XXXVIII.
A WHITE SATIN GOWN.
The events just related did not come to my knowledge for some days afterthey occurred, but I have recorded them at this time that I might insome way prepare you for an interview which shortly after took placebetween myself and Mr. Gryce.
I had not seen him since our rather unsatisfactory parting in front ofMiss Althorpe's house, and the suspense which I had endured in theinterim made my greeting unnecessarily warm. But he took it all verynaturally.
"You are glad to see me," said he; "been wondering what has become ofMiss Oliver. Well, she is in good hands; with Mrs. Desberger, in short;a woman whom I believe you know."
"With Mrs. Desberger?" I _was_ surprised. "Why, I have been lookingevery day in the papers for an account of her arrest."
"No doubt," he answered. "But we police are slow; we are not ready toarrest her yet. Meanwhile you can do us a favor. She wants to see you;are you willing to visit her?"
My answer contained but little of the curiosity and eagerness I reallyfelt.
"I am always at your command. Do you wish me to go now?"
"Miss Oliver is impatient," he admitted. "Her fever is better, but sheis in an excited condition of mind which makes her a littleunreasonable. To be plain, she is not quite herself, and while we stillhope something from her testimony, we are leaving her very much to herown devices, and do not cross her in anything. You will therefore listento what she says, and, if possible, aid her in anything she mayundertake, unless it points directly towards self-destruction. Myopinion is that she will surprise you. But you are becoming accustomedto surprises, are you not?"
"Thanks to you, I am."
"Very well, then, I have but one more suggestion to make. You areworking for the police now, madam, and nothing that you see or learn inconnection with this girl is to be kept back from us. Am I understood?"
"Perfectly; but it is only proper for me to retort that I am notentirely pleased with the part you assign me. Could you not have leftthus much to my good sense, and not put it into so many words?"
"Ah, madam, the case at present is too serious for risks of that kind.Mr. Van Burnam's reputation, to say nothing of his life, depends uponour knowledge of this girl's secret; surely you can stretch a point in amatter of so much moment?"
"I have already stretched several, and I can stretch one more, but Ihope the girl won't look at me too often with those miserable appealingeyes of hers; they make me feel like a traitor."
"You will not be troubled by any appeal in them. The appeal hasvanished; something harder and even more difficult to meet is to befound in them now: wrath, purpose, and a desire for vengeance. She isnot the same woman, I assure you."
"Well," I sighed, "I am sorry; there is something about the girl thatlays hold of me, and I hate to see such a change in her. Did she ask forme by name?"
"I believe so."
"I cannot understand her wanting me, but I will go; and I won't leaveher either till she shows me she is tired of me. I am as anxious to seethe end of this matter as you are." Then, with some vague idea that Ihad earned a right to some show of confidence on his part, I addedinsinuatingly: "I supposed you would feel the case settled when shealmost fainted at the sight of the younger Mr. Van Burnam."
The old ambiguous smile I remembered so well came to modify his brusquerejoinder.
"If she had been a woman like you, I should; but she is a deep one, MissButterworth; too deep for the success of a little ruse like mine. Areyou ready?"
I was not, but it did not take me long to be so, and before an hour hadelapsed I was seated in Mrs. Desberger's parlor in Ninth Street. MissOliver was in, and ere long made her appearance. She was dressed instreet costume.
I was prepared for a change in her, and yet the shock I felt when Ifirst saw her face must have been apparent, for she immediatelyremarked:
"You find me quite well, Miss Butterworth. For this I am partiallyindebted to you. You were very good to nurse me so carefully. Will yoube still kinder, and help me in a new matter which I feel quiteincompetent to undertake alone?"
Her face was flushed, her manner nervous, but her eyes had anextraordinary look in them which affected me most painfully,notwithstanding the additional effect it gave to her beauty.
"Certainly," said I. "What can I do for you?"
"I wish to buy me a dress," was her unexpected reply. "A handsome dress.Do you object to showing me the best shops? I am a stranger in NewYork."
