"Miss Madeline Payne!"—page 346."Miss Madeline Payne!"—page 346.
Miss Arthur, who clearly recognized in this lovely young lady the little Madeline of years ago, was so stricken with astonishment that she utterly forgot how appropriate it would be to faint.
Cora sat like one in a nightmare.
Percy was conscious of but one feeling. True to his nature even here, he was staring at this vision of beauty, thinking only, "how lovely! how lovely!"
And Lucian Davlin? At the first sight of that face, the first sound of that voice, he had felt as if turning to stone, incapable of movement or speech. At that moment, had Cora once glanced toward him, his face must have betrayed his secret. But her eyes were fixed on Madeline.
Davlin felt a tempest raging within his bosom. Madeline alive! This glowing, brilliant, richly robed, queenly creature—Madeline! Again in his ears rang her farewell words. Quick as lightning came the thought: she was his enemy, she would denounce him! And yet, throughout every fiber of his being, he felt a thrill of gladness. Again there surged in his heart the mad love that had sprung into being when she had so gloriously defied him. She was not dead, and he was glad!
Old Hagar had closed the door after her young mistress; and now she stood near it, calm and immovable as a block of ice.
Madeline Payne stood, for a moment, gazing laughingly into the amazed face of the spinster. Then she said: "Come, come, Aunt Ellen, don't stare at me as if I were a ghost! Introduce me to your friends. Is this lady my new step-mamma?"
Cora roused herself from her stupor, and said, haughtily: "I amMrs. Arthur, and the mistress of the house!"
"Ah! then youaremy new step-mamma? And you have been very ill, I understand. Pray, don't rise, madame; youlook feeble." Then, turning again to Miss Arthur: "Don't you intend to speak to me, Aunt Ellen?"
"But," gasped the spinster, "I thought, that—you—"
"Oh, I see! You thought that I was dead, and you have been grieving for me. Well, I will explain: I ran away from my respected papa because he had selected for me a husband not at all to my taste. Not desiring to return immediately, I seized an opportunity that came in my way, and bestowed my name upon a poor girl who died in the hospital, thus making sure that my anxious friends would abandon all search for me. However, I have thought better of my decision, and so I return to my own home to take my position under thechaperonageof my pretty step-mamma, as theHeiress of Oakley!"
These last words opened the eyes of Cora to the new "situation." Springing to her feet, she forgot for the moment all her weakness, and cried, wrathfully: "You cannot come here with such a trumped-up story! Madeline Payne is dead and buried. You are a base impostor!"
Madeline turned tranquilly towards the spinster. "Aunt Ellen,amI an impostor?"
"No," said Ellen Arthur, sullenly; "you are Madeline Payne. Any one in the village could testify to that."
Madeline turned to Cora. "Step-mamma, I forgive you. Itishard to find the entailed estate of Oakley slipping out of your hands, no doubt, but this world is full of disappointments."
Cora's eyes sought Lucian. That gentleman, who had, outwardly at least, regained his composure, telegraphed her to be silent.
Miss Payne asked: "Which of these gentlemen is your brother, Mrs. Arthur?"
Lucian stepped forward with his usual grace, saying; "I amMrs. Arthur's brother, Miss Payne. Pray, let me apologize for her discourteous reception of you; she has been very ill, and is nervous."
Madeline sank into a chair and surveyed him coolly, while she said: "It is not necessary to apologize for your sister, Mr.—"
"Davlin," supplied Miss Arthur.
"Davlin," repeated Madeline, as if the name had fallen upon her ears for the first time. "No doubt we shall be the best of friends by and by. I certainly have to thank her for making so marked an improvement in these old rooms," glancing about her.
Here the still confused Miss Arthur, in obedience to a sign from her lover, said: "Miss Madeline, this is my friend, Mr. Percy."
Mr. Percy advanced, bowing like a courtier. The young lady scrutinized him coolly, saying, with a gleam of mischief in her eyes: "I am delighted to meet any friend of my aunt's."
Then she turned to Davlin again: "But where is my step-papa? I have kept myself partially informed of events here. Is he still unable to be about?"
Davlin looked very serious: "Miss Payne, I fear that my unhappy brother-in-law will never recover his reason."
Madeline uttered an exclamation expressive of concern, and said: "Oh, Mr. Davlin, then don't let him know that I am here; at least not yet. I am so afraid of the insane. I couldn't bear to see him now."
Cora drew a breath of relief, on hearing this. But Lucian, who knew the girl better, began to fear her, and mentally resolved to define his own position as speedily as possible. One thing was evident; it was no part of her plan to betray him, at least not yet.
"Nurse," said Madeline, turning to Hagar, "see that a room is prepared for me immediately, and send a servant to the station for my luggage. Also, prepare a room for my maid, who is below, and tell her to get me out a dinner dress immediately."
