XXXIV.
EXACTLY HALF-PAST THREE.
"She is more unfortunate than wicked," was Mr. Gryce's comment as westepped into the hall. "Nevertheless, watch her closely, for she is injust the mood to do herself a mischief. In an hour, or at the most two,I shall have a woman here to help you. You can stay till then?"
"All night, if you say so."
"That you must settle with Miss Althorpe. As soon as Miss Oliver is up Ishall have a little scheme to propose, by means of which I hope toarrive at the truth of this affair. I must know which of these two menshe is shielding."
"Then you think she did not kill Mrs. Van Burnam herself?"
"I think the whole matter one of the most puzzling mysteries that hasever come to the notice of the New York police. We are sure that themurdered woman was Mrs. Van Burnam, that this girl was present at herdeath, and that she availed herself of the opportunity afforded by thatdeath to make the exchange of clothing which has given such acomplicated twist to the whole affair. But beyond these facts, we knowlittle more than that it was Franklin Van Burnam who took her to theGramercy Park house, and Howard who was seen in that same vicinity sometwo or four hours later. But on which of these two to fix theresponsibility of Mrs. Van Burnam's death, is the question."
"She had a hand in it herself," I persisted; "though it may have beenwithout evil intent. No man ever carried that thing through withoutfeminine help. To this opinion I shall stick, much as this girl drawsupon my sympathies."
"I shall not try to persuade you to the contrary. But the point is tofind out how much help, and to whom it was given."
"And your scheme for doing this?"
"Cannot be carried out till she is on her feet again. So cure her, MissButterworth, cure her. When she can go down-stairs, Ebenezer Gryce willbe on the scene to test his little scheme."
I promised to do what I could, and when he was gone, I set diligently towork to soothe the child, as he had called her, and get her in trim forthe delicate meal which had been sent up. And whether it was owing to achange in my own feelings, or whether the talk with Mr. Gryce had sounnerved her that any womanly ministration was welcome, she respondedmuch more readily to my efforts than ever before, and in a little whilelay in so calm and grateful a mood that I was actually sorry to see thenurse when she came. Hoping that something might spring from aninterview with Miss Althorpe whereby my departure from the house mightbe delayed, I descended to the library, and was fortunate enough to findthe mistress of the house there. She was sorting invitations, and lookedanxious and worried.
"You see me in a difficulty, Miss Butterworth. I had relied on MissOliver to oversee this work, as well as to assist me in a great manyother details, and I don't know of any one whom I can get on shortnotice to take her place. My own engagements are many and----"
"Let me help you," I put in, with that cheerfulness her presenceinvariably inspires. "I have nothing pressing calling me home, and foronce in my life I should like to take an active part in weddingfestivities. It would make me feel quite young again."
"But----" she began.
"Oh," I hastened to say, "you think I would be more of a hindrance toyou than a help; that I would do the work, perhaps, but in my own wayrather than in yours. Well, that would doubtless have been true of me amonth since, but I have learned a great deal in the last few weeks,--youwill not ask me how,--and now I stand ready to do your work in your way,and to take a great deal of pleasure in it too."
"Ah, Miss Butterworth," she exclaimed, with a burst of genuine feelingwhich I would not have lost for the world, "I always knew that you had akind heart; and I am going to accept your offer in the same spirit inwhich it is made."
So that was settled, and with it the possibility of my spending anothernight in this house.
At ten o'clock I stole away from the library and the delightful companyof Mr. Stone, who had insisted upon sharing my labors, and went up toMiss Oliver's room. I met the nurse at the door.
"You want to see her," said she. "She's asleep, but does not rest veryeasily. I don't think I ever saw so pitiful a case. She moanscontinually, but not with physical pain. Yet she seems to have couragetoo; for now and then she starts up with a loud cry. Listen."
I did so, and this is what I heard:
"I do not want to live; doctor, I do not want to live; why do you try tomake me better?"
"That is what she is saying all the time. Sad, isn't it?"
I acknowledged it to be so, but at the same time wondered if the girlwere not right in wishing for death as a relief from her troubles.
Early the next morning I inquired at her door again. Miss Oliver wasbetter. Her fever had left her, and she wore a more natural look than atany time since I had seen her. But it was not an untroubled one, and itwas with difficulty I met her eyes when she asked if they were comingfor her that day, and if she could see Miss Althorpe before she left. Asshe was not yet able to leave her bed I could easily answer her firstquestion, but I knew too little of Mr. Gryce's intentions to be able toreply to the second. But I was easy with this suffering woman, veryeasy, more easy than I ever supposed I could be with any one sointimately associated with crime.
She seemed to accept my explanations as readily as she already had mypresence, and I was struck again with surprise as I considered that myname had never aroused in her the least emotion.
"Miss Althorpe has been so good to me I should like to thank her; frommy despairing heart, I should like to thank her," she said to me as Istood by her side before leaving. "Do you know"--she went on, catchingme by the dress as I was turning away--"what kind of a man she is goingto marry? She has such a loving heart, and marriage is such a fearfulrisk."
"Fearful?" I repeated.
"Is it not fearful? To give one's whole soul to a man and be met by--Imust not talk of it; I must not think of it--But is he a good man? Doeshe love Miss Althorpe? Will she be happy? I have no right to ask,perhaps, but my gratitude towards her is such that I wish her every joyand pleasure."
"Miss Althorpe has chosen well," I rejoined. "Mr. Stone is a man in tenthousand."
The sigh that answered me went to my heart.
"I will pray for her," she murmured; "that will be something to livefor."
I did not know what reply to make to this. Everything which this girlsaid and did was so unexpected and so convincing in its sincerity, Ifelt moved by her even against my better judgment. I pitied her and yetI dared not urge her on to speak, lest I should fail in my task ofmaking her well. I therefore confined myself to a few haphazardexpressions of sympathy and encouragement, and left her in the hands ofthe nurse.
Next day Mr. Gryce called.
"Your patient is better," said he.
"Much better," was my cheerful reply. "This afternoon she will be ableto leave the house."
"Very good; have her down at half-past three and I will be in front witha carriage."
"I dread it," I cried; "but I will have her there."
"You are beginning to like her, Miss Butterworth. Take care! You willlose your head if your sympathies become engaged."
"It sits pretty firmly on my shoulders yet," I retorted; "and as forsympathies, you are full of them yourself. I saw how you looked at heryesterday."
"Bah, _my_ looks!"
"You cannot deceive me, Mr. Gryce; you are as sorry for the girl as youcan be; and so am I too. By the way, I do not think I should speak ofher as a girl. From something she said yesterday I am convinced she is amarried woman; and that her husband----"
"Well, madam?"
"I will not give him a name, at least not before your scheme has beencarried out. Are you ready for the undertaking?"
"I will be this afternoon. At half-past three she is to leave the house.Not a minute before and not a minute later. Remember."