CHAPTER VII.
A STRUGGLE FOR MORE THAN LIFE.
It is a fortunate provision of Providence that calamity comes upon us,in most cases, with a force so sudden and overwhelming that it israther seen than felt. As we realize the full torture of an uglywound, not when the blow is struck, but after the whole system hasbeen made to languish under its effects, so a blow struck at the heartcan not make itself fully felt while the mind is still unable topicture what the future will be like now that the grief has come. Weonly taste our bitterest grief when the mind has shaken itself alooffrom the present woe, to travel forward and question what the futurecan hold for us, now that our life is bereft of this treasure.
Madeline's condition, after the departure of Olive Girard, was anexponent of this truth. Fast and hard worked her thoughts, but theyonly encountered the ills of the present, and never glanced beyond.
She had set her lover aloft as her ideal, the embodiment of truth,honor, and manhood. He had fallen. Truth, honor, manhood, had passedout of existence for her. And she had loved him so well! She loved himeven yet.
The thought brought with it a pang of terror, and as if conjured up byit, the scenes of the day previous marshalled themselves again forreview. Could it be possible? Was it only yesterday that she listenedto his tender love words, beneath the old tree in Oakley woods? Onlyyesterday that her step-father was revealed in all his vileness,--hisplots, his hopes, his fears. Her mother's sad life laid bare beforeher; Aunt Hagar's story; her defiance of the two men at Oakley; herflight; Clarence Vaughan; the strange, great city; Olive Girard; andnow--now, just a dead blank, with no outlook, no hope.
And was this all since yesterday?
What was it, she wondered, that made people mad? Not things likethese; she was calm, very calm. She _was_ calm; too calm. If somethingwould occur to break up this icy stillness of heart, to convulse thenumbed powers of feeling, and shock them back into life before it wastoo late.
She waited patiently for the coming of her base lover, lying upon thesoft divan, with her hands folded, and wondering if she would feel_much_ different if she were dead.
When the summons came, at last, she went quietly down to greet the manwho little dreamed that his reign in her heart was at an end, and thathis hold upon her life was loosening fast.
When Madeline entered the presence of Lucian Davlin, she took theinitiatory step in the part she was henceforth to play. And she tookit unhesitatingly, as if dissimulation was to her no new thing. Truly,necessity, emergency, is the mother of much besides "invention."Entering, she gave him her hand with free grace, and smiled up at himas he bade her good-morning.
He remarked on her pale cheeks, but praised the brightness of hereyes, and accepted her explanation that the bustle and the strangenesswas unusual to her, as a natural and sufficient reason for the pallor.
"You will soon grow accustomed to that," he said, as they descended tothe carriage, "and be the rosiest, fairest little woman on theboulevard, for I mean to drive half the men jealous by taking youthere often."
"She wondered if she would feel _much_ different if shewere dead."--page 76.]
Madeline made no reply, and they entered the carriage.
Davlin was not surprised at her silence; he was prepared for a littlecoyness; in fact, for some resistance, and expected to have occasionfor the specious eloquence always at his command. Of course, theresult would be the same,--he had no doubt of that, and so in silencethey reached their destination.
Up a broad flight of stairs, and then a door. Lucian rings, and animmaculate colored servant appears, who seems as well bred as anEnglish baronet, and who expresses no surprise at the presence of alady there.
Up another flight of softly carpeted stairs, across a wide hall, andlo! the abode of the sybarite, the apartments of the disciple ofChance.
"Welcome to your kingdom, fair queen," says Lucian, as they enter."This is your abiding place, for a time, at least, and I am your slavefor always," and he kneels playfully before her.
Madeline turns away, and, finding it easiest to do, in her then stateof mind, begins a careless tour of the rooms, making a pretense ofcriticism, and finding in even this slow promenade some relief fromabsolute quiet and silence.
She guarded her face lest it should display too much of that locked,sullen calm underneath, and replied by an occasional word and nod tohis running comments upon the different articles undergoingexamination. Fingering carelessly the rare ornaments upon a fine setof brackets, her eye rested upon an elegant little gold mountedpistol. She turned away quickly, and they passed to other things.
Her replies became more ready, and she began questioning gravely aboutthis or that, listening with childlike wonder to his answers, andwinning him into a pleasant bantering humor.
Finally he threw himself upon a chair, and selecting a cigar proceededto light it.
