CHAPTER XX
THE VISION
It was growing dusk when Anne at length came to the Manor. She wasutterly weary and faint from lack of food. The servant who admitted herlooked at her strangely, as if half afraid.
"Please have tea taken to my sitting-room," she said quietly, as shepassed him.
And with that she went straight to her room. Standing before a mirror toremove her hat, she caught sight of something that seemed to stab herheart. The cream cloth coat she wore was all spattered with blood.
She stood rigid, not breathing, staring into the white face aboveit--the white face of a woman she hardly knew, with compressed lips andwild, tragic eyes. What was it those eyes held? Was it hatred? Was itmadness? Was it--?
She broke away horror-stricken, and stripped the coat from her with handslike ice. Again through her mind, with feverish insistence, ran thosewords that had startled her earlier in the day. She found herselfrepeating them deliriously, under her breath: "I beheld Satan--aslightning--fall from heaven!"
Why did they haunt her so? What was it in the utterance thatfrightened her? What meaning did they hold for her? What hidden terrorlay behind it? What had happened to her? What nightmare horror wasthis clawing at her heart, lacerating, devouring, destroying? It wassomething she had never felt before, something too terrible to face,too overwhelming to ignore.
Was she going mad, she asked herself? And like a dreadful answer to ariddle inscrutable her white lips whispered those haunting unforgettablewords: "I beheld Satan--as lightning--fall from heaven."
Mechanically she bathed her face and hands and passed into hersitting-room, where her tea awaited her. A bright fire crackled there,and her favourite chair was drawn up to it. The kettle hissed merrily ona spirit-lamp.
Entering, she found, somewhat to her surprise, old Dimsdale waiting toserve her.
"Thank you," she said. "I can help myself."
"If your ladyship will allow me," he said deferentially.
She sat down, conscious of a physical weakness she could not control. Andthe old butler, quiet and courteous and very grave, proceeded to make thetea and wait upon her in silence.
Anne lay back in her chair with her eyes upon the fire, and accepted hisministrations without further speech. There was a very thoroughunderstanding between herself and Dimsdale, an understanding establishedand maintained without words.
The tea revived her, and after a little she turned her head and lookedup at him.
"Well, Dimsdale?"
Dimsdale coughed. "It was about Sir Giles that I wanted to speak to yourladyship."
"Well?" she said again.
"Sir Giles, my lady, is not himself--not at all himself," Dimsdale toldher cautiously. "I was wondering just before you came in if I didn'tought to send for the doctor."
"Why, Dimsdale?" Anne looked straight up into the old man's troubledface, but her eyes had a strangely aloof expression, as though the matterscarcely touched her.
Dimsdale shook his head. "It's not the same as usual, my lady. I've neverseen him like this before. There's something--I don't rightly knowwhat--about him that fair scares me. If your ladyship will only let mesend for the doctor--"
He paused. Anne's eyes had gone back to the fire. She seemed to beconsidering.
"I don't think the doctor would be at home," she said at last. "Wait tillthe morning, Dimsdale--unless he is really ill."
"My lady, it's not that," said Dimsdale. "There's nothing ails his body.But--but--" he faltered a little, and finally, "It's his mind," he said,"if I may make so bold as to say it. I don't believe as he's safe. I'mafraid he'll be doing a mischief to--someone."
His pause was not lost upon Anne. Again she raised her eyes and steadilyregarded him.
"To whom, Dimsdale?" she asked.
"My lady--" the old man murmured unwillingly.
"To me?" she questioned in a quiet, unmoved voice. "Why are youafraid of that?"
Dimsdale hesitated.
"Tell me," she said. But again her eyes had sunk to the fire. She seemedas one not vitally interested, as one whose thoughts were elsewhere.
Reluctantly Dimsdale made answer: "He's been cutting your ladyship'sportrait into strips and burning 'em in the study fire. It was dreadfulto see him, so intent like and quiet. I saw him put his hand right intothe flame once, and he didn't seem to know. And he came in in one of hisblack moods with his hunting-crop broken right in two. Carrying thepieces he was, and glaring like as if all the world was against him. Iwas afraid there would be trouble when he came home to lunch and foundyour ladyship not there."
He stopped, arrested by a sudden movement from Anne. She had leanedforward and covered her face with her hands. The tension of her attitudewas such that Dimsdale became strongly aware that his presence was anintrusion. Yet, the matter being urgent, he stood his ground.
