VIII
GILBERTINE SPEAKS
Knowing my darling's innocence, I felt the insult shown her in my heartof hearts, and might in the heat of the moment have been betrayed intoan unwise utterance of my indignation, if at that moment I had notencountered the eye of Mr. Armstrong, fixed on me from the rear hall. Inthe mingled surprise and distress he displayed, I saw that it was notfrom any indiscretion of his that this feeling against her had started.He had not betrayed the trust I had placed in him, yet the murmur hadgone about which virtually ostracized her, and instead of confrontingthe eager looks of friends, she found herself met by averted glances andcoldly turned backs, and soon by an almost empty hall.
She flushed as she realized the effect of her presence and cast me anagonized look, which, without her expectation, perhaps, roused everyinstinct of chivalry within me. Advancing, I met her at the foot of thestairs, and with one quick word seemed to restore her to herself.
"Be patient!" I whispered. "To-morrow they will be all around you again.Perhaps sooner. Go into the conservatory and wait."
She gave me a grateful pressure of the hand, while I bounded up stairs,determined that nothing should stop me from finding Gilbertine andgiving her the letter with which Sinclair had intrusted me.
But this was more easily planned than accomplished. When I had reachedthe third floor (an unaccustomed and strange spot for me to find myselfin) I at first found no one who could tell me to which room Miss Murrayhad retired. Then, when I did come across a stray housemaid and she,with an extraordinary stare, had pointed out the door, I found it quiteimpossible to gain any response from within, though I could hear aquick step moving restlessly to and fro and now and then catch the soundof a smothered sob or low cry. The wretched girl would not heed me,though I told her who I was and that I had a letter from Mr. Sinclair inmy hand. Indeed, she presently became perfectly quiet and let me knockagain and again, till the situation became ridiculous and I felt obligedto draw off.
Not that I thought of yielding. No, I would stay there till her ownfancy drove her to open the door, or till Mr. Armstrong should come upand force it. A woman upon whom so many interests depended would not beallowed to remain shut up the whole morning. Her position as a possiblebride forbade it. Guilty or innocent, she must show herself before long.As if in answer to my expectation, a figure appeared at this very momentat the other end of the hall. It was Dutton, the butler, and in his handhe held a telegram. He seemed astonished to see me there, but passed mewith a simple bow and stopped before the door I had so unavailinglyassailed a few minutes before.
"A telegram, miss," he shouted, as no answer was made to his knock. "Mr.Armstrong asked me to bring it to you. It is from the bishop and callsfor an immediate reply."
There was a stir within, but the door did not open. Meanwhile, I hadsealed and thrust forth the letter I had held concealed in my breastpocket.
"Give her this, too," I signified, and pointed to the crack under thedoor.
He took the letter, laid the telegram on it, and pushed them both in.Then he stood up and eyed the unresponsive panels with the set look of aman who does not easily yield his purpose.
"I will wait for the answer," he shouted through the keyhole, andfalling back he took up his stand against the opposite wall.
I could not keep him company there. Withdrawing into a big dormerwindow, I waited with beating heart to see if her door would open.Apparently not, yet as I still lingered, I heard the lock turn, followedby the sound of a measured but hurried step. Dashing from my retreat, Ireached the main hall in time to see Miss Murray disappear toward thestaircase. This was well, and I was about to follow when, to myastonishment, I perceived Dutton standing in the doorway she had justleft, staring down at the floor with a puzzled look.
"She didn't pick up the letters," he cried, in amazement. "She justwalked over them. What shall I do now? It's the strangest thing I eversaw."
"Take them to the little boudoir over the porch," I suggested. "Mr.Sinclair is there and if she is not on her way to join him now shecertainly will be soon."
Without a word Dutton caught up the letters and made for the stairs.
