The Woman in the Alcove

by Anna Katharine Green

  XII. ALMOST

  "This is your patient. Your new nurse, my dear. What did you say yourname is? Miss Ayers?"

  "Yes, Mr. Grey, Alice Ayers."

  "Oh, what a sweet name!"

  This expressive greeting, from the patient herself, was the firstheart-sting I received,--a sting which brought a flush into my cheekwhich I would fain have kept down.

  "Since a change of nurses was necessary, I am glad they sent me onelike you," the feeble, but musical voice went on, and I saw a wasted buteager hand stretched out.

  In a whirl of strong feeling I advanced to take it. I had not counted onsuch a reception. I had not expected any bond of congeniality to springup between this high-feeling English girl and myself to make my purposehateful to me. Yet, as I stood there looking down at her bright ifwasted face, I felt that it would be very easy to love so gentle andcordial a being, and dreaded raising my eyes to the gentleman at my sidelest I should see something in him to hamper me, and make this attempt,which I had undertaken in such loyalty of spirit, a misery to myself andineffectual to the man I had hoped to save by it. When I did look up andcatch the first beams of Mr. Grey's keen blue eyes fixed inquiringly onme, I neither knew what to think nor how to act. He was tall and firmlyknit, and had an intellectual aspect altogether. I was conscious ofregarding him with a decided feeling of awe, and found myself forgettingwhy I had come there, and what my suspicions were,--suspicions which hadcarried hope with them, hope for myself and hope for my lover, who wouldnever escape the opprobrium, even if he did the punishment, of thisgreat crime, were this, the only other person who could possibly beassociated with it, found to be the fine, clear-souled man he appearedto be in this my first interview with him.

  Perceiving very soon that his apprehensions in my regard were limited toa fear lest I should not feel at ease in my new home under the restraintof a presence more accustomed to intimidate than attract strangers, Ithrew aside all doubts of myself and met the advances of both father anddaughter with that quiet confidence which my position there demanded.

  The result both gratified and grieved me. As a nurse entering on herfirst case I was happy; as a woman with an ulterior object in viewverging on the audacious and unspeakable, I was wretched and regretfuland just a little shaken in the conviction which had hitherto upheld me.

  I was therefore but poorly prepared to meet the ordeal which awaited me,when, a little later in the day, Mr. Grey called me into the adjoiningroom, and, after saying that it would afford him great relief to goout for an hour or so, asked if I were afraid to be left alone with mypatient.

  "O no, sir--" I began, but stopped in secret dismay. I was afraid, butnot on account of her condition; rather on account of my own. What ifI should be led into betraying my feelings on finding myself under noother eye than her own! What if the temptation to probe her poor sickmind should prove stronger than my duty toward her as a nurse!

  My tones were hesitating but Mr. Grey paid little heed; his mind was toofixed on what he wished to say himself.

  "Before I go," said he, "I have a request to make--I may as well say acaution to give you. Do not, I pray, either now or at any future time,carry or allow any one else to carry newspapers into Miss Grey's room.They are just now too alarming. There has been, as you know, a dreadfulmurder in this city. If she caught one glimpse of the headlines, or sawso much as the name of Fairbrother--which--which is a name she knows,the result might be very hurtful to her. She is not only extremelysensitive from illness but from temperament. Will you be careful?"

  "I shall be careful."

  It was such an effort for me to say these words, to say anything in thestate of mind into which I had been thrown by his unexpected allusion tothis subject, that I unfortunately drew his attention to myself and itwas with what I felt to be a glance of doubt that he added with decidedemphasis:

  "You must consider this whole subject as a forbidden one in this family.Only cheerful topics are suitable for the sick-room. If Miss Greyattempts to introduce any other, stop her. Do not let her talk aboutanything which will not be conducive to her speedy recovery. These arethe only instructions I have to give you; all others must come from herphysician."

  I made some reply with as little show of emotion as possible. It seemedto satisfy him, for his face cleared as he kindly observed:

  "You have a very trustworthy look for one so young. I shall rest easywhile you are with her, and I shall expect you to be always with herwhen I am not. Every moment, mind. She is never to be left alone withgossiping servants. If a word is mentioned in her hearing about thiscrime which seems to be in everybody's mouth, I shall feel forced,greatly as I should regret the fad, to blame you."