He waited silently, and presently Anne lifted her head. "I think youmust leave the matter till the morning, Dimsdale," she said. "It could dono good to have the doctor at this hour. Besides, I doubt if he couldcome. And Sir Giles will be himself again after a night's rest."
"I'm very much afraid not, my lady," said Dimsdale lugubriously. "He'sdrinking brandy--neat brandy--all the while. I've never seen him drinklike that before. It fair scares me, and that's the truth."
"You are not afraid on your own account?" Anne asked.
"Oh, no, my lady. He wouldn't interfere with me. It's your ladyship--"
"Ah, well," she said, quietly interrupting, "you need not be afraid forme either. I shall not go downstairs again to-night. He will not beexpecting me."
"Very good, my lady."
Dimsdale looked somewhat relieved but not wholly satisfied. He lingeredas if he longed yet did not dare to say more.
As for Anne, she sat quite motionless gazing into the fire, her handsclasped very tightly before her. She seemed to have dismissed the subjectunder discussion and the faithful Dimsdale simultaneously from her mind.
After a few seconds the old butler realised this, and without further adohe removed the tea-things and went quietly away.
Anne did not notice his departure. She was too deep in thought. Herbrain was steadier now, and she found it possible to think. For the firsttime she was asking herself if she would be justified in bringing herlong martyrdom to an end. She had fulfilled her part of the bargain,patiently, conscientiously, unflaggingly, throughout those seven bitteryears. She had married her husband without loving him, and he had neversought to win her love. He had married her for the sake of conqueringher, attracted by the very coldness with which she had tried in hergirlhood to repel him. She had caught his fancy in those far-off days.Her queenliness, her grace, had captivated him. And later, with the sheerhunter's instinct, he had pursued her, and had eventually discovered ameans of entrapping her. He had named his conditions and she had namedhers. In the end he had dispatched the father to Canada and made thedaughter his wife.
But his fancy for her had scarcely outlasted his capture. He had takenpleasure for a while in humiliating her, counting it sport if hesucceeded in arousing her rare indignation. But soon even this had ceasedto amuse him. He had developed into that most odious of all bullies, thedomestic tyrant, and had therewith sunk back into those habits ofintemperance which his marriage had scarcely interrupted. He was manyyears her senior. He treated her as a slave, and if now and then anuncomfortable sensation of inferiority assailed him, he took his revengeupon her in evil, glowering tempers that rendered him more of a beastthan a man.
But yet she had borne with him. By neither word nor action had she evervoluntarily widened the breach between them: His growing dislike had nothad any visible effect upon her. She had done her duty faithfully throughall, had borne his harshness and his insults in silence, with a patiencetoo majestic, too colossal, for his understanding.
And now for the first time she asked herself, Did he want to be rid ofher? Had he invented this monstrous grievance to drive her from him? Werethe days of her bondage indeed drawing a
t last to an end? Had she bornewith him long enough? Was she free--was she free to go?
Her heart quickened at the bare thought. How gladly would she set herselfto make a living when once this burden had been lifted from her!
But she would not relinquish it without his sanction. She would befaithful to the last, true to that bargain she had struck with him solong ago. Yet surely he could not refuse it. She was convinced that hehated her.
Again she felt that strange new life thrilling in her veins. Again shefelt herself almost young. To be free! To be free! To choose her ownfriends without fear; to live her own life in peace; to know no furthertumults or petty tyrannies--to be free!
The prospect dazzled her. She lifted her face and gasped for breath.
Then, hearing a sound at her door, she turned.
A white-faced servant stood on the threshold. "If you please, my lady,your coat is in a dreadful state. I was afraid there must have been anaccident."
Anne stared at the woman for a few seconds with the dazed eyes of onesuddenly awakened.
"Yes," she said slowly at length. "There was--an accident. Mr. Nap Errolwas--hurt while skiing."
The woman looked at her with frank curiosity, but there was that abouther mistress at the moment that did not encourage inquiry or comment.
She stood for a little silent; then, "What had I better do with the coat,my lady?" she asked diffidently.
Anne made an abrupt gesture. The dazed look in her eyes had given placeto horror. "Take it away!" she said sharply. "Do what you like with it! Inever want to see it again."
"Very good, my lady."
The woman withdrew, and Anne covered her face with her hands once more,and shuddered from head to foot.
The Knave of Diamonds Page 20
