Kitabı oku: «Jolly Sally Pendleton: or, the Wife Who Was Not a Wife», sayfa 14
CHAPTER XLVIII
At that moment Andrew, the valet, came flying out of his master's room.
"Oh, Miss Margaret! Miss Margaret!" he cried, hoarsely, "how can I ever tell you what had happened? But it was a mistake – indeed it was all a mistake! I do not see how I ever came to do it!"
Margaret Gardiner hurriedly caught the man's arm in a firm grasp, looking sternly in his face.
"Andrew," she said, with great calmness, "stop that shouting, and tell me instantly what the matter is. Has – has – anything happened my brother or – or his wife?"
Her quiet tone brought the valet to his senses more quickly than anything else could have done.
"Yes, I'll tell you, Miss Margaret," he answered, hoarsely; "and though master turns me off to-morrow for it, I swear to you earnestly that it was all a terrible mistake."
"What has happened?" repeated Miss Margaret, sternly. "Get to the point at once, Andrew."
"It was this way, Miss Margaret," he cried. "Master sent me for a glass of brandy. I brought it to him. He always likes a few drops of cordial put in it, and I went to his dresser, where I had placed the cordial a few minutes before, took up the bottle hurriedly, and shook in a generous quantity. Now it happened that I had also taken out a bottle of drops – quieting drops which master had been taking for the last two nights for a violent toothache – it is a powerful narcotic – to make him sleep and forget his pain, he told me. I – I – don't know how I could have done it; I – I was not conscious of doing it; but somehow I must have put the drops instead of the cordial into his brandy, for he has fallen into a deep sleep, from which I am unable to awaken him."
"Thank Heaven, it is no worse!" sobbed Miss Margaret. "I – I was afraid some terrible accident had happened."
While he was speaking, Sally had run into the corridor and made the pretense of listening to the valet's dilemma, while Antoinette stood back in the shadow laughing to herself at the strange way fate or fortune or luck, or whatever it was, had played into her clever hands.
This was, indeed, an unexpected dilemma. Following the valet into her brother's apartments, she found Andrew's statement indeed true – her brother was in a sound sleep, from which all their efforts were futile to awake him.
"There is nothing else to be done but to go down without him," she said at length in despair, turning to Sally. "The effect of the potion ought to wear off in an hour or so, then he can join the guests."
The entrance of Miss Margaret and the bride created quite a sensation; but when the former explained the ludicrous mistake which caused the doctor's temporary absence from them, their mirth burst all bounds, and the very roof of the grand old mansion shook with peal after peal of hearty laughter.
So the fun and merriment went on until he should join them, and the happy, dazzling, beautiful young bride was the petted queen of the hour.
Old Mrs. Gardiner was greatly disappointed because her beautiful daughter-in-law did not wear the famous family diamonds, but when Sally slipped up to her and whispered that she had forgotten, in her excitement over Jay's mishap, to don them, the old lady was mollified.
The evening ran its length, and ended at last. Midnight had come, giving place to a new moon, and in the wee sma' hours the festive guests had taken their departure, each wishing with a jolly little laugh, to be remembered to their host when he should awake. The lights were out in the magnificent drawing-room and in the corridor.
Young Mrs. Gardiner was at last in her own boudoir, in the hands of Antoinette.
It was generally late in the morning when those pretty blue eyes opened. But it was little more than daylight when Antoinette came to her couch, grasped hurriedly the pink-and-white arm that lay on the lace coverlet, saying, hoarsely:
"You are wanted, my lady. You must come at once. Master is worse; that is, he is sleeping more heavily than ever. Miss Margaret did not leave his side all night, Andrew tells me, and she says the nearest doctor must be sent for. I thought it would look better if you were at his bedside, too, when the doctor came."
"You did quite right to awaken me, Antoinette," replied young Mrs. Gardiner. "Get me my morning robe, and slippers to match, at once, and take my hair out of these curl-papers. One can not appear before one's husband's relatives without making a careful toilet and looking one's best, for their Argus eyes are sure to take in any defects. I hope my husband will not have a long sickness or anything like that. I can not endure a sick-room. I think I should go mad. Hurry, Antoinette! Arrange my toilet as quickly as possible. I shall go into the grounds for a breath of fresh air before I venture into the heated atmosphere of that room, in which no doubt the lamps are still burning."
