XXIII. HIS ONLY
In an instant she was on her feet and struggling to suppress thesobs that had been wrung from her by the words of Lady Saxondale.
"Dorothy," said Quentin, his voice tender and pleading, "you haveheard what Lady Saxondale had to say?"
She was now standing at the window, her back to him, her figurestraight and defiant, her hands clenched in the desperate effort toregain her composure.
"Yes," she responded, hoarsely.
"I have not come to ask your pardon for my action, but to imploreyou to withhold judgment against the others. I alone am to blame;they are as loyal to you as they have been to me. Whatever hatredyou may have in your heart, I deserve it. Spare the others a singlereproach, for they were won to my cause only after I had convincedthem that they were serving you, not me. You are with true friends,the best that man or woman could have. I have not come to make anyappeal for myself. There will be time enough for that later on, whenyou have come to realize what your deliverance means."
She faced him, slowly, a steady calm in her face, a soft intensityin her voice.
"You need not hope that I shall forgive this outrage--ever--as longas I live. You may have had motives which from your point of viewwere good and justifiable--but you must not expect me to agree withyou. You have done something that no love on earth could obliterate;you have robbed my memory of a sweet confidence, of the one gloriousthing that made me look upon you as the best of men--your nobility.I recognize you as the leader in this cowardly conspiracy, but whatmust I think of these willing tools you plead for? Are they entitledto my respect any more than you? I am in your power. You can andwill do with me as you like, but you cannot compel me to alter thatover which I have no control--my reason. Oh, how could you do thisdreadful thing, Phil?" she cried, suddenly casting the forcedreserve to the winds and relapsing into a very undignified appeal.He smiled wearily and met her gaze with one in which no irresolutionflickered.
"It was my only way," he said, at last.
"The only way!" she exclaimed. "There was but one way, and I hadcommanded you to take it. Do you expect to justify yourself bysaying it was the 'only way'? To drag me from my mother, to destroyevery vestige of confidence I had in you, to make me the mosttalked-of woman in Europe to-day--was that the 'only way'? What arethey doing and saying to-day? Of what are the newspapers talkingunder those horrid headlines? What are the police, the detectives,the gossips doing? I am the object on which their every thought iscentered. Oh, it is maddening to think of what you, of all people,have heaped upon me!"
She paced the floor like one bereft of reason. His heart smote himas he saw the anguish he had brought into the soul of the girl heloved better than everything.
"And my poor mother. What of her? Have you no pity, no heart? Don'tyou see that it will kill her? For God's sake, let me go back toher, Phil! Be merciful!" she cried.
"She is safe and well, Dorothy; I swear it on my soul. True, shesuffers, but it is better she should suffer now and find joyafterward than to see you suffer for a lifetime. You would notlisten to me when I told you the man you were to marry was ascoundrel. There was but one way to save you from him and fromyourself; there was but one way to save you for myself, and I tookit. I could not and would not give you up to that villain. I loveyou, Dorothy; you cannot doubt that, even though you hate me forproving it to you. Everything have I dared, to save you and to winyou--to make you gladly say some day that you love me."
Her eyes blazed with scorn. "Love you? After what you have done? Oh,that I could find words to tell you how I hate you!" She stopped infront of him, her white face and gleaming eyes almost on a levelwith his, and he could not but quail before the bitter loathing thatrevealed itself so plainly. Involuntarily his hand went forth insupplication, and the look in his eyes came straight from the depthsinto which despair had cast him. If she saw the pain in his face heroutraged sensibilities refused to recognize it.
"Dorothy, you--you--" he began, but pulled himself together quickly"I did not come in the hope of making you look at things through myeyes. It is my mission to acknowledge as true, all that LadySaxondale has told you concerning my culpability. I alone am guiltyof wrong, and I am accountable. If we are found out, I have plannedcarefully to protect my friends. Yet a great deal rests with you.When the law comes to drag me from this place, its officers willfind me alone, with you here as my accuser. My friends will haveescaped. They are your friends as well as mine. You will do themthejustice of accusing but me, for I alone am the criminal."
"You assume a great deal when you dictate what I am to do and tosay, if I have the opportunity. They are as guilty as you, andwithout an incentive. Do you imagine that I shall shield them? Ihave no more love for them than I have for you; not half therespect, for you, at least, have been consistent. Will you answerone question?"
"Certainly."