Then turning to Cora, "Step-mamma, you look fatigued. Do go to your room and rest before dinner. Mr. Davlin, at what hour do you dine?"
He explained their reason for dining so early, and she said, as she turned again to Cora,
"Do lie down, step-mamma; there is still a half-hour before dinner. And now I will go look after my maid."
She swept them all a stately courtesy, and Percy springing forward to open the door, she thanked him with a charming side glance, and passed from the room like a young princess.
There was dead silence among them for a full minute after the door had closed behind her. Then Percy turned with a disagreeable smile upon his face, and said:
"You don't stand in need of something excitingnow, do you,—Mrs. Arthur?"
This was too much. Cora sprang to her feet and casting one meaning glance toward Davlin, swept from the room, erect and firm, utterly regardless of the fact that her exit was quite incompatible with the invalidrôleshe had been sustaining.
An angry flush overspread the face of Lucian Davlin, as he realized, after one quick look at the face of Percy, how thoroughly she had betrayed herself. He was too good a diplomat, however, to quit the field without a stroke in his own behalf. So giving a low whistle he turned toward the spinster, saying:
"See what excitement will do. One would think she had the strength of two of us."
To which Percy responded, dryly: "She certainly did not step like an invalid."
Then the three stood looking aimlessly at each other or anything, seemingly not at all inclined to converse.
After a few moments of listless gazing out at the window, Lucian turned upon his heel and quitted the room. He was too wise to approach Cora in her present mood. Even had he thought it advisable, he felt little inclination to see and converse with her or anyone then. Like a man in a dream, he wandered out and down the wide hall. Almost unconsciously he opened the library door, and crossing to the great double window, leaned against the casement and looked out.
Again his eyes rested upon the grove where he had so often wandered with the lovely girl who, to-day, had so coolly ignored him. Then she had clung to him with trusting affection; now,—how did she look upon him now? Could the love that she surely had felt for him in those Summer days, have entirely died out in her heart? Did not a woman's love outlast her anger? And was he not the same man, with the same will-power, and the same strength of magnetism?
Where had she been all these months? And how came she here now, robed liked a princess; she, who had certainly left her home penniless? Clearly, she had found friends. Who were they? And what did they know of matters here at Oakley?
For once Mr. Davlin was at a loss how to act. Would it be safe to stay? Would it be wise to go? Would he be able to control Cora in this new emergency? One thing was certain: The heiress of Oakley meant to be mistress in her mother's house, and she was in a fair way to possess the throne.
Lucian turned away from the window, and from the scenethat mocked him, muttering: "I will see her alone, let come what will. I will make one struggle to regain my power over her, and if I succeed—"
Evidently the wily gambler could not testify as to what would be likely to follow. For the second time since his partnership with Cora, he found that lady a stumbling-block by no means despicable.
On leaving the drawing-room, Cora rushed up the stairs, and throwing open the door of her dressing-room, fairly precipitated herself across the threshold, forgetting in her blind rage to close the door behind her. She stood still for an instant, and then, springing to the window, threw it wide open, letting in a flood of wintry air. For a moment she leaned across the sill, drinking in deep draughts of the frosty ether. Then dashing down the sash, she turned swiftly, and encountered a pair of bright black eyes that looked in at her from the secure darkness of the hall. Sweeping across the room, she confronted the owner of the eyes, demanding haughtily:
"Who are you? And how dare you spy at my door?"
The woman—for it was a woman—came forward and said, respectfully: "If you please, I am Miss Payne's maid, and I was just bringing up some things from the hall, ma'am," lifting to view a chatelaine and shawl strap. "I didn't mean to annoy you. I was only surprised to see such a pretty young lady here."
Miss Payne's maid was a large woman of a very uncertain age, arrayed in sober black, not at all like the usual ladies' maid. But she seemed so very respectful, and full of contrition at having annoyed such a "pretty lady," that Cora made no further assault upon her, but closed the door with unusual emphasis instead, and gave way once more to the wrath that was filling her soul.
To be baffled like this now; now, when her schemes were approaching fruition; now, when this fair domain, this splendid fortune, was just within her grasp, to have it plucked from her hand by a mere girl, who mocked her while she said, "this wealth is mine, this house is mine; woman, you have schemed in vain!"
And this was not all. She had bound herself hand and foot. She had jeopardized her liberty, for what might not occur, now that this girl could demand access to the imprisoned old man, her step-father? If she dared, she would go away that very night. But no; this would only confirm suspicion, if suspicion were entertained.
