On the lawn, which was charmingly kept, the whole party now staying in the house were assembled, and, judging from the lively sounds that reached the ear, they were all amusing themselves very well.
The two girls were playing lawn tennis with Chetwynd and Captain Danvers; and Sir Bridgnorth, who had arrived about an hour previously, was conversing with Lady Thicknesse and Mrs. Calverley. It was rather unfortunate that all the ladies should be in mourning, but in spite of the sombre costumes the scene looked gay and pleasant.
Mrs. Calverley had sent her carriage to the station for Lord Courland and Scrope, and no sooner had his lordship alighted than, without waiting for any formal announcement by Norris, he flew to that part of the lawn where Teresa was seated.
She did not wait till he came up, but hastened towards him, and a very lover-like meeting took place. So much ardour as Teresa now displayed seemed scarcely consistent with her character, but either she was passionately in love with Lord Courland, or she feigned to be so.
After exchanging a few words, and we suppose we must add a few kisses, they walked off to another part of the garden, having, apparently, a great deal to say to each other that would not brook an instant's delay.
Lady Thicknesse and Sir Bridgnorth looked after them with a smile.
“Well, and how do you like Ouselcroft?” inquired Teresa.
“I have hardly had time to look around me,” he replied, gazing on her. “At present, I can behold only one object.”
“But I really want to have your opinion. Does the place equal your expectations?”
“It surpasses them.”
“You have seen nothing yet. You ran away from the lawn, which is the prettiest part.”
“We will go back there presently, when we have had a few minutes to ourselves. Too many curious eyes were upon us. When one is desperately in love, as I am, one wants solitude. But you will soon be mine.”
“Not quite so soon as we anticipated. Some little delay, I find, will be unavoidable.”
“I hope not,” said Lord Courland, with a look of disappointment. “I would rather the marriage were expedited than delayed.”
“I am afraid that will be quite impossible,” said Teresa. “I shall have to make some preparatory arrangements.”
“I thought the property was entirely in your own hands?” he said.
“So it is,” she replied. “And there is really nothing to prevent the marriage from taking place immediately.”
“Then yield to my impatience, I beseech you!”
“I have consulted my lawyer, and he advises a little delay.”
“Lawyers always are tedious. They have no consideration for one's feelings. Even when nothing has to be done but draw up a settlement, they will make a long job of it. I fancied all might have been arranged in a few days, signed, sealed, and delivered.”
“Perhaps it may,” said Teresa. “But we are getting quite serious in our discourse. All matters of business must be deferred till to-morrow, when I doubt not they can be satisfactorily arranged.”
“I think if I could say a word to your lawyer, I could make him use more despatch,” said Lord Courland.
“I scarcely think so,” replied Teresa, uneasily. “I have given him all needful instructions. But there is the first bell. We must go and dress for dinner.”
By the time they reached the lawn, the whole party had gone into the house, so they had it to themselves, and remained there for a few minutes.
Lord Courland was positively enchanted with the place, and could scarcely find terms sufficiently strong to express his admiration.
“Then youdolike the house?” cried Teresa.
“It is everything I could desire,” he replied.
“I hope to make it yours ere long,” she said. “But you must not be too impatient.”
“I am eager to possess you, sweetheart—not the house,” he rejoined.
“Ah! if I thought so!” sighed Teresa. “But I know better.”
They then passed through one of the drawing-room windows, and were met by Norris, who conducted Lord Courland to his room.
Never before bad a dinner so perfect been served at Ouselcroft. But, in the opinion of the distinguishedchef, sufficient justice was not done to it. He was very particular in his inquiries of Norris and Higgins, both of whom were in attendance, and discovered that some of his best dishes had been neglected by the guest for whom he had specially prepared them.
This was very vexatious, but Zephyrus endeavoured to console himself by reflecting that Lord Courland was in love, and about to be married, either of which misfortunes, as he termed them, was sufficient to account for his lordship's want of appetite.
However, the repast was not wasted, but appeared again in the servants' hall, where quite as large a party sat down to it as had done in the dining-room; and it would seem they were far better judges, since the veryrecherchédishes that were previously neglected were now completely devoured.
