XXIV.
A HOUSE OF CARDS.
I did not return immediately to my patient. I waited till her suppercame up. Then I took the tray, and assured by the face of the girl whobrought it that Miss Althorpe had explained my presence in her housesufficiently for me to feel at my ease before her servants, I carried inthe dainty repast she had provided and set it down on the table.
The poor woman was standing where we had left her; but her whole figureshowed languor, and she more than leaned against the bedpost behind her.As I looked up from the tray and met her eyes, she shuddered and seemedto be endeavoring to understand who I was and what I was doing in herroom. My premonitions in regard to her were well based. She was in araging fever, and was already more than half oblivious to hersurroundings.
Approaching her, I spoke as gently as I could, for her hapless conditionappealed to me in spite of my well founded prejudices against her; andseeing she was growing incapable of response, I drew her up on the bedand began to undress her.
I half expected her to recoil at this, or at least to make some show ofalarm, but she submitted to my ministrations almost gratefully, andneither shrank nor questioned me till I laid my hands upon her shoes.Then indeed she quivered, and drew her feet away with such an appearanceof terror that I was forced to desist from my efforts or drive her intoviolent delirium.
This satisfied me that Louise Van Burnam lay before me. The scarconcerning which so much had been said in the papers would be everpresent in the thoughts of this woman as the tell-tale mark by which shemight be known, and though at this moment she was on the borders ofunconsciousness, the instinct of self-preservation still remained insufficient force to prompt her to make this effort to protect herselffrom discovery.
I had told Miss Althorpe that my chief reason for intruding upon MissOliver, was to determine if she had in her possession certain ringssupposed to have been taken from a friend of mine; and while this was ina measure true--the rings being an important factor in the proof I wasaccumulating against her,--I was not so anxious to search for them atthis time as to find the scar which would settle at once the question ofher identity.
When she drew her foot away from me then, so violently, I saw that Ineeded to search no farther for the evidence required, and could givemyself up to making her comfortable. So I bathed her temples, nowthrobbing with heat, and soon had the satisfaction of seeing her fallinto a deep and uneasy slumber. Then I tried again to draw off hershoes, but the start she gave and the smothered cry which escaped herwarned me that I must wait yet longer before satisfying my curiosity; soI desisted at once, and out of pure compassion left her to get what goodshe might from the lethargy into which she had fallen.
Being hungry, or at least feeling the necessity of some slight alimentto help me sustain the fatigues of the night, I sat down now at thetable and partook of some of the dainties with which Miss Althorpe hadkindly provided me. After which I made out a list of such articles aswere necessary to my proper care of the patient who had so strangelyfallen into my hands, and then, feeling that I had a right at last toindulge in pure curiosity, I turned my attention to the clothing I hadtaken from the self-styled Miss Oliver.
The dress was a simple gray one, and the skirts and underclothing allwhite. But the latter was of the finest texture, and convinced me,before I had given them more than a glance, that they were the propertyof Howard Van Burnam's wife. For, besides the exquisite quality of thematerial, there were to be seen, on the edges of the bands and sleeves,the marks of stitches and clinging threads of lace, where the trimminghad been torn off, and in one article especially, there were tucks suchas you see come from the hands of French needlewomen only.
This, taken with what had gone before, was proof enough to satisfy methat I was on the right track, and after Crescenze had come and gonewith the tray and all was quiet in this remote part of the house, Iventured to open a closet door at the foot of the bed. A brown silkskirt was hanging within, and in the pocket of that skirt I found apurse so gay and costly that all doubt vanished as to its being theproperty of Howard's luxurious wife.
There were several bills in this purse, amounting to about fifteendollars in money, but no change and no memoranda, which latter seemed apity. Restoring the purse to its place and the skirt to its peg, I camesoftly back to the bedside and examined my patient still more carefullythan I had done before. She was asleep and breathing heavily, but evenwith this disadvantage her face had its own attraction, an attractionwhich evidently had more or less influenced men, and which, for thereason perhaps that I have something masculine in my nature, Idiscovered to be more or less influencing me, notwithstanding my hatredof an intriguing character.
However, it was not her beauty I came to study, but her hair, hercomplexion, and her hands. The former was brown, the brown of that samelock I remembered to have seen in the jury's hands at the inquest; andher skin, where fever had not flushed it, was white and smooth. So wereher hands, and yet they were not a lady's hands. That I noticed when Ifirst saw her. The marks of the rings she no longer wore, were notenough to blind me to the fact that her fingers lacked the distinctiveshape and nicety of Miss Althorpe's, say, or even of the Misses VanBurnam; and though I do not object to this, for I like strong-looking,capable hands myself, they served to help me understand the face, whichotherwise would have looked too spiritual for a woman of the peevish andself-satisfied character of Louise Van Burnam. On this innocent andappealing expression she had traded in her short and none too happycareer. And as I noted it, I recalled a sentence in Miss Ferguson'stestimony, in which she alluded to Mrs. Van Burnam's confidential remarkto her husband upon the power she exercised over people when she raisedher eyes in entreaty towards them. "Am I not pretty," she had said,"when I am in distress and looking up in this way?" It was thesuggestion of a scheming woman, but from what I had seen and was seeingof the woman before me, I could imagine the picture she would thus make,and I do not think she overrated its effects.
