Mrs. Balfame: A Novel

by Gertrude Franklin Horn Atherton

  CHAPTER XXII

  Alys borrowed a horse and cart from her cousin Mr. Phipps, Chief ofPolice in Elsinore, who kept a livery stable, and took the shortest cutinto the country. She wanted to think out many things and think them outalone. She drove rapidly until she came within sight and sound of thesea. Then she let the lines lie loosely on the back of her old friendColonel Roosevelt, who had been named in his fiery colt-hood, but inthese days, save under compulsion, was as slow as American law. Heambled along, and Alys, in the booming stillness and the fresh salt air,felt the humid waves roll out of her brain. She saw clearly, but she wasaghast and depressed.

  Presented by nature with an odd and arresting exterior, in color andfeature as well as in subtlety of expression, sketched and flattered bysuch artists as she met, she had, ever since old enough forintrospection, striven for uncommon personal developments that shouldjustify her obverse and set her still farther apart from mere woman. Ifnot born with an intense aversion from the commonplace (and it is safeto say that no one is), she had conceived it early enough to train ararely plastic mind to striking viewpoints, while a natural tact savedher from isolation. If she had been as original as she thought herself,she would have antagonised many people.

  Assuredly a certain nobility of nature and a revulsion from all thatwas base were innate; although, soon learning of the many pitfallsyawning for humanity, she had assiduously cultivated these her higherinclinations, an enterprise measurably assisted by the equable temper,the feminine charm, the bright intelligence and the quick sympathiesthat made her many friends. Moreover, her freedom from the usualyearnings of her sex in the matter of riches and subservience to therace, which wreck the lives of so many women, and her love of the artsand delight in her own little talent, all served to deponderate theburden of life.

  She had liked many men as friends, and was proud of the fact that onlythe more intelligent were attracted to her, but she had arrived at theage of twenty-six without even imagining herself seriously in love, sointense was her idealism. This was another of her deliberatecultivations, for here also was she resolute that as nature had done somuch for her, marking her as a girl apart, so should she insist uponhaving an uncommon mate. It was to this end even more than for thebarren satisfaction of pleasing Mother Nature that she had tilled thegarden of her mind with both science and imagination. When she loved, itshould be like a woman, of course; she had no delusions about makingover human nature to suit passing fashions in woman; but while she neverignored the vital passions that formed the basis of her uniquepersonality and strong will, she was determined that they should bequickened only by a man who would make equal demands upon all that wasfine in her character and aspiring in her mind.

  The awful collapse of this cherished structure, her spiritual house,under her hopeless and violent passion for Dwight Rush had almostdemoralised her. After she had won herself to reason once more, shestill had sat, stunned, among the ruins. It was true that Rush was allthat she had demanded of man and that he emanated a promise of happinessalong strictly modern lines--which was all she asked, being no romanticfool; but not only had she loved him unasked, sacrificing the first andperhaps the dearest of her dreams, to be wooed and awakened andsurprised, but, accepting the inevitable (the man being overburdened,like most busy young Americans, and unselfconscious), she deliberatelyhad set herself to awaken _him_--and for nought. For worse than nought:he had instantly taken fright and withdrawn.

  Of the terrific upheaval of that time, like some graveyard of the seaflung putrid and phosphorescent to the surface by submarine vulcanism,she had ceased to think as soon as her will was reinstated in command.Immediately she had striven to rebuild her house lest she be swamped inmere femaleness, so permanently demoralised that life would be quiteunendurable. She had cultivated the heights too long. She might tumbleoff occasionally, but in no other atmosphere could she breathe deeplyand realise herself, find any measure of content. It had occurred to herthat if she had been born in the gutter and grown to adolescence with noennobling influence, she would have developed into a notable force forevil. At all events, she liked to think so; many women of stainlesslives do.

  She guessed this, having a saving sense of humour, but did not expandupon it, not being inclined to humour at the moment. Accompanying herresolution to be finer and better than ever, to fortify herself againstlife with some degree of satisfaction in herself, was the hope ofcomplete deliverance from what she called the Dwight Rush Idea. In duecourse she had conquered the obsession, for pride and self-disgustserved her like first-aid surgeons on the battlefield; and although shefelt amputated and scarred, she had lost her sense of humiliation. Buther heart still accelerated its beats when she met Rush, and no will isstrong enough to prevent the recurrence of the mental image; only timecan dim it. But it was not until Broderick had left her alone in herstudio with the poisons of fear and jealousy implanted that she hadadmitted she still loved him, probably must continue to love him foryears to come.

  In that hour she had hated Mrs. Balfame, although she neither believedher guilty nor was tempted to the dastardly course of helping to forcethe appearance of guilt upon her. And for a time that night she hadhoped she hated Dwight Rush also, so utterly disgusted and indignant wasshe that he could prefer a faded woman of forty-odd to a unique andbeautiful girl like herself.

  But once more Miss Crumley's sense of proportion enforced itself, andshe reflected sternly that men had fallen in love with women older thanthemselves since the world began, and that some of thosetranscendent--and lasting--passions had made history. She was no greenvillage girl to be astounded at the least common phase of the sexualadventure. It was then she had given way to tears, for although shemight be intelligent enough to admit this most unpardonable of nature'sinformalities, she could regret it with bitterness and despair.