As it happened to be a lovely moonlight night, and very warm, Mrs. Calverley took out the whole of the guests upon the lawn, and they had not been there long when Captain Danvers suggested a dance.
With the drawing-room windows left wide open, it was found that the piano sounded quite loud enough; Lady Thicknesse, who was a very good musician, immediately sat down and played a waltz.
Lord Courland and Teresa, with two other couples, were soon footing it lightly on the smooth turf, and a very agreeable impromptu little dance was got up.
But this was not all. At the instance of Lord Courland, a servants' dance was got up at the farther end of the lawn, near the two cedars of Lebanon already described.
Notice of the proposed dance was given by Norris, at the very moment when the party in the servants' hall had finished supper.
Nothing could have been more agreeable to Tom Tankard and Zephyrus than the suggestion. They had heard that dancing was going on in the garden, and if they could not join it, they at least desired to look on; but this proposition completely satisfied them.
The main difficulty seemed in regard to the music; but on inquiry it was found that the footman could play the flute, the coachman the violin, and the groom the banjo, and, provided with those instruments, they proceeded to the lawn. When the band struck up, it was found very efficient, and elicited great applause.
It was decided to commence with a quadrille, and finish with Sir Roger de Coverley.
As may be supposed, Harry Netterville had already secured a partner in Rose, but a contest occurred between Tom Tankard and Zephyrus for the hand of Laura; and the Frenchman proving successful, Tom was obliged to content himself with Clarissa, the rather smart upper housemaid.
Both the portly Mr. Higgins and the still more portly Mr. Tankard took part in the quadrille—the one dancing with the cook, and the other with the second housemaid, Lucy, who was quite as pretty as Clarissa.
Owing to the bright moonlight, the quadrille could be distinctly seen by the party near the house, and afforded them great amusement. Indeed, when Zephyrus danced hiscavalier seul, Lord Courland and Teresa came forward to witness the performance. Tom Tankard was likewise stimulated into an extraordinary display by the presence of Mrs. Calverley and the other ladies.
But Sir Roger de Coverley was the real success of the evening. In this cheerful dance, form was set aside. Mrs. Calverley led off with Lord Courland, and danced down the long lines, making Tom Tankard supremely happy by giving him her hand for a moment. She was followed by Emmeline and Chetwynd, after whom came Mildred and Captain Danvers. Sir Bridgnorth induced Lady Thicknesse to walk through a part of the dance with him, but her ladyship retired long before she got to the bottom. The dance seemed interminable, and was not brought to a close till long after the great folks had withdrawn.
Old Norris declared this was the merriest evening he had ever spent at Ouselcroft since Mr. Chetwynd was christened, and he thought the good times were coming again.
Before retiring to her own room, Teresa accompanied Lady Thicknesse to her chamber, and sat with her for five minutes, during which they talked over the events of the evening—her ladyship being of opinion that everything had gone off remarkably well; and that, so far as she could perceive, Lord Courland's affability and good nature had produced a very good effect upon the establishment.
“I think his idea of a servants' dance on the lawn was excellent,” she said, “and I am very glad you allowed it. Higgins told me they were all greatly pleased.”
“It was particularly kind in your ladyship to take part in it,” observed Mrs. Calverley.
“Well, I haven't danced for many a year, but Sir Bridgnorth seemed so anxious, I could not refuse him.”
“I was delighted to see that he had prevailed,” remarked Mrs. Calverley, with a smile. “I think your ladyship will very soon have to consider whether you are inclined to give him your hand altogether. He is certainly very devoted.”
“I have a very great regard for Sir Bridgnorth,” said Lady Thicknesse, “and think him very kind-hearted——”
“And as it seems to me, exactly suited——”
“In some respects, perhaps he is,” said Lady Thicknesse. “At all events, I don't dislike him.”
“And Charlton is really a very fine place,” remarked Teresa:
“So I'm told,” said Lady Thicknesse. “By-the-bye, I didn't expect to find Sir Bridgnorth here.”