Withdrawing from her side once more, I made a tour of the room. Nothingescaped my eyes; nothing was too small to engage my attention. But whileI failed to see anything calculated to shake my confidence in theconclusions I had come to, I saw but little to confirm them. This wasnot strange; for, apart from a few toilet articles and someknitting-work on a shelf, she appeared to have no belongings; everythingelse in sight being manifestly the property of Miss Althorpe. Even thebureau drawers were empty, and her bag, found under a small table, hadnot so much in it as a hair-pin, though I searched it inside and out forher rings, which I was positive she had with her, even if she dared notwear them.
When every spot was exhausted I sat down and began to brood over whatlay before this poor being, whose flight and the great efforts she madeat concealment proved only too conclusively the fatal part she hadplayed in the crime for which her husband had been arrested. I hadreached her arraignment before a magistrate, and was already imaginingher face with the appeal in it which such an occasion would call forth,when there came a low knock at the door, and Miss Althorpe re-entered.
She had just said good-night to her lover, and her face recalled to me atime when my own cheek was round and my eye was bright and--Well! whatis the use of dwelling on matters so long buried in oblivion! Amaiden-woman, as independent as myself, need not envy any girl thedoubtful blessing of a husband. I chose to be independent, and I am, andwhat more is there to be said about it? Pardon the digression.
"Is Miss Oliver any better?" asked Miss Althorpe; "and have youfound----"
I put up my finger in warning. Of all things, it was most necessary thatthe sick woman should not know my real reason for being there.
"She is asleep," I answered quietly, "and I _think_ I have found outwhat is the matter with her."
Miss Althorpe seemed to understand. She cast a look of solicitudetowards the bed and then turned towards me.
"I cannot rest," said she, "and will sit with you for a little while, ifyou don't mind."
I felt the implied comp
liment keenly.
"You can do me no greater favor," I returned.
She drew up an easy-chair. "That is for you," she smiled, and sat downin a little low rocker at my side.
But she did not talk. Her thoughts seemed to have recurred to some verynear and sweet memory, for she smiled softly to herself and looked sodeeply happy that I could not resist saying:
"These are delightful days for you, Miss Althorpe."
She sighed softly--how much a sigh can reveal!--and looked up at mebrightly. I think she was glad I spoke. Even such reserved natures ashers have their moments of weakness, and she had no mother or sister toappeal to.
"Yes," she replied, "I am very happy; happier than most girls are, Ithink, just before marriage. It is such a revelation to me--thisdevotion and admiration from one I love. I have had so little of it inmy life. My father----"
She stopped; I knew why she stopped. I gave her a look of encouragement.
"People have always been anxious for my happiness, and have warned meagainst matrimony since I was old enough to know the difference betweenpoverty and wealth. Before I was out of short dresses I was warnedagainst fortune-seekers. It was not good advice; it has stood in the wayof my happiness all my life, made me distrustful and unnaturallyreserved. But now--ah, Miss Butterworth, Mr. Stone is so estimable aman, so brilliant and so universally admired, that all my doubts ofmanly worth and disinterestedness have disappeared as if by magic. Itrust him implicitly, and--Do I talk too freely? Do you object to suchconfidences as these?"
"On the contrary," I answered. I liked Miss Althorpe so much and agreedwith her so thoroughly in her opinion of this man, that it was a realpleasure to me to hear her speak so unreservedly.
"We are not a foolish couple," she went on, warming with the charm ofher topic till she looked beautiful in the half light thrown upon her bythe shaded lamp. "We are interested in people and things, and get halfour delight from the perfect congeniality of our natures. Mr. Stone hasgiven up his club and all his bachelor pursuits since he knew me,and----"
O love, if at any time in my life I have despised thee, I did notdespise thee then! The look with which she finished this sentence wouldhave moved a cynic.
"Forgive me," she prayed. "It is the first time I have poured out myheart to any one of my own sex. It must sound strange to you, but itseemed natural while I was doing it, for you looked as if you couldunderstand."