Not the least drop in her cup of bitterness, was the knowledge that Edward Percy was secretly enjoying her discomfiture. As she thought of him, and his look when she swept past him, Cora stopped short in her angry promenade, and frowned fiercely. Then she crossed to her mirror and surveyed her agitated face, saying, half aloud:
"At least I will rob him of that pleasure; baffled as I may be, he shall never enjoy my discomfiture! I can act a part yet. And Edward Percy shall find that if my schemes are to be overthrown, his, too, may suffer. He rejoices to see me thwarted; I will thwart him, let it cost what it may!"
And Cora began to smooth her rumpled locks, and put her somewhat disarranged toilet in order, with swift, firm fingers. While she was thus occupied, there came a tap upon her door. Recognizing it at once, as Davlin's knock, she said, "come," and never once lifted her eyes from her task.
Lucian, finding that the dinner hour was at hand, and beginning to fear that Cora might still further commit herself, had thought it wisest to come and see what was the state of her feelings,and endeavor to persuade her to play out her part. He entered the room with some apprehension; but seeing her so composed, came close as she stood before her dressing-glass and said, as he gazed down at the flounce she was busy adjusting:
"Now is the time for pluck, Co. You will come down?"
Cora gave a last touch to the silk and lace and then, letting the sweeping train fall from her hand, and standing very erect before him, said:
"Yes, I shall go down. Do you suppose I will let that man think that I am completely annihilated? There; don't talk to me now! I shall not forget myself again, never fear. But after dinner, come to me here. You were wise enough to bring me into this charming 'corner,' now let your wisdom take me out of it, or I will extricate myself in my own way."
Again the iron hand fell upon her shoulder, as her partner in iniquity hissed in her ear:
"And I intend that you shall not be a fool! Our game is not lost. Let me once get the lay of the land, and we may win yet."
She turned her eyes upon him with angry incredulity. "How, pray?"
"Wait and see!"
She made no reply, but, taking up her dainty handkerchief, turned to leave the room, motioning him to precede her. In the hall, she paused at the head of the stairs, saying:
"Go down; I will come directly."
"What are you going to do?"
"Go down," she repeated; "I know what I am doing."
She went slowly down the hall in the direction of the room before which stood Madeline's luggage that had just arrived from the little station.
Lucian gazed after her in some amazement, watched her tap softly, heard the door open, saw her enter the room, and then went slowly down-stairs.
When Cora entered the room, Madeline Payne stood before her mirror, while her maid, kneeling beside her, arranged the folds of lustrous azure silk that fell about the slender form.
The door had been opened by Hagar, who could scarcely keep her eyes off the beautiful face and form of her young mistress, and who was, in consequence, making very slow progress with the work of putting away the garments that had been discarded in favor of the lovely dinner dress.
Madeline realized fully that the part she was now playing was even more difficult and distasteful than that which she had abandoned. But she was resolute. To go back now would be worse than death. While she felt a thrill of repugnance as she saw the fair, sensual face of John Arthur's wife reflected in her mirror, she turned with smiling countenance, saying:
"Is it you, step-mamma? How kind of you! Am I delaying the dinner?"
"No more than I am," smiled Cora, in return. "I thought you might like me to wait for you, as you are so much of a stranger to your old home."
"Oh, I am not at all timid, I assure you; but it is nicer to go together. Am I almost ready, Strong?"
"Almost, Miss Payne."
"How quickly your maid dresses you," said Cora, resolved to keep the conversational ball rolling.
"Oh, yes; Strong knows how to pack things so that what you want first is uppermost, and I had my dinner dress in a hand traveling-case." Then, turning about she asked, abruptly: "Have you a good maid, step-mamma?"
Cora laughed nervously as she replied: "I have no maid, good or bad. My maid ran away a week ago, after robbing me and nearly killing me with chloroform."
"Mercy, what a wretch! What have you done with her?"
"We have not found her."
"Did you look?"
"Yes; detectives are looking for her now."
"Well, I hope they will find her. Now I am ready; come, step-mamma."
And together the two descended the stairs.
Three faces reflected three degrees of surprise, as the ladies entered the drawing-room with every appearance of good feeling and mutual satisfaction. Davlin and Percy took their cue immediately. The only one whom an observer would have pronounced not quite at ease, was Miss Ellen Arthur, who stared from one to the other rather more than was polite, and who sustained her part in the conversation in a very nervous, fragmentary manner.
Dinner being announced, Mr. Davlin promptly offered his arm to Madeline, who accepted it with perfect nonchalance. They followed Cora to the dining-room, themselves followed by Miss Arthur and Percy.
Where four people separately, and each for his own end, determine to appear cordial and perfectly at ease, each one bent upon completely blinding the other three, there must of a necessitybe much conversation, and more or less hilarity, whether real or assumed.
These four, who were waging upon each other secret and deadly war, ate and drank together; and while Madeline regaled them with a fictitious account of herself during the time she had been supposed dead, the others listened and commented, and vied with each other in paying hypocritical court to the heiress of Oakley.