"I would advise you not to go into the grounds, my lady," replied Antoinette, quietly.
"Why, I should like to know?" asked young Mrs. Gardiner, very sharply.
"I have a reason for what I say," returned Antoinette; "but it is best not to tell you – just now."
"I demand to know!" declared her mistress.
"If you must know, I suppose I may as well tell you now as at any other time, my lady," replied Antoinette; "though the news I have to tell may make you a trifle nervous, I fear. I was just out in the grounds gathering roses for your vase, when, to my astonishment, I heard my name called softly, but very distinctly, from the direction of a little brook which runs through the grounds scarcely more than a hundred feet from the hedge where the roses grew that I was gathering. I turned quickly in that direction. At first I saw no one, and I was about to turn away, believing my ears must have deceived me, when suddenly the tall alder-bushes parted, and a man stepped forth, beckoning to me, and that man, my lady, was – Mr. Victor Lamont!"
CHAPTER XLIX
Sally Gardiner grew deathly pale as Antoinette's words fell upon her ear. Had she heard aright, or were her ears playing her a horrible trick?
"Mr. Victor Lamont is in the grounds, my lady, hiding among the thick alder-bushes down by the brook, and he vows he will stay there, be it day, week, month, or year, until he gets an opportunity to see and speak with you."
"You must manage to see him at once, Antoinette, and give him a message from me. Tell him I will see him to-morrow night – at – at midnight, down by the brook-side. I can not, I dare not, come before that, lest I might attract the attention of the inmates of the house. If – if he should question you about my affairs, or, in fact, about anything, make answer that you do not know to all inquiries – all questions. Be off at once, Antoinette. Delays are dangerous, you know."
As soon as she found herself alone, young Mrs. Gardiner turned the key in the lock, and flew at once to her writing-desk. Antoinette had laid several letters upon it. The letters – the writing upon two of which seemed rather familiar to her – were from the gentlemen who had loaned her the money a short time before at Newport. One stated that he should be in that vicinity at the end of the week, asking if she could find it convenient to pay part of the loan he had made to her when he called upon her. The other letter stated that the writer would be obliged if she could pay the money to his daughter when it became due. "She is a great friend of Miss Margaret Gardiner's," he went on to state, "and has decided to accept an invitation to spend a fortnight at the mansion, and would arrive there the following week."
Sally Gardiner tore both letters into shreds, and cast them from her with a laugh that was terrible to hear.
"I shall trust my wit to see me safely through this affair," she muttered. "I do not know just how it is to be done, but I shall accomplish it somehow."
There was a tap at the door. Thrusting the letters quickly in her desk, she closed the lid, securely locked it, and put the key in the pocket of her dress.
She was about to say "Come in," when she suddenly remembered that she had fastened the door. When she opened it, she found Andrew, her husband's valet, standing there with a very white, troubled face.
"I am sorry to hurry you, my lady," he said in a tremulous voice; "but master seems so much worse we are sore afraid for him. Miss Margaret bids me summon you without a moment's delay."
"I shall be there directly," replied the young wife; and the valet wondered greatly at the cool way in which she took the news of her husband's serious condition.
"Those pretty society young women have no hearts," he thought, indignantly. "She married my poor young master for his money, not for love; that is quite evident to me."
Young Mrs. Gardiner was just about to leave her boudoir, when Antoinette returned.
"You saw him and delivered my message?" said Sally, anxiously.
"Oh, yes, my lady," returned the girl.
"Well," said Sally, expectantly, "what did he say?"
"He was raving angry, my lady," laughed Antoinette. "He swore as I told him all; but at length he cooled down, seeing that his rage did not mend matters. 'Take this to your mistress, my good girl,' he said, tearing a leaf from his memorandum-book, and scribbling hastily, upon it. Here it is, my lady."
As she spoke, she thrust a crumpled bit of paper into young Mrs. Gardiner's trembling hand.
There was no date; the note contained but a few lines, and read as follows:
"I shall be by the alder-bushes at midnight to-morrow night, and shall expect you to be equally punctual. No subterfuge, please. If for any reason you should fail to keep your appointment, I shall call upon you directly after breakfast the following morning, and shall see you —at any cost!