“I owe the pleasure of his company entirely to your ladyship,” said Mrs. Calverley. “Had he not expected to meet you, I am certain he would not have come.”
“You flatter me!” said her ladyship, evidently pleased.
“When I beheld you together on the lawn this evening,” pursued Mrs. Calverley, “and especially when I saw you together in the dance, I was rejoiced that the meeting had taken place, as I knew how it must end. And now, good night, and pleasant dreams!”
Teresa entered her own room in a very lively mood, and continued so as long as Laura stayed with her, and diverted her with her chat.
The lady's-maid had nothing but what was satisfactory to say of Lord Courland. He had produced a most agreeable impression upon the household, and his good-natured deportment in the dance had carried all the suffrages in his favour.
“Even old Norris is pleased with him,” said Laura; “and if to-morrow goes off as well as to-day, everybody will be enthusiastic. Do you think we shall have another dance, ma'am? Monsieur Zephyrus is so anxious to try the polka with me! I said I'd ask you.”
“We shall see,” replied Mrs. Calverley. “I can't make any promises. I hope you're not falling in love with Zephyrus, Laura? I thought he seemed very attentive to you!”
“There was nothing particular about him, I assure you, ma'am,” replied Laura. “It's his way!”
“But you seemed to encourage him.”
“Well, there's no choice between him and Tom Tankard, and I can't bear that forward young man. Would you believe it, ma'am, the vain little fool flatters himself you are struck by his appearance?”
“I think him a most ridiculous object,” said Mrs. Calverley. “But now, before you go, I have an order to give you, and I wish particular attention paid to it. Should Mr. Carteret come to-morrow morning, I wish him to be shown at once to my cabinet.”
“It shall be done, ma'am, depend upon it!” replied Laura, who thereupon withdrew.
Until lately, it had not been Teresa's custom to fasten her chamber door. But as soon as Laura was gone, she locked it, and the dressing-room door as well.
She then sought for the phial of poison, and placed it on a small table near her bed. Why she did this, she could scarcely tell. Probably she felt that if an impulse of self-destruction assailed her during the night, she would yield to it, and get rid of the ceaseless mental torture she endured.
Though all had gone well since Lord Courland's arrival, she had been greatly alarmed by some remarks he had made, and had vainly endeavoured to tranquillise herself by thinking that the difficulties and dangers that beset her could be easily overcome.
Now she was left alone, she saw the folly of such reasoning. She felt that her marriage project could only be accomplished by the commission of another crime. Lord Courland had given her several hints that convinced her he would claim the fulfilment of her promise, and how could she fulfil it, if Mildred were not removed?
But the contemplation of this crime awakened such horror in her breast, that sleep fled, and her thoughts drove her almost distracted.
Unable to rest, she arose, wrapped herself in a dressing-gown, and sat down, trying to calm her thoughts. But in vain.
A lamp burning on the table on which the phial was placed, kept that terrible object constantly before her, and seemed to prompt her to have recourse to it.
Being long past midnight, it was to be supposed that all the inmates of the mansion, except herself, were buried in slumber, but the restless woman felt sure she heard footsteps in the gallery outside.
Who could be there at that hour? She was not left long in doubt. A tap was heard at the door, and to her inquiry who was there, a voice answered, “Rose.”
Everything alarmed her now, and even this visit terrified her.
But after a moment's delay, she opened the door, and saw Rose in arobe de chambrebelonging to one of the young ladies, and holding a taper in her hand.
“Pardon me for disturbing you, madam,” she said. “But Miss Calverley has been taken suddenly ill, and is very faint, and Miss Barfleur has sent me to you for somesal-volatile, or some other stimulant, to revive her.”
On hearing this, an infernal idea crossed Teresa.
“Give her three or four drops ofeau de lucefrom this phial,” said Teresa, giving her the poison. “I have just taken that quantity myself, for I have not felt well to-night. Not more than four drops, mind. Be very particular. And when you have given her the dose, bring back the phial to me.”
“Won't you give it to her yourself, ma'am?” said Rose.
“No; I would rather not leave my room,” replied Teresa. “Lose no time.”
