The Man in Black: An Historical Novel of the Days of Queen Anne
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CHAPTER XLV.
Mrs. Hazleton found the inconvenience of having a dear friend. It wasin vain that she tried to get rid of her visitor. The visitor wouldnot be got rid of. She was deaf to hints; she paid no attention to anykind of inuendoes; and she looked so knowing, so full of importantsecrets, so quietly mischievous, that Mrs. Hazleton was cowed by thatmost unnerving of all things, the consciousness of meditated crime.She could not help thinking that the fair widow saw into her thoughtsand purposes--she could not help doubting the impenetrability of theveil behind which hypocrisy hides the hideout features of unrulypassion--she could not help thinking that the keen-sighted and astutemust perceive some of the movements at least of the rude movers of thepainted puppets of the face--the smile, the gay looks, the sparklingeyes, the calm placid brow, the dignified serenity, which act theirpart in the glittering scene of the world, too often worked by themost harsh, foul, and brutal of all the motives of the human heart.But she was irritated too, as well as fearful; and there was a sort ofcombat went on between impatience and apprehension. Had she given wayto inclination she would have ordered one of her servants to take theintruder by the shoulders and put her out of doors; but for morethan an hour after the time she had fixed for setting out, vaguefears--however groundless and absurd--were sufficiently powerful torestrain her temper. She was not of a character, however, to be longcowed by any thing. She had great confidence in herself--in her ownresources--in her own conduct and good fortune likewise. Thatconfidence might have been a little shaken indeed by events which hadlately occurred; but anger soon rallied it, and brought it back to heraid. She asked herself if she were a fool to dread that woman--what itwas she had discovered--what it was that she could testify. She hadmerely seen her doing what almost every lady did a hundred times inthe year in those day--preparing some simples in the still-room; andgradually as she found that gentle hints proved unsuccessful, sheresumed her natural dignity of demeanor. That again gave way to achilling silence, and then to a somewhat irritable imperiousness, andrising from her chair, she begged her visitor to excuse her, allegingthat she had business of importance to transact which would occupy herduring the whole day.
Not one of all the variation of conduct--not one sign, however slight,of impatience, doubt, or anger--escaped the keen eye that was fixedupon her. Mrs. Hazleton, under the influence of conscience, did notexactly betray the dark secrets of her own heart, but she raised intoimportance, an act in itself the most trifling, which would havepassed without any notice had she not been anxious to conceal it.
As soon as her visitor, taking a hint that could not be mistaken, hadquitted the room and the house, with an air of pique and ill-humor,Mrs. Hazleton returned to the still-room and recommenced heroperations there; but she found her hand shaking and her whole frameagitated.
"Am I a fool," she asked herself, "to be thus moved by an empty gossiplike that? I must conquer this, or I shall be unfit for my task."
She sat down at a table, leaned her head upon her hand, gazed forthout of the little window, forced her mind away from the present,thought of birds and flowers, and pictures and statues, and of the twosunshiny worlds of art and nature--of every thing in short but thedark, dark cares of her own passions. It was a trick she had learnedto play with herself--one of those pieces of internal policy by whichshe had contrived so often and so long, to rule and master withdespotic sway the frequent rebellions of the body against the tyrannyof the mind.
She had not sat there two minutes, however, ere there was a tap at thedoor, and she started with a quick and jarring thrill, as if thatknock had been a summons of fate. The next instant she looked quicklyaround, however, and was satisfied that whoever entered could find nocause for suspicion. She was there seated quietly at the table. Thevial was out of sight, the fatal powder hidden in the palm of herhand, and she said aloud, "Come in."
The butler entered, bowing profoundly and saying, "The carriage is atthe door, madam, and Wilson has just come back from the house of Mr.Shanks, but he could not find him."
The man hesitated a little as if he wished to add something more, andMrs. Hazleton replied in a somewhat sharp tone, "I told you when Isent it away just now that I would tell you when I was ready. I shallnot be so for half an hour; but let it wait, and do not admit any one.Mr. Shanks must be found, and informed that I want to see him earlyto-morrow, as I shall go to London on the following day."