  This was a heart-stroke, but I kept up bravely, changing color perhaps,but not to such a marked degree as to arouse any deeper suspicion in hismind than that I had been wounded in my amour propre.

  "She shall be well guarded," said I. "You may trust me to keep from herall avoidable knowledge of this crime."

  He bowed and I was about to leave his presence, when he detained meby remarking with the air of one who felt that some explanation wasnecessary:

  "I was at the ball where this crime took place. Naturally it has made adeep impression on me and would on her if she heard of it."

  "Assuredly," I murmured, wondering if he would say more and how I shouldhave the courage to stand there and listen if he did.

  "It is the first time I have ever come in contact with crime," he wenton with what, in one of his reserved nature, seemed a hardly naturalinsistence. "I could well have been spared the experience. A tragedywith which one has been even thus remotely connected produces a lastingeffect upon the mind."

  "Oh yes, oh yes!" I murmured, edging involuntarily toward the door. DidI not know? Had I not been there, too; I, little I, whom he stood gazingdown upon from such a height, little realizing the fatality which unitedus and, what was even a more overwhelming thought to me at the moment,the fact that of all persons in the world the shrinking little being,into whose eyes he was then looking, was, perhaps, his greatest enemyand the one person, great or small, from whom he had the most to fear.

  But I was no enemy to his gentle daughter and the relief I felt atfinding myself thus cut off by my own promise from even the remotestcommunication with her on this forbidden subject was genuine andsincere.

  But the father! What was I to think of the father? Alas! I could havebut one thought, admirable as he appeared in all lights save the one inwhich his too evident connection with this crime had placed him. I spentthe hours of the afternoon in alternately watching the sleeping faceof my patient, too sweetly calm in its repose, or so it seemed, for themind beneath to harbor such doubts as were shown in the warning I hadascribed to her, and vain efforts to explain by any other hypothesisthan that of guilt, the extraordinary evidence which linked this man ofgreat affairs and the loftiest repute to a crime involving both theftand murder.

  Nor did the struggle end that night. It was renewed with still greaterpositiveness the next day, as I witnessed the glances which from time totime passed between this father and daughter,--glances full of doubt andquestion on both sides, but not exactly such doubt or such question asmy suspicions called for. Or so I thought, and spent another day or twohesitating very much over my duty, when, coming unexpectedly uponMr. Grey one evening, I felt all my doubts revive in view of theextraordinary expression of dread--I might with still greater truthsay fear--which informed his features and made them, to my unaccustomedeyes, almost unrecognizable.

  He was sitting at his desk in reverie over some papers which he seemednot to have touched for hours, and when, at some movement I made, hestarted up and met my eye, I could swear that his cheek was pale, thefirm carriage of his body shaken, and the whole man a victim to somestrong and secret apprehension he vainly sought to hide, when Iventured to tell him what I wanted, he made an effort and pulled himselftogether, but I had seen him with his mask off, and his usually calmvisage and self-possessed mien could not again d
eceive me.

  My duties kept me mainly at Miss Grey's bedside, but I had been providedwith a little room across the hall, and to this room I retired very soonafter this, for rest and a necessary understanding with myself.

  For, in spite of this experience and my now settled convictions,my purpose required whetting. The indescribable charm, the extremerefinement and nobility of manner observable in both Mr. Grey andhis daughter were producing their effect. I felt guilty; constrained.whatever my convictions, the impetus to act was leaving me. How couldI recover it? By thinking of Anson Durand and his present disgracefulposition.

  Anson Durand! Oh, how the feeling surged up in my breast as that nameslipped from my lips on crossing the threshold of my little room! AnsonDurand, whom I believed innocent, whom I loved, but whom I was betrayingwith every moment of hesitation in which I allowed myself to indulge!what if the Honorable Mr. Grey is an eminent statesman, a dignified,scholarly, and to all appearance, high-minded man? what if my patient issweet, dove-eyed and affectionate? Had not Anson qualities as excellentin their way, rights as certain, and a hold upon myself superior to anyclaims which another might advance? Drawing a much-crumpled little notefrom my pocket, I eagerly read it. It was the only one I had of hiswriting, the only letter he had ever written me. I had already re-readit a hundred times, but as I once more repeated to myself its well-knownlines, I felt my heart grow strong and fixed in the determination whichhad brought me into this family.