Madeline continued to flit from picture to statuette, questioning withmuch apparent interest. At last, she paused again before the bracketwhich held the tiny toy that had for her a fascination.
"What a pretty little pistol," she said. "Is it loaded?"
"I don't know," replied he, lazily. "Bring it to me; I will see."
He was inwardly wondering at her cool acceptance of the situation; andfelt inclined to congratulate himself. Seeing her look at the littleweapon doubtfully, he laughed and strode to her side, taking it in hishand.
"It is not loaded," he said. "Did you ever fire a pistol?"
"No; show me how to hold it."
He placed it in her hand, and showed her how to manipulate thetrigger, and to take aim.
"I should like to see it loaded," she said, at last.
"And so you shall."
He smiled, and crossing the room took from a little inlaid box ahandful of cartridges. Madeline watched him attentively, as heexplained to her the operation of loading. At length expressingherself satisfied, and declining his invitation to try and load itherself, she turned away.
Davlin extracted the cartridge from the pistol, and returned it to itsplace, saying: "You might wish to practice at aiming, and won't wantit loaded."
"I shall not want such practice," she replied.
A rap at the door, and the servant announced that dinner was come.
"I ordered our dinner here, to-day," explained Lucian, "thinking itwould be more cosy. You may serve it, Henry," to the servant.
Dinner was accordingly served, and Lucian found occasion to criticise,very severely, the manner of his serving man. More than once, hisvoice took on an intolerant tone.
Sitting opposite, Madeline saw the man, as he stood behind hismaster's chair, dart upon him a look of hatred. Her lips framed asmile quite new to them; and, after dessert was placed upon the tableand the man dismissed, she said:
"You don't like your servant, I judge?"
"Oh, he's as good as any," replied Lucian, carelessly. "They arepretty much alike, and all need a setting back occasionally;--ongeneral principles, you know."
"I suppose so," assented Madeline, indifferently, as if the subjecthad lost all interest for her.
Slowly the afternoon wore on, moments seeming hours to the despairinggirl. At length Lucian, finding her little inclined to assist him inkeeping up a conversation, said:
"I am selfish not to remember that you are very tired. I will leaveyou to solitude and repose for a little time, shall I?"
"If you wish," she replied, wearily. "I suppose I need the rest."
"Then I will look in upon some of my friends. I have almost lost therun of city doings during my absence. Meantime, ring for anything youmay need, won't you?"
"I will ring;" and she looked, not at him, but at the bracket beyond.
"Then good-by, little sweetheart. It is now four; I will be with youat six."
He embraced her tenderly, and went out with that _debonnair_ gracewhich she had so loved. She looked after him with a hungry, hopelesslonging in her eyes.
"Oh, why does God make His foulest things the faire
st?" she moaned."Why did He put love in our hearts if it must turn our lives to ashes?Why must one be so young and yet so miserable? Oh, mother, mother, areall women wronged like us?"
Madeline arose and commenced pacing the floor restlessly, nervously.She had come here with no fixed purpose, nothing beyond the indefinitedetermination to defy and thwart the man who had entrapped her. Shehad never for a moment feared for her safety, or doubted her abilityto accomplish her object.
A plan was now taking shape in her mind, and as she pondered, sheextended her march, quite unthinkingly, on into the adjoining room,the door of which stood invitingly open. The first object to attracther attention was the light traveling coat which Lucian had worn onthe previous day; worn when he was pleading his suit under the treesof Oakley; and in a burst of anger, as if it were a part of him shewas thinking of so bitterly, she seized and hurled it from her. As itflew across the room, something fell from a pocket, almost at herfeet.
She looked down at it; it was a telegram, the one, doubtless, that hadcalled him back to the city the day before. A business matter, he hadsaid. Into her mind flashed the words of Olive Girard, "a professionalgambler." She would see what this "business" was. Stooping, she pickedup the crumpled envelope, and quickly devoured its contents.
Must see you immediately. Come by first train; am waiting at your quarters.
CORA.
Madeline went back to the lighter, larger room, and seating herself,looked about her. Again the words of Olive rung in her ears.
"Cora!" she ejaculated. "He obeyed her summons, and brought _me_ withhim. And she was here only last night--and where has she gone? Thismust be the 'notorious,' the 'handsome.' Ah, Lucian Davlin, this iswell; this nerves me for the worst! I shall not falter now. This isthe first link in the chain that shall yet make your life a burden."