"How long do you purpose to keep me in this place?"
"Until you, of your own free will, can utter three simple words."
"And those words?"
"I love you."
"Then," she said, slowly, decisively, "I am doomed to remain hereuntil death releases me."
"Yes; the death of ambition."
She turned from him with a bitter laugh, seating herself in a chairnear the window. Looking up into his face, she said, with maddeningsubmission:
"I presume your daily visits are to be a part of the torture I am toendure?"
His smile, as he shook his head in response, incensed her to thepoint of tears, and she was vastly relieved when he turned abruptlyand left the apartment. When the maid came in she found MissGarrison asleep on the couch, her cheeks stained with tears. Tired,despairing, angry, she had found forgetfulness for the while. Sleepsat lightly upon her troubled brain, however, for the almostnoiseless movements of the maid awakened her and she sat up with astart.
"Oh, it is you!" she said, after a moment. "What is your name?'
"Baker, Miss."
The captive sat on the edge of the couch and for many minuteswatched, through narrow eyes, the movements of the servant. A planwas growing in her brain, and she was contemplating the situation ina new and determined frame of mind.
"Baker," she said, finally, "come here." The maid stood before her,attentively.
"Would you like to earn a thousand pounds?"
Without the faintest show of emotion, the least symptom of eagerness,Baker answered in the affirmative.
"Then you have but to serve me as I command, and the money is yours."
"I have already been instructed to serve you, Miss."
"I don't mean for you to dress my hair and to fasten my gown and allthat. Get me out of this place and to my friends. That is what Imean," whispered Dorothy, eagerly.
"You want to buy me, Miss?' said Baker, calmly.
"Not that, quite, Baker, but just--"
"You will not think badly of me if I cannot listen to your offer,Miss? I am to serve you here, and I want you to like me, but Icannot do what you would ask. Pardon me if I speak plainly, but Icannot be bought." There was no mistaking the honest expression inthe maid's eyes. "Lady Saxondale is my mistress, and I love her. Ifshe asks me to take you to your friends, I will obey."
Dorothy's lips parted and a look of incredulity grew in her eyes.For a moment she stared with unconcealed wonder upon this unusualgirl, and then wonder slowly changed to admiration.
"Would that all maids were as loyal, Baker. Lady Saxondale trustsyou and so shall I. But," wonder again manifesting itself, "I cannotunderstand such fidelity. Not for L5,000?"
"No, Miss; thank you," respectfully and firmly.
"Ask Lady Saxondale if I may come to her."
The maid departed, and soon returned to say that Lady Saxondalewould gladly see her. Dorothy followed her down the long, dark halland into the boudoir of Castle Craneycrow's mistress. Lady Jane saton the broad window seat, looking pensively out at the blue sky.There was in the room such an air of absolute peace and securitythat Dorothy's heart g
ave a sharp, wistful throb.
"I'm glad you've come, Dorothy," said Lady Saxondale, approachingfrom the shadowy side of the room. Dorothy turned to see the handsof her ladyship extended as if calling her to friendly embrace. Fora moment she looked into the clear, kindly eyes of the older woman,and then, overcome by a strange, inexplicable longing for love andsympathy, dropped her hands into those which were extended.
"I've come to beg, Lady Saxondale--to beg you to be kind to me, tohave pity for my mother. I can ask no more," she said, simply.
"I love you, dear; we all love you. Be content for a little while, alittle while, and then you will thank Heaven and thank us."
"I demand that you release me," cried the other. "You are committinga crime against all justice. Release me, and I promise to forget thepart you are taking in this outrage. Trust me to shield you andyours absolutely."
"You ask me to trust you. Now, I ask you to trust me. Trust me toshield you and to--"
"You are cruel!"
"Forgive me," said Lady Saxondale, simply. She pressed the handswarmly, and passed from the room. Dorothy felt her head reel, andthere was in her heart the dread of losing something precious, sheknew not what.
"Come up into the tower with me, Dorothy," said Lady Jane, coming toher side, her voice soft and entreating. "The view is grand. Mr.Savage and I were there early this morning to see the sun rise."
"Are you all against me? Even you, Lady Jane? Oh, how have I wrongedyou that I should be made to suffer so at your hands? Yes, yes! Takeme to the tower! I can't stay here."
