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author: nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> 2025-04-21 10:21:36 -0700
committer: nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> 2025-04-21 10:21:36 -0700
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+<!DOCTYPE html>
+<html lang="en">
+<head>
+    <meta charset="UTF-8">
+    <title>
+      Her evil genius; or, Within love's call | Project Gutenberg
+    </title>
+    <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover">
+    <style>
+
+body {
+    margin-left: 10%;
+    margin-right: 10%;
+}
+
+    h1,h2 {
+    text-align: center; /* all headings centered */
+    clear: both;
+}
+
+p {
+    margin-top: .51em;
+    text-align: justify;
+    margin-bottom: .49em;
+}
+
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+.p4       {margin-top: 4em;}
+.p6       {margin-top: 6em;}
+
+hr {
+    width: 33%;
+    margin-top: 2em;
+    margin-bottom: 2em;
+    margin-left: 33.5%;
+    margin-right: 33.5%;
+    clear: both;
+}
+
+hr.tb   {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;}
+hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;}
+@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} }
+hr.r5  {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;}
+ 
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+
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+    margin-left: auto;
+    margin-right: auto;
+}
+
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+
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+    position: absolute;
+    left: 92%;
+    font-size: small;
+    text-align: right;
+    font-style: normal;
+    font-weight: normal;
+    font-variant: normal;
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+/* Images */
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+    height: auto;
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+
+.figcenter {
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+    text-align: center;
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+
+/* Poetry */
+/* uncomment the next line for centered poetry */
+/* .poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} */
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+.poetry .stanza   {margin: 1em auto;}
+.poetry .verse    {text-indent: -3em; padding-left: 3em;}
+
+/* Transcriber's notes */
+.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA;
+    color: black;
+    font-size:small;
+    padding:0.5em;
+    margin-bottom:5em;
+    font-family:sans-serif, serif;
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+/* Illustration classes */
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+.x-ebookmaker .illowp52 {width: 100%;}
+
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+.large { font-size: 150%; }
+.small { font-size: 75%; }
+
+    </style>
+</head>
+<body>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75930 ***</div>
+
+<figure class="figcenter illowp52" id="cover" style="max-width: 121.9375em;">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+
+<p class="center"><b>NEW EAGLE SERIES NO. 1118</b></p>
+
+<h1><span class="smcap">Her Evil
+Genius</span></h1>
+
+<p class="center"><i>By</i> <span class="large"><b>Adelaide Stirling</b></span>
+</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p class="center"><b>POPULAR COPYRIGHTS</b></p>
+</div>
+
+<h2 style="margin: 0">New Eagle Series</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><b>PRICE, FIFTEEN CENTS</b></p>
+
+<p class="center"><b>Carefully Selected Love Stories</b></p>
+
+<p class="center"><b><i>Note the Authors!</i></b></p>
+
+
+<p>There is such a profusion of good books in this list, that it
+is an impossibility to urge you to select any particular title or
+author’s work. All that we can say is that any line that contains
+the complete works of Mrs. Georgie Sheldon, Charles Garvice,
+Mrs. Harriet Lewis, May Agnes Fleming, Wenona Gilman, Mrs.
+Alex McVeigh Miller, and other writers of the same type, is
+worthy of your attention, especially when the price has been
+set at 15 cents the volume.</p>
+
+<p>These books range from 256 to 320 pages. They are printed
+from good type, and are readable from start to finish.</p>
+
+<p>If you are looking for clean-cut, honest value, then we state
+most emphatically that you will find it in this line.</p>
+
+
+<p class="center"><i>ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT</i></p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<table>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Queen Bess</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">2</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Ruby’s Reward</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">7</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Two Keys</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">9</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Virginia Heiress</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">12</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Edrie’s Legacy</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">17</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Leslie’s Loyalty</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(His Love So True)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">22</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Elaine</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">24</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Wasted Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(On Love’s Altar)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">41</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Heart’s Desire</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(An Innocent Girl)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">44</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">That Dowdy</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">50</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Ransom</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Paid For)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">55</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Thrice Wedded</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">66</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Witch Hazel</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">70</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sydney</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(A Wilful Young Woman)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">73</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Marquis</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">77</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Tina</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">79</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Out of the Past</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Marjorie)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">84</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Imogene</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Dumaresq’s Temptation)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">85</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lorrie; or, Hollow Gold</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">88</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Virgie’s Inheritance</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">95</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Wilful Maid</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Philippa)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">98</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Claire</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(The Mistress of Court Regna)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">99</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Audrey’s Recompense</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">102</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sweet Cymbeline</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Bellmaire)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">109</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Signa’s Sweetheart</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Lord Delamere’s Bride)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">111</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Faithful Shirley</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">117</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">She Loved Him</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">119</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">’Twixt Smile and Tear</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Dulcie)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">122</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Grazia’s Mistake</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">130</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Passion Flower</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Madge)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">133</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Max</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">136</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Unseen Bridegroom</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">138</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Fatal Wooing</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">141</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lady Evelyn</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">144</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Dorothy’s Jewels</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">146</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Magdalen’s Vow</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">151</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heiress of Glen Gower</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">155</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Nameless Dell</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">157</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Who Wins</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">166</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Masked Bridal</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">168</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Thrice Lost, Thrice Won</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">174</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Guardian Angel</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">177</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A True Aristocrat</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">181</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Baronet’s Bride</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">188</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Dorothy Arnold’s Escape</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">199</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Geoffrey’s Victory</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">203</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Only One Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">210</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Wild Oats</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">213</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heiress of Egremont</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">215</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Only a Girl’s Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">219</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lost: A Pearle</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">222</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Lily of Mordaunt</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">223</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Leola Dale’s Fortune</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">231</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Earl’s Heir</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Lady Norah)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">233</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Nora</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">236</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Humble Lover</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(The Usurper; or, The Gipsy Peer)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">242</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Wounded Heart</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Sweet as a Rose)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">244</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Hoiden’s Conquest</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">250</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Woman’s Soul</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Doris; or, Behind the Footlights)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">255</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Little Marplot</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">257</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Martyred Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Iris; or, Under the Shadows)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">266</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Welfleet Mystery</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">267</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Jeanne</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Barriers Between)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">268</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Olivia; or, It Was for Her Sake</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">272</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">So Fair, So False</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(The Beauty of the Season)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">276</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">So Nearly Lost</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(The Springtime of Love)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">277</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Brownie’s Triumph</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">280</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Dilemma</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(For an Earldom)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">282</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Forsaken Bride</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">283</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">My Lady Pride</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Floris)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">287</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Lady of Darracourt</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">288</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sibyl’s Influence</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">291</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Mysterious Wedding Ring</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">292</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">For Her Only</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Diana)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">296</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heir of Vering</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">299</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Little Miss Whirlwind</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">300</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Spider and the Fly</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Violet)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">303</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Queen of the Isle</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">304</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Stanch as a Woman</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(A Maiden’s Sacrifice)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">305</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Led by Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">Sequel to “Stanch as a Woman”</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">309</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heiress of Castle Cliffs</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">312</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Woven on Fate’s Loom, and The Snowdrift</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">315</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Dark Secret</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">317</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Ione</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(Adrien Le Roy)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">318</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Stanch of Heart</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">322</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Mildred</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">326</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Parted by Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">327</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">He Loves Me</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">328</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">He Loves Me Not</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">330</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Aikenside</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">333</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Stella’s Fortune</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">(The Sculptor’s Wooing)</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">334</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Miss McDonald</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">339</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Heart’s Queen</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">340</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Bad Hugh. Vol. I.</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">341</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Bad Hugh. Vol. II.</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">344</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Tresillian Court</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">345</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Scorned Wife</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">346</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Guy Tresillian’s Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">347</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Eyes of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">348</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Hearts of Youth</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">351</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Churchyard Betrothal</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">352</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Family Pride. Vol. I.</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">353</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Family Pride. Vol. II.</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">354</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Love Comedy</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">360</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Ashes of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">361</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Heart Triumphant</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">367</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Pride of Her Life</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">368</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Won By Love’s Valor</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">372</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Girl in a Thousand</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">373</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Thorn Among Roses</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">Sequel to “A Girl in a Thousand”</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">380</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Double Life</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">381</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Sunshine of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">Sequel to “Her Double Life”</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">382</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Mona</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">391</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Marguerite’s Heritage</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">399</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Betsey’s Transformation</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">407</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Esther, the Fright</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">415</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Trixy</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">440</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Edna’s Secret Marriage</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">449</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Bailiff’s Scheme</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">450</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Rosamond’s Love</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">Sequel to “The Bailiff’s Scheme”</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">451</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Helen’s Victory</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">456</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Vixen’s Treachery</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">457</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Adrift in the World</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">Sequel to “A Vixen’s Treachery”</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">458</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When Love Meets Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">464</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Old Life’s Shadows</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">465</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Outside Her Eden</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">Sequel to “The Old Life’s Shadows”</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">474</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Belle of the Season</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">475</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love Before Pride</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Harriet Lewis</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">Sequel to “The Belle of the Season”</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">481</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Wedded, Yet No Wife</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">489</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lucy Harding</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">495</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Norine’s Revenge</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">511</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Golden Key</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">512</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Heritage of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">Sequel to “The Golden Key”</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">519</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Magic Cameo</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">520</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heatherford Fortune</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td colspan="2"></td><td class="tdl" colspan="2">Sequel to “The Magic Cameo”</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">525</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sweet Kitty Clover</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">531</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Better Than Life</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">534</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lotta, the Cloak Model</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">542</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Once in a Life</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">543</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Veiled Bride</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">548</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">’Twas Love’s Fault</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">551</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Pity—Not Love</td><td class="tdr">By Laura Jean Libbey</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">553</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Queen Kate</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">554</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Step by Step</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">557</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">In Cupid’s Chains</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">630</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Verdict of the Heart</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">635</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Coronet of Shame</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">640</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Girl of Spirit</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">645</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Jest of Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">648</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Gertrude Elliott’s Crucible</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">650</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Diana’s Destiny</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">655</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Linked by Fate</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">663</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Creatures of Destiny</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">671</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When Love Is Young</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">676</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">My Lady Beth</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">679</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Gold in the Gutter</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">712</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love and a Lie</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">721</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Girl from the South</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">730</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">John Hungerford’s Redemption</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Georgie Sheldon</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">741</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Fatal Ruby</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">749</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heart of a Maid</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">758</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Woman in It</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">774</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love in a Snare</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">775</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">My Love Kitty</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">776</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">That Strange Girl</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">777</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Nellie</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">778</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Miss Estcourt; or Olive</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">818</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Girl Who Was True</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">826</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Irony of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">896</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Terrible Secret</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">897</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When To-morrow Came</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">904</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Mad Marriage</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">905</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Woman Without Mercy</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">912</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">One Night’s Mystery</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">913</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Cost of a Lie</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">920</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Silent and True</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">921</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Treasure Lost</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">925</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Forrest House</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">926</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">He Loved Her Once</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">930</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Kate Danton</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">931</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Proud as a Queen</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">935</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Queenie Hetherton</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">936</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Mightier Than Pride</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">940</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heir of Charlton</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">941</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">While Love Stood Waiting</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">945</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Gretchen</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">946</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Beauty That Faded</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">950</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Carried by Storm</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">951</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love’s Dazzling Glitter</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">954</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Marguerite</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">955</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">When Love Spurs Onward</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">960</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Lost for a Woman</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">961</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His to Love or Hate</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">964</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Paul Ralston’s First Love</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">965</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Where Love’s Shadows Lie Deep</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">968</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Tracy Diamonds</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">969</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">She Loved Another</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">972</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Cromptons</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">973</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Husband Was a Scamp</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">975</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Merivale Banks</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">978</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The One Girl in the World</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">979</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">His Priceless Jewel</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">982</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Millionaire’s Daughter and Other Stories</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">983</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Doctor Hathern’s Daughters</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">984</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Colonel’s Bride</td><td class="tdr">By Mary J. Holmes</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">988</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Ladyship’s Diamonds, and Other Stories</td><td class="tdr">By Charles Garvice</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">998</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Sharing Her Crime</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">999</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Heiress of Sunset Hall</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1004</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Maude Percy’s Secret</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1005</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Adopted Daughter</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1010</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Sisters of Torwood</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1015</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Changed Heart</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1016</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Enchanted</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1025</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Wife’s Tragedy</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1026</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Brought to Reckoning</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1027</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Madcap Sweetheart</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1028</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">An Unhappy Bargain</td><td class="tdr">By Effie Adelaide Rowlands</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1029</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Only a Working Girl</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1030</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Unbidden Guest</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1031</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Man and His Millions</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1032</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Mabel’s Sacrifice</td><td class="tdr">By Charlotte M. Stanley</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1033</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Was He Worth It?</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1034</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Her Two Suitors</td><td class="tdr">By Wenona Gilman</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1035</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Edith Percival</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1036</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Caught in the Snare</td><td class="tdr">By May Agnes Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1037</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Love Concealed</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1038</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Price of Happiness</td><td class="tdr">By Mrs. Alex McVeigh Miller</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1039</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Lucky Man</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1040</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">A Forced Promise</td><td class="tdr">By Ida Reade Allen</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1041</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Crime of Love</td><td class="tdr">By Barbara Howard</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1042</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">The Bride’s Opals</td><td class="tdr">By Emma Garrison Jones</td></tr>
+<tr><td class="tdr">1043</td><td class="tdc">—</td><td class="tdl">Love That Was Cursed</td><td class="tdr">By Geraldine Fleming</td></tr>
+</table>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2>HER EVIL GENIUS;</h2>
+<p class="center"><b>OR,</b></p>
+<p class="center large"><b>Within Love’s Call</b></p>
+<p class="p6 center small">BY</p>
+<p class="center">ADELAIDE STIRLING</p>
+<p class="center small">
+Author of “A Forgotten Love,” “Love and Spite,”<br>
+“A Sacrifice to Love,” etc.</p>
+<p class="p2">&nbsp;</p>
+<figure class="figcenter illowe5" id="i1">
+  <img class="w100" src="images/i1.jpg" alt="">
+</figure>
+
+<p class="center p4">STREET &amp; SMITH CORPORATION<br>
+PUBLISHERS<br>
+79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York<br>
+</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span></p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<div class="bbox" style="margin: 0 30%;">
+<p class="center">
+Copyright, 1899<br>
+By STREET &amp; SMITH</p>
+<hr class="r5">
+<p class="center">Her Evil Genius</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="p6 center">(Printed in the United States of America)<br>
+<br>
+All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign<br>
+languages, including the Scandinavian.<br>
+</p>
+</div>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="HER_EVIL_GENIUS">HER EVIL GENIUS.</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p class="center">
+<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. THE CONVENT PRELUDE.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. A FRIENDLESS FUGITIVE.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. THE WHEELS OF FATE.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. THE LOVELY ANDRIA.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. HER EVIL GENIUS.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. LORD ERCELDONNE MARKS THE KING.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. FIRST BLOOD TO ERCELDONNE.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. A WOMAN’S DIARY.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. ON BOARD THE YACHT.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. THE HOUSE BY THE SEA.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. TWO WARNINGS.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. THE HAUNTING EYES.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. THE PATTERING FOOTSTEPS.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. THE EYES OUTSIDE THE JALOUSY.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. A STRANGE POWER.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. IN THE WOODS OF PARADISE.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. OLD SINS AWAKENED.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. DOUBTING THOMAS.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. TRUSTED TOO LATE.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. STRANGERS.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. BEHIND THE CYPRESS BOUGHS.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. THE CRY IN THE STARLIGHT.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. THE MADMAN.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. THE LAUGH IN THE DARK.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. A SEALED PACKET.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. THE HAND OF FATE.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. A MURDER IN THE DARK.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX. THE DEATH-TRAP.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. MOTHER FELICITAS.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI. HOPELESS AND HELPLESS.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII. AN OLD PHOTOGRAPH.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII. A DREAM OF VENGEANCE.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV. A LITTLE GOLD.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV. THE BEGINNING OF THE JUDGMENT.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI. “A BOY!”</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII. THE DARK HOUSE.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII. DREAMS.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX. TAKEN UNAWARES.</a><br>
+<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL. THE EXPIATION OF MOTHER FELICITAS.</a><br>
+</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE CONVENT PRELUDE.</p>
+
+
+<p>The summer holidays had begun and the great convent
+school was deserted, all its pupils gone but two, who were
+in the alcove belonging to the elder of them, and, as if that
+breakage of rule were not enough, were seated on the
+small white bed which was counted a crime to rumple.</p>
+
+<p>The elder girl was eighteen, and after to-day convent
+rules would concern her no more, for that very afternoon
+she was going out into “the world” to earn her own living
+as a governess. She was wild with excitement, and would
+have been enraptured with the foretaste of liberty had it
+not been for the child who clung to her, sick and exhausted
+with stormy crying.</p>
+
+<p>She looked down on her pityingly, and the reverend
+mother could have told you Andria Heathcote was not
+given to compassion. Her red-brown hair grew too
+strongly on her forehead for that; her full rose lips were
+too heavy. Yet something in the very strangeness of the
+girl who clutched her had caught at her hard young heart.</p>
+
+<p>For Beryl Corselas was only a child, and young for her
+years at that. It seemed to Andria that the sins of eleven
+years old were too seriously taken when they were considered
+crimes, and yet her goblin ways were enough to provoke
+a saint—or Sister Felicitas!</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl, look here,” repeated Andria; “don’t cry any
+more. I’ll write to you. I’m not going very far away.”</p>
+
+<p>The child lifted her face from the girl’s shoulder. It
+was a curious face, with something almost vacant about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span>
+it, yet what the lack was no one could quite say. She had
+extraordinary eyes, strangely and uncannily beautiful, so
+light a brown as to be almost yellow, tawny golden under
+the heavy eyelashes, that were black as ink. The warm
+whiteness of her cheeks was blurred with crying, paled
+with real despair, and the startling crimson of the childish
+lips had been hard bitten to check the sobs that might be
+heard.</p>
+
+<p>She pushed away the long cloud of straight hair that
+was not black nor brown, but dusky, a cloud of darkness
+with no color to be named, from her face, and spoke with
+sullen, unchildlike contempt.</p>
+
+<p>“You won’t write!” Her eyes were like burned-out
+coals. “You’ll mean to, but you won’t. You’re always
+trying to save other people’s feelings outside, but inside
+you never care. You’ll forget!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll try not to,” said Andria, with a sudden pang. Was
+she really what Beryl said? Did her hatred of giving
+pain really make her more cruel in the end? She kissed
+the wet cheek.</p>
+
+<p>“If I do forget, if I am like that, will you promise me
+something? Remember that I don’t mean to forget, and
+that I don’t, really. Think to yourself it’s just my way,
+and that some day you’ll see me again. Will you try,
+Beryl?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s no use my trying anything without you—in the
+house with Sister Felicitas!”</p>
+
+<p>“Keep out of her way, then! Why are you always getting
+into her black books?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because she hates me. I’m never myself with her.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are with Mother Benedicta!”</p>
+
+<p>“I might as well be comfortable with the statue in the
+chapel! I see about as much of her.”</p>
+
+<p>She clung suddenly to the arm that enwrapped her.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, it’s you I want—you!” she gasped. “If I’m going
+to be good it will be for you. Who else do I like? Just
+you and animals—and I haven’t any of them except my
+rabbits. And I hate, hate, hate Sister Felicitas!”</p>
+
+<p>A shadow, tall, slight, and angular, fell on them.</p>
+
+<p>Andria looked up with a start, since convent tradition<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span>
+was still strong in her, and she was breaking rules openly.
+Sister Felicitas stood in the doorway, black against the
+sunlit passage.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve no right to be here, Beryl Corselas,” her voice
+seemed to float out into the shaded whiteness of the alcove,
+calm and cool as frost. “Go away and do your weeding.
+Your garden is not a pretty sight.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria felt the quick shudder in the child’s body.</p>
+
+<p>“Please, sister,” she said, “let me stay. Andria is going
+away.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have nothing to do with that. But while I am in
+charge of the kitchen-garden you must do your share
+there. Go at once,” she said very softly, but the downcast
+eyes were angry. Andria Heathcote could not be reprimanded,
+and Sister Felicitas longed to do it; she was always
+making that hateful child rebel against lawful authority.
+But to-morrow she would be gone.</p>
+
+<p>“A few minutes more or less cannot matter to you. Go
+to your weeding,” she said scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>Beryl Corselas sat up, her slim, childish body quivering.</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t go!” her voice low and passionate. “You know
+there are no weeds for me to dig up. I hate gardens.
+I wish everything in yours would die, or else choke you
+when you ate it—nasty, nasty old onions!” she cried, in a
+transport of temper.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl!” Even Andria, who hated Sister Felicitas, was
+aghast.</p>
+
+<p>“You can do your weeding or not, that is for you
+to say,” said Sister Felicitas, whose face was quite untroubled,
+but she was trilling her fingers against her black
+habit. “But it is for me to say what will happen to you
+if you disobey.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t care what you do to me!”</p>
+
+<p>“No?” Andria knew that far-off sound in Sister Felicitas’
+voice; there was not a girl in the convent whose
+nerves did not twitch when she heard it. “Then I suppose
+I can send those rabbits of yours to market! It will be
+time for rabbit-soup soon.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, no!” The child’s voice was dreadful in its
+wild scream of supplication. If there had been any one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span>
+in the empty corridor they must have hurried to the sound
+of it.</p>
+
+<p>“Not my bunnies. I love them. They’re truly people.
+You—you couldn’t be so wicked!”</p>
+
+<p>“If you can talk such nonsense about your rabbits, the
+sooner they are gone the better,” said Sister Felicitas icily.
+“No—get up, child! You will tear my habit.”</p>
+
+<p>For Beryl Corselas was on the floor, clutching at the
+immaculate black folds of the sister’s robe.</p>
+
+<p>“You won’t take them away—say you won’t, sister!”
+She paid no attention to the hand that tried to disengage
+hers. “I’ll do anything, I’ll work in the garden, I’ll say
+I’m sorry——” The miserable voice made a listener start,
+but Sister Felicitas only drew her skirts away deftly.</p>
+
+<p>“That you will be obliged to do,” she said.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll beg your pardon now,” sobbed Beryl, “only please
+don’t send my rabbits to market! I’ll go and weed—I
+truly will.”</p>
+
+<p>“You make an idol of senseless things. You will be
+better without them.” In “the world” the tone would
+have been called cruel.</p>
+
+<p>The child jumped to her feet, her wild, dusky hair
+streaming, her face white and furious.</p>
+
+<p>“If you take them away I’ll kill you!” she cried out,
+shaking and gasping. “I hate you! You make me wicked,
+and then punish me. I——” She stopped as if something
+had turned her to stone.</p>
+
+<p>In the doorway stood the reverend mother. Mother
+Benedicta, who had never been known to visit an alcove,
+who was high above the girls and their rulers, was in
+front of her, a gracious, stately figure in her black habit
+and white bands. There was a curious look on her beautiful,
+placid face, enough to stop the tongue even of Beryl
+Corselas in a temper. Yet she was not looking at the
+child, but at Sister Felicitas.</p>
+
+<p>“I think breaking rules and sorrow at Andria’s going
+has made some one a little hysterical this morning! Is
+that it, Beryl? Come to me, my child;” and she put an
+arm round the sinner, who stood petrified, as if at the
+sight of a saint from heaven. Mother Benedicta’s cool<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span>
+fingers felt the hot throbbing of the child’s lax hands, and
+her face grew sterner.</p>
+
+<p>“You are sorry for your rudeness to the good sister, is
+it not so, Beryl? Yes!” at the dumb nod that was a lie
+of despair. “I will see to the child, then, sister. I know
+you are busy. Sister Ignatia is waiting for you. She
+needs your help.”</p>
+
+<p>Sister Felicitas’ face grew white.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, reverend mother,” she returned quietly, but her
+face was not quiet as she left the alcove. To have Andria
+Heathcote incite that hideous child to mutiny was bad
+enough, but to have Mother Benedicta set aside her authority
+was worse. And there had been that in the face
+of the reverend mother that told Sister Felicitas that even
+rancorous hatred must go softly.</p>
+
+<p>“Reverend mother, my rabbits!” gasped the culprit, as
+the sister’s steps died away. “You won’t let her take
+them?”</p>
+
+<p>“It was not meant, Beryl! The good sister thought
+to touch your heart; that is a hard little heart, is it not?”
+she said, smiling. “But run away now and wash your
+face. Then you can go to my room and wait there quietly
+till Andria and I come to you. I will ask Sister Felicitas
+to let her onions wait for to-day.”</p>
+
+<p>But there was no smile on her face as the child slipped
+away, radiant with gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>“It was a pity you had her here, Andria!” she said.
+“But it is the holidays, after all—only it provokes Sister
+Felicitas, who is always so conscientious.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria Heathcote was brave enough, but, as a child
+had been quick to see, she was too apt to let things go, to
+put a good face on ugly matters. Yet now that curious
+politeness of hers left her.</p>
+
+<p>“You heard, reverend mother,” she said quickly. “That
+goes on all day long. The child is growing sullen and
+strange.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you mean that, Andria?” Mother Benedicta was
+not apt to talk so freely, but Andria was going away.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, reverend mother! I knew you did not know.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span>
+And it is true”—flushing at her own boldness—“that the
+sister dislikes Beryl.”</p>
+
+<p>Mother Benedicta sighed.</p>
+
+<p>“The child is difficult, they tell me, and incorrigibly
+idle;” but she said it chiefly to hear the answer.</p>
+
+<p>“She can speak Spanish, and she works hard at that,
+though no one knows but Sister De Sales. School is bad
+for her; the girls bully her. Could you not send her home
+sometimes, dear mother?”</p>
+
+<p>“She has no home; did you not know? She has been
+here since she was a baby. We do not even know who
+she is.” For once the Mother Superior had forgotten
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>“Sister Felicitas knows,” said Andria quietly.</p>
+
+<p>“What! Why do you say that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because”—once launched, Andria was floating well—“I
+heard her tell the child that she came by her mad temper
+honestly—was her mother over again.”</p>
+
+<p>Mother Benedicta stood dumb.</p>
+
+<p>She had heard more than she liked of Sister Felicitas’
+methods this morning, but this passed all bearing.</p>
+
+<p>“You must be mistaken,” she said, for the honor of the
+convent, but Andria saw her breathing quicken. “But I
+have been wrong. After this I will see more of the child.
+I promise you that much.”</p>
+
+<p>To think of Sister Felicitas having known all this time
+the parentage of Beryl Corselas, which had been the mystery
+of the quiet convent lives, was too much even for
+her charity. It seemed but yesterday since a woman,
+wild, despairing, with the hand of death already on her,
+had brought the child to the convent. She had been told
+that no baby of three years could be taken, and had sunk
+into the nearest chair as if her last hope were gone.</p>
+
+<p>Mother Benedicta had pitied her, seeing her so ill.
+(Afterward she had altered her mind about the illness;
+it might easily have been furious disappointment that had
+sapped her strange visitor’s strength.) She left the room
+to tell a lay sister to bring wine and food, but, though she
+was absent only a minute, when she returned the woman
+was gone. The window was open on the garden, and in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span>
+the room sat a pale, yellow-eyed child, in exquisite clothing
+that was marked “Beryl Corselas.”</p>
+
+<p>That was all. Never from that day to this had they
+been able to find out anything more, and only that the convent
+charter provided for certain charity pupils could the
+rules have been stretched to keep the waif.</p>
+
+<p>Yet kept she was, and now a curious thrill made the
+superior tremble. Yet it was impossible. It had been
+six months before Sister Felicitas joined the community,
+and the woman who had flung the child on their charity
+had been pink-cheeked, golden-haired. Sister Felicitas
+was pale and dark. And still the Mother Superior——
+She forced herself to speak.</p>
+
+<p>“I do not know what is to become of the child,” she
+said. “As you say, she is very strange. I never hear any
+good of her.”</p>
+
+<p>“There is good in her. But Sister Felicitas has a repulsion
+for the child. You can see it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope not,” said the good woman; but her own
+thoughts frightened her. “You had better write to her,
+Andria. I will see she gets your letters.”</p>
+
+<p>She had quite forgotten the reason that had brought
+her to Andria Heathcote’s alcove in this sudden suspicion
+that had sprung up. She looked unseeingly at the girl
+who had spoken out against all her secretive nature. Yet
+Andria’s was not an ordinary face, and worth the
+watching.</p>
+
+<p>Cleverness and self-reliance were written on the forehead,
+from which the hair was brushed back convent
+fashion; cleverness again in the wide eyebrows; perfect
+bravery was in the full-lipped mouth, and dogged patience
+in the clean chin; but the warm blue eyes had a veiled
+something in them that told of reluctance to speak out,
+of a temper that would hold out a right hand to an enemy
+and stab effectually with the left. Not from treachery,
+but because things were more easily done in that manner.</p>
+
+<p>Mother Benedicta had meant to speak of these things,
+but she turned away with only one sentence as she signed
+to the girl to follow her.</p>
+
+<p>“You will have to fight your own battles, Andria,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span>
+she said, almost absently. “Do it well and openly, as you
+fought Beryl’s to-day. And do not forget that this convent
+life has been but the prelude to your warfare.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria bowed her head for the blessing that followed.
+She thought the reverend mother looked strangely old
+and worn to-day.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">A FRIENDLESS FUGITIVE.</p>
+
+
+<p>Mother Benedicta, careful of many things, had meant
+to add the mystery of Beryl Corselas to her burden, but
+fate was stronger than she, who had been for so many
+years the capable head of the community.</p>
+
+<p>Two days after Andria’s departure, death had called
+her very quietly. Unanointed, unshriven, and with the
+questions she had meant to ask Sister Felicitas yet unspoken,
+the good mother had followed the beaten pathway
+the saints have left toward heaven.</p>
+
+<p>It was Sister Felicitas who found her dead in her bed,
+but it was not prayer for the superior’s soul that sent the
+sister to her knees, but utter thankfulness that a stumbling-block
+was gone from her path. Beryl Corselas
+heard the news in stony silence. Only once had the reverend
+mother ever noticed her; and yet she felt alone.
+Andria, though the weeks went by, never wrote, just as
+the child had prophesied; for with all her unchildlike
+wisdom she never thought that it was Sister Felicitas who
+opened the letters now, and that Andria’s promise was
+well kept for a year.</p>
+
+<p>After that year perhaps she dared not write to the convent—who
+shall say? But her letters ceased. And Sister
+Felicitas rose steadily in the community, till five years
+after Mother Benedicta’s death she had been made
+Mother Superior.</p>
+
+<p>Only Beryl Corselas knew what the story of those
+five years had been. Years of injustice, of petty tortures—Mother
+Benedicta was not cold in her grave before the
+rabbits were killed by the cook before the very eyes of
+their shrieking, fainting owner—years of slow warping
+of a child’s spirit till, now a girl of sixteen, she was deceitful
+from fear, silent from sullen hopelessness, and
+almost ugly from misery.</p>
+
+<p>She sat alone in an empty class-room, where her face<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span>
+was but a white spot in the growing dusk of evening.
+The heavy lids drooped over her tearless eyes; she was
+past crying now, as she was past all childish things.
+Mother Benedicta would have turned in her grave had
+she seen how those years of pain had changed the child’s
+looks, how tall and ill-nourished she was in her out-grown
+convent uniform. Sister Felicitas punished by
+depriving the growing girl of proper food; she was under
+sentence now where she sat in the empty class-room, and
+heard the clatter of other hungry girls in the refectory.
+And hunger—and something else—was making her as
+dangerous as a wild beast.</p>
+
+<p>“If I don’t get out of this I’ll kill her!” she thought,
+clasping and unclasping her strong young hands. “And
+I know she doesn’t mean me ever to get out. She means
+to make me a nun, and it’s no use my telling Father
+Parker I’ve no vocation, for he’s deaf, and never hears
+what I say. She can take her time and yell at him. If I
+shout in the confessional I only get punished. The other
+nuns would stand up for me—some of them. But, though
+this might keep me from being made a novice, they
+couldn’t keep me from being made a lay sister; for it’s
+in the charter that charity girls must pay the convent back
+for their keep, somehow. And she’ll never let me go out
+into the world to do it. I—I’d be willing to starve if I
+could only get away!”</p>
+
+<p>She got up and went to the window, heedless of bumps
+against the empty forms. But outside there was nothing
+to see but a November garden, cold and barren, and a
+homeless cat, crossing it furtively.</p>
+
+<p>The girl watched the miserable creature with the painful
+sympathy she felt for all animals. In the dusk she
+saw it leap nimbly to the top of the high wall and disappear.
+The convent rebel did not even know what was
+on the other side of that wall; but she knew too well
+what was on this side. A lay sister’s life, spent in the
+kitchens; in scrubbing and killing fowls. She shuddered.
+And Mother Felicitas’ eye was always on her; always
+with the same threat, the same malice.</p>
+
+<p>She peered into the twilight. The stray cat was gone.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span>
+Beryl Corselas stretched her young body, stiff with long
+sitting, just as the cat itself might have done before it
+started on its furtive journey. But when a sad-eyed nun
+came and let her out of the locked class-room her face was
+as sullenly vacant as usual. There was no one, not even
+Mother Felicitas, full of self-conceit at her realized ambition,
+to know that the girl’s pulses were playing a wild
+tune that night, and that the childhood that had sat so
+strangely on her had fallen from her like a garment.</p>
+
+<p>Unnoticed, Beryl slipped up to bed before the other
+charity pupil; and undressed in their joint alcove. Pale
+and too slender in her white cotton nightgown, she passed
+under the white sheet that separated her cubicle from the
+next. It belonged to a rich West Indian girl, and in a box
+on the table were sovereigns, as she had known there
+would be. Without a pang of hesitation Beryl Corselas
+took two in the glimmer of the floating night-light. Then
+she lifted the sheet and slipped under it, back to her own
+alcove, just in time. As she put the coins noiselessly into
+her bed, the stout girl who shared the alcove came in.
+She whispered sharply, though talking was forbidden:
+“You’re to be moved to-morrow; sent to the kitchen with
+Sister Agnes. I wish I was you; you’ll get enough to
+eat. Sister Agnes is just sweet.”</p>
+
+<p>Beryl raised her eyebrows significantly. The sister in
+charge was clapping her hands as a signal for the girls
+to say their evening prayers. But there were no prayers
+on the lips of one girl on her knees.</p>
+
+<p>Would it ever be quiet? Would the tossing of the girls
+never cease as they twisted on their narrow beds? It
+seemed years to Beryl, lying motionless in hers, longing
+for the dead middle of the night to bring quiet breathing
+to the hundred sleepers round her. A wakeful devil
+seemed to be making his rounds among them; girl after
+girl turned, tossed, and coughed; not till long after midnight
+was the hush settled and complete, and not till then
+did Beryl Corselas, whose blood was thumping with suspense
+and determination, stir on her hard bed.</p>
+
+<p>Absolutely without sound she sat upright and looked
+about her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span></p>
+
+<p>Her business would have been more easily done in
+the dark, but in every alcove there floated a wick in
+an inch of oil buoyed up in a jar full of water. In the
+glimmering, unearthly light the white sheets separating
+the alcoves seemed to stir, but she was used to that;
+and to have put out the dull light would have waked
+the heavy sleeper in the next bed.</p>
+
+<p>Barefooted, Beryl slipped to the cold floor, dressed,
+put her stolen money in her pocket, and, shoes in hand,
+crept through the wide corridor between the double row
+of alcoves.</p>
+
+<p>Even the sister in charge heard no sounds as the light
+step passed, and not a soul stirred in the convent as the
+girl stole down the wide, polished stairs in her stocking
+feet. In the lower flat it was dark; she was forced to
+keep one hand stretched out at arm’s length before her
+as she crept inch by inch through the silent house.</p>
+
+<p>The schoolroom door creaked as she opened it, but
+once inside floods of moonlight made her way clear. She
+looked round the room, where she had sat a hungry
+prisoner from afternoon school till bedtime, and in her
+fierce exultation at leaving it forgot she was still hungry.</p>
+
+<p>The window-fastening gave under her strong fingers,
+the sash moved easily, without noise, and, as quietly as
+the cat she had watched that evening, the girl dropped
+in the frozen grass outside. Skirting the wall she
+moved quickly to the very spot where the cat had crossed
+it, from a kind of superstition that she must climb over
+at no other place; and there mounted it with an effortless
+spring just as the other wandering thing had
+done.</p>
+
+<p>With a laugh she slipped to the ground and put on
+the shoes she carried. For the cat had been a good
+pilot. She stood on a road that she knew led to London,
+and she stretched out her arms in a kind of rapture.</p>
+
+<p>She was free from Mother Felicitas at last!</p>
+
+<p>But a waving shadow that came suddenly before her
+eyes killed her hasty joy. It was only the shadow of
+a bare, crooked tree, but its outline was like an arm<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span>
+outstretched to catch her. “Beryl, you fool!” she thought.
+“By morning you will be caught again unless there are
+miles between you and the convent.”</p>
+
+<p>She began to run, and not a girl in the school could
+run like her. Yard by yard she got over the hard road,
+till by daylight she found herself in the suburbs of the
+great city, though where she did not know. She walked
+on soberly till she came to a baker’s shop, and there
+bought a roll. There were early risers about, but no
+one looked at her, for her plain hat and coat were
+ordinary enough. Presently she grew bold enough to
+stop at a street coffee-stall.</p>
+
+<p>The hot, strong stuff did her good, and as she paid
+for it she began to think coherently for the first time
+since she had gone to bed.</p>
+
+<p>“I must have a place, and I haven’t one!” she pondered
+as she walked on refreshed. “If I could get to Andria
+I should be all right, but——” Her face grew too grim
+and bitter for her years. Andria had long ago forgotten
+her, and more pertinently still the child of five years ago
+had never known where the grown-up girl had gone.
+There was no hope in Andria. Without a friend in
+the world the girl walked quietly on her aimless way.
+Long before her absence was discovered—for her stout
+roommate merely thought stolidly that Beryl Corselas
+had got up early, and said nothing about her empty
+bed till breakfast-time—she was adrift like many
+another waif in the interminable streets of London.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE WHEELS OF FATE.</p>
+
+
+<p>Two days afterward a shabby little chemist in a shabby
+shop on the Euston road looked carelessly at a strange
+customer.</p>
+
+<p>A tall, big-boned girl in a frock too short for her
+had asked for laudanum for a toothache. She looked
+half-wild with pain—or despair; the chemist never
+thought of the latter, and he sold her some. Her face
+grew livid as he pushed a book toward her and requested
+her to sign her name. It was always done, he
+explained, when people bought poisons.</p>
+
+<p>With a frightened hand she scrawled something, but
+the name was so outlandish to the man as he stood
+peering at it that he never noticed with what haste his
+customer had left the shop. She had been a fool ever
+to have entered it, yet in the new and dreadful knowledge
+that two days of London streets had crowded on her
+she had felt there was nothing else to do.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps her very innocence of the world had made
+her pass scatheless through perils she only half-realized,
+but that half was enough. Behind her lay the convent,
+and she could never go back to that; round her were
+the awful streets where policemen kept hurrying her
+on, where people passed her indifferent-eyed, or else—Beryl
+Corselas turned sick and faint at the thought of
+those other people who had not passed on.</p>
+
+<p>Her money had been stolen, all but the few shillings
+she had put in the bodice of her frock, and when that
+was done, what in all the world remained to her? No
+one had ever liked her. She had no belief in any one’s
+charity, and the girl’s heart swelled as she answered
+her own question.</p>
+
+<p>“Only just death,” she thought, fingering the little
+bottle of laudanum she had been forced to sign her name
+to get, “or Mother Felicitas—for she’ll trace me by it.
+Well, I’d rather die out here than live in the convent.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span>
+She had walked on aimlessly enough, and looked up
+to see that she was in front of the entrance to a railway-station,
+where people kept going in and out. With a
+sudden inspiration she followed a woman inside, and
+stood behind her at the booking-office. A train was
+waiting, ready to leave; on the carriage nearest her
+was a sign, “For Blackpool.” She knew where that was,
+even with her badly learned geography lessons; it was
+a long way off from London and Mother Felicitas.</p>
+
+<p>She bought a second-class ticket, imitating the woman
+in front of her. At least she could rest in the train,
+since her tired feet would hardly carry her. She had
+no money at all when she had paid for her ticket, and
+could just manage to follow a porter and stumble into
+the carriage marked Blackpool.</p>
+
+<p>To her joy no one else entered it, and the train started.</p>
+
+<p>The cushioned carriage was rapture to her tired body,
+but before she stretched herself out on its scant luxury,
+she drained the little bottle the chemist had sold her,
+and threw it away. Then she curled herself up and
+slept; at first uneasily, with the unaccustomed sounds of
+the moving train in her dreams, and then heavily, as people
+sleep themselves to death.</p>
+
+<p>There was no peace in the world for such as she, and
+at sixteen Beryl Corselas had found it out. She had
+tried to get employment, but the women at whose doors
+she had knocked wanted no such unearthly-looking nursemaids,
+and she could do nothing else. To sleep her life
+away was all she could do, and there would be plenty
+of time for that between London and Blackpool.</p>
+
+<p>Remorselessly as the wheels of fate the train rolled
+on, and dreamlessly the girl slept.</p>
+
+<p>If she had known two things she might have flung
+the laudanum from her like a snake. The first was
+that Andria Heathcote had been longing for her, yet not
+daring to visit her in the safe refuge of the convent.
+The second, that if Mother Felicitas had known that
+her missing pupil had gone to Blackpool she would have
+laughed silently, since that was the only part of England<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span>
+Beryl Corselas had to avoid. But in ignorance
+and despair the girl had drugged herself till a creepy
+warmth was in her veins, and so, bound and helpless,
+would deliver herself to a worse than Mother Felicitas,
+unless Death, like a quiet friend, called her before such
+things could be.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE LOVELY ANDRIA.</p>
+
+
+<p>While Beryl Corselas slept like a dead girl in the flying
+railway-carriage, a woman sat in a beautiful house
+in London and wondered why she was remembering
+the strange goblin child. “I’m not fit to think of her
+or the convent, either,” she thought grimly. “Who
+would believe that I was ever Andria Heathcote, or
+brought up in a convent school?”</p>
+
+<p>She got up and looked at herself in a glass with an
+insight that does not come to happy women. The world
+had taught her that a woman with a clear skin and good
+teeth has it in her own hands to be beautiful, but it was
+something else that had taught her to build up her beauty
+as an architect builds a palace for a king.</p>
+
+<p>Her red-brown hair was but a little ruddier than in
+convent-days. She had been too wise to dye it; her
+round, young face was chiseled into the firmness of a
+delicate cameo by the sure hands of Love and vain
+longing; her brave mouth was more scornful, more self-reliant
+than of old, and the queer, veiled look was gone
+from her blue eyes. They were bold, under the lashes
+and brows she had learned to darken, and the head
+that had bowed so easily to rebuke was set proudly now.
+And yet there was little for Andria Erle to glory in.
+She turned sharply from the glass. “Bah! The child
+would not know me, nor I her,” she thought. “I wonder
+why I am thinking of her. Oh, I’m nervous—nervous!
+And I have no real cause, I can’t have any.”</p>
+
+<p>But the step with which she paced the room was not
+that of a woman at ease. She was sick with a terror
+that grew daily, and she knew it. She looked at the
+magnificence about her, not indifferently, as she had been
+wont to look, but like a woman who holds luxury by
+a frail tenure and fears to lose it. Yet the luxury
+of the place came last to her troubled mind. There
+was more than that to lose; love and trust, that might<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span>
+go any day. To keep her thoughts away from that she
+tried to remember the convent, but it only maddened
+her.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Mother Benedicta!” she said to herself. “You
+knew too little about the world when you sent me to a
+house like lady Parr’s. You and the good sisters
+would have thought that house hell on earth from the
+things that went on there. I might have, too, if I hadn’t
+been a blind fool. But I wouldn’t go back. I’ve been
+happy; I’ve had my day—and I’ve no reason to think
+it’s done yet. I know,” deliberately, “I’ve no reason!”
+and while she swore it to herself she kept listening for
+the postman’s knock.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed to thunder through the house before she
+knew it. But the servant who brought in the one letter
+that had come found his mistress sitting reading, her
+exquisite paled satin tea-gown in careful folds about her
+languid figure.</p>
+
+<p>Her heart knocked at her ribs as she took the letter;
+as the door closed behind the man she sprang to her
+feet, crushing the thin note to her breast.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, thank God!” she breathed, “thank God. I knew
+it would come. I knew he didn’t mean to throw me
+over.”</p>
+
+<p>She kissed the senseless letter like a living thing. She
+knew each line of the address—every letter was dear to
+her; yet Beryl Corselas would not have known the name
+on the envelope, which certainly was not Andria Heathcote.
+To Mother Felicitas it might not have been so
+strange.</p>
+
+<p>It was not for five minutes that Andria opened the
+letter, and when she did so she no longer thanked God
+for it.</p>
+
+<p>It was a white, haggard wretch who crawled to a
+sofa and lay there staring at the written sheet in her
+hand like one who cannot understand. Yet it was plain
+English, and began, “Dear Andria,” as letters do. But
+her face was convulsed out of all beauty as she felt those
+few sentences burning into her brain; a dreadful trembling
+took her.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I’m going to cry; and I won’t cry!” she said savagely.
+She was on her feet and across the room to where a
+stand of spirits and soda waited for a visitor who would
+never come back to that house. But though she poured
+out neat whisky and drank it, it could not stop that horrible
+trembling.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m to go. He’s done with me!” she thought. “I—that
+thanked God at the sight of his letter;” her lips
+quivered in spite of her; “who’ve been faithful for five
+years.”</p>
+
+<p>She tried to read the letter slowly and sanely, but one
+sentence in it seemed to leap to her eyes. “Of course
+you know our marriage was nonsense. The clergyman
+was never even ordained. It would not hold good anywhere,
+even in Scotland.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then what am I?” thought Andria, and, being a
+brave woman, kept in the cry. She read on mechanically.</p>
+
+<p>“The fact is I’m ruined. I haven’t got a penny left,
+and my father is nearly as bad. You have plenty of
+sense, you will see for yourself that I must give in to
+him and marry money. He will be beside himself till
+we are on our feet again and there is an heir to the
+property. He would never hear of my marrying you,
+even if our madness had not passed by this time. You
+will understand this is not a pleasant letter for me
+to write, so I will close it. I send you what money
+I can spare, but you need not expect any more, for I
+haven’t got it. The sheriff will seize the furniture to-morrow,
+but my father’s agent will take over the house
+and pay the servants. Let me have your address, like
+a sensible girl. But I know you will see reason, especially
+as you are not tied to me in any way, and the
+end would have had to come some day.”</p>
+
+<p>There was no signature, and there were two pages
+preceding what was, after all, the gist of the matter. Andria
+Heathcote, who had never been Andria Erle except
+in her own mind, crept to her sofa and lay there, her
+face buried in the silk cushions Raimond Erle had chosen
+that very spring. But now it was November, and this
+was “a last year’s nest.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span></p>
+
+<p>She bit at her arm fiercely that pain might keep
+away tears. None of Raimond Erle’s servants should
+see that the woman who had never been his wife had
+been crying in her shame and anger. She wondered how
+much they knew. All London probably knew more than
+she had done. She remembered how Raimond had had
+no friends but men, how she had gone among them
+by the nickname of “The Lovely Andria”; how some of
+them had openly thought her shameless—the remembrance
+made her writhe where she lay.</p>
+
+<p>A silver clock chimed, and she counted the sweet
+strokes.</p>
+
+<p>“Five!” Five already, and she would not sleep another
+night under this roof. The whisky had steadied her,
+helped her; she rose and looked in the glass that an
+hour ago had reflected a woman who had hope left in
+her and saw that no eye but her own would see any
+difference. Andria Erle had looked nervous; Andria
+Heathcote was only a shade paler, a little harder-eyed.</p>
+
+<p>She turned to ring the bell, and saw something on
+the hearth-rug. It was a check for ten pounds, and at
+first she would have let it lie. After five years he
+was turning her out of the house with ten pounds!
+But it occurred to her suddenly that she had no other
+money in the world.</p>
+
+<p>“It is bad to have been made a fool of, but it is
+worse to keep on being a fool,” she said, with queer
+calmness, and stooped for the check.</p>
+
+<p>Another woman would have sat down and written an
+answer to that letter, which would have cut even Raimond
+Erle. But to quarrel openly was not Andria’s
+way. If an opportunity came to repay she would repay;
+it was no use to write what he need not read unless
+he chose. Once more she turned to ring for a servant,
+and this time did not falter.</p>
+
+<p>“Send my maid to me,” she said. “I have had a
+letter from Mr. Erle. He is not returning and I am
+going away. Lord Erceldonne’s agent will pay your
+wages.”</p>
+
+<p>She spoke gently as she always did, and the servant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span>
+admired her for it; he knew, as she thought, that things
+were at an end. But he liked her, as did every one
+who had ever served her, and he kept his sympathy from
+his face.</p>
+
+<p>Her maid came as quickly as if she had been waiting
+outside the door.</p>
+
+<p>“I want you to pack for me at once, Louise, I am
+going away to-night, and I must leave you here.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, madam, you can never do without me,” said
+the girl awkwardly. She would like to go with the
+mistress who had never spoken unkindly even when she
+was displeased.</p>
+
+<p>“There is no room for you where I am going.” Andria’s
+voice was gentle still. “You need not pack my
+evening gowns. But you must hurry, Louise.”</p>
+
+<p>“Madam’s jewels, of course!” said the maid, with
+tears in her eyes. All the household but the mistress
+had known the end was coming.</p>
+
+<p>Andria turned to the windows.</p>
+
+<p>“I will see to the jewels,” she answered in a suffocated
+voice. “I will not take them.”</p>
+
+<p>The maid dared not say more. But it was well that
+Andria did not see her packing. Every gorgeous gown
+her mistress owned was in the boxes decorously covered
+with underlinen and every-day clothes by the time Mrs.