"You see, step-mamma," said Madeline, as they lingered over their dessert, "I was never ignorant of what was going on here. My old nurse kept me informed. When I sent you the fiction of my death, I had no intention of returning, for I had determined never to live at Oakley during my step-father's reign. But upon hearing of his insanity, I resolved to come back, being now, of course, the real head of the house. Mr. Arthur beingnon compos mentis, I, as heiress, assume control of my own."
If a wish could have killed, Cora would have closed forever that insolent smiling mouth. But she felt herself powerless.
Davlin, with inimitable tact, came to her rescue: "Cora will be only too glad to welcome the queen back to her own. Indeed, she has been for some time declaring her intention of abdicating, for a time at least, and taking Mr. Arthur south to some medicinal springs. But the doctor fears the change will not benefit him."
Madeline turned her eyes upon Cora. "She can't go just yet," she said, with odd decision; "I want her society. Where is your doctor, Mr. Davlin?"
"He is up-stairs with his patient, Miss Payne. He usually joins us at breakfast, but not often at dinner."
The truth was that Lucian, not feeling upon safe ground, hadadvised the "doctor" to keep discreetly out of the way of this shrewd young lady for the present, lest her keen questions should draw out something not to their advantage.
Miss Payne turned to Cora again. "You have perfect confidence in the skill of this doctor, step-mamma?"
"Oh, yes!" said Cora, positively; "he has been known to me a very long time. Besides, we had in one of the Bellair doctors, who agreed with Dr. Le Guise in every particular."
"Well, I must see this learned gentleman to-morrow, and my step-papa also, I think. Step-mamma, you look fatigued; dining is too much for your strength. Let us leave the gentlemen to their wine and cigars."
As if she had been presiding at that table all her life, Miss Payne arose, bowed to the two men, and preceding the two astonished ladies, swept from the dining-room.
Cora, as she followed the graceful figure, could hardly restrain her mortification and rage. She felt a longing amounting almost to frenzy, to spring upon the girl and stab her in the back.
The two men did not linger long in the dining-room. Each felt anxious, for reasons of his own, to be again in the presence of Miss Payne, and so soon joined the ladies in the drawing-room.
After a little more hypocrisy on all their parts, Cora arose to retire to her apartments, declaring that the excitement of Miss Payne's arrival had made her forgetful of herself and her health, and that she began to feel her fictitious strength departing.
Madeline, too, arose, and offering her arm to Cora, said that she would also retire. Nodding a careless good-night to the three deserted ones, she left the room, with the fair invalid leaning languidly upon her arm.
To the surprise and dissatisfaction of Cora, Madeline not only accompanied her to her own apartment, but entered with her. Having closed the door carefully behind them, she turned about, and dropping all her assumed gayety and friendliness, said with the air of a queen commanding a subject:
"Now, Mrs. Arthur, let us understand each other!"
The sudden and marked change of her voice and manner startled the woman out of all her self-possession. She stood staring in the stern face of the girl with all of the audacity frightened out of her own.
Cora was an adventuress to the tips of her fingers. She was fond of intrigue; she possessed a certain kind of courage; but she was, after all, at heart, a coward. She was quite willing to compromise her soul for gain, but not her body. In short, she loved herself too well to find any piquancy in personal danger.
Since the loss of the papers and the flight of Céline Leroque had shaken her feeling of security, Cora had been restive and anxious to bring this plot to a climax. She had found it not at all to her taste to have Percy holding over her head a sword, be it ever so slender. And now, as she confronted Madeline, all her selfishness was alarmed. She waited in absolute fear the next words from the lips of her enemy.
"You need not weary yourself by playing the invalid in my presence, madame," pursued the girl. "I am quite well aware that your illness has been all a sham. I know, too, that you have found therôleof invalid very irksome."
The eyes of Cora widened still more, and all the color fled from her lips. But she made a fierce struggle and, although she could not summon up her usual insolence, she managed to gasp out, half defiantly: "What do you mean?"
"You understand my meaning," replied the girl, with contempt."I mean that you are in my power, and that you must obey my will."
For a moment Cora's anger outweighed her fear. She came a step nearer and said, sneeringly: "Indeed, Miss Payne! That remains to be seen!"
"True," assented Madeline, coldly. "First, then, you had better instruct your friend, Dr. Le Guise, not to administerhasheeshto Mr. Arthur to-morrow, in order to have him properly insane when I visit him."
Cora's knees bent under her, and all the color fled out of her face. But she rallied her flying courage enough to say: "Explain yourself, Miss Payne."