This to me, to _me_, Amelia Butterworth, of whom men have said I had nomore sentiment than a wooden image. I looked my appreciation, and she,blushing slightly, whispered in a delicious tone of mingled shyness andpride:
"Only two weeks now, and I shall have some one to stand between me andthe world. _You_ have never needed any one, Miss Butterworth, for you donot fear the world, but it awes and troubles me, and my whole heartglows with the thought that I shall be no longer alone in my sorrows ormy joys, my perplexities or my doubts. Am I to blame for anticipatingthis with so much happiness?"
I sighed. It was a less eloquent sigh than hers, but it was a distinctone and it had a distinct echo. Lifting my eyes, for I sat so as to facethe bed, I was startled to observe my patient leaning towards us fromher pillows, and staring upon us with eyes too hollow for tears butfilled with unfathomable grief and yearning.
She had heard this talk of love, she, the forsaken and crime-stainedone. I shuddered and laid my hand on Miss Althorpe's.
But I did not seek to stop the conversation, for as our looks met, thesick woman fell back and lapsed, or seemed to lapse, into immediateinsensibility again.
"Is Miss Oliver worse?" inquired Miss Althorpe.
I rose and went to the bedside, renewed the bandages on my patient'shead, and forced a drop or two of medicine between her half-shut lips.
"No," I returned, "I think her fever is abating." And it was, thoughthe suffering on her face was yet heart-rendingly apparent.
"Is she asleep?"
"She seems to be."
Miss Althorpe made an effort.
"I am not going to talk any more about myself." Then as I came back andsat down by her side, she quietly asked:
"What do you think of the Van Burnam murder?"
Dismayed at the introduction of this topic, I was about to put my handover her mouth, when I noticed that her words had made no evidentimpression upon my patient, who lay quietly and with a more composedexpression than when I left her bedside. This assured me, as nothingelse could have done, that she was really asleep, or in that lethargicstate which closes the eyes and ears to what is going on.
"I think," said I, "that the young man Howard stands in a veryunfortunate position. Circumstances certainly do look very black againsthim."
"It is dreadful, unprecedently dreadful. I do not know what to think ofit all. The Van Burnams have borne so good a name, and Franklinespecially is held in such high esteem. I don't think anything moreshocking has ever happened in this city, do you, Miss Butterworth? Yousaw it all, and should know. Poor, poor Mrs. Van Burnam!"
"She is to be pitied!" I remarked, my eyes fixed on the immovable faceof my patient.
"When I heard that a young woman had been found dead in the Van Burnammansion," Miss Althorpe pursued with such evident interest in this newtheme that I did not care to interrupt her unless driven to it by sometoken of consciousness on the part of my patient, "my thoughts flewinstinctively to Howard's wife. Though why, I cannot say, for I neverhad any reason to expect so tragic a termination to their marriagerelations. And I cannot believe now that he killed her, can you, MissButterworth? Howard has too much of the gentleman in him to do a brutalthing, and there was brutality as well as adroitness in the perpetrationof this crime. Have you thought of that, Miss Butterworth?"
"Yes," I nodded, "I have looked at the crime on all sides."
"Mr. Stone," said she, "feels dreadfully over the part he was forced toplay at the inquest. But he had no choice, the police would have histestimony."
"That was right," I declared.
"It has made us doubly anxious to have Howard free himself. But he doesnot seem able to do so. If his wife had only known----"
Was there a quiver in the lids I was watching? I half raised my hand andthen I let it drop again, convinced that I had been mistaken. MissAlthorpe at once continued:
"She was not a bad-hearted woman, only vain and frivolous. She had sether heart on ruling in the great leather-merchant's house, and she didnot know how to bear her disappointment. I have sympathy for her myself.When I saw her----"
Saw her! I started, upsetting a small work-basket at my side which foronce I did not stop to pick up.
"You have seen her!" I repeated, dropping my eyes from the patient tofix them in my unbounded astonishment on Miss Althorpe's face.
"Yes, more than once. She was--if she were living I would not repeatthis--a nursery governess in a family where I once visited. That wasbefore her marriage; before she had met either Howard or Franklin VanBurnam."
I was so overwhelmed, that for once I found difficulty in speaking. Iglanced from her to the white form in the shrouded bed, and back againin ever-growing astonishment and dismay.
"You have seen her!" I at last reiterated in what I meant to be awhisper, but which fell little short of being a cry, "and you took inthis girl?"
Her surprise at this burst was almost equal to mine.
"Yes, why not; what have they in common?"
I sank back, my house of cards was trembling to its foundations.
"Do they--do they not look alike?" I gasped. "I thought--I imagined----"
"Louise Van Burnam look like that girl! O no, they were very differentsort of women. What made you think there was any resemblance betweenthem?"
I did not answer her; the structure I had reared with such care andcircumspection had fallen about my ears and I lay gasping under theruins.