+Erle came up-stairs.</p>
+
+<p>Her jewels were spread out on the toilet-table; perhaps
+the faithful maid thought the sight of them would
+tempt her mistress to take them. But she shivered as
+the gorgeous, shining things glittered in the candle-light.
+Every one of them had meant something in the days
+when love was young; each stone held its separate insult
+now. She put them back in her jewel-case with
+averted face and ungentle hands. Diamonds and pearls,
+opals and beryls, not one would she keep; and her
+wedding-ring fell with a clink on the mass. Andria
+Heathcote had nothing to do with the baubles Andria
+Erle had loved.</p>
+
+<p>She stood up straight and fair as Louise dressed her
+in a plain black gown. For three months she had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span>
+dreading this day, fearing heavily to note the small signs
+of its approach; but now that it was here she felt curiously
+calm.</p>
+
+<p>“Tell James to call a cab,” she said, “and this is for
+you! You are a kind girl, Louise, and I have liked you.”
+She held out a long gold chain set with pearls. It was
+her own, not his; she had a right to give it away.</p>
+
+<p>But the maid was crying.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t cry, child, for me,” she said steadily, “and
+take care of the jewels till Mr. Travers, the agent, comes
+to-morrow. He will give you a receipt for them, and
+you must send it to Mr. Erle at the club.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you’ll come back, madam?” cried Louise, sobbing.</p>
+
+<p>“No. Oh! my poor Louise, cheer up. There are
+better mistresses than I’ve been.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no!” said the girl passionately, “none. What
+haven’t you done for me and my mother?” The French
+girl would have kissed Andria’s hand, but with a queer
+feeling of superstition her mistress stooped and kissed
+her cheek. It was something to have a creature to say
+farewell to; there would be none to greet her home.</p>
+
+<p>“Get the cab,” she repeated. And when the girl was
+gone she went to her writing-table. There was a photograph
+there and she stared at it. Why had she loved
+him? He was just a long-legged, haggard, gentlemanly-looking
+man, like scores of others, yet she had sold her
+soul for him.</p>
+
+<p>Her hand was on the picture to put it in the fire,
+but a sudden thought flamed in her eyes and stayed her
+hand. On the back of it was written: “Raimond to
+Andria; on their wedding-day.” She would keep it!
+The world was thick, they might never meet; but if
+they did that writing might confound his dearest plans.
+She slipped the photograph into her pocket and went
+down-stairs. The French girl, with a pang at her heart,
+watched her get into the cab and drive away.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">HER EVIL GENIUS.</p>
+
+
+<p>The train stopped with a jerk and a long jolting jar
+that startled all the passengers, and flung a solitary
+traveler from her seat in a second-class carriage.</p>
+
+<p>She lay on the floor, lax, inert as the dead; but her
+eyes were open. Where was she? What was this hard,
+narrow place, where a light burned dimly? She thought
+for one awful instant of her alcove at the convent, and
+screamed wildly; but the train was starting and the
+whistles of the engine covered it. The noise of the
+wheels reassured the drugged wits of the girl on the
+floor.</p>
+
+<p>“No; it’s not the convent—it’s the train, and I’ve
+waked up! Oh, why didn’t I die? Am I going to live
+after all that stuff?”</p>
+
+<p>She struggled up and back to her seat, dizzy and
+sick from the laudanum. She tried to think. What
+should she—what could she—do now? Life was before
+her, and not the death she had craved. Presently the
+train would stop; they would put her out into the cold
+and darkness, and she had no money for shelter or
+bread.</p>
+
+<p>“They ought to kill girls like me!” she sobbed. “What
+good has life ever been to me! And what shall I do
+if I’ve been tracked—if a telegram from Mother Felicitas
+is before me at Blackpool?”</p>
+
+<p>Every one’s hand had been against her all her life,
+and it was well for her now. For a madness of determination
+came over her.</p>
+
+<p>“They sha’n’t find me! No one shall find me,” she
+thought, clenching her hands. “I’ll hide somewhere and
+starve sooner than go back to Mother Felicitas!”</p>
+
+<p>She opened the carriage window and drank in the
+cold evening air. It drove the fumes of laudanum from
+her and stopped the headache that was rending her.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span>
+She had no reason to go to Blackpool; she could starve
+as easily in some other place. What if she got out
+the first time the train stopped, and slipped away into
+the dark? But it had been the stoppage of the train
+at Preston that had wakened her; she did not know
+there would be no pause between that and Blackpool.
+The train seemed to whirl interminably on, and she shut
+the window and lay back against the cushions; she
+would have warmth and rest as long as she could.</p>
+
+<p>Strangely enough, she felt better for that drugged
+sleep—more reasonable, more sane.</p>
+
+<p>But, think as she might, she could see nothing but a
+miserable, lingering death before her, and the death that
+had passed her by would have been easy.</p>
+
+<p>The train whistled, then stopped; the guard came and
+took her ticket.</p>
+
+<p>“Blackpool, miss,” he said to the pale girl with the
+swollen, weary eyes. The convent uniform was black
+and he thought cursorily that she was in mourning, a
+thought that served her well afterward.</p>
+
+<p>She hurried by him without answering, and stood
+for one moment in the glaring station, bewildered by the
+crowd.</p>
+
+<p>Her white face, her tawny eyes, with that strange
+vacancy about them which long years of bullying had
+brought there, were striking enough among the commonplace
+crowd that surged by her.</p>
+
+<p>A long-legged, gentlemanly-looking man, whose handsome
+face was haggard and drawn till it almost came
+to being care-worn, pulled his brown mustache as he
+stood waiting for the London train.</p>
+
+<p>“Looks as if she were in a mess!” he thought idly.
+“She might be handsome, too—it’s a pity!” and he turned
+away. It was some other fellow’s business; he had
+enough on his own hands without taking up a girl who
+stared past him till she caught his eyes on her and then
+ran with a sudden, frightened bound out of the lighted
+station.</p>
+
+<p>“The wicked flee when no man pursueth,” thought
+Mr. Erle; he was rather fond of the Bible, for amusement<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span>
+merely. And he got into his train and thought
+of other things, not too comfortably.</p>
+
+<p>He had had an exceedingly annoying interview with
+his father. After all he had done to please him, the
+elder man would scarcely listen to his question, or indeed
+speak to him.</p>
+
+<p>At a strenuous appeal for money, indeed Lord Erceldonne
+had broken out savagely:</p>
+
+<p>“You had better discover a lady who possesses it,” he
+had said roughly, unlike himself. “As for Erceldonne,
+you needn’t count on the succession to it.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?” his son stared.</p>
+
+<p>But Lord Erceldonne had recovered himself.</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing,” he returned icily, “except that every stick
+we own is mortgaged. You must forage yourself.”</p>
+
+<p>But his son had seen him crumple up a telegram that
+lay on the table. It was not those ancient mortgages
+that troubled him.</p>
+
+<p>“I wonder what the deuce it was!” he reflected now
+in the train, for distasteful as London was, it was better
+than his father’s society.</p>
+
+<p>“For a moment I thought my reverend parent was
+about to impart to me that I was not the rightful heir!”
+sneeringly. “He’s got something on his mind, but that
+would be rot! There’s been no question of it for years.”</p>
+
+<p>The strange girl had completely left his memory as
+the train reached London; indeed, she had never stayed
+there. Mr. Erle glanced at his watch as he took a cab
+at Euston. It was not eleven o’clock; he would see
+what fortune had done for him before he went—by
+George! he had forgotten. He could not show himself
+in town. There was that business of the sheriff, and
+Andria!</p>
+
+<p>“The Continent!” said he to himself. “As soon as
+possible! But first I must visit my—well, I hope he’ll
+be my banker!” He stopped the cab and got out at
+the very shop where Beryl had bought that useless
+laudanum no farther back than the morning.</p>
+
+<p>“A shabby chemist’s,” she had thought, quite unconscious
+that the drugs were but an outward show, and that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span>
+the proprietor was one of the largest book-makers in London,
+though he never attended a race. Sometimes he
+had provided Mr. Erle with sums that tided him over;
+but of late that gentleman had not been lucky. He entered
+the shop with a languid nod, and was glad to see
+the proprietor was alone.</p>
+
+<p>For once, too, he seemed to be paying some attention
+to his legitimate trade. He was studying a greasy blank-book
+that was not out of his inside office.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, Mr. Erle!” he said. “I have some money for
+you—a hundred or more.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Erle never moved a muscle, though he needed the
+money and had not expected it.</p>
+
+<p>“Right!” he returned carelessly. “What have you got
+there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Only my register, sir. By the way, could you read
+that name?” He pushed the book across the counter.</p>
+
+<p>“B. Corselas,” in an unsteady, childish hand stared Mr.
+Erle in the face. B. Corselas, and his father, neither
+to hold nor to bind! There could be nothing in it, and
+yet—Mr. Erle was startled.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” he said coolly. “Cassels, or something. Why?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, she was a slip of a thing,” dryly, “and she
+bought laudanum. She had a queer look about her—very
+light eyes!”</p>
+
+<p>“Tall, charming?” scoffingly.</p>
+
+<p>“No, Mr. Erle. Childish and frightened-looking. Will
+you have a check, or notes? They’re both here. She
+would have been handsome if she hadn’t looked hungry.”</p>
+
+<p>“Notes,” said Erle slowly. “You’ll get into trouble
+yet, Peters, with your drugs. Good night!”</p>
+
+<p>He was richer than he had been for many a day;
+but he was not thinking of that as he got into his cab
+and drove back to Euston.</p>
+
+<p>It was queer that he felt so assured that he had seen
+at Blackpool the very girl who had signed Peter’s book.
+He dismissed his cab at the Euston Hotel, but before
+he entered it he returned to the station. A few inquiries
+made him surer than ever, but the “B. Corselas” staggered<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span>
+him. It might be all right, but if, after all these
+years, it was going to be all wrong, it was no joke.</p>
+
+<p>He wrote a brief note to his father, for there was
+no sense in trusting a country telegraph office, and
+then retired to bed.</p>
+
+<p>“Paris for me!” he reflected as he put out the light.
+“If there is anything queer the farther I’m out of it
+the better. Besides, other things. But, of course, it’s
+all a silly coincidence.”</p>
+
+<p>He little knew the trouble it would have saved him
+if he had spoken kindly to that girl at Blackpool.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">LORD ERCELDONNE MARKS THE KING.</p>
+
+
+<p>On the shore of St. Anne’s, that is a day’s walking
+from Blackpool, was the wreck of a brig. Dismantled,
+gaunt in the daylight, black and gruesome at night, it
+lay canted on the beach a grim sign-post on a coast where
+the life-boat men are seldom idle.</p>
+
+<p>The lamplighter looked at it as he finished his rounds
+in the dusk.</p>
+
+<p>“’Tis said it’s haunted,” he remarked to himself, “but
+ghosts have quieter tongues than Margery! And ’tis
+the only place she’ll not rout me out of.” His conscience
+was not clear nor his legs quite reliable as he made an
+unostentatious progress over the shingle to the wreck.
+He was not drunk to his own mind, but he would be
+drunk to a certainty in the eyes of the rate-payers and
+his wife. Mr. Ebenezer Davids had no mind to be
+brought up before the vestry or the domestic tribunal.</p>
+
+<p>He scrambled on board the weather-beaten hull of the
+<i>Highland Mary</i>, and made his way below, down a companionway
+that slanted at a discomposing angle. The
+darkness of the cabin was musty, but Mr. Davids was not
+squeamish. He felt his way to a moldy locker and collapsed
+on it. Something rustled, but he cared nothing
+for rats. He only turned more comfortably and let
+the joyful slumber of semi-intoxication possess him utterly.</p>
+
+<p>The tide was rising; it lipped against the seaward side
+of the <i>Highland Mary</i> with a noise that was oddly like
+the frightened breathing of a weak creature. But there
+was no other sound till the lamplighter’s snores began
+to fill the cabin. Then came a faint rustling in the berth
+opposite him, a gasp as if a desperate resolve had taken
+away some one’s breath. The snoring kept on.</p>
+
+<p>In the dark there was a sound of cautious feet; feet
+that had no strength or weight; but if any one stole up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span>
+to the lamplighter he did not hear. In his sleep he flung
+out his arm, and it struck something that gave; something
+that was bending over him, trying to reach a red
+cotton bundle that lay between him and the wall. It was
+his supper of bread and cheese that he had not eaten,
+and the smell of the cheese, combined with the regular
+snoring, had drawn a living thing to his side.</p>
+
+<p>He started up, sobered with terror, sweating with fear.
+What had touched him in the dark? What had screeched
+in his ear?</p>
+
+<p>“The place is haunted, curse it!” he said, and was
+frightened afresh. For the instant he spoke a low moaning
+broke out at his very feet.</p>
+
+<p>The lamplighter was a little man, and not brave. In
+sheer desperation and terror he remembered that he carried
+the tools of his trade in a bag at his side, and with a
+shaking hand he lit his long wax taper. As it burned
+blue in the close cabin he recoiled.</p>
+
+<p>The place was haunted, indeed!</p>
+
+<p>What was this on the floor, like a white-faced girl,
+whose long, black hair streamed over her? No living
+woman could be so thin, could have such strange, golden
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“What—what are you? Get away!” cried the lamplighter
+wildly. He raised his foot to kick at the thing
+on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t! Oh, don’t hurt me!” The cry was human,
+utterly desolate. “I didn’t mean to steal, but I’m hungry,”
+cried the girl, with a sullen sob.</p>
+
+<p>“Hungry!” said the lamplighter stupidly, and his taper
+nearly fell in his surprise. “What are you doing here
+if you’re hungry, frightening honest folk?” He grew
+angry as he remembered how nearly she had sent him
+flying back to Margery with a bogy tale that would
+have made him a laughing-stock.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve nowhere else to go.”</p>
+
+<p>At the answer he stuck his taper upright in a convenient
+crack in the floor of the <i>Highland Mary</i>, and with
+a rough kindness lifted the girl to the locker. She was
+a threadpaper slip of sixteen or so, with the queerest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span>
+eyes he had ever seen; even the lamplighter, who was
+familiar with poverty, had never seen a human being
+so thin.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, you’re starved, lass!” he cried. “What ever
+made you come to this old hulk? You might have
+knowed there was no roast beef here. Where do you
+come from?” for his keen little eyes saw that her shoes
+were not the shoes of a tramp.</p>
+
+<p>She did not answer, except to point to the red handkerchief
+that smelled of cheese.</p>
+
+<p>“You can have it, certain!” he had a foolish lump in
+his throat as he stuffed the thick, unappetizing stuff
+into her hand. And he turned away as he saw how she
+tore at it with sharp white teeth like a dog’s. But she
+only ate a mouthful or two.</p>
+
+<p>The lamplighter took a seat on the locker and stared
+at her.</p>
+
+<p>“Come now, missus,” he said, not unkindly, “let us
+know what brought you here. You can’t stay here till
+you die—like this!”</p>
+
+<p>“Where can I go? No one wants me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go back to your friends, lass!”</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t any, I haven’t any money, either, and it
+was cold and rainy, so I came in here. I’ve been ill, I
+think. It seems a long time.”</p>
+
+<p>“By gum!” the lamplighter was nonplused. “Why
+didn’t you beg? Have you had anything to eat?” sharply.</p>
+
+<p>“I hate people, and they hate me. No one would
+give me anything. I went out in the nights and got
+water at a brook over there, and I found some bread
+one evening.” She did not say it was crusts a dog had
+despised.</p>
+
+<p>“How long have you been like this?” he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. More than a week. I’ve been ill, I——”
+Her head fell forward with a stifled groan.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re sick, now, my lass!” he said pitifully. “Come,
+your way’s with me, and I’ll take you——” He stopped;
+he dared not take her to Margery, and the only other
+place was the workhouse.</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t go to a convent,” she muttered, “I won’t!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span></p>
+
+<p>“It’s not a convent,” he said, puzzled. “Just a—well,
+there!—it’s hell on earth to my mind, but it’s better than
+this,” he broke out roughly, for the strange girl could
+not hear him; she was in a dead faint at his feet.</p>
+
+<p>Staggering, sweating, Davids managed to carry her
+up the companionway to the deck that was keeled over
+at such an angle that, burden and all, he nearly slipped
+through the broken bulwarks to the stony beach. But
+he clawed and staggered valiantly, till he had laid the
+girl, who to his mind was dying, safely on the ground.
+Then he gazed about him. What was to be done next?</p>
+
+<p>“There ain’t no choice as I can see,” remarked the
+bewildered Samaritan. “Though she’s gey and heavy
+for such a bag of bones.”</p>
+
+<p>He shouldered her like a sack of potatoes, fearful that
+she might die on his hands.</p>
+
+<p>“Here goes, and prays I that Margery don’t hear of
+it!” he muttered, and with toil and cursing, gained the
+highway, a ludicrous figure in the light of the November
+moon. His only thought was by what byway he could
+come at the workhouse, and as he puzzled at it he ran
+into a tall man in an Inverness cape who was coming
+from the opposite direction.</p>
+
+<p>“What the devil!” cried the latter furiously. “Why
+don’t you look where you’re going?”</p>
+
+<p>“Beg your pardon, my lord,” gasped the despairing
+Davids. “I couldn’t look, she’s too mortal heavy.”</p>
+
+<p>“She—who? Why, it’s you, Davids! What are you
+doing?” Lord Erceldonne stared as he had never stared
+in all his ill-spent life.</p>
+
+<p>“Going to the workhouse,” said the man wretchedly.</p>
+
+<p>“What for? And—why, it’s a woman!” said Lord
+Erceldonne, with unkind enjoyment. A squint-eyed,
+frowsy lamplighter with a romance was too delightful.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a lady, if you ask me,” retorted the man, with
+some dignity. “And I think she’s over near to dying
+for laughter.”</p>
+
+<p>“What d’ye mean?” cried Lord Erceldonne, enraged
+at the just rebuke. Ebenezer told him. But it was too<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span>
+dark for him to see how Lord Erceldonne’s hand flew
+to his pocket where two letters lay.</p>
+
+<p>“Put her down,” he ordered. “Let me look at her.”</p>
+
+<p>Ebenezer obeyed, with some relief.</p>
+
+<p>Straight and tall, her long limbs as nerveless as if
+she were dead, the girl lay on the ground. Her white
+face showed gaunt with famine in the moonlight as
+her matted, wild hair lifted in the night wind. For a
+moment both men thought her dead.</p>
+
+<p>Erceldonne knelt down by her.</p>
+
+<p>“Did she tell you her name?” His voice was thick.</p>
+
+<p>“Not she!”</p>
+
+<p>“Then she’ll never tell it now—she’s dead!” There
+was something so like recognition, exultation, in the
+pitiless words that Davids looked angrily at the speaker.
+Then he started.</p>
+
+<p>The pale, worn face bent over the girl was hers
+almost line for line; allowing for the difference between
+sixteen years and fifty.</p>
+
+<p>“My soul!” thought the lamplighter. “She is the very
+spit and image of his lordship.” He turned almost
+fiercely on the man, as if he had been his equal.</p>
+
+<p>“She ain’t dead, and she ain’t going to die, while I
+can help it. Move, my lord—and let me carry her to
+the workhouse while there’s time.”</p>
+
+<p>A stranger look than ever was on Erceldonne’s face.
+This was fate—but he had conquered fate before. He
+burst into a cackling laugh that made Davids jump;
+long and loud he laughed in the light of the moon over
+the girl who lay dying on the ground.</p>
+
+<p>“Get on with you, then, to the workhouse!” he cried
+indifferently, but as he turned away his eyes were still
+full of laughter, in strange contrast to his savage temper
+when he met Ebenezer.</p>
+
+<p>“I mark the king, it seems!” said Lord Erceldonne
+to the desolate night. “I mark the king, after all!”</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">FIRST BLOOD TO ERCELDONNE.</p>
+
+
+<p>Mother Felicitas sat in her white-walled parlor, and
+her lean face looked gray against the whitewashed background
+from which the pictured saints and martyrs
+looked down indifferent-eyed. Opposite her sat her man
+of business—for even convents have such things—and
+his matter-of-fact manner was driving her mad.</p>
+
+<p>“You traced that misguided child,” she said smoothly,
+“to Blackpool, I think you said.” She could hardly sit
+still in her chair.</p>
+
+<p>“Easily. And then to St. Anne’s. But I regret to
+say I was too late. She had been hiding on an old
+wreck there starving, for nearly a fortnight, till a lamplighter
+found her and took her to the workhouse. I
+went there, of course, but the matron, a civil-spoken
+woman, told me the girl had been taken away only
+that morning by a Mrs. Fuller, who wished to adopt
+her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did they hand her over to a strange woman without
+any references?” said the mother, moistening her dry
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>“It seems so,” he answered bluntly. “They had the
+address in Liverpool, but when I went there the caretaker
+told me Mrs. Fuller had that morning gone to
+the Continent with a young lady till the spring. Oh,
+I fancy it’s all right, reverend mother! You are too
+troubled about a good-for-nothing runaway.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” she said, and hid her hands in her sleeves that
+he might not see the trembling of them.</p>
+
+<p>“But her well-being is naturally a—sacred charge to
+me. I feel all this terribly.” She wondered while she
+spoke how she was to find out what was racking her,
+indeed.</p>
+
+<p>“Lord Erceldonne is lord of the manor at St. Anne’s—I
+suppose—he had not been interested in the sad
+case,” she observed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span></p>
+
+<p>“He was away. I heard by chance.” The lawyer had
+not got speech of Ebenezer Davids, who was too unimportant.
+“He had not been there for months.”</p>
+
+<p>Mother Felicitas’ heart gave a bound of relief.</p>
+
+<p>Then it was, after all, what it looked! Some tender-hearted
+fool had adopted the girl. She was not beaten—yet!</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes!” she said indifferently. “But did the child,
+by the way, tell her name?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly,” he answered, rather surprised; but Mother
+Felicitas, of course, had never raised her saintly eyes
+and did not see.</p>
+
+<p>That was a blow; but still Erceldonne was away and
+he would certainly never see the workhouse register.
+He was in her power still.</p>
+
+<p>“That is all, I think. Thank you,” she said calmly.
+“We must first wait till this Mrs. Fuller returns. You
+have her address? And then perhaps our stray may be
+induced to return to us. You will take some refreshment
+before you leave, Mr. Mayhew?”</p>
+
+<p>But when he was gone Mother Felicitas sat cold and
+speechless. Perhaps she saw herself excommunicated
+if the whole story of her connection with Beryl Corselas
+ever came out.</p>
+
+<p>“At least, he does not know and never shall,” she
+thought, when thought would come. “He shall fear
+me till he dies, as he has feared me this many a year. He
+shall pay, as he has always paid, to the enrichment of
+our order,” for she, of all the convent, had alone known
+the source of the roll of notes that came anonymously
+each year to her.</p>
+
+<p>She frowned thoughtfully as she began to write a
+letter, dignified and guarded. It might be months in
+reaching the man it was meant for, but it would reach
+him in the end. It informed the guardians of the workhouse
+at St. Anne’s that the lady who had so kindly
+adopted the stray child had been authorized to do so by
+her only friend, the Mother Superior of the Convent
+of St. Mary; and that it was hoped the arrangement
+would be most satisfactory.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span></p>
+
+<p>“As I hear that Viscount Erceldonne had kindly interested
+himself in the case, perhaps you would be so
+good as to let him know the ending,” the letter concluded,
+and when it was gone Mother Felicitas breathed more
+easily. Erceldonne should know that she was in keeping
+of his secret still; that the sword that hung over his
+head had not left her grasp.</p>
+
+<p>But, clever as she was, she never dreamed of Erceldonne’s
+face when the letter was forwarded to him in
+London. He was very busy, but he let his business
+stand while he chuckled over that courteous epistle.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s nothing so dangerous as being too clever,”
+he said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes; “and
+this is too good! Mrs. Fuller—oh! Mother Felicitas!
+since that’s your name now—truly you have strange
+friends, for a nun.”</p>
+
+<p>He drew from his pocket two papers, the very ones
+to which his hand had flown on the night he had met
+the lamplighter. On one was written in an uneducated
+scrawl: “The Gurl is gone Run Away.”</p>
+
+<p>It had never entered the mind of the reverend mother
+that Lord Erceldonne had no idea of paying the hush-money
+for a dead or vanished girl, or that he had established
+a spy in her very house in the shape of the
+loutish boy who carried her vegetables to market, the
+only male being in her employ. It did not even strike
+her when, in a week or so, the boy gave warning and
+returned to his natural orbit in Lord Erceldonne’s employ.
+He was used to watching ladies for his master, and this
+was only a queerer item than usual on the list.</p>
+
+<p>The other letter was the “coincidence” his son had
+thought worth telling him—a letter that would have been
+wasted but for the lamplighter. Lord Erceldonne had
+reason to laugh that night.</p>
+
+<p>He swept his correspondence into a drawer as a light
+knock came on his door.</p>
+
+<p>“Come in!” he cried, and rose punctiliously, yet mockingly,
+for he knew who his visitor was.</p>
+
+<p>A little woman, exceedingly pretty, charming mannered,
+and exquisitely dressed, stood on the threshold.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p>
+
+<p>“May I?” her voice was not quite of a piece with the
+rest of her. “Dear Erceldonne! how warm your room
+is!” she exclaimed, seating herself.</p>
+
+<p>“Bad habit!” he returned vaguely. “I suppose you’ve
+come to say you’re off?”</p>
+
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Paris!” she cried gaily. “Having accomplished your
+lordship’s wishes and played nursemaid for a month, I
+suppose I may go and amuse myself again. My kind
+godmother, as you know,” she said flippantly, “is on the
+Continent!”</p>
+
+<p>Erceldonne laughed. Truly that Mrs. Fuller whose address
+in Liverpool he had borrowed knew nothing of
+this one, nor of Beryl Corselas, either.</p>
+
+<p>“What are you going to do with that child?” she continued.
+“Not bring her here, surely. It would not be
+edifying—for Raimond!”</p>
+
+<p>Erceldonne’s middle-aged handsome face was utterly
+blank. He had no idea of telling his charming friend
+anything. She had served his purpose, and now the
+sooner he saw the last of her pretty person the better.</p>
+
+<p>“St. John’s Wood is still standing,” he remarked easily.
+“As for Raimond, no one sees less of him than I,” yet
+she had made him angry; there was no one weaker than
+Raimond about a handsome face, and he had been
+struck with this penniless girl already.</p>
+
+<p>“I hear the lovely Andria is——” she hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>“Gone the way of all flesh, I believe, in hope of further
+exaltation,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>No one would have believed how hard he had worked
+to obtain just that result as he sat looking at his visitor
+with critical admiration. She really wore wonderfully!</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you’re off! And you may have those diamonds
+you wanted, to take with you.” He had caught her
+expectant eyes. “What! Something finer?”</p>
+
+<p>“I—I would rather have that paper of mine. Please,
+Erceldonne!” she said, with an earnestness that sat ill
+on her.</p>
+
+<p>He rose, flicked her cheek lightly, and laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“Not yet, my dear Emeline; I can’t spare it.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span></p>
+
+<p>There were tears in her hard eyes as he put a velvet
+case in her hand, but she dared not implore him. She
+knew him. She had got his “fancy” for him; she had
+hoped that would have wiped off the old score; but
+the man was too careful a blackguard.</p>
+
+<p>Only one shot did the supposed “Mrs. Fuller” fire
+as she said good-by.</p>
+
+<p>“The girl is a handful, even for you. I don’t think
+you can do anything with her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps not.” Lord Erceldonne laughed in that sudden,
+unpleasant, loud cackle. “Oh, my dear Emeline!
+you have a short memory.”</p>
+
+<p>The poor, painted, little sinner started; for the blow
+was cruel. Erceldonne laughed again as she crept out
+of the room she had entered so jauntily. He knew all
+her secrets; and she had not even touched the garment’s
+hem of his.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">A WOMAN’S DIARY.</p>
+
+
+<p class="right-heading">
+“Tuesday, Dec. 7th.<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>“I never knew how much I read till now, when I have
+no books. Time hangs and hangs; writing this thing
+helps to pass it, though there is nothing to put down.
+I can’t think; I feel as if all this were a dream. This
+horrid room in Chelsea, and all those boxes left ‘to be
+called for’ at Paddington station. When they come to
+sell them—for that’s what they do with unclaimed things—they
+will wonder how the owner had the heart to
+forget them. But perhaps they won’t know each one
+of those plain dresses cost twenty pounds.</p>
+
+<p>“I wish I had what they cost; I never realized what
+it took to live. I am going to realize it well enough
+next week, when I must get something to do, or starve.</p>
+
+<p>“I write down all these sordid little sentences because
+I daren’t write the only thought that is in my mind. I
+would go mad if I let myself remember—and I can’t
+forget. Better to put down how I’ve lived for a month
+on ten pounds. I, who threw away as much of a morning
+to pass the time!</p>
+
+<p>“I pay, let me see, fifteen shillings a week here, and
+buy my food besides. I ought never to have taken this
+room, but it looked dreadful enough; how was I to
+know that I could have got one for eight in a worse
+place? I’ve been here four weeks; that disposes of five
+pounds, counting my food, though I know the woman
+cheats me. My bread and tea never cost ten shillings
+from Saturday to Saturday. There are two pounds in
+my purse, and the other three have melted. How
+many fees have I paid at registry-offices? How many
+women have looked me up and down when I asked
+for a governess’ place, have seen through me with their
+disapproving eyes? I don’t know and I don’t care—but
+I’ll care to-morrow. I’m too tired to-night from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span>
+tramping in search of an engagement and too cold in this
+room. And I’m afraid. Afraid of meeting him in the
+streets and having him pass me by. I’ve no spirit. I
+believe I could forgive him, but in an hour I may be
+just as sure I never could.</p>
+
+<p>“The loneliness of it all frightens me, too. This room,
+where no one ever comes, the streets I walk all day
+in terror of meeting some man who knows. To-morrow
+I must get work. I’m losing all my courage. I’d give
+half my life to-night just to——”</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The writing broke off, the page smeared where a quick
+hand had closed the book while the ink was wet. But
+on the other side it began again.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p class="right-heading">
+“Thursday.<br>
+</p>
+
+<p>“What have I done? And why does such a simple
+piece of business make me feel creepy, as if I had entered
+into a bargain with the devil! I’m saved! I’ve
+found a situation! But I feel something saying to me
+that I would have done better to starve in the streets.</p>
+
+<p>“It was yesterday, two days after I last wrote in this
+diary. I was standing in the register’s office and two
+women who had wanted governesses had told me I
+would not do. I felt dizzy, for I had been walking too
+far. I leaned against the wall, too tired to go home, and
+the registry-office was warm.</p>
+
+<p>“I was not noticing anything because my head swam.
+I was thinking that for women like me the world had
+only one path, and I would die before I walked on it—any
+farther. I was fighting off the horror of it when
+some one touched me on the arm.</p>
+
+<p>“It was the registry woman. She had left her desk
+and there was no one in the room but her and me,
+and a middle-aged man.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Miss Holbeach,’ she was saying—I dared not go
+back to Heathcote when I found I had no right to Erle.
+Every one knew Andria Heathcote’s story, and Holbeach
+was not noticeable—‘Miss Holbeach, don’t you hear
+Mr. Egerton speaking to you?’”</p>
+
+<p>“‘I beg your pardon,’ I said, for I was stupid.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span></p>
+
+<p>“The man handed me a chair as if I were a lady and
+not a would-be governess. I sat down and then I looked
+at him. I don’t know now what there was in his face
+that seemed familiar. I only saw it in that first glance;
+afterward I knew perfectly well that he was an utter
+stranger.</p>
+
+<p>“He was rather tall and rather dark and thin. I think
+now that if he had let it his hair would have been gray,
+but then I just saw it was black. He had a pale face,
+wrinkled and full of crow’s-feet round the eyes, and
+they were very dark, almost black. They puzzled me—their
+shape—I seemed to know that. But the way they
+looked at me was not like any eyes I know or ever
+have known. He wore beautiful clothes and had a London
+man’s manner. I mean those men you meet in the
+season who are so civil and so quiet, as if no one in the
+world was their superior and there was no occasion to
+assert themselves. I ought to know that manner by
+this time.</p>
+
+<p>“This man seemed to take me in without looking at
+me. I remembered I had on old gloves.</p>
+
+<p>“‘This lady, I think,’ he said to the registry woman,
+‘wishes to be a governess?’</p>
+
+<p>“‘Miss Holbeach? Yes, sir,’ She frowned at me to
+stand up, but I couldn’t. The man sat down by me, and
+it was then I saw how lined his face was. He looked
+fifty when you were close to him.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Miss Holbeach; thank you!’ He just glanced at
+her, but she went away as if he had pushed her. Then
+he spoke to me. He wanted a governess, or rather a
+companion, for his ward, a girl of sixteen. Lessons were
+not so much an object as being willing to go abroad.
+His ward was obliged to winter in the South. She was
+not strong. I could only stare at him; the thought of
+getting a situation and getting out of England at the
+same time nearly made me cry with joy—till I remembered
+a man like this would never take me for his ward’s
+governess.</p>
+
+<p>“‘I won’t do,’ I said. ‘You will not want me. I have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span>
+not any—any references!’ My own voice sounded so
+odd to me, as if I had never heard it before.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Oh,’ he said slowly, ‘you have no references,’ and I
+saw something so queer in his look that I could not
+answer from astonishment.</p>
+
+<p>“A woman like me, who watches a man’s face for
+sunshine or bad weather, learns little things. This man’s
+forehead, instead of contracting between the eyebrows
+with annoyance, had grown smooth with relief. I couldn’t
+understand it then, and I can’t now; but I know he was
+relieved that I had no references.</p>
+
+<p>“‘This woman knows you?’ he said.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Only because I came here for work,’ it was no use
+pretending things, and I didn’t try.</p>
+
+<p>“‘You have not always been a governess, is that it?’
+He spoke so quietly that I knew the woman at the desk
+could not hear him, but I answered out loud:</p>
+
+<p>“‘I was educated for a governess, but I have had
+no need to earn money for some years. Now I must—do
+something,’ and I couldn’t keep my lips steady.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Ah!’ he said. ‘And without a character you have
+been unsuccessful!’ But I saw he was not sorry for
+me, only thinking what to do or how to do it. For
+I knew, as I know that I sit here in this room with
+its fire and the rain on the window, that he was going
+to engage me.</p>
+
+<p>“And he did. Without a rag of reference, with only
+a few questions—and now that I come to think of it he
+never asked me where I was educated. I couldn’t have
+told him. I suppose Mother Benedicta knows how I
+ran away from Lady Parr’s with—but I won’t write
+that name.</p>
+
+<p>“But it has all come to this: I, who had no hope
+of ever getting an engagement, am to be companion to
+a girl at a salary of a hundred pounds a year. And
+I know that I’m not fit to be with any girl; the five
+pounds that he gave me for expenses looks like a fee
+from the devil as it shines on the table. For the more
+I think of it, the more sure I am that he was certain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span>
+I was a woman with a past and not anything else in
+the world.</p>
+
+<p>“But past or no past, I will write it down here in
+this book, and sign my name to it, that no girl shall
+ever learn harm from me, or anything but hatred for
+evil. My schooling has been hardly paid for; it can at
+least be useful in helping some poor girl to keep out
+of the agony I have known. There is no peace or joy
+for women like me, and I would never see any girl
+stray on the bitter road that I trod. If Mr. Egerton,
+for reasons of his own, has engaged me because I am
+what I am, he has burned his own boats. If the girl
+is as sly and sullen as he hints, I will be a better guardian
+for her than a saint like Mother Benedicta was for me.</p>
+
+<p>“I have read this over, and it seems far-fetched and
+ungrateful. The man is kind and he is giving me a
+chance to live honestly; but yet I cannot feel that in
+my heart. There is something behind his kindness.</p>
+
+<p>“Whether there is or not, I can’t get out of my bargain
+now. I am to go to Southampton to-morrow, to
+join Mr. Egerton and his ward on his yacht; a steam-yacht,
+thank goodness! I hate the sea. We are to
+go to Bermuda, of all places in the world! Not that
+I know any one there, but it seems the very end of the
+world.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Egerton has a house there, and if his ward likes
+it, we may stay till spring. It is all one to me, since I
+shall be out of England. To-morrow I must get those
+boxes at Paddington that I never meant to call for. I
+would be glad never to wear any of those clothes again,
+but I have no choice. The five pounds he gave me
+would not buy my ticket to Southampton and get me a
+governess’ outfit ‘warranted to wear’ into the bargain.</p>
+
+<p>“I write very prettily. As I look at the neat, close
+pages of this book, I wonder how they could have been
+written with so heavy a heart. The past sickens me and
+the future frightens me, though it may be with a senseless
+terror that I shall laugh at by and by.</p>
+
+<p>“The future! I laugh now when I see I have written
+that word. There is no future, Andria Heathcote,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span>
+alias Holbeach, for such women as you; if you dare
+but touch the smallest joy that may be offered you a
+hand will come from the past when you least expect it
+and snatch the new wine from your lips.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">“‘This is your solace and your reward,</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">That have drained life’s dregs from a broken shard,’</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>“Good-night, Andria, and no dreams to you!</p>
+
+<p>“May you do your work and live decently, till such time
+as your story comes out!”</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">ON BOARD THE YACHT.</p>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Egerton sat in the smoking-room of the steam-yacht
+<i>Flora</i> and reflected—it was the first day the sea
+had favored reflection—on his plans.</p>
+
+<p>They had given him more trouble than anything for
+sixteen years, but this very elaboration of detail pleased
+the man. He was a very cruel person, and a very cautious
+one, or he might have solved all his difficulties
+more easily and inexpensively. But wonderful as his
+luck had been lately, he was not out of the wood yet.
+He took up a tumbler of whisky and soda, and watched
+the mounting bubbles as if he were watching the workings
+of his own mind.</p>
+
+<p>“First,” he mused, “there was getting out of the power
+of that woman in the convent. She can never threaten
+me now, to any effect; or turn on me. I know nothing
+of any girl. She cannot say there ever was one.
+She never could have, really. Second, there were those
+letters. Raimond is an ass, but if it hadn’t been for
+him I never should have stayed at Erceldonne, or come
+across that girl with the lamplighter. That saved me
+from having to scorn all England and from having to
+trust detectives—who retire and write books. And the
+‘Mrs. Fuller’ comedy was lucky; it prevented my appearing
+in any way. And ‘Mrs. Fuller,’ having played her
+part, will never bother her head about what happened
+to her charge. If she did, she would never connect ‘Mr.
+Egerton,’ the governess, and his ward, with Lord Erceldonne’s
+queer ‘fancy.’” He laughed aloud. And then
+he thought of that diplomatic epistle of Mother Felicitas’,
+that had been so futile a lie.</p>
+
+<p>“She could dictate to me while she had the girl, but
+not when there is no girl for her to produce. Third,”
+he resumed his counting, “there was my coming on that
+woman in the registry-office. The minute I saw her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span>
+I knew she had a history, was at the end of her tether
+and in despair. No troublesome questions from a woman
+like that! She swallowed everything I told her
+because, forsooth, I had taken her without references.
+A woman who had no references and was dressed like
+a duchess was a fitter woman for my purpose than all
+the Mrs. Grundys in England. She stood being hustled
+on board and hurried off without a sight of her charge
+like a lamb, just because she didn’t care a straw what
+happened to her. I could see it in her face. And it’s
+just as well she doesn’t!” His own face contracted a
+little as at something slightly, yet unavoidably, unpleasant.
+“Well, no one will inquire about either of the
+ladies if their absence is prolonged!</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t tell her that obstinate little devil down-stairs
+wouldn’t see her, wouldn’t hear of her. She’ll find out
+soon enough what a handful she has before her, while it
+lasts. But whatever happens, no one will be able to
+root out dangerous tales of me and my tawny-eyed
+young friend. Mr. Egerton and his ward and governess
+having disappeared into space will not trouble Erceldonne.</p>
+
+<p>“It was lucky Raimond was out of the way; it would
+have suited him to rout out things he would be a fool
+to know. He might even have fancied the girl. I wonder
+what set his mind on an old story! But it doesn’t matter.
+The affair will be nothing but a lying rumor soon;
+an absolutely absurd canard.”</p>
+
+<p>He drank down the whisky and soda with small enjoyment,
+for it was flat, and the only troublesome reflection
+of the afternoon came to him.</p>
+
+<p>“Damn that fool who put Beryl Corselas and her adventures
+in the papers,” he thought angrily. “The name
+might have set people thinking. But I don’t think so.
+I stayed long enough in London to be sure there was no
+revival of stale talk. Anyhow, if there were, it doesn’t
+matter. She’s disappeared, and by —— this time she’ll
+stay disappeared!”</p>
+
+<p>He rose and looked out of the window.</p>
+
+<p>It was a deck cabin, and almost within reach of his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span>
+arm sat the governess looking vaguely out over a sea
+that was blue for the first time in the six days since
+they had left England.</p>
+
+<p>It was rough still, but the rollers had purple hollows
+instead of gray ones, and curled over blue and clear.
+But the governess was not thinking of them, and her
+employer knew it. He rang the bell.</p>
+
+<p>“Take this to Miss Holbeach,” he ordered, penciling a
+note, and then buried himself in a French novel as one
+who is luckily far away from an unpleasant business.
+That little tiger-cat had fought hard. First, against
+the departure of “Mrs. Fuller,” to whom she had taken
+a fancy; and then against the installation of a governess.
+To “Mr. Egerton” himself she maintained a stony sulkiness;
+she did not like him, and took no pains to hide
+it. She had openly accused him of tricking her about
+Mrs. Fuller, and would not listen to his plausible tale
+of explanation.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know why you bother about me!” she had
+said, staring at him. “But I don’t seem able to get away
+from you. I don’t suppose you and the governess can
+be any worse than Mother Felicitas! Yes, I know you’ve
+been good to me, but——” She had stopped, afraid to
+go on. Only anger with this strange man who had
+carried her off from Mrs. Fuller had made her so outspoken,
+and as he looked at her, she dared not go on. She
+had turned and fairly run to her cabin, where she had
+stayed ever since, too seasick even to wonder at the
+strange turn her life had taken.</p>
+
+<p>Andria took the little note the steward handed her.
+He was an Italian, as were all the ship’s company, even
+to the stewardess. None of them could speak a word
+of English, and she knew no Italian. It had come to
+her oddly that one of the few questions Mr. Egerton
+had asked her was whether she knew Italian. But she
+resolutely assured herself that the two things had no
+connection. The note was just a line.</p>
+
+<p>“Would Miss Holbeach kindly go and see Mr. Egerton’s
+ward in her cabin.”</p>
+
+<p>The writer, to be truthful, had wanted the meeting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span>
+over between the two. The die was cast now; neither
+could get away from the other, and if they had sense
+they would make friends. They would need to be
+friendly! And he grinned over his novel, wondering if
+the headstrong child would try to scratch the governess’
+eyes out. If faces meant anything, this Holbeach
+woman had managed men in her day.</p>
+
+<p>Andria was half-way down the companionway as
+he thought it; and stood presently at a closed door. She
+knocked, and the stewardess came out.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the governess was silent. She did
+not know the name of her pupil, had never heard it all
+this time; she did not know who to ask for. Then she
+laughed, for the Italian woman would not have understood
+her in any case. At the sudden lifting of the
+lowered blue eyes the maid moved aside. Andria, without
+waiting, went into the cabin.</p>
+
+<p>It was full of fresh air from an open port-hole, but
+in the berth, heedless of air or sun, lay a huddled figure
+with its face to the wall.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing could be seen of the girl but a pale averted
+cheek, and a wild mass of dusky hair neither black
+nor brown. Why did the years roll back at the sight
+of that hair, dark and lusterless, a color without a name?
+Andria was weary and unstrung, body and soul; she
+started at the uncanny, waveless hair.</p>
+
+<p>“Are you better?” she said, and her voice was oddly
+troubled. “I hope you are.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go away! I don’t want you,” said an angry, stifled
+voice from the pillows.</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of it Andria honestly gasped. Was she
+dreaming that she was back in the convent again, or—did
+she know it?</p>
+
+<p>With the quick gentleness that was of convent learning,
+she shut the door on the waiting stewardess.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl!” she cried, under her breath. “Beryl, is it
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>The figure in the berth started up, sweeping aside
+its veil of hair with a hand and arm as thin as a goblin’s.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span>
+The strangest yellow eyes in the world stared from a
+white face at the intruder.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, it’s I,” said the indifferent, insolent voice of long
+ago. “I suppose you’re his governess?”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you know me?” Andria was trembling with
+nameless joy. Could it be true that her pupil was no
+stranger, but the child she had loved long ago?</p>
+
+<p>“No!” said Beryl Corselas, with the old vacancy in
+her face. “Unless——” she paused and looked straight
+in Andria’s eyes. The next instant she was out of bed,
+taller than Andria in her long white night-dress. “Andria!”
+she cried; “Andria,” and flung her thin young
+arms around the woman in her black Redfern gown.
+“How did you come here? Where have you been all
+this time? Did he find you for me?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” said Andria helplessly. “How are
+you his ward, and when did you leave the convent?”
+She held the girl off and looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>It was Beryl Corselas, indeed, but the five years that
+had passed must have dealt hardly with her to have
+made her into a girl like this. A quick pang shot through
+Andria at the sullen hopelessness of those yellow-brown
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Tell me,” she said quickly, “did you never get my
+letters? Did Mother Benedicta never speak of me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mother Benedicta died the week you left,” the girl
+answered simply. “Sister Felicitas is reverend mother
+now.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you—how are you here?”</p>
+
+<p>The girl told her, leaving out nothing. And if Andria
+had been distrustful before, she was frightened now.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Egerton, whoever he was, had no right to Beryl
+Corselas. There was more in his adoption of her than
+appeared. Andria saw quite well why he had dispensed
+with references in engaging a governess; he did not want
+any one with a good character as a trustworthy person.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl,” she said slowly, “don’t tell him you know
+me. Let me tell him myself.”</p>
+
+<p>“I never tell him anything. I don’t like him,” she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span>
+said calmly. “But doesn’t he know? Didn’t he get
+you on purpose?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. He never even told me what your name was.
+And oh! I——” she stammered, “my name’s Holbeach
+now, don’t forget and say Heathcote!”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you married? And——” she stopped, looking
+at Andria’s black gown awkwardly.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t!” said Andria sharply. “I’ll tell you by and
+by,” for some one had knocked at the door. It was
+the stewardess, and she pointed to the open port-hole.</p>
+
+<p>“We shall be there to-morrow. We are arrived,” she
+said. The words Andria did not understand, but the
+gesture was plain enough, and the governess looked out
+of the open port.</p>
+
+<p>Something like a blue cloud was visible as the yacht
+rose and fell. Andria ran on deck. There it stood on
+the port bow, a high, blue coast, mountainous against the
+sunset. As she stood leaning over the rail she saw Egerton
+at her elbow.</p>
+
+<p>“What is that land?” she said quickly. “I did not know
+we passed any after Madeira!”</p>
+
+<p>“Neither we do. This is Bermuda,” he said carelessly.
+Not a muscle moved in the governess’ face. No yacht
+could go from Southampton to Bermuda in six days; even
+a big liner could not do it.</p>
+
+<p>“Already?” she said slowly.</p>
+
+<p>“The boat is fast,” he answered, but he turned away
+quite satisfied, for there had been no hidden meaning in
+her voice.</p>
+
+<p>Andria, left alone, never stirred.</p>
+
+<p>Where this man was taking her and Beryl, or for what
+mysterious reason, she did not know; but that high land
+that towered against the sunset was certainly not Bermuda.</p>
+
+<p>The governess’ nerves tightened sharply.</p>
+
+<p>What could this mystery round Beryl Corselas be?
+And of what evil was that lie about Bermuda the beginning?</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE HOUSE BY THE SEA.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">“The chill is in my bones.”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Calm water and the stoppage of the engines roused
+Andria from her first sleep after a wakeful night. It was
+daylight, and the sun was shining. She was on deck as
+soon as she could dress, but her very hurry made her take
+a long time.</p>
+
+<p>The yacht lay in a small, almost landlocked, bay; the
+water was exquisitely blue, shoaling to green where it
+lapped on a white beach. A keen, heavy scent of wild
+orange-blossoms came from the high shores that looked
+an impenetrable tangle of thick woods; and behind, dark
+against the rose and gold of the morning sky, rose a high
+mountain, that cast a long, threatening shadow over the
+smaller slopes that ran to its feet.</p>
+
+<p>Utterly puzzled, Andria stood staring, scarcely even
+noticing the warmth of the scented air. She turned as
+Beryl Corselas came to her side, pale and half-awake.</p>
+
+<p>“Is this Bermuda?” she said pettishly. “Thank goodness,
+for I hate the sea! But I don’t see the house.”</p>
+
+<p>“What house?” asked Andria sharply.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Egerton’s, where you and I are to spend the
+winter with him. Didn’t you know?”</p>
+
+<p>Andria was speechless, for the place looked a desert
+island.</p>
+
+<p>“Look, there he is now!” she said, with surprise. “He
+must have been on shore.” Beryl pointed to one of the
+yacht’s boats that was pulling off to them from the white
+beach. It was certainly Egerton who sat in the stern.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl,” Andria said sharply, “I hate teaching you to
+be deceitful, but mind you don’t let him know you’ve ever
+heard of me before. I don’t know why, but I don’t trust
+him!”</p>
+
+<p>“Neither do I. Yet but for him I might be back with
+Mother Felicitas.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I know, and I’d be starving. I was very poor when
+he found me. But I’ll tell you all that later on.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not all,” she thought, as she moved from the girl as
+Egerton reached the yacht; “just enough. I wonder if
+I should have told her this isn’t Bermuda! I don’t see
+what good it would have done. Whatever it is, we can’t
+get away from it or him. There’s something queer, and
+Beryl’s the key to it. But I can’t do anything till I find
+out a little more. I wonder”—looking at the pale, indifferent
+face of her charge—“if she knows more than she
+pretends. All this may be clear as daylight to her, for all
+I know.”</p>
+
+<p>For sullen reserve was written on the handsome, obstinate
+face, and Beryl had always been odd enough.</p>
+
+<p>“So,” said Egerton lightly, as he joined the governess,
+“you have been making friends with your pupil. She is
+a queer mortal.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria, looking at him, could hardly repress a start.