"Lamont."
She would not give herself any worry until she stood face to face with Victor Lamont; then some sort of an excuse to put him off would be sure to come to her.
There was another tap at the door. It was Andrew again, standing on the threshold, shaking like an aspen leaf.
"Pardon me, my lady; Miss Margaret begs me to urge you to make all possible haste."
"I am coming now," she answered; and, looking into her face, Andrew marveled at the indifferent expression on it, and at the harshness of her voice.
She followed him without another word. A frightened cry broke from her lips as she hastily crossed the room, and bent over the couch on which her husband lay.
He was marble white, and looked so strange, she thought he was certainly dying.
"We have sent for all the doctors about here. They are expected every moment," said Miss Margaret, touching her sister-in-law on the arm. "I thought that in a consultation they would find some way to save him if it lay in human power."
Sally looked up in affright into the calm white face beside her. She tried to speak, but no sound fell from her cold, parched lips.
When the great doctors came, they would find that Jay Gardiner had not taken the mild sleeping draught which poor Andrew believed he had administered to him by mistake; but, instead, a most powerful drug, an overdose of which meant death. Yes, they would find it out, and then – She dared not think what would happen then.
"I have been looking carefully into this affair," continued Miss Margaret, in that same calm, clear voice, "and I have reason to believe there is something terribly wrong here. I have often taken the same drops for sleeplessness that Andrew says has been administered to my brother, and it never produced that effect upon me, and on several cases I have taken an overdose."
"I – I – suppose – the – the – drug – acts differently upon different constitutions," answered young Mrs. Gardiner.
Her eyes seemed fairly glued upon the still, white face lying back on the not whiter pillow. She could not have removed her gaze if her very life had been at stake.
"I have a strange theory," continued Miss Margaret, slowly, and in that terribly calm voice that put Sally's nerves on edge. "A very strange theory."
Margaret Gardiner saw her sister-in-law start suddenly and gasp for breath, and her face grew alarmingly white as she answered, hoarsely:
"A theory of – of – how your brother's condition came about!" she gasped, rather than spoke the words. "Then you – you – do not – believe – Andrew's – statement?"
"No!" replied Margaret Gardiner, in that same high, clear, solemn voice that seemed to vibrate through every pore of Sally's body. "I think Andrew fully believes what he states to be the truth; but he has not deceived. He has been most cleverly fooled by some one else."
"What – what – makes you – think that?" cried Sally, sharply. "Those are strong words and a strange accusation to make, Miss Margaret."
"I am quite well aware of that," was the slow reply.
And as Jay's sister uttered the words, Sally could feel the strong gaze which accompanied them burn like fire to the very depths of her beating heart.
What did Margaret Gardiner suspect? Surely, she would never think of suspecting that she – his bride – had any hand in Jay's illness? There would be no apparent reason.
"Shall I tell you whom I suspect knows more of this than – "
"Doctor Baker, miss," announced one of the servants; and the coming of the famous old doctor put a stop to all further conversation for the present, much to Sally's intense relief.
CHAPTER L
Young Mrs. Gardiner looked fearfully and eagerly into the face of the stern-countenanced old doctor who had just entered and had stepped up hurriedly to his patient's bedside.
He had heard from the messenger who had come for him just what had occurred to Jay Gardiner, and he was greatly puzzled.
"The toothache drops you speak of were compounded by me," he declared, "and they certainly do not act as you describe. Ten drops would produce balmy sleep. An overdose acts as an emetic, and would not remain a moment's time on the stomach. That is their chief virtue – in rendering an overdose harmless. I am confident the mischief can not lie with the toothache drops."
Doctor Baker had entered and gone directly to the bedside of his patient, as we have said, simply nodding to Miss Margaret, and not waiting for an introduction to the bride. The moment his eyes fell upon his patient, he gave a start of surprise.
"Ah," he muttered, "my case of instruments! Hand them to me quickly. This is a case of life or death! Not an instant's time is to be lost. I dare not wait for the coming of the consulting physicians who have been sent for."
"What are you about to do?" cried Sally, springing forward, her eyes gleaming.
"I am about to perform a critical operation to save my patient's life, if it be possible. Every instant of time is valuable."