“The spirit of darkness has aided me,” cried Teresa, as Rose departed on her terrible errand. “The deed will now be done.”
Though not many minutes elapsed before Rose returned, it seemed a century to Teresa. She could scarcely restrain herself from going to the room occupied by the victim.
At length, Rose reappeared, bringing the phial with her. Teresa received it with trembling fingers.
“Has she taken the drops?” inquired Teresa, in a scarcely articulate voice.
“She has,” replied Rose. “She was very unwilling to take them, but Miss Barfleur and myself persuaded her.”
“You did right,” observed Teresa. “She will be well before morning.”
“I hope so,” said Rose. “But you look very ill yourself, ma'am.”
“Iamill,” replied Teresa. “But don't mind me. Go back to Miss Calverley. I hope I shall now get some sleep.”
As soon as Rose was gone, Teresa again locked the door.
Amid the turmoil of thoughts that agitated her, she preserved a sort of calm that enabled her to go through the business she had to do.
Without a moment's loss of time she unfastened the dressing-box, replaced the bottle of poison, took out another phial resembling it, and really containingeau de luce, and then made all secure again.
This done, she drank a very small portion from the phial, and placed it where the poison had stood. Before seeking her couch she unlocked both her doors, judging it best to manifest no uneasiness.
Did she sleep?
How are we to account for it? She had scarcely laid her head on the pillow, than she fell into a deep, sound slumber, that was not disturbed by a dream, and that lasted till daybreak.
Little did the many guests staying at Ouselcroft imagine what had occurred during the night. They slept on, undisturbed by any idea that a direful deed was being enacted in an adjoining chamber.
Rose's nocturnal visit to Mrs. Calverley was heard by no one; and, since then, all had been tranquil. Was Mildred better? Was she sleeping? At all events, those with her were quiet.
Thus, when the large establishment arose, at an early hour, for they had an unusually busy day before them, no alarm whatever had been given.
No report was brought down-stairs that Miss Calverley had been taken ill during the night; but the housemaids were bustling about, and getting the rooms ready for the guests, who might be expected to make their appearance some two or three hours later.
Rose had promised Harry Netterville overnight that she would meet him in the garden at six o'clock, and they would have a stroll together; but, though the morning was charming, the young damsel did not make her appearance, greatly to Harry's disappointment.
Monsieur Zephyrus was more fortunate. Laura had engaged to meet him at the same early hour, and she was true to her appointment.
She must have been up soon after it was light, for she had evidently spent some time over her toilette. Zephyrus was enraptured by her costume and looks, and paid her many high-flown compliments in French, the import of which she understood. Undoubtedly she looked very captivating.
The amorous pair did not remain long on the lawn, though they met there, but sought a retired walk. They had not, however, proceeded far, when they saw another couple advancing towards them, whom they instantly recognised as Tom Tankard and Clarissa.
Salutations were exchanged in the most approved style, praises bestowed on the beauty of the morning, and on the delightful singing of the birds; and they were about to separate, when Laura thought proper to give Tom a friendly caution.
“If you don't want to meet your father,” she said, “I advise you to keep clear of the lawn. He's there with Mr. Higgins and our old butler, Mr. Norris.”
“Since that's the case, we'll turn back, if you please, Miss Clarissa. My guv'nor's an odd sort of man, and he don't like my paying attention to young ladies.”
Clarissa, who was very good-natured, did not mind which way she went, so Laura suggested they should walk together to the fish-ponds, which were about half a mile distant, and they set off in that direction.
Amongst those who were early astir on that fine morning, and who had come forth into the garden, was Chetwynd.
Of course, he know nothing that had happened during the night; but a strange foreboding of ill oppressed him. He found old Tankard and Higgins on the lawn; and, after a brief converse with them, he was proceeding to the stables, when Norris came up and begged to have a word with him, and they went into the library together.
“I am going to ask you a singular question, sir,” said the old butler; “and I will explain my motive for doing so presently. Do you think this marriage with Mrs. Calverley and Lord Courland will really take place?”
“I believe it will, Norris,” replied Chetwynd. “I see nothing to prevent it. I don't know whether all the preliminary arrangements are settled; but his lordship appears perfectly satisfied. And so he ought to be, if what I hear is true.”