+She saw now what had been familiar to her in this man’s
+face. He was as like Beryl Corselas as middle age can be
+like youth, except about the mouth. Where the girl’s was
+sullen and timid, his was clear-cut, decisive. But the
+difference in the eyes was only in color; his were all but
+black; hers uncanny, tawny gold, like old wine; the shape
+of the eye-socket was exactly similar in both faces.</p>
+
+<p>A queer compunction came over Andria. Perhaps the
+man was Beryl’s father! That would explain almost
+everything—except that senseless lie about Bermuda.</p>
+
+<p>“We have made friends, yes,” she said slowly. “Miss
+Corselas tells me we are to stay here?”</p>
+
+<p>He nodded, and watched her as she looked all round
+the tree-covered hills, where no houses were to be seen.</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t see anywhere to live? My house is up
+there, a short distance from the shore,” said Egerton,
+pointing directly in front of him. “I have just been there
+to see that the servants were prepared; we are going on
+shore to breakfast. Please don’t turn pale, we will have
+some coffee before we go.”</p>
+
+<p>As in a dream, Andria Holbeach—who had so short a
+time since been Andria Erle in a very different place, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span>
+with no better right—found herself being put on shore
+like cargo. There seemed no need for such haste, and she
+saw with wonder how quickly the sailors were getting out
+of the boats not only her own and Beryl’s boxes, but packing-cases
+of stores. But she had little time to watch
+them. The instant Mr. Egerton set foot on the firm,
+white sand, he led the way up a narrow path that could
+not be seen from the yacht.</p>
+
+<p>“After me, please, Miss Holbeach,” he said, with a
+total change of manner. “And look out for the llanos.”</p>
+
+<p>What llanos were she did not know, but she soon saw.
+Great ropes of some vine were thick across the neglected
+path, a very trap for unwary feet. Sharp edges of uneven
+rock cut her boots as she hurried after Egerton.
+The man, for his age, was getting over the ground marvelously.</p>
+
+<p>High on each side of the path were wild orange-trees,
+pinky-white with blossoms and headily sweet. Scarlet
+hibiscus flaunted great flowers the size of her two hands;
+lilies sprang everywhere on the lower ground; pink and
+white heaths showered her with their tiny petals as she
+brushed past thickets of them.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t walk so fast,” said Beryl from behind her.
+“Tell him to wait.”</p>
+
+<p>Egerton looked round.</p>
+
+<p>“It is not a good place to loiter in, this low ground,”
+he observed; “the scents are heady in the early morning.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria, to her surprise, saw that his hurry was not
+put on; he was glancing round him with real apprehension.
+And what could there be to fear in a paradise of
+flowers like this?</p>
+
+<p>“Do you mean there is fever here?” she asked, catching
+up to him.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” he answered shortly; “merely what I said. The
+flowers give one headache; the place is overgrown with
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>It was to a certainty. Blossoms she had never heard
+of dangled sweet-scented tassels in her face; the soft,
+warm air was like a greenhouse. But she had no time<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span>
+to look as Egerton hurried on. The path, at times, was
+but a thread; she had to help Beryl over rocks and
+through thickets, for her head was still dizzy from the
+voyage. And all the while the anxiety on their guide’s
+face was plain; it shook Andria’s nerves in spite of
+herself.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the rough path ended among great rocks,
+higher than a man’s head. Egerton led the way through
+them, and they emerged suddenly on an open space of
+coarse turf, with great trees scattered over it. Hot and
+breathless as she was, Andria saw that the apprehension
+was gone from Egerton’s face; whatever their danger
+had been, it was past.</p>
+
+<p>“There is the house,” he said; and as they went slowly
+across the dewy grass an exclamation broke from her.</p>
+
+<p>She had expected a low wooden bungalow. The house
+that they came on from behind a screen of trees was fit
+for a palace.</p>
+
+<p>High and white it stood in the morning sun, built of
+creamy stone; all porticos and shady verandas. Green
+jalousies shaded the balconies, and behind the great pile
+the ground sloped upward, so that it stood against a
+background of flowering trees.</p>
+
+<p>Yet something in the look of the place filled Andria
+with terror. She, who feared nothing since she had nothing
+left to dread, felt her blood turn cold. The house
+looked evil; evil and wickedness lurked in it as in a nightmare;
+the orange and scarlet creepers that decked the
+lower verandas flaunted like sins in the morning sun.</p>
+
+<p>As she went up the broad, white steps and crossed
+the threshold into the hall, a shudder of unutterable fear
+took her. And yet there was nothing but luxury in the
+room she entered. She looked at Beryl. There was only
+weariness in the girl’s face as she sat down in the first
+chair she came to and looked listlessly about her.</p>
+
+<p>An empty vestibule had led into a large room, lined,
+floored, and ceiled with polished wood. Gorgeous rugs,
+gorgeous silk cushions covered the plainness of the wickerwork
+furniture; tastelessly arranged flowers were everywhere,
+and even a piano stood against the wall.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span></p>
+
+<p>Egerton, his face as calm and matter-of-fact as if he
+had never hurried them up that narrow path like a man
+in dread, pulled an old-fashioned bell-rope; a colored
+woman in spotless white stood in the doorway before the
+sound of the bell had ceased.</p>
+
+<p>“Breakfast waiting, sir,” she said, gazing at the two
+strange ladies curiously.</p>
+
+<p>He nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Here is your new mistress, Salome,” he said, turning
+to Andria. “Mind you take care of her and this young
+lady.”</p>
+
+<p>“For de Lawd’s sake, sir,” said Salome, “dat’s certain.
+Don’t I always——”</p>
+
+<p>Andria, behind Egerton’s back, knew that his eye had
+cut the woman short.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">TWO WARNINGS.</p>
+
+
+<p>All through breakfast she sat like a woman whose every
+perception is sharpened by fear. The very ordinariness
+of that meal, served faultlessly by Salome and another
+colored woman, only seemed to make her more curiously
+fearful. The lie about Bermuda, the breathless hurry up
+the path, the sudden relaxing of the vigilance in Egerton’s
+eyes as they came out on open ground, were all
+parts of a puzzle she could not fit together. She sat ready
+for anything as she ate mechanically; but even she was
+not prepared for what was coming next.</p>
+
+<p>From her seat at the table she had heard the voices of
+the sailors as they brought up the endless boxes, heard
+the thump with which each one was deposited in some
+back veranda—for solid as the house looked, inside it
+resembled a whispering gallery. A colored woman came
+in and told Egerton the things had come. Should the
+men go?</p>
+
+<p>He rose hastily, and said something from the veranda
+to the waiting sailors before he turned to the maid.</p>
+
+<p>“Give them breakfast,” he said shortly, “and then we’ll
+be off!”</p>
+
+<p>We! Even Beryl looked at him, though so far nothing
+in this strange place had seemed to rouse her from a
+dull apathy.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” Egerton said quietly, “I’m going, too. I shall
+leave you two ladies in Salome’s charge. I may be gone
+a month or six weeks. I have some business. But you
+will be quite comfortable here; it is certainly quiet;” and
+he laughed in that harsh cackle that was so out of character
+with his polished voice and manner. The sound of
+it grated on Andria’s nerves.</p>
+
+<p>“But what,” she began, “I mean, is there no one in the
+neighborhood—are we alone on this island? What shall
+I do if Miss Corselas is ill?” She was so confounded
+she could scarcely speak.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Salome can look after her. She has all sorts of medicines,”
+he returned. “Neighbors? No, you have none.
+You need fear no interruptions in either your work or
+play.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I thought there were any amount of people in
+Bermuda!” Beryl had lifted her head and was staring
+at him with those strange, tawny eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Bermuda is a big place,” he said, with a slow smile.
+“You won’t see many people, and I shall come back as
+soon as I can——” He turned suddenly to Andria, who
+sat pale and motionless, certain that his coming back
+would be a long time in arriving. “My leaving you is unavoidable,”
+he said, as if he knew her thoughts, “and also
+for the best. You will learn to know each other better
+without a third person. You may go about as you like,
+but I may as well tell you that most of the country behind
+the house is impenetrable scrub, but quite safe if you care
+to try it.” And it seemed as if his harsh laugh broke out
+against his will, so quickly did he check it.</p>
+
+<p>“The only things I warn you not to do,” he went on,
+“are to go out at night, and to go up and down to the
+shore by that short cut we used this morning. You might
+easily hurt yourselves there; slip on the rocks, trip on the
+vines; a hundred things. And Salome will show you a
+better road when you wish to bathe or sit by the sea.
+But above everything”—and he lifted his hand impressively,
+and Andria stared as if she were fascinated where she
+sat—“do not stay out after sundown, and never, never stir
+one step outside after dark.”</p>
+
+<p>There was something in his voice that carried warning
+and conviction.</p>
+
+<p>“If you take my advice,” he continued, a shade less
+earnestly, “you will not even walk on the upper verandas
+after nightfall. The lower one you must never think of
+but by daylight. The air is health itself in the day, but at
+night it gives fever. You understand?”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite,” said Andria, whiter than a sheet of paper.
+“Quite.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I will bid you good-by. It will be no time before
+you see me again. The days slip by here, you will find.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span></p>
+
+<p>He opened the door for them to leave the room, and
+shook hands with studied courtesy as they passed.</p>
+
+<p>The governess never looked at him; she was quivering
+with rage.</p>
+
+<p>Beryl was so like him that she might easily be his
+daughter, and he was leaving her here with a woman of
+whom he knew less than nothing, whom he had chosen
+because she had absolutely no qualifications. And leaving
+her, too, in a place he owned was fever-haunted. If it had
+been in Andria’s power she would have knocked him
+down, and taken Beryl at a run to the boat. But, even if
+she did this, it would avail her nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Beryl was tired out, and one of the colored women
+showed her to her room.</p>
+
+<p>Andria remained in the dining-room, absorbed in her
+reflections.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she heard the sound of voices on the veranda
+without. She went to the window, and, screened by the
+jalousy, saw Egerton and Salome.</p>
+
+<p>“So you haven’t seen anything of him lately?” Egerton
+was saying.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” answered Salome; “not a hoof of him been
+round here since summer. Dey won’t be no more accidents
+dis time. He’s gone, and—dey’s gone, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well! that’s good news,” he said slowly; and why did
+she think there was disappointment in his voice?</p>
+
+<p>“But don’t let those two ladies go out after dark, all
+the same! There’s fever; remember that!”</p>
+
+<p>“Might as well kill ’em as scare ’em to death,” said the
+woman shrewdly. “But I’ll lock up every night same as
+always. Dat nigh shook me into my grave, dat last
+trouble.”</p>
+
+<p>“See, then, that there’s no more,” he said sternly.
+“You’re responsible for them till I come back. And I’ll
+have no talking to them, mind that. You can’t afford to
+know anything about accidents, and I suppose neither of
+the others know anything to tell.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not one of ’em.” Her voice shook as if at some horrible
+memory. “You think I tell what I find, and bury?
+Nobody knows nothing ’bout dis nigger——”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But me,” said Egerton slowly. “And what is done
+here you are responsible for, and you know it.”</p>
+
+<p>She had good reason to. She broke out into a flood
+of protestations that he cut short; and while the listener
+stood trying to make sense of them she heard the man’s
+soft, quick footfall leaving the veranda.</p>
+
+<p>She had no mind to speak to him now. She knew there
+would be no satisfaction from him; nothing but smooth
+lies. Before she could move she heard Salome speaking
+to herself where Egerton had left her.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Take care o’ dem ladies,’ he says,” she broke out in
+a kind of wail. “‘You’s ’sponsible.’ But who’s going to
+take care of me, an’ Chloe, an’ Amelia Jane? Nothin’ but
+our own black skins. Praise de Lawd dis day dat I ain’t
+white!”</p>
+
+<p>She shuffled off, and Andria went up-stairs, pale and
+half-distraught. What sixth sense made her sure that all
+this show of warning, of caution, only covered something
+that was meant to happen.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re responsible,” he had said to Salome, and a horrible
+conviction was cold at Andria’s heart. If anything
+dreadful overtook her and Beryl, Egerton would have
+washed his hands of it. He had warned them and their
+keeper!</p>
+
+<p>Sick with apprehension, Andria almost ran against
+Amelia Jane, waiting, stout and attentive, on the landing.</p>
+
+<p>“You looks terrible tuckered out, missus,” she said respectfully.
+“Best lie down and rest.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria nodded; and then spoke on a sudden impulse.</p>
+
+<p>“Is this place Bermuda?” she said.</p>
+
+<p>“Law’s sake, missus, certain it is! Didn’t you know
+dat?” the colored woman said emphatically.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Andria slowly, walking past her.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE HAUNTING EYES.</p>
+
+
+<p>Beryl Corselas, wearied out, had slept from ten in the
+morning till late afternoon.</p>
+
+<p>Now, as she sat in the drawing-room with the western
+sun pouring through the open doorway, she looked a different
+girl; one whom Egerton would scarcely have
+known.</p>
+
+<p>Her dusky hair was dressed like Andria’s, her golden-tawny
+eyes shone serene in her pale face; even the crimson
+of her lips was brighter. For the first time in all her
+miserable young life she was happy. As a child, she had
+worshiped Andria Heathcote, and to be alone with the
+only human being she had never feared or deceived was
+rapture to her; even in this lonely island, with not a creature
+but themselves and the black servants. The drawing-room
+looked wonderfully homelike, with its open piano
+and comfortable tea-table, to the two who were so
+strangely met after five years.</p>
+
+<p>“Andria,” Beryl said, drawing a long breath and clasping
+her thin young arms round her knees, “why are you so
+quiet? Why aren’t you like me, ready to dance because
+you’re free? Free—but you can’t know what it is to me!”</p>
+
+<p>“‘Free among the dead,’” quoted the elder woman
+softly under her breath, but Beryl’s ears were good.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?”—looking up from her low seat
+with eyes like wells of golden light.</p>
+
+<p>Andria rose, and opened the two doors of the room.
+There was not a soul in sight, and from somewhere she
+could hear the servants talking over their tea.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl, how brave are you?” She had shut the doors
+softly and come very close, so that her voice was but a
+whisper.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know!” said Beryl, startled. “Rough words—Mother
+Felicitas—always made me a coward. But there
+are neither here.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span></p>
+
+<p>“There’s something. I don’t know what. Listen”—Andria’s
+voice was suddenly protecting, motherly—“and
+don’t speak loud! You heard Mr. Egerton warn us not
+to go out after dark on the verandas, or use that path.
+Well, there is some reason, I can’t tell what. I heard
+him talking to Salome, and I know the place isn’t safe.
+And he knew it when he brought us here.”</p>
+
+<p>“He only said we’d get fever if we went out after
+sunset. If he wanted us to, he wouldn’t have warned
+us,” said Beryl sensibly.</p>
+
+<p>“I know! But——” The shrewd reason of Salome’s
+“might as well kill ’em as scare ’em to death” came back
+to her. She must not fill the girl with fear like her
+own—only she wished she had not overheard that talk
+about accidents! She began to walk up and down the
+room restlessly.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t see why he brought us here!” she cried, but
+guardedly. “What reason could he have? Think, Beryl,
+why do you imagine he ever took you away from that
+Fuller woman? What did he say?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing; but that she was too poor to be able to afford
+to be kind.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you think he knows anything about you—is anything
+to you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, but kind as he has been, I can’t like him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why did he pretend to bring us to Bermuda, and leave
+us in a place like this? That is what puzzles me. I
+would think he knew something of you; wanted to hide
+you away safely, if——” she broke off. It was no use to
+say “if I didn’t feel that this was a dangerous place, and
+that he deceives us about it because he didn’t want us even
+to know where he had taken us.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?” said Beryl, staring. “Isn’t this
+Bermuda?”</p>
+
+<p>Andria laughed as Beryl’s Andria had not known how.</p>
+
+<p>“No!” she returned contemptuously. “Bermuda is a
+lot of small islands; small and low, not high like this.
+And it’s full of people—an English garrison and American
+visitors. I knew a man who went there.”</p>
+
+<p>Beryl’s eyes dilated like a cat’s.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Then what’s this?” she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” answered Andria, shrugging her shoulders.
+“I haven’t enough geography.”</p>
+
+<p>“Andria, you don’t believe he means to leave us here or
+murder us,” said Beryl, with a queer calmness.</p>
+
+<p>“The first, perhaps! Not the last, or he wouldn’t have
+told Salome to take care of us.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he?”</p>
+
+<p>Andria nodded. There was no need to say she was
+sure he had not meant it.</p>
+
+<p>“But there’s nothing to take care of us from!” continued
+Beryl ungrammatically.</p>
+
+<p>“He said there was. Oh, Beryl! I think and think, and
+I can’t see daylight. Why he brought us, why he lied to
+us; what it all means! He never saw me in his life, nor
+heard of me, so it must be on your account. No one in
+the convent ever knew who you were except Mother
+Felicitas——”</p>
+
+<p>“Did she?” asked Beryl sharply.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. But never mind her now, I only guessed that
+she knew. Think if you can remember anything before
+you ever came to the nuns.”</p>
+
+<p>Beryl shook her head hopelessly.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve often tried. I can’t remember one thing but a
+woman who used to hold me so tight and hard against
+her that I cried. It seemed to be in a room with a queer
+violet light in it—but it may be just a dream!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s no more useful.” Andria walked to the open
+door and stood watching the sun dip into the bay they
+had reached that morning; it lay empty now, blank, rose,
+and opal under a gorgeous sky, but she was not thinking
+of it. She was no girl like Beryl, but a woman, with a
+woman’s sense of responsibility. Beryl was her charge,
+she would take care of her—but how? That queer, blank
+feeling of thoughts that would not come overpowered
+her as it had the day she had learned she was not Andria
+Erle, but only Andria Heathcote, dishonored and deserted.
+A soft, heavy step made her start.</p>
+
+<p>“’Scuse me, missus,” said Salome civilly, “but it’s
+mighty nigh sundown, and I got to lock up dis place.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Lock up now!” Andria’s gentle voice was even, as
+usual. “Why, Salome?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s dark here, missus, de minute after de sun drops.
+I always does like dis;” and she moved from jalousy to
+jalousy, round the long veranda, drawing down and bolting
+each stout wooden shutter with easy strength.</p>
+
+<p>To the remonstrance of the new mistress she paid no
+more attention than to a child’s; and, in truth, Andria
+could not wish it. Since there was some danger, somewhere,
+by all means let Salome bar it out! But she meant
+to discover and fight it openly before long.</p>
+
+<p>As the black woman barred the front door, Andria noticed
+how strong it was, and how heavy. Was it to shut
+in—or to shut out—that the bolts were so big!</p>
+
+<p>“Where do you sleep, Salome?” she asked suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>“In de quarters behind de kitchen.”</p>
+
+<p>“Out of the house, do you mean?” she asked, with an
+uncontrollable start.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, missus, after de ladies’ dinner, at half-past seven,
+Chloe an’ me an’ Amelia Jane goes to our own house.”</p>
+
+<p>“But we can’t stay all alone, Salome! If we wanted
+anything in the night——” said Andria, aghast now in
+good earnest.</p>
+
+<p>“De ladies ring de bell,” returned the woman anxiously.
+“Dat’s de only way.”</p>
+
+<p>“May I come and see? I’d like to.”</p>
+
+<p>Salome chuckled. She led the way through what seemed
+half a mile of empty rooms and disused pantries into the
+kitchen; from its barred and grated window Andria saw
+a paved courtyard, with a high wall on two sides, on the
+third a stone house.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you’re not far! I could run to you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Please don’t, missus! Ring de bell; we’ll do de running,”
+said Salome anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Then you’re not afraid to cross the courtyard in the
+dark?” she asked, with sudden quickness.</p>
+
+<p>Salome looked nervously at the courtyard wall.</p>
+
+<p>“No, missus,” she answered. “Colored people ain’t got
+time to be frightened o’ de dark.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria remembered what the woman had said about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span>
+her black skin protecting her. What could she have
+meant?</p>
+
+<p>By the time she was back in the drawing-room again
+she saw Salome had been right about the darkness. It
+had dropped on the world like a curtain the instant the
+sun vanished.</p>
+
+<p>There were no blinds to the windows, and in the lamplight
+after dinner the dark squares of them were like blind
+eyes. As the two lonely girls sat talking, each, without
+telling the other, felt a growing dislike to those black
+windows, through which the darkness of the shut-up
+veranda showed like a solid wall. By degrees a curious
+quietude fell on the two. How silent the house was, and
+how silent the night outside.</p>
+
+<p>“Andria,” said Beryl softly, “have the servants gone to
+their funny little house? Who puts out these lights?”</p>
+
+<p>“I do. We leave the hall lights burning, Salome said.”</p>
+
+<p>Beryl gave a sudden shiver.</p>
+
+<p>“Let’s go to bed! I don’t like it here in this room.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you? Why?”</p>
+
+<p>The girl, with an infinitesimal movement of her finger,
+pointed to the unblinded windows.</p>
+
+<p>“Those!” she whispered. “I feel as if some one were
+looking in.”</p>
+
+<p>So did Andria. A dreadful feeling that they were
+watched had come on her as they talked. Brave as she
+was, she would have given a good deal to have had her
+back to the wall instead of those windows, that might
+suddenly splinter and crash in.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s nonsense!” she said, more to herself than Beryl.
+“The jalousies are shut; no one could see in.”</p>
+
+<p>“They could—through the slats!”</p>
+
+<p>“You goose, there isn’t any one within miles!” If Andria’s
+quick laugh jarred a little, Beryl did not notice it
+as the elder girl extinguished the lamps.</p>
+
+<p>“Come along to bed—you’re getting nervous,” she commanded;
+and purposely blundered against a chair in the
+dark.</p>
+
+<p>Once in her own room she put out the light there, and
+knelt by the shut jalousies of the veranda—listening. She<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span>
+had heard something down-stairs; had laughed that Beryl
+might not hear it, too. Now, in the hush of the
+veiled moonlight, she heard it still.</p>
+
+<p>Some one was below her, in the garden, going round
+and round the house with a fevered eagerness, almost
+running. Holding her breath, she heard those quick,
+quick steps, and her blood grew chill.</p>
+
+<p>Who could be there?</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE PATTERING FOOTSTEPS.</p>
+
+
+<p>In a less lonely place the governess would have thought
+nothing of those footsteps, but here she had been expressly
+told two things—there were no neighbors and there
+was danger abroad at night.</p>
+
+<p>“I wonder if I dare!” she thought, and peered through
+the slats of the jalousy. The moon was on the other side
+of the house; she could see that much, for this side was
+in deep shadow. No one below could possibly see if a
+jalousy were pushed out an inch or not. She unbolted the
+smallest division of the heavy hanging shutters, and noiselessly
+pushed it outward as far as she dared.</p>
+
+<p>All she could see was the strip of garden and shrubbery
+directly beneath her; darkly shadowed as it was she
+could not tell if there was any one there.</p>
+
+<p>“The night is dreadful in this place—dreadful!” she
+thought. “There might be devils behind every bush. The
+very moonlight is not like the good, clear light I know.
+Mr. Egerton need not have warned me not to go out—nothing
+would take me into those dreadful shadows,
+that veiled, honey-colored light.”</p>
+
+<p>The heavy jalousy tired her wrist, in another minute
+she must let it go, and so far had learned nothing. She
+had known down in the drawing-room that some person
+or thing was outside. Nothing moved now in the stirless
+garden—those strangely light, quick steps had ceased.
+But out of the quiet another sound and a nearer smote
+on her senses, a creaking as of wood rubbing on wood.</p>
+
+<p>Her aching wrist forgotten, she peered through the
+crack, and with horror, for the creepers were swaying
+below her.</p>
+
+<p>Some one was climbing up!</p>
+
+<p>Somehow, she shut the jalousy, bolted it and got back
+into her room. Something noiseless, light, a darker
+shadow against the dark, clung for an instant to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span>
+very shutter she had just closed, clung and was gone.
+She heard the quick slither of it as it went down the
+creepers, but whether it had been man or beast she could
+not tell.</p>
+
+<p>Her terror had taken her to the opposite wall of the
+room, that she might at least have something solid behind
+her back, and for a long minute she stood there,
+sick with the horror of the thing.</p>
+
+<p>Yet as she stood there, trembling-kneed, her heart grew
+strangely light; she felt suddenly uplifted, happy, in the
+midst of she knew not what mysterious dangers. Here
+was the chance to do as Mother Benedicta, that saint on
+earth, had bidden her long ago. To fight Beryl’s battles
+bravely, and in doing it rub out, perhaps, those years
+that had been so evil. For evil they had been; she had
+never been sure as she pretended that Raimond Erle
+and she were man and wife. She had snatched at happiness,
+had cared little if that happiness were a sin, and
+now——</p>
+
+<p>“I have my chance to blot it out,” she said to herself
+deliberately. “I’ll save the child if I have to die
+for her. Perhaps Mother Benedicta’s saints won’t shut
+me out of heaven then.”</p>
+
+<p>The hope that had never yet left her, that Raimond
+Erle might some day come back to her, ceased suddenly,
+as her thoughts of revenging herself died in the new
+hope that came over her.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll never see him again,” she thought, little knowing,
+“and I’ll beat Mr. Egerton yet! A better woman
+would have been a far more easily managed governess.
+One like me knows too much. For I’m sure—sure
+that he brought that girl here to put her out of the
+way, and his warnings to Salome and me were nothing
+but a blind.”</p>
+
+<p>The danger she was in made her almost gay.</p>
+
+<p>Quite boldly she stepped out on the veranda and looked
+through those shutters where that strange, hunting thing
+had scented her.</p>
+
+<p>What was it? It had looked, with its spread-eagle
+arms and legs, like an ape. She would find out in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span>
+morning if there were such things here. Then she shuddered,
+with a quailing at even her cold heart.</p>
+
+<p>Salome had thanked Heaven she was black!</p>
+
+<p>Then the thing, whatever it was, only attacked white
+people. Could it be some dreadful, half-crazy black man,
+run wild in the woods?</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t get a pistol,” mused Andria dryly, “but I can
+get a knife!” and she went quietly in to bed. The thing,
+whatever it was, was gone.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Bright and early she woke to a new day.</p>
+
+<p>Amelia Jane, with a tea-tray, stood by her bed, and
+Andria, after a dazed instant, remembered where she
+was, and saw, too, that Amelia Jane looked tired. She
+was the youngest of the colored women and the stupidest,
+and she stared as she answered Andria’s good morning.</p>
+
+<p>Fully dressed, she had lain down on her bed, her
+only toilet for the night having been to take out the
+pins from the great circle of ruddy hair that hung round
+her in a glorious mass. Under the servant’s wondering
+eyes, she laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“I must have fallen asleep,” she said. “Don’t tell any
+one, Amelia.”</p>
+
+<p>“You wasn’t awake late, was you?” the woman returned
+curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. I thought I heard footsteps, Amelia,
+last night!”</p>
+
+<p>Amelia Jane put down her tray.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t speak of ’em—they isn’t lucky!” she said.
+“They’s haunts, miss.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you mean ghosts?”</p>
+
+<p>“Jus’ ghosts. My soul! I slep’ here in this house once.
+I heard them steps all night. Hurry, hurry—hunt, hunt—but
+I never see nothin’. Bermuda’s haunted, I tell
+you so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is the house called Bermuda?” asked Andria quickly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yas’m. And if it isn’t haunted, why is it that they’s
+no footsteps heard out’n the quarters? Only in the big
+house.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p>
+
+<p>So the house was called Bermuda!</p>
+
+<p>That was what Amelia had meant on the stairs.</p>
+
+<p>Andria’s heart lightened a little, for at least it showed
+the servants were not in league with Egerton to deceive
+her.</p>
+
+<p>“Nobody ever sees the ‘haunt,’ do they?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>“No’m! Sometimes ’taint here at all. Salome she say
+it’s nonsense—but I don’t hear it. An’ yet it ain’t never
+amounted to nothing, only jus’ noises.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are there monkeys here, Amelia?”</p>
+
+<p>Amelia Jane laughed till she had to cover her face
+with her apron.</p>
+
+<p>“Monkeys! No’m. I been here three years, an’ I
+never hear tell of no monkeys. There ain’t no beasts
+’tall. When you’ve had you bath’m kin I brush out your
+hair? It’s tangled till if you piroots round in it you’ll
+tear it out.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria thanked her, her heart warming to the kindly
+voice. But when her toilet was done and she stood,
+fresh and fair, in front of the glass, some one knocked
+at the door. It was Salome, and her fat face was anxious.</p>
+
+<p>“Morning, missus,” she said hastily. “I come to tell
+you little miss must habe gone out. I can’t see her
+nowhere.”</p>
+
+<p>“Out! Alone?” Andria gasped, “Oh, Salome! Which
+way? Not down that path?”</p>
+
+<p>“You clear out and look down de road, ‘Melia Jane!”
+commanded the housekeeper, and stopped Andria, as
+she would have followed.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you say nothin’ of dat path to ‘Melia Jane,” she
+whispered. “She’d be faint-hearted of de place ef she
+got skeered. But run, missus, do; and get little miss.
+She didn’t know no other way to go.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you heard—last night!” cried Andria, almost
+running through the house, Salome at her heels.</p>
+
+<p>“Heard what? Dey ain’t nothin’ to hear. Don’t you
+listen to tales from ‘Melia Jane ’bout haunts. Dey’s fever
+in dat path, dat’s all,” said the woman, lying obstinately.</p>
+
+<p>Andria shot out of the house like an arrow from a bow.</p>
+
+<p>Down that uncanny path, with its hot, strong scents<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span>
+and gaudy flowers, she ran as she had never thought
+she could run; her skirts caught to her knees, she leaped
+and stumbled and slid over the tangled vines and sharp
+rocks. Suddenly a gleam of white caught her eyes,
+and between two high rocks she saw Beryl, kneeling over
+something on the ground.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl,” she screamed, hoarse with fear and anger at
+the girl’s disobedience; “Beryl, why did you come here?
+Come home!”</p>
+
+<p>“Hush!” said the girl softly, turning her head, “I’m
+all right! Come here quietly and see what I’ve found.
+Such a darling kitten!”</p>
+
+<p>Andria, her pulses thumping and her breath gone,
+caught back an angry word. What did the child mean?
+She had noticed last evening that Salome had no dogs
+or cats. And then her heart contracted.</p>
+
+<p>On the ground beside Beryl, playing with her hand,
+was a small cat—all marked with curious black rings
+on its yellow-white coat.</p>
+
+<p>But it was no cat. Its face was square, its eyes wild,
+as it stopped its play at the sight of a second person.
+Beryl, her own strange eyes intent and masterful, began
+to stroke it with soft, strong fingers.</p>
+
+<p>“Pussy, pussy—little, little cat!” she whispered in the
+thing’s small ear; and as if it knew her it lay on its
+back and patted her with velvet paws.</p>
+
+<p>What she had seen in the night came back to the
+governess. Had it been a full-grown thing like this that
+had smelled her out on the upper veranda? Trembling,
+she stepped to the girl’s side.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl, put it down! Come home,” she begged, for
+orders, when the girl’s face was absent and obstinate,
+were useless. “It may have its mother somewhere, you
+don’t know! Come home.”</p>
+
+<p>“She wouldn’t hurt me!” said Beryl, and for a moment
+those strange, yellow eyes met Andria’s, not so unlike the
+eyes of the queer, wild kitten.</p>
+
+<p>“No, but she might me,” said Andria quietly, as a forlorn
+hope.</p>
+
+<p>Beryl turned pale.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Andria, forgive me!” she cried. “I forgot.
+There, little cat, run home! Or shall I take it with us
+and feed it?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no! Oh, come away!” with a wild horror she
+thought of being followed up the path by a prowling
+thing like she had seen the night before. Almost she
+stamped her foot as Beryl lingered, kissing her new-found
+toy. Instead of scratching, it purred and rubbed its head
+against her, and Andria knew that if she had touched
+it the thing would have clawed her eyes out. Her heartbeats,
+which had shaken her from breathlessness, shook
+her now with terror. Who could tell what moment death
+might not be on them?</p>
+
+<p>But Beryl, putting down the kitten very gently, slipped
+her arm through Andria’s with quick compunction.</p>
+
+<p>“Come along,” she said sweetly. “I’d forgotten this
+was a bad place and we weren’t to come here. Run
+home, little cat! See, Andria, it will follow us!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Andria, with stiff lips. “It won’t come
+far, I fancy.” She pushed Beryl in front of her so
+that if more than the kitten should follow the girl would
+have a chance to run, and found herself glancing every
+which way just as Egerton had done the morning before.
+To her despair Beryl turned suddenly off the path.</p>
+
+<p>“Look!” she cried, “here’s the kitten again! It’s
+caught up with us. And here’s the dearest little pond,
+Andria!” She did not believe for one second in that
+fairy-tale of the kitten’s mother. “See it—all white
+sand, and so clear.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria was utterly furious.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl, please come! I’m so hungry,” she said. “I
+believe you want me to get fever.”</p>
+
+<p>“How can you!” said Beryl. “You poor dear, I’ll
+come now.”</p>
+
+<p>And she did, hurrying with easy steps up the stony
+path. The kitten stayed behind, and that terrified Andria
+anew. She turned to follow Beryl, and her foot
+slipped. For a moment she fell on her knees, faint with
+pain; her face bent over the still water of the little
+pond that mirrored her clearly. The next second her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span>
+heart seemed to die in her. There was more than her
+own face reflected in the water. Over her shoulder,
+leering, mouthing as if it jabbered at her, was a second
+face, so wild and dreadful that her throat grew shut
+and dry with fear. With her newborn instinct of facing
+an enemy, she wrenched herself round on her knees and
+scrambled to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>The space behind her was utterly empty! Even the
+wild kitten was gone.</p>
+
+<p>Not a rustle, a moving leaf, stirred the gorgeous shrubs
+anywhere, and yet she knew some one had vanished into
+them but now. That face that had leered at her from
+the water mirror had been no dream, but a dreadful
+reality.</p>
+
+<p>“Reflection can’t lie,” she thought. “And I saw it
+face to face with me.” She could scarcely move as she
+realized how close it must have been to her to have peered
+over her very shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl!” She suddenly remembered the girl she had
+sworn to herself to take care of, and forgot her turned
+ankle as she raced after her. At the end of the path
+she almost sobbed with joy. There stood Beryl, fresh
+and lovely in the sunshine that flooded the open turfed
+lawns. Her face was quite careless and untroubled.</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t tell her,” Andria thought swiftly. “She’s
+seen nothing.” But even there in the open ground she
+made her charge walk in front of her all the way to
+the house, for fear of what might yet be behind them.</p>
+
+<p>Salome stood waiting at the door, and turned away
+as she saw them.</p>
+
+<p>“What on earth’s the matter with Salome?” Beryl
+said, laughing. “Andria, she was truly pale! She was
+gray!”</p>
+
+<p>But Andria said nothing.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE EYES OUTSIDE THE JALOUSY.</p>
+
+
+<p>The weather changed that afternoon. A high, hot
+wind blew from the southwest under a gray sky; the
+sea thundered on the beach below the house; and as
+Beryl looked out listlessly, rainlike waterspouts came
+thrashing down.</p>
+
+<p>“Hateful!” she said pettishly. “I was going out.”
+Andria, whose bruised foot ached, began to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>“You needn’t laugh! If you do I’ll go still,” she said,
+with babyish wilfulness.</p>
+
+<p>“It wasn’t that,” said the so-called governess; “it’s
+only this—do you know that we were supposed to do
+lessons, and there isn’t a sign of a book in the house!
+Not even a novel. Amelia Jane has half a Bible, and
+she says that’s the only book there is.”</p>
+
+<p>“I believe he’s just stuck us here to mold away and
+die,” returned Beryl quite calmly. “He didn’t care
+whether I learned anything or not, in spite of his grandfatherly
+ways. But I’m not going to mold or die
+either. I like the place!” she continued coolly. “I hope
+he’ll never come back.”</p>
+
+<p>“You won’t like it long,” muttered Andria to herself.
+“You won’t have a chance,” for her adventures were
+heavy on her mind, and it took all her will not to pour
+them out to this careless listener.</p>
+
+<p>“I like it out, I mean! I didn’t like it indoors much.”
+Beryl went on, blessedly ignorant of the thoughts in her
+companion’s mind. “That’s rather funny about the
+books, but I don’t care. I wouldn’t do any more lessons
+if we’d a library. All I want to do is to lie under the
+trees and be lazy.”</p>
+
+<p>“You need it, you poor baby,” said Andria pitifully.
+For tall and strong as the girl was, she was too thin,
+and the lovely outline of her pale, warm cheeks too
+hollow. But in Andria’s mind was that there would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span>
+be few days to be out of doors in sun or shade; if
+things went on as now this house would not be their
+prison alone—their only safety would be inside its stout
+stone walls.</p>
+
+<p>“Hurrah, here comes tea!” cried Beryl gaily. “Salome,
+I haven’t anything to do, and it’s raining. Couldn’t
+Amelia Jane go out and look for my cat?”</p>
+
+<p>The tray clattered on the table. Salome had all but
+dropped it.</p>
+
+<p>“Cat?” she said. “Cat! Dey ain’t no cats here. For
+the land’s sake, Miss Ber’l, what you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just what I said,” answered Beryl provokingly.
+“Why? Don’t you like cats, Salome?”</p>
+
+<p>Salome opened her eyes till they looked all whites.</p>
+
+<p>“Dey ain’t none on de island,” she persisted obstinately.
+“What you mean? You didn’t bring no cat. I didn’t
+see none.”</p>
+
+<p>“I did, then, and I didn’t bring it either,” said Beryl,
+with a cheerful laugh. “The dearest little cat, Salome!
+I found it on the path on the shore this morning—all
+yellow with black spots.”</p>
+
+<p>“My gracious sakes, little miss!” said the woman
+slowly, and Andria saw she was holding herself hard.
+“Don’t you come and tell ole Salome dem tales.”</p>
+
+<p>“She did find a cat, Salome!” Andria interrupted. “I
+saw it, too. But it wasn’t like a common cat. I think
+it was a wild one. Why didn’t you tell me there were
+wildcats?”</p>
+
+<p>The woman drew her breath so sharply that it was
+all but a sob.</p>
+
+<p>“Dey ain’t—no wildcats!” she returned faintly.</p>
+
+<p>“I told you so, Andria,” Beryl stuck in gaily, helping
+herself to tea. “I knew it was tame! It was so soft,
+and had such sweet fur.”</p>
+
+<p>“You didn’t go for to touch it?” and almost fiercely
+Salome turned to the girl.</p>
+
+<p>“Why not, if it was only a dream-cat, like you say?”
+said Beryl, with that goblin look in her queer face. “Salome,
+you silly woman, of course I did! I played with
+it for ages.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span></p>
+
+<p>“An’ you never seen nothin’ else? Nothin’ ’tall?” she
+insisted, her big chest heaving.</p>
+
+<p>“No, of course not. Andria said its mother might
+come and eat us, but she didn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria’s eyes, full of meaning, caught Salome’s from
+behind Beryl’s shoulder. The colored woman read them
+like print. If one had not seen, the other had—and
+been silent. For an instant the black woman looked
+rebelliously at the white. If the new red-haired mistress
+meant there should be accidents Salome would
+have no hand in them. She moved, stiff with angry suspicion,
+to the front door.</p>
+
+<p>“Guess I’ll lock up now,” she muttered. “Don’t want
+none o’ dem cats in my kitchen.”</p>
+
+<p>“Salome, don’t shut up!” Beryl cried, running to the
+nearest window. “My cat may be out there; wait till
+I look. I’m going to bring the poor thing in out of
+the rain if it’s there.”</p>
+
+<p>She stared out into the blinding white mist of wild
+and streaming rain. It was impossible to see through
+it if there had been fifty cats; against it there was almost
+no difference in color between the gray tree-trunks
+and the green leaves, so blanched was the world. Suddenly
+lightning passed before her eyes, short, white,
+and vicious through the pearl-white rain, like a striking
+sword. After it thunder that shook the very earth.
+Under cover of the deafening peal of it Andria spoke
+in Salome’s ear.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t tell her, don’t frighten her,” she whispered.
+“You and I must take care of her. Oh, Salome, I saw
+something!”</p>
+
+<p>The woman’s face changed as if by magic. “I was
+suspicioning you,” she said, banging the door. “I don’t
+fancy dis place an’ dat’s a fact. But if you don’t, neither,
+I guess we’ll get over dem—all o’ dem,” she laughed
+savagely, but Andria caught at her black hand as at the
+hand of a friend. “I trust you, Salome!” she breathed.</p>
+
+<p>“Fo’ the Lawd, you kin,” said the woman shortly.
+“But dey ain’t no time now. You wait, missus, till to-night.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” shrieked Beryl. “There’s my cat. I saw it.
+It’s looking for me. I’ll get it.”</p>
+
+<p>Salome, with a bound that was ludicrous in a stout
+person who shook as she walked, caught the girl half
+out of the window. “Does you want to get killed by
+dat lightning?” she cried authoritatively. “I tell you
+dey ain’t no playing wid de sword of de Lawd in dis
+country. See dat!” she cried sharply.</p>
+
+<p>A tall tree was struck as she spoke, and the thunder
+drowned the fall of it, as the rain quenched its smoking
+limbs. “Dey ain’t no cats worf frizzling for, I tell
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>To Andria’s surprise Beryl turned obediently from
+the window. Salome, with feverish haste, shut up her
+fortress and lit the lamps.</p>
+
+<p>“Dey’ll be good men drowned in dat wind,” she said
+soberly. “You pray for dem, Miss Ber’l, instead o’ chasing
+after no cats.”</p>
+
+<p>A sudden heavy gust against the house corroborated
+her. The wind would be a hurricane by and by. In
+the noise of it the woman muttered to herself despairingly.
+“She see dat cat in daylight—broad daylight.
+Oh! my soul—and dey’ll be wind to-night. I dunno
+what I’m gwine do. I daresn’t tell ’em; he’d murder
+me just like dat if I did. I got to piroot some way out
+of it.” And she shook her head meaningly as Andria
+would have followed her from the room.</p>
+
+<p>Chloe and Amelia Jane waited at dinner. Salome was
+absent doing other things. Strange things enough in
+that lonely place, far from towns and tramps. The
+woman was strong as a man, and she worked feverishly
+at her self-appointed task; piled packing-cases before
+the doors opening on the lower veranda, put heaps of
+some strange-smelling, dried herb on the verandas themselves.
+The top ones she never thought of, knowing
+nothing of Andria’s vision the night before. When she
+had finished her poor precautions she regarded them
+doubtfully enough.</p>
+
+<p>“Broad daylight, and I’d been sure dey was clean
+gone,” she groaned. “And here it’s night, and de wind<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span>
+risin’. Pray dey’s grit in ole Salome yet! But I ain’t
+knowing just what to do. Dey tells me red-haired white
+women is liars, and how do I know ’bout dis one! She
+kin trust me sure enough, but I ain’t trying no speriments
+on her.”</p>
+
+<p>Yet that very wind that was racking Salome’s nerves
+had set Andria’s at rest. There could be no prowling
+spies on a night like this; not even that strange being,
+whose leering, mocking face she scarcely dared remember,
+could be abroad in such a storm. The face had been
+barely human; animal greed and hatred had been in it,
+hungry fierceness in its glittering eyes as it grinned at
+her. She longed to go and pour out her story to Salome,
+but when she looked into the kitchen all was
+darkness.</p>
+
+<p>“Salome needn’t have deserted us!” she thought, like
+a hurt child, and then resolutely banished all fear of
+their great loneliness in the inclemency of the night.</p>
+
+<p>“Look out!” cried Beryl, as Andria returned to the
+drawing-room. “See what I’ve found. Isn’t it fun?”</p>
+
+<p>She had from somewhere unearthed a long ugly dagger,
+very fine and sharp. On the floor she had put
+a row of oranges, and with unerring aim was throwing
+the dagger at them. She never missed; each orange
+as it was struck was nailed to the floor. Andria took
+the dagger from the orange where it stood quivering.
+How sharp it was! She had fairly to drag it from the
+polished board.</p>
+
+<p>“Let me try!” and to her surprise, after the first failure,
+the thing was easy. Only the fear of breaking the
+new toy made her stop; she might have need of it.</p>
+
+<p>“I found some cards, too, and a book!” Beryl cried.
+“Such a funny old book. Listen!” She read aloud
+from a battered calf octavo: “‘As sure as the turquoise
+brings love and the amethyst repels it, so does the opal
+attract misfortune and the beryl bring bad dreams.’
+There, the beryl’s me! What kind of a stone is it? I
+never saw one.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s green,” said Andria absently; “pale-green; something
+the color of that wild kitten’s eyes.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Then look here!” exclaimed Beryl excitedly. “Is this
+one? It was shut up in the book. Trust me to rummage
+round and find things.”</p>
+
+<p>She held up a tarnished gold ring, thin and old, set
+with a pale-green stone that glittered in the lamplight.</p>
+
+<p>Andria seized it.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a beryl, certainly,” she said slowly. “I wonder
+whose it is!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s mine now,” said Beryl, snatching it and slipping
+it on her finger. “I’m going to wear it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bad dreams, the book says, and you’ve no right to it,
+you know,” said Andria.</p>
+
+<p>“Neither has old Egerton any right to me. I’ll bring
+him bad dreams, too, if I can. Oh, Andria! Isn’t it
+pretty? I never wore a ring in my life.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria looked silently at her own bare fingers where
+once the diamonds had felt heavy. “They didn’t bring
+happiness,” she said softly. “But you can wear it if
+you like. Where are the cards? I’ll teach you to play
+euchre.”</p>
+
+<p>Curiously enough, all Beryl’s nervousness of the night
+before had vanished. She sat down calmly with her
+back to the uncurtained windows and bestowed her
+whole attention on the game. Her left hand, with the
+cards in it, was held high, with the ring glittering on
+it, so that if there had been any one to look in they
+could have seen it plainly. The storm made the house
+shake, solid as it was, and the noise of it was deafening.
+There could be no one abroad to-night, yet suddenly
+Andria seemed to stiffen in her chair.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl,” she whispered, putting down a card that was
+all wrong, “there’s the queerest sound in the wind! Like
+something sniffing at the door. Can’t you hear it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I heard it ages ago,” said Beryl gaily. “Perhaps
+it’s my cat. Shall I let it in?”</p>
+
+<p>“No! Don’t move. It’s too loud; no kitten could
+make it. It sounds like a horse sniffing dust and blowing
+it out again.”</p>
+
+<p>The girl listened.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span></p>
+
+<p>Very, very soft, in the battering wind, came another
+sound; a scratch, scratch, scratch at the door.</p>
+
+<p>“It is my kitten! I”—with a curious look in her eyes
+Beryl had risen—“I must go.”</p>
+
+<p>“You sha’n’t stir,” said Andria, with a sudden ugly
+gentleness. “You don’t know what’s outside. Come
+up-stairs; it isn’t safe here.” She caught Beryl’s arm
+and fairly pushed her from the room, catching up that
+lean, sharp dagger as she passed it. The instant they
+were over the threshold the scratching ceased, as if whatever
+was outside knew they had gone.</p>
+
+<p>Half-way up-stairs a sudden crash as if some one had
+upset a heavy table stopped both girls short. Fear
+caught Andria by the throat; silent and dry-lipped she
+pushed Beryl against the wall and stood in front of her,
+the dagger in her hand. Had something got in up-stairs?
+Was she to fight for both their lives—now—on these
+stairs? The next second she heard Salome’s voice: “Ladies,
+ladies,” she called frantically, “come up out o’ dat.
+Oh, my soul! Dey’s smelled de white blood—de white
+blood!”</p>
+
+<p>“Salome! I thought you’d gone to your own house.
+What is it?—there’s something—outside at the door.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come up, come up!” The black woman ran down
+to them, her snowy turban askew on her frizzy hair. “Oh,
+Miss Holbeach, I been here six years and I never seen
+nothin’ like dis. Dey’s hunted you down, hunted——”
+her voice broke horribly.</p>
+
+<p>“What?” said Beryl sharply. She broke from Andria’s
+hands and ran up-stairs.</p>
+
+<p>Andria tore after her, and stopped short at what she
+saw.</p>
+
+<p>Beryl was out on the veranda, staring into the darkness.