"I am sorry to say, madam," replied the butler, "that if the talk ofthe town is true, he will not be able to come. They say he has beenapprehended on a charge of perjury and forgery in regard to thatbusiness of Sir Philip Hastings, and has been sent off to the countyjail."
Mrs. Hazleton looked certainly a little aghast, and merely saying"Indeed!" she waved her hand for the man to withdraw.
She then sat silent and motionless for at least five minutes. Whatpassed within her I cannot tell; but when she rose, though pale asmarble, she was firm, calm, and self-possessed as ever. She turned thekey in the lock; she drew a curtain which covered the lower half ofthe window, farther across, so that no eye from without, except theeye of God, could see what she was doing there within. She then drewforth the vial from its nook, opened out the small packet of powder,and poured part of it into a glass. She seemed as if she were going topour the whole, but she paused in doing so, and folded up the restagain, saying, "That must be fully enough; I will keep the rest; itmay be serviceable, and I can get no more."
She gazed down upon the ground near her feet with a look of cold,stern, but awful resolution, as if there had been an open grave beforeher; and then she placed the packet in her glove, poured a littledistilled water into the glass, shook it, and held the mixture up tothe light. The powder had in great part dissolved, but not entirely,and she added a small quantity more of the distilled water, and pouredthe whole into the vial, which was already about one-third full of adark colored liquid.
"Now I will go," she said, concealing the bottle. But when she reachedthe door, and had her hand upon the lock, she paused and remained invery deep thought for an instant, with her brow slightly contractedand her lip quivering. Heaven knows what she thought of then,--whetherit was doubt, or fear, or pity, or remorse--but she said in a lowtone, "Down, fool! it shall be done," and she passed out of the room.
She paused suddenly in the little passage which led to the still-room,by a pair of double doors, into the principal part of the house,perceiving with some degree of consternation that she had beenunconsciously carrying the vial with its dark colored contents in herhand, exposed to the view of all observers. Her eye ran round thepassage with a quick and eager glance; but there was no one in sight,and she felt reassured. Even at that moment she could smile at her ownheedlessness, and she did smile as she placed the bottle in herpocket, saying to herself, "How foolish! I must not suffer such fitsof absence to come upon me, or I shall spoil all."
She then walked quietly to her dressing-room, arranged her dress forthe little journey before her, and descended again to the hall, wherethe servants were waiting for her corning. After she had entered thecarriage, however, she again fell into a fit of deep thought, closedher eyes, and remained as if half asleep for nearly an hour. Perhapsit would be too much to scrutinize the state or changes of herfeelings during that long, painful lapse of thought. That there was astruggle--a terrible struggle--can hardly be doubted--that opportunitywas given her for repentance, for desistance, between the purpose andthe deed, we know; and there can be little doubt that the small,still voice--which is ever the voice of God--spoke to her from thespirit-depth within, and warned her to forbear. But she was of anunconquerable nature; nothing could turn her; nothing could overpowerher, when she had once resolved on any act. There was no persuasionhad effect; no remonstrance was powerful. Reason, conscience, habititself, were but dust in the balance in the face of one of herdeterminations.
She roused herself suddenly from her fit of moody abstraction, whenthe carriage was still more than a mile from the house of Sir PhilipHastings. S
he looked at the watch which hung by her side, and gazed atthe sky; and then she said to herself, "That woman's impertinentintrusion was intolerable. However; I shall get there an hour beforethe twenty-four hours have passed, and doubtless she will have kepther word and refrained from speaking till she has seen me; but I amafraid I shall find her woke up from her midday doze, and that maymake the matter somewhat difficult. Difficult! why I have seenjugglers do tricks a thousand times to which this is a mere trifle. Mysleight of hand will not fail me, I think;" and then she set her mindto work to plan out every step of her proceedings.
All was clearly and definitely arranged by the time she arrived at thedoor of Sir Philip Hastings' house. Her face was cleared of everycloud, her whole demeanor under perfect control. She was the Mrs.Hazleton, the calm, dignified, graceful Mrs. Hazleton, which the worldknew; and when she descended from the carriage with a slow but easystep, and spoke to the coachman about one of the springs which hadcreaked and made a noise on the way, not one of Sir Philip Hastings'servants could have believed that her mind was occupied with any thingmore grave than the idle frivolous thoughts of an every-day society.