“It will be more advantageous to you than to him,” said Norris.
“I don't understand you,” rejoined Chetwynd, regarding him fixedly.
“When I say advantageous to you, sir, I mean to your sister,” observed the butler. “But it cannot fail to be beneficial to you. You ought to pray that the marriage may take place, instead of opposing it.”
“What the deuce are you driving at, Norris?”
“It appears to me, sir, that you have never read your father's will.”
“You are right; I have not. But I know that the property is left entirely to his wife.”
“Very true, sir—very true. But there is a most important proviso, of which you are evidently ignorant. In the event of the widow marrying again, she forfeits the property, which then goes to the testator's daughter, Mildred.”
“Are you sure of this, Norris?” cried Chetwynd, astounded.
“Quite sure, sir,” replied the old butler. “I have read the will myself, most carefully. As I have already said, the best thing that can happen to you is that your step-mother should marry again. But will she make this sacrifice? I fear not.”
“Can she be aware of the proviso you have mentioned, Norris?”
“Impossible to say,” rejoined the old butler. “I should think so. She has the will in her possession. I. do not see how it can fail to act as a bar to a second marriage, unless she comes to some arrangement with Miss Mildred.”
“That she will never do,” said Chetwynd. “My sister, I am certain, will never surrender her rights to her.”
“Has the matter been broached to Miss Mildred?” inquired Norris.
“Impossible, or I should have heard of it.”
“Then nothing is left Mrs. Calverley but to break off the match, and that is the point from which I started,” said Norris.
“It is incomprehensible she should have allowed the affair to proceed so far,” said Chetwynd. “I am altogether perplexed. But I will have an early interview with my sister this morning, and hear what she has to say. Something must be done forthwith. She cannot give a tacit assent to the arrangement.”
At this moment Rose Hartley appeared at the open window, and Chetwynd called her in.
“I was looking for you, sir,” said Rose, who appeared very anxious. “I came to tell you Miss Calverley is very ill.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Chetwynd, surprised and alarmed.
“She was taken ill in the night with a renewal of the attack she experienced the other day at Brackley, but recovered for a time, and obtained some hours' sleep; but she is worse again this morning.”
“What ails her?” asked Chetwynd.
“I can scarcely describe her illness; but she suffers a great deal of pain. I think she ought to have immediate advice.”
“She shall,” replied Chetwynd. “I should wish to see her myself.”
“Not now, sir; later on.”
“Has Mrs. Calverley seen her?” he asked eagerly.
“No, sir; but she sent her someeau de luceby me.”
“Someeau de luce?”
“Yes, sir. I knocked at her chamber door in the middle of the night, and she gave me a small bottle that was standing by her bedside. Miss Calverley only took a few drops of it.”
“Quite enough, I should think,” muttered Norris.
“Well, don't give her any more at present,” said Chetwynd.
“I haven't got any more to give her,” replied Rose. “I took back the phial.”
“Mark that, sir,” observed Norris.
“Why mark it?” inquired Rose.
“Never mind him,” said Chetwynd. “Go back to my sister at once, and remain with her till Doctor Spencer arrives. Don't give her anything more, and don't let Mrs. Calverley come near her if you can help it.”
“Mind that!” said Norris, emphatically.
Rose looked at him, but made no remark.
“Tell her I have something to say to her, and must see her this morning; but don't make her uneasy,” said Chetwynd. “I suppose Miss Barfleur is with her?”
“Yes, you may be sure she won't leave her, sir,” replied Rose. “Your message shall be delivered to your sister, and your instructions attended to.”
As soon as Rose was gone, Norris could no longer contain himself.
“Here we have it as plain as possible, sir,” he cried. “The sole bar to the marriage is to be removed. Don't you see it, sir? I do, plainly enough. How else should she fall suddenly ill just at this time?”
“Whatever you may think, Norris; and however difficult you may find it to do so, I insist upon it that you hold your tongue,” said Chetwynd, authoritatively. “If you disobey me, you'll ever afterwards lose my favour. Now go and send for Doctor Spencer at once, and leave the rest to me.”