+Opposite her, not two yards from her face, something
+shone through the bar of the jalousies. Two
+great eyes, green as the stone she had found, glittering,
+ravenous, were fixed on her; but not even a shadow
+of the thing in whose head they shone showed against
+the black storm outside.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Come in,” said Andria, paralyzed. “Come in! Oh,
+what is it?”</p>
+
+<p>At the sound of her voice there came a snarl that
+made her blood cold, but the creature, whatever it was,
+could not loose its foothold to claw at the bars.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s an animal,” said Beryl, in a queer singsong tone,
+“I’m not afraid of animals. Go in, or you’ll be killed.”</p>
+
+<p>She walked nearer to those awful eyes, crooning softly
+to herself. The snarling ceased, but as Andria, in mad
+fear, leapt after the girl, it broke out so wildly, with
+such a guttural note of rage, that she screamed. The
+thing had got foothold! It was clawing at the bars.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">A STRANGE POWER.</p>
+
+
+<p>With a quick, backward sweep of her long, young
+arm Beryl Corselas sent Andria staggering backward,
+but she never looked to see Salome catch her dexterously
+and drag her inside the room.</p>
+
+<p>Without taking her eyes from the fierce ones outside
+the stout, wooden shutters, the girl began to croon again
+and the hungry scratching of the iron claws ceased.
+Monotonous, scarcely rising or falling, that queer chant
+went on, till through it there rose a purr like a great cat’s.</p>
+
+<p>Closer, closer Beryl drew to the jalousy; the horrified
+watchers saw her all but touch it. She stopped
+and gazed through the slats, straight into the wonderful
+eyes. Very slowly the great animal relaxed, scraping
+against the wood. Something heavy, yet strangely light-footed,
+leaped softly to the ground. The thing was
+gone.</p>
+
+<p>Exactly as if she walked in her sleep Beryl Corselas
+came straight to the other two.</p>
+
+<p>“I want a drink of water,” she said, very low. “That
+was a jaguar.”</p>
+
+<p>Salome struck a light and shut the door on the awful
+darkness of the veranda before she brought a tumbler
+from the wash-stand.</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know? You never saw one.” Andria’s
+voice was thick with shame. She had been so grand
+about saving Beryl; and it was Beryl who had saved
+her! She threw her dagger down angrily; it would
+have been no use at all in a struggle with a beast like
+that.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know.” Beryl gulped at the water. “But
+I do know, somehow,” she said in her natural, every-day
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>Salome took the tumbler from her with a curious
+gesture of respect.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span></p>
+
+<p>“My soul! You saved us! Oh! my glory!” she
+cried hysterically. “Glory, glory!” her voice rang out
+between sobs and laughter. “You’s one o’ dem.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?” Andria had played a small
+part and hated herself.</p>
+
+<p>“You knows much as I knows,” said Salome sullenly.
+“You seen! She was de beat of ’em. Dey’s some born
+like dat. Oh, missy, glory be dis night!” Her chest
+heaved as she turned to Beryl, but the girl only walked
+away.</p>
+
+<p>“Salome,” Andria broke out angrily, “you don’t trust
+me! I tell you I love the child. I have nothing to do
+with Mr. Egerton’s plots against her. I’ve known her
+ever since she was a baby.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t never hear o’ no plots,” said Salome sharply.
+But at the look on Andria’s face she buried her own
+in her hands. “I will trust you, missus,” she whispered.
+“Fo’ de Lawd, ole Salome couldn’t tell ’bout you. I’m
+sick o’ dis life and dis yer place, dat’s true.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then tell me what it all means,” commanded Andria
+sternly. “Why are we besieged here every night
+by wild beasts and worse?”</p>
+
+<p>Salome caught her by the arm.</p>
+
+<p>“Listen!” she cried. “I can’t tell you nothin’. I took
+my Bible oath”—on Amelia Jane’s poor relic of religion!—“to
+hole my tongue. But I took another in my mind
+to take care of dat child.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then tell me who I saw last night!” said Andria
+frantically. “Whose hateful face jabbered at me this
+morning, down the path——”</p>
+
+<p>“You done see him! My soul!” said the woman, as
+if hell had opened under her feet. “Den we’s gone,
+sure enough. Dey’s more than jaguars.”</p>
+
+<p>Beryl, as if she listened to something very far off,
+had drawn to the other end of the room. She stood,
+a tense white figure, deaf to all other sounds but those.
+Andria pointed to her dumbly.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t say anything,” she breathed. “She is afraid
+of people, never of animals. At the convent she once
+saved a sister from an ox that turned on her——”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Dey’s born so, I tell you,” Salome returned, with a
+kind of pride.</p>
+
+<p>“Salome, if you don’t speak out to me I’ll go mad,”
+Andria said desperately. “What can I do if I don’t
+know what it all means?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t tell you nothin’,” answered Salome slowly. “I
+couldn’t get clear if I did. And you knows all I knows
+now. I don’t know no more. Black people in the house,
+no one comes—white women! You seen to-night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you mean the place is safe for black people?”</p>
+
+<p>“De white blood draws ’em,” she answered in a
+whisper that thrilled.</p>
+
+<p>“But men; Mr. Egerton——”</p>
+
+<p>“When he comes back you see. He ain’t going to
+stay long. He sleep up, up in de roof, last time he
+come.”</p>
+
+<p>“And he brought two women here!” Every drop of
+Andria’s blood recoiled.</p>
+
+<p>“Dat’s what I can’t understand,” said Salome eagerly.
+“He say, ‘Salome, you take care on ’em!’ And I seem
+to feel he don’t mean it.”</p>
+
+<p>“He can’t,” said Andria simply. “Oh! Salome, can’t
+we get away? Isn’t there any one on all this island
+but us? Isn’t there a village—boats?”</p>
+
+<p>“If dey is dey’s behind miles o’ bush and scrub dat
+we can’t scrape through,” Salome returned, very low.
+“Boats, if you means getting away by de sea, dey ain’t
+none, ’less we make ’em. I never see no living soul
+since I been here—but what you see to-night!”</p>
+
+<p>“But why are you here?”</p>
+
+<p>“’Cause he brought me. He tell me he take me to
+good place in Bermuda, and I came here. Oh, missus!
+I’m not old—but I’m wore out with misery.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you’re not a slave! Why did you stay?”</p>
+
+<p>“Niggers has no choice,” she answered darkly. And
+something told Andria there was a black story that Salome
+would not tell. “By and by he bring Chloe an’
+Amelia Jane. He tell dem dis is Bermuda. And dey
+never fret, dey only caring to eat and save deir wages.
+De Lawd knows if we ever get away from here. Don’t<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span>
+you ’spose I never tried, ’cause dat’s what I did try. But—I
+ain’t gone yet!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll make him let us go!”</p>
+
+<p>Salome clutched her, really ashy with terror.</p>
+
+<p>“You never say nothin’, or dey’s no more o’ dis world
+for me. You mind now. I never tell you nothin’; you
+never tell me nothin’; you see and I sees; and we beat
+them if we can. Dey’s here, dey’s always been here,
+but when dey ain’t no one but niggers in de house dey
+goes. Dey get master yet,” she said savagely, “for all
+he dares ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you told me there were no animals—where did
+that thing come from?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sometimes I think dey spring out o’ de earth. I
+don’t know. But dey’s worse—you tell me he jabbers
+at you dis morning,” interrupting herself, “an’ she’s
+afraid of people! If he’s going round in de daylight
+like dat, an’ she’s afraid, he’ll get her sure!”</p>
+
+<p>“But who is he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Dat’s what I don’t know. But he climbs and—Miss
+Holbeach, it ain’t no jaguar dat chokes de life out o’
+my lambs and don’t tear no flesh nor skin!”</p>
+
+<p>Andria’s flesh crawled at the slow words. In the
+silence the storm outside was like the end of the world.
+The battering of the wind, the crash of falling trees, the
+roar of the rain covered the low voices of the two women.
+In the uproar Beryl, like a statue that lived and listened,
+drew her breath long and slow. Suddenly she spoke,
+without turning.</p>
+
+<p>“There are more than that one, and they’re hunting
+and yapping like dogs. I wish I could see them! But
+it’s too dark.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are they hunting us?” cried Andria, shuddering. Already
+she seemed to feel the ripping claws, the crunching
+teeth of the great beast outside.</p>
+
+<p>“Not me!” said Beryl dreamily.</p>
+
+<p>Salome watched her with awestruck eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“If we dies, we dies,” she said hardly. “Better lie
+down on dem beds an’ rest. Dey ain’t got in yet. Pray<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span>
+de Lawd we ain’t going to be de meat at a jaguar
+wedding dis night!”</p>
+
+<p>With the stoical courage born of long endurance of
+fear she lay down on a rug. Andria, in sheer despair,
+sat down silently. And in the midst of the storm she
+seemed to hear what Beryl was hearing—a wild snarling,
+a medley of quick cries—and set her teeth. Any
+minute, through any door, a square, savage head might
+show itself with death in its green eyes. She looked at
+Beryl.</p>
+
+<p>The girl was curled up on her bed like a kitten, sound
+asleep.</p>
+
+<p>Black woman and white looked at each other, then
+with one consent sat up and kept their useless, terrified
+watch till the lamp burned dim. The wind had fallen,
+the horrid outcry in the garden had ceased, and, lulled
+by the quiet, the two slept in their chairs, worn out.</p>
+
+<p>As the dawn flushed in the east the girl on the bed
+sat up, looked at the two weary figures, the dying lamp,
+and like a ghost stole by them. When the clear sunlight
+at last roused them she had not come back.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">IN THE WOODS OF PARADISE.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">“Drink to the men that were broken!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent1">They were better men than you.”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Scorching morning sun on a barren point of rock and
+sand, and on great waves that thudded and broke emerald-green
+and white on the wet beach; and nothing else
+to tell of the past night’s storm.</p>
+
+<p>Nothing, unless if any one had shaded their eyes to
+gaze at the beach, where the hot air quivered, they
+might have seen a huddled thing lying there just out
+of the reach of the waves; a thing that last night had
+been a man, and to-day—motionless, lax, it seemed but
+the body that some one had cast aside. If something
+did move in the bushes, it did not disturb that quiet
+sleeper in the sun.</p>
+
+<p>“Experience keeps a dear school, but fools will learn
+in no other.”</p>
+
+<p>Brian Heriot had been put into the Guards at twenty,
+had lived as gaily as if money grew on every bush, till
+the crash came and undeceived him. His father died
+without a will, and his elder brothers quietly threw him
+over. The new Lord Heriot was a Plymouth brother and
+a philanthropist; he had no money to waste on idle young
+butterflies in the Guards. The Honorable Brian Heriot
+grinned without much mirth when he realized his position.
+He disgusted his dear friends by calmly taking
+what little money he had to pay his debts, and then,
+without a word to any one, quietly “went under.” His
+old haunts knew him no more; people forgot him, no
+one troubling to remember that if Lord Heriot was a
+pious prig, Brian, his brother, was a born adventurer.</p>
+
+<p>Strange lands, strange occupations knew him. He
+grew very tanned, very handsome, with a look in his
+face that made women turn their heads as he passed.
+But he made no money, only kept body and soul together;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span>
+a rolling stone that yet did not go down-hill. For he
+kept his soft speech and manner, his good heart that
+hated cruelty and a lie. Somehow he had drifted to
+Fayal, and there being penniless, if cheerful, had shipped
+on a small coasting-vessel that gathered cargo for the
+European steamers.</p>
+
+<p>That was a week ago. This morning there was neither
+vessel, cargo, nor crew; nothing but Brian Heriot washed
+ashore almost dead. He had swum till he could swim
+no more; that was all he knew. That, and a great
+crashing of water, and utter darkness. But the very
+wave that had stunned him had cast him high and dry
+like a bit of driftwood on the sandy point where he
+lay.</p>
+
+<p>As the sun warmed him he stirred, ever so faintly.</p>
+
+<p>Had something touched him? Stooped over him with
+clammy fingers on his bare throat? He tried to open
+his eyes, but he saw only one fleeting shimmer of sun
+on water before they closed again. There was a deadly
+heaviness in his limbs, an utter indifference in his brain;
+he did not know whether he was alive or dead, and did
+not care. Presently he knew he was dreaming.</p>
+
+<p>He thought he was lying in hot, hot sun, on hotter
+sand, and turned away from the hungry sea that pounded
+in his ears. And just before his eyes stood a girl; a
+tall girl in white, with a great veil of dusky hair streaming
+over her. Round her feet played two jaguar cubs,
+and in her arms was a third, that she cuddled and
+crooned to as if it were a child. Step by step she came
+close to him, and over her shoulder there peered from
+the bushes another face that leered and laughed as if
+in malice. A dreadful fright for the girl came over
+Brian Heriot, but in his nightmare he could not stir.
+He tried to shout, and the dream went. Something wet
+and cool on his head roused him; a shadow that was
+heaven came between him and the sun; a girl’s voice
+scolded something that seemed to be running and jumping
+over him.</p>
+
+<p>With an effort that racked every bone Brian Heriot
+sat up, and stared about him. Half his dream was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span>
+true. He was on a beach, a wet handkerchief was bound
+on his head, but there was no one there.</p>
+
+<p>“Please come back!” he said. “I won’t hurt you,”
+and then laughed ruefully. Sick and dizzy, with a cut
+head and a wrenched ankle, he certainly would not hurt
+any one. “Oh, do come back!” he cried again, with a
+kind of vexed impatience, and wished he could remember
+some Portuguese instead of this useless English.</p>
+
+<p>But even as he spoke the bushes parted, and a girl
+slipped out of them. She stood looking at him with great
+eyes almost as yellow as topaz, and he saw the color
+come and go in her creamy cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought you were Mr. Egerton at first,” she said
+slowly, almost sullenly. “Did you come with him? Is
+he back?”</p>
+
+<p>Ill and exhausted as he was, the incongruity of the
+thing made him stare. Where had he got to, that a
+girl played with jaguar cubs and spoke in English?</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know any one named Egerton,” he said, propping
+himself up on one arm. “My name’s Heriot.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did you get here? You really mean you don’t
+know him?”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean I never heard of him,” he answered stupidly.
+“I got here because my ship was wrecked last night. If
+you hadn’t waked me I think I should have had a touch
+of sun.”</p>
+
+<p>“You must get out of it,” said the girl quickly. She
+twisted her hair into a knot, as if she had just remembered
+it. As she did so a ring on her finger glittered
+green, and at the sight of it something in the bushes
+drew back sharply.</p>
+
+<p>At the rustle she bounded like a frightened child closer
+to the man in the sand, whose eyes were so blue in his
+handsome face, handsome in spite of blood-stains.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you see anything besides me, a little while ago?”
+she whispered. “Quick, tell me!”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought I saw a man,” he answered, surprised. “But
+I wasn’t myself; I don’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>She put her hand on his shoulder, and to his amaze
+he felt it tremble.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span></p>
+
+<p>“So did I!” she whispered, lower still. “Get up. I’ll
+help you. I’ll take you with me. But,” suspiciously,
+“you mean what you say? Mr. Egerton didn’t send
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No one sent me.” He forgot she was a girl, and
+spoke with rough truth as to a man. “God knows you
+haven’t much choice when you’re washed overboard. I
+didn’t mean to come. Why should I lie about it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Most people,” she said composedly, “lie. But”—she
+stopped, listened—“come, come away!” she cried. “I’m
+afraid here.”</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t be afraid of much,” he answered, full of
+wonder. “I saw you playing with jaguar cubs just now,
+unless I dreamed it.”</p>
+
+<p>The girl laughed. That rough denial of Egerton had
+somehow made her trust the man. “Those were my
+cats. I’m not afraid of animals. I hate people, though,
+except Andria.”</p>
+
+<p>“By George!” thought Heriot, “I’d rather face ten
+men than one jaguar. Who is the girl? And who’s
+Andria? I knew one Andria, but——” He smiled at
+the idea; it could not be she!</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t know anything about animals.” She had
+read his face with a queer anger. Turning from him,
+she began to croon, very low, and at a call a yellow,
+white, black-spotted kitten came out of the bushes. But
+it only rubbed against her skirt and bounded away. Beryl
+Corselas grew pale.</p>
+
+<p>“Come,” she said, and took his hand. “Can you walk?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.” He got on his feet and gritted his teeth with
+the pain in his ankle. “Is it far?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; I don’t know,” she said absently, staring round
+her. Who was calling the cats that they would not
+stay with her? What horrible face had she seen for
+one instant through the bushes? “Don’t let go my
+hand!” she said suddenly, childishly; and Heriot, for all
+his pain, saw that this girl who played with jaguars was
+frightened.</p>
+
+<p>But as he went with her up what was surely a path,
+though not worn by shod feet, the feeling that it was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span>
+all a dream came over him again. If it had not been
+for the pain in his foot he might have been Adam
+walking with Eve in Eden for the loneliness and the
+beauty of the place. The wet scrub was a mass of
+flowers, gorgeous butterflies swam through thickets of
+white and rose heaths, strange blossoms flaunted in his
+face. And never in all his days had he seen a beauty
+so strange as that of the girl who led him by the hand.
+Yet for all its unlined youth the face was pathetic,
+tragic; the dull rose lips were lips that had tasted
+grief.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean by saying you’re afraid of people?”
+he said, the pain in his ankle making him talk, for fear
+he should groan.</p>
+
+<p>“Animals are simple; I understand them,” she returned,
+without slackening her pace. “People all have an animal
+in them. I see it in their faces, but an animal turned
+bad. Mother Felicitas was a white wolf.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are not afraid of me?” He was afraid himself
+of her answer.</p>
+
+<p>“No!” she answered carelessly. “No more than I
+would be of a dog. Come on!”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot had stopped. He leaned against a tree, faint
+with pain. He would cheerfully have given a thousand
+pounds for a drink.</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll have to wait,” he said ruefully. “I mean I
+will. There’s something wrong with my foot.”</p>
+
+<p>With feverish haste the girl picked up a stick that
+lay on the path and shoved it into his hand. “It’s green,
+it won’t break. Use it for a walking-stick,” she ordered.
+“And try to hurry. Don’t you know there’s
+something following us?”</p>
+
+<p>He had not heard a sound.</p>
+
+<p>“What sort of thing?”</p>
+
+<p>“Something dumb,” she whispered, “that leers and
+jabbers, and I can’t manage it, for I’m afraid.”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot put his hand in his trousers pocket. His pistol
+was gone.</p>
+
+<p>“Walk ahead,” he said, setting his teeth. And as
+she obeyed he heard behind him a faint rustling that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span>
+grew no nearer. He limped on in purgatory from the
+heat and his foot. His head swam as the sweat poured
+off him. If it had not been for the terror of the girl
+with him he would have sat down and waited for what
+was following them rather than have walked another
+step.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly she cried out, and, reaching back for his
+hand, fairly dragged him after her. They were out of
+the scrub, standing at the edge of a great, open meadow,
+with trees scattered over it. As in a dream he saw a
+white house, quite near; nearer still a black woman and
+a white running to them. He was so dizzy that he
+reeled and nearly pulled the girl backward as she clutched
+his hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl!” cried a voice high and sweet. “Oh, Beryl,
+where have you been—who’s that?” asked Andria, with
+a quick note of startled surprise.</p>
+
+<p>The whole world swam before Mr. Heriot’s eyes. He
+tried to steady himself, to speak.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Erle,” he began, quite calmly, and fainted dead
+away on the grass at Andria’s feet.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">OLD SINS AWAKENED.</p>
+
+
+<p>Andria’s heart contracted where she sat in the pleasant,
+green-shaded room. The three colored women had
+made nothing of carrying the unconscious man into an
+unused room in the upper story of the servants’ quarters;
+Salome’s eyes had told Andria he must not be taken into
+the big house. And there in the spotless bareness of the
+darkened chamber Andria had sat ever since, like a
+woman who sees a ghost, waiting for this man who
+knew her to come to his senses.</p>
+
+<p>For he knew her quite well. He had been a friend of
+Raimond Erle’s, had believed like the rest of London that
+the woman who was called “the lovely Andria” had been
+the true cause of his financial ruin. When he found
+what she was doing here, would he warn Beryl what a
+wicked woman she was who masqueraded as a governess
+and guardian?</p>
+
+<p>She lifted her bowed head to look at him, and saw he
+had wakened from the heavy sleep that had come on
+him after his fainting-fit.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Erle,” he said again stupidly.</p>
+
+<p>She walked over to him swiftly.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not Mrs. Erle; I never was!” she said, with a
+kind of passion. “My name is Andria Heathcote, but
+they call me Holbeach here.”</p>
+
+<p>“But——”</p>
+
+<p>“I know,” she cut him short. “I have begun again.
+I am Beryl’s governess, the girl who brought you home.
+She knows my real name, but I told her I called myself
+Holbeach for reasons of my own.”</p>
+
+<p>“Governess!” he said, staring.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not fit, you think!” she said bitterly.</p>
+
+<p>“I would not say so,” said the man slowly, and the
+blood came to his face.</p>
+
+<p>“You think I’m bad—an—adventuress——”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I think you ruined Raimond Erle,” he answered
+bluntly.</p>
+
+<p>With a queer gesture she put her hand to her heart
+as if it hurt her. This man was of the world, would
+judge as the world; and he could tell.</p>
+
+<p>“I——” She could not finish. A man who did not
+know her would have been a rock of defense, to whom
+she could have told everything. This man would never
+believe she was not in Egerton’s pay, to get rid of Beryl
+Corselas. He would remember the evil places, the evil
+company he had seen her in; would think it right to destroy
+Beryl’s faith in the only soul she trusted.</p>
+
+<p>No! Let him think this was an ordinary house, she
+masquerading as an ordinary governess. Salome said it
+would be weeks before he could walk; let him stay here
+in this secluded room, where no noises would wake him.
+He was only another burden, not a help.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Heriot,” she said quietly, “you will do as you
+like, of course, about airing what you know of me. But
+if you will wait you will see perhaps that I’m not all bad—not
+what you may think. Don’t tell Beryl that I was
+Andria Erle till you see reason to mistrust me,” and even
+while she spoke she knew he would see reason enough
+as soon as Beryl’s careless, indifferent tongue told the
+queer story of Egerton and the happenings in this evil
+house. No sane person would believe that if such things
+were possible in this every-day world the woman Egerton
+paid was not on his side in them. And what Egerton’s
+side was did not puzzle Andria, if it did Salome.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t go about blackmailing people,” said Heriot
+coldly. “Don’t look so nervous.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you don’t think I ought to be in the house with
+any girl,” she said quietly, and he could not see the bitterness
+in her face.</p>
+
+<p>“If you ask me,” unwillingly, “no! But God knows I
+can’t throw the first stone at you, especially when you
+take me in and nurse me,” but the old dislike of her and
+her kind was in his voice as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>“Then try and think kindly of me,” she broke out,
+and there were tears in the eyes he had always seen<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span>
+so hard. “I have begun again; I’ve put all that behind
+me.” With a gesture of loathing he understood.</p>
+
+<p>“My dear lady,” he returned quickly, “don’t plead like
+that! It is no business of mine what you were. I see
+you here as Miss Holbeach, and—as for the girl, I am
+not her keeper.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, but I am!” she retorted, for his tone hurt unbearably.
+“And keep her I will. I will send your dinner
+now,” she said, with a change of manner that said
+more for her self-control than her honesty; “it is nearly
+six o’clock; you must be starving.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tell me,” said Heriot quickly, “who is the child?
+What did she mean this morning by saying she was
+frightened?”</p>
+
+<p>He was not prepared for the look on Mrs. Erle’s face.</p>
+
+<p>“Frightened!” she stammered. “What of—did she
+say? Not of those horrible cats?”</p>
+
+<p>“If you mean jaguar cubs, she was playing with them.
+No; some one dumb, she said, who leered and mouthed
+at her—and I thought I saw a queer face myself, too!”</p>
+
+<p>Involuntarily Andria did the worst thing possible.</p>
+
+<p>“You were hurt and half-senseless,” she returned
+coolly. “You imagined you saw what the child romanced
+about.”</p>
+
+<p>But he had seen her dismayed and confounded face,
+and knew she lied.</p>
+
+<p>“That woman here!” he thought, as she left the room,
+shutting his eyes and seeing her as he had seen her in
+Raimond Erle’s house, covered with diamonds, surrounded
+by the worst men in town. “And with that innocent,
+fairy-tale sort of child and her queer pets. Why
+did she lie to me just now? And why are either of them
+here? This must be Flores or Corvo; one of the Azores,
+anyhow! And what is she about to let things frighten
+the girl?”</p>
+
+<p>The whole thing made him thoughtful. Were there
+only the governess and the girl—where were the master
+and mistress? Intuitively the man felt there was something
+wrong. With a resistless impulse to see at least
+where he was, he managed to drag himself over to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span>
+window. Through the half-open jalousy he saw a small,
+stone courtyard, strong as a prison, shaded by a high
+building from the sinking sun. And as he stared voices
+floated up to him.</p>
+
+<p>“Salome, she saw—you know something that jabbered
+at her! She told him. What shall we do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why’d she tell him?” The second voice was richer,
+more guttural. “Oh, my glory, missus! Mr. Egerton——”
+and the rest was in a whisper.</p>
+
+<p>“I know. This man won’t help us, Salome!”</p>
+
+<p>“No! An’ if Mr. Egerton he come back and find him
+here, de onliest thing dat’ll happen is de Death Trap.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?” But the voice was not surprised,
+only appalled.</p>
+
+<p>“Pray he don’t find out. Best keep Miss Ber’l away
+from him. If she tells him things, an’ he sees—he’ll go
+out fur to fight! And you knows, missus,” earnestly,
+“he might have friends. Dey’d be coming round asking
+for him. Onless you kin trust him to help us?” with a
+searching accent that was an entreaty.</p>
+
+<p>“He’ll never help us. He’ll be against us, not for us,”
+bitterly. “You daren’t tell, Salome?”</p>
+
+<p>“Den if he won’t help us, de sooner he goes de better.
+I can’t tell. Ain’t nothin’ to me, one white man!
+An’ if Mr. Egerton finds people spyin’ round here, it’s de
+end of me, sure!”</p>
+
+<p>“He can’t hear anything up there?”</p>
+
+<p>“No! No more’n ’Melia Jane does. Onless little miss
+screams!”</p>
+
+<p>“She sha’n’t scream!”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot drew away from the window, but not so far
+that he did not see Andria Erle cross the courtyard with
+a light, quick step that went ill with the grim sound in
+her voice.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">DOUBTING THOMAS.</p>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Heriot, to his disgust, was extremely ill after that
+rash journey to the window.</p>
+
+<p>For a fortnight he had fever, and was nursed untiringly
+by Salome, silent as a statue. When he had
+mended enough to be left alone and could walk about his
+room, he discovered he was to all intents a prisoner.
+His stout nurse had calmly locked the door on him to
+keep him out of mischief.</p>
+
+<p>“Serves me right for spying on them!” he thought,
+ashamed and angry, standing at the window, as he had
+done that first evening. “But, all the same, I think
+there’s some devilment going on here—hello!” he pushed
+the jalousy from him and leaned out.</p>
+
+<p>Beryl Corselas, idle and listless, stood in the courtyard
+alone. He had never seen her since she had brought him
+from the shore, and her beauty, that was so young and
+so pathetic, struck him afresh.</p>
+
+<p>“Are you better?” she cried, waving her hand to him.
+“Why don’t you come out?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t,” he answered calmly. “Salome has locked
+me in.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wait,” said the girl promptly. She ran across the
+yard, and he heard her light feet on the stair outside.</p>
+
+<p>“You were locked in!” she cried, opening the door
+and standing there, tall and lovely, her dark hair no
+longer hanging round her and her white dress immaculate,
+instead of being soaked with dew. “How funny!”</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t it?” returned Heriot gravely. He led the way
+out, limping; he had no notion that Mrs. Erle should find
+her charge in his room.</p>
+
+<p>“Everything’s funny here, though,” the girl said
+thoughtfully. “I’m getting used to it. But even Andria
+has got queer since you came. She just sits and thinks,
+and she won’t let me out of her sight. She has a headache<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span>
+to-day, poor Andria! And Salome and the others
+are busy washing. This is the way, out this door.”</p>
+
+<p>She led him into the house through the empty kitchen,
+and at the voices, and laughter that came from the wash-tubs
+the man felt he must be a fool with his suspicions.
+Everything here was ordinary. Was he thinking all
+sorts of nonsense because he had heard a conversation
+not meant for him?</p>
+
+<p>In the drawing-room he was amazed at the luxury
+round him; the silk cushions and gorgeous embroideries
+that were so strange in this corner of the Azores.</p>
+
+<p>His companion made him sit down, and seated herself
+on the floor. She looked up at him, her elbows on her
+knees and her chin on her hands, and for the first time
+he saw what a curious face she had.</p>
+
+<p>There was something almost vacant in it, and yet it
+was not a stupid face, only utterly indifferent. The eyes
+that met his were startling in their strangeness, the irises
+raying out a tawny golden-yellow, while the eyebrows
+and lashes were like ink. The girl’s lips were a thrilling
+crimson, and yet the mouth bore a look of suppression,
+as if too early it had been acquainted with grief.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” she said, with a sudden laugh that startled him,
+“it is queer here. I am queer myself.”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot smiled, though he was taken aback.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re a child,” he said calmly; “you haven’t found
+yourself yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Me? I never was a child,” she said, and her eyes
+darkened as if some inward flame had been extinguished.
+“No one who’s been Beryl Corselas all her life could ever
+be a child.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“I mean the convent, and Mother Felicitas,” she said
+somberly, “and Andria and me. If Andria had not gone
+away it might have been better.”</p>
+
+<p>She looked straight at him, and something in his look
+reminded her of Andria. His blue eyes had the same
+look of self-reliance. His good looks did not strike her
+at all; the golden-brown hair and mustache and the debonair<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span>
+face that had turned many a woman’s head
+never touched Beryl Corselas one whit. He looked kind
+and strong, and she liked him. That was all. Yet Andria
+could have told her that in his day Heriot had been
+the handsomest, most spoiled man in London.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you mean Miss Holbeach,” he asked, with perceptible
+hesitation and utter surprise, “was ever in a convent?”</p>
+
+<p>Beryl nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll tell you,” she said. “It’s all very queer. If you
+read it in a book you wouldn’t believe it. And that reminds
+me,” she went on, laughing, “Andria was brought
+here to teach me, and there isn’t a book in the house but
+that funny, old one on the floor there. Mr. Egerton
+couldn’t have really cared whether we did lessons or
+not.”</p>
+
+<p>“Begin at the beginning,” said Heriot, with the soft
+voice women had found so sweet. “I can’t understand,
+you know.”</p>
+
+<p>But when she had reeled out the whole extraordinary
+tale he leaned back and whistled softly.</p>
+
+<p>Egerton, whoever he was, must know something of
+Beryl Corselas’ history and want her out of the way. No
+better place could have been found for a superfluous girl
+to live than this unknown nook in the Azores. And no
+other kind of woman than the late Mrs. Erle could have
+been got to take pay for accompanying a kidnaped girl.
+There was probably very little mystery in the affair to
+her; she must know something from those far-away convent
+days about the history of Beryl Corselas; which
+might also explain why it had been convenient to get her
+here, too, in addition to being a pliant tool in the hands
+of a clever man. And that the girl had an affection for
+her was another reason. Heriot knew the power of a
+woman over a girl who idolizes her. That the whole
+thing had been blind chance, he never thought for an
+instant.</p>
+
+<p>“Why do you think he brought you here?”—he kept
+his interest out of his voice.</p>
+
+<p>“I think,” she answered calmly, “to be eaten up. And<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span>
+so does Andria. But Salome says he made her swear to
+take care of us. And he did warn us himself, of course;
+but I think that was for show, and so does Andria.”</p>
+
+<p>“Eaten up!” Mr. Heriot gasped. He began to wonder
+if the girl were queer in the head.</p>
+
+<p>Beryl nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t know. You don’t sleep in the house,” she
+returned. “And, anyhow, it’s all right now, for they
+know me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who?”</p>
+
+<p>“The two old jaguars,” she said calmly, “and their
+kittens. You saw their kittens this morning.”</p>
+
+<p>“Know you! Jaguars!” This was worse and worse.
+The girl was stark mad. If he had not seen her with the
+cubs he would have thought it a lie from the word go.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, they do!” she asserted pettishly. “I sing—like
+this—and they come. I can make them go away, too.
+Even Andria is getting to know that I can.”</p>
+
+<p>She sat upright and began the queer croon he had
+heard once before, but this time he recognized it. It was
+a snake-charmer’s song, wordless; a thing to make the
+flesh crawl on the bones.</p>
+
+<p>“Where did you learn it?” he asked, cutting her short.
+He was not blood-brother to jaguars, and had no wish to
+have them called in the open windows.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve always known it: I never learned it. I can do
+anything with animals. Andria says mother must have
+been a dompteuse—a lion-tamer, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“It does go from mother to daughter, they say,” he
+returned rather faintly. He wondered if this Egerton
+were, perhaps, her father, and then—but no man could
+be so cold-bloodedly cruel as that! “There ought not to
+be wild animals here,” he said out of his thoughts. “Are
+these jaguars wild?”</p>
+
+<p>Every vestige of animation left the girl’s face.</p>
+
+<p>“No!” she breathed more than spoke. “And that’s the
+only thing that frightens me. They’re trained; they have
+a master, and they obey him. Do you remember I saw a
+face that morning? Well,” as he nodded, “I think they
+are his. I think he tries to set them on to kill us, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span>
+I’ve managed them so far. If I could only get them to
+like me best; they would obey me like dogs; but sometimes
+I can’t get them to come to me at all. Andria is
+afraid to let me play with them. One night I went out,
+but she came after me and dragged me in. There was
+nearly dreadful work that time; I could hardly keep them
+off her—the cubs, I mean. If the old ones had been there
+she would have been killed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then she does try to take care of you!” the words
+escaped him, to his instant shame.</p>
+
+<p>“Andria? She loves me! She came out to me when
+they might have torn her up. But she isn’t afraid of that
+thing that hunts with them. It climbs up the jalousies,
+and hurries round the house all night, like a dried-up
+monkey—only I know it’s a man!”</p>
+
+<p>“Has she seen it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. But I have, and I’m afraid of it. And
+Andria gets wild if I talk of it. She says it’s all a
+dream.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a damned unpleasant one, then!” thought Heriot,
+utterly at sea. If Egerton meant to do away with both
+women, the lovely Andria was a fool to be here. If only
+Beryl was to be got rid of, how was Mrs. Erle to save
+herself? As he thought of her she came into the room.
+She looked paler and more girlish than he had ever
+dreamed she could look; her red-brown hair was coiled
+simply round her head, and her plain, white gown was as
+strange on her as the absence of her rings from her rose-white
+hands.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!”—she stopped at the sight of him—“Mr. Heriot,
+how did you—that is,” lamely, “I’m glad you are better!”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think you are, Mrs. Erle,” said Heriot’s blue
+eyes. Somehow, the very sight of her had strengthened
+the mistrust that was beginning to weaken.</p>
+
+<p>“I managed to escape my stern jailer,” he said lightly.
+“I suppose she thought my fever was catching, for she
+locked me in.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria turned scarlet. He saw quite well who had instructed
+Salome. She sat down quite composedly, though
+she did not look at him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Beryl, tell Salome we want tea, will you?” she said,
+and, as the door closed on the girl, turned to Heriot. “It
+was I who had you locked in,” she said hardly; “I was
+afraid you might be tempted out and make your fever
+worse.”</p>
+
+<p>“You were very kind,” the irony in his voice barely
+visible. “But I may as well tell you that Miss Corselas
+has told me all about this queer business.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you think I am paid by Mr. Egerton to get rid
+of her?” she said, without a flicker of her eyes. “I don’t
+think I am—yet! But I may be.”</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t let you do it,” he answered calmly.</p>
+
+<p>“Neither you nor any one else has a right to say that
+to me,” she said, very low. “Because you know my past
+is no reason I am all bad. And if I suspect Mr. Egerton
+a hundred times over, I must remember that he warned
+me to keep her out of danger. If he had meant her to
+run into it he would have held his tongue.”</p>
+
+<p>“He warned you, perhaps!” he was behaving like a cad,
+and he knew it. But he could not believe in the late
+Mrs. Erle.</p>
+
+<p>“He knows nothing of me, and cares less.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t you take the girl away from here, if you
+care for her?”</p>
+
+<p>“How? You forget I don’t even know where we are.
+Do you?”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot winced.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” he said unwillingly; “either Flores or Corvo, in
+the Azores, but in an uninhabited part of either.”</p>
+
+<p>“And I am to drag a delicate girl like that through
+miles of scrub, with no money if I do get to a town? If
+you think I knew what sort of place I was coming to you
+are mistaken. He told me this was Bermuda.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bermuda!”</p>
+
+<p>She nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“And I would think he meant us to live and die here
+if he had not said he would come back and take me away
+if I did not like it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he say he would take the girl?” he asked sharply.</p>
+
+<p>“I—no!” she stammered. “I suppose he meant it.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Yet you ask me to believe you know nothing of his
+plans?” he asked politely. “Do you know, Mrs. Erle, I
+have a great mind to help that poor child away myself?”</p>
+
+<p>Quick as light she had risen and stood looking down
+on him, her face as hard and brazen as that Andria Erle’s
+whom he had despised, all its new-found purity gone.</p>
+
+<p>“And do you think I would let you?” Her voice was
+soft as usual, but for once it was not gentle. “Why
+should I hand her over to any man, to suffer, perhaps, as
+I’ve suffered? Believe me or not as you like, but I will
+take care of her, against you and ten like you—against
+Egerton himself, when he comes!”</p>
+
+<p>“You couldn’t, if it came to main strength.”</p>
+
+<p>“Could you?”—she pointed to his foot that was still
+bandaged. He felt her contemptuous eyes on his body
+that was thin and shaken with fever. “And have you
+money that you could send her to England and take care
+of her? Supposing she and you ever got out of the
+scrub!</p>
+
+<p>“This is my house to all purposes. If I told the black
+women to put you out to-night they would do it. And I
+suppose you know what would come to you then! You
+can believe in me or not, as you like,” she said, with sudden
+quietude, “but you cannot dictate terms to me, or
+threaten me.”</p>
+
+<p>For a long minute there was utter silence in the room.
+Then Heriot, very white about the mouth, rose.</p>
+
+<p>“I have to beg your pardon,” he said. “You are quite
+right. I am in your debt.”</p>
+
+<p>But as he turned to go back to his old quarters and
+get away from this woman, she saw that she had only
+made him distrust her more determinedly.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">TRUSTED TOO LATE.</p>
+
+
+<p>To Heriot’s utter surprise, Salome at seven o’clock
+brought him a message that the ladies were expecting
+him at dinner. It occurred to him suddenly that second
+thoughts had convinced the late Mrs. Erle that a man
+who had been able to come to her secluded retreat would
+be able to get away from it, and that the strange disappearance
+of even an orphan girl might be a thing to
+report to the police. To be the jailer of a kidnaped
+damsel would not add glory to the record of any woman.</p>
+
+<p>Before Beryl neither of the two betrayed their private
+position. Andria was quiet, that was all. She let Heriot
+talk to the girl as freely as he liked, and, in spite of his
+prejudice, he saw that she never tried to stop any disclosures
+of the terror that haunted them at night.</p>
+
+<p>It was only when dinner was over that he saw her
+expression change. A quick remembrance had come to
+her. The servants had gone to bed; she dared not let
+even her enemy, who might at any minute betray Beryl’s
+faith in her, cross that courtyard in the dark.</p>
+
+<p>Walls were no obstacles to the evening visitors at the
+house; she had a quick, sickening vision of a snarling
+pounce, a sound of worrying, and then a scream and a
+crunching and tearing of flesh. And in the vision, too,
+something that squatted on the wall and hounded on its
+dreadful servants.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Heriot,” she had risen abruptly from the comfortable
+chair where her thoughts had been a torment
+that even Heriot might have pitied, thoughts of old days
+that had come back to her as if risen with this man from
+the dead, “Mr. Heriot, it’s dark! Do you know you can’t
+go back to your rooms?”</p>
+
+<p>“I never meant to,” he answered quietly. “Did you
+think that, after hearing all I have, I was going to leave
+you two alone to face the night?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span></p>
+
+<p>To his surprise, it was Beryl who bestowed a somber
+glance on him; there was a queer relief on Andria’s face.</p>
+
+<p>“You ought to have gone!” the girl cried. “You will
+only be a trouble here.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll try not to be,” he laughed, in spite of himself. “I
+can sleep quite well on this sofa.”</p>
+
+<p>“If you sleep anywhere!”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s right,” said Andria. “It will be worse if those
+beasts smell you out. You should have gone.”</p>
+
+<p>But, though she hated him for his unkindness, she was
+glad of his company. Even an extra dog would have
+been welcome in that house.</p>
+
+<p>“Let us hope they won’t scent me.” He was only half
+in earnest, thinking they exaggerated, as women do.</p>
+
+<p>“I can manage them,” said Beryl softly. “They’re
+tame, really,” and, without reason, Heriot’s heart thrilled
+with pride at the fearless, almost careless, voice.</p>
+
+<p>It was torture to Andria to sit in the room with the
+man who knew her history and despised her for it. It
+brought back those London nights with the supper-room
+windows open on a moonlit garden, when Andria Erle, in
+satin and diamonds, had fleeted time carelessly, reckless
+of what men thought of her. She cared now. She would
+have given all her beauty to have seen respect in Heriot’s
+eyes, casual acquaintance though he was. And the very
+way he turned his sentences brought back Raimond, haggard,
+brown-eyed, gentlemanly, with that way he had of
+smiling.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of herself her heart cried out for the man who
+had been her all. To shake off her thoughts she rose as
+soon as she dared, and carried Beryl off to bed.</p>
+
+<p>Heriot, left alone, remembered something.</p>
+
+<p>Salome, at a word from Andria, had produced cigars.
+He rummaged about and found them on a side table.
+They were Egerton’s, but Heriot was in no mood to be
+particular. He had had nothing to smoke in the three
+weeks he had been in this queer place.</p>
+
+<p>He lit a perfecto and leaned back in sweet content as
+the blue smoke curled upward. For a little while he forgot
+everything but the joy of his smoke, and then the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span>
+close heat of the room annoyed him. He limped over to
+a window and unbarred it, but hardly a breath came in.
+Without a thought of the tales of jaguars or their
+strange master, Heriot opened the veranda jalousies and
+sniffed the air of the gorgeous night.</p>
+
+<p>A honey-colored moon swam in the sky, even the colors
+of the flowers in the garden were visible, and the scent of
+oleander-blossoms rose like incense in his nostrils. With
+a sigh of content, he turned back into the room and
+picked up the only book it contained. The yellow pages
+opened of their own accord at a worn passage, and as he
+read it he wondered.</p>
+
+<p>“As sure as the turquoise attracts love and the amethyst
+repels it, so does the beryl bring bad dreams.”</p>
+
+<p>He turned to the title-page.</p>
+
+<p>“Jewels—Their Verye Majicke Vertue,” he saw in
+thick, old lettering, and went back to the passage he was
+reading.</p>
+
+<p>“This is a queer Beryl; I wonder if she will bring bad
+dreams,” he thought sleepily, as his cigar burned out.
+Too lazy to move, he dozed in his chair, while the lamps
+burned low and flickered in the rising breeze.</p>
+
+<p>A pleasant sound, hurrying, pattering, like heavy rain
+on a roof, soothed him dreamily.</p>
+
+<p>His head rested more heavily on the silk cushions of
+his deep chair; he still saw the dimly lighted room, but
+mistily, as in a dream.</p>
+
+<p>His eyelids fell at last, his long lashes rested on his
+brown cheek.</p>
+
+<p>The hurrying patter outside ceased.</p>
+
+<p>If any one looked with wild incredulity through the
+open jalousy Heriot did not see them; if softly and
+soundlessly something slipped in and crept behind his
+chair he did not hear, or know what curved, crooked
+fingers itched to clutch at his throat, and yet were kept
+from it by a cunning mind.</p>
+
+<p>The man was asleep; would stay asleep till—something
+woke him.</p>
+
+<p>A minute later Heriot opened his eyes, and leaped to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span>
+his feet as one who shakes off a dream at a half-heard
+sound.</p>
+
+<p>Had he seen, for one second, a face, jeering and malicious,
+glance back at him from the door into the passage?
+And did he see that door closing softly now?
+And did he hear quite close, and coming nearer, quick,
+yelping whines, as of beasts hunting?</p>
+
+<p>Heriot rushed to the open jalousy, tore it to him and
+barred it; shut and locked the window into the room.
+And not an instant too soon, for something soft, yet tremendously
+heavy, had hurled itself against his jalousy;
+but the good wood held.</p>
+
+<p>“The jaguars! It was true, then,” he thought almost
+unconsciously, for there was no time for thinking when
+something worse than a jaguar was on its way to those
+two defenseless women up-stairs. Regardless of his lameness,
+he raced up-stairs.</p>
+
+<p>There were lights everywhere, and perfect silence
+everywhere, too. Had he dreamed that evil, fleering face—that
+misshapen body, with its crooked claws of hands?</p>
+
+<p>A scream, so wild and dreadful in that lonely house
+that it turned his blood to fire, answered him. Yet the
+thrilling note of it was rage—not fear!</p>
+
+<p>“All right!” he shouted; “I’m coming!” and ran in the
+direction of the sound.</p>
+
+<p>Andria Erle, white as ashes, her teeth showing as her
+lips curled back from them, was half-facing him, as she
+threw Beryl back through a half-open door. As Heriot
+ran to her she banged it to, and shut it on the girl; and
+then he saw what sickened him. There were hands like
+claws clasped round Mrs. Erle’s bare throat, and a monster
+that bit buried in the nape of her lovely neck.</p>
+
+<p>“Bolt the door, Beryl—quick!” her voice came choked.
+“Never mind—me!”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot’s arms shot over her shoulder as she spoke.
+But he missed the ghastly thing that clung around her.
+He jumped to drag it off her, but it eluded him; with the
+noiseless spring of a cat it had dropped to the ground and
+vanished somewhere in the winding passage.</p>
+
+<p>Andria panted desperately.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Beryl is all right,” she said. “He can’t get at her.
+Beryl, can you let us in?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Oh, Andria!” in anguish, “no! The bolt’s
+stuck.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t move it, then.” Andria was trembling from
+head to foot. “Lock your window. Is Salome there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, missus! Wait, we’ll get you in.”</p>
+
+<p>“No!” with authority. “I’m all right; Mr. Heriot’s
+here. Don’t open that door, Salome, till I tell you to.
+Promise!”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t open it,” said the black woman with despair.
+“Oh, Miss Holbeach! Run somewhere—quick! He’s
+in; he’ll let dem in!”</p>
+
+<p>Andria clutched Heriot’s arm.</p>
+
+<p>“She’s right!” she cried. “Come! See my room. I
+left a light there, and now it’s dark!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll break the crazy brute’s neck!” said Heriot furiously.
+“Let go my arm, please!” To his anger, she was
+strong as he.</p>
+
+<p>“Not without a revolver,” she said imperiously. “Have
+you no sense? You can’t do anything but get killed—and
+then I’m gone, too. Come!”</p>
+
+<p>Even in his rage Heriot saw she was right. He was in
+no trim to fight a madman, with no weapon but his hands.</p>
+
+<p>In utter silence he ran with her up the lighted stairs
+and into the first room they came to. There was a lamp
+burning, for it was Egerton’s sitting-room, and by his
+orders never dark, even in his absence. But as they entered
+it they heard pattering footsteps on their trail.</p>
+
+<p>“Stop!” Andria caught Heriot as he would have shut
+the door. “We daren’t. He might get in at Beryl.”</p>
+
+<p>She seized a hard-stuffed bolster from a corner, and,
+before he could stop her, had sent it twice through the
+window, with a crash and fall of splintered glass. There
+was a veranda outside, but no jalousies; nothing to keep
+an evil thing imprisoned. With an irresistible force she
+dragged Heriot behind a table, whose cloth reached the
+ground, and made him crouch there beside her. His arm
+felt like iron under her fingers. He was waiting for a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span>
+fight, and saw nothing in her breaking the window but an
+attempt to fly that way, quickly abandoned as useless.</p>
+
+<p>The hurrying, relentless steps came in, stopped. Then,
+with a snarling cry of wordless rage, their strange enemy
+saw the open window. Like a flash, he bounded to it,
+through it; and Heriot, quicker than he had ever moved
+in his life, leaped after him. Andria pointed to a heavy
+chest of drawers.</p>
+
+<p>“That!” she cried. “Keep him out!” and, somehow,
+the two moved the heavy thing across the window. From
+outside, without a purchase, it would have taken a Sandow
+to move it; but the two, with one consent, moved
+quickly from the room. Heriot shut and locked the heavy
+door behind them, rejoicing in the iron clamps on the
+solid wood, but marveling no longer.</p>
+
+<p>“How did he get in?” cried Andria; she leaned against
+the wall, pale and trembling.</p>
+
+<p>“Come back to Beryl. It’s all right now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” but he did not move. “Turn round,” he said
+authoritatively; “let me see your neck! Do you know
+that brute bit you?”</p>
+
+<p>His whole manner utterly changed, and he laid a hand
+on her shoulder, where her white dressing-gown was torn
+to ribbons. He felt a shudder run through her.</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t—feel it!” she said jerkily. “I was so frightened
+for Beryl.”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot’s face was dark with shame.</p>
+
+<p>“My God!” he muttered as he saw the deep marks of
+teeth in the nape of her neck. “I ought to be kicked.
+Mrs. Erle, I have to beg your pardon a thousand times.
+I’ve behaved like a beastly cad. I—do you know, it’s all
+my fault?”</p>
+
+<p>“Is it deep? Will it be poisoned?” She took no heed
+of his words, and he saw that at last there was terror in
+her face.</p>
+
+<p>“No!” he lied bravely, sickening at the jagged marks,
+where the blood oozed. “Come here! Where can I get
+some water?” but as he spoke his quick eye caught a can
+standing at the head of the stairs, ready to fill the morning
+baths.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Kneel down, and don’t be frightened, please,” he said
+gently. “If there is any poison I’ll get it out.”</p>
+
+<p>Half-mad with disgust, she did not realize what he
+meant to do till she felt his lips on her neck. He was
+sucking the poison from the wound!</p>
+
+<p>At first she nearly flung him from her, and then she
+buried her face in her hands. There was no one else.