Left to await the result, I found myself so worked upon that I wonderedhow much longer I should find myself able to endure these shifts offeeling and constantly recurring moments of extreme suspense. To escapethe torture of my own thoughts, or, possibly, to get some idea of howDorothy was sustaining an ordeal which was fast destroying my ownself-possession, I prepared to go down stairs. What was my astonishmentin passing the little boudoir on the second floor, to find its door ajarand the place empty. Either the interview between Sinclair andGilbertine had been very much curtailed, or it had not yet taken place.With a heart heavy with forebodings I no longer sought to analyze, Imade my way down and reached the lower step of the great staircase justas a half-dozen girls, rushing from different quarters of the hall,surrounded the heavy form of Mr. Armstrong coming from his own littleroom.
Their questions made a small hubbub. With a good-natured gesture, he putthem all back and, raising his voice, said to the assembled crowd:
"It has been decided by Miss Murray that, under the circumstances, itwill be wiser for her to postpone the celebration of her marriage tosome time and place less fraught with mournful suggestions. A telegramhas just been sent to the bishop to that effect, and while we all sufferfrom this disappointment, I am sure there is no one here who will notsee the propriety of her decision."
As he finished, Gilbertine appeared behind him. At the same moment Icaught, or thought I did, the flash of Sinclair's eye from the recessesof the room beyond; but I could not stop to make sure of this, forGilbertine's look and manner were such as to draw my full attention, andit was with a mixture of almost inexplicable emotions that I saw herthread her way among her friends, in a state of high feeling which madeher blind to their outstretched hands and deaf to the murmur of interestand sympathy which instinctively followed her. She was making for thestairs, and whatever her thoughts, whatever the state of her mind, shemoved superbly, in her pale, yet seemingly radiant abstraction. Iwatched her, fascinated, yet when she left the last group and began tocross the small square of carpet which alone separated us, I steppeddown and aside, feeling that to meet her eye just then without knowingwhat had passed between her and Sinclair would be cruel to her andwell-nigh unbearable to myself.
She saw the movement and seemed to hesitate an instant, then she turnedfor one brief instant in my direction, and I saw her smile. Great God!it was the smile of innocence. Fleeting as it was, the pride that was init, the sweet assertion and the joy were unmistakable. I felt likespringing to Sinclair's side in the gladness of my relief, but there wasno time; another door had opened down the hall, another person hadstepped upon the scene, and Miss Murray, as well as myself, recognizedby the hush which at once fell upon every one present that something ofstill more startling import awaited us.
"Mr. Armstrong and ladies!" said this stranger (I knew he was a strangerby the studied formality of the former's bow). "I have made a fewinquiries since I came here a short time ago, and I find that there isone young lady in the house who ought to be able to tell me better thanany one else under what circumstances Mrs. Lansing breathed her last. Iallude to her niece, who slept in the adjoining room. Is that young ladyhere? Her name, if I remember rightly, is Camerden--Miss DorothyCamerden."
A movement as of denial passed from group to group down the hall, and,while no one glanced toward the library and some did glance up stairs, Ifelt the dart of sudden fear--or was it hope--that Dorothy, hearing hername called, would leave the conservatory and proudly confront thespeaker in face of this whole suspicious throng. But no Dorothyappeared. On the contrary, it was Gilbertine who turned, and with an airof authority for which no one was prepared, asked in tones vibratingwith feeling:
"Has this gentleman the official right to question who was and who wasnot with my aunt when she died?"
Mr. Armstrong, who showed his surprise as ingenu
ously as he did everyother emotion, glanced up at the light figure hovering over them fromthe staircase and made out to answer:
"This gentleman has every right, Miss Murray. He is the coroner of thetown, accustomed to inquire into all cases of sudden death."
"Then," she vehemently rejoined, her pale cheeks breaking out into ascarlet flush, above which her eyes shone with an almost unearthlybrilliancy, "do not summon Dorothy Camerden. She is not the witness youwant. I am. I am the one who uttered that scream; I am the one who sawour aunt die. Dorothy can not tell you what took place in her room andat her bedside, for Dorothy was not there; but _I_ can."