“Don't fear me, sir,” said Norris. “I'll keep silence as long as you enjoin me.”
And he proceeded to the stables, and sent off a mounted groom for Doctor Spencer.
Chetwynd was pacing to and fro on the lawn, occupied with painful and distracting thoughts, and scarcely knowing what course to pursue, when he was joined by Sir Bridgnorth Charlton, who saw he was greatly disturbed, and kindly inquired what was the matter.
Chetwynd found it somewhat difficult to explain, as he did not desire for the present to enter into details; but he mentioned that his sister had been taken ill during the night, and was still rather seriously indisposed. This was quite sufficient to account for his anxious looks.
However, Chetwynd desired to consult his friend; and, therefore, said to him:
“I have a communication to make to you, dear Sir Bridgnorth, which I am convinced will give you great surprise, and very likely induce you to take a totally different view of certain matters now before you. My sister and myself have hitherto been completely in the dark in regard to a very important provision of my father's will.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed the baronet. “I should not have conceived that possible. What is it, pray?”
“From examination of the will, it appears that if Mrs. Calverley marries again, the whole of the property bequeathed her by my father goes to Mildred.”
“Now, indeed, you surprise me!” exclaimed the baronet. “And is it possible this very important proviso has only just been discovered? Such negligence is inconceivable!”
“The proviso cannot, I think, have been known to Mrs. Calverley, or she would not have proceeded so far with her present matrimonial arrangements. But, whether known to her or not, it is the fact. Now comes the important question—does she mean to marry Lord Courland?”
“I have no doubt of it,” replied Sir Bridgnorth. “Unless prevented, she will marry him.”
“Most assuredly, then, she will forfeit her property. Besides, she can make no settlement upon him.”
“Yes; she has property of her own. She can settle that.”
“True; but will that be sufficient?”
“I cannot say,” replied Sir Bridgnorth. “I am not in Lord Courland's confidence.”
“As yet, I don't think his lordship has been let into the secret.”
“Nor is it desirable he should be. He must look after his own affairs. It is not your business to prevent the marriage, but to forward it. If Mrs. Calver-ley does not choose to tell her noble suitor how she is circumstanced, that is her own concern. She is a very clever woman, and can take care of herself. I should not have thought her capable of making such a sacrifice as this for any man. But she seems to be really in love with Lord Courland; or, perhaps, she is resolved at whatever cost to make an important match. At any rate, her scheme must not be thwarted.”
“Not unless it should turn out to be mischievous,” observed Chetwynd.
“It cannot be mischievous to Mildred,” said Sir Bridgnorth. “Lord Courland, probably, will be disappointed when he finds the property pass away from him; but that will be the worst that can happen. And if his lordship is a loser, Charles Danvers will be an immense gainer. How oddly things turn out! After all, Charles may become master of Ouselcroft, in right of his wife. Ah! here he comes!” he added, as the captain made his appearance. “I wish I could tell him what a brilliant prospect he has before him; but I musn't.”
“Well; are you laying out your plans for the day?” said Captain Danvers, as he came up.
“No; we were talking about you,” replied Sir Bridgnorth. “I was wishing you might be able to reside here.”
“Ah, that's out of the question now!” rejoined the captain. “It's a charming place, but I fancy both Chetwynd and myself shall soon be shut out of it. Lord Courland is certain to make a great change, and bring in a new set. If I had been master here, my aim would have been to keep my old friends about me. Chetwynd should always have had his room, and old Norris should have remained in his place.”
“I'm glad to hear you say so,” remarked Sir Bridgnorth. “I'm certain Mr. Calverley never meant his property to be disposed of in this fashion. It's a great pity half didn't go to Mildred.”
“Ay; it ought to have been divided between Chetwynd and his sister. That would have been the right thing to do. Now, Mildred is not even to marry except With her step-mother's consent.”
“You need have no uneasiness on that score,” remarked Chetwynd. “Mildred will have her marriage portion, and something besides.”
“You think so?” said Captain Danvers.
