CHAPTER XXXIII
When Rush arrived at the sitting-room of the jail's private suite hefound Mrs. Balfame, not in tears as he had nervously anticipated, butdistraught, pacing the room, her hands in her disordered hair.
"I am done for! done for!" she cried as Rush hastily closed the door."It would have been better if I had told the truth in thebeginning--that I _had_ gone out that night. It was not such a badexcuse,--that I thought I saw a burglar down there,--and it was God'struth. Or I could have said I was walking about the grounds because Ihad a headache--"
"It never would have gone down. If I could have discovered who the otherperson in the grove was--found him and his forty-one-calibre revolver,well and good. Failing that, our line of defence is the best possible. Iwill admit, though," he too was pacing the room,--"it looks bad to-day,pretty bad. There isn't the ghost of a chance to prove Mott was the man.Gore has the time to the minute he left Susie Lacke's; you must havegone out some time before--"
"Oh, he didn't do it. I've not thought it for a moment. No such luck. Itwas some enemy who went straight to New York--in that car. ButI--I--Auburn--the electric chair--they all believed--Oh, my God! God!"
She had tossed her arms above her head then flung herself down beforethe table, her face upon them, rocking her body back and forth. Hervoice was deep with horror and despair, her abandonment far morecomplete than on the day of her arrest; and wrought up himself, Rush wasstirred with the echo of all he had felt that day. In the semi-intimacyof these past ten weeks, when he had talked with her for hours at atime, she had disillusioned him in many ways, bored him, forced him toadmit that her lovely shell concealed an uninteresting mind, and thatthe only depths in her personality that he was permitted to glimpse weresuch as to make him shrink, by no means to excite that fascination evenin repulsion peculiar to the faults of a more passionate nature. Hestill thought her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, however,and if it was beauty which now left him cold, his admiration of her hadbeen renewed these last three days when her manner and appearance incourt had been beyond all praise. He had excoriated himself for hisfickleness, his contemptible failure as a lover; and the more he hatedhimself the more grimly determined he was to behave precisely as if hestill loved and revered her as he had when ready to sacrifice lifeitself for her sake. He was in such an _impasse_ that he cared littlewhat became of himself.
He leaned over the table and pressed his hands hard on her arms.
"Listen!" he said peremptorily. "You never will go to Auburn. You willleave this jail not later than the middle of next week, a free woman. IfI cannot get you off by my address to the jury,--and it will be thesupreme effort of my life,--I'll take the stand and swear that Icommitted the murder myself."
"What?" She lifted her head and stared up at him. His face was set, buthis eyes glowed like blue coals.
"Yes. I can put it over, all right. You remember I went to your housefrom the Club that day. Nobody saw me go; no one saw me leave. From themoment I left you, until the following morning, no one--no one that Iknow of--saw me that night, except Dr. Anna. We met out on the roadleading to Houston's farm, and she drove me in. She believes I did it.So does Cummack, and if necessary he will manage to get an affidavitfrom her--"
Mrs. Balfame had sprung to her feet. "Did you do it? Did you?"
"Aha! I can make even you believe it. No, I did not, but I couldn'tprove an alibi if my life depended upon it. I can make the Judge and thejury believe--"
"And do you think I would permit--"
"They will believe me. And Dr. Anna--who would doubt her testimony thatmy appearance and conduct were highly suspicious that night on the marshroad? And what could you disprove? There was a man in that grove, wasthere not?"
"Yes, but not you; I don't know why, but I could swear to that. Ishall--if you do anything so mad--tell the whole truth about myself."
"What good would that do? Balfame was killed with a forty-one revolver.Yours was a thirty-eight."
"How do you know that?"
"I found it the night I spent in your house--the night of your arrest. Iknew that you never would have gone out to head off a burglar without arevolver--any more than the jury would have believed it. I found thepistol. Never mind the long and many details of the search. It is in mysafe. I kept it on the off chance that it might be necessary to produceit after all."
"But I fired at him. I hardly knew that I was firing, until I felt therevolver in my hand go off. Perhaps it was a suggestion from that tensefigure so close to me, intent upon murder. Perhaps I merely felt Imust--must--I have never been able to analyse what I did feel in thoseterrible seconds. It doesn't matter. I did. And you? You know I firedwith intent to kill. Did you guess at once?"
"Oh, yes. But it doesn't matter. You were not yourself, of course. Youhad what is called an inhibition--as maddened people have when fightingtheir way out of a burning theatre. I only wish you had told me. I--thatis to say, it is never fair to keep your counsel in the dark."
"You mean you wish I had not lied!" She caught him up with swiftintuition. "Well, to-day I would not, but then--well, I was full ofpettiness, it seems to me now. But although I am far even yet from beinga fine woman,--I know that!--I am not a poor enough creature to let youdie for me. Oh, you are far too good for me. I never dreamed that a manwould go as far as that for a woman in these days. I thought it was onlyin books--"
"The veriest trash is inspired by the actual occurrences of life--whichis pretty much the same in books as out. And I guess men haven't changedmuch since the world began, so far as making fools of themselves about awoman is concerned."
As she stood with one hand pressed hard against the table she was farmore deeply moved than a few moments since by fear, although outwardlycalm. She had climbed far out of her old self within these prison walls,but she saw steeper heights before her, and she welcomed them.
"Then," she said deliberately, "I must cure you. Before I went out, Ihad prepared that glass of lemonade and put poison in it. I had plannedfor several weeks to kill him when a favourable opportunity arrived. Ihad stolen a secret poison from Anna--out of that chimney cupboardCassie described. You see that I am a potential murderer,--and acold-blooded one,--even if by a curious irony of fate some one elsecommitted the deed. Now do you think I am worth giving up your lifefor--going to the electric chair--"
"Suppose we postpone further argument until the necessity arises--if itever does. I fully expect you to be triumphantly acquitted. Tell me"--helooked at her curiously, for he divined something of her innerrevolutions and hated himself the more that he was interested only asevery good lawyer must be in human nature,--"could you do that in coldblood again?"
"No--not that way--never. I might let a pistol go off under the sameprovocation--that is bad enough."
"Oh, no. Remove the restraints of a lifetime--or perhaps it is merely amatter of vibration and striking the right key."
"And do you mean that--you still want to marry me?"
"Yes," he answered steadily. "Certainly I do."
"Ah!" Once more she wondered if he still loved her. But she had been toosure of him and of herself to harbour doubt for more than a passingmoment. She had come to the conclusion that he had merely taken her ather word, and she knew the specialising instinct of the busy American.She had, indeed, wondered if it were not the strongest instinct hepossessed. And in spite of her new humility, she had suffered no loss ofconfidence in herself as a woman. She vaguely felt that she had lostsomething of this man's esteem, but trusted to time and her own charm todim the impression. For she had made up her mind to marry him. Not onlywould it be the wisest possible move after acquittal,--a decent timeafter,--but during sleepless hours she had come to the conclusion thatshe loved this brilliant knightly young man as deeply as it was in herpower to love any one. And after this terrible experience and the manychanges it had wrought within her, she wanted to be happy.
He had taken up his hat. She crossed the room swiftly and laid her handon his arm. "I could no
t stand one word of love-making in jail," shesaid, smiling up at him graciously, although her eyes were serious. "Butit is only fair to tell you now that if I am acquitted I will marryyou."
And stabbed with a pang of bitter regret that he felt not the leastimpulse to scout her authority and seize her in his arms, he bent overher hand and kissed it with cold lips, but with an air of completegallantry.
"Thank you," he said, and went out.
Mrs. Balfame: A Novel Page 33