Amazed, not as others were, at the assertion itself, but at the mannerand publicity of the utterance, I contemplated this surprising girl inever-increasing wonder. Always beautiful, always spirited and proud, shelooked at that moment as if nothing in the shape of fear, or evencontumely, could touch her. She faced the astonishment of her bestfriends with absolute fearlessness, and before the general murmur couldbreak into words, added:
"I feel it my duty to speak thus publicly, because, by keeping silent solong, I have allowed a false impression to go about. Stunned withterror, I found it impossible to speak during that first shock. Besides,I was in a measure to blame for the catastrophe itself and lackedcourage to own it. It was I who took the little crystal flask into myaunt's room. I had been fascinated by it from the first, fascinatedenough to long to see it closer and to hold it in my hand. But I wasashamed of this fascination, ashamed, I mean, to have any one know thatI could be moved by such a childish impulse; so, instead of taking thebox itself, which might easily be missed, I simply abstracted the tinyvial. It strikes me now as a very strange thing for me to do, but thenit seemed a natural enough impulse; and it was with a feeling of decidedsatisfaction I carried this coveted object about with me till I got tomy room. Then, when the house was quiet and my room-mate asleep, I tookit out and looked at it, and feeling an irresistible desire to share myamusement with my cousin, I stole to her room by means of the connectingbalcony, just as I had done many times before when our aunt was in bedand asleep. But unlike any previous occasion, I found the room empty.Dorothy was not there; but as the light was burning high I knew shewould soon be back and so ventured to step in. Instantly, I heard myaunt's voice. She was awake and wanted something. She had evidentlycalled before, for her voice was sharp with impatience, and she usedsome very harsh words. When she heard me in Dorothy's room, she shoutedagain, and, as I have always been accustomed to obey her commands, Ihastened to her side, with the little vial concealed in my hand. As shehad expected to see Dorothy and not me, she rose up in unreasoninganger, asking where my cousin was and why I was not in bed. I attemptedto answer her, but she would not listen to me and bade me turn up thegas, which I did. Then with her eyes fixed on mine as though she knew Iwas trying to conceal something from her, she commanded me to rearrangeher hair and make her more comfortable. This I could not do with thetiny flask still in my hand, so with a quick movement, which I hopedwould pass unobserved, I slid it behind some bottles standing on a tableby the bedside, and bent to do what she required. But to attempt toescape her eye was useless. She had seen my action and at once began tofeel about for what I had attempted to hide from her. Coming in contactwith the tiny flask, she seized it, and with a smile I shall neverforget held it up between us. 'What's this?' she cried, showing suchastonishment at its minuteness and perfection of shape that it wasimmediately apparent she had heard nothing of the amethyst box displayedby Mr. Sinclair in the library. 'I never saw a bottle as small as thisbefore. What is in it and why were you so afraid of my seeing it?' Asshe spoke, she attempted to wrench out the stopper. It stuck, so I wasin hopes she would fail in the effort, but she was a woman of uncommonstrength and presently it yielded and I saw the vial open in her hand.
"Aghast with terror, I caught at the table beside me, fearing to dropbefore her eyes. Instantly, her look of curiosity changed to one ofsuspicion, and repeating, 'What's in it? What's in it?' she raised theflask to her nostrils, and when she found she could make out nothingfrom the smell, lowered it to her lips, with the intention, I suppose,of determining its contents by tasting them. As I caught sight of thisfatal action, and beheld the one drop, which Mr. Sinclair had said wasenough to kill a man, slip from its hiding-place of centuries into heropen throat, I felt as if the poison had entered my own veins; I couldneither speak nor move. But when, an instant later, I met the look whichspread suddenly over her face--a look of horror and hatred, accusinghorror and unspeakable hatred mingled with what I dimly felt must meandeath--an agonized cry burst from my lips, after which, panicstricken, Iflew as if for life, back by the way I had come, to my own room. Thiswas a great mistake. I should have remained with my aunt and boldly metthe results of the tragedy which my folly had brought about. But terrorknows no law, and having once yielded to the instinct of concealment, Iknew no other course than to continue to maintain an apparent ignoranceof what had just occurred. With chattering teeth and an awful numbnessat my heart, I tore off my wrapper and slid into bed. Miss Lane had notwakened, but every one else had and the hall was full of people. Thisterrified me still more, and for the moment I felt that I could neverown the truth and bring down upon myself all this wonder and curiosity.So I allowed a wrong impression of the event to go about, for which actof cowardice I now ask the pardon of every one here, as I have alreadyasked that of Mr. Sinclair and of our kind friend, Mr. Armstrong."
