CHAPTER XXXII.
A SILKEN BELT.
Mr. Percy and Miss Arthur were openly engaged now, and were anxiouslywaiting for the recovery of the sick at Oakley, in order to celebratetheir marriage.
The spinster was in a frame of mind to grant almost any favor to herlover to-night. And when at last she, herself, led up to the subjectshe wished to broach, he foresaw an easy victory.
"Oh, Edward," she sighed, with a very dramatic shudder, "you cannotthink how I dread to-morrow's ordeal, the visit to my brother! Supposepoor John were to rave at me,--me, his own sister!"
He took the hand that was quite as large as his own, and caressed itreassuringly. "I don't think there is the slightest danger, Ellen,dear, but I am convinced I must attend you to-morrow. I shall feelbetter to be with you."
"Oh, Edward!" sighed the maiden, enraptured at this declaration oftenderness, "you are so careful of me."
He smiled and still caressed her hand, saying: "Listen, darling,"drawing her nearer to him, "I don't like to have you here; it is not afit place for you. And I find that remarks are being made. This Icannot endure. Besides, I do not think it right for you or me to leaveyour brother so entirely at the mercy of--Mrs. Arthur. Promise me thatyou will consult a physician to-morrow, and as soon as the danger ofcontagion is past, you will go back."
"But I can't bear to leave _you_, Edward."
"And you shall not. I will come to Oakley too."
"You? Oh, how nice! Have they asked you to come?"
"I saw Mrs. Arthur's brother to-day, and we settled that."
"Oh, _did_ you? Then you are good friends again?"
He turned upon her a look of inquiry. "Again?"
"Yes; Cora told me not to speak of Mr. Davlin to you, as you were notgood friends, and it might make you less free to come to the house."
Mr. Percy's eyebrows went up perceptibly. "Mrs. Arthur is verythoughtful; but she was mistaken; our little misunderstanding has notmade us serious enemies."
"Oh, how nice!" rapturously.
"_Very_ nice," dryly. "Now you will be a good girl and go back soon?"
"I don't think Cora will be over anxious to have me come back," shesaid, looking like a meditative cat-bird. "I know she kept that Celinein the house to spite me."
"I can readily understand how she might be jealous of you, dear.Perhaps she fears your influence over your brother. At any rate, yourduty lies there. When it is time to do so, don't consult her oranyone; take possession of your former apartments, and stand by yourbrother in his hour of need."
Miss Arthur promised to comply with her lover's request, and hemanaged at last to escape from her, and seek the repose which hepreferred to such society.
All this time John Arthur was a prisoner in the west wing. He wasattended by the doctor sometimes, by Celine occasionally, and by Henryalmost constantly since the arrival of that sable individual.
Lucian Davlin, having no taste for the work, kept aloof as much aspossible. Himself and Dr. Le Guise, as he called his confederate, hadlabored hard and, with the assistance of old Hagar, had put the roomsin proper condition for the occupancy of a lunatic. And a lunatic JohnArthur certainly was. Once before his removal, and once since, he hadbeen seized with a paroxysm of undeniable insanity.
John Arthur had been, and still was, the dupe of his supposedbrother-in-law and Dr. Le Guise. We have all heard of natures that canbe frightened into sickness, almost into dying; of an imaginarydisease. John Arthur's was one of these. And, with a little aid fromDr. Le Guise, he had been really quite ill.
Henry had been constituted his keeper, a position which he filled withreluctance, and there was a fair prospect that sooner or later hewould break into open mutiny. Although he could not guess at thenature of the game his master was playing, yet he felt assured that itwas something desperate, if not dangerous.
He had promised "his young lady," as he called Madeline, to remain inMr. Davlin's service until she bade him withdraw, and but for thiswould hardly have submitted to remain John Arthur's keeper on anyterms. Henry had a certain pride of his own, and that pride was inrevolt against this new servitude.
He had not met Cora here, and had no idea that she was an inmate ofthe house.
Dr. Le Guise had relieved Henry on the morning of the day that MissArthur ventured, for the first time since her flight, within the wallsof Oakley manor, escorted by Mr. Percy. He had detected some signs offever, although Mr. Arthur declared himself feeling better, andadministered a powder to check it.
Soon the patient began to show signs of increasing restlessness, andby the time Henry appeared to announce that Miss Arthur desired aninterview with Dr. Le Guise, he began to wrangle with his physicianand gave expression to various vagaries.
Consigning his charge to Henry, with the remark that he "must watchhim close, and not let him get hold of anything," Dr. Le Guise hurrieddown to the drawing-room.