  Restoring the letter to its place, I opened my gripsack and from itsinmost recesses drew forth an object which I had no sooner in hand thana natural sense of disquietude led me to glance apprehensively, first atthe door, then at the window, though I had locked the one and shaded theother. It seemed as if some other eye besides my own must be gazing atwhat I held so gingerly in hand; that the walls were watching me, ifnothing else, and the sensation this produced was so exactly like thatof guilt (or what I imagined to be guilt), that I was forced to repeatonce more to myself that it was not a good man's overthrow I sought, oreven a bad man's immunity from punishment, but the truth, the absolutetruth. No shame could equal that which I should feel if, by anyover-delicacy now, I failed to save the man who trusted me.

  The article which I held--have you guessed it?--was the stiletto withwhich Mrs. Fairbrother had been killed. It had been intrusted to me bythe police for a definite purpose. The time for testing that purposehad come, or so nearly come, that I felt I must be thinking about thenecessary ways and means.

  Unwinding the folds of tissue paper in which the stiletto was wrapped,I scrutinized the weapon very carefully. Hitherto, I had seen onlypictures of it, now, I had the article itself in my hand. It was nota natural one for a young woman to hold, a woman whose taste ran moretoward healing than inflicting wounds, but I forced myself to forget whythe end of its blade was rusty, and looked mainly at the devices whichornamented the handle. I had not been mistaken in them. They belonged tothe house of Grey, and to none other. It was a legitimate inquiry Ihad undertaken. However the matter ended, I should always have thesehistoric devices for my excuse.

  My plan was to lay this dagger on Mr. Grey's desk at a moment whenhe would be sure to see it and I to see him. If he betrayed a guiltyknowledge of this fatal steel; if, unconscious of my presence, he showedsurprise and apprehension,--then we should know how to proceed; justicewould be loosed from constraint and the police feel at liberty toapproach him. It was a delicate task, this. I realized how delicate,when I had thrust the stiletto out of sight under my nurse's apron andstarted to cross the hall. Should I find the library clear? Would theopportunity be given me to approach his desk, or should I have to carrythis guilty witness of a world-famous crime on into Miss Grey's room,and with its unholy outline pressing a semblance of itself upon mybreast, sit at that innocent pillow, meet those innocent eyes, andanswer the gentle inquiries which now and then fell from the sweetestlips I have ever seen smile into the face of a lonely, preoccupiedstranger?

  The arrangement of the rooms was such as made it necessary for me topass through this sitting-room in order to reach my patient's bedroom.

  With careful tread, so timed as not to appear stealthy, I accordinglyadvanced and pushed open the door. The room was empty. Mr. Grey wasstill with his daughter and I could cross the floor without fear. Butnever had I entered upon a task requiring more courage or one moreobnoxious to my natural instincts. I hated each step I took, but I lovedthe man for whom I took those steps, and moved resolutely on. Only, as Ireached the chair in which Mr. Grey was accustomed to sit, I found thatit was easier to plan an action than to carry it out. Home life and thedomestic virtues had always appealed to me more than a man's greatness.The position which this man held in his own country, his usefulnessthere, even his prestige as statesman and scholar, were facts, but verydreamy facts, to me, while his feelings as a father, the place heheld in his daughter's heart--these were real to me, these I couldunderstand; and it was of these and not of his place as a man, that thishis favorite seat spoke to me. How often had I beheld him sit by thehour with his eye on the door behind which his one darling lay ill! Evennow, it was easy for me to recall his face as I had sometimes caught aglimpse of it through the crack of the suddenly opened door, and I feltmy breast heave and my hand falter as I drew forth the stiletto andmoved to place it where his eye would fall upon it on his leaving hisdaughter's bedside.

  But my hand returned quickly to my breast and fell hack again empty. Apile of letters lay before me on the open lid of the desk. The top onewas addressed to me with the word "Important" written in the corner. Idid not know the writing, but I felt that I should open and read thisletter before committing myself or those who stood back of me to thisdesperate undertaking.

  Glancing behind me and seeing that the door into Miss Grey's room wasajar, I caught up this letter and rushed with it back into my own room.As I surmised, it was from the inspector, and as I read it I realizedthat I had received it not one moment too soon. In language purposelynon-committal, but of a meaning not to be mistaken, it advised methat some unforeseen facts had come to light which altered all formersuspicions and made the little surprise I had planned no longernecessary.

  There was no allusion to Mr. Durand but the final sentence ran:

  "Drop all care and give your undivided attention to your patient."