More astonished than I can express, but carefully concealing it inremembrance of the caution received from Mr. Gryce, I replied that Iwould be only too happy to accompany her on such an errand. Upon whichshe lost her nervousness and prepared at once to go out with me.
"I would have asked Mrs. Desberger," she observed while fitting on hergloves, "but her taste"--here she cast a significant look about theroom--"is not quiet enough for me."
"I should think not!" I cried.
"I shall be a trouble to you," the girl went on, with a gleam in her eyethat spoke of the restless spirit within. "I have many things to buy,and they must all be rich and handsome."
"If you have money enough, there will be no trouble about that."
"Oh, I have money." She spoke like a millionaire's daughter. "Shall wego to Arnold's?"
As I always traded at Arnold's, I readily acquiesced, and we left thehouse. But not before she had tied a very thick veil over her face.
"If we meet any one, do not introduce me," she begged. "I cannot talk topeople."
"You may rest easy," I assured her.
At the corner she stopped. "Is there any way of getting a carriage?" sheasked.
"Do you want one?"
"Yes."
I signalled a hack.
"Now for the dress!" she cried.
We rode at once to Arnold's.
"What kind of a dress do you want?" I inquired as we entered the store.
"An evening one; a white satin, I think."
I could not help the exclamation which escaped me; but I covered it upas quickly as possible by a hurried remark in favor of white, and weproceeded at once to the silk counter.
"I will trust it all to you," she whispered in an odd, choked tone asthe clerk approached us. "Get what you would for your daughter--no, no!for Mr. Van Burnam's daughter, if he has one, and do not spare expense.I have five hundred dollars in my pocket."
Mr. Van Burnam's daughter! Well, well! A tragedy of some kind wasportending! But I bought the dress.
"Now," said she, "lace, and whatever else I need to make it up suitably.And I must have slippers and gloves. You know what a young girl requiresto make her look like a lady. I want to look so well that the mostcritical eye will detect no fault in my appearance. It can be done, canit not, Miss Butterworth? My face and figure will not spoil the effect,will they?"
"No," said I; "you have a good face and a beautiful figure. You ought tolook well. Are you going to a ball, my dear?"
"I am going to a ball," she answered; but her tone was so strange thepeople passing us turned to look at her.
"Let us have everything sent to the carriage," said she, and went withme from counter to counter with her ready purse in her hand, but notonce lifting her veil to look at what was offered us, saying over andover as I sought to consult her in regard to some article: "Buy therichest; I leave it all to you."
Had Mr. Gryce not told me she must be humored, I could never have gonethrough this ordeal. To see a girl thus expend her hoarded savings onsuch frivolities was absolutely painful to me, and more than once I wastempted to decline any further participation in such extravagance. But athought of my obligations to Mr. Gryce restrained me, and I went onspending the poor girl's dollars with more pain to myself than if I hadtaken them out of my own pocket.
Having purchased all the articles we thought necessary, we were turningtowards the door when Miss Oliver whispered:
"Wait for me in the carriage for just a few minutes. I have one morething to buy, and I must do it a
lone."
"But----" I began.
"I will do it, and I will not be followed," she insisted, in a shrilltone that made me jump.
And seeing no other way of preventing a scene, I let her leave me,though it cost me an anxious fifteen minutes.
When she rejoined me, as she did at the expiration of that time, I eyedthe bundle she held with decided curiosity. But I could make no guess atits contents.
"Now," she cried, as she reseated herself and closed the carriage door,"where shall I find a dressmaker able and willing to make up this satinin five days?"
I could not tell her. But after some little search we succeeded infinding a woman who engaged to make an elegant costume in the time givenher. The first measurements were taken, and we drove back to NinthStreet with a lasting memory in my mind of the cold and rigid form ofMiss Oliver standing up in Madame's triangular parlor, submitting to themechanical touches of the modiste with an outward composure, but with abrooding horror in her eyes that bespoke an inward torment.