“I'll answer for it,” rejoined Chetwynd.
“And if you require an additional guarantee, I'm ready to give it,” said Sir Bridgnorth. “But mind! should you ever come to be master here, I shall hold you to your promise to make us all at home.”
“You shan't need to remind me of it, should that fortunate day ever arrive,” said the captain.
At that moment, the person who seemed to stand most in the captain's way came forth, and wished them “Good morning.”
They all fancied he assumed a little of the air of the master of the house.
“I must consult you on a little matter after breakfast, Sir Bridgnorth,” he said. “I know you are a man of great taste. It strikes me some alterations might be made in the garden.”
“I hope your lordship won't touch the lawn,” remarked Sir Bridgnorth. “It is very much admired.”
“The lawn itself is charming,” said Lord Courland; “but I don't like those two sombre cedars.”
“They were my father's especial favourites,” observed Chetwynd. “I hope your lordship will spare them.”
“I should consider it a sacrilege to remove them,” said Sir Bridgnorth.
“I don't carry my veneration for trees quite so far,” rejoined Lord Courland; “and, as I have no particular associations connected with the two cedars, I shall merely consider whether my lawn cannot be improved.”
“Mylawn!” whispered Chetwynd to Captain Danvers. “He is master here already.”
“I will get you to walk round with me presently, Sir Bridgnorth,” said Lord Courland, “and favour me with your opinion on the general arrangements.”
“If I may venture to give your lordship my opinion, without walking round,” replied Sir Bridgnorth, “I would strongly advise you to let the gardens and grounds alone. It is allowed to be one of the prettiest places in the country, and I should be sorry if it was destroyed.”
“But I don't mean to destroy the place; I desire to improve it.”
“Such improvements as your lordship contemplates, I fear would destroy its character,” said Sir Bridgnorth; “and that is what I should regret.”
Just then the breakfast bell put an end to the discourse, and attracted the party to the house.
Lady Thicknesse and Scrope Danvers were in the breakfast-room when the others came in, and her ladyship said to them, “I am very sorry Mrs. Calverley will not be able to make her appearance at breakfast, this morning.”
“I hope she is not unwell,” remarked Lord Courland.
“She is not very well,” replied her ladyship. “But she wishes to confer with Doctor Spencer. He has been sent for to attend Miss Calverley, who has been taken ill during the night.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed Captain Danvers, anxiously. “She seemed quite well, and in excellent spirits last evening.”
“Perhaps she took cold,” observed Lady Thicknesse. “I fear we remained out rather too late. Only think of my dancing Sir Roger de Coverley in the open air! If I had been laid up, like Mildred, you would have been to blame,” she added, to Sir Bridgnorth.
“But your ladyship is looking better than ever,” he rejoined gallantly. “You ought therefore to thank me.”
“Well, I don't think I'm the worse for it, and I certainly enjoyed the dance very much.”
Breakfast was then served and Lady Thicknesse presided at the table.
She took care to have Sir Bridgnorth beside her, and they seemed the most cheerful persons present, for the absence of the three other ladies cast a gloom over the rest of the party.
Meanwhile Doctor Spencer was with Mrs. Calverley in her dressing-room, she having given orders that he should be brought there immediately on his arrival.
An elderly man, with white hair, jetty eyebrows and black eyes. The expression of his countenance was kindly and composed, his accents agreeable, and his manner singularly pleasing. All his patients liked him.
Mrs. Calverley had been a great favourite with the doctor, and he had hitherto had a very high opinion of her, founded not only upon his own notion of her character, but on the praises bestowed upon her by her late husband.
She thought his manner less cordial than it used to be, but she was so troubled she could scarcely judge.
“I am very sorry Miss Calverley is ill,” he said, taking a seat. “What is the matter with her?”
“I can't exactly tell,” she rejoined. “I have not yet seen her this morning. We were all dancing on the lawn rather late last evening, and she may have taken cold.”
“Dancing on the lawn!” exclaimed Doctor Spencer shaking his head. “That was imprudent. Mildred is delicate. She has got a chill, I suppose?”