She paused, and stood for a moment confronting us all with proud eyesand flaming cheeks, then amid a hubbub which did not seem to affect herin the least, she stepped down, and approaching the man who, she hadbeen told, had a right to her full confidence, she said, loud enough forall who wished to hear her:
"I am ready to give you whatever further information you may require.Shall I step into the drawing-room with you?"
He bowed and as they disappeared from the great hall the hubbub ofvoices became tumultuous.
Naturally I should have joined in the universal expressions of surpriseand the gossip incident to such an unexpected revelation. But I foundmyself averse to any kind of talk. Till I could meet Sinclair's eye anddiscern in it the happy clearing-up of all his doubts, I should not feelfree to be my own ordinary and sociable self again. But Sinclair showedevery evidence of wishing to keep in the background, and while this wasnatural enough, so far as people in general were concerned, I thought itodd and very unlike him not to give me an opportunity to express mycongratulations at the turn affairs had taken and the frank attitudeassumed by Gilbertine. I own I felt much disturbed by this neglect, andas the minutes passed and he failed to appear, I found my satisfactionin her explanations dwindle under the consciousness that they hadfailed, in some respects, to account for the situation; and before Iknew it, I was the prey of fresh doubts which I did my best to smother,not only for the sake of Sinclair, but because I was still too muchunder the influence of Gilbertine's imposing personality to wish tobelieve aught but what her burning words conveyed. She must have spokenthe truth, but was it the entire truth? I hated myself for asking thequestion; hated myself for being more critical with her than I had beenwith Dorothy, who certainly had not made her own part in this tragedy asclear as one who loved her could wish. Ah, Dorothy! it was time some onetold her that Gilbertine had openly vindicated her and that she couldnow come forth and face her friends without hesitation and withoutdread. Was she still in the conservatory? Doubtless. But it would bebetter perhaps for me to make sure.
Approaching the place by the small door connecting it with the hall-wayin which I stood, I took a hurried look within, and, seeing no one,stepped boldly down between the palms to the little nook where lovers ofthis quiet spot were accustomed to sit. It was empty, and so was thelibrary beyond. Coming back, I accosted Dutton, whom I foundsuperintending the removal of the potted plants which encumbered thepassages, and asked him if he knew where Miss Camerden was? He answeredwithout hesitation that she had stood in the rear hall a little whilebefore
, listening to Miss Murray; that she had then gone up stairs bythe spiral staircase, leaving word with him that if anybody wanted hershe would be found in the small boudoir over the porch.
I thanked him and was on my way to join her, when Mr. Armstrong calledme. He must have kept me a half-hour in his room, discussing everyaspect of the affair and apologizing for the necessity which he now feltfor bidding farewell to most of his guests, among whom, he was carefulto state, he did not include me. Then, when I thought this topicexhausted, he began to talk about his wife, and what this dreadfuloccurrence was to her and how he despaired of ever reconciling her tothe fact that it had been considered necessary to call in a coroner.Then he spoke of Sinclair, but with some constraint and a more carefulchoice of words, at which, realizing that I was to reap nothing fromthis interview, only suffer strong and continual irritation at a delaywhich was costing me the inestimable privilege of being the first totell Dorothy of her reestablishment in every one's good opinion, Iexerted myself for release and to such good purpose that I presentlyfound myself again in the hall, where the first person I ran against wasSinclair.