+Beryl she could not let do it, and Salome was black.
+But Andria was whiter than marble and cold from head
+to foot. When the sickening business was done, as she
+rose from her knees she staggered.</p>
+
+<p>“I ought to thank you,” but she did not look at him.
+“You——”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not fit to black your shoes,” he cut her short, with
+a queer sound in his voice. “For God’s sake, Mrs. Erle,
+forgive me if you can. I thought you were on Egerton’s
+side, and in his pay to get rid of the girl. And I’ve just
+seen you ready to chuck your life away for her.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not what you think me. I never was.” She put
+her hand to her throat and cried out at the pain of the
+bruised flesh she touched.</p>
+
+<p>“I think you are a good woman,” said Heriot, “and the
+bravest on God’s earth. I can’t forgive myself. Do you
+know, it was I let that brute in?”</p>
+
+<p>From very weakness the tears came in her eyes as he
+told her how; yet spoke up bravely.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t care. I’m not frightened of the bite if you
+trust me now. You’ve seen—you must believe me!”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot looked at her, pale and wild in her torn dressing-gown,
+her beautiful face ghastly. This was the
+woman he had dared to judge; and she had dared to risk
+her life for the very girl he had thought she meant to betray.
+And it was he who had really caused that wound
+that bled still. He could have gone on his knees in his
+shame and humiliation.</p>
+
+<p>“Come,” he said quietly, “get the others to let you in,
+and go to bed.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t sleep;” she shook like a leaf, but she followed
+him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span></p>
+
+<p>Salome got the door open in what seemed an endless
+time, as Andria stood outside with chattering teeth.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Holbeach!” the woman cried wildly, “it’s daylight!
+An’ I heard de engines in de bay. De ship’s got
+back!” she ran past Andria to the top of the house.</p>
+
+<p>The world lay quiet in the hour of daybreak, and Egerton’s
+yacht lay at anchor in the gray wanness of the calm
+water.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">AN UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">“‘Bone of thy bone,’ said God to Adam.</div>
+    <div class="verse indent1">‘Core of my core,’ say I to thee.”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>“You’re sure, Salome?” Andria cried. Too stiff and
+weary to move, only her eyes looked alive in her pale
+face.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s de boat, it mayn’t be him. Oh, my land, Miss
+Holbeach, dey’s blood on you dress! He’ll kill me.
+Honey, let ole Salome see! Whata done got yer?”</p>
+
+<p>But Heriot saw she knew.</p>
+
+<p>“If it is Egerton,” he observed grimly, “he won’t have
+everything his own way. He’ll be amenable enough
+when he finds he hasn’t only women to bully.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria started.</p>
+
+<p>“He mustn’t find you here!” she cried. “Perhaps he
+has come to take us away. You must go back to the
+quarters till I find out what he means to do.”</p>
+
+<p>“We can’t go away and leave him here!” said Beryl
+sharply, pointing to Heriot.</p>
+
+<p>“We won’t. If Egerton means to take us back to
+England we’ll make him take Mr. Heriot, too. He
+mayn’t know how dreadful things are here—he may be
+better than we think.”</p>
+
+<p>“He knows, honey,” said Salome pitifully. “Don’t you
+put no trust in dat.”</p>
+
+<p>“You must hide, don’t you see it?” Andria repeated.
+“This is Egerton’s house. If he finds you here he can
+turn you out. And then what help could you be to us?”</p>
+
+<p>“He’d have his work cut out,” Heriot returned, almost
+smiling, standing straight and tall among the three
+women.</p>
+
+<p>“He wouldn’t cut out no more’n he could do,” observed
+Salome dryly. “Dat crew on board dat yacht is all cutthroat
+dagos, dey’d do whatever he tell ’em, knife you
+or drown you. I been six years in dis house, and you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span>
+mind me—dey ain’t no chance here in a fight for any one
+but Mr. Egerton heself!”</p>
+
+<p>“If you want to help us,” begged Andria, “go into the
+quarters and wait. Chloe and Amelia Jane won’t tell,
+they’re too frightened of him to speak to him if they can
+help it.” It was the best way. To see a strange man
+here might turn Egerton’s good intentions into bad ones.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I can’t!” said Heriot, with an angry laugh. “I’d
+rather have things out with the man.”</p>
+
+<p>A slim, cool hand was on his wrist as he spoke.</p>
+
+<p>“Wait and see,” said Beryl. “Please, Mr. Heriot. Then
+if he means badly to us you’ll be here to help us.”</p>
+
+<p>Voice and touch were exactly like a child’s. Heriot
+flushed as he met the tawny eyes that were so innocent.</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” he returned reluctantly. “But if there’s
+going to be any delay about taking you away from this
+you’ll let me know, won’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>Andria nodded. This girl, fresh from the convent,
+had bent the man’s will as all her own worldly wisdom
+could not do. She glanced from one to the other with a
+pang at her heart. Love was a bitter thing. If it grew
+up between them how would it end? She bit her lip, remembering
+her own love’s beginning.</p>
+
+<p>Salome had run out into the veranda. She came back
+now frowning with excitement.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s him, he’s back! Coming up de path wid two
+sailors,” she cried. “Whatever’ll we do if he sees Mr.
+Heriot?”</p>
+
+<p>“He won’t!” said Beryl promptly. “Mr. Heriot’s
+going into the quarters to wait and see what happens.
+Chloe and Amelia won’t tell.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ain’t no sense in trusting dem niggers. You stay
+here, and I’ll tell ’em you’re gone—went last night. Dey
+won’t tell you’s been here when dey might tell you is
+here,” she said shrewdly, and she was off and back before
+it seemed possible.</p>
+
+<p>“Come, down de side stairs,” she whispered. “Chloe
+and ’Melia’s comin’ up de front ones now to get ready
+master’s room. Hurry!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span></p>
+
+<p>She dragged him off as she spoke, and Beryl turned to
+Andria.</p>
+
+<p>“What are you going to do?” she asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Look!” said Andria, and bent down.</p>
+
+<p>The girl drew back with a cry.</p>
+
+<p>“You got that, to save me!”</p>
+
+<p>“I got it, anyhow,” grimly. “I’ll show him that and
+the broken window in his room where the man went out.
+I dare him to leave us here after that. I wonder what
+brought him back so soon?”</p>
+
+<p>“He could have been here before. It’s only six days
+to England. Andria, do you think he’s come to take us
+away?”</p>
+
+<p>“What else?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” said Beryl, very low. “But I think he
+hates me worse than Mother Felicitas did. Listen; don’t
+tell him those jaguars are tame—don’t tell him I play
+with the kittens. Let him think we’re afraid.”</p>
+
+<p>“I am afraid. There’s no thinking about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tell him about the crazy man, make more of that, for
+that’s really the root of all,” Beryl persisted, with more
+truth than she knew.</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t you want him to know the beasts aren’t
+really dangerous?”</p>
+
+<p>“They are,” coolly, “as far as he is concerned. Andria,
+are you going to meet him like that, all torn and
+bloody?” looking at the other woman’s flimsy muslin
+gown, whose real lace was in shreds.</p>
+
+<p>“It won’t hurt him to see it, I had to feel it,” Andria
+answered dully. “Beryl, did you notice something last
+night? When that dreadful, wizened creature came jabbering
+into our room last night, it wasn’t you he sprang
+at, it was I! If he had made for you I couldn’t have
+done anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“I saw,” but to Andria’s surprise she broke into a passion
+of tears. “Oh, Andria,” she sobbed, “what’s wrong
+with me that all strange things fear me? Am I half a
+beast, or crazy, like that dumb, jabbering man?”</p>
+
+<p>But Andria never answered. For once she let the girl<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span>
+she loved cry to her in vain. She was on her feet,
+breathless, listening with every nerve.</p>
+
+<p>Did every one who came to this dreadful house lose
+their senses? or did she in very truth hear a voice she
+had never thought to hear this side of the grave?</p>
+
+<p>Frantic, she hushed the girl who sobbed beside her.</p>
+
+<p>“Be quiet, listen!” her hand like a vise on Beryl’s
+shoulder. “There’s some one else there with Mr. Egerton.”</p>
+
+<p>A man’s voice, sweet and drawling, came up the stairs
+from the entrance-hall.</p>
+
+<p>“By George! You do yourself well in your country
+retreat. The man must have been crazy to sell it to you
+for such a song!”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps he was,” the answer was dry and significant.
+“My dear boy,” Egerton said in his ordinary tone, “did
+you expect me to keep my ward in a tent?”</p>
+
+<p>Andria staggered back against Beryl, whose tears had
+dried on her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m faint,” she muttered, “ill. Tell them they can’t
+see me. I’m going to bed.”</p>
+
+<p>The strength gone from her muscles, her feet barely
+carrying her, she wrenched herself from Beryl’s hold and
+crept, more than walked, to her room. That was Egerton
+down-stairs, and with him was—Raimond Erle!</p>
+
+<p>Why was he here? What had brought him?</p>
+
+<p>She flung herself down on her bed, laughing and crying
+with incredulous joy. There could be but one reason,
+he must have found out from Egerton that she was here;
+must have wearied for her as she had for him, and come
+himself to tell her that that letter was all a lie; that she
+was still his wife, always had been and always would be,
+world without end.</p>
+
+<p>“Thank God! Oh, thank God!” gasped Andria Erle,
+face down on her bed. She knew now that she could
+never forget the man who had been all hers, never look
+on any other but with indifferent eyes. She could forgive
+Egerton for all the mystery that was round her,
+could thank him even with that smarting wound at the
+back of her neck that had brought her here. She had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span>
+been but half-alive all these weeks, a ghost of herself.
+Now she could rise again as from her grave, and dress
+herself to go down fresh and fair when Raimond sent for
+her. For the first time she was glad the French maid
+had disobeyed her and packed the gowns she had never
+meant to wear again.</p>
+
+<p>Not even a thought of all she had to forgive crossed
+her mind. He was here, he had come for her; that was
+all.</p>
+
+<p>She rose with feverish haste. There was a pale lilac
+gown he had liked—“he said I looked like spring in it,”
+she thought, hunting in her boxes till she found it.</p>
+
+<p>She looked like spring indeed when she had it on and
+remembered the day he had bought it for her. It deepened
+her blue-gray eyes into violet, set off her cream-white
+skin and ruddy hair. Heriot, the past night, forgotten
+as if they had never been, she stared at herself.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m handsomer than I was,” she thought, with a leaping
+heart, “fairer, softer! He will be glad, glad when he
+sees me. But I won’t go down till he sends.”</p>
+
+<p>The soft lilac stuff fell in lovely folds round her as she
+turned at a knock at the door.</p>
+
+<p>“Come in!” she cried; she could not make her voice
+quiet. “Come in.”</p>
+
+<p>It was Amelia Jane, carrying her breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought you was sick!” she cried. “My soul, I
+dunno when I see you look so well.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m better—well! Tell me”—the question came beyond
+her will—“did—did Mr. Egerton send me any message?
+Is Miss Beryl at breakfast?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes’m. She an’ Mr. Egerton an’ another gentleman.
+No, he didn’t send no message.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very well,” she said, her voice oddly flat and unmusical.</p>
+
+<p>“Put the breakfast down, please, Amelia.”</p>
+
+<p>But when the woman was gone she made no attempt to
+eat; only sank into a chair as if her new-found strength
+had somehow failed her. If she had been in Raimond
+Erle’s place, could she have waited all this time?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Not one minute of it,” said her starving heart. “Not
+one minute!”</p>
+
+<p>The color faded from her face as she sat and watched
+the clock. Ten minutes, twenty, three-quarters of an
+hour—and he had not come, though breakfast must long
+have been over. She could not sit still and wait like this,
+dared not go down and meet him before the others.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll get up and walk up and down. Perhaps by the
+time I count a thousand steps he’ll be here! Only a
+thousand little steps, dear saints, and I’ll see him, kiss
+him, be in his arms.”</p>
+
+<p>She had barely counted a hundred in her wild walk
+when a man’s step sounded in the hall, a man’s knock on
+her door.</p>
+
+<p>Radiant, triumphant, incredulous of her own joy, she
+sprang to the door and flung it wide.</p>
+
+<p>Every drop of blood in her body seemed to surge back
+to her heart. Egerton, tall, suave, middle-aged, stood on
+her threshold.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">STRANGERS.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">“Thou shalt meet him, but wilt thou greet him?”</div>
+    <div class="verse indent38">“Ah, no.”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>“My dear Miss Holbeach,” he said, “good morning. I
+am sorry to find you not well. I hope my unexpected
+arrival did not startle you.”</p>
+
+<p>And indeed she looked ill enough, and startled enough
+for anything, as she leaned hard on the door-handle that
+she might not fall. Every vestige of color had gone from
+her face, even her lips were ashy.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m only faint—I had a fright,” she could only mutter
+incoherently, as she tried for the breath that came so
+hardly, “a fright—last night.”</p>
+
+<p>“My poor lady,” he said quite kindly. “I see you are
+altogether unstrung. I came to ask you to come to my
+room. I wish to tell you——”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! not there,” she cried, with an uncontrollable
+shudder. “Not there!”</p>
+
+<p>“May I come in here, then?” he asked courteously.
+“This is your sitting-room, I imagine.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria glanced backward at the door she had so carefully
+closed that Raimond Erle might not see her disordered
+bedroom, where she had thrown down gown
+after gown in the search for this one that should please
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“Come in,” she said, with white lips, anxious only to
+get the door into the passage shut lest Raimond might
+pass by, and Egerton looked at her covertly as she sank
+into a chair, too nerveless to stand. There must have
+been wild work here to make this woman look as she did.
+He had heard nothing from either Beryl or Salome, who
+had both been silent and sullen; but he knew from Andria’s
+face that she had seen what perhaps he had meant
+her to see when he brought her here, but what now—since
+his purpose had changed—he had nearly burst the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span>
+boilers of his yacht in trying to get here in time to prevent.</p>
+
+<p>For Andria was right, he had never meant to return,
+his warnings to her and Salome had all been a blind;
+Beryl Corselas, when first he found her, had been a burden
+to get rid of, he had not dared to let her stay in England
+or let his name be heard in connection with her.
+Here in this island he had meant her to disappear for
+good and all—but, of course, to his deep sorrow and surprise!
+He was so careful a scoundrel that he had acted
+a part even before the servant who was his miserable
+slave and the woman he had engaged because of her
+probable unscrupulousness. That he had warned them
+had been all that kept Egerton from cursing himself for
+a fool all the way from England. One paragraph in a
+paper had made those sham warnings real. Lord Erceldonne
+had sent for his son, and two days after set out in
+hot haste for his secret retreat, terrified that his plans
+might have flourished so well as to ruin him.</p>
+
+<p>In the long pause Andria’s slow pulses were loud in
+her ears; but she had pulled herself together. After all,
+it was natural that Egerton should come first, natural
+that he should be puzzled how to open a difficult subject;
+and of course he must be in Raimond’s confidence.
+But when he did speak it was not about the man he had
+brought with him.</p>
+
+<p>“Miss Holbeach,” he said slowly, “you said you had
+been frightened. Do you mean in this house? Or out of
+doors? I warned you, you remember!”</p>
+
+<p>“You warned me, and yet you left me here with a defenseless
+girl,” she said almost inaudibly. She cared
+little now for the horrors she had suffered; he had come
+to take them away. Raimond was here; it was all past
+and gone.</p>
+
+<p>“There was no reason not to leave you here,” he lied
+calmly. “I will be quite frank with you, there had been a
+reason; but I learned from Salome that it had quite disappeared.”</p>
+
+<p>There was a sort of lethargy in Andria’s soul; nothing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span>
+mattered now but Raimond. Yet at the plausible untruth
+she shook it off.</p>
+
+<p>“It appeared again the very night you left here!” she
+cried. “A man came, a little, wizened man, like an ape,
+that hurried around the house and climbed up the jalousies
+like a monkey. And the next day I saw his face
+over my shoulder in the pond, a leering thing that
+mouthed at me——”</p>
+
+<p>“The pond! I told you to keep away from that path,”
+the anger that was sincere at last steadied her nerves.</p>
+
+<p>“I went to get Beryl. She had strayed there.” The
+governess looked him in the face with eyes that were
+magnificent. “I took care that she never went again.
+But that’s not all. There are beasts here, dreadful
+jaguars. All night long they hunt and sniff about the
+house, they climb the jalousies and—I’ve seen their
+eyes!” with a shudder. “Oh, Mr. Egerton, take us
+away!”</p>
+
+<p>The man had started to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“It is what I came to do,” he answered hurriedly.
+“Believe me, I had no idea of this. I thought the place
+was safe—Salome said so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Safe for white women!” She rose, too, as the scornful
+cry broke from her. “I will show you how safe it is.
+Look here!” She pulled down the lace and ribbon at the
+back of her collar. “Look at that. Do you know there
+was nearly murder done here last night. I don’t know
+why there wasn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>She bent her head, and at sight of the double rows of
+deep-crimson punctures where the piece had been all but
+bitten out, the man who had brought her to this evil
+place was dumb, though a month ago it might have
+suited him well enough. She straightened her collar
+again with trembling fingers.</p>
+
+<p>“What did that?” Egerton moistened his lips. “Not a
+beast? You—you never could have got away!”</p>
+
+<p>“A man,” she said quietly, “a man, dumb, and crazy,
+and strong, so strong that only God saved me from him.
+We were standing in Beryl’s room when he came in on
+us, running, stooping so low that he seemed to be on all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span>
+fours. I ran between him and Beryl and he jumped on
+my back. I felt his teeth through my flesh. I ran out
+into the hall with his fingers round my throat and shut
+the door on the girl. Then”—her hesitation was so momentary
+that he did not see it—“something frightened
+the thing. It let me go and I ran. Did you see there was
+a chest of drawers against your sitting-room window?
+It was I put it there. I broke the window when I
+ran in there, and the man thought I had gone out
+through the broken pane and followed me. I moved
+the chest—locked the door”—her chest heaved at the
+memory; tears born of that suspense that was eating at
+her heart blinded her. “Oh, surely you didn’t know what
+you were leaving us to!” she cried.</p>
+
+<p>“Where was Salome?” He was not given to swearing,
+but he barely kept in a furious oath.</p>
+
+<p>“In Beryl’s bedroom. She saw nothing, knew nothing
+till I and—that thing—were out in the hall. She has
+done everything to keep us safe.”</p>
+
+<p>“Whereas you evidently think I brought you here to be
+murdered!” he returned, a queer look in his black eyes
+that seemed blacker than ever. “Well, I can’t wonder if
+you do! Sit down, please, and rest. I owe you a very
+deep gratitude.”</p>
+
+<p>He bent his head to hide his face, which was not grateful.
+In his inmost soul he would have been glad if this
+foolhardy woman had behaved like a good, sensible coward.
+It would have cut the knot that galled him night
+and day, though it would have cost him a fortune. Perhaps
+not that, he would have been in a position to seek
+other girls with money.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a long story,” he cut off his thoughts hastily,
+since what was done was done, “but I must tell it to you
+to explain. Might I smoke? You don’t mind? Perhaps
+you will have a cigarette yourself?”</p>
+
+<p>“I? No, I never smoke,” she said, with annoyed surprise.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Egerton broke out into that hoarse cackle of a
+laugh that always jarred on Andria’s nerves. He had
+noticed cigar smoke heavy in the shut-up drawing-room<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span>
+the very instant he had entered the house at dawn; had
+seen the butt of one of his own cigars reposing in a
+flower-pot. And now the governess’ hasty lie amused
+him even in his annoyance. A cigar, too, of all things!</p>
+
+<p>“Many women do smoke, even cigars,” he said urbanely.
+“I beg your pardon if I thought you had the
+habit. It seemed quite possible.”</p>
+
+<p>Then he did know about her past when the few
+women she had known smoked like chimneys! She never
+remembered having told Salome that Heriot must have
+cigars; she only wished Egerton would go on. Would
+he never get to Raimond Erle? She looked at his face
+and imagined it pleased him to tantalize her.</p>
+
+<p>“What does it all mean?” she asked. “Though I suppose
+it doesn’t matter if we are going away.”</p>
+
+<p>“It does matter. I don’t want you to think me a murderer,”
+he said, so gently that it brought back to her another
+voice which each minute seemed an hour till she
+heard. “But I must go back a long way to make you
+understand. Twenty years ago I saw this place first. I
+was yachting and found it by chance. The house stood
+exactly as it does now, but it was surrounded by magnificent
+gardens, was full of servants and luxury. There
+were only two people in it, a retired planter of forty, and
+his daughter. She was the most beautiful person I have
+ever seen, but that,” hastily, “was not my affair, nor, if
+her father could help it, any one else’s. I saw then the
+man was mad. He told me he would shoot the first man
+who wished to marry his daughter, had brought her
+here out of the world that she might live and die unmarried;
+a girl who was more beautiful than any woman
+alive!</p>
+
+<p>“‘He would not have her suffer as women suffered,’
+he said. ‘All men were cruel, she should not be at the
+mercy of any.’ She was his idol. His only other interest
+was wild animals. He had a regular menagerie—lions, a
+tiger, jaguars—and he and that girl would play with
+them as if they were lambs. It used to make my blood
+run cold to see them. She would sit among the jaguars
+crooning a queer song”—Andria’s hands that lay on her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span>
+knees clenched with the effort not to cry out; did he
+know how dreadful a thing he was telling her? did he
+mean the madman’s daughter was Beryl’s mother?—“till
+the beasts came fawning round her like a kitten. Oh, I
+know it sounds like a fairy-tale! But I saw it.”</p>
+
+<p>Only her innate caution, her habit of distrust, kept her
+from a quick disclosure. Long afterward she knew she
+had saved her life by holding her peace.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I went away! The girl was nothing to me,” he
+continued, looking not at Andria, but his half-smoked
+cigarette, so that, being a woman, she knew the girl had
+been everything to him and he nothing at all to her. “I
+came back again two years afterward—and I would not
+have known the place. The beautiful gardens were a
+tangle of creepers and weeds, the servants were all gone;
+the animals dead from starvation in their enclosures, all
+but the jaguars, that had broken loose and foraged for
+themselves. The man I found at last, ragged, thin, half-naked,
+and at first he would not speak to me; would only
+jabber at me without words.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then it was he!” she gasped.</p>
+
+<p>“Wait,” he nodded. “He was dumb, mad, but by and
+by his madness cleared a little and he told me what had
+happened. A stranger had come to the island; it was the
+old story that I need not dwell on”—reflecting hastily
+that it was one this woman probably knew from cover to
+cover. “She defied her father and ran away with him in
+a native boat. The man dismissed his servants and sat
+alone in his misery, and then heard that all his money,
+which had been in Brazilian bonds, was lost. He had not
+a penny to go and seek her through the world. He forgot,
+as I said, even his animals; almost forgot the use of
+his tongue, for only at intervals could I make him talk.
+Well, I was sorry for him!” What vindictive light lit
+his eyes to her sharp vision! “I liked the place and
+bought it for a toy, merely that the old man,” he continued
+slowly, “might be free to go and find his daughter
+who had deserted him.”</p>
+
+<p>The words were so gently spoken that it took all her
+cleverness to grasp their meaning. He had tried to set<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span>
+a madman on the track of the woman who had refused
+him and the man she had loved. Her eyes dilated with
+abhorrence, and yet his next words came so smoothly that
+she did not know what to think, and there was no one
+to tell her how cunningly he was mingling the truth with
+lies.</p>
+
+<p>“You would have pitied him, too; he had aged twenty
+years in the two that had passed. All he wanted was to
+find his daughter, yet when I gave him money he was too
+crazy to go. He threw it before my eyes into that pond
+you spoke of and went off to some lair in the woods with
+his jaguars.” He did not say how pitifully inadequate
+had been the purchase-money, nor that the lawful owner
+had been hunted away by men with guns. “In all the
+years I have been coming here I have only once had any
+evidence that he was alive”—that once would have made
+any other man long for the grave that he might hide his
+shame there!—“and Salome, who has been in charge here
+for six years, swore to me when I brought you that the
+place was safe. I am more shocked and horrified than I
+can say that you should have been in such danger from
+that lunatic and his animals. To-morrow, if you like, I
+will have my yacht’s crew scour the country till we find
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let him be,” said Andria pitifully. “Besides, if we
+are going away! And we shall be quite safe with you in
+the house”—“and Raimond!” she added in her mind, the
+thought of him bringing light to her eyes, color to her
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, exactly,” he agreed quickly, though he had no
+idea of sleeping in the house or letting the man he had
+brought with him sleep there either. That madman
+would tear him limb from limb if he could; Mr. Egerton
+knew only too well that the very sight of him would
+rouse boundless fury in the dumb thing that ran up and
+down the deserted gardens whence his delight had fled.
+He would never dare to stay in the house knowing that
+his crazy enemy had ever been able to enter it.</p>
+
+<p>“How did he get in?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I don’t quite know,” she stammered. “I was up-stairs.”</p>
+
+<p>She had forgotten all about Heriot stuffed away in the
+servants’ quarters till now. She had it on the tip of her
+tongue to avow everything, but something furtive, dishonest,
+in Egerton’s face stopped her.</p>
+
+<p>“Better wait,” she thought. “I can tell Raimond first.
+He will know what to do.”</p>
+
+<p>And though Egerton had explained far more than he
+had imagined to her all was not clear yet. As he rose to
+go she rose, too, and looked at him.</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you tell me this was Bermuda?” she asked
+suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>“From inadvertency, at first—the house is called Bermuda.
+Then because I feared you would rebel against
+being banished to an uninhabited part of the Azores. I
+fancied you had not been accustomed to—dulness!” and
+at the covert meaning of the words and the lie that began
+them, she caught her breath. There had been no inadvertence
+in his mention of Bermuda, first or last.</p>
+
+<p>“I wanted Beryl out of England, you’re right!” he
+added, as if he knew what was in her mind. “I pitied
+her. I had no wish to see a long arm stretched out from
+the convent to claim her, for of course she has told you
+her story. I hope to see her happily married, not dragging
+out existence in prison, all but the name. And I
+knew no other place to put her. But that,” with his queer
+laugh, “will be remedied now.”</p>
+
+<p>Something in the assured expectancy of his voice woke
+a dreadful thought in Andria Erle. Like a flash the
+glamour fell from her eyes, she put two and two together.
+He meant to see Beryl safely married; he had
+brought Raimond Erle to this place; the things dovetailed
+with horrible accuracy, though she could not see
+what Raimond had to do with Egerton.</p>
+
+<p>“You mean——” she said; she could hardly speak.</p>
+
+<p>“I mean one never knows what the day may bring
+forth,” he answered lightly. “If you look from your
+window you may understand.”</p>
+
+<p>She had no need to. Their voices, Beryl’s and Raimond’s,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span>
+came up to her gaily where she stood. Had she
+been deaf not to have heard them before?</p>
+
+<p>It was as if a gulf of darkness had opened under her
+feet, yet she would not flinch if pride could keep her
+steady. Raimond—did Egerton mean it was for her sake
+he had come?</p>
+
+<p>Egerton, watching the hot color come and go in the
+governess’ face, wondered he had never seen how beautiful
+she was. She would be a dangerous rival for that
+half-fledged girl down-stairs. He hoped there were not
+going to be any troublesome complications.</p>
+
+<p>“You are not coming down to-day, you said!” he suggested.
+“Perhaps you are right, and it would be well to
+rest.”</p>
+
+<p>She was ready to say she would go down now, this
+instant, when she remembered he was her master; that
+governesses did not always come to the table with guests.</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps it would,” she answered, and the coldness of
+her voice pleased him.</p>
+
+<p>“I have not mentioned you, at least your name,” he
+had the grace not to look at her, even though he had no
+idea she and Erle had ever met; “I thought, perhaps, you
+would prefer not to meet strangers.”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” and by good luck he did not see her face, “not
+strangers, though there is no earthly reason you should
+not mention my name,” for Holbeach would mean nothing
+to Raimond. “I will go down when you send for
+me.”</p>
+
+<p>As the door closed behind him she caught at the table
+to hold herself up. Her eyes were narrowed to slits, and
+her nostrils pinched as she breathed. From the scented
+shade of the oleanders below her there floated up a man’s
+laugh, low and sweet. Agony racked her as even she had
+not known it could without killing her.</p>
+
+<p>“Strangers,” she said in a dreadful whisper, “he
+and I!”</p>
+
+<p>Her face convulsed out of all beauty, she ran to the
+window and looked out behind the jalousy. In the garden,
+tall, handsome in a haggard, hard-bitten way—and
+oh, God, beloved!—lounged the man who had been her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span>
+husband for five years. It took all her will to crush back
+the cry on her lips. She knew from his face it was not
+for her he had come back. He had forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>“Then why is he here?” she asked herself. But she
+dared not answer her own soul.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">BEHIND THE CYPRESS BOUGHS.</p>
+
+
+<p>“Andria!” a soft tap came at her locked door. “Let
+me in. Why haven’t you been down all day?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was busy,” Andria answered, shutting the door behind
+Beryl. She had been busy, indeed, and if Egerton
+had seen her now he would have had no fears that her
+beauty might be a snare to any man’s feet. The pale
+mauve gown had vanished with all the others that littered
+her bedroom; in the plainest black gown she owned,
+Andria stood, tall and pale, her eyes sunken, her mouth
+drawn; it was as if she had aged ten years.</p>
+
+<p>Beryl sat down on the table, a bright rose spot burning
+in each cheek.</p>
+
+<p>“I wish you’d come down. I don’t like it without
+you,” she said restlessly. “Isn’t your throat well
+enough?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. I’d forgotten it. Why do you want
+me? Don’t you like—him?” for her life she could not
+say the name.</p>
+
+<p>“Who? Mr. Egerton. I’ve always loathed him,”
+Beryl said angrily, “and I always shall. If it were not
+for being with you, I’d rather he’d left me in the workhouse!”</p>
+
+<p>“No”—hesitating—“the other?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. No, I don’t think I do! I liked him
+when I was with him, but I hate him when I remember
+his eyes. He looked at me as if I were something to
+eat,” she said pettishly. “No, I don’t like him. He
+frightens me.”</p>
+
+<p>“How?” incredulously. Any other than Beryl she
+would have turned from contemptuously if they had
+dared to criticize Raimond Erle. “What do you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know exactly. But he wanted me to go out
+in the yacht with him this afternoon, and I said I
+wouldn’t without you. I wouldn’t go anywhere alone
+with him.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Without me! You said—Beryl, quick, what did you
+call me? Not Andria?” white as death she stood over
+the girl.</p>
+
+<p>“No. I did slip and say Miss Heathcote, but I corrected
+myself and said Miss Holbeach. Why do you
+look like that? He didn’t notice. You don’t mean he
+knows you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not now,” said Andria, holding herself hard. “He
+did, once. What did he say when you slipped on my
+name?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing. Half-shut his eyes like some people do
+when they smell a nasty smell.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re more truthful than polite.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you asked me, and that was exactly how he
+did look. Mr. Egerton swam into the conversation with
+something about ‘Miss Holbeach being my governess and
+an excellent woman,’ and Mr. Erle looked comfortable
+again.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria did not wonder. “An excellent woman!” No
+words could have been found that would have better set
+Raimond at rest.</p>
+
+<p>“Did he say any more?” she asked wretchedly.</p>
+
+<p>Beryl turned crimson.</p>
+
+<p>“No, he—he’s a beast, and I hate him!” she said passionately.
+“He said he was glad I did not produce you
+at meals; learned ladies took away his appetite.”</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t interfere with it; he needn’t agitate himself!
+Beryl, dear, don’t speak of me to him; don’t tell him my
+Christian name, and don’t let Heathcote slip again. I
+knew him once. I don’t want him to know I’m here. At
+least,” hastily, “not now.”</p>
+
+<p>Every pulse of her longed to meet him, but not before
+Egerton and Beryl. If she was to go to England in
+the same ship she must see him first, but it should be
+no chance meeting before strangers.</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t say a word about you,” and, with a rare
+caress, she flung her arms round Andria’s neck—“if you
+say not. Are you afraid of him, too?”</p>
+
+<p>“No!” said Andria sharply. “I can’t meet any one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span>
+I ever knew till I’m better—that’s all. See how ugly
+and swollen my throat is.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hate you being hurt for me. I wish it had been me
+that was bitten!” Beryl said, with more force than
+grammar.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you tell him about that?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I didn’t! I don’t believe he would have listened
+if I had. He only talked nonsense.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you mean he made love to you? Bah! Don’t
+answer me,” she cried, “I was a fool to ask. He would
+make love to a girl who kept pigs, if she were pretty.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want him to think I’m pretty!” said Beryl,
+ruffled as a cat stroked the wrong way, utterly ignorant
+of the way she was betraying her own thoughts. “What
+have you done about Mr. Heriot? Have you told?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; I—waited!” answered Andria, with a ghastly
+smile, knowing she had waited for what would never be.
+“Beryl, come here, look! There go Mr. Egerton and—his
+friend—down to the shore. What for, do you suppose?”</p>
+
+<p>“Didn’t you know? They’re not going to stay here.
+They’re going to dine and sleep on board the yacht and
+come back in the morning. And Mr. Erle isn’t his
+friend—he’s his nephew. That’s why I came; I thought
+we might go”—flushing—“and speak to Mr. Heriot.
+Didn’t you get anything out of Mr. Egerton about our
+going away? And did he say anything about that dreadful
+man, and the jaguars?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Andria, as if she talked in her sleep. “I’ll
+tell you by and by.” She leaned from the window looking
+after the man whose shoulders and walk she would
+know among a thousand. He knew nothing of her being
+here. Beryl’s slip of “Heathcote” had been to him only
+a disagreeable coincidence, reminding him of things he
+wished to forget. Then, what had brought him?</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl!” It was as if another person had spoken aloud
+in her ear. “Egerton means to marry him to Beryl!”</p>
+
+<p>She could think of no reason why, and yet she was
+sure. And why not? For all she knew, Beryl Corselas<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span>
+might be any one’s daughter, and whatever her secret
+history was, Egerton must know it.</p>
+
+<p>“He’ll never do it, never! Whether I’m Raimond’s
+wife or not, I’ll stop it,” she thought, wild passion at
+her heart. “I’ll tell anything, everything. Mr. Heriot
+will back me up——”</p>
+
+<p>Beryl pinched her.</p>
+
+<p>“What are you dreaming about, with your face all
+screwed up?” she said. “Let’s go and see Mr. Heriot.
+How those two men do loiter! If they’re going, why
+don’t they go?”</p>
+
+<p>Andria stared at her. Beryl—Raimond—Heriot—what
+a tangle it was! And would Heriot back her up? He
+knew nothing of her but that she had been called “the
+Lovely Andria,” and had been thought to have fastened
+like a leech on Raimond Erle, dragging him to that
+financial ruin which had certainly overtaken him—though
+not through her, Heaven knew! And when Heriot saw
+Raimond here, he would never believe Andria was not
+in the whole scheme, let it be what it might.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t care what he thinks!” she reflected swiftly.
+“Nothing matters to me but Raimond. And I may be
+wronging him. Egerton may be trying to keep me out
+of his way.”</p>
+
+<p>She turned impulsively to Beryl.</p>
+
+<p>“Stay here,” she said impetuously, “wait for me. I
+don’t know what to do. I must go and think.”</p>
+
+<p>But it was not to think that she ran out into the gardens,
+brushing by Salome, who tried to stop her in the
+hall to say something—what, Andria neither knew nor
+cared. Only one thing was in her mind—to find out why
+Raimond Erle was here, if not for her. Why should
+she believe Egerton; who had lied to her before?</p>
+
+<p>The front door was in full view of the two men, who
+stood talking still just where she had first seen them.
+Andria ran to a disused side veranda and dropped down
+on a flower-bed. She wanted no one to see her, least
+of all Beryl from her window. She vanished into a
+tangle of overgrown bushes that Beryl called “the cat’s
+walk.” It cut the long road to the shore—that instinct<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span>
+told her the two men would take—at a right angle, and
+then ran parallel with it almost to the bay. There would
+be only a yard of impervious thicket between her and
+Raimond, if she got there in time to keep pace with him
+as he walked down the wide road.</p>
+
+<p>She did not care as she ran that it was nearly sunset,
+and that those teeth that had marked her neck might not
+be shaken off twice; she was not even breathless with her
+breakneck pace as she reached the angle of the path.
+She need only reach it, and whatever Raimond spoke of
+she would hear.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s low—contemptible!” she thought grimly, “but I
+don’t care. I must find out what I can, and——” the
+thought broke off unfinished. They were coming!</p>
+
+<p>White-faced over her black dress, the governess, “that
+excellent woman,” crouched behind the thicket of black
+cypress that was all that stood between her and the man
+who had been her husband.</p>
+
+<p>And, sharpened as her senses were, she never dreamed
+that two yards in front of her stood some one else,
+equally quiet, but from widely different motives.</p>
+
+<p>Raimond’s voice—how the woman’s heart burned in
+her at the rich note of it!—came on her ears.</p>
+
+<p>“You do hurry so unmercifully,” he was saying, “even
+down to that confounded ship of yours. Why wouldn’t
+you stay up there and sleep in a decent bed? Would
+you mind waiting one instant? My cigar’s gone out.”</p>
+
+<p>“Light it and be good enough to come on!” returned
+Egerton sharply. “It’s nearly sunset, and I have no
+desire to get fever. You can talk on the yacht.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, damn the yacht! That cook has the same menu
+every night. I wanted to see what your niggers would
+give us for dinner.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria heard a match struck, then another.</p>
+
+<p>“Take my box,” said Egerton irritably, “and if you
+must dawdle here, tell me what you mean to do. Isn’t
+the girl handsome enough for you, or—you’re not still
+thinking of that wretched woman in London!” said
+Egerton suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>“Her? Oh, Lord, no! To be candid with you, I’d<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span>
+had enough of that; I wasn’t sorry to be well out of it.
+She was a good-looking woman, though! But I was tired
+of that house in Pont Street.”</p>
+
+<p>“You told me the truth when you said you weren’t
+fool enough to marry her?”</p>
+
+<p>In the dead silence the woman they spoke of heard
+the man she loved puffing at a cigar that would not
+draw; more interested in that than in the question on
+which her life seemed to hang. The screen of trees was
+thick, but if either man had seen the face behind it he
+would not have known the white mask of agony. Would
+Raimond never answer? When he did, it was with a
+laugh, and the governess, poor fool! winced.</p>
+
+<p>“I was mad enough for anything—at first! When I
+took her away from Lady Parr’s,” he said coolly. “But
+I drew the line at that, more by good luck than good
+management. At first I thought the marriage legal
+enough, but then I found the man who did it was only
+a student—no more ordained than you or I, though he’s
+since become a priest. Oh, I’m perfectly eligible, my
+dear sir,” with another slight laugh. “But though I see
+excellent reasons for my marrying this particular girl,
+I’m not in much haste. She looks too much of a tiger-cat,
+for one thing! Now, the late Mrs. Erle had faults,
+but she was never more gentle than when she was in a
+furious rage.”</p>
+
+<p>“What became of her?” asked Egerton shortly.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t know, and don’t care. I don’t see why you
+should, either, when you were always at me to get rid
+of her. But that’s beside the question. What you don’t
+seem to see is that you can’t hurry this girl. She shies
+off if I look at her. You’re always too nippy. You
+shoved her off here to get rid of her, and then tore
+your hair because you’d done it. Let me remind you,
+it was I put you on her track in the first place; without
+me, you’d never have put a finger on her. You chose
+to treat me as a fool, and sneaked her off here. Then
+when you see that a certain Spanish grandee is dead and—oh,
+don’t interrupt me; there is not a soul about—has
+left all his money to a certain lady or her heirs, and that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span>
+those heirs are being advertised for, you fall on my neck
+and beseech me to save your credit and your acres. Well,
+it suits me well enough! I fancy the girl. But I’m
+going to do it in my own way. So far, I beg to tell you,
+you’ve made a mess of it, in yours.”</p>
+
+<p>“Raimond!” the man’s voice was furious. “Don’t play
+the fool, don’t dare. You don’t know all that hangs on
+it. It’s not the money only, nor even the succession,
+it’s——” his voice dropped so low that even Andria,
+whose very soul was listening, could not hear.</p>
+
+<p>“What!” cried Erle, startled for once. “But she dare
+not tell, there!”</p>
+
+<p>“No; we’ve got her in our hands in a way—but only
+in a way. She—Mother Felicitas, they call her now,”
+with that uncontrollable, jarring laugh of his, “has long
+claws! She will want the money, too, to go to the convent—and
+the Lord knows she’ll have to pay well for
+her seat in heaven!”</p>
+
+<p>“But why,” said Raimond, stupefied, “if you knew
+about her all along, didn’t you have her out of the convent
+long ago?”</p>
+
+<p>“With publicity—back debts to pay up—to take you
+or leave you as seemed good to the half-fledged brat!
+No! And I couldn’t have got her. If you will have it,
+I’d been taken in. That woman held her over my head
+till I found her—and I didn’t know about the money till
+I got back from here. Before that, if I’d claimed her,
+I’d have brought out old stories, ruined myself, ousted
+you or saddled you with a penniless wife.”</p>
+
+<p>“Whereas, now, I’m made or marred by what a pale
+little devil with cat’s eyes chooses to answer me,” replied
+Raimond coarsely. “Well, there’s no choice! I’ll marry
+her if she says yes to my somewhat mature charms. If
+she says no, I fail to see what’s to be done next!”</p>
+
+<p>“Then,” said Egerton angrily, “you’ve less sense than
+I imagined. Why do you suppose I hired a yacht with
+money I haven’t got, and brought her and you to this
+God-forsaken hole? If she says no, she can live and die
+here. She’ll never get back to England, and she doesn’t
+know who she is in any case. I should fancy it was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span>
+simple as A B C. We’ll lose the money, but we’ll save
+the rest.”</p>
+
+<p>Raimond Erle for a long minute said nothing. The
+wretched listener who shrank appalled behind the screen
+of cypress could not see that he was looking the other
+man up and down.</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” he remarked at last, “you must have been a
+daredevil when you were young! But I quite agree
+with you. There’s only one character in which your protégée
+can be taken to England, but you must give me a
+little time to play the game. Come on out of this,” with
+sudden distaste. “I don’t know why, but I feel as if
+there were devils behind every bush in your secluded
+retreat.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s one; oh, there’s one!” said Andria Heathcote,
+who knew now that she had never been Andria
+Erle, though she had hoped against hope even when she
+was turned out on the world with ten pounds. “I’ll ruin
+you—ruin you! If there’s a God in heaven, you shall
+never have Beryl to torture as you tortured me!”</p>
+
+<p>A thousand slights, a thousand dreadful positions he
+had put her in where she must hold up her head till
+women called her brazen—aye, and men, too!—came back
+to her. One kindly word, one pitying regret for the
+woman he had once been mad for, and she might have
+played into his hands for no other reason than that he
+had spoken of her softly for old sake’s sake. But now—she
+could hate him now!</p>
+
+<p>Blindly, not seeing or caring where she was going, she
+stumbled forward on the rough path, and round the very
+next bush nearly fell against—Heriot!</p>
+
+<p>Pale, quivering from head to foot, she stood quite
+still. For a moment she could not speak for the ungovernable
+fury of rage in her that he should have heard
+her shamed.</p>
+
+<p>“You listened!” she cried at last. “You heard.” In
+the last low rays of the sinking sun he stood before her
+bareheaded.</p>
+
+<p>“I slipped out for some air,” he said, very low. “I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span>
+stood here because I did not want them to see me till
+I knew what you had done. Yes, I heard.”</p>
+
+<p>If he had dared to pity her she would have stood like
+a stone, but now something in his voice reached the heart
+that felt frozen in her breast. She broke into such a
+dreadful sobbing as he had never heard.</p>
+
+<p>“I knew it before,” she cried; “though I wouldn’t believe
+it. Even when he turned me away, I wouldn’t
+believe it. I thought I was his wife. He shall never have
+Beryl—never, unless he kills me to get her!”</p>
+
+<p>“Come back to the house. It is too late to be out,”
+was all Heriot could find to say. He turned away that
+he might not see the shame and agony in her distorted
+face.</p>
+
+<p>“He whispered,” she cried, distracted. “I couldn’t
+hear. Why, besides the money, does his uncle want him
+to marry her?”</p>
+
+<p>“His uncle!” Heriot exclaimed. He was glad as he
+had not often been that he had heard all that had been
+said, or not for a hundred oaths from her would he have
+believed this woman knew nothing of the dirty work Erle
+had on hand. And he had wronged her enough by judging
+her. If it had not been for his self-righteousness she
+would have told him everything long ago. “That wasn’t
+his uncle. That was his father, Lord Erceldonne! He
+is not Egerton at all.”</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE CRY IN THE STARLIGHT.</p>
+
+
+<p>“Erceldonne!” the world swam with her.</p>
+
+<p>For how many years had that name been her terror,
+its owner her evil genius. Sometimes it had been clear
+even to her blinded eyes that his anger was used as a
+pretext for not acknowledging her, and again she had
+known when he had really put pressure on his son, and
+nothing but a dogged, cross-grained temper had kept
+Raimond from giving her up. And here she was taking
+his money, the paid servant of the man who had ruined
+her life; for if it had not been for the fear of disinheritance,
+Raimond would have married her openly in the days
+when love was young. And Erceldonne——</p>
+
+<p>To Heriot’s horror, she broke out into a harsh scream
+of laughter. What would Erceldonne say if he knew
+the very woman he had been at his wit’s end to get rid
+of had been brought by his own accord under his very
+roof? She turned to Heriot, wiping away the tears born
+of that horrible, mirthless laughter.</p>
+
+<p>“What a merry-andrew patchwork it is!” she cried.
+“‘Three blind mice, see how they run’—now you come
+in, and then Raimond and the others; we’re all in the
+dreadful round. And by and by the farmer’s wife will
+come and cut all our tails off! Why don’t you laugh?”
+she cried wildly.</p>
+
+<p>He might have answered with perfect truth, because
+there was nothing further from his mind than laughter.
+Here in the fast-growing gloom of the cypress thicket,
+where Andria’s face was already but a patch of white
+against the dark foliage, they were half a mile from the
+house; and he knew now what the dangers were in this
+place after nightfall. The very man who had brought
+two women here had not cared to stay and face them.</p>
+
+<p>“What a fool I was to lie low!” he thought angrily.
+“If I had appeared at first everything would have had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span>
+to be open and aboveboard. Now, I can’t come out after
+slinking away as I did. I wonder why I listened to
+that child?”</p>
+
+<p>But he knew quite well why he had listened. From
+the very first day her slow, soft voice, her strange eyes,
+had bewitched him. It was for more than Andria’s sake
+that he was aghast at the cold wickedness of the man
+who was pleased to call himself Egerton.</p>
+
+<p>“Come home, come back to the house!” he said
+sharply. “We’ve only got to-night before us to settle
+what we must do;” but in his mind there was, of course,
+only one thing to be done. He must reckon with Erceldonne
+in the morning.</p>
+
+<p>He dared not even talk as he hurried his companion
+up the path. His foot was stiff still, though his strength
+had come back to him; but no man’s strength and his
+bare hands were going to avail anything against a madman
+and two jaguars; and the woman at his side would
+welcome death as a friend.</p>
+
+<p>If he had been alone he would have returned to the
+house with his hands in his pockets—he could only die
+once, and life was not so sweet to a broken man that he
+should worry about it. But with this silent, listless
+woman on his hands, Heriot’s heart was in his mouth at
+every strange shadow in the ever-deepening dark. When
+they were free of the woods he felt easier. The good
+stars shone down on them as they reached the open garden
+and drew near the house, and a quick compassion
+ran through him for Andria Erle, whose only refuge was
+under the roof of her enemy.</p>
+
+<p>“Look! What’s that?” he said quietly. “Let me go
+first.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s no need,” returned Andria lifelessly. “If
+you mean that black thing in the shadow by the steps,
+it’s Salome. She’s waiting for me; she saw me go out.”</p>
+
+<p>The woman came to them swiftly, her finger on her
+lips.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t speak,” she said softly; “Chloe’s in de dining-room.
+Oh, my Lawd! I didn’t know where you was
+both got to.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Send her away,” whispered Andria, with sudden passion.
+“Tell her you’ll wait on me, anything!” She would
+go mad if she had to sit through dinner alone, if Heriot
+must hide when there was so little time to make a plan.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll tell her and ’Melia Jane dey must iron dem two
+white dresses for Miss Ber’l to-night. Dey won’t be no
+more’n time, and when dey gits out in de wash-house,”
+she said shrewdly, “dey’ll be skeered to come in again.
+Dey’ll sneak up-stairs to deir beds.”</p>
+
+<p>“Anything, only be quick!” Heriot should stay where
+he was till he heard all she had to say; all the dreadful
+tale Egerton had let out about Beryl, without knowing
+that she was putting two and two together. “Lock them
+out, Salome,” she added feverishly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes’m! You come into de house, de two of you.