She crossed the room and touched the bell.
"Now for the first real step," said Madeline, grimly.
The door opened and the dark face of Henry appeared, bowing on thethreshold.
"Come in, Henry, and close the door," said Madeline, pleasantly. "Iwant you to do me a favor, if you will."
Henry came in, and stood waiting her order.
"Will you carry a note for me, Henry, and bring me back an answer? Iwant _you_ to take it, because I feel as if I could trust you. Youlook like one who would be faithful to those who were kind to you."
"Thank you, lady; indeed I would," said the man, in grateful tones.
Madeline was quick to see the advantage to be gained by possessing theregard and confidence of this man, who must, necessarily, know so muchthat it was desirable to learn of the life and habits of him, betweenwhom and herself must be waged a war to the very death.
She reasoned rapidly, and as rapidly arrived at her conclusions. Thefirst of those was, that Lucian Davlin, by his intolerance andunkindness, had fitted a tool to her hand, and she, therefore, as apreliminary step, must propitiate and win the confidence of this sametool left by his master within her reach.
"And will you carry my letter, Henry, and return with an answer assoon as you can? You will find the person at this hour without anytrouble."
"Master ordered me to attend to your wants," replied the man, in asomewhat surly tone.
She understood this somber inflection, and said: "He 'ordered' you?Yes, I see; is your master always as hard to please as to-day, Henry?He certainly was a little unkind."
"He's always the same, madame," said the man, gloomily. Her wordsbrought vividly before his mind's eye the many instances of hismaster's unkindness.
"I'm sorry he is not kind to you," said the girl, hypocritically. "AndI don't want you to carry this letter because _he_ ordered you. I wantyou to do it to oblige _me_, Henry, and it will make me always yourfriend."
Ah, Henry, one resentful gleam from your eyes, as you stood behind thechair of your tyrant, has given to this slight girl the clue by whichto sway you to her will. She was smiling upon him, and the manreplied, in gratitude:
"I'll do anything for you, madame."
"Thank you, Henry. I was sure I could trust you. Will you get me somewriting material, please?"
Henry crossed to the handsome davenport, and found it locked. But whentaking this precaution, Davlin overlooked the fact that Cora's lastgift--a little affair intended for the convenience of travelers, beinga combined dressing case and writing desk, the dividing compartment ofwhich contained an excellent cabinet photograph of the lady herself,so enshrined as to be the first thing to greet the eyes of whosoevershould open the little receptacle--was still accessible.
Failing to open the davenport, Henry turned to this; and pressing uponthe spring lock, exposed to the view of Madeline, standing near, thepictured face of Cora. Spite of his grievances, the sense of his dutywas strong upon him, and he put himself between the girl and theobject of her interest. Not so quickly but that she saw, andunderstood the movement. Stepping to his side, she put out her hand,saying:
"What an exquisite picture--Madame Cora, is it not, Henry?"
She was looking him full in the eyes, and he answered, staring inastonishment the while: "Yes, miss."
"She is very handsome," mused the girl, as if to herself: "left justbefore my arrival, I think?" she added, at a venture.
Again her eyes searched his face, and again he gave a surprisedassent.
"Do you like her, Henry?" questioned she, intent on her purpose.
"She is just like _him_," he said, jerking his head grimly, while hisvoice took again a resentful tone. "She thinks a man who is _black_has no feelings."
He placed pen, ink and paper on the table as he answered, and thenlooked to her inquiringly.
"You may wait here while I write, if you will," she said, and took upthe pen.
She had brought away from the G---- House, the two cards of herwould-be friends, and she now consulted them before she asked.
"No. 52 ---- street; is that far, Henry?"
"It's a five minutes' walk," he answered. "I can go and come in twentyminutes, allowing time for an answer."
"Very good," she said, abruptly, and wrote rapidly:
_Clarence Vaughan._
No. 52 ---- street.
SIR--Having no other friend at hand, I take you at your word. I need your aid, to rescue me from the power of a bad man. Will you meet me, with a carriage, at the south corner of this block, in one hour, and take me to Mrs. Girard, who has offered me a shelter? You _know_ the danger I wish to escape. Aid me "_in the name of your mother_."
MADELINE "WEIR."