  Later had come her fear for Rush's safety. Not for a moment did shesuspect him of the crime, but if accused of it during the process ofelimination, there was the appalling doubt that he could prove an alibi.As likely as not he had missed his man in Brooklyn--she knew that he hadexpected to dine and spend the evening at the Country Club--or had notgone there; knowing Balfame's ugly temper when drunk, what more naturalthan that he should hide in the grounds to be near at hand in case theman were disposed to wreak vengeance on his wife for his ownhumiliation. It was Alys's theory that the murder was political.

  Until to-day! From the moment that she saw Mrs. Balfame empty and rinsethe vial, she was convinced that Broderick was right in his deductionsand that for some reason the terrible woman had changed her mind andused the revolver. It was a stupider act than she would have expected ofMrs. Balfame, for Dave was a man whose sudden death would excite littlesuspicion, nor would Mrs. Balfame be the woman to use a common poison.Her intimacy with Dr. Anna would put her on the track of one of thoseorganic potions that were too subtle for chemical analysis. She hadheard doctors talk of them herself.

  Then abruptly she recalled the sinister change in Mrs. Balfame's smilingcountenance on that day she sketched her at the Friday Club; her mindopened and closed on the conviction that in that moment Mrs. Balfame hadconceived the purpose of murder.

  But why the change of method? She dismissed the riddle. It was not forher to unravel. Nor did she care. The fact was enough. This good friendof her family was an abominable creature from whom in even mentalcontact she shuddered away with a spasm of spiritual nausea.

  But that was not her own problem. No doubt Mrs. Balfame would beacquitted; Alys hoped so, at all events, for she wanted no such a stainon Elsinore, where, she thanked God, she lived, although she soughtknowledge and income in the City of New York. For the same reason, shehad no desire that the guilty woman should pay her debt by even a briefterm in Auburn; but all that was beside the point. What Alys felt shewould give her soul to ravish from this thrice accursed woman, soformidable in her peril, were the services of Dwight Rush. If he wereMrs. Balfame's chief counsel he would see her constantly, and alone--forhours on end, perhaps, for
he must consult with her, rehearse her,instruct her, keep up her spirits, console her. This might not be thewhole duty of counsel, but in the circumstances no doubt she hadunderestimated, if anything. And even if he believed her guilty, hemight in that intimacy love her the more; not only would he pity herprofoundly and see himself her natural protector, but he would be heartand soul in the great case, and it would not be long before the case andthe woman were one.

  If, however, Rush could be made to believe now that the woman was amurderess, would he not decline to take the case? He was hardly the manto defend man or woman whom from the outset he knew to be guilty,although when immersed in the case he would keep on, whatever therevelations. Alys believed that it was possible for her to convince him.She could inform him of the needle-witted Mr. Broderick's suspicions andof her own confirmations; and she could tell him of her certainknowledge that Mrs. Balfame had a revolver; she had seen it eight monthsago, when Balfame brought it home from New York and told his wife todischarge it in the air if, when alone, she heard a man breaking in.

  It had signified little to her at the moment that Mrs. Balfame haddenied to police and reporters that she possessed a revolver, for itmight by chance be a .41, and it was not to be expected that even aninnocent woman would challenge public doubt and possible arrest. But herdenial and probable concealment of the weapon were significant to Alysnow. She remembered that Dr. Anna had spent the early hours of Sundayalone with Mrs. Balfame. No doubt the wicked woman had found both reliefand counsel in confessing to a friend like Anna Steuer, a creature sostrong and staunch that the secret would be as safe as in her own guiltysoul. Anna, of course, had taken the pistol and dropped it in the marshwhen she visited Farmer Houston's wife later in the day. If she couldbut get Dr. Anna to speak.

  Alys raised her eyes under their bent and frowning brows and looked upto where the Brabant Hospital stood on rising ground beside the sea. Shegave a gasp as she found herself turning the horse's head in thatdirection. What did she intend to do? Denounce Mrs. Balfame to DwightRush? She fancied she heard an inner crash. Could she do this and escapefinal demoralisation? Heretofore she had at least committed no actinvolving moral degradation; her upheavals had affected herself aloneand were her inviolate secret; but if she made a last desperate throw towin Dwight Rush by first filling him with loathing of her rival, shewould be committed to a course of conduct from which there would be noescape for months, perhaps years to come. For if she won him,--towardwhich end she must plan with every female art she knew,--she never couldease her soul with confession. Her only chance of keeping a man likethat, after the first effulgence had merged into the healthytemperateness of practical married life, was to avoid the majordisillusions.

  And if she by her own deliberate act went to pieces morally, could sheplay up? Should she even want to play up? Could one deliberately knockthe foundations from under one's cherished spiritual structure, rearedwith infinite pains upon natural inclinations, and continue to be even apale reflection of one's higher self? She might, after the firstexcitement of striving to achieve her immediate object was over, hateherself too deeply to love or even to live.

  She drew her brows more closely and expelled her breath through herteeth. For the moment, at least, she felt all female, ready to defy thefuture and her own soul to obtain possession of her mate. That he washer mate she obstinately believed, temporarily deflected from hisnatural progress toward herself by one of those powerful delusions thatafflict every man in the course of his life. And if she did not open hiseyes at once, the temporary deflection would merge into the straightcourse toward marriage with a she-demon....

  She drove into the hospital yard, threw the reins over ColonelRoosevelt's back and asked for the superintendent, Mrs. Dissosway, whohappened to be her aunt.