Madeline drew toward her Cora's easiest lounging chair, and seated herself therein with much deliberation, saying, as she did so:
"You had better sit down, Mrs. Arthur; there is no necessity for a display of anger, or for any more attempts at deception. The one is as useless as the other is transparent. And I have considerable to say to you."
Cora moved sullenly toward a chair and sank into it, feeling like a woman in a nightmare.
"First, then, for your position," pursued Madeline. "It is sufficient to say that I know of your scheme to dispose of Mr. Arthur and inherit the wealth you supposed to be his."
Cora was beginning to feel a return of combativeness, and she exclaimed quickly: "That is false!"
"I know," pursued her inquisitor, ignoring her retort, "that this man you call 'Dr. Le Guise,' is your tool and—I have had every drug that has been prescribed by him analyzed by city physicians!"
Cora saw that she was indeed undone, and began to fight withthe recklessness of despair. "I don't believe you!" she cried, reckless that she was committing herself. "That old spy, Hagar, has fancied these things. How could you get the medicines?"
"Not through Hagar."
"How then?"
"Just as I got the certificate of your marriage with Mr. Percy."
The woman sprang to her feet. "You—you are—"
"Céline Leroque, madame!" with an imitation of the ladies' maid accent.
Cora fell back in her chair panting.
"Now," resumed Madeline, "why don't you reflect that, if it were my intention to denounce you, I could have done that long ago. Are you not aware that my step-father is my enemy?"
"Not—in that way."
"In that way precisely. John Arthur tortured my mother until she died heart-broken. He made my childhood miserable, and shut me up in a convent to pass my girlhood in loneliness. He bartered me in marriage to a man older and uglier than himself, for ten thousand dollars. Then I defied him to his face; swore to revenge upon him my mother's wrongs and mine; and ran away. Do you understand now why I have allowed you to persecute John Arthur?"
Cora's courage began to revive. "I think I do," she said, slowly.
"You see, Mrs. Arthur, it is in my power to arrest you; first, for Bigamy, and second, for Attempted Poisoning."
Cora looked at her coolly. "But you won't do either," she said.
"Won't I? And why not?"
"Because, to do either, you must bring your own name into too prominent notice."
Madeline laughed scornfully.
"You—you are—!" "Céline Leroque, madame."—page 362."You—you are—!" "Céline Leroque, madame."—page 362.
"You forget," she said, "I left my home for revenge. I feigned to be dead—I returned to Oakley in disguise—for revenge. Do you think that I will let my pride stay me when, by exposing you, I can complete my vengeance upon John Arthur?"
Cora's countenance fell. She had not viewed the matter in just that light. She made no answer, and Madeline continued:
"Don't flatter yourself that I shall hesitate, if I cannot effect my purpose otherwise. I am not disposed just now to war with you, but if you do not see fit to accept my terms, then I must turn against you."
"What do you want of me?" sullenly.
"I want you to continue as we have begun. I want Miss Arthur, Mr. Percy, and your brother, to believe us the best of friends. Above all, I want John Arthur to think us allies."
"And what then?"
"Then, you will be safe so far as I am concerned. Then, when I have accomplished my purpose and hold in my hands the keys to the Oakley coffers, you shall have money, and shall go hence to resume your career in whatever field you choose."
"What security have I for all this?"
"My word!"
"And if I reject your terms?"
Madeline smiled oddly.
"What is to prevent my leaving this place now, to-night?" said Cora.
Madeline laughed, saying: "Do you want to try that?"
"If I did, what then?"
"Then—you would not be permitted to leave these premises!"
"Ah! you have spies in this house!"
"Yes; and out of it. There is no chance for you to escape.There is no chance for any one to escape. Mrs. Arthur, is this man that you call your brother really such, or is he, too, in your plot?"
Cora looked at her keenly, but it was no part of Madeline's plan to let her know that she had ever seen Lucian Davlin before that evening. Her face was as calm and inscrutable as the face of the sphinx.
"No," said Cora, at length "my brother does not know of it."
"I am glad of that," replied Madeline. "But, for fear of any deception, he will be kept undersurveillance; and if anything is communicated to him I shall surely know it."
"Why did you rob me of those papers?" asked Cora, abruptly.
"Because," said Madeline, leaning forward, "you and I have a common enemy."
"What! not Percy?"
"Yes, Percy!"
Cora looked amazed. "But—have you known him before?"
"I never saw him until he came to Oakley."
"I can't see how he has incurred your enmity here."
"He has not incurred my enmity here. I hated him before I ever saw him."
"Why?"
"Because he has wronged a friend who is as dear to me as life."
"Oh!"
"Don't puzzle your brain over this; you won't be enlightened. It is sufficient for you to know that you can serve me if you choose, because we are both enemies of the same men." Then, rising, "Now choose; will you remain here as my ally, or leave in disgrace, and a prisoner, as my enemy?"