+Just you sit in de drawing-room an’ don’t speak till I
+tell you dey’s gone.”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot had almost to push Andria in. It seemed as
+if she courted death out under the stars.</p>
+
+<p>When he had bolted the heavy door noiselessly, he
+followed her into the dark drawing-room. What was
+Salome doing that she was so long? He heard her voice
+in the back of the house; not raised in authority, but wild
+with astonishment and fright. Before he could draw
+breath, the fat black woman had thrown open the dining-room
+door, her shapeless figure grotesque against the
+lighted dinner-table as she stared into the gloom where
+the two sat.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, missus,” she said, “missus! And dem niggers
+never told me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Told you what?” cried Andria. Heriot, with that
+open door in front of him dared not speak.</p>
+
+<p>“Little miss is gone out. Dat man, de tall one, wid
+de marks o’ de devil’s claws round his eyes, he come back
+for her. He said you was waiting for her down at de
+shore, you was both going to dinner on de yacht. An’
+she’s went wid him, after last night. Dey’ll be et.”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot let out an astonished oath. If it had not been
+for that stupid lie about the governess and his private
+knowledge, it might have seemed natural enough that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span>
+Beryl should dine on the yacht. But Andria’s wits were
+quicker, and she knew Raimond Erle.</p>
+
+<p>He had been bored with his father’s society, and must
+have come straight back by the short cut. The girl was
+handsome. Even without getting her on board the
+<i>Flores</i>, a starlight walk with her would pass the time.
+That lie about the governess had been told when she
+refused to go with him; it was the first thing he would
+think of. She knew how obstinate he was about anything
+he might take in his head. He knew nothing about
+the dangers of the island; if he did, recklessness and a
+revolver would make him laugh at them. A beautiful
+girl, whom he must make love to for reasons he had
+seen fit to exclaim at; a night warm and silent, heavy
+with flower scents, the soft stars ablaze in the sky!—his
+discarded wife clenched her teeth. Not anything on earth
+would have balked Raimond of his evening walk.</p>
+
+<p>“But I will!” she cried to herself, wild and bitter in
+her rebellion. “I, that he shamed and turned out,” she
+fumbled blindly on a table in the dark.</p>
+
+<p>“I must go,” she said, with something cold and dreadful
+in her voice that Salome took for fear, like her own.
+“If he said I was at the shore, I’ll be there. There will
+be time by the short cut.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, don’t you do it! You won’t do no good,” cried
+the black woman. “Mr. Egerton he’ll take care of little
+miss—if ever she gets to de boat!”</p>
+
+<p>“He’ll take such care of her that she’ll never come
+back,” Andria muttered.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was not fear for the girl that was in her heart,
+but the jealousy that is more cruel than the grave. No
+one knew as she did what Raimond could be when he
+chose. She did not believe for one instant that any girl
+could resist him. She was past Heriot like a flash, regardless
+of anything but those two walking down to the
+shore in the scented night, under the gorgeous stars—a
+man and a maid.</p>
+
+<p>“Hold on!” Heriot was at her side. “Did you think
+I wasn’t coming? Though I don’t see what good either<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span>
+of us can do if she’s gone on board the yacht. What’s
+that?”</p>
+
+<p>His hand, swinging against hers as they walked, had
+touched something cold and sharp. Before she knew
+what she was doing it was in his grasp, not hers. In the
+starlight he saw what it was.</p>
+
+<p>“This will do to fight the jaguars with,” he said coolly,
+pocketing the lean, ugly dagger just as if he had not
+seen her face in the square patch of light from the dining-room
+door as she ran past him. “I’ll attend to that, if
+you’ll catch your charge. Hold on, that’s not the way!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s the way I’m going,” she replied savagely.</p>
+
+<p>She began to run as once before she had run down
+that path; every turn of it seemed familiar to her, even
+in the veiled light. She took no more thought for Heriot
+than if he had been a dog; he had the dagger; let him
+take care of himself.</p>
+
+<p>Round the great boulders, through the thickets of
+flowers, she fled as one possessed; hatred at her heart,
+jealousy tearing her. Heriot, stumbling over the tough,
+trailing vines, missing the dim track a hundred times,
+was soon far behind. The more he hurried, the less he
+got on. He had taken the dagger from her because he
+had seen red murder in her eyes, yet now he almost
+wished she had it. He knew from instinct that there
+was more abroad in the woods than Raimond Erle and
+the girl he had decoyed away. Yet not a sound reached
+him as he doggedly followed the governess. He gave a
+sudden, contemptuous laugh at himself for being mixed
+up in such a wild-goose chase—and at Erle, who had
+had to cajole a girl to go with him by a lie! The next
+instant he laughed no longer.</p>
+
+<p>He was out of the wooded path on the open shore.
+Before him was the dark figure of Andria Erle, standing
+motionless; as he came up to her she pointed dumbly.</p>
+
+<p>The moon had risen, and perfectly distinct on the
+calm waves of the bay was a boat with a solitary figure
+in it, a man rowing with a quick, ill-tempered stroke.</p>
+
+<p>“She left him. She hasn’t gone with him!” Heriot
+exclaimed. “But where is she?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” answered Andria, with chattering
+teeth. What would have seemed nothing in another place
+was eery here, after the strange story of that other girl
+who sang to animals. And yet her heart was lighter as
+she turned away. It was something, at least, that Beryl
+had not gone to the yacht.</p>
+
+<p>But now that her passion of rage and fear was dead,
+she dared not go back to the house by that path she had
+been warned not to use in broad daylight. It was by
+the long way that she hurried Heriot to the house; yet
+it was he, not she, who was nervous about the girl who
+had gone back alone. If Egerton’s tale were true, neither
+the madman nor his dreadful familiars would hurt Beryl;
+but still Andria winced when they reached the house and
+found she had not come in.</p>
+
+<p>“What shall we do?” She sat down on the door-steps
+sick at heart.</p>
+
+<p>“Go and look for her. At least, I will. You stay
+here,” but he had not gone twenty yards when he recoiled.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you call?” he cried sharply.</p>
+
+<p>“No one did,” but through her words there came the
+echo of a faint cry, low and wailing like a lost soul.</p>
+
+<p>Heriot, running as if he had been shot out of a gun,
+made for the moonlit woods.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE MADMAN.</p>
+
+
+<p>He might well have run at that cry, for nothing but
+sheer terror had forced it from Beryl Corselas.</p>
+
+<p>Half from real dislike of the man, half from wanton
+mischief, she had dexterously slipped away from Erle
+and vanished like a spirit into an opening in the thick
+bush. Full of laughter, she had run and doubled like a
+hare, while he crashed after her through the scrub, till,
+angry and crestfallen, he had flung himself into his boat
+and departed.</p>
+
+<p>Breathless, Beryl sat down on a convenient stone and
+chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>“How cross he was! And that was a horrid lie about
+Andria expecting me. But he has lovely eyes, and he is—yes,
+he is amusing! But I don’t think I like him. I
+don’t like men at all,” she said, with sudden gravity. “I
+hate Mr. Egerton, for I don’t believe a word he says, and
+Mr. Heriot treats me like a child. Mr. Erle doesn’t do
+that.” She got up crossly and began to saunter homeward.
+She was almost sorry she had not gone with Erle
+in spite of that lie. It was dull at home, where Heriot
+seemed only to care to talk to Andria.</p>
+
+<p>“I never would have stirred a foot with Mr. Erle if
+Andria and Mr. Heriot had not gone off and left me
+like that,” she thought, with an unreasonable lump in her
+throat, her short-lived joy at having outwitted Erle all
+gone.</p>
+
+<p>It was pitch-dark in the woods as she began to walk
+back to the house. She had run and doubled so that
+she was not too sure where she was, and an uneasy feeling
+came over her that she was not on the right path.
+There was a queer rustling, too, in the bushes, and she
+listened, her heart going like a frightened bird’s.</p>
+
+<p>“It must be my cats,” she thought determinedly, and
+with a voice that was not too steady she began her queer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span>
+calling croon. But not a stealthy footstep sounded anywhere;
+no yellow-green eyes looked from the bushes; no
+cubs bounded from the black underbrush. Instead there
+fell in the wood a sudden, deathlike silence, far more
+threatening to the girl than the sight of those beasts who
+were tame for all their fierce looks.</p>
+
+<p>“The man!” Her heart gave a rending bound. “That
+crazy, jabbering man. And he’s hunting me!”</p>
+
+<p>Wild with terror she looked round her, and had no idea
+which way to run. She was lost, alone in the trackless
+scrub; it was so dark she could not even see where she
+walked. And only one thing could keep the cats away if
+there were in sound of her call—their master’s voice that
+was stronger than hers, meaningless jabber though it
+was.</p>
+
+<p>In desperation she pushed straight before her, tearing
+through the thick bushes; stumbling, great drops of
+perspiration on her face from the airless heat. As she
+crashed forward, making noise enough to wake the dead,
+her ears caught above all the sounds of crackling branches
+and tearing vines that slight, slight rustling, as of feet
+that were keeping pace with her, very close beside her.</p>
+
+<p>She turned sharply and burst through a screen of
+bushes, to find herself standing by the clear pool she had
+seen one morning. The moon shone down as bright as
+day, after the dreadful darkness of the woods the clear
+sheet of water looked like home; and then she screamed,
+a long, wailing shriek that had turned Heriot cold.</p>
+
+<p>At her side, almost touching her, was the apelike thing
+that had bitten Andria to the bone. The next instant its
+long claws of fingers were on hers. In utter despair she
+shut her eyes and waited for the horror that was coming.
+Would the thing tear her limb from limb?</p>
+
+<p>But except for that hand on hers it was not touching
+her, and as she stood, sick and stony with fear, a hoarse
+voice spoke to her.</p>
+
+<p>“Dearest of my soul,” it said in Spanish; “dearest of
+my soul.”</p>
+
+<p>With a cry of astonishment she opened her eyes. The
+man was not dumb, then, nor utterly dangerous! For he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span>
+was down on his knees by her, kissing the hem of her
+garment. The soft language she had learned by stealth
+in the convent came back to her like a flash.</p>
+
+<p>“Who are you?” she cried. “What do you want?
+Why do you frighten us so?”</p>
+
+<p>“You have come home; come back to me!” The voice
+was the voice of an old man, the kneeling figure pitifully
+thin and ragged. “I am the old man who loves you—don’t
+you remember me? It was I gave you that ring!”
+He touched the green beryl on her finger pleadingly.</p>
+
+<p>She stared at him; yet she dared not say she had found
+the ring.</p>
+
+<p>“You frightened me, you hurt my governess last
+night,” she cried angrily. “Go away and let me alone!”</p>
+
+<p>“I did not know you liked her. I thought she was his
+servant,” the old man whimpered. He began to beg her
+pardon a hundred times.</p>
+
+<p>“I to frighten you, I that love you!” he cried. “I will
+never touch a hair of any one that belongs to you. I’ll
+never leave you again.”</p>
+
+<p>“You must go away—and never come back,” cried
+Beryl, stamping her foot, seeing no meaning in the words
+Andria would have understood too well.</p>
+
+<p>The thing crouched at her feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Little dearest, I will go,” said the broken old voice,
+and tears of pity came to Beryl’s eyes. “But if he
+comes,” it was fierce again, “call me and I will send him
+away. He shall never steal you again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl! Where are you?” The sudden shout was
+stern and yet anxious. “Answer me.”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot’s voice. What should she do? She looked at
+the crazy face beside her, in an instant all the humanity
+had been wiped off it as the man scrambled to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>“I will call my cats,” he whispered, with the leering
+grin that had terrified Andria. “They will claw him.”</p>
+
+<p>“No!” she said hastily. She stooped and put her hand
+on those bent, repulsive shoulders. “No. Listen—this
+man who’s coming is my friend, look at him well. When
+I call you, you and your cats can claw—but never him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span>
+nor my governess. If you hurt them I’ll never let you
+see me again.”</p>
+
+<p>He winced pitifully.</p>
+
+<p>“My soul is yours,” he said. “I will not come near
+the house nor let the cats come—till you call us with the
+song I taught you. I will keep away from the house.
+But, <i>querida mia</i>, do not go with him again! This time
+I will be quicker, and save you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go!” said the girl in a frantic whisper, hearing Heriot
+breaking through the bushes. “Go, till I do call you.”</p>
+
+<p>Almost as she spoke Heriot sprang out into the open
+space. Was he dreaming, or did he see beside the girl in
+her white gown a crouching thing like an ape?</p>
+
+<p>He ran to her, round the pool. There should be an end
+of this thing that hunted women! Mad or sane, the man
+deserved no more mercy than a venomous beast. But as
+he reached the girl he stopped short. She was absolutely
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>“Run to the house!” he cried. “That brute’s behind
+you, and I’m going to finish him once for all. Did he
+hurt you?” he cried savagely.</p>
+
+<p>She lifted her face, and he saw she was crying.</p>
+
+<p>“No, no,” she said as gently as Andria might. “Nothing
+hurt me. And—there’s no one here!”</p>
+
+<p>“But I saw him,” replied Heriot grimly. “And I heard
+you scream.”</p>
+
+<p>She laid a quick hand on his arm as he would have
+passed her.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s no one here; if there was, he’s gone,” she
+said. “I did not mean to scream. Did I frighten Andria?”</p>
+
+<p>“What was it?” he insisted almost roughly, for he was
+certain he had seen that crouching, wizened figure at her
+side, though there was no sign of it now, nor even a leaf
+stirring in the warm moonlight.</p>
+
+<p>Instead of answering she looked him in the face with
+the moonlight full on her strange, tawny eyes till they
+looked like wells of light, deep and golden. Something in
+them seemed to strike him like a blow. Yesterday they
+had been a child’s eyes, careless, almost shallow. To-night—Heriot’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span>
+heart began to pound. The girl had
+come into her birthright of womanhood, of a marvelous
+witchery that would be a snare to the feet of men.</p>
+
+<p>“What made you scream, Beryl?” and this time he did
+not speak as to a child. “Tell me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I lost myself. It was dark. I meant to call, and I
+suppose I screamed.” She could not tell the truth, for
+the old shame that was on her that beasts and strange
+creatures loved and obeyed her.</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you leave Erle?” though Heaven knew it
+was no business of his! “You were in his charge. What
+did he mean by letting you come back by yourself?”</p>
+
+<p>“He couldn’t help it,” she said, with a laugh in her
+eyes. “I led him a dance, you know. He went away disgusted,
+for he couldn’t find me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you like him?” asked Heriot. There was a curious
+look in the handsome face that had seldom darkened for
+any woman’s words.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” said Beryl, with provocation. “When
+I find out shall I tell you?”</p>
+
+<p>There was the faintest stir in the thicket, and suddenly
+Heriot knew that whatever the evening’s adventures had
+been she did not mean him to know them.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I!” he said lightly; “just as you like.” He led
+the way up the path in silence till they reached the open
+ground and could see the house.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll watch you safely in,” and he took off his cap;
+“you’ll be all right from here. Good night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Aren’t you coming to dinner? They won’t be back.”</p>
+
+<p>“No!” he returned, for to be hidden in Erceldonne’s
+house and eat his bread any longer was impossible.</p>
+
+<p>“You had better. You won’t see us much longer,” she
+said coolly. “Do you know Mr. Egerton’s going to take
+us away?”</p>
+
+<p>“If——” he stopped himself. It was no business of his.
+If she chose to marry Erle, regardless of his past and
+Andria’s, that was her affair. Till Andria told her, he
+had no right to.</p>
+
+<p>“If what?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing,” he said awkwardly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span></p>
+
+<p>“You are treating me like a child again, just as I had
+begun to like you!” she cried pettishly, and the very
+childlike ring of her voice appealed to him. Yet he stood
+utterly silent.</p>
+
+<p>If he, a broken man, a penniless adventurer, should
+make love to a girl who eavesdropping had told him was
+an heiress, the thing would not be called by a pretty
+name. He did not care two straws for the mystery about
+her if only she were the waif she seemed.</p>
+
+<p>“Yet after all,” he thought swiftly, “even a broken-down
+devil like me would make her a better husband
+than Erle—supposing he’s free, which I don’t believe!
+Because she may have money and I have none am I going
+to hand her over to the first roué who wants her? By
+George! I’m going to do no such thing.” But even he
+dared not tell her what he knew about Raimond Erle.</p>
+
+<p>In the moonlight she stepped to his side like a lovely
+ghost, and as she brushed him in passing, a quick rapture
+ran through him. There was no sense in reasoning, he
+loved her—for life and death and the world to come. At
+a word from her he would sweep Erle and his father from
+her path like straws. He would not tell her the trap she
+was in, she must choose for herself freely and without
+bias. But he would not let her go. If she should learn
+to love Erle—and Heaven knew why, but many women
+did—what would she feel when Andria made the scene
+she was sure to do?</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t you speak?” she broke out petulantly. “I
+know what you’re thinking—that if Mr. Egerton is going
+to take us away you’re going to start off through the bush
+to-night and try for the town there is across the island!
+You’re going to wash your hands of Andria and me.”</p>
+
+<p>“What else can I do, if you’re going back with him?”
+and his voice was utterly grim.</p>
+
+<p>“You can go with us.”</p>
+
+<p>“In the first place I wouldn’t go, and in the second
+they wouldn’t take me. No; if you’re going in the yacht
+I should be off to-night, if it weren’t for leaving you and
+Mrs.—Miss Holbeach to that crazy brute I let in last
+night.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p>
+
+<p>The girl recoiled as if he had struck her. Heriot
+cursed himself for having haggled at Andria’s name. But
+it was not that.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh,” cried Beryl, with a sob of shame, “he won’t
+come! He’ll never come any more, nor his cats, either.
+Don’t speak to me, don’t ask me why, Andria knows,” she
+was crying bitterly, “that all queer animals and things
+come to me. And I met him to-night, and I did scream,
+though I told you a lie! He was so old—and so pitiful—I
+couldn’t let you hurt him. But he was there all the
+time I said he was gone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Darling!” said Heriot softly. “Little brave darling,
+don’t cry.” He put his arm round the bowed shoulders
+as gently as a woman, and with as self-forgetful a tenderness.
+He knew no other girl would have pitied a man
+who filled her with terror, who had bitten like a beast before
+her eyes only last night.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t cry!” he repeated. “And why do you mind that
+animals trust you and miserable things come to you? I
+loved you for it the very first day I saw you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mother Felicitas said I wasn’t human! I was half a
+beast,” she sobbed. “And it makes me afraid of—who I
+am.”</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl, look at me,” said the man softly.</p>
+
+<p>She stopped crying; just in time, if she had known it,
+to keep her sobs from jealous ears close by.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know,” Heriot said, “why things like that
+trust you? Because you love them and have no fear of
+them. I would give half my life to have dumb animals
+come to me as they do to you. Don’t you know that no
+wild thing will come to any one who isn’t so good that
+they know it?”</p>
+
+<p>“No!” she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>He nodded gravely.</p>
+
+<p>“There is something else just as true,” he said very
+low. “I love you, too,” he stooped his handsome head
+and kissed her hands.</p>
+
+<p>At the light touch of his lips she shivered.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. For his life he could
+not speak above his breath.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span></p>
+
+<p>“You can’t!” she cried. “No one does but Andria.”</p>
+
+<p>“Look at me,” he repeated more gently than ever, and
+as she raised her eyes the sweetness and truth in his overmastered
+her. “Tell me, can’t you love me—only a
+little?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know;” but she had loved him madly, jealously,
+since the very day he came. “I don’t know.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think you do.” He had seen her eyes. “Beryl!”</p>
+
+<p>She clung to him suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>“They would murder you! Salome said so. Oh! take
+me away from this place—from Mr. Egerton.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll try!” said Heriot soberly. And suddenly the task
+before him flashed out in its true colors. He realized that
+unless he could be outwitted Erceldonne would kill the
+girl before he let her get away.</p>
+
+<p>“You can do it if you want to!” Somehow she was
+disappointed, taken aback. The slow words that were so
+much better than a rash promise had chilled her almost
+to distrust. Before he could answer she had broken away
+from him and was scudding across the grass to the house.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE LAUGH IN THE DARK.</p>
+
+
+<p>A weakness like the lethargy that comes before death
+had bound Andria hand and foot. Where she had sunk
+down on the door-step she stayed, caring nothing for the
+dark shadows of the garden, or the beasts, and worse,
+that might be hidden in them.</p>
+
+<p>Raimond had left Beryl and gone to the yacht—that
+was the only thing really in her thoughts. But he would
+not be so balked a second time. It would be better if
+death came and took her where she sat, found Beryl in
+the lonely woods, for it would cut the coil around them
+both, the coil the girl understood not at all—the woman
+too well. She bowed her head on the cold stone door-steps,
+too hopeless to care how the matter ended.</p>
+
+<p>The moon rose and poured a flood of light on the
+lovely, desolate figure, almost lying on the steps with hidden
+face. Her misery, her shame that another had heard,
+had numbed the woman’s wits. Raimond was done with
+her, would care no more for her claim on him than for
+his last year’s neckties. If Beryl fell in love with him she
+might not care either. Andria could not think past that,
+except to be sure that she would never leave the island,
+even if she chose to go in the yacht with Raimond and
+the girl who was to stand lawfully in her own unlawful
+shoes.</p>
+
+<p>A sudden touch roused her. Salome, like a black
+statue, was sitting beside her.</p>
+
+<p>“I been down in de woods,” she whispered. “I seen
+him kiss her. She’s coming now. Oh, missus, dey’ll be
+murder!”</p>
+
+<p>“Seen who?” fierce, suddenly alive in every nerve, she
+sprang up. Had she been mistaken, and it was not Raimond
+she had seen rowing away! “For God’s sake, Salome,
+who?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Heriot,” but she sprang up, too, at the dreadful
+laugh that came from Andria. “Don’t do like dat for de<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span>
+land’s sake!” she exclaimed. “Dey ain’t never no good
+come from dat kind o’ laughin’. And I tell you he must
+go out o’ dis to-night. Mr. Egerton he tell me Miss Ber’l
+gwine to marry dat nephew he brung. What’ll he say
+when he finds out?—for she’ll never marry him now, dat
+I tell you!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Salome!” the white woman seized the black one’s
+hand, more relieved than if she had brought her the riches
+of the world. “What a fool I’ve been. I never thought
+of that. Hush! Here’s Miss Beryl now. But—she’s
+alone!”</p>
+
+<p>Yet as she looked at the girl’s face in the warm moonlight
+she knew Salome was right. The indifferent child
+of yesterday was gone. This was a woman, and surely,
+surely, she would fight as women do, tooth and claw, for
+the man she loved.</p>
+
+<p>“Where’s Mr. Heriot?” she asked softly.</p>
+
+<p>“Coming.” She hesitated. “Andria——”</p>
+
+<p>“I know,” a wave of pity came over her for the girl
+whose wooing would be so stormy, and then a cold terror.
+Salome knew Egerton—she knew Raimond—neither
+would hesitate in this lonely island at anything that would
+put out of the way the man and woman who threatened
+their schemes. She looked up and saw Heriot approaching
+as carelessly as if the terrors of the place did not
+exist, and the foolhardy thing they were all doing came
+over her.</p>
+
+<p>“Come in; it isn’t safe to sit here,” she cried, and as
+Beryl broke from her at the coming steps she turned to
+Salome. “Take her in and put her to bed. Make her
+eat something,” she whispered. “I’ll talk to him.”</p>
+
+<p>Salome nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Make him go,” she breathed. “Get him out o’ dis.
+Dey’ll murder him if dey finds out. It ain’t no use his
+wantin’ to marry her nor trying to fight for her. Dey’ll
+just walk plunk over him, and all she’ll ever know is dat
+he ain’t come back some morning.”</p>
+
+<p>She shambled off after the girl, but there was tragedy
+in her working face.</p>
+
+<p>From old, old times she had known that there was no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span>
+way but giving in with Egerton. If the girl were meant
+for his nephew he would have her in spite of ten Heriots
+and without an open refusal.</p>
+
+<p>“Come in,” repeated Andria, as Heriot stood irresolute
+in the doorway. “I think we must all be mad to stay out
+of doors after last night.”</p>
+
+<p>She spoke with an irrepressible shiver; he looked so
+handsome and debonair, and the odds against him were
+so great.</p>
+
+<p>“I’d rather not go into Erceldonne’s house,” he hesitated,
+“but there’s so much to say. And you can’t stay
+out here.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think you can either,” he said dryly.</p>
+
+<p>Then Beryl had said nothing! But there had been no
+time. And after all, why should he trust their safety to
+a madman’s word?</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps so,” he returned irrelevantly, entering and
+fastening the door. “Look here. I—I wonder if you’ll
+think I’ve behaved like a blackguard? I don’t know. I
+mean to marry that girl, and I haven’t one farthing to
+rub against another, while she—you heard what Erceldonne
+said about her?”</p>
+
+<p>“You told her so?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not about the money, nor anything but myself. I—oh,
+it’s been a mad evening! Do you know she saw that
+crazy old man and spoke to him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Then she did scream!” said Andria sharply.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes: but when I got there she had tamed him as she
+tamed the jaguars. He could have killed her, but instead
+she says he promised not to hurt us any more.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria turned swiftly away from the lamp that he
+might not see her face as Egerton’s story about the madman
+came back to her. The remembrance of all it must
+mean chilled her to the bone.</p>
+
+<p>“Begin at the beginning,” she temporized. “How did
+she get away from——” she could not say the name. She
+sat silent as he obeyed. If Egerton’s story were true,
+that jabbering lunatic’s daughter must have been Beryl’s
+mother! And yet, how could she tell it to Heriot?</p>
+
+<p>A queer, dull passion rose in her and seemed to choke<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span>
+down the words she would have tried, perhaps, to say.
+Heriot was all that really stood between Raimond and
+Beryl—let him find out her history for himself.</p>
+
+<p>“Besides, I don’t believe it!” she thought, and knew she
+lied. She scarcely dared look up lest he might ask if she
+knew who the crazy creature was that haunted the place.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Heriot,” she said quickly, “you’re in earnest about
+Beryl?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” he answered very quietly, but she saw his mouth
+tighten. “What right Erceldonne has to her I don’t
+know, but it isn’t any better than mine. As for her being
+rich,” with a quick, sweet laugh, “when I get her away
+from here I’ll never inquire about her fortune.”</p>
+
+<p>“Or her people?” She could not keep in the dangerous
+question.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t care who she is as long as she’s my wife.”
+But she could not salve her conscience with the answer;
+she knew he would care. “Once we’re out of this, and
+I’ve settled with her delightful friends down there”—with
+a motion of his head toward the harbor.</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t settle with him!” said Andria quickly. “Do
+you mean you are going to meet them in the morning?”</p>
+
+<p>“I fail to see any other way,” he replied, laughing.
+“Why?”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you know what facing them would mean?” There
+was an indescribable flatness in her voice. “None of us
+would ever get away from the island, except perhaps
+Beryl, and what would become of her I know better than
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“He wouldn’t marry her against her will,” he said
+shortly. “And as for carrying her off, he couldn’t keep
+her. There is a law in England.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s no law for the dead—I mean you and I could
+never rescue her, for we—they would never let us leave
+this island alive! You, because you love the girl; I because——”
+but she could not go on, and he knew well
+enough that a deserted and discarded woman would get
+short rope from Raimond Erle.</p>
+
+<p>She was right, of course; an open struggle would be
+madness. Erle and Erceldonne he might manage, but the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span>
+yacht’s crew could easily overpower a man who had no
+revolver. And yet he ached to try the fight.</p>
+
+<p>Andria looked at him, with hot, smarting eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Twenty to one,” she said slowly. “Three of them you
+might account for, with my dagger, and then you would
+tell no tales! And Beryl, married to Raimond, would kill
+herself.”</p>
+
+<p>“What else can I do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Go away,” she said very gently. “No, don’t look like
+that!” for he was staring at her as if she had lost her
+senses. “You think I would play into Raimond’s hands
+if you did? You don’t know women! If he had loved
+me still I might have been his willing tool, I’m bad
+enough for that. But now”—her voice sank to an ugly
+whisper—“I’m all hatred for him; when I think of him I
+burn like fire. I only live to thwart him, to pay some of
+an old score. Oh! talk of something else!” she cried, with
+a sudden wild outbreak. “It is nothing to you that I
+wake at night and long to kill him with my hands.”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot turned his eyes away from her ashy face. Once
+he would have laughed at believing in that Andria Erle
+whose name had been a byword, but he trusted her now.
+If he had trusted her before this night all might have been
+safely away by this time. But as it was he knew her
+broken heart and her broken pride would fight a better
+battle for the girl he loved than all his strength could do.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you want me to do?” he asked. “You have
+a plan?”</p>
+
+<p>Andria nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“I want you to go and find a village and get a boat.
+You are the only one who can do it. But you must go
+alone, for if you took Beryl and me, even if we reached a
+town Egerton’s steamer would be there before us and cut
+us off. He knows every inch of the island. He’d guess
+where we were going—that is, if there’s a town to get at,
+as Salome says.”</p>
+
+<p>“There must be,” he answered quickly. “This is either
+Flores or Corvo, I don’t know which. But on the eastern
+side of each there’s a town.”</p>
+
+<p>“Across the mountain?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Santa Cruz in Flores, Rosario in Corvo; either
+would do. But I think this is Flores. We left Fayal for
+Grasiosa and were blown off our course by a southeast
+wind. The boat must have gone to pieces on the southeast
+point of Flores—there was too much east in the wind
+for Corvo.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then we’ll suppose we’re on the southwest side of
+Flores. How far would it be to Santa Cruz?”</p>
+
+<p>“Ten miles, as the crow flies. Twenty or more, allowing
+for the mountain and no track. I could be there to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p>“And get a boat and sail back. You could slip into
+some little bay and come for us at dawn the day after, if
+you’d had a fair wind. I’ll bring food, and we could hide
+in some tiny inlet the yacht would never notice if they
+sailed round the island till doomsday. Then when they
+get tired and go, we can sail to Fayal. How far is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“A hundred and fifty miles or so. You wouldn’t be
+afraid in an open boat?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d take her away from him if we had to go on a
+raft,” she said hardly. “Come and eat now, and then
+you’d better go. Have you a compass?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want one. I can go by my watch and the sun.
+You don’t think they’ll try to take you both while I’m
+gone?”</p>
+
+<p>“They won’t try to take me, and I don’t think they’ll
+dare to hurry her so. Raimond will take his time, even in
+making love. And he won’t find her very kind, if she’s
+promised to marry you.”</p>
+
+<p>“She hasn’t, in so many words.”</p>
+
+<p>“It doesn’t matter,” Andria answered wearily. “She
+means it. Come and eat; you must be on your way before
+daylight. You’re not afraid of the man and his beasts?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid to leave you alone here for two days,” he
+said shortly. “I tell you plainly I don’t like it.”</p>
+
+<p>She had opened the door into the dining-room where
+her neglected dinner stood cold on the table. Under the
+bright light of the hanging lamp she turned on him with
+a wild passion that there was no gainsaying.</p>
+
+<p>“Listen to me!” she cried—and if her face was ghastly,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span>
+over her black gown her red-brown hair shone like fire
+and her eyes swayed him, for all their weariness and red
+rims—“listen to me. The girl is yours, but the man is
+mine! It is my quarrel, and I will settle my debts for
+myself. If you stay you may kill him before you’re killed
+yourself, if it comes to main force; but do you think it is
+death I want for the man who’s killed all the good in me?
+I want more than that. I want him to live, with all his
+schemes ruined; to suffer as he has made me suffer; to
+starve as he turned me out to starve. If he gets the girl
+he will have to kill me first—I, that was bone of his bone!
+But it won’t come to that. I’ll put him off. I’ll make
+Beryl make time; I’ll tell her my secret that has ruined
+me, body and soul. But there won’t be any need before
+you’re back,” and with a sudden listlessness she sat down
+at the table. “Eat his meat and drink his wine; it will be
+as good a weapon against him as a revolver,” she said,
+with an evil look in her half-closed eyes. But he knew it
+was not she, but what a man had made her, that had
+taught her that look.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve no money,” he began shamefacedly.</p>
+
+<p>“I have. Salome’s wages,” and she drew a roll of gold
+out of her pocket. “Salome’s wages for Erceldonne’s
+work!” but her laugh made Heriot wince.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll go now!” he said, pushing back his plate. “Tell
+her!”</p>
+
+<p>Andria could only nod.</p>
+
+<p>She was helping Beryl to freedom and happiness, and
+to what was she helping herself? Only to the just payment
+for her broken life. Even Mother Benedicta could
+not blame her.</p>
+
+<p>“So,” she said, very low; “the dawn is coming. But
+be quick. I can’t promise to protect her for more than
+three days.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll be back in one—at dawn to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria sprang to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Hush!” she whispered. “Did you hear anything?”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re done up, tired out,” he returned gently.
+“There’s nothing—not a sound!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span></p>
+
+<p>For sole answer she put out the light. He felt her
+hand on his wrist as she led him in the dark across the
+room and out on a disused veranda.</p>
+
+<p>“Go this way, and be quick, quick!” she cried in the
+same toneless whisper. “It’s the only chance to save her
+now.”</p>
+
+<p>She watched him as he ran across a narrow belt of
+moonlight and disappeared in the blackness of the scrub.
+Then, noiseless in her stocking feet, she searched every
+inch of the wide veranda round the house.</p>
+
+<p>There was no one there, no one in the garden. Her
+wrought-up nerves must have deceived her, and it had
+been fancy that she heard out of the darkness of the
+veranda behind the dining-room Egerton’s uncontrollable,
+cackling laugh.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">A SEALED PACKET.</p>
+
+
+<p>Reassure herself as she might, Andria fairly fled
+through the empty passages to Beryl’s room.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m worn out,” she thought; “I’m beginning to imagine
+things. It couldn’t have been Egerton’s laugh I heard,
+for he wouldn’t dare come here at night—and he couldn’t
+have known he’d any reason to watch us.” But argue as
+she liked, some sound had shaken her nerves till she dared
+not strike a light lest some watcher outside might see.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl,” she said, standing by the girl’s bed in the dark,
+“Beryl!”</p>
+
+<p>“Hush!” said a voice, “I’m here,” and Andria made out
+a white figure by the window, and groped to the girl’s
+side. “Something woke me, I thought. Andria, I
+thought I heard a shot! Where’s Mr. Heriot?”</p>
+
+<p>“A shot!” Andria turned cold, till she remembered she
+had watched him safely out of sight and not a sound had
+broken the stillness. “You couldn’t have,” she said,
+bringing all her common sense to her aid; “you must have
+been dreaming! He’s gone away, Beryl. I made him
+go.”</p>
+
+<p>“Gone! Where—what for?” she stared in the dark.</p>
+
+<p>“I sent him. I was afraid to let him stay. Beryl, we’re
+in a dreadful place. His going was the only chance to
+save us.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean he’s to save us from?” cried Beryl,
+stamping her bare foot. “If there’s anything to save us
+from he’d better be here.” She was wild with misery.
+That was what his half-hearted answer had meant, and he
+did not care enough even to bid her good-by.</p>
+
+<p>“He couldn’t do anything here. They’d kill him if
+they found him. Do you know what I heard to-night?”</p>
+
+<p>But the girl did not answer. She was putting on her
+clothes in the dark.</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you send him—what for?” she asked harshly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span></p>
+
+<p>“I sent him to a town—he says there is one—to get a
+boat and come back and take us away. It’s all we can do.
+Egerton isn’t Egerton at all, he only calls himself that,
+and he means to carry you off and marry you to Mr. Erle
+or leave you here to die.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll never go with him. Why did you send Mr. Heriot
+away? There’d be time after we’re left here to run away
+in a boat.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’d be no time for anything, for Heriot and me.”
+But the words did not touch the girl. For the first time
+a distrust of Andria seized her.</p>
+
+<p>“You sent him away because he loves me!” she cried.
+“I don’t believe Mr. Erle wants to marry me. I’ve believed
+everything you say, like a fool, and I don’t even
+know why you call yourself Holbeach. For all I know
+your name may be Heriot. He knew you when he came
+here.”</p>
+
+<p>“My God!” said Andria Erle. No blow of her life had
+ever hurt her like this one. She pulled a sealed envelope
+from the bosom of her dress and thrust it passionately
+into Beryl’s hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Look at that, and you’ll see my name,” she cried, “and
+may God forgive you! I swear before Him that Heriot is
+not and never was anything to me.”</p>
+
+<p>Something in the utter agony of the voice broke
+through the suspicion, the jealousy, of Beryl Corselas’
+heart.</p>
+
+<p>“Andria, Andria!” she cried. “Forgive me! I don’t
+want to know who you are, I don’t care, except that
+you’re my Andria. I’m wild; if Heriot loved me he
+wouldn’t have gone, and he may have gone to his death.
+I must go out and find the old man and his cats. I’m
+frightened what they may do.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not love you—Heriot! He loves you enough not to
+care that you’re——” she stopped. She could not tell and
+there was no chance now, for the girl was past her like a
+whirlwind.</p>
+
+<p>If she had known, she could have found a better way,
+and now it might be too late. These very jaguars she
+had kissed and stroked might even now be tearing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span>
+Heriot’s flesh out on the hillside. With a throat that was
+dry with fear for him, she stood in the garden and
+quavered out her strange, crooning song. She believed
+Andria, and yet, oh! if Heriot would only come back and
+swear to her that he loved her!</p>
+
+<p>The moon had set, and in the hushed darkness that
+comes before dawn the woods lay silent and terrible.
+Trembling and desperate the girl crooned on, and presently
+from far away there came a low, wailing cry. It
+was so far off that she shook for fear she was too late.
+Staring vainly into the darkness in the direction Heriot
+must have taken, she almost cried out as a cold hand
+touched hers from behind. The old man, bent almost
+double, was at her feet, his dreadful pets behind him.</p>
+
+<p>“Where have you been?” she cried, agonized loathing
+in her voice. “What have you done?”</p>
+
+<p>“Little dearest,” he answered submissively, “you told
+me to go and I went. I was asleep; my cats were tired,
+for it is nearly dawn.”</p>
+
+<p>“Have you seen any one?” her strong young hand
+gripped him fiercely. “Tell me!”</p>
+
+<p>“No one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, listen!” Beryl said, tears of relief in her hot eyes,
+for the man spoke quite sanely and there was truth in his
+voice. “I told you to-night you must not hurt that man
+who came to me——”</p>
+
+<p>“We have not touched him, <i>querida mia</i>,” he answered,
+cringing under her hard grasp. “Was that why you
+called?”</p>
+
+<p>“No,” she sobbed. “Try to understand. I sent him to
+the town—there is a town?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” he muttered, “a town of cruelty, where animals
+are beaten until they die, and men laugh at you if you ask
+for bread.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, he’s gone there, to get a boat and come back for
+me. You must catch him and bring him back now. Tell
+him if he loves me he must come back, but not to the
+house. You and he must hide near it, for that man in the
+yacht wants to carry me off.”</p>
+
+<p>The dawn had come on them as she spoke, and in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span>
+sudden, wan light, she saw his face flush with sudden
+fury.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you understand?” she cried sharply. “You must
+make him hide, or we shall all be killed. But you must
+be ready to fight for me when I call you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Fight!” the crazy old voice rang out with a sound that
+made the two great beasts behind him bristle up and lash
+their tails. “We will kill! My cats will kill. We would
+have fought for you last time, but we were too late. Now
+you have come back he shall never get you again.” He
+began to leer and jabber at her until, brave as she was,
+she feared him. Would a thing so crazy ever distinguish
+between Heriot and another?</p>
+
+<p>“If you save me you shall never leave me again,” she
+said very slowly, and with that same touch with which
+she made the jaguars obey her, she laid her hand on his
+wrinkled, repulsive forehead.</p>
+
+<p>“<i>Querida mia!</i>” he stammered, and for the first time he
+met her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“See,” he said painfully, “I understand. This is your
+lover in the woods, but you will not leave the old man
+for him. And the black-eyed one shall not steal you as he
+did before. We, your lover and I, will hide near the
+house with the cats. When we are there you will hear
+my cats laughing, laughing loud, till the black-eyed one’s
+blood turns to water. And when you call us we will come.
+We will not let him get you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not me, nor the woman with red hair.”</p>
+
+<p>“I bit her. I will never bite her again,” he shuffled
+with shame. “I will go now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wait!” she cried. “Can you speak English?”</p>
+
+<p>“English?” he clenched his hands. “No, no English!
+It was English took you away.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then take this,” she pulled the beryl ring off her
+finger, “and tell him to come back. He must know Spanish
+enough for that.”</p>
+
+<p>“At noon we will be back. My cats will sleep there in
+the shade,” he pointed to an oleander thicket. “But first
+they shall laugh till you hear them.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span></p>
+
+<p>He turned and ran, bent so low that he might have
+been a beast like the sinuous, spotted things that followed
+him. Almost before she could draw breath they had all
+disappeared in the scrub. Oh, it was an ill-omened messenger
+to send! And yet Beryl was certain that to let
+Heriot go would mean his coming back to an empty house—or
+worse.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you find Heriot?” said Andria, when the girl returned,
+pale and soaked with dew.</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t try.” She turned her face away as she told
+what she had done.</p>
+
+<p>“Andria,” she whispered, wan in the first sun rays, “I
+wish I knew who I was! For I can’t help thinking I—I
+remember that crazy man’s face. I can’t be anything to
+him. Oh, tell me I can’t!”</p>
+
+<p>Andria could not answer. For pity could not tell this
+girl who played with jaguars that her mother, the madman’s
+daughter, had done the same.</p>
+
+<p>“You dreamed it,” she faltered, “you could never have
+seen him. You were too little when you came to the convent
+to remember anything,” but as she lied she turned
+away, sick at heart.</p>
+
+<p>Erle would marry the girl for his own ends. He would
+not care one straw for the madness in her blood. But if
+she found out, would she ever let Heriot call her wife?
+Child as she was, Andria knew that was beyond her.</p>
+
+<p>“Aren’t you going to take what I gave you?” she said,
+pointing to that big envelope on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” replied Beryl deliberately, “but only to remind
+myself I was a beast. I won’t open it. I’ll keep it. It’s
+none of my business why you call yourself Holbeach.”</p>
+
+<p>Even then Andria could not bring her shame to her
+lips. Beryl should never know if she could help it. If
+not, she had the envelope; it would save her if Heriot
+were not back and Raimond got her. He might swear
+till he was black in the face and his own handwriting
+would damn him.</p>
+
+<p>“We may just have a scene and be left here,” thought
+Andria, “but somehow I don’t think so.” She looked<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span>
+from her bedroom window with weary eyes and saw
+there was no sign of any one coming off the yacht. “I
+wish I knew just what they meant to do.”</p>
+
+<p>But it would have comforted her very little if any one
+had told her that Brian Heriot had known these two
+hours past.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE HAND OF FATE.</p>
+
+<div class="poetry-container">
+<div class="poetry">
+  <div class="stanza">
+    <div class="verse indent0">“Thou sleepest? Awake!</div>
+    <div class="verse indent0">What darest thou get for her sake?”</div>
+  </div>
+</div>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Mr. Egerton stood in his cabin on the <i>Flores</i> making a
+hasty toilet.</p>
+
+<p>His thin face was savage as he shaved, and his hand
+shook as if from bodily fatigue.</p>
+
+<p>“Why the devil doesn’t Raimond come?” he thought,
+and gashed his cheek till he swore aloud, though at the
+same instant the door had opened on his son, a disheveled
+object in silk pajamas.</p>
+
+<p>“You’d better sit down and wait a moment!” said the
+newcomer. “Have a drink?”</p>
+
+<p>Erceldonne mopped his bleeding face.</p>
+
+<p>“Have the goodness not to drawl, I hate it,” he said
+angrily. “You can’t be as indifferent as you pretend after
+the night’s work!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not. I’m much less indifferent,” he said, with a
+short laugh. “I begin to have a hankering after that little
+devil, now since she’s been sharp enough to deceive you.
+I believe if you threw a girl into the sea she’d come up
+smiling in some man’s arms!”</p>
+
+<p>“It wasn’t the girl. It was that damned governess.
+But how the man ever got here——”</p>
+
+<p>“Doesn’t matter now, that I can see,” answered Egerton,
+with a shrug. “You’re sure it was the governess?
+I thought you said she was old.”</p>
+
+<p>“I said she was an excellent woman,” replied Egerton
+dryly.</p>
+
+<p>“All the same. But Mattel said he saw the girl in his
+arms. Heriot’s! And the last man in the world to——But
+it doesn’t matter.”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t believe Mattel, like a fool! Or we could——”</p>
+
+<p>“We couldn’t have done any better. I thought it was
+all up when I heard you laugh and saw the light go out.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span>
+I was in time, though. But, by the Lord, if I’d known it
+was Heriot I don’t think I’d have done it!”</p>
+
+<p>“You would have turned out Erceldonne penniless, I
+suppose, and let him walk into your shoes! You’re sure
+it’s all right?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I tell you!” said Raimond, with sudden vicious
+savagery. “Let it alone!” It was the son who was pale
+now, not the father.</p>
+
+<p>“Curse Mattel and his prowling on shore,” he added,
+biting his mustache. But the girl he had been willing to
+marry for her money—and something else—had suddenly
+grown desirable to him since another man had found her
+fair. She would be hard to get, too, judging from the
+way she had slipped from him to Heriot—and nothing but
+the unattainable was ever coveted by Raimond Erle. If
+Andria had not been too faithful he might have been at
+her feet still.</p>
+
+<p>“If it hadn’t been for Mattel,” said Erceldonne practically,
+“we’d never have known there was a man on the
+island. If Heriot kissed the girl he would have married
+her.” The past conditional came curiously, but to the listener
+it sounded natural enough.</p>
+
+<p>“For God’s sake, wash your face!” he said, with womanish
+disgust, or perhaps because it was not so long
+since he had cleansed a like red stain from his hands.
+“And throw away the water. Mattel might think things
+if he saw it was bloody. He didn’t follow us, I suppose!”</p>
+
+<p>“Mattel is a Maltese thief, who daren’t think or do anything,”
+but he was careful enough to follow his son’s advice.
+“No one knows anything but you and me,” and his
+hand grew unsteady again as he thought of the awful
+danger he had dared last night for the sake of Raimond—Raimond
+and Erceldonne.</p>
+
+<p>Beryl Corselas had builded worse than she knew when
+she had bidden the madman and his dreadful servants to
+keep far away on the night of all nights when they might
+have defended her. But all Erceldonne had thought was
+that luck was on his side still.</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose there’s no reason to stay on here,” said Erle,
+with a glance of loathing out the port-hole. “I’ll do what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span>
+I can with the girl and we’ll take her and the governess
+off to-night. I can make love to her, if I must, at sea.”</p>
+
+<p>Erceldonne nodded. He was himself again. No one
+would have known him for the man of two hours before.</p>
+
+<p>“The sooner the better,” he returned briefly. “Before
+they have time to wonder why he doesn’t come back.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let him alone!” cried Raimond, with that black rage
+again. “If you keep harping on him I’ll chuck the whole
+thing. I don’t care a damn for the succession, it’s only
+the money—and that won’t make me stand your conversation!”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you’d better tell the girl so,” said Erceldonne
+dryly. “Do you suppose she is going to avoid the subject?”</p>
+
+<p>“I know it. She thinks we don’t know anything about
+him,” replied Raimond grimly. “She won’t dare give
+herself away. And once married to her——” he laughed,
+and Andria might have known why.</p>
+
+<p>But Andria, for once, was wearied out. It was no
+more than eight o’clock and she knew Raimond never
+faced existence till eleven. It seemed safe to sleep, and
+sleep she must, or she could not think or act. If Salome
+came in softly and darkened the room it was without an
+idea of the mischief she was doing, nor how Andria Erle
+would wake. Beryl, with a strange color in her cheeks,
+a strange brightness in her tawny eyes, was freshly
+dressed and out even as Andria closed her eyes. From
+pure humiliation she had put that thin, sealed packet in
+her pocket, but she was not thinking of it now. Up and
+down the garden she stepped with a quiet fierceness that
+might have been learned from the jaguars she played
+with. There was no sign of the crazy old man, let her
+call and search as she would; no sign of Heriot, and her
+heart grew full of fear.</p>
+
+<p>Yet there seemed little cause for terror.</p>
+
+<p>If she had thought to see Egerton and his son come
+hurrying up from the yacht to carry her off she was mistaken.
+Neither of them appeared.</p>
+
+<p>She wondered wretchedly why Heriot had left her.
+Surely not because they said she had money; it meant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span>
+nothing to her, instinct told her little to Heriot. Why did
+he not come back?</p>
+
+<p>She was afraid of these two men who had come with
+lies. Why should Erceldonne call himself Egerton to a
+girl to whom neither name meant anything? It came over
+her sharply that an obscure Mr. Egerton might leave
+England unobserved in a yacht, while Lord Erceldonne’s
+departure would have been chronicled in all the papers.</p>
+
+<p>“Whatever he means to do with me, he’ll do it secretly,”
+she thought, trembling. “But oh, if I could only
+hear the cats scream! I must just wait. Only wait.”</p>
+
+<p>But though she waited till the sun rose high and the
+hours passed at noon, she was waiting still.</p>
+
+<p>And it was so that Raimond Erle came up from the
+shore and saw her; standing straight and tall in the blazing
+sun among the gorgeous flowers; young, lithe, magnificent
+with her dusky hair and her golden eyes, and that
+strange color on her cheeks; a woman any man might
+covet. And for the first time he cared nothing for the
+thing he had done.</p>
+
+<p>Every bit of color went from her face as she saw who
+it was, though she had known the step was not Heriot’s.</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” she said defiantly, “what do you want?”</p>
+
+<p>“Only to say good morning. You’re not going to run
+away again, are you?” for she had moved restlessly under
+his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want to run away. Why should I?” she replied,
+with a slow glance of dislike she had not known
+the trick of yesterday. “I want to talk. When is—Mr.