The doctor listened to Miss Arthur attentively, while she made knownher desire to return to the manor if the danger of contagion was at anend. Then he replied, hurriedly:
"Quite right; quite admirable. But if you will take my advice, Ishould say, don't come just yet. There will be no danger to you, ingoing to your unfortunate brother for just a few moments--a veryfew--and then going straight out of the house into a purer atmosphere.But to remain here now, to breathe this air just yet--my dear lady, Icould not encourage that; the danger would be too great."
And then he led the way straight in to John Arthur's presence,explaining as they went that the cause of his removal from his ownrooms was to escape the fever impregnations still clinging there.
John Arthur was sitting in the middle of his bed, beating his pillowswildly, and imploring Henry, between shrieks of laughter, to come andkiss him, evidently mistaking him for some blooming damsel. As thedamsel declined to come, the lunatic became furious, and hurled thepillows, and afterwards his night-cap, at him, with blazing eyes andcat-like agility. This done, he began to rock himself to and fro, andshout out the words of some old song to an improvised tune that wasall on one note.
Dr. Le Guise turned to Mr. Percy, whispering: "You see; that's the wayhe goes on, only worse at times."
Mr. Percy turned away. The fair spinster who had been clinging to himin a paroxysm of terror, attempted to faint, but remembering hercomplexion thought better of it and contented herself with being halfled, half carried out, in a "walking swoon." And both she and Mr.Percy felt there was no longer room to doubt the insanity of herbrother.
Having seen them depart, Dr. Le Guise sought out Mr. Davlin. Findinghim in Cora's room, he entered and informed the pair of the desireMiss Arthur had manifested to come back to her brother's roof, and ofhis mode of putting off the evil day of her return.
"Humph!" ejaculated Davlin, "what does it mean? I saw Percy in thevillage this morning, and he told me quite plainly that he desired aninvitation to quarter himself upon us."
"And what did you say?" gasped Cora.
"Told him to come, of course, as soon as it was safe to do so."
"Well!" said Cora, dryly, "I don't think it will be very safe foreither of them to come just at present."
"Oh, well," said the doctor, cheerfully, "we have got seven long daysto settle about that. And if they insist upon coming, and _then catchthe fever_, they mustn't blame me."
And Dr. Le Guise looked as if he had perpetrated a good joke.
John Arthur's insanity was as short-lived as it was violent. He layfor the rest of the day quiet and half stupefied. When night came on,he sank into a heavy slumber.
At twelve o'clock that night, all was quiet in and about the manor.
Cora Arthur was sleeping soundly, dreamlessly, as such women do sleep.In the room adjoining hers, Celine Leroque sat, broad awake andlistening intently. At last, satisfied that her mistress was sleeping,Celine arose and stole softly into the room where she lay.
Softly, softly, she approached the couch, passing through a river ofmoonlight that poured in at the broad wi
ndows. Then she drew from apocket, something wrapped in a handkerchief.
Noiselessly, swiftly, she moved, and then the handkerchief, shakenfree from the something within, was laid upon the face of the sleeper,while the odor of chloroform filled the room.
Nimbly her fingers moved, pulling away the coverings, and then theclothing, from the unconscious body. It is done in a moment. With asmothered exclamation of triumph, she draws away a _silken belt_, andremoving the handkerchief, glides noiselessly from the room.
She steals on to her own room in the west wing. Here she locks thedoor and, striking a light, hurriedly rips the silken band with a tinypenknife, and draws from thence two papers.
One glance suffices. Replacing the papers, she binds the belt abouther own body, and then envelopes herself in a huge water-proof, withswift, nervous fingers.
And now, for the second time, this girl is fleeing away from Oakley.Out into the night that is illuminated now by a faint, faint moon;through the bare, leafless, chilly woods, and down the path thatcrosses the railway track not far from the little station. Once moreshe follows the iron rails; once more she lingers in the shadows,until the train thunders up; the night train for New York. Then shesprings on board.
For the second time, Madeline Payne is fleeing away from Oakley andall that it contains; fleeing cityward to begin, with the morrow, anew task, and a new chapter in her existence.
But no lover is beside her now; for that love is dead in her heart.And no Clarence breathes in her ear a warning, for now it is notneeded. Since that first June flitting, she has learned the world andits wisdom, good and evil.
And the cloud that Hagar saw on that June night, hangs dark above thehouse of Oakley.
Madeline Payne, the Detective's Daughter Page 33