Cora reflected, and finally said: "I accept your terms."
"Very good; and now for precautions. You must allow me to supply you with a maid."
"What?"
"You are an invalid; I am well and strong. What could be more natural than that I should desire you to have every care and comfort that I can desire? I shall give you my maid; she will supply the place of Céline Leroque."
"I won't have her," cried Cora, angrily. "I won't have a jailer."
"Certainly not; you will have my maid, however. I will get another to-morrow."
"I won't have her!"
"Nonsense." Madeline stepped quickly to the door and opened it. "Strong," she said, softly.
Instantly in stepped Strong, who had been just outside awaiting the orders of her mistress.
"Strong," said Madeline, "I am going to let you wait upon Mrs. Arthur. She is in delicate health, and needs a maid. You must bevery attentive, and don't let her get into any draughts. You can sleep in the dressing-room; and if she is notwell cared for, I shall hold you accountable."
Cora looked at the big, robust woman, so appropriately called Strong, and felt that she was indeed a prisoner.
Strong bowed in silent submission to the will of her late mistress, and turned her broad visage upon her new one.
Madeline moved to leave the room, saying, with a return to her former manner: "Good-night, step-mamma; try and go down to breakfast with me in the morning, won't you?"
Without waiting for a reply, she opened the door and swept across the hall, and Cora heard her door close behind her. Not deigning a single glance at Strong, Cora sat tapping her footupon the carpet and reviewing the situation. After some angry musing, the practical side of her nature began to assert itself. She reflected that she was not, after all, in immediate danger; and that she would be still, to all outward appearance, the mistress of Oakley. There was not much to fear just now, and she would keep her eyes open.
Meantime, she would not be unnecessarily uncomfortable. And so, being by nature indolent, she decided to make the most of the unwelcome Strong. Turning toward the statue-like figure near the door, she galvanized it into life by saying:
"Strong, get my dressing-gown from that closet, and then take off my dress."
And Strong commenced her duties with cheerful alacrity.
John Arthur sat before a smoldering fire, gazing moodily down at the charred embers that had lost their glow and only showed a dark red light here and there, as if to assure one that there was fire in the grate.
He was thinner than of old. His face wore a sickly pallor. His hands that clutched the arms of his invalid's chair worked incessantly, indicating surely that his nerves were in anything but a state of calm. He was feeble, too, in body; but his mind, spite of the verdict of the Bellair physician and the drugs of the Professor, was still unimpaired.
In the solitude of the two rooms, out of which he had not oncestepped since first he was removed to the west wing, he had had ample time for reflection; but he had by no means arrived at a state of mental beatitude.
He had found it useless to struggle, useless to bluster, to argue or to plead. Henry was a merciless jailer, and Dr. Le Guise a sarcastic one.
His breakfast had been served, and stood upon the table beside him; but he scarcely glanced at it. When Henry came in from the ante-room to remove the things, he said, without looking up: "Go ask Le Guise to come to me."
Henry carried away the tray, deposited it in the ante-room, locked the door of the chamber carefully, and made his way to the breakfast-room.
At that moment, the incongruous mixture called the family, were there assembled, including the Professor. The latter was just then discussing the condition of his patient with Miss Payne, in blissful ignorance of the fact that the young lady was fully conversant with his mode of treatment, and the true condition of her step-father's health.
"You see, my dear young lady," the Professor said, pompously, "his is the worst form of insanity; the very worst. When a patient raves constantly we know precisely what to do with him. But when he is, at times, to all appearance, as sane as yourself, and yet liable at any moment to blaze out a perfect madman, one dislikes to treat him as a madman, and yet it is not safe to consider him a sane being."
Madeline nodded, with a splendid assumption of profound interest.
"It's a sad case," she said, pensively. "I almost dread the interview."
"I think he is quite collected this morning, and he may becalm throughout. I hope so, for I should not like to have you witness one of his tantrums."
"I have seen him in tantrums when he was considered sane," said the girl, with an odd intonation.
Then looking up, she saw Henry, who had entered the room and stood staring at her in speechless amazement. Hagar had informed him that his young mistress was in the house. But he was not prepared for the vision of loveliness that the girl presented, as she turned toward him clad in her morning robe of snowy cashmere bordered with swansdown, and trailing after her like a train of snow. Luckily no one noted his start of surprise and quick glance of recognition, and Madeline said:
"Is not that my step-father's attendant, doctor? I think he wants you."
The "doctor" beckoned Henry to approach, and said, affably: "Well, and how is our patient, Henry?"
"About as usual, sir. But he wants to see you."
"Oh, he does? Poor soul, I'll come directly, Henry." Then, turning to Madeline: "Shall I break to him the news of your arrival?"
