CHAPTER XLVIII.FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS.
“Miss Spicer, if you’ll promise never to mention it, I’ll tell you something,” said the maid, after a little consideration.
“Well, I promise!”
“That man, Mr. Ross, I mean, once forced himself into our garden, trampled down the beds, and insisted on finding madam in one of the green-houses, where he did find her, and there they talked together in a strange way. I did not hear what they said, being in another part of the garden, and old Storms there, so that I could not get closer; but his voice was loud and clear, and hers—— Well, I can’t tell you what hers was like, only there was something that went to my heart in it—tears buried out of sight since she was a girl. I should say——”
“Well, Ellen, you have surprised me. Who would havethought it of her—so proud, so grandly self-possessed? I never dreamed that she could give way.”
“Give way! Why, that man left her on the conservatory floor in a dead swoon,” said Ellen Post, bringing her story to a climax with thrilling dexterity.
Miss Spicer sunk down on the carpet, by the billowy waves of silk that Ellen had dropped there, holding up her hands in astonishment.
“Mrs. Lambert in a swoon, a down right fainting fit! I can’t believe it. Indeed, indeed, I can’t.”
“You may, for I helped to bring her out, and a dreadful time we had of it. All that night long she lay like a dead woman, and never spoke a word, except one, and that was a name.”
“What name, Ellen?”
“Herman. I never heard it before, and I don’t know who it belongs to in the least,” answered the lady’s maid.
“Herman; that ishisname—Herman Ross.”
“Then, one thing is sure!”
“What is that, Ellen?”
“She loves that man.”
“Ellen Post, you take away my breath!”
“She loves that man. It was him she was dressing for that night, when nothing could please her.”
“The night of Mrs. Carter’s party; do you mean that, Ellen?”
“Of course I mean that. Never saw her so hard to please. I took off her diamonds twice, and had to put them on again at last. Never saw anything like it. In any other person I should have known the signs; but who would suspect her of wanting to please any one in particular? But it’s all clear now. We’ve settled on the right man.”
“Why, Ellen, he’s going to marry this Laurence girl himself!”
“What! The mansheloves?”
“As true as I sit here—he is engaged to her! It all came out at the party. Mrs. Carter told it. This Ross is her brother, you know.”
“That was what made her so white and wild. I understand it all now. That is why she kept repeating the girl’s name in her sleep, which was more like a fit than natural slumber. She has not been herself since.”
“No, you are right there; she seems like one stupefied by a blow—and Ivon is not much better. He was wild as a hawk that night. Only think of it—mother and son; but it serves him right. I have no compassion for him, and all but engaged to me.”
“But if she marries this Ross, all will be at an end with Mr. Ivon.”
“No, it won’t. He thinks her the loveliest, the most beautiful and accomplished creature in the world. Being married won’t hurt her with him. He will never think any one fit to untie her shoes. I want him to despise her—hate her. I want to break up this match, which is killing your poor mistress.”
“But how?”
“I don’t know. What is the good of being rich when the thing you want most can’t be got for money. Oh, if I had that girl under my feet how I would stamp her down!”
Ellen Post seated herself by the window, and fell into thought. She was a sharp, even-tempered schemer, who saw a chance of killing several birds with one stone, if it only could be brought about. Her ideas were crude as yet, but she saw a gleam of daylight through them.
“Five thousand dollars! Did you say that, Miss Spicer?”
“I said five thousand dollars. I don’t know what I said, but I’d give even that. But what is the good?”
“And you mean it?”
“Mean it? No, I don’t mean it, for the thing isn’t possible. If it were I wouldn’t hesitate a moment.”
“What you want is to disgrace the girl, so that neither of these men would think of marrying her?”
“That is what I am pining for, and what will make your lady a well and happy woman. It is for her sake.”
“Never mind! I see!” said Ellen, interrupting the young lady without ceremony. “Now there are various kinds of disgrace; some think poverty enough.”
“But that won’t do here; she is poor as a church mouse already, and they do not care a straw for it.”
“Yes, I understand. We must plunge deeper than that. When it is accomplished, I may be sure of the five thousand?”
“I might promise safely, and call it fifty thousand; but, if it is possible for you to place this girl in a position which will drive all honorable men from her, I will gladly give you the sum I at first spoke of.”
“And the madam?”
“She must know nothing of this. She would condemn us, and reject our help, though it is mostly for her good,” said the young lady, with emphasis. “This must rest between you and myself. If another soul is informed, I for one will throw up the bargain.”
“There is no need of that,” said Ellen, half buried in thought.
“Furthermore, I must have nothing to do with this, only so far as the money is concerned.”
“That is understood. In fact, I see nothing that you could be of use in.”
“Of course not.”
“Nor do I see how any one can act as yet; but all the same, Miss Spicer, I shall earn your money.”
“Very well; I don’t ask how. I only wish for a thing, and when it comes to pass, give so much money.”
“Five thousand,” said the maid.
“Five thousand,” answered the young lady, and the bargain was closed.