"I say it shall not be done!" cried young Mrs. Gardiner. "I, his wife, command that you do not proceed until the rest of the doctors sent for arrive and sanction such an action!"
The old doctor flushed hotly. Never, in all the long years of his practice, had his medical judgment ever been brought into question before, and at first, anger and resentment rose in quick rebellion in his heart; the next instant he had reasoned with himself that this young wife should be pardoned for her words, which had been uttered in the greatest stress of excitement.
"My dear Mrs. Gardiner – for such I presume you to be – your interference at this critical moment, attempting to thwart my judgment, would – ay, I say would– prove fatal to your husband. This is a moment when a physician must act upon his own responsibility, knowing that a human life depends upon his swiftness and his skill, I beg of you to leave all to me."
"I say it shall not be!" cried Sally, flinging herself across her husband's prostrate body. "Touch him at your peril, Doctor Baker!"
For an instant all in the apartment were almost dumbfounded. Miss Margaret was the first to recover herself.
"Sally," she said, approaching her sister-in-law slowly, her blue eyes looking stealthily down into the glittering, frenzied green ones, "come with me. You want to save Jay's life, don't you? Put down that knife, and come with me. You are wasting precious moments that may mean life or death to the one we both love. Let me plead with you, on my knees, if need be, to come with me, dear."
Sally Gardiner stood at bay like a lioness. Quick as a flash, she had thought out the situation.
If Jay Gardiner died, she would be free to fly with Victor Lament. If she refused to allow the doctor to touch him, he would die, and never discover the loss of the diamonds, or that she had borrowed money from his friends on leaving Newport.
If he died, she would be a wealthy woman for life, and she would never be obliged to look again into the face of the handsome husband whom she hated – the husband who hated her, and who did not take the pains to conceal it in his every act each day since he had married her.
Ah! if he only died here and now it would save her from all the ills that menaced her and were closing in around her. This was her opportunity. Fate – fortune had put the means of saving herself in her hands.
Even the good doctor was sorely perplexed. He saw that young Mrs. Gardiner was a desperate woman, and that she meant what she said.
"Will nothing under Heaven cause you to relent?" cried Margaret, wringing her hands, her splendid courage breaking down completely under the great strain of her agony. "My poor mother lies in the next room in a death-like swoon, caused by the knowledge of her idolized son's fatal illness. If he should die, she would never see another morning's sun after she learned of it. One grave would cover both."
CHAPTER LI
We must now return to Bernardine, dear reader.
"Oh, I was mad – mad to remain a single instant beneath this roof when I discovered whose home it was!" she moaned, sinking down on the nearest hassock and rocking herself to and fro in an agony of despair. "I – I could have lived my life better if I had not looked upon his face again, or seen the bride who had won his love from me. I will go, I will leave this grand house at once. Let them feast and make merry. None of them knows that a human heart so near them is breaking slowly under its load of woe."
She tried to rise and cross the floor, but her limbs refused to act. A terrible numbness had come over them, every muscle of her body seemed to pain her.
"Am I going to be ill?" she cried out to herself in the wildest alarm. "No, no – that must not be; they would be sure to call upon him to – to aid me, and that would kill me – yes, kill me!"
Her body seemed to burn like fire, while her head, her feet, and her hands were ice cold. Her lips were parched with a terrible thirst.
"I must go away from here," she muttered. "If I am going to die, let it be out in the grounds, with my face pressed close to the cold earth, that is not more cold to me than the false heart of the man to whom I have given my love beyond recall."
Like one whose sight had suddenly grown dim, Bernardine groped her way from the magnificent boudoir out into the corridor, her one thought being to reach her own apartment, secure her bonnet and cloak, and get out of the house. She had scarcely reached the first turn in the corridor, ere she came face to face with a woman robed in costly satin, and all ablaze with diamonds, who was standing quite still and looking about her in puzzled wonder.
"I – I beg your pardon, miss," said the stranger, addressing Bernardine. "I am a bit turned around in this labyrinth of corridors."
What was there in that voice that caused Bernardine to forget her own sorrows for an instant, and with a gasp peer into the face looking up into her own?