"No; not unless you think it unsafe to surprise him."
"On the contrary, an agreeable surprise might prove beneficial."
The Professor, who had received sundry instructions from Davlin, assumed to be ignorant of the fact that the patient supposed his step-daughter dead.
Smiling a little at the hypocrisy of the man, who pretended to have at heart the interest of a patient supposed to be in an excessively nervous state, yet was quite ready to expose that patient to the shock of meeting, without previous preparation,one supposed to be dead and in her grave, Madeline turned, and with a gesture brought Cora to her side.
"Is Dr. Le Guise aware that my step-papa believes me to be dead?" she asked.
Cora and the Professor looked dubiously at one another for an instant. Then the former, seeing her cue in the face of the latter, said: "He is not."
"Well, step-mamma, I am going up to see him soon, and, on second thought, it will be best to have the doctor inform him of my resurrection."
Cora nodded.
"And," pursued the girl, "I will only say that I desire you, doctor, to inform him that I feigned death for reasons of my own. That I am here in the flesh, and will appear in his presence soon. When you have prepared him for my coming, have the goodness to come down and tell me."
Saying this she turned away, after which the Professor quitted the room to obey the summons of his patient.
Lucian Davlin had witnessed the interview, the summons and the departure, from a distance. He had found no opportunity for conversing with Cora, as yet, and was sorely puzzled by the present aspect of affairs.
He had watched the two narrowly, but he found himself unable to read the true meaning lurking beneath the soft words that fell from the lips of Madeline. He could hear no jar in the music of her voice, could catch no glance that would give the lie to her honeyed words. She was playing her part like a born actress.
He had not expected to see Cora accept the situation without a struggle. He was glad to find that there was to be no scene, and yet—somehow he felt himself at a disadvantage.
He had viewed the situation from his stand-point, however, and had decided upon his course of action.
First, he was resolved not to quit the field until he had made a desperate attempt to regain his power over the heiress of Oakley. Second, he would use stratagem in order to obtain an interview with her.
In due time, Dr. Le Guise came among them once more, and announced to Madeline his readiness to conduct her into the presence of his patient.
"He is quite prepared to see me, then?" questioned Madeline.
"Quite, although I left him a trifle agitated and upset."
As they paused at the door leading from the hall of the west wing, she said:
"I will go in alone, Dr. Le Guise."
"As you please." Then, as it were an afterthought. "I really believe, for your own safety, you had better keep Henry near you."
"I shall be in no danger," she replied, and entered the outer chamber, closing and locking the door after herself.
In answer to her knock, the door of the ante-chamber was unlocked and opened by Henry. Madeline swept across the threshold and extended her hand to the faithful fellow, saying:
"Henry, I am glad to see you. I hope you do not find your present duties too heavy?"
"Not since I knew I was serving you, miss," said the man, respectfully.
"You are serving me, Henry. I need you here very much; and rest assured you shall have your reward for all you have done or may do for me."
Evidently the prospect of reward was not unpleasing to him. His countenance beamed satisfaction.
"And, Henry," continued his mistress, "attend to this. You are not, on any account, to give your charge any more of the medicine prepared for him by the doctor."
A look of surprise shone from the eyes of the negro, but he answered simply, like the well-trained servant he was: "Yes, miss."
"Above all, Henry, you are to let the doctor think that you administer all that he gives you."
Henry signified that he fully understood and would obey his instructions. Then he opened the inner door, and John Arthur and Madeline Payne stood once more face to face!
For a moment, the two eyed each other in silence. Then John Arthur said, with a sneer on his lip, and in a tone which proved clearly that time and imprisonment had not taught him meekness:
"So, you young jade, what escapade have you been up to now? And how dare you come back here like a young princess? Why don't you keep out of my house?"
Madeline laughed scornfully. "Yourhouse!—But I forgive you, step-papa; of course you are not accountable for your words."
Her tone was mockery itself. The man found it difficult to restrain his wrath as he looked in her scornful face and said: "Don't dare to pretend to believe that I am crazy! Are you in league against me, too?"
Wishing to draw from him just how much of the baseness of Cora he believed in, or suspected, she dropped her voice and asked, in assumed surprise: "Is it possible that you believe some one to be plotting against you?"
"Is itpossible! How else could I be kept shut up a prisoner in my own house?"
The girl seemed to ponder. "Who is your enemy?" she asked.
"Every one in this house."
"What! Surely not your wife?"
"I'm not so certain of that."
"But she, too, has been sick."
"Have they lockedherup?" snapped he.
Madeline smiled. "Well, not exactly; she is not allowed much liberty, though."
"Why won't she come and see me?"
"Mercy! She is too delicate."
"Seems to me you are well informed for one so lately arrived."
