heart gave a sudden bound as my eyes took thedirection indicated by her finger. _She_ had broken the vase! Was theway to discovery about to reveal itself to me through this girl? Not aword would pass my lips; I could only look at her.
"Yes!" she said. "The thing stood there. He knows how I hate herflowers, and he put her nosegay in the vase out of my way. There wasa woman's face painted on the china, and he told me it was the livingimage of _her_ face. It was no more like her than I am. I was in such arage that I up with the book I was reading at the time and shied it atthe painted face. Over the vase went, bless your heart, crash to thefloor. Stop a bit! I wonder whether _that's_ the book you have beenlooking after? Are you like me? Do you like reading Trials?"
Trials? Had I heard her aright? Yes: she had said Trials.
I answered by an affirmative motion of my head. I was still speechless.The girl sauntered in her cool way to the fire-place, and, taking up thetongs, returned with them to the book-case.
"Here's where the book fell," she said--"in the space between thebook-case and the wall. I'll have it out in no time."
I waited without moving a muscle, without uttering a word.
She approached me with the tongs in one hand and with a plainly boundvolume in the other.
"Is that the book?" she said. "Open it, and see."
I took the book from her.
"It is tremendously interesting," she went on. "I've read it twiceover--I have. Mind you, _I_ believe he did it, after all."
Did it? Did what? What was she talking about? I tried to put thequestion to her. I struggled--quite vainly--to say only these words:"What are you talking about?"
She seemed to lose all patience with me. She snatched the book out ofmy hand, and opened it before me on the table by which we were standingside by side.
"I declare, you're as helpless as a baby!" she said, contemptuously."There! _Is_ that the book?"
I read the first lines on the title-page--
A COMPLETE REPORT OF THE TRIAL OF EUSTACE MACALLAN.
I stopped and looked up at her. She started back from me with a screamof terror. I looked down again at the title-page, and read the nextlines--
FOR THE ALLEGED POISONING OF HIS WIFE.
There, God's mercy remembered me. There the black blank of a swoonswallowed me up.
The Law and the Lady Page 10