+Egerton—going to take us away?”</p>
+
+<p>“To-day, if you like. But don’t talk here, it’s too
+scorching. Come into the house.” There was nothing
+but his own comfort in the suggestion, but his glance said
+it was hers.</p>
+
+<p>The girl shaded her eyes and looked once round the
+empty garden, the stirless noontide woods. There was
+not a soul.</p>
+
+<p>“Come in, then.” She had caught her breath curiously.
+She led the way, not into the house itself, but up by an
+outside stair to the veranda that opened off Andria’s bedroom.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span>
+From it she could see the faintest signal from the
+hillside down which Heriot must come, if he came in
+time; would be within call of Andria, sleeping like the
+dead behind her closed shutters.</p>
+
+<p>Erle looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>She had a crushed hibiscus blossom in her hand that
+was not so crimson as her mouth. He would get her by
+fair means or foul, if it were only for that and her tawny
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“So you’re anxious to get away?” he said slowly, but
+she hesitated instead of assenting.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t see why I was brought here at all!” she returned
+at last, frowning.</p>
+
+<p>He smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you? I do. Look at me, don’t you remember
+me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Look at me!”—with what different eyes another man
+had said those very words!</p>
+
+<p>“Remember you!” she retorted. “No; how could I?”</p>
+
+<p>But she shivered. The man was lying, as Andria had
+warned her he would lie.</p>
+
+<p>“Think!” he said. “Have you forgotten one evening at
+Blackpool station? And a frightened girl who stood
+there without anywhere to go? Because I remember, if
+you don’t.”</p>
+
+<p>But like a flash it had come back to her. His white
+duck clothes made him look different, but it was the same
+face she had seen. And she remembered there had been
+no pity in the man’s eyes as he watched her.</p>
+
+<p>“You do remember!” he said. “Well, don’t be angry
+if I tell you something. I went away and you haunted
+me. I couldn’t forget you. When I heard of the girl
+found starving in the wreck I knew it was you. I sent
+my father to get you from—the woman”—with a momentary
+hesitation, since he had never known exactly
+about that part of the business and dared not invent—“who
+had adopted you. It was I who suggested bringing
+you here,” he continued calmly lying. “I knew convent
+arms are long and you weren’t safe in England. But if
+you want to go back you can, though it’s a living grave,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span>
+a convent, for a beautiful girl,” he spoke dreamily, and so
+impersonally that yesterday she would not have noticed
+the flattery.</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you care?” abruptly. “I was nothing to
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wanted to help you live your life,” he said, with a
+queer shrug. “That was all. Oh! you are a child still.
+You’ve seen nothing. Not diamonds, nor satin gowns,
+nor balls where the music gets into your blood and you
+know half the men in the room are mad about you.”</p>
+
+<p>“To that life?” said Beryl slowly, for Brian Heriot had
+told her none of these things. Yet she searched the
+empty hillside once more with her eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“That, and more. I don’t know why I cared you
+should be saved from the convent, but I did. You can go
+back, as I said, if you like.”</p>
+
+<p>“No!” she said, with a shudder, remembering only the
+cruelty of Mother Felicitas and nothing of the kindness
+of the other nuns. “They said I had no name, that I was
+a charity child. Am I? If you know anything about me,
+tell me!” she could not keep back the question, though she
+knew it was useless, but the slow, insolent answer turned
+her blood to fire.</p>
+
+<p>“You are Beryl, and you have golden eyes. I don’t
+know, or care for anything more.”</p>
+
+<p>“You do know who I am!” she flashed out at him, “else
+why would your father trouble with me? If he is your
+father and not your uncle, as you said.”</p>
+
+<p>His face changed ever so slightly. Well, Heriot was
+paid for talking!</p>
+
+<p>“I know nothing but that I have done my best to help
+you from that very first night I saw you,” he said, very
+low.</p>
+
+<p>There was a passion on his face there had never been
+on Heriot’s, but she was not old enough to know that
+passion in a man is the very last reason for a woman to
+trust in him. And the sudden softening of the haggard
+lines round his mouth, the widening of his eyes, made her
+for the first time wonder if, after all, he were speaking
+the truth.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Where do you want to take me?” She was staring at
+him with great, fascinated eyes. If he had been like this
+yesterday she would never have run away from him, unwarned
+as she was then.</p>
+
+<p>“Back to England—to London—to the world. Why
+should you be buried here?” he said slowly.</p>
+
+<p>“But you said it wasn’t safe,” she faltered. “The convent——”</p>
+
+<p>“Can’t recall you if you’ll let me take care of you,” he
+answered, with his voice utterly caressing. “Will you?”</p>
+
+<p>For the first time she saw what he meant, what he had
+been meaning all along. And it was just what Andria
+had said. With a start of fright she sprang up.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you mean you want me to marry you?” she cried,
+wide-eyed, and, without her will, Heriot’s face sprang to
+her memory.</p>
+
+<p>She was so beautiful as she stood aghast and trembling
+that the man lost his head.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” he said, “just that!” and before she could move
+had caught her to him and kissed her madly.</p>
+
+<p>She could not cry out because his lips crushed her
+mouth, but the stifled moan would have brought any other
+man to his senses. She fought against him till her lips
+were free.</p>
+
+<p>“I hate you,” she stormed. “Why did I ever listen to
+you when Andria—ah!” she screamed at the top of her
+voice. “Andria!”</p>
+
+<p>If she had stabbed him he could not have let her go
+more suddenly.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?” he said. “Who is Andria?”</p>
+
+<p>But it was another voice that answered him from behind
+his back.</p>
+
+<p>“I!” said Andria Erle, standing like a ghost in her
+white dressing-gown between the open green shutters of
+her bedroom window.</p>
+
+<p>Raimond Erle turned livid.</p>
+
+<p>It was Andria; Andria who was the governess, who
+had been engaged to take care of the only girl in the
+world she should never have met!</p>
+
+<p>He saw once more the pale face, the red-brown hair of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span>
+the woman he had called his wife—and the only emotion
+it brought him was furious hatred.</p>
+
+<p>He looked from her to Beryl and back again and knew
+what he must do.</p>
+
+<p>“And who,” he said calmly, “are you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No one,” she answered steadily, “now! Shall I tell
+you who I was?”</p>
+
+<p>Her eyes blazed at him, standing at the window of the
+very room where she had thanked God he had come back
+to her. The man shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>“No,” he said, “stand back! I will tell you what you
+were, and are. A woman who is no fit companion for an
+innocent girl, who is here under false pretenses and a
+feigned name.”</p>
+
+<p>His quick ear had caught footsteps coming up the
+stairs, and as Andria caught her breath at the words that
+were true enough in their way, Raimond Erle turned to
+his father.</p>
+
+<p>“So this is your governess!” he cried, before she could
+speak. “Do you know who she is? A woman who was
+the talk of all London—a woman no girl should so much
+as see!”</p>
+
+<p>“Raimond!” She had been his wife for five years, or
+she thought so; small wonder she cried out as if he had
+struck her. She reeled where she stood.</p>
+
+<p>“Take the girl away,” said Erle savagely. “Don’t you
+understand?”</p>
+
+<p>But at that cry of his son’s name Lord Erceldonne had
+understood indeed.</p>
+
+<p>It was this woman and no other who had enslaved Raimond
+for five years, and the very irony of fate had
+brought her here to ruin him.</p>
+
+<p>“Andria, what does he mean? What does he know
+about you?”</p>
+
+<p>Beryl had sprung between the two men and flung her
+arms round Andria’s neck. But the woman stood cold as
+marble.</p>
+
+<p>“Come!” said Erceldonne, between his teeth. He laid
+his hand on Beryl’s shoulder and she tore it away.</p>
+
+<p>“Andria, speak to me, don’t mind them!” she cried. “I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span>
+believe in you. I don’t care what they say, Andria, darling.”</p>
+
+<p>Erle’s discarded wife caught her in her arms and stood
+back, knowing that the time was come.</p>
+
+<p>“I am what you made me!” she cried to the man whom
+once she had loved. “I will take care you have no other
+girl to torture as you have tortured me. Oh, I know why
+you want her, why you changed your minds about letting
+her die here!” She came a step nearer to Erle, still holding
+Beryl clasped in one arm. “But you forgot me!”</p>
+
+<p>Her breast heaved as if she could not breathe. She
+kept her eyes on Raimond’s face and never saw Erceldonne
+as he slipped behind her.</p>
+
+<p>There was no stopping the tongue of a furious woman,
+but if Beryl heard her story the game was up. And without
+the girl, ruin stared him in the face. Dead or alive,
+they must have her, and there was no driving Raimond
+when he had the bit in his teeth. He would have her
+quick, not dead, in spite of all the discarded women in
+London.</p>
+
+<p>“Come,” he repeated, with a voice he tried to make
+shocked but only made angry. “This is no place for you.
+And as for you, madam,” to Andria, “we will leave you
+to the society of your friend, Mr. Heriot. I may say that
+what I saw last night shocked and pained me inexpressibly.”</p>
+
+<p>He took Beryl by the arm, but she struck back at him
+wildly, with all the strength of her young arm. For an
+instant the man staggered; the next he had caught his
+son’s eye.</p>
+
+<p>“Settle it,” he said, with an ugly word. And with
+hands that were strong as steel he forced the two women
+apart. It was done so dexterously that neither had time
+to make a sound, but the girl turned on him viciously,
+wrenched away from him, and fell backward down the
+wooden stairs. As she fell she screamed, but another cry
+covered it.</p>
+
+<p>Half an hour afterward Raimond Erle came quietly out
+of a house that seemed strangely still. There was blood
+on his hand and he wiped it away with fastidious care.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">A MURDER IN THE DARK.</p>
+
+
+<p>“Salome, I am going to shut up the house and take all
+the ladies away! They have gone down to the yacht already.
+Pack your things, and be as quick as you can, the
+three of you. I don’t want to waste any time in getting
+off.”</p>
+
+<p>The servants’ quarters were on the other side of the
+house from Andria’s shaded veranda; the three women
+had heard nothing as they sat chattering with the doors
+shut to keep out the noontide heat. Yet Salome leaped to
+her feet with a sudden foreboding, as she saw her master
+open the door.</p>
+
+<p>There was a look on his face she had reason to know,
+and as he spoke her own grew ashy. Yet to Chloe and
+Amelia Jane his matter-of-fact words were joyful tidings
+indeed, and scarcely uttered before they were gone to
+gather their belongings. But Salome stood just as she
+was when she sprang up and saw her master’s face.</p>
+
+<p>“Go!” he said sharply. “I’ve no time to wait for you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where’m I going?” she asked sullenly. “Where’ve I
+got to go?”</p>
+
+<p>“Where you like, but out of this and away from me!
+I’ve no further use for a servant who harbors men in my
+house in secret.”</p>
+
+<p>So he knew! Salome’s face grew a shade more gray.</p>
+
+<p>“He’s gone!” she said. “He went last night.”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s gone, but you’ll go, too!” he answered, with a
+meaning not lost on her. “Get your things.”</p>
+
+<p>“Master, master!” her voice came strangled as she
+threw herself at his feet. “I can’t go nowhere, you know
+dat.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s no concern of mine. I’ve hidden you long enough
+when you betray me. You can come or stay, or drown or
+hang, as you like. Thank your stars I don’t send you
+back to Jamaica! You fool, who’s to know you in England?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span></p>
+
+<p>But she had seen his eyes as she scrambled to her feet.
+There would be no England for her. She knew too much
+to leave, and too much to tell where he was going. A
+dark night, a high wind and a heavy sea, and—even her
+miserable life was dear to her!</p>
+
+<p>“Dat’s true, dey’s no one’ll know me in England,” she
+said softly; too softly if the man had been his usual acute
+self. She turned quietly away and followed the other
+women.</p>
+
+<p>Her master’s heart “beat quick and thick, like a madman
+on a drum,” as he stood in the scorching courtyard.
+No one could get to the big house without crossing the
+paved yard, which no one should do. Raimond, with his
+white sleeve rolled up till an ugly stain was hidden, had
+carried Beryl down to the yacht. Her fall had stunned
+her, and she hung heavy like the dead in his arms. What
+he had begun in Andria’s room the crazy man and his
+jaguars would finish, when the house lay empty and deserted,
+with no one to bar the doors.</p>
+
+<p>Erceldonne turned with a sharp word as the three black
+servants came out, each with a bundle on her head.</p>
+
+<p>Something had quieted Chloe and Amelia Jane, or else
+it was the dreaded presence of their master that lent speed
+to their feet as they hurried down the path before him.
+Salome had never opened her lips as she gathered up her
+clothes. She walked before Egerton with a slowness that
+maddened him, for he dared not precede her. The great
+door of the house stood open as they passed, and she saw
+it. What man in his senses would go away and leave his
+house open, for the things that haunted the place to ravage?
+Yet she said nothing as they went on in the blazing
+sun.</p>
+
+<p>There was not a sound anywhere; not a breeze even,
+when they reached the corner of the path and saw the
+open bay before them, with the boat waiting at the shore
+and Chloe and Amelia Jane already in it in their haste to
+be gone. Yet even Chloe and ’Melia Jane leaped to their
+feet at the sudden strident howl that waked the noonday
+hush. They had heard that cry before; in the night it had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span>
+broken their dreams, but in the broad daylight it brought
+the terror of death on them.</p>
+
+<p>From far up behind the house it rang, something between
+a wail and a scream, but full of a hideous menace,
+a ravening fierceness. Before Erceldonne could draw
+breath, it seemed as though hell had broken loose behind
+him. Sharp, snarling cries ran under that awful, ceaseless
+wailing, and each second were louder and louder.</p>
+
+<p>“Run!” cried the man, with white lips, feeling in his
+pocket for the revolver that was not there. “Run!”</p>
+
+<p>But Salome, like a black statue, stood in his way.</p>
+
+<p>“Dey smells de white blood,” she said politely. “De
+meat fur de jaguars’ wedding.”</p>
+
+<p>With a furious word, Erceldonne sprang past her. He
+was brave enough, but not for the terror that runs scenting
+its prey in daylight. He tripped and fell headlong
+over the bundle she threw in front of him, but before she
+could seize him he was up on his feet and running wildly.
+In the hideous uproar that came nearer and nearer, Salome
+laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“Run, run!” she screamed aloud. “You ain’t going
+quick enough; dey got de heels of you!” She bowed and
+swayed in horrible derision, as he stumbled, recovered
+himself, and tore on. The next instant she had taken to
+her heels and was running faster than Erceldonne himself.
+But not to the boat. Something yellow and white
+had flashed by her, hunting silently, without a sound. By
+instinct, she ran, she knew not where; and as she ran she
+shrieked.</p>
+
+<p>The Italian captain of the <i>Flores</i> had been a cutthroat
+from his youth up, and now made an excellent livelihood
+by hiring out his yacht and asking no questions. But
+even he was pale as he stood on the bridge and took the
+boat away from that accursed island. That there should
+be wild animals in so desolate a place seemed natural
+enough to a man who knew nothing of the Azores except
+the name; yet he had never seen even tigers so fierce as to
+hunt men in broad day. And hunt they had. Mr. Egerton
+had saved his life by a bare fifty yards, and the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span>
+screams of the black servants, who had been too fat to
+run, rang in the captain’s ears still.</p>
+
+<p>No wonder the signorina had been carried on board
+half-dead, or that the two colored women crouched, weeping,
+on the deck.</p>
+
+<p>“The place is accursed,” he said sharply to his first officer,
+who would have liked to stay and hunt the strange,
+fierce beast that had stood snarling at the very water’s
+edge and disappeared like magic as he drew his revolver.
+“If Mattel had not been a son of the devil he would not
+have got off in his skin last night.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Raimond Erle drew a long breath of relief as he
+sat with his father in the saloon and heard the steady
+sound of the screw. He glanced at Erceldonne, seated
+opposite him, and aged by ten years by that flight down
+the glaring hillside.</p>
+
+<p>“That was a damned lucky escape,” he said slowly. “I
+didn’t half-believe in your beasts before. But they’ve
+done well by you now!”</p>
+
+<p>“How?”</p>
+
+<p>Erceldonne’s breath came unevenly still.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you ever read the papers?” but his own hand
+shook as he lifted his whisky and soda, for, for form’s
+sake, the two sat at luncheon, waited on by the servants,
+who could not understand a word they said. “Well, it
+will be an item: ‘Strange and Terrible Story From’—we
+can find a place. But it will go like this:</p>
+
+<p>“‘News comes through Reuter’s Agency’—and they
+shall get their information in some very natural way that
+can’t be challenged—‘news comes through Reuter’s
+Agency that the Honorable Brian Heriot, heir-presumptive
+to Baron Heriot, and his wife have been killed while
+jaguar-hunting in—South America? The late Mr.
+Heriot was at one time well known in London society,
+and his wife, who perished with him, was a whilom celebrated
+beauty, known, for want of another name, as “The
+Lovely Andria.” The present Lord Heriot is unmarried
+and the title will devolve on the Heriots of Maxwellton.
+No particulars of the tragedy have yet been obtained by
+our correspondent.’ There, that will explain the sad tale<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span>
+we have to tell our charges, and everything will be perfectly
+open and aboveboard!”</p>
+
+<p>The whisky had warmed him. He never flinched at the
+thought of how Andria Erle must die.</p>
+
+<p>“Have you no sense?” cried Erceldonne angrily.</p>
+
+<p>“We dare not set any rumors going.”</p>
+
+<p>“Public press—nothing to do with us. Some Englishman
+is certain to have been killed jaguar-hunting—South
+America is a big place, and his name will do for the first
+unidentified fool that gets eaten. Put a thing into people’s
+heads and they’ll think it.”</p>
+
+<p>“That won’t explain the girl knowing of it!”</p>
+
+<p>Raimond leaned across the table and spoke so low his
+father could just hear.</p>
+
+<p>“The girl is my affair,” he said slowly. “You made a
+fool of yourself with your island and your governess, and
+your fright of an old woman over whom you knew you
+had the whip-hand the instant you found the girl. If it
+hadn’t been for your crazy friend and his jaguars we
+should have been up a tree. When Beryl’s my wife we
+can find out who she is—and no reverend mother can get
+her away then!”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you propose to make her sign the register?
+I’ve no reason to suppose you can make a marriage under
+a false name any more legal than the rest of the world!”
+said his father cynically.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s my concern,” answered Raimond fiercely.
+“You’ve managed this business so far, and you’ve made a
+mess of it. If it hadn’t been for you carrying off the girl
+like a pirate in a dime novel and getting the only woman
+you had reason to fear for her governess, there would
+have been no trouble. The girl was coming to me like a
+tame bird when that red-haired devil opened the shutters!
+As it is, she heard nothing to matter; your ‘excellent
+woman’ had evidently kept a close tongue in her head.
+But thanks to you, I’ve a hard job instead of an easy one.
+I tell you plainly that if she were not as beautiful as
+women are made, I’d let her go to the devil—or Mother
+Felicitas!”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span></p>
+
+<p>“And her money to the convent and Erceldonne to the
+hammer—or you and I kicked out!”</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly.”</p>
+
+<p>The brief courage of whisky had died out of him; he
+was suddenly cold in the hot, close cabin. To Andria he
+gave no thought except that a millstone was gone from
+about his neck. But from Brian Heriot, who had been
+his friend, he could not get his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p>That blind shot in the dark, that long carrying of a
+burden under which he had sweated, though his father
+had helped in the task; that sudden light of the match
+the latter had struck as they lifted a man’s body for the
+last time to cast it down a rocky gully that reeked with a
+strange, wild scent—the man who had fired the shot
+turned sick as the match burned out, for, in its flickering
+light, he had seen the face that would not leave his
+memory.</p>
+
+<p>In his amazed and horrified recognition of the man
+who had been his friend, he might even then have tried
+to save him, but his very start of astonishment sent the
+body the faster into that black gully. What happened
+next he scarcely knew. It was all a dream of mad panic,
+with himself and Erceldonne flying through the night till
+dawn came and found them in their boat.</p>
+
+<p>There was no one on watch on the deserted deck, not
+even Mattel knew when they returned, careful body-servant
+though he was. It had taken all Raimond Erle’s
+nerve to put on his night-clothes and lie down on his bed.
+He had been acting, acting ever since, except for those
+few minutes alone with the woman who had risen as if
+from the dead to balk him.</p>
+
+<p>He had feigned nothing there, only given rein to his
+fury till, with a last jerk of his wrist, his work was done.
+And he was tired of feigning now.</p>
+
+<p>“Listen!” he said, with outspoken brutality, “once for
+all. If you so much as name him to me again, I’m done
+with you. You can sink or swim, as you like. I will
+never have him spoken of in my hearing.”</p>
+
+<p>For answer, a girl’s voice rang out from a shut cabin
+near-by, high and shrill as voices are in delirious pain.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Brian!” it called. “Brian, where are you? Heriot,
+Heriot!”</p>
+
+<p>For a moment the man trembled, and then the very
+rage of hell came over him, that it was Beryl who called
+on Heriot and not Andria.</p>
+
+<p>So it had been for her sake that Heriot was on the
+island! For a moment he grinned like an angry dog;
+and then he saw the servants gazing at him in scared
+amazement, and forced himself to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>“Let her call,” he said to his father, in the English
+they could not understand. “She’s got to call louder yet
+to wake the dead!”</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE DEATH-TRAP.</p>
+
+
+<p>In the wild panic that had overtaken her, Salome ran
+on and on, crashing in bewilderment through the thick
+scrub without knowing or caring where she was going.
+Fat as she was, she got over the ground with marvelous
+speed, till she tripped on a tough vine and fell sprawling.</p>
+
+<p>The jar and shock brought back her senses. At first
+she shook where she lay, lest the beast she had seen
+might leap on her and tear her life out, not caring if she
+were black or white. But as the minutes passed and
+nothing stirred anywhere, the stout colored woman scrambled
+up, and stood quivering and panting.</p>
+
+<p>She could hear nothing, though she listened with all
+her might; those horrible, snarling cries no longer made
+the woods ring. Stupefied, she felt her arms and legs, as
+if to make sure they were whole, and then slowly and
+falteringly began to make her way back to the house with
+the instinct of a lost dog.</p>
+
+<p>“Dey got him dat time, sure!” she thought, stumbling
+through the hot, dark undergrowth, a ludicrous fat figure
+in stained white clothes, crowned with a frizzy mop of
+hair that would have humiliated her, could she have
+seen it.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll go back to de big house; if dey ain’t gone I
+kin hide, and dey can’t lock me in so I can’t get out
+again. And I ain’t got nowhar else to go. Dese woods
+ain’t wholesome at night; black meat and white looking
+mighty like in de dark!”</p>
+
+<p>But as she came cautiously out on the hillside and
+could see the bay, she flung herself down behind some
+bushes and crept on all fours into thicker cover.</p>
+
+<p>The yacht was going. She could see it rounding the
+point.</p>
+
+<p>“Glory, glory!” said the woman soberly. “Dey’s
+gone. I kin go up to de house and get rested, and to-morrow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span>
+I’ll tramp through de woods to dat place Mr.
+Heriot’s went to. I guess I kin take in washing wid
+de best of ’em, and dey ain’t no one going to know me,
+neither. ’Cause a man dat’s inside a jaguar ain’t goin’
+to talk—and der ain’t no one else!”</p>
+
+<p>She walked on wearily to the great hall door, and
+was just closing it behind her when, from the hillside
+behind the house, the dreadful cry of a hunting jaguar
+brought her heart to her mouth. With frenzied haste
+she bolted the heavy door and the lower windows; but
+there came no sound of padded feet in the garden, no
+soft, heavy tread against window or door. Only that
+wailing cry rang out insistently, as if some beast called
+to its mate in vain.</p>
+
+<p>Salome, safe in her fortress, had time to listen; and
+knew in another instant that it was no beast that called.
+The imitation was good enough for Egerton, but not
+for Salome, who knew the real thing.</p>
+
+<p>“’Pears like de end o’ de world!” she said to herself;
+but, with the end of Egerton, her heart had an
+end of fear. “Dat crazy man’s on top dis time, but de
+Lawd be praised, I ain’t out on no sea dis day! Oh,
+my poor ladies, my poor ladies! But you’re free dis minute
+same as me. De master’s dead!”</p>
+
+<p>She said it with a shudder, for the beast that had
+passed her with long, noiseless bounds had not gone
+so quickly that she had not had time to see the dreadful
+teeth in its red, drooping jaw.</p>
+
+<p>From very force of habit, she turned and went round
+the house, inspecting each bolted door. She must sleep
+in here to-night, for she was too shaken to cross the
+courtyard with that snarling whine ringing in her ears.</p>
+
+<p>She was dizzy, too, with her long run in the heat,
+and she climbed up-stairs painfully. It would feel safer
+to sleep up there, but her trembling legs would scarcely
+carry her.</p>
+
+<p>The room at the head of the stairs had been the
+governess’, and the exhausted Salome turned into it,
+only to sink on her knees with a groan of superstitious
+terror.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span></p>
+
+<p>The governess had gone. Then, who was this who
+lay like a log on the floor, face down?</p>
+
+<p>“Lawd, Lawd!” moaned Salome, her eyes all whites
+in her ashy face. “Missus, missus!”</p>
+
+<p>But the white thing on the floor never moved. Only
+the rising afternoon breeze came through the open window
+and lifted the long locks of loose, ruddy hair, and
+through the silence came that endless, blood-curdling
+wail of the madman outside.</p>
+
+<p>Inch by inch the black woman crawled nearer, her
+eyes standing out with terror.</p>
+
+<p>If this thing on the floor should leap up and spring
+at her, as ghosts and haunts were well known to do!</p>
+
+<p>But it never stirred.</p>
+
+<p>With the last remnant of her waning courage, Salome
+stretched out a shaking, black hand, and then recoiled
+with a yell of sheer horror. It was no ghost, but the
+governess herself; but, whether dead or alive, the servant
+could not tell. Her weariness all forgotten, she
+lifted the quiet body in her arms, and saw why it had
+lain so motionless.</p>
+
+<p>On one temple was a dark bruise, a deep, oozing cut,
+such as might be made by the sharp edges of a man’s
+signet ring. And a man’s handkerchief had bound the
+slack wrists together; a man’s clumsy, hurried hand tied
+a thick, wet bath-towel over the unconscious face, and
+knotted the cord from the curtain cruelly tight around
+the slim, bare feet.</p>
+
+<p>There were scissors on the toilet-table, and it took
+Salome no time to cut the double-knotted towel from
+Andria’s head and face. But it took minutes before
+the almost suffocated lungs did their work again. Salome
+was frightened as she dashed water on the swollen,
+crimson face.</p>
+
+<p>“Set up, my lamb!” she cried quickly, when the first
+struggle for breath was over. “You ain’t hurt. Wait,
+ole Salome’ll cut your hands an’ feet loose!”</p>
+
+<p>To her unutterable joy, Andria began to move. Presently,
+she lifted her hand to the cut on her head, but
+it fell again, limply.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Dat’s right,” said Salome, fanning her, “dat’s just
+right. You’s coming round, honey. Lean against Salome!”
+She looked down at the face on her knee, and
+the torn, white dressing-gown, and poured eau de
+cologne with a lavish hand on the bare, white throat.</p>
+
+<p>At the pungent scent of it, Andria’s eyelids flickered.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl,” she said, “Beryl.”</p>
+
+<p>Salome nearly dropped her.</p>
+
+<p>“Ain’t she here?” she cried, and something in her
+voice roused Andria more than all the restoratives in
+the world. “Oh, missus! Ain’t she in her room?” for
+if they had not taken one, surely they had not taken
+the other.</p>
+
+<p>Dizzy and sick, Andria clutched at her.</p>
+
+<p>“They took her,” she said thickly, as if her throat
+hurt her. “Salome, where are they? Why do you look
+like that?” She raised herself till she could see the
+dark face.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, missus, dey’s gone!” Salome cried wildly.
+“Dey’s gone in de steamer, all but him; and he’s et.
+De jaguar done got him.”</p>
+
+<p>She pointed out the window. “Hark at dat!” she
+whispered. “De ole man’s singing ’cause master’s dead.”</p>
+
+<p>“Gone!” Andria got somehow to her feet, and nearly
+fell with the pain in her swimming head. “Quick, when—did
+they go?” It hurt intolerably to speak, but the
+dizziness was passing.</p>
+
+<p>Salome told her, but to the story of Egerton’s race
+with death Andria hardly listened. Raimond had got
+Beryl, and would have killed her to do it.</p>
+
+<p>Mad with rage at seeing her, he had struck her down
+on the floor; and then, for fear of what she might
+come to herself and do, had tied her, hand and foot,
+and left her to the jaguars. She was a woman, and
+too faithful. There is no sin on earth a man resents
+so much.</p>
+
+<p>“Go look through the house!” she cried, holding her
+aching head and feeling her hand, wet with her blood
+from the cut Raimond’s ring had left. But she knew
+the search was useless. And Egerton’s death was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span>
+neither here nor there. He might have been murdered
+before his son’s eyes, but Raimond would not let the
+girl go on account of it.</p>
+
+<p>“I fought so badly,” she thought, in wild self-reproach.
+“I made him furious. And I knew, if he were angry,
+he would stop at nothing. Oh, Beryl, Beryl!”</p>
+
+<p>Sick at heart, with the knowledge of what lay before
+the girl when Raimond should tire of her—for a legitimate
+wife can be neglected as well as another when her
+novelty palls—she leaned against Salome, utterly motionless
+and despairing.</p>
+
+<p>“If I’d a gun,” said the woman, suddenly and savagely,
+“I’d kill dat ole man out dere! Standing yelling
+at de house like a meowing cat.”</p>
+
+<p>“Which man?” but, as if new life had sprung in her,
+Andria sat erect and listened. The cry that was
+enough like a jaguar’s to deceive most people, rose
+across the stillness, and the sound of it made the slow
+blood come into her pale cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>Just so, Beryl had told her, would the old man make
+his cats cry when Heriot and he came back. But for
+Beryl Corselas they had come too late.</p>
+
+<p>“Salome!” Andria exclaimed, and for the first time
+there were tears in her hopeless eyes. “It’s Mr. Heriot,
+he’s come back! Come, help me. We must go out, or
+he won’t know we’re alone.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go out—and it gettin’ on to sundown! Lie down,
+my lamb,” said Salome coaxingly, “and rest your head.”
+For the poor soul could only think the blow had taken
+her mistress’ wits.</p>
+
+<p>“No, no!” said Andria. Between laughing and crying
+she poured out all that Salome did not know, and
+saw, even then, that the woman did not believe her.
+“You can stay here,” she ended. “I’ll go. You know
+the old man won’t hurt us now.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not wid little miss at our backs, p’r’aps,” said Salome
+grimly. “How do you know he won’t say we’ve
+took and killed her? Where’d we be den?”</p>
+
+<p>But she followed Andria down-stairs, helped her across<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span>
+the garden, too stanch to leave her alone, though great
+beads of sweat rolled off her forehead in her fright.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Heriot!” Andria called, leaning against Salome’s
+terrified bulk. “Mr. Heriot!”</p>
+
+<p>But nothing answered, till, in the sudden silence that
+had fallen as those beastly cries ceased, her own voice
+echoed back to her from the wooded hillside.</p>
+
+<p>“Heriot, Heriot—Heriot!” it mocked, thin and clear;
+and died away.</p>
+
+<p>With a sob that choked her, Andria remembered that
+to call the old man she must croon like Beryl had done,
+and she could not remember the weird tune, or sing
+it if she could.</p>
+
+<p>“Stay here,” she said. “I must go to them.”</p>
+
+<p>But Salome’s heart was white.</p>
+
+<p>“Might as well die as be scared to death,” she answered,
+with chattering teeth, and, with her arms round
+the swaying figure of her mistress, she walked on—to
+death, for all she knew.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Heriot!” Andria called again, as they reached
+the outlying fringes of the impenetrable scrub. The
+old man’s name—if he had one—she did not know.
+But as she thought it, he stood before her, come out
+of the bushes as if by magic.</p>
+
+<p>Salome groaned as only a black person can. But
+Andria saw the man’s face, and, for the first time, there
+was no fleering mockery in it. In the low sunlight he
+looked not the madman she had fought with in the
+night, but an old, miserable creature, wizened and bowed,
+and clothed in rags that were strangely clean. And
+yet she recoiled involuntarily against Salome as he ran
+to her, bent forward in the old way, so that his lean,
+knotted hands almost touched the ground.</p>
+
+<p>To her utter amazement, he fell at her feet and kissed
+the hem of her gown. The next minute he stood up
+and began to talk very slowly in Spanish. What he
+said she could not tell, but she knew it was a string
+of questions. She touched her own breast with a quivering
+finger, then Salome pointed, as his wild eyes met
+hers, with utter despair, to the sea.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span></p>
+
+<p>He understood her, for his face grew fierce, and his
+cry of mad rage turned her cold. To her ears, he
+seemed once more to be jabbering at her, but, to her
+wild surprise, Salome answered him. Salome, an ignorant
+black woman, a minute ago palsied with fright, had
+gone boldly to his side, and was talking swiftly enough
+in a strange bastard Spanish.</p>
+
+<p>The old creature hid his face in his hands with a
+pitiful, smothered cry as he heard. Then he turned
+to Andria with what—if she had known it—were miserable
+wails for pardon, wretched gratitude that she had
+at least tried to save the girl whom his crazed brain
+still took for another.</p>
+
+<p>Salome, the respectful, shook Andria as if she had
+been a child.</p>
+
+<p>“Missus, he won’t hurt us! I told him all we knows,
+and he say to come to his place in de woods. Mr.
+Heriot dere wid him. And he say his cats is tame,
+’cept when he makes dem hunt. You hear him call out
+when I say master’s dead? He say: ‘De vengeance
+o’ God!’ Just dat, over and over. Missus, de black
+work dat I knows been here ain’t nothin’ to what’s been
+done to dis poor ole man!”</p>
+
+<p>“Why is Mr. Heriot in the woods?” cried Andria.
+“Ask him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Because dey shot him; shot him like dey’d shoot a
+dog!” she answered bitterly. “Come, missus, come!
+We got to get him to de big house before dark.”</p>
+
+<p>Great tears pouring down her black face, she walked
+on, not daring to tell that the old man had said Heriot
+was dead.</p>
+
+<p>It had seemed a long, rough way last night in the
+dark to that rocky gully for the two men who sweated
+under their burden, with eyes everywhere for the dangers
+they must dare if Heriot’s end were to be sure.
+It was a risky thing—for the throwers—to cast an
+insensible man down into a jaguar’s den, and they ran
+for their lives afterward for what seemed miles—would
+have run vainly if chance had not taken the old man
+and his beasts to sleep elsewhere.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span></p>
+
+<p>But it was really no distance, even for a woman
+swaying with pain and dizziness, by the smooth, narrow
+track the old man took. There was no room for
+two to walk abreast, and the black woman put her
+strong hands under Andria’s arms from behind and
+steadied her, for pain made her reel.</p>
+
+<p>In between two high rocks they passed, and then
+squeezed through a narrow passage that wound and
+burrowed like the dried-up brook it was, between two
+high cliffs. Over their heads the blue sky showed like
+a narrow ribbon; the dark air of the passage felt like
+a cellar, and, with each step they took after the crazy
+man, a strange, wild smell grew pungent in their nostrils.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s de cats,” began Salome disgustedly, and then
+yelled in Andria’s ear, and nearly threw her down with
+her start. Something had touched her skirts, and over
+her shoulder she saw at her very heels, what seemed an
+endless procession of wild beasts, walking softly in her
+footsteps.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, my soul!” Salome yelled again, and scuffled
+wildly to pass Andria. “Dey’s got me.”</p>
+
+<p>The old man turned with a grin.</p>
+
+<p>“Be quiet, woman!” he said, in his guttural Spanish.
+“Those are my sisters and brothers and their children.
+They will not touch you till I say—kill!” but at the
+word the nearest beast gave a whining snarl, and Salome,
+with one bound of terror, passed their master,
+nearly squeezing him to death, and out of the passage
+into a round, open space like a quarry that narrowed
+up into the rocky gully, where last night a murderer
+had thrown his victim.</p>
+
+<p>But Andria cared nothing for Salome or the jaguars.
+Straight opposite the rocky wall of the queer place was
+undermined into an overhanging cave, and under it,
+rolled in a ragged blanket, was the motionless figure
+of a man.</p>
+
+<p>“Heriot!” she sobbed, and ran to him. But he did
+not open his eyes, as she knelt beside him, and the
+hand she seized in hers was stone-cold in the hot, close
+air.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">MOTHER FELICITAS.</p>
+
+
+<p>“Ah!”</p>
+
+<p>It was an indescribable sound, and it stopped sweet-faced
+Sister De Sales in the serious business of laying
+out her neat little account-books.</p>
+
+<p>Mother Felicitas sat in her straight-backed chair in
+her own parlor and gripped the table in front of her,
+as if only by holding fast to something could she keep
+from drifting out on the great sea of death.</p>
+
+<p>She had not been herself since that strange disappearance
+of Beryl Corselas. A constant, agonized fear
+that ate at her heart had made even her agonized nerves
+give way, her step that had been noiseless, heavy and
+uncertain, her pale skin like parchment stretched over
+bone. And this morning she had heard that which
+wrung a cry from her stiff lips, though she was not
+alone to bear her terror.</p>
+
+<p>“Dear mother, what is it?” cried Sister De Sales,
+flurriedly rising. “You are ill—suffering?”</p>
+
+<p>For the reverend mother’s face was more grayish-white
+than the whitewashed plaster of the parlor walls.</p>
+
+<p>Mother Felicitas nodded speechlessly. But for all
+that sudden pang at her heart, she moved her hand
+jerkily, so that it covered an open letter on the table.</p>
+
+<p>“Water—a faintness!” she managed to say. But
+when Sister De Sales got back with water and wine
+the reverend mother was lying back in her chair.</p>
+
+<p>The sister was a simple soul, and saw only that the
+Mother Superior’s ill turn was over; not—what the
+dead Mother Benedicta would have seen—that a certain
+pale-blue, gold-embossed note that had been conspicuous
+enough among a batch of business-letters had disappeared
+from sight.</p>
+
+<p>It was the day for going over the week’s accounts,
+and Sister De Sales was wont to dread it, in spite of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span>
+possessing a good head for figures, so sharp were the
+reverend mother’s sunken eyes and so keen her instant
+detection of a penny out in the balance-sheet. But to-day
+she would willingly have seen her books all proved
+wrong if only the superior could have strength to do it.</p>
+
+<p>“You are not well, dear mother; you would see the
+doctor if I sent for him?” she said timidly, looking at
+the gray pallor of the hard face.</p>
+
+<p>Mother Felicitas roused herself.</p>
+
+<p>“No, sister, no!” she said, with a sort of panic, and
+forced her manner to its old authority. “It is nothing.
+I am not so young as I was, and I forget it, perhaps.
+But we will leave the accounts till to-morrow. I—I
+will rest now.”</p>
+
+<p>She made no demur as the anxious sister placed a
+stool under her feet, but at the gentle coaxing to drink
+some wine she frowned harshly.</p>
+
+<p>“No, no! Go,” she said, “and let me rest. Those
+things, as I said, can wait.”</p>
+
+<p>Sister De Sales withdrew, softly, aghast. Never in
+all her convent-life had she known any duty postponed
+“till to-morrow.” The reverend mother must be very
+ill, indeed. She would see Sister Agnes; between them
+they might make Mother Felicitas see reason and a
+doctor. The excuse for her sudden faintness was but
+the unselfish desire to spare others pain. “Not so young
+as I was,” she had said, and Sister De Sales, stout and
+forty-five, knew that she was the elder of the two by
+a year or more.</p>
+
+<p>Yet behind that closed door it was an old, old
+woman who dragged herself to it and shot the bolt.
+It had taken all her self-control not to scream at Sister
+De Sales to be silent with her foolish talk about a doctor.
+She would have no doctor to speak learnedly to
+the next in rank of an overworked body and a troubled
+mind.</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t have any doctor,” she said to herself, as
+she sank on her hard chair again. “I’m not dying—not
+yet! I can’t die,” she whispered with a shudder.
+“I should see them all standing round my coffin, I should<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span>
+hear their astonishment. Sister De Sales, who thinks I
+am a saint; Father Maurice, the new chaplain, almost
+crying because I had withheld my sins from him in the
+confessional.” Her face grew strong again as she
+thought where they would bury her—in unconsecrated
+ground.</p>
+
+<p>She was a clever woman; she knew even in her
+wretchedness now that of all the convent not one nun
+had a personal ambition but herself. She had felt the
+gentle piety round her stifling often enough, though she
+had managed never to show it. There had been reasons
+for her to leave the world, but even here in seclusion she
+had worked and strained for the power she had reached—worked
+half for safety, that there might be no one over
+her, half to find peace for her miserable mind.</p>
+
+<p>Well, she had had her way! She ruled the convent
+as no one before her had ever done. The community
+had never been so rich, so respected; the nuns, if they
+did not love her, held her in awe for her saintly austerity,
+her ceaseless industry—and here was what it had
+all come to. Every one of those good and gentle women,
+who were saints, indeed, would shrink from the holy
+mother raised above them if her secret history were
+revealed. Alive, she would be excommunicated; dead,
+she writhed in her chair as she thought of the hushed
+astonishment, the shocked amazement of the little world
+she ruled.</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, no!” she said to herself. “As I have lived
+I will die and be buried; no one shall ever know. But
+I can’t die yet.”</p>
+
+<p>She stretched out her hand for the wine she had
+refused, and drank it eagerly. No woman in the world
+had lived a harder, more self-denying life than she.
+Was it all to count for nothing now, just for the want
+of a little resource, a little more courage?</p>
+
+<p>“No one shall know,” she said again, as the wine
+brought some warmth to her slow blood. As she lifted
+her eyes they caught the inscription of a picture on
+the wall.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Death and the Judgment.’” The words struck her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span>
+like an actual blow, but she never lowered her startled
+eyes.</p>
+
+<p>What she had done she had done. She was willing
+to bear the brunt of it, but not the shame of humiliation
+before the nuns, who revered her in their pure and
+gentle hearts.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Death and the Judgment,’” she thought, but she
+dared not say it aloud, when, for all she knew, Death
+might be at her very elbow, and for the Judgment she
+was unprepared.</p>
+
+<p>Yet no idea of a tardy repentance, a confession at
+the eleventh hour, entered her fevered mind, as she
+drew that terrible letter out of the folds of her habit.
+She had fought her own battles; she would fight them
+once more, and then die, if she must, in the odor of
+sanctity. She thrust away the thought that this strange
+horror at her heart was the beginning of repentance.
+Almost she felt her own strong self again, as she deliberately
+opened and reread the letter that had shaken
+her nerve till she cried out.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it was only a civil, well-meaning letter from one
+woman to another.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>“Mrs. Fuller presents her compliments to the superioress
+of St. Mary’s Convent, and begs to inform her
+that she knows nothing of the missing pupil of that
+institution who was supposed to be traveling on the
+Continent in her care. Mrs. Fuller was both surprised
+and horrified to find that unscrupulous persons had
+made use of her name to deceive the matron and guardians
+of St. Anne’s Workhouse. The unknown woman
+who carried off the girl under Mrs. Fuller’s name must
+have been fully cognizant of her movements, as she
+had certainly spent the winter abroad with an invalid
+niece. Mrs. Fuller begged to assure the superioress of
+her deep sympathy in her anxiety for the young girl
+who was lost, and also to inform her that she had set
+a detective to work to trace out the wretches who have
+made so wicked and cruel a use of her name. As yet
+no clue had been found to their identity.”</p>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span></p>
+
+<p>A second note was enclosed in another hand, and it
+was this that had brought the reverend mother low,
+though it was but a rather disconcerted epistle from a
+well-known detective to his employer, regretting that
+so far he had discovered nothing.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot">
+
+<p>“I may mention as a curious coincidence,” ran that
+paragraph that had wrung a cry from the wretched
+woman, “that if the missing girl’s name is really Beryl
+Corselas, her discovery is a matter of importance, as it
+may throw light on an unexplained case of murder and
+abduction which puzzled the whole force years ago, and,
+incidentally, may deprive a certain noble family of their
+estates. But that, of course, is between you and me.”</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>It struck Mother Felicitas that the detective’s letter
+was not especially businesslike; but it would have put
+fresh terror in her soul had she known why. The man
+was under a deep obligation to Mrs. Fuller, had thorough
+trust—this time misplaced—in her discretion, and
+was ready to turn the world upside down to find out
+the person who had dared to take such liberties with
+her name. But as it was, Mother Felicitas had read
+enough. She thought of that note written to the guardians
+in which she had said that it was on her authority
+Mrs. Fuller had taken the girl from the workhouse.</p>
+
+<p>“I can explain that if I am obliged to,” she thought
+heavily. “My lawyer will bear me out that I sent him
+to make inquiries,” but her brain went swiftly as she
+wondered if the workhouse authorities had that letter—or
+Erceldonne.</p>
+
+<p>If he had it, her foolhardiness alone had put it in
+his hands.</p>
+
+<p>“He would not dare to use it,” she thought, and
+wiped her upper lip, that was wet. “It must be he who
+has the girl; no one else would be bold enough. And
+if he has her, he would not keep her. The money that
+I meant——” The pain struck her heart again, and
+more dizzily than ever she caught at the table for support.
+When it passed she could no longer force herself
+to think.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span></p>
+
+<p>Dim visions passed before her eyes of a boy she had
+loved; of another, a half-grown lad, whom she had not
+known existed till he was brought home from Eton and
+coolly introduced to her as Erceldonne’s eldest son; of
+a baby girl she had loathed because she was what a
+fair-haired boy could never be; of a thing she had done
+to make a man stand in terror of her, and for hatred of
+a woman who had never wronged her. It had been in
+that man’s interest to keep Mother Felicitas quiet—if
+he knew her secret—all of it!—or not.</p>
+
+<p>If he knew!</p>
+
+<p>She groaned aloud. He must have found out something
+or he would never have burdened himself with
+a homeless girl, long ago thought dead and gone. He
+must know about the money, and meant it and the girl
+to go to his son with the hard, brown eyes, for whose
+sake another lad had been turned out on the world to
+sink or swim as he liked.</p>
+
+<p>Hand in hand, the miserable woman seemed to see
+that brown-eyed boy and that baby girl, though the
+years had long since made them man and woman. If
+they stood so, indeed, Erceldonne could defy her, could
+afford to stand aside in silence and let her old sins
+come to light.</p>
+
+<p>Looking back, Mother Felicitas could see with what
+a devilish cleverness he had always stood aside, trusting
+to chance and the hour to do what he dared not put
+his hand to. Only once had she known him to show any
+trace of human feeling—when he took that fair-haired
+boy, who had no other real name but Guy, from the
+third-rate school, where he was a half-starved teacher,
+and gave him five hundred pounds to start for himself
+in sugar-planting in Jamaica. She knew that was true,
+for she had seen the boy’s grateful letters to the man
+he only knew as a distant friend of his father. It had
+been sent to her, she knew very well by whom, as the
+easiest way of telling a professed nun. It began: “My
+dear Mr. Egerton,” but Mother Felicitas knew that
+Lord Erceldonne’s conscience would not require him
+to tell the truth when he did a kindness. That memory<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span>
+had softened her heart a little to the man she hated;
+it was as well for him that she did not know the bloody
+fragments of that uncashed check had lain on a sunny
+hillside till they blew away, instead of being cashed at
+Lord Erceldonne’s bankers.</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t remember that; it wouldn’t save me,” she
+thought restlessly. “I must think of myself.”</p>
+
+<p>While there was life in her she would make one
+struggle more; once more, perhaps, feel the joy of
+power stir in her and bring a hard man to terms.</p>
+
+<p>Some one knocked at the door. To the reverend
+mother it sounded like the hand of fate that will not
+be denied. It seemed to her racked nerves that it must
+be Erceldonne himself who stood outside, ready to cry
+her shame aloud. It took all her strength to open the
+bolted door, and as it swung back the two nuns who
+waited there stood petrified.</p>
+
+<p>The reverend mother towered over them, clutching
+the door-handle and glaring at them with the eyes of
+a wild beast. At the sight of their startled faces she
+broke into a loud, hysterical laugh that nearly made
+Sister De Sales, the timid, turn and run.</p>
+
+<p>Holding the door-handle, the superior laughed and
+laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m better—quite well!” she cried, that strange laughter
+ending as abruptly as it began. “But Sister De
+Sales is right. I’m not myself. Next week I will go
+to the retreat at the convent in Blackpool for a change.”</p>
+
+<p>The waters of terror were up to her very chin, but
+she would wade through them as she had always done,
+and get back to firm ground.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">HOPELESS AND HELPLESS.</p>
+
+
+<p>“Oh, Salome, he’s—we’re too late!” Andria, a ghostly
+figure enough in her torn white dressing-gown, in which
+she had lain down to take the sleep which had betrayed
+her trust, and with smears of dried blood on her face,
+leaned backward where she knelt. “They’ve killed him.”</p>
+
+<p>“It ain’t de first,” answered Salome grimly, for all
+her panic of the slinking beasts that stood round their
+queer master. She dropped heavily down beside Heriot,
+and would have lifted the torn blanket that covered him,
+but a quiet word stopped her hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Wait!” cried the old man. “It is not good that
+they smell the blood.” He waved his open hand with
+a queer circular motion, and the great cats turned and
+seemed to pour into the narrow passage in a living
+stream of yellow-white fur.</p>
+
+<p>“I have told them to hunt for themselves,” he said
+slowly. “They will not come back till dawn.”</p>
+
+<p>“Praise de Lawd for dat!” grunted Salome devoutly.
+She could put all her mind on the dead man now, and
+she swept off the blanket that covered him only to
+recoil in her turn, for so blood-soaked were his clothes
+that she could not tell where he had been wounded.