"Iamwell informed, Mr. Arthur. But I am not a late arrival."
"What do you mean?" sullenly.
"Just what I say," with an odd laugh. "I have been in this house since you were first put in these rooms."
He sat like one stupefied. At last he sprang up and fairly yelled, "In the fiend's name, explain this chicanery. Why are you here? Who is keeping me a prisoner, and wherefore? Is ityou, you little virago?"
"Softly, step-papa; one thing at a time. I am here becauseyouare here," she said in a voice of unruffled calm. "Who is keeping you a prisoner, you ask? I am."
Once more he seemed on the point of giving way to a paroxysm of rage, but controlled himself and said, sullenly:
"I suppose I may thank you for my imprisonment from first to last."
"You may thank me if you choose, but it will be bestowing your gratitude upon the wrong party. I did not lock you up. I simply permitted it."
"And why have you leagued with my wife—curse her—to shut me up like a thief?"
"Why?" her voice rising in angry scorn, "Do you ask mewhy? Why did you make my mother almost a prisoner in her own home? Why did you crush her in life, and blaspheme her in death? Why did you drive her daughter from the home that was hers, to escape from your cruelty, your insults, your avarice? John Arthur, how dare you ask mewhyyou are here!"
Again the flashing eye, the ringing, wrathful voice, the white, uplifted hand. They menaced him again, as on that June evening when she had defied him and then fled out into the darkness, not to return, save in dreams, until now.
Again he felt a thrill of terror, and he sat before her mute and cowering. At last he found voice to say: "Do you mean that you intend to keep me a prisoner?"
Her eyes met his full. They were cold as snow and resolute as fate. "You will never leave these rooms until you accede to the terms I have to propose."
Her audacity fairly stunned him. He fell back a pace as he said: "What—terms?"
"First, you are to agree to resign the guardianship of my property. Second, you are to leave Oakley forthwith and forever, and to keep ever and always away from me and all that is mine."
"Bah!" he cried, angrily, "do you think I am a fool? I won't resign my guardianship; the property ismine, not yours!"
"Then I will choose a new guardian immediately. How ignorant of law you are, step-papa! Don't you know that youare legallydead? Don't you know that a lunatic can't hold property? Legally, I can choose a guardian to-morrow."
"You she-devil! But I am not a lunatic!" sneered he.
"How obtuse you are, step-papa! Youarea lunatic; we have the certificates of two physicians to that effect; and that is all the law requires. Now, be reasonable; what can you do?"
"I'll get out, by heavens," he yelled; "and I'll put you in State's prison for false imprisonment!"
She turned upon him with the utmost composure. "My dear sir, you have not one witness to prove that you are a sane man. There are many to prove that you have been subject to violent fits of madness."
She turned again, and he, no longer seeking to control his rage, sprang toward her, uttering a volley of curses.
During their entire interview, Henry had stood like a sentinel at the outer door of the ante-room, while that leading into the chamber of the prisoner stood wide open. At the first accent of rage, he darted forward; and as the girl sprang away from her step-father, that gentleman felt himself seized and hurled with scant ceremony to the middle of the room.
"Don't you try that, sir!" cried Henry, in high wrath. "You won't find me a friend, if you do."
"So," panted the old man, "this is one of your hirelings, is it? And pray, sir, what is this young fiend to pay you for your services?"
"That's my affair," responded the man, coolly. "You can't buy me off; and if you try that game again, you will get yourself into a straight jacket."
Madeline laughed, and said: "There, Henry, you need not be alarmed for me. But when you report this attack to the doctor, tell him that I think he had better take measures tosecure his safety and yours, in case your patient should be again seized with a fit of violence."
John Arthur immediately saw that he had damaged his own cause.
"You had better sleep upon my proposition, Mr. Arthur," said Madeline, from the threshold. "If you pine for liberty, send for me. And don't think, for a moment, that I shall allow you to go free without taking the necessary precautions to insure myself against any trouble you might desire to make me. Adieu, Mr. Arthur." And she swept from the room.
John Arthur stood for many minutes in the same place and attitude. When his anger would permit him, he began to wonder. She had come and gone, and how much the wiser was he? Where had she been all these months? Why had she allowed them to think her dead? Who were her friends, for friends she must have found? Why had her presence in the house, if she had been here, been kept from him? How had she gained the ascendancy over every one in that house? He thought so long and intensely that he started up, at last, almost beginning to fear that he was becoming mad.
When Dr. Le Guise again came into his presence, he began to question him. But it was labor lost. Dr. Le Guise would not admit that he was a sane man. Dr. Le Guise knew nothing, absolutely nothing, outside the range of his professional duties. He was sorry for his patient; very sorry. He assumed to take all assertions on the part of Mr. Arthur as so many fresh evidences of insanity.