The effect of Bernardine's presence, as the girl turned her head and the light of the hanging-lamp fell full upon it, was quite as electrifying to the strange lady.
"Bernardine Moore!" she gasped in a high, shrill voice that was almost hysterical. "Do my eyes deceive me, or is this some strange coincidence, some chance resemblance, or are you Bernardine Moore, whom I have searched the whole earth over to find?"
At the first word that fell from her excited lips, Bernardine recognized Miss Rogers.
"Yes," she answered, mechanically, "I am Bernardine Moore, and you are Miss Rogers. But – but how came you here, and in such fine dress and magnificent jewels? You, whom I knew to be as poor as ourselves, when you shared the humble tenement home with my father and me!"
Miss Rogers laughed very softly.
"I can well understand your bewilderment over such a Cinderella-like mystery. The solution of it is very plain, however. But before I answer your question, my dear Bernardine, I must ask what you are doing beneath this roof?"
"I am Mrs. Gardiner's paid companion," responded Bernardine, huskily.
"And I am Mrs. Gardiner's guest, surprising as that may seem. But let us step into some quiet nook where we can seat ourselves and talk without interruption," said Miss Rogers. "I have much to ask you about, and much to tell you."
"Will you come to my apartment?" asked Bernardine.
The little old lady nodded, the action of her head setting all her jewels to dancing like points of flame.
Bernardine led the way to the modestly furnished room almost opposite Mrs. Gardiner's, and drawing forward a chair for her companion, placed her in it with the same gentle kindness she had exhibited toward poor, old, friendless Miss Rogers in those other days.
"Before I say anything, my dear," began Miss Rogers, "I want to know just what took place from the moment you fled from your father's humble home up to the present time. Did you – elope with any one?"
She saw the girl's fair face flush, then grow pale; but the dark, true, earnest eyes of Bernardine did not fall beneath her searching gaze.
"I am grieved that you wrong me to that extent, Miss Rogers," she answered, slowly. "No, I did not elope. I simply left the old tenement house because I could not bear my father's entreaties to hurry up the approaching marriage between the man I hated – Jasper Wilde – and myself. The more I thought of it, the more repugnant it became to me.
"I made my way down to the river. I did not heed how cold and dark it was. I – I took one leap, crying out to God to be merciful to me, and then the dark waters, with the awful chill of death upon them, closed over me, and I went down – down – and I knew no more.
"But Heaven did not intend that I should die then. I still had more misery to go through; for that was I saved. I was rescued half drowned – almost lifeless – and taken to an old nurse's home, where I lay two weeks hovering between life and death.
"On the very day I regained consciousness, I learned about the terrible fire that had wiped out the tenement home which I had known since my earliest childhood, and that my poor, hapless father had perished in the flames.
"I did my best to discover your whereabouts, Miss Rogers, at first fearing you had shared my poor father's fate; but this fear proved to be without foundation, for the neighbors remembered seeing you go out to mail a letter a short time before the fire broke out.
"I felt that some day we should meet again, but I never dreamed that it would be like this."
"Have you told me all, Bernardine?" asked Miss Rogers, slowly. "You are greatly changed, child. When you fled from your home, you were but a school-girl, now you are a woman. What has wrought so great a change in so short a time?"
"I can not tell you that, Miss Rogers," answered Bernardine, falteringly. "That is a secret I must keep carefully locked up in my breast until the day I die!" she said, piteously.
"I am sorry you will not intrust your secret to me," replied Miss Rogers. "You shall never have reason to repent of any faith you place in me."
"There are some things that are better left untold," sobbed Bernardine. "Some wounds where the cruel weapons that made them have not yet been removed. This is one of them."
"Is love, the sweetest boon e'er given to women, and yet the bitterest woe to many, the rock on which you wrecked your life, child? Tell me that much."
"Yes," sobbed Bernardine. "I loved, and was – cruelly – deceived!"
"Oh, do not tell me that!" cried Miss Rogers. "I can not bear it. Oh, Heaven! that you, so sweet, and pure, and innocent, should fall a victim to a man's wiles! Oh, tell me, Bernardine, that I have not heard aright!"
Miss Rogers was so overcome by Bernardine's story, that she could not refrain from burying her face in her hands and bursting into tears as the girl's last words fell on her startled ear.