“I can't tell. Her maid came to me in the middle of the night, and said Miss Calverley felt very sick and ill, so I sent her a restorative. She took a few drops ofeau de luce, as I understood, and I thought she was better, for I heard nothing more till the morning, when I learnt that the sickness was not gone, so I sent for you.”
During this explanation, Doctor Spencer kept his eye fixed on Mrs. Calverley in a manner she did not like.
“This is not a feverish cold, as I thought,” he observed. “But I shall be better able to judge when I see her.”
“Emmeline Barfleur and their maid occupy the same room with her, so she has had plenty of attendance. I should have gone to her if she had been alone.”
At this moment a tap was heard at the door, and Emmeline came in.
She looked very much frightened, and said, hastily:
“Pray come and see Miss Calverley at once, Doctor Spencer! She has just fainted!”
Doctor Spencer instantly prepared to obey.
“Take these restoratives with you,” said Mrs. Calverley, giving him several small bottles; “and come back to me when you have seen her.”
“I will,” replied the doctor, as he followed Emmeline.
Some little time elapsed before Doctor Spencer appeared again.
To the guilty woman, who awaited her sentence, it was an interval of intense anxiety; but she endeavoured to maintain her calmness, fearing to betray herself.
Thinking she ought to be employed, she sat down to write a letter, but had not got very far with it when Doctor Spencer came into the room.
Closing the door after him, he fixed a strange and searching glance upon her, and so terrified her by his looks that she could not speak, nor did he break the silence.
At length, she gave utterance to these words:
“I am afraid you bring bad news, doctor. Is she seriously ill?”
“She is,” he replied, sternly. “But I think I shall be able to save her.”
“What ails her?” inquired Mrs. Calverley.
“Have you no idea?”
“None whatever,” she replied, looking perplexed.
“Poison has been administered to her!”
“Impossible!” she exclaimed.
“I cannot be deceived!” said Doctor Spencer. “The attempt has been twice made. In each instance the dose was, fortunately, too small to be fatal.”
The slight nervous tremour that agitated Mrs. Calverley was not unnoticed by the doctor.
“This is a terrible accusation to make!” she said.
“But it can be easily substantiated,” he rejoined. “Indeed, it would be difficult to conceal the evidence of the crime!”
“On whom do your suspicions alight, doctor?” asked Mrs. Calverley, as firmly as she could. “On any one in attendance upon her?”
“One of them has been an unconscious instrument,” he replied. “But the hand that really provided the poison was elsewhere.”
After a short pause, he added, in a stern tone:
“Madam, yours is the hand by which the deed has been done!”
“Mine!” she exclaimed, fiercely and defiantly.
“Nay, it is useless to deny it!” he rejoined. “I have but to search this chamber to find proof of your guilt.”
“Search it then!” she cried, in the same defiant tone.
Doctor Spencer glanced around, and his eye quickly alighted upon the dressing-box.
“Open this box!” he cried, seizing her hand, and drawing her towards it. “Open it, I say!” he reiterated, in a terrible voice. “There the poison is concealed!”
So overpowered was she by his determined manner, that she did not dare to disobey.
Without offering the slightest resistance, she unlocked the box, and disclosed the casket.
He uttered a cry of satisfaction on beholding it.
“Now unlock this!” he said, giving her the casket.
Again she obeyed; but instantly took forth a phial containing the poison, and would have swallowed its contents, had not Doctor Spencer snatched it from her.
“Why do you treat me thus cruelly?” she cried. “Why not let me die?”
“Because I desire to give you a chance of life,” he rejoined. “If your intended victim escapes the fate you designed her, I will not denounce you. If she dies, you know your doom!”
“Do you think she will live?” asked Teresa.
“Her life hangs on a thread. But a few days—perhaps a few hours—will decide. For the present, I will keep your terrible secret, and screen you from suspicion. But only on the condition that you remain here, and abide the result of your dreadful crime. Attempt to fly, and I will instantly check you. Now you know my fixed determination.”
“And you will remain in constant attendance on Mildred?” she asked.
“I shall,” he replied. “And rest assured I shall do my best to save her.”
With this he left the room, taking the phial with him.