"I shall ask Mr. Savage to go with us. He will hold you. It would betoo bad to have you try to fly from up there, because it's a longway to the crags, and you'd never fly again--in this world, atleast. I believe I'll call Dickey, to be on the safe side."
There was something so merry, so free and unrestrained about herthat Dorothy smiled in spite of herself. With a new sensation in herheart, she followed her guide to the top of the broad stairway. Hereher ladyship paused, placed two pink fingers between her teeth, andsent a shrill whistle sounding down between the high walls.
"All right!" came a happy voice from below. There was a scramble offeet, two or three varied exclamations in masculine tones, and thenMr. Savage came bounding up the stairs. "Playing chess with yourbrother and had to break up the game. When duty calls, you know.Morning, Miss Garrison. What's up?"
"We're just on the point of going up," said Jane, sweetly. "Up inthe tower. Miss Garrison wants to see how far she can fly."
"About 800 feet, I should say, Miss Garrison. It's quite a drop tothe rocks down there. Well, we're off to the top of Craneycrow.Isn't that a jolly old name?"
"Chick o' me, Chick o' me, Craneycrow, Went to the well to wash hertoe, When she got back her chicken was dead--chick o' me, Chick o'me, chop off his head--What time is it, old witch?"
"Who gave the castle such an odd, uncanny name?" asked Dorothy,under the spell of their blithesome spirits.
"Lady Jane--the young lady on your left, an' may it please you,Miss," said Dickey.
"Bob couldn't think of a name for the old thing, so he commissionedme. Isn't Craneycrow delightful? Crane--that's a bird, you know, andcrow is another bird, too, you know; isn't it a joy? I'm so proud ofit," cried Lady Jane, as she scurried up the narrow, winding stonesteps that led to the top of the tower. Dorothy followed moresedately, the new-born smile on her lips, the excitement of a newemotion surging over the wall of anger she had thrown up againstthese people.
"I wish I could go out and explore the hills and rocks about thisplace," said Dickey, wistfully.
"Why can't you? Is it dangerous?" queried Dorothy.
"Heavens, no! Perfectly safe in that respect. Oh, I forgot; youdon't know, of course. Phil Quentin and your devoted servant are notpermitted to show their faces outside these walls."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you see, we're in America. Don't you understand? You're notthe only prisoner, Miss Garrison. Behold two bold, bad bandits asyour fellow captives. Alas! that I should have come to the cruelprison cell!"
"I had not thought of that," said Miss Garrison, reflectively, andthen she looked upon Dickey with a new interest. They crawledthrough the trap door and out upon the stone-paved, airy crown ofthe tower. She uttered an exclamation of awe and shrank back fromthe sky that seemed to press down upon her. Nothing but sky--bluesky! Then she peered over the low wall, down upon the rocks below,and shuddered.
"Hello, Phil! Great, isn't it?" exclaimed Dickey, and Dorothyrealized that Quentin was somewhere behind her in the littlerock-bound circle among the clouds. A chill fell upon her heart, andshe would not turn toward the man whose very name brought rage toher heart.
"Magnificent! I have been up here in the sun and the gale for halfan hour. Here are the newspapers, Lady Jane; Bob's man brought theman hour ago. There is something in them that will interest you,Dorothy. Pardon me, but I must go down. And don't fall off thetower, Lady Jane."
"Don't worry, grandfather; I'll be a good little girl and I shan'tfall off the tower, because I'm so afraid you'd find it out and beatme and send me to bed without my supper. Won't you stay up just awee bit longer?"
"Now, don't coax, little girl. I must go down."
"See you later," Dickey called after him as he disappeared throughthe narrow opening. Dorothy turned her stony face slightly, andquick, angry eyes looked for an instant into the upturned face ofthe man who was swallowed in the darkness of the trap hole almost inthe same second.
"Don't fall off the tower, Lady Jane," came the hollow voice fromthe ladders far below, and, to Dorothy's sensitive ears, there wasthe most devilish mockery in the tones.
"I can forgive all of you--all of you, but--but--never that inhumanwretch! Oh, how I hate him!" cried she, her face ablaze, her voicetrembling with passion.
"Oh, Dorothy!" cried Lady Jane, softly, imploringly.
"I wish from my soul, that this tower might tumble down and kill himthis instant, and that his bones could never be found!" wailed theother.
"There's an awful weight above him, Miss Garrison--the weight ofyour wrath," said Dickey, without a smile.