+His face was colorless and quiet over the crimson
+clothes that had been white; the woman touched him,
+peered into his face, and cried out:</p>
+
+<p>“He ain’t dead, nor he ain’t dying,” she asserted. She
+undid his bloody shirt. “De ball must o’ glanced up
+on de bone. His ribs is broke from some reason—I
+dunno what, unless dey flung him down here!” She
+turned sharply to the old man who stood silently by.</p>
+
+<p>“Where you find him?” she asked in the bad Spanish
+that had been her mother tongue years ago.</p>
+
+<p>“She sent me out to get him, and I looked and
+looked. I came back and struck a track, wide like that,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span>
+measuring with his misshapen hands, “and blood on the
+bushes. At the top of the gully it stopped, and another
+track began, as if men had run—but light—with empty
+hands. And my cats whined and jumped down here.
+So I found him,” he answered simply. “It was not
+deep where he fell like it is here.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria looked at the high cliff over her head and
+thanked Heaven the man who did this thing had been
+in the hurry that comes of mortal fear.</p>
+
+<p>“You moved him here! How?” she cried, and Salome
+repeated her question.</p>
+
+<p>He took a stone and rolled it over and over. But it
+was lucky for Andria she understood only the pantomime,
+not the words that went with it.</p>
+
+<p>“I put him in the shade. Dead things bring flies in
+the sun, and I wanted him for my cats if she said I
+could have him. I went back to the house and called
+and called to ask her, but she never came.”</p>
+
+<p>“Shut your head!” said Salome furiously, but also,
+with prudence, in English. “We got to take him home,”
+she went on; “he may die there or he mayn’t, but we
+must carry him. No, you ain’t fit; you’d stumble. I’ll
+take de head, and dat ole feller can carry de feet. We’ll
+lift him in de blanket.”</p>
+
+<p>The old man nodded willingly enough when she explained,
+and Andria saw that it was even with alacrity
+that he lifted his end of the burden. She had reason
+to know his strength, yet she marveled at it in so miserable
+a body.</p>
+
+<p>Salome’s stout arms were tense, and her breath came
+hard as she moved steadily along; but the wizened man
+seemed to feel neither weight nor fatigue.</p>
+
+<p>Slowly and carefully the wretched procession reached
+the great white house that stood open in the desolate,
+red light of the sinking sun. Salome had seen wounds
+before, and it was as coolly as a hospital nurse that
+she did her poor best with this one. When she had
+done all she could she drew back and looked at Heriot
+lying on the wide, drawing-room sofa that must do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span>
+duty for a bed, since it was impossible to carry him
+up-stairs.</p>
+
+<p>“Now you can give him de brandy—just a little taste,”
+she said. “It wasn’t no good to bring him to just to
+wrestle wid me and jar dem bones.”</p>
+
+<p>But even the brandy did not rouse him, since there
+was hardly any blood left in him. His eyelids flickered,
+and he swallowed; that was all. Yet Salome regarded
+him with a satisfied nod. He had begun to breathe better
+already. She waddled off to her kitchen to get
+something to eat, and sang hymns while she cooked,
+talking to herself with ludicrous effect between the
+verses.</p>
+
+<p>“Glory, glory in de shining sky!” she sang, and broke
+off between tears and laughter. “He meant to leave
+dem two fur de jaguars to eat alive, and he meant to
+put me in de sea, for I see it in his face. And he’s
+dead and gone and et himself! I’m free! I’m free!”
+and in the midst of her ecstasy she stopped short at
+the thought of the girl who was taken.</p>
+
+<p>“Pray. Miss Ber’l, pray!” she cried loudly, as if the
+girl could hear her. “Pray for de grave, for we can’t
+help you.”</p>
+
+<p>Outside in the darkness of the drawing-room, Andria
+lay in a low chair, too exhausted to think, and felt a
+sudden, humble touch on her arm. The old man fell
+on his knees beside her and began to pour out a torrent
+of whispered Spanish. Half of it she knew to be questions,
+but she could not answer them, and, dazed, she
+shook her head.</p>
+
+<p>With a hoarse cry of hopeless disappointment, the
+poor wretch leaped to his feet, and before she could
+call to Salome, was gone through the open door.</p>
+
+<p>Andria sat up and put her hands to her aching head.
+It might be months before Heriot was himself again,
+and by that time what could they do?</p>
+
+<p>There was a wounded man, herself, a black servant,
+and a madman to cope with Raimond Erle, who was
+already out of reach. With such poor allies and no
+money, how could she hope to reach England in time—or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span>
+ever? With a gesture of sheer despair, she sank
+back again and closed her eyes. The very thing that
+would keep Raimond and Beryl apart she had never
+told the girl. She cursed her cowardice that could not
+speak out, that had solved itself by that photograph in
+a sealed envelope. She knew she had never opened it
+by the very way she had been bewildered, and looked
+from one to the other. It was useless now; she would
+not even look for the thing, that must be lying in Beryl’s
+room somewhere. She never wanted to see it again.
+It was too tangible a reminder of her trust that she
+had not kept from cowardly reluctance to speak her own
+shame.</p>
+
+<p>In the dark, hushed room there sounded the faint
+breathing of the wounded man and a low sobbing that
+came from the very depths of a woman’s broken, desolate
+heart.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">AN OLD PHOTOGRAPH.</p>
+
+
+<p>“It’s no use,” thought Beryl Corselas, “nothing was
+ever any use. They’ve got us, body and soul, again.”</p>
+
+<p>She stared at the sea through the open port-hole, as
+if it would help her to think.</p>
+
+<p>How long had she lain in this hot, close cabin, hearing
+the endless jar of the screw and the wash of stormy
+water on the closed port-hole? And where was Andria?</p>
+
+<p>“She opened the shutters and pulled me away, and
+he called her things. Oh, I can’t remember! But I’m
+on the yacht again. She must be here, too, for unless
+I dreamed it, I saw Amelia Jane in the cabin. I must
+get up and find her. Surely, surely they would never
+leave her behind!”</p>
+
+<p>She sat up, and did not even notice how steady the
+ship was, though it was only that which had revived
+her. Between a slight concussion of the brain and being
+the very worst sailor possible, things had reason
+to be hazy to her. But as she looked about for her
+shoes and stockings the door opened softly and Amelia
+Jane’s face peered in.</p>
+
+<p>“Amelia!” cried Beryl. “Then I wasn’t dreaming.
+You were here! Where’s Miss Holbeach? Tell her I
+want her.”</p>
+
+<p>The woman’s face changed convulsively.</p>
+
+<p>“You knows,” she said rudely; “what’s the good of
+askin’ me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Answer me! Come in and shut the door.”</p>
+
+<p>But it was only the long habit of servitude, and perhaps
+something in the yellow eyes, that made the woman
+obey her.</p>
+
+<p>“Tell me what you mean. Quick!”</p>
+
+<p>Amelia Jane shrank against the door.</p>
+
+<p>“You knows dat poor, sweet lady won’t come to you
+no more,” she said, more civilly.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span></p>
+
+<p>“They left her!” cried Beryl. She cared nothing for
+the servant’s changed manner. “Amelia, they didn’t
+leave her behind?” She flung out her hands as if to
+beg the woman to contradict her.</p>
+
+<p>But Amelia Jane only nodded dumbly. Great tears
+began to pour down her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>“It was dem beasts you called in,” she said. “But
+dere’s no more trouble in dis world for Miss Holbeach.
+She’s gone clean away from trouble. De golden chariot’s
+swung low to fetch her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you mean she’s dead?” Beryl’s eyes were dry,
+her tones perfectly even, but Amelia Jane made haste
+to nod.</p>
+
+<p>“Who killed her?” Beryl said, with a dreadful matter-of-factness,
+her voice very low and steady. But Amelia
+Jane saw nothing strange in the question.</p>
+
+<p>“Dem beasts,” she sobbed. “Dem beasts Salome said
+was haunts. Dey got her and poor old Salome. Dey
+chased master to de edge of de sea; he save you first,
+but he ain’t save de others. Chloe and you and me’s
+here—but——” she dropped her dark hands with a
+gesture of despair.</p>
+
+<p>The girl sprang toward her, a dreadful, tragic figure,
+in her white nightgown, her wild, dusky hair streaming.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Heriot——” she said, between her teeth, and,
+weak as she was, grasped Amelia Jane’s shoulder and
+shook her like a reed; “where was Mr. Heriot?”</p>
+
+<p>“Gone, too; dey all gone.” Amelia was curiously,
+cringingly civil now. “He never got far dat night he
+went away, for dey found him on de hillside. Dat was
+how come dey feared de place and started to take us
+away.”</p>
+
+<p>Beryl Corselas caught her breath hard, so that
+the woman waited for the sharp cry, the torrent of
+tears, that yet she did not expect. And when no cry
+came she trembled.</p>
+
+<p>“Dress me,” came the sharp order. “Tell Mr. Egerton
+I want to see him,” and something in her eyes
+made Amelia Jane hurry as she had never hurried
+before.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span></p>
+
+<p>“You can’t see him here,” she ventured timidly, looking
+at the disordered cabin. “Better come on deck;
+we’s nearly to de land.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bring him here!” and Amelia Jane fled for her life
+at the sudden, dangerous ring in the voice.</p>
+
+<p>But it was not Egerton who presently knocked at
+the door.</p>
+
+<p>“Come in,” said Beryl evenly, and did not start as
+she saw Raimond Erle—only looked him up and down
+with strange eyes.</p>
+
+<p>For a moment he could not think what to say to
+her. There was something terrible in her face, something
+like a beast waiting to spring in the tense lines
+of her body as she stood opposite him.</p>
+
+<p>He stepped across the threshold in silence, and he
+did not close the door behind him, but she seemed not
+to notice.</p>
+
+<p>“Where is Andria?” she said. “Where is Mr. Heriot?
+How is it that you and your father and I are alive when
+they are dead?”</p>
+
+<p>Then Amelia Jane had told her, as she was meant
+to do! It is easier to amplify bad news than to break
+it. He would strike at the hardest part first.</p>
+
+<p>“So you knew he was there!” he said, with a shudder
+that was not all put on. “Beryl, don’t look at me
+like that,” using her name as if he had used it many
+times to himself. “I know what you think—that only
+a selfish coward could have got away from that island
+and left a woman to be killed. But don’t judge me
+yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Answer me!” she said fiercely. “What happened to
+Andria? You were with her last!”</p>
+
+<p>He nodded, but there was no shame on his face. “I
+was with her last,” he said slowly, “but—Heriot was
+with her first.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean?” She drew a step nearer to
+him; another, and she would fly at his eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Listen; be patient. I don’t know how to tell you,
+but if you will have it——”</p>
+
+<p>“Go on.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span></p>
+
+<p>He saw the wild blood in her cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>“It was this,” he answered very low. “That man
+Heriot had been in love with her for a long time—may
+have been married to her for all I know. Anyhow, he
+followed her. I suppose she sent for him. I don’t
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>“How could she send, when we were told the place
+was Bermuda?” Beryl asked scornfully.</p>
+
+<p>“You were told that for your own safety. There
+were others besides Heriot who might have followed
+you,” he answered somberly. “Oh, I’m not defending
+my father! He made mistakes, but he meant well.” He
+dared not lift his eyes to the fierce-light gaze of hers, but
+he kept on steadily: “The man knew she was there; it
+doesn’t matter how. He hid in our house and crept away
+in the night rather than face us.”</p>
+
+<p>The girl deliberately turned her back to him. He
+had his eyes on the ground—anywhere but on her—and
+did not see her pull a flat thing out of her pocket,
+nor notice the rustle of the thin, foreign envelope that
+covered the carte de visite.</p>
+
+<p>“Look at that if you would doubt me!” Andria had
+said. She would look at it now.</p>
+
+<p>But when she saw and read she was struck dumb.
+No wonder Andria had feared to meet him. No wonder
+she had been livid with fury when he saw her. No
+wonder——</p>
+
+<p>She wheeled and faced him, the photograph hidden
+in the folds of her wide silk belt.</p>
+
+<p>“I——” but she stopped the words on her very lips.
+Let him tell all his lies, let him think her a fool! No
+one could know better than he that Heriot was not
+Andria’s lover.</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps he knew you,” she said, with an insolence
+for which he could have struck her, though he did not
+know all she meant.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, he knew me. Knew me,” he answered slowly,
+“enough to know I would not have my father’s roof—or
+you—dishonored. But his fear drove him to his
+death, and hers, too.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span></p>
+
+<p>“When my father came to us that morning on the
+veranda, it was to say he had found a man dead, torn
+to pieces, not ten yards from the house. And that, if
+such things could happen, it was no place for two
+women. But you were too excited to listen. You were
+terrified that you might be taken away from a woman
+who had no right even to speak to you. You fell backward
+down the steps before you could be told of the
+danger, or the strange man who had been killed by
+the jaguars.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know they were jaguars?”</p>
+
+<p>Not a cry had been wrung from her, though her
+soul was sick to think how the madman and the cats
+had betrayed her. How Heriot—she dared not think
+or she would break down in her icy calm.</p>
+
+<p>“We had excellent reason. You fell—my father told
+that woman her lover was dead, and she must come
+with us and you. She laughed. She said she would die
+with him sooner than live with us. She—I took you
+and ran with you to the boat. My father called the
+colored servants and went back for the stubborn woman
+up-stairs. But she tore away from him and ran—ran
+straight to her death. He saw her torn to pieces before
+his eyes, as he saw Salome afterward.</p>
+
+<p>“The other two women had gone on. They will tell
+you how they sat in the boat and saw him but just
+escape with his life. How they heard Salome scream.”
+His face was white and damp as he finished, for what
+he knew was a thousand times worse than the lying
+tale he told.</p>
+
+<p>Beryl looked at him, and the scornful, accusing words
+died on her lips. What did a lie more or less matter
+when Andria and Heriot were dead?</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl,” said Erle softly, “try not to distrust me!
+My father and I are the only friends you have. You
+cannot think either he or I would willingly let such
+things be. Your—the governess”—he watched her face
+now for answering knowledge, for defiance that was
+not there—“was nothing to us but a misguided woman.
+We would have no motive——”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span></p>
+
+<p>“What do you mean to do with me?” she said, as if
+he had not spoken.</p>
+
+<p>“Take you with us; make your life happy, till you
+forget the horrible things you have known. Hate me,”
+he exclaimed with sudden passion, casting the memory
+of his crimes behind him, “if you like, but let me help
+you—keep you—love you——”</p>
+
+<p>Her voice rang in the little cabin.</p>
+
+<p>“You killed her!” she said, and pointed at him.
+“You!”</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">A DREAM OF VENGEANCE.</p>
+
+
+<p>“I never touched a hair of her head,” said the man
+who had merely tied her up to suffocate or be eaten.
+“Beryl believe me! I knew her long ago, when first
+she was Heriot’s—friend.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t believe you.” She was clasping and unclasping
+her hands. “Oh,”—she drew her breath and faced
+him like the little devil he had once called her—“not
+one word you say is the truth. My cats never touched
+her. I—they——” but she could not go on.</p>
+
+<p>He had made one mistake—one glaring blunder—that
+made everything seem the lie. It was when he
+had linked Heriot’s name with Andria’s to a girl who
+had his own damnation in her pocket.</p>
+
+<p>“I will never believe you—never! You may kill me,
+too, if you like,” she added, with a slow malice that
+made him hasten to clinch his lie.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s true. The black woman told you what she saw.
+If I don’t tell you all I saw, it’s because I want to
+spare you.”</p>
+
+<p>But she was not listening. The tireless jar of the
+engines had stopped; the yacht was lying quiet on a
+quiet sea.</p>
+
+<p>“We’re at home in England,” said Erle coolly. “What
+will you do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Accuse you—give you up,” she thought, and said
+nothing. To be silent was the only chance of doing it.
+She wished now that she had held her tongue, as she
+felt in her sash her only proof that he might have had
+a motive, since Andria was his discarded wife. She
+must play her game better than this. If he feared
+her he would never let her go. “Oh,” she said, with
+a pitiful shrinking from the awful task of avenging the
+dead, “tell me, swear to me that all you’ve said is true.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span>
+Then I’ll go away with Amelia and Chloe and never
+trouble you any more.”</p>
+
+<p>“Look!” said Erle, and pointed out the port-hole.
+There in a boat with their bundles were Chloe and
+Amelia Jane.</p>
+
+<p>“You can’t; they won’t take you. All they want is
+to get safe on shore. Let them go, ungrateful beasts!
+Do you know they dared to say you had the evil eye?”</p>
+
+<p>Amelia Jane’s queer manner and terror of her returned
+to Beryl’s memory, all of a piece with her hurry
+to be gone. He was telling the truth now, and her
+face grew white and vacant. The black woman had
+deserted her.</p>
+
+<p>She was too stunned to imagine the truth, that they
+were being hurried off to join an outbound vessel for
+Jamaica; they knew too much to be let stay in England.</p>
+
+<p>Erle was quick to see his advantage.</p>
+
+<p>“Let them go,” he repeated, “I do not want any
+servants who say of you what you say of me—that it
+was through you death came.”</p>
+
+<p>“Through me!”</p>
+
+<p>“They said—oh, it’s ghastly nonsense! But they said
+it was you who could make those jaguars come and
+go as you pleased; that it was you who set them on.
+You see, I am not the only person who is thought—guilty!”</p>
+
+<p>He did not say how, when Amelia Jane had owned
+to seeing Beryl play with jaguar cubs, it had been easy
+to put the rest of the wicked thought in her head, nor
+who had put it there. But the girl in dumb agony saw
+where she stood. She was utterly in his power. He
+might ask her where she meant to go, but it was all
+pretense. She would never get away from him and
+his father.</p>
+
+<p>With a strange quiet she turned from him, but it
+was the silence of danger, not of despair.</p>
+
+<p>“You see,” he said, with the soft voice women had
+loved, “other people might be as hard to you as you
+have been to me, mad as it sounds. Can I never make<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span>
+you understand we are your only real friends? If we
+turn against you——”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” she said, “I hear you. Please go, Mr. Erle.
+I—I can’t talk any more.”</p>
+
+<p>Was the man utterly callous that he did not care that
+his wife was killed, that he could lie about the dead?
+As the door closed behind him she stood rigid, in raging,
+biting desire for vengeance.</p>
+
+<p>“I made a mistake when I taxed him with it,” she
+thought. “But I know it’s true, for I saw him wince.
+Oh, my Andria!” the tears coming at last to her burning
+eyes. “I should have stayed by her, held her tight,
+never let her go. She warned me what he was like.
+Why did I ever listen to him? And what am I, that
+he wants me—that he means to have me, even over a
+grave? Andria—Heriot——” She crushed her hands
+against her mouth that she might not cry out the names
+she loved.</p>
+
+<p>“You died for me,” she whispered, anguish shaking
+her; “because I am what I am; they killed you to get
+me. That man was right. It was I who killed you.
+Oh, who am I, that they drag me with them? That
+they want me? I would give”—she stopped short, her
+strange eyes dilated—“I’ll give my life, Andria; I have
+no more!” she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>Two hours afterward there came a knock at her
+cabin door. To Erle’s astonishment, she opened it quite
+readily and stood quietly before him. It had grown
+dark, and the electric light in the cabin dawned slowly
+and lit up her face that was white as chalk, but absolutely
+indifferent.</p>
+
+<p>“Come,” he said, hiding his surprise, “we are going
+ashore. Let the stewardess pack your things.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have none—not even a hat.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s dark and warm; it doesn’t matter. You shall
+have all you want as soon as you land.”</p>
+
+<p>He could hardly take his eyes from the strange beauty
+of her face. Transcendental, unearthly, she stood in
+the pale electric light as one who sees a vision. The
+quick thought came to him that she meant to drown<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span>
+herself as they landed. But, though he kept at her
+elbow for fear, she never even glanced at the dark
+water round the ship.</p>
+
+<p>Only as Erceldonne spoke to her did her strange
+calm flicker; hatred sprang into her eyes as she turned
+silently away.</p>
+
+<p>In the boat, on the pier, at the station, Erle waited
+breathlessly for her to break away. But she stood like
+a statue, and never asked a question—moved when he
+led her without a sign of dissent. If Mother Felicitas
+had seen her face she would have been ready for some
+outburst, effective as it was unexpected. The two men
+merely thought the shock of what she had heard had
+cowed her.</p>
+
+<p>All that night as she sat in a railway-carriage, one
+thought rang like bells in her head. The man at whose
+door two deaths lay should pay for them. And to do
+it she must go with him, find out who she was and
+why she was desirable. If she tried to run away they
+would catch her; if she went back to the convent she
+could find out no more than if she were in her
+grave. She sat with eyes shut till they thought her
+asleep, and planned and replanned her revenge; that
+she might not remember Brian Heriot and fall to crying
+for the face that she would see no more.</p>
+
+<p>They changed carriages at dawn, where, she did not
+know, nor where they were taking her. She looked for
+hours at the flying country and could not tell, till, as
+the train stopped, great, black letters on a white sign-board
+caught her eye. “Blackpool,” she read in the
+veiled sunshine of the February morning, and remembered
+it was here she had first seen the haggard, listless-eyed
+man who had been her evil genius.</p>
+
+<p>“We change here,” said Erle, rising and not noticing
+her as he leaned out of the carriage window to glance
+at the station, which was fuller than he liked. But he
+was reassured by the look of the crowd, who were excursionists.
+Neither he nor his father saw her glance
+at the lining of the hat they had bought for her when
+they landed. “Pearce, Plymouth,” was stamped on it.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span>
+They had come all the way across England here; they
+must have a reason. Were they taking her back to
+the workhouse at St. Anne’s?</p>
+
+<p>She got out as quietly as if she neither knew nor
+cared, but half-way across the station she gasped and
+stood still.</p>
+
+<p>Opposite her, with her back to her, but unmistakable,
+was Mother Felicitas, Sister De Sales at her side!</p>
+
+<p>They stood, as religious women do, with their eyes
+cast down; they had not seen her.</p>
+
+<p>“Mother Felicitas!” she said, with a horrible fear,
+not for herself, but for the vengeance that would slip
+from her if the superior saw and claimed her. An instinct
+like an animal told her she would get no credence
+of her tale in the convent.</p>
+
+<p>“Go on,” said Erceldonne in her ear furiously. “Go
+on!”</p>
+
+<p>The girl faltered, almost fell, and at Erle’s wondering
+exclamation Mother Felicitas looked up. Her terror
+was before her eyes!</p>
+
+<p>For one instant she stood speechless. Before she
+could move, Beryl Corselas had been hustled into a
+train that was already moving out of the station.</p>
+
+<p>“The reverend mother has overtaxed her strength,”
+said Sister De Sales quickly to a porter. “Water,
+please, and I will get her to a cab.”</p>
+
+<p>She was short-sighted, and had seen nothing. If she
+had, she would merely have marveled that the reverend
+mother should lean heavily against her in sudden faintness
+at the sight of a runaway schoolgirl.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">A LITTLE GOLD.</p>
+
+
+<p>“I couldn’t help it,” said Andria, “they were too quick
+for me. I am slow-witted. I see now it was madness
+to have sent you away, and worse to send that dreadful
+old man after you. He might have saved us.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long have I been laid up?” Heriot, pretty
+white and bloodless, lay propped with pillows on the
+sofa; he was stiff, and his wound was painful, but his
+mind was clear. “How did I get her ring?” for the
+green beryl glowed on his finger.</p>
+
+<p>“Not a week,” replied Andria wretchedly, for by now
+the yacht must have reached England. “I told you
+every two or three times, but it didn’t seem to reach
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>“It all seemed a part of the pain, I thought—‘beryls
+bring bad dreams,’” he quoted. “I wish this was one.”</p>
+
+<p>“The old man must have put the ring on your finger.
+Oh, if he would only go away and not sit outside and
+moan!”</p>
+
+<p>“Why? What is it to him?”</p>
+
+<p>Even then she could not tell him. She turned away.
+“Call the man,” said Heriot sharply.</p>
+
+<p>Andria never looked up as the forlorn wretch shambled
+in and stared at Heriot with lack-luster eyes. What
+would he tell? or, rather, what would Salome make of
+it in her translation?</p>
+
+<p>“She is gone,” he said slowly in Spanish. “This
+time it is forever.”</p>
+
+<p>Andria started.</p>
+
+<p>Heriot understood—was answering him in as good
+Spanish as his own. Salome stood goggle-eyed, straining
+every nerve to comprehend. Only to Andria was it
+an incomprehensible medley of sounds.</p>
+
+<p>“What does he say, Salome? Tell me,” she ordered
+frantically; but Salome only waved her aside and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span>
+groaned aloud. It seemed hours as the words she could
+not understand went on.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a lie, Mr. Heriot!” broke out Salome fiercely.
+“She ain’t look like him; she ain’t be like him——”
+But the words died on her tongue remembered how
+the girl had mastered the jaguar as it ravened at the
+bars.</p>
+
+<p>So the secret was out!</p>
+
+<p>“Salome, hush—wait!” cried Andria frantically. “Mr.
+Heriot, stop him; tell me what he says.”</p>
+
+<p>“He wanders,” said Heriot; his bloodless face was
+ghastly. “He’s mad; he’s—my God, he says she’s his
+daughter!”</p>
+
+<p>“Then it was true.” Andria covered her face. “I
+knew; Egerton told me—let it slip,” she whispered.
+“But it is her mother who must have been his child,
+not she.”</p>
+
+<p>She thought of the strange moods of the girl, her
+miraculous power over animals, of the strain that must
+be hereditary in her young blood.</p>
+
+<p>“This is the story,” said Heriot. His face was set.
+“Erceldonne and another man came here in a yacht.
+The second man never came up to the house, apparently;
+certainly never had anything to do with the girl.”
+(Oh, the pity of that first girl’s silence about the man
+who truly never came to the house, but who met her
+in secret, unknown!) “And Erceldonne came every
+day, and the girl would have nothing to say to him—hated
+him. One day the old man heard her scream—not
+once—many times. He ran down to the shore,
+and was just in time to see Erceldonne put her into
+a boat and shove off with her. He had no boat himself,
+and I think he must have had a fit there in the
+sun. For all he knows after that is that he lost all his
+money in Brazilian bonds; he couldn’t follow her. The
+servants apparently all left him; he used to sit all day
+on the shore with his jaguars—and one day Erceldonne
+came back.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well?” said Andria breathlessly, for Heriot paused.</p>
+
+<p>“He said he never took the girl; that she left the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span>
+yacht that same night with the other man—all lies, of
+course. He landed with men and guns, shot the jaguars—though
+two of them got off into the woods without
+his knowledge—and, of all things—offered to buy the
+house from the miserable father; wanted him to take
+the money and go and look for the girl.”</p>
+
+<p>“De ole man crazy,” Salome burst in, “but cunning—oh,
+cunning! He says yes, he sell de place. He
+creep away into de woods to find his jaguars dat was
+left, and he sit and sit again to watch. One day he
+catch master, sure!”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Erceldonne gave him money—something adequate—but
+the poor soul threw it in that pool. ‘Gold,’ he said,
+‘a little gold to pay for much flesh and blood,’ so he
+threw it away. But he got no chance at Erceldonne,
+for he went off again the next day. God knows why
+he wanted the place!”</p>
+
+<p>“He wanted the crazy man to go on the track of
+the girl and her lover,” Andria cried. “The other man
+must——”</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl,” said Heriot slowly, “is in some way the
+living image of Lord Erceldonne. No! Don’t say it;
+let me finish,” for he knew what was on her tongue.</p>
+
+<p>“There were years after that when no one came to
+the island. Then one day Erceldonne came back, opened
+the house and put in it Salome and a lad of twenty and
+went away. The jaguars tore the boy to bits.”</p>
+
+<p>Salome threw up her arms.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s true,” she cried. “It’s true! I set here and
+hear dem in de broad day. After dat he brung Chloe
+and Amelia Jane, and why, I never knew. He brung
+me because—oh, missus, I had a child! I killed it in
+Jamaica because it had de master’s eyes. He bring me
+here and leave me because—oh!” wildly, “I couldn’t
+help myself. I was young den, and he took me for to
+keep house. I was mad wid de shame, wid de eyes ob
+de white child.” She cowered at Andria’s feet as she
+stood aghast. Was there no end to this man’s crimes?</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span></p>
+
+<p>The next moment she put her hand on the black
+woman. Who was Andria Erle, to judge her?</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Salome! Poor soul!” she whispered.</p>
+
+<p>“He brung me,” sobbed the woman. “He didn’t care
+whether I live or die. He say dey hang me if ever I
+dare leave dis place.”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot said something under his breath. Jamaica
+had been his first abode when he left England; he remembered
+a queer story he had heard there about a
+woman named Salome who wanted to murder her child
+because it was white. She and her lover had fled, leaving
+the dead child where it lay, and afterward——</p>
+
+<p>“Listen, Salome,” he said quickly, “the child was
+asleep, had slept all day. You were frightened and
+shook it——”</p>
+
+<p>“I shook de life out of it; it died,” she said, with a
+hoarse groan. “It died.”</p>
+
+<p>“It didn’t die,” returned Heriot, with a queer laugh.
+“A woman found it and ran with it to the doctor. It
+had been put to sleep with morphia; it’s alive now!
+And so is the chemist that sold the morphia to a white
+man. Your master had excellent reason on his own
+account to retire from Jamaica!</p>
+
+<p>“I saw your boy running round selling papers in Kingston,
+and some man told me his history. Your shaking
+couldn’t have killed a boy like that, Salome, even when
+he was a baby.”</p>
+
+<p>She could only stare at him. Then she broke out into
+incoherent words—into dreadful laughter.</p>
+
+<p>“My soul’s clean!” she screeched, “clean! I’m free;
+I’m free!” laughing still. She rushed out of the house
+and leaped and danced in the blazing sun.</p>
+
+<p>“Let her be,” said Heriot softly. “The man was an
+iniquitous devil, but he’s paid for it.”</p>
+
+<p>“But Beryl——” Andria’s lips were white. Had the
+story of Beryl’s mother put her out of Heriot’s heart?</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t travel for another week,” said Heriot simply,
+and a shame came over her at the matter-of-fact words.
+“Then we’ll take her away from Erle somehow.”</p>
+
+<p>“But—if he’s married her?”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span></p>
+
+<p>“He can’t. Don’t you see, she must be Erceldonne’s
+daughter?”</p>
+
+<p>“He can’t be—his son! That must be what they whispered,”
+she was whispering herself. “Don’t you see that
+solves the whole thing? Her money will set them on
+their feet—oh! the money must be a lie to get Raimond
+to marry her. She can’t have any money—and neither
+have we. How are we to get to England?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s the easiest part,” Heriot added something to
+the old man who stood looking from one to the other,
+with eyes that were frightened but sane enough.</p>
+
+<p>He leaped to his feet at the word and ran out after
+Salome.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s the succession,” Andria cried, harking back to
+her own thoughts. “Raimond will be all right if he
+marries her.”</p>
+
+<p>Heriot moved gingerly on his pillows; his face was
+pale, but his eyes were shining.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m going to marry her myself,” he said quietly. “I
+don’t care if the devil’s her grandfather.”</p>
+
+<p>The old man came running in and poured a stream of
+wet, green coins on Heriot’s bed.</p>
+
+<p>They were Erceldonne’s own sovereigns!</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE BEGINNING OF THE JUDGMENT.</p>
+
+
+<p>Mother Felicitas grew strangely worse at Blackpool.
+She only stayed for a week in the quiet convent, and
+neither rested nor slept till she was back in her own
+place.</p>
+
+<p>But if she had thought to find there a letter from the
+man she dreaded she was mistaken. Three weeks went
+by, and instead of being reassured by his silence she was
+more terrified as each day passed without a letter.</p>
+
+<p>She had known him well enough at the station. Sixteen
+years and more had not changed a line in his face.
+If his son married the girl, her history would have to
+come out—if she were to be a profitable bride. And
+Erceldonne could tell it with such iniquitous cleverness
+that it would not be he who should be involved in crime
+or shame.</p>
+
+<p>Mother Felicitas would have liked to send out messengers
+to ransack all England for Beryl Corselas—she had
+learned easily enough that they had not taken her to
+Erceldonne—since, with the girl in her hands, she could
+once more have dictated terms to the man who had been
+too clever for her. But she had no one to send; would
+not have dared if she had had the cleverest detective in
+England to let him try to get the girl and fail.</p>
+
+<p>And if Erceldonne did not write, the real Mrs. Fuller
+did: She assured the reverend mother, with great gusto,
+that every effort was being made to find the missing girl.</p>
+
+<p>“It is no business of a stranger’s—an outsider’s!”
+Mother Felicitas said, with stony calm that covered fury.
+“Why does this Fuller woman make it hers?”</p>
+
+<p>But even while she asked the question of the bare
+walls of her own convent parlors she knew the answer.</p>
+
+<p>Years ago there had been a hue and cry over the sudden
+death of a woman and the disappearance of her
+child. It was Mrs. Fuller’s friend the detective that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span>
+was so hot upon the trail. To solve a mystery that thirteen
+years ago had been given up by the whole force
+would make his reputation.</p>
+
+<p>The woman who said to herself that she never repented
+was perilously near to repentance now. The dread
+of shame and disgrace distorted her face where she sat
+alone.</p>
+
+<p>“He means that son to marry her—for the Corselas
+millions that are crying for their owners, for the succession
+that can be assured in no other way. And the announcement
+of that marriage under her own name or her
+mother’s will spring the mine under me! And I can’t
+stir a finger. It’s a month since I saw them with her;
+it may be too late now. Every one in England but me
+may know the missing girl is found.”</p>
+
+<p>She could not keep her hands still nor her mouth
+steady. Retribution was coming to her—punishment for
+those long years when her whole life had been a blasphemous
+lie. She had no hope that Erceldonne would
+hold his tongue when the announcement of his son’s
+marriage brought a stern order for an explanation from
+the law of the land; from chancery, too, that had the
+Corselas money in trust. There was one point where
+nothing but the truth would clear Erceldonne himself,
+and there was no hope that he would not tell it.</p>
+
+<p>“If I could stop the marriage!” almost she said it
+aloud.</p>
+
+<p>But she could think of no way that a dying woman
+in a convent could balk the will of Erceldonne.</p>
+
+<p>A sharp clang of the old bell that was just outside the
+parlor door made her start. It was Tuesday—visiting-day.
+She drew herself together to clap her hands for a
+lay sister and say that Sister De Sales must see the
+anxious mothers of pupils—that she herself was too
+weary.</p>
+
+<p>The portress was a new one and not used to her work.
+Before the reverend mother had more than lifted her
+shaking hands a knock came to her door—a stereotyped
+convent knock such as pupils gave—not a visitor’s.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Come in!” cried Mother Felicitas, and straightened
+up in her chair.</p>
+
+<p>She was nearly ruined, and her power would soon be
+a byword; but at least she could still crush a pupil who
+dared to come unsummoned to her private room.</p>
+
+<p>But it was no girl with a grievance who opened the
+door. On the threshold there stood a tall and beautiful
+woman whose eyes were less gentle than her mouth, and
+whose red-brown hair——</p>
+
+<p>“Andria Heathcote!” said Mother Felicitas, who never
+forgot a face.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said the visitor, and involuntarily curtsied, as
+she had never dared to enter that room without doing.
+Yet the next instant she had coolly turned and shut the
+door behind her.</p>
+
+<p>Old pupils often came back to visit the convent; there
+was no reason for the return of this one to be more than
+ordinary, yet the Mother Superior seemed to lack strength
+to hold out her hand. Andria, after the first glance,
+could hardly look at her. She had been handsome once
+in a hard, ascetic way; now her face was but skin drawn
+over bone, and her sunken eyes like fires long burned
+out.</p>
+
+<p>“You are surprised to see me, reverend mother?” she
+began gently. She had never liked Mother Felicitas, but
+that might have been her own fault, and the superior was
+her one hope now.</p>
+
+<p>“I am not well. I see few visitors,” was the slow answer.
+“As you see, there have been many changes even
+here since your day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Poor Mother Benedicta!” said Andria, and could not
+go on. She had no right to stand in this quiet convent
+parlor and play the hypocrite to a woman who might be
+hard and cold, but was, nevertheless, a saint in her way.</p>
+
+<p>“Happy, happy Mother Benedicta,” her successor was
+thinking passionately. “Free among the dead!” But she
+only said slowly.</p>
+
+<p>“Surprised? No; many girls come back. They think
+of us sometimes. I suppose you have married, Andria!”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span>
+with perfunctory interest, wishing the inopportune visitor
+would go.</p>
+
+<p>“Married!” said Andria, who once had thought she
+was Andria Erle. “No!”</p>
+
+<p>The words were almost a cry, and for the first time the
+Mother Superior looked at her.</p>
+
+<p>“Mother Felicitas,” she began, forcing herself to speak
+out under those unfriendly eyes. “I have no right to be
+here, no right to force myself on any one like you—but
+one. I am in great trouble. I have been a wicked
+woman, but—I am in great trouble.”</p>
+
+<p>“And you want to come back!” came the answer
+slowly. Trouble was the only thing that ever brought
+them back—to stay!</p>
+
+<p>“No,” said Andria, looking round her with a shudder;
+she would eat her heart out here. “No! Mother Felicitas,
+I told you I had been wicked—a fool——”</p>
+
+<p>“They are the same,” said Mother Felicitas shortly.</p>
+
+<p>“But I woke up from my dream. I tried to do faithfully
+the work that was put into my hands, and—I
+failed! I have no one to turn to; I am in despair, yet,
+perhaps, there is time to save my trust yet, if you will
+help me. No one else can.” She held her hands clasped
+tight before her, and spoke in a whisper. “Oh! reverend
+mother, who was Beryl Corselas?”</p>
+
+<p>The quiet room heaved like a sea before her hearer’s
+eyes. The black letters under the picture she dreaded
+seemed to spring into life, to speak aloud:</p>
+
+<p>“Death and the Judgment!”</p>
+
+<p>Well, Death was coming, and here, against all canons,
+was the beginning of the Judgment before it! Yet the
+superior managed to answer:</p>
+
+<p>“Is that your trouble?” she said. “It is a very old one,
+and I know no more about it than you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Mother Felicitas, think! Try to remember,”
+with sudden gentleness that was more dangerous than
+the other woman’s passion. “You knew once. Long,
+long ago you told Beryl her mad temper came to her
+honestly—that her mother was the same.”</p>
+
+<p>“I!” The superior was, for an instant, staggered.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span>
+“If I did I was much to blame,” she went on lamely
+enough. “We thought at one time we had a clue to her
+parentage, but it proved a wrong one. When she ran
+away from us we knew it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mother, listen!” said Andria, more gently still.
+“You don’t know what hangs on it. Even now that
+poor child may be trapped into a marriage she hates—may
+be——”</p>
+
+<p>“You know where she is?”</p>
+
+<p>“If I did I would not come to you.” That quick cry
+had made her old distrust wake armed. “But I know
+who has her. When you know, you may perhaps remember—something—that
+may help me to find her.</p>
+
+<p>“I have been a governess since December, and Beryl
+Corselas was my pupil.”</p>
+
+<p>Mother Felicitas leaned back and gripped the table in
+the old way. She could not speak.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">“A BOY!”</p>
+
+
+<p>“Last autumn,” Andria looked straight at the rigid
+figure in the chair, “I was in London, deserted, nearly
+starving. A man who called himself Egerton engaged
+me, without a character, to travel with his ward. And
+the ward was Beryl.</p>
+
+<p>“He said we were to go to Bermuda, but he took us
+to a place the merest child would have known was not
+that. A lonely island with one house, in miles of scrub”—there
+was no change on the superior’s face; could she
+have heard of that island before?—“a house that was
+locked every night like a fortress for fear of a crazy man
+and of wild beasts that hunted to the very door. He left
+us there to die, with no one but three black women to
+protect us. To die, reverend mother, as a boy died whom
+he took there five years before.”</p>
+
+<p>Death—Death and the Judgment! Mother Felicitas’
+face bore no longer the look of a human countenance.</p>
+
+<p>“Five years,” she said. “A boy?”</p>
+
+<p>“He seemed a boy, Salome said, because he was so
+young in his ways, had such merry gray eyes and was so
+gay; but he was twenty. And the jaguars tore him to
+bits, as they were meant to tear us.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no, no!” and if there can be such a thing as a
+whispered shriek it came from the tortured lips of the
+Mother Superior.</p>
+
+<p>“I frighten you? It’s too horrible to hear? It was
+more horrible——”</p>
+
+<p>“The boy!” Mother Felicitas clutched Andria’s arm
+as she had been clutching the table. “The—the poor
+boy! You said he was called——”</p>
+
+<p>She had said nothing, but she did not remember.</p>
+
+<p>“Guy, Salome called him, but I never heard his other
+name.”</p>
+
+<p>“Guy.” All hell had opened under Mother Felicitas,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span>
+but not the hell she had feared. Pain a thousand times
+worse than the disgrace she had dreaded made her groan
+aloud, and then a very recklessness of fury shook her, as
+it might a mother whose only son has been murdered.</p>
+
+<p>“Go on,” she said, and drew her breath through her
+teeth. “Er-Egerton took him there—and he died.”</p>
+
+<p>“He was killed! Then we came and Beryl could master
+the jaguars, could master the madman afterward;
+they never touched us. But we were left for worse than
+jaguars. Egerton came back, and his son, Raimond Erle.
+Egerton—I say—but I mean Lord Erceldonne—and they
+plotted to take Beryl away and marry her to Erle for
+her money and something else. Think, Mother Felicitas!
+Can’t you remember anything? Who was the girl that
+they wanted a waif like her?”</p>
+
+<p>“I—I never knew!” and then in her terror strength
+came back to her. “I tell you,” she cried fiercely, “I
+know nothing. How could I know, who have been dead
+to the world these thirteen years?”</p>
+
+<p>“The year Beryl Corselas was brought here.”</p>
+
+<p>It was said musingly, and yet it carried meaning.</p>
+
+<p>The reverend mother could grow no paler, but her
+eyes were like living coals now instead of dead ones.</p>
+
+<p>“Is that all?” she said. For the moment Beryl Corselas
+was nothing to her. She could only think of the
+boy who had been taken to the uttermost parts of the
+earth to be got rid of, from mere wanton weariness of
+his face.</p>
+
+<p>“No, they took—at least Raimond Erle took—Beryl
+away and left me tied up with cords, towels, anything,
+that I might die like the boy. Lord Erceldonne—oh!”
+she cried, “Mother Felicitas, Lord Erceldonne is dead.
+The jaguars killed him as he meant them to kill us, before
+something made him change his plans and want
+Beryl to go with him and marry his son.”</p>
+
+<p>“Dead! When? Speak, Andria.” But if for an instant
+a fierce hope glowed in her, the next it died.</p>
+
+<p>“Five weeks ago, on the island.”</p>
+
+<p>The Mother Superior dragged herself to her feet.</p>
+
+<p>“Go!” she said, and her voice was strong and resonant.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span>
+“Go. You said well that you were a wicked woman,
+when you dare to come here with lies.”</p>
+
+<p>It was a trap. By a very hair she had escaped it.
+Erceldonne himself must have sent this woman here.</p>
+
+<p>But Andria never stirred. She had been right about
+what the superior knew—for Mother Felicitas was
+afraid!</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve not finished,” she said as she looked straight into
+those awful eyes that seemed to see things that had
+shriveled them to look on. “That madman said Erceldonne
+had taken away his daughter years ago, that Beryl
+was this same daughter come back again. He said——”</p>
+
+<p>“What is it to me?” cried Mother Felicitas. “I know
+none of them. Why do you come to me?”</p>
+
+<p>For a moment a spirit as harsh as her own looked out
+of Andria Heathcote’s eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“You do know,” she retorted, “and you will know
+more unless you help me to stop this marriage and save
+Beryl Corselas. Do you think if Erceldonne had sent me
+I should have let out that story about the boy who was
+killed on the island that you—know of? And he could
+not send me, for he’s dead!”</p>
+
+<p>She turned to go, but a hand colder than death fell on
+hers.</p>
+
+<p>“Wait,” said Mother Felicitas, “wait!”</p>
+
+<p>She tottered to her chair, and signed to Andria Heathcote
+to lock the door.</p>
+
+<p>She was speaking the truth according to her lights,
+and the reverend mother knew it.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE DARK HOUSE.</p>
+
+
+<p>That Beryl Corselas was not at Erceldonne Mother
+Felicitas knew. But that he owned a disused, rat-haunted
+house in Westmoreland even the superior had
+almost forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>And it had been a very simple business to double on
+their own track at Blackpool and get off at a desolate
+little station in Westmoreland.</p>
+
+<p>It was pouring rain. Beryl, hurried into a close carriage,
+had not time to see the whilom convent “boy of all
+work” was the driver. They drove on endlessly it
+seemed to the girl. Through the rain she could see nothing
+but endless, rolling moors. When at last they
+stopped it was pitch-dark. Dazed and weary Beryl got
+out and for the first time trembled.</p>
+
+<p>A dark house, without a lighted window, stood before
+them. Erceldonne was unlocking the door with a key
+from his pocket, and as he swung back the door a close,
+cold air of emptiness and desolation came out on the girl.
+What were they going to do with her? How could she
+avenge Andria here?</p>
+
+<p>She fought down the cowardly thought that at least
+she would have been safe in the convent, and followed
+Erle into the dark hall. The cold air of it breathed like
+death and the grave.</p>
+
+<p>He struck a match and opened the first door he came
+to.</p>
+
+<p>“Why is it like this?” he said to his father angrily.
+“Do you want us to die of cold and discomfort? Where
+is the woman?” But before there was time for an answer
+a door opened, and against a blaze of light that
+made her blink Beryl saw the woman who had taken her
+from the workhouse.</p>
+
+<p>“Mrs. Fuller!” she cried.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” returned the woman slowly, “Mrs. Fuller.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span></p>
+
+<p>She was not given to pity, but for one weak instant
+compassion rose in her. The next she swept it away.
+There was no need to pity the girl. Erle meant to marry
+her. She drew back as Beryl ran to her.</p>
+
+<p>“Your dinner is ready,” she said to Erceldonne.
+“Such as it is.”</p>
+
+<p>Tone and manner were so changed from the Mrs.
+Fuller she had known that Beryl stood astounded. Then
+it came to her with an awful sinking of her heart that
+this woman was in the plot against her, was a part of the
+mystery she loathed and feared. There would be no help
+from her.</p>
+
+<p>She looked around the room into which Erle led her
+gently. There was a huge fire, a mean lamp, a table
+with meat, bread, and wine. Everything else was bare
+and desolate. She was suddenly conscious that this was
+her prison, where she might live and die unless she did
+what they told her. All her fine dreams had come to
+this. For she knew by the tinned food on the table that
+the pale woman with golden hair had put it there, and
+that there was not another soul in the house.</p>
+
+<p>She sat down and could not eat—only looked up with
+a start to see Erle and Mrs. Fuller finish and leave the
+room. She was alone with the man who called himself
+Egerton.</p>
+
+<p>“Listen,” he said coldly, stretching his feet out and
+lighting a cigarette. “My son tells me you say he killed
+your governess and the man you and she saw fit to hide
+in my house. You had better disabuse your mind of
+that; and to help you I will tell you who you are—the
+granddaughter of that crazy old man on the island. You
+may break away from here and tell all you imagine, and
+if you do I will prove you as mad as he.”</p>
+
+<p>He waited for an answer, but she only cowered as if
+he had struck her. Somehow it was no surprise. All
+her life she had been told there was something about her
+that was inhuman, horrible. She knew what it was now—remembered
+with horror how she had soothed the
+madman’s cats with a song she must have inherited the
+trick of.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span></p>
+
+<p>“You see,” he said, “you can do nothing. Your
+friends, as you chose to think them, are dead.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can go back to the convent,” she muttered, for at
+least she could hide her head there.</p>
+
+<p>“You can go nowhere,” he answered coldly. “We did
+our best to take care of you, and you repay us with ingratitude.
+If I were wise I would put you in an asylum
+at once before you had a chance to spread your crazy
+imaginings. But I will give you a chance. See,” he went
+on slowly, “if with solitude and quiet you will perhaps
+come to your right mind. My son——”</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you say he was your nephew?”</p>
+
+<p>This man could only kill her, and at least she would
+strike back at him first.</p>
+
+<p>“Did I?” he returned coolly. “If you think, you will
+find it was Salome who told you that.”</p>
+
+<p>The memory of that morning flashed back on her. It
+had not been Salome who introduced “My nephew, Mr.
+Erle.”</p>
+
+<p>“You see,” he pursued, with a shrug, “you cannot remember
+anything correctly.”</p>
+
+<p>“I remember this much,” and a tide of fury swept over
+her, taking all her terror away. She sprang up and faced
+him, with the resemblance to him more marked than
+ever. “You knew that island wasn’t safe, but something
+made you change your mind about letting me die there.
+The evening you went back to the yacht because you
+were afraid to stay after what happened to Andria, she
+followed you. She heard every word you said to your
+nephew where you stood behind the cypress thicket—and
+Heriot heard, too. You have done nothing but lie to
+me. Even your name isn’t true!”</p>
+
+<p>She shook with passion where she stood over him and
+for once he lost his self-control.</p>
+
+<p>“This knowledge didn’t last long,” he said brutally,
+for he was not afraid of the dead, “nor will yours, if you
+make me angry. Your governess was a treacherous, infamous
+woman, who made use of my house to send for
+her lover.”</p>
+
+<p>“She never sent. He was wrecked there,” she could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span>
+hardly speak for rage. “Oh, you did well to kill him!
+In another day he would have saved us both.”</p>
+
+<p>Erceldonne’s face was livid.</p>
+
+<p>“I have had enough heroics,” he said. “No one has
+murdered any one, as you are crazy