This is what she penned, and looking up she asked: "What is the numberof this place, Henry?"
"91 Empire block," he replied; "C---- street."
She added this, and then folding and enclosing, addressed it toClarence Vaughan, M. D., etc.
"There, Henry, take it as quickly as you can; and some day I will tryand reward you."
She smiled upon him as she gave him the letter. He took it, bowed low,and hurried away.
She listened until the sound of his footstep could be heard no longer.Then rising quickly, she opened the receptacle that held the portraitof the woman who, though unseen, was still an enemy. Long she gazedupon the pictured face, and when at last she closed the case,springing the lock with a sharp click, she muttered between set teeth:
"I shall _know_ you when I see you, madame."
Crossing to the pistol bracket, she took the little weapon in herhand, and picking up one of the cartridges left by its careless owner,loaded it carefully. Having done this she placed the weapon in herpocket.
She paced to and fro, to and fro; nothing would have been harder forher than to remain quiet then. Her eyes wandered often to the tinybronze clock on the marble above the grate.
Ten minutes; her letter was delivered, was being answeredperhaps;--fifteen; how slowly the moments were going!--twenty; what if _he_should
return, too soon? Instinctively she placed her hand upon the pocketholding the little pistol. Twenty-five minutes; what if her messengershould fail her? And that card had clearly stated "office hours three tofive." Twenty-six; oh, how slow, how slow!--twenty-seven; had the clockstopped? no;--twenty-eight--nine--half an hour.
Where was Henry?
She felt a giddiness creeping over her; how close the air was. Hernerves were at their utmost tension; another strain upon the sharplystrung chords would overcome her. She felt this vaguely. If she shouldbe baffled now! She could take fresh heart, could nerve herself anew,if aid came to her, but if _he_ should come she feared, in her nowhalf frenzied condition, to be alone, she was so strangely nervous, soweak!
How plainly she saw it, the face of Clarence Vaughan. Oh, it was agood face! When she saw it again she could rest. She had not felt itbefore, but she did need rest sorely.
Thirty-five minutes,--oh, they had been hours to her; weary, wearytime!
How many a sad watcher has reckoned the flying moments as creepinghours, while sitting lonely, with heavy eyes, trembling frame, andheart almost bursting with its weight of suspense--waiting.
Forty minutes--and a footstep in the passage! Her heart almost stoppedbeating. It was Henry.
"I had to wait, as he was busy with a patient," said he,apologetically, handing her the letter she desired.
Madeline tore open the missive with eager fingers, and read:
_Miss Madeline W._:
Thank you for your faith in me. I will meet you at the place and time appointed. Do not fail me. Respectfully,
C. VAUGHAN.
She drew a long breath of relief.
"Thank you, Henry. Now I shall leave this place; promise me that youwill not tell your master where I went or how. Will you promise?"
"I will, miss," said the man, earnestly. "Is this all I can do?"
"If you would be my true friend--if I might trust you, Henry--I wouldask more of you. But I should ask you to work against your master. Hehas wronged me cruelly, and I need a friend who can serve me as youcan quite easily. I should not command you as a servant, but ask youto aid me as a true friend, for I think your heart is whiter thanhis."
And Henry was won. Starting forward, he exclaimed:
"He treats me as if I were a dog; and you, as if I were white and agentleman! Let me be your servant, and I will be very faithful; tellme what I can do."
"Thank you, Henry; I will trust you. To-morrow, at noon, call at Dr.Vaughan's office and he will tell you where you can find me. Then cometo me. You can serve me best by remaining with your master, atpresent; and I will try, after I have left this place, to reward youas you deserve."
"I will obey you, mistress," said the delighted servant. "I shall beglad to serve where I can hear a kind word. And I shall be glad tohelp you settle accounts with _him_. I will be there to-morrow, nofear for me."
She turned, and put on her wrappings with a feeling of exultation. Hewould come soon, smiling and triumphant, and she would not be there!He should fret and wonder, question and search, but when they metagain the power should be on her side.
She turned to the waiting servant, saying: "I am ready, Henry."
He opened the door as if for a princess. Before Madeline had liftedher foot from the carpet, her eyes became riveted upon the opendoorway.
There, smiling and _insouciant_, stood _Lucian Davlin_!
Madeline stood like one in a nightmare, motionless and speechless.Again, and more powerfully, came over her senses that insidious,creeping faintness; that sickening of body and soul together.
It was not the situation alone, hazardous as it certainly was, whichfilled her with this shuddering terror; it was the feeling thatvitality had almost exhausted itself. She suddenly realized themeaning of the awful lethargy that seemed benumbing her faculties. The"last straw" was now weighing her down, and, standing mute andmotionless she was putting forth all her will power to comprehend thesituation, grasp and master it.
Like a dark stone image Henry stood, his hand upon the open door, hiseyes fastened upon the man blocking the way.
Davlin, whose first thought had been that the open door was to welcomehis approach, realized in an instant as he gazed upon Madeline, thathe was about to be defied. There was no mistaking the expression ofthe face, so white and set. He elevated his eyebrows in an elaboratedisplay of astonishment.
"Just in time, I should say," removing his hat with mock courtesy, andstepping across the threshold. "Not going out without an escort, mydear? Surely not. Really, I owe a debt of gratitude to my friends downtown, for boring me so insufferably, else I should have missed you, Ifear."
No answer; no change in the face or attitude of the girl before him.
"Close that door, sir, and take yourself off," he said, turning toHenry.
Remembering her words, "You can serve me best here," Henry bowed withunusual humility, and went out.
"There, smiling and _insouciant_, stood _LucianDavlin_!"--page 88.]
"I don't think she is afraid of him," he muttered, as he went down thehall; "anyhow, I won't be far away, in case she needs me."
Lucian Davlin folded his arms with insolent grace, and leaning lazilyagainst the closed door, gazed, with his wicked half smile, upon thepale girl before him.
Thus for a few moments they faced each other, without a word. Atlength, she broke the silence. Advancing a step, she looked him fullin the face and said, in a calm, even tone:
"Open that door, sir, and let me pass."
"Phew--w--w!" he half whistled, half ejaculated, opening wide hisinsolent eyes. "How she commands us; like a little empress, by Jove!Might the humblest of your adorers be permitted to ask where you weregoing, most regal lady?"
"Not back to the home I left for the sake of a gambler and _roue_,"she said, bitterly.
"Oh," thought he, "she has just got her ideas awakened on thissubject: believed me the soul of honor, and all that. Only a smallmatter this, after all."
"Don't call hard names, little woman," he said aloud. "I'm not such avery bad man, after all. By the way, I shouldn't have thought itexactly in your line, to order up my servant for examination in myabsence."
"I am not indebted to your servant for my knowledge concerning you,sir. I wish to leave this place; stand aside and let me pass."
The red flush had returned to her cheeks, the dangerous sparkle to hereyes; her courage and spirits rose in response to his sneeringpleasantries. Her nerves were tempered like steel. He little dreamedof the courage, strength and power she could pit against him.
He dropped one hand carelessly, and inserted it jauntily in hispocket.
"Zounds; but you look like a little tigress," he exclaimed,admiringly. "Really, rage becomes you vastly, but it's wearisome,after all, my dear. So drop high tragedy, like a sensible girl, andtell me what is the meaning of this new freak."
"I will tell you this, sir: I shall leave this place now, and I wishnever to see your face again. Where I go is no concern of yours. Why Igo, I leave to your own imagination."
"Bravo; what a little actress you would make! But now for a display ofmy histrionic talents. Leave this place, against my will, you can not;and I wish to see your face often, for many days to come. Where you goI must go, too; and why you go, is because of a prudish scruple thathas no place in the world you and I will live in."
"The world _you_ live in is not large enough for me too, LucianDavlin. And you and I part, now and forever."
"Not so fast, little one," he answered, in his softest, mostpersuasive tone. "See, I am the same lover you pledged yourself toonly yesterday. I adore you the same as then; I desire to make youhappy just the same. You have put a deep gulf between yourself andyour home; you can not go back; you would go out from here to meet aworse fate, to fall into worse hands. Come, dear, put off that frown."
He made a gesture as if to draw her to him. She sprang away, andplacing herself at a distance, looked at him ove
r a broad, low-backedchair, saying:
"Not a step nearer me, sir, and not another word of your sophistry. Iwill not remain here. Do you understand me? _I will not!_"
Lucian dragged a chair near the door, and throwing himself lazilyinto it, surveyed the enraged girl with a look of mingledastonishment, amusement, and annoyance.
"Really, this is rather hard on a fellow's patience, my lady. Not astep nearer the door, my dear; and no more defiance, if you please.You perceive I temper my tragedy with a little politeness," he added,parenthetically. "I will not permit you to leave me; do you hear me?_I will not!_"
His tone of aggressive mockery was maddening to the desperate girl. Itlent her a fresh, last impulse of wild, defiant energy. There was notthe shadow of a fear in her mind or heart now. The rush of outragedfeeling took full possession of her, and, for a second, deprived herof all power of speech or action. In another instant she stood beforehim, her eyes blazing with wrath, and in her hand, steadfast andsurely aimed, a tiny pistol--his pistol, that he had taught her toload and aim not two short hours before!
He was not a coward, this man; and rage at being thus baffled andplaced at a disadvantage by his own weapon, drove all the mockery fromhis face.
He gave a sudden bound.
There was a flash, a sharp report, and Lucian Davlin reeled for amoment, his right arm hanging helpless and bleeding. Only for amoment, for as the girl sprang past him, he wheeled about, seized herwith his strong left arm, and holding her close to him in a vice-likeclutch, hissed, while the ghastly paleness caused by the flowing bloodoverspread his face:
"Little demon! I will kill you before I will lose you now!You--shall--not--esca--"
A deathly faintness overcame him, and he fell heavily; still claspingthe girl, now senseless like himself.
"In her hand, steadfast and surely aimed, a tinypistol--"--page 92.]
Hearing the pistol shot, and almost simultaneously a heavy fall,Henry hurried through the long passage and threw open the door. Oneglance sufficed, and then he rushed down the stairs in frantic haste.
Meantime, Clarence Vaughan, punctual to the time appointed, had drivenrapidly to the spot designated by Madeline. He was about to alightfrom the carriage, when he drew back suddenly, and sat in the shadowas a man passed up the street.
It was Lucian Davlin, and he entered the building bearing the numberMadeline had given in her note.
Instantly Vaughan comprehended the situation. She had sent for aid inthis man's absence, and his return might frustrate her plans.Pondering upon the best course to pursue, he descended from thecarriage, and paced the length of the block. Turning in his promenade,his ear was greeted by a pistol shot. Could it come from thatbuilding? It sounded from there certainly. It was now five minutespast the time appointed; could it be there was foul play? He paused atthe foot of the stairs, irresolute.
Suddenly there was a rush of feet, and Henry came flying down, thewhites of his eyes looking as if they would never resume their naturalproportions. Clarence intercepted the man as he essayed to pass,evidently without having seen him.
"Oh, sir!--Oh, doctor, come right up stairs, quick, sir," heexclaimed.
"Was that shot from here, my man?" inquired Doctor Vaughan, as hefollowed up the stairs.
"Yes, sir," hurrying on.
"Any people in the building besides your master and the lady?"
"No, sir; not at this time. This way, sir."
He threw open the door and stepped back. Entering the room, this iswhat Clarence Vaughan saw:
Lying upon the floor in a pool of blood, the splendid form of LucianDavlin, one arm dripping the red life fluid, the other clasping closethe form of a beautiful girl. His eyes were closed and his face pallidas the dead. The eyes of the girl were staring wide and set, her faceexpressing unutterable fear and horror, every muscle rigid as if in astruggle still. One hand was clenched, and thrown out as if to wardoff that death-like grasp, while the other clutched a pistol, stillwarm and smelling of powder.
It was the work of a moment to stop the flow of blood, and restore thewounded man to consciousness. But first he had removed the insensiblegirl from Davlin's grasp, laid her upon a bed in the inner room and,removing the fatal weapon from her hand, instructed Henry how to applythe remedies a skilful surgeon has always about him, especially in thecity.
At the first sure symptoms of slowly returning life, Doctor Vaughansummoned Henry to look after his master, whom he left, with ratherunprofessional alacrity, to attend to the fair patient in whosewelfare he felt so much interest. As he bent over the stillunconscious girl, his face was shadowed with troubled thought. She wasin no common faint, and feeling fully assured what the result wouldbe, he almost feared to see the first fluttering return of life.
At last a shudder agitated her form, and looking up with just a gleamof recognition, she passed into another swoon, thence to another.Through long weary hours she only opened her eyes to close them,blinded with the vision of unutterable woe; and so the long night woreaway.
Dr. Vaughan had given brief, stern orders, in accordance with whichLucian Davlin had entrusted his wound to another surgeon for dressing,and then, still in obedience to orders, had swallowed a soothingpotion and betaken himself to other apartments.
Henry had summoned a trusty nurse well known to Clarence Vaughan, toassist him at the bedside of Madeline.
In the gray of morning, pallid and interesting, with his arm in asling, Lucian reappeared in the sick room. Evidently he had notemployed all of the intervening time in slumber, for his course ofaction seemed to have been fully matured.
"She won't be able to leave here for many days, I should fancy?" hehalf inquired in a low tone, sinking languidly into a sleepy-hollow,commanding a view of the face of the patient, and the back of thephysician.
"Not alive," was the brief but significant answer.
"Not alive! Great heavens, doctor, don't tell me that my miserableaccident will cost the little girl her life!"
"Ah! your accident: how was that?" bending over Madeline.
"Why, you see," explained Davlin, "She picked up the pistol, and notbeing acquainted with the use of fire-arms, desired to investigateunder my instructions. Having loaded it, explaining the process byillustration, she, being timid, begged me to put it up. Laughing ather fear, I was about to obey, when moving around carelessly, my handcame in contact with that chair, setting the thing off. The sight ofmy bleeding arm frightened her so that I saw she was about to faint.As I caught her I myself lost consciousness, and we fell together. Buthow will she come out, doctor? tell me that; poor little girl!"
"She will come out from this trance soon, to die almost immediately,or to pass through a fever stage that may result fatally later. Herbodily condition is one of unusual prostration from fatigue; andevidently, she has been sustaining some undue excitement for aconsiderable time."
"Been traveling, and pretty well tired with the journey. That, Isuppose, taken with this pistol affair--but tell me, doctor, what shewill need, so that I may attend to it immediately."
"If she is living at noon," said Dr. Vaughan, reflectively, "it willbe out of the question to remove her from here, without risking herlife for weeks to come. If she comes out of this, and you will leaveher in my hands, I will, with the aid of this good woman," noddingtoward the nurse, "undertake to pull her through. It will be necessarythat she have perfect quiet, and sees no face that might in any mannerexcite her, during her illness and convalescence."
Davlin mused for a few moments before making answer. He did not careto excite remark by calling in unnecessary attendants. Dr. Vaughan heknew by reputation as a skilful physician. As well trust him asanother, he thought, and it was no part of his plan to let this girldie if skill could save her.
In answer to his natural inquiry as to how the doctor was so speedilyon the spot when needed, Henry had truthfully replied that he knew themedical man by sight, and that, fortunately, he was passing when heran down to the street for assistance. Davlin was further conv
incedthat he, Henry, knew nothing save that the young lady rang for him toshow her out, and he, according to orders, had obeyed.
"Well, sir," Davlin said, at last, "I shall leave the lady and thepremises entirely in your hands, as soon as the crisis has passed.Then, as my presence might not prove beneficial, while I carry thisarm in a sling, at least, I will run down into the country for a fewdays. My man, here, is entirely at your disposal. Don't spare anypains to pull her through safely, doctor. I will look in again atnoon."
He rose and went softly out of the room, the doctor having answeredhim only by a nod of assent.
"Zounds, how weak I feel," he ejaculated. "I hope the girl won't die.Anyhow, I have no notion of figuring at a death-bed scene. So I'lljust keep myself out of the way until the thing is decided. Then, I'llrun down and let Cora coddle me up a bit. I can explain my wounded armas the result of a little affair at the card-table."
Noon came, and slowly, slowly, stern Death relaxed his grasp upon themiserable girl, for Death, like man, finds no satisfaction in claimingwilling victims. Slowly the life fluttered back to her heart; andbecause Death had yielded her up, and to retain it would be to loseher life, reason forsook her.
Under the watchful care of the skilled nurse, and the ministrations ofthe young physician, she now lay tossing in the delirium of fever.
Nothing worse to fear, for days at least, reported the doctor. So theafternoon train bore Lucian Davlin away from the city and his victim,to seek repose and diversion in the society of his comrade, Cora.
"She will come out of this now, I think," he muttered. "Then--Oh! I'lltame your proud spirit yet, my lady! I would not give you up now forhalf a million."
And he meant it.
Madeline Payne, the Detective's Daughter Page 8