He started and so did I at this unexpected encounter. Then we stoodstill, and I stared at him in amazement, for everything about the manwas changed, and--inexplicable fact!--in nothing was this change moremarked than in his attitude toward myself. Yet he tried to be friendlyand meet me on the old footing, and observed as soon as we foundourselves beyond the hearing of others:
"You heard what Gilbertine said. There is no reason for doubting herwords. _I_ do not doubt them and you will show yourself my friendby not doubting them either." Then with some impetuosity and a gleamin his eye quite foreign to its natural expression, he pursued, witha pitiful effort to speak dispassionately: "Our wedding ispostponed--indefinitely. There are reasons why this seemed best to MissMurray. To you, I will say, that postponed nuptials seldom culminate inmarriage. In fact, I have just released Miss Murray from all obligationsto myself."
The stare of utter astonishment I gave him called up a flush, the firstand only one I have ever seen on his face. What was I to say, what couldI say, in response to such a declaration, following so immediately uponhis warm assertion of her innocence? Nothing. With that indefinablechill between us, which had come I knew not how, I felt tongue-tied.
He saw my embarrassment, possibly my emotion, for he smiled somewhatbitterly and put a step or so between us before he remarked:
"Miss Murray has my good wishes. Out of respect to her position I shallshow her a friend's attention while we remain in this house. That is allI have to say, Walter. You and I have held our last conversation on thissubject."
He was gone before I had sufficiently recovered to realize that in thisconversation I had had no part, neither had it contained any explanationof the very facts which had once formed our greatest grounds for doubt,namely, Beaton's dream, the smothered cry uttered behind Sinclair'sshoulder when he first made known the deadly qualities of the littlevial, and lastly, the strange desire acknowledged to by both these youngladies to touch and hold an object calculated rather to repel than toattract the normal feminine heart.
At every previous stage of this ever-shifting drama, my instinct hadbeen to set my wits against the facts, and, if I could, puzzle out themystery. But I felt no such temptation now. My one desire was to act,and that immediately. Dorothy, for all Gilbertine's intimation to thecontrary, held the key to the enigma in her own breast. Otherwise, shewould not have ventured upon that surprising and necessarily unpalatableadvice to Sinclair--an advice he seemed to have followed--not to marryGilbertine Murray at the time proposed. Nothing, short of a secretacquaintanceship with facts unknown as yet to the rest of us, could havenerved her to such an act.
My one hope, then, of understanding the matter lay with her. To seek herat once in the place where I had been told she awaited me seemed theonly course to take. If any real gratitude underlay the look of trustwhich she had given me at the termination of our last interview, shewould reward my confidence in her by unbosoming herself to me.
I was at the door of the boudoir immediately upon forming thisresolution. Finding it ajar, I pushed it softly open, and as softlyentered. To my astonishment, the place was very dark. Not only had theshades been drawn down, but the shutters had been closed, so that it waswith difficulty I detected the slight, black-robed figure which lay,face down, among the cushions of a lounge. She had evidently not heardmy entrance, for she did not move; and, struck by her pathetic attitude,I advanced in a whirl of feeling which made me forget allconventionalities and everything else, in fact, but that I loved her andhad the utmost confidence in her power to make me happy. Laying my handsoftly on her head, I tenderly whispered:
"Look up, dear. Whatever barrier may have intervened between us hasfallen. Look up and hear how I love you."
She thrilled as a woman only thrills when her secret soul is moved, and,rising with a certain grand movement, turned her face upon me, gloriouswith a feeling that not even the dimness of the room could hide.
Why, then, did my brain whirl and my heart collapse?
It was Gilbertine and not Dorothy who stood before me.
The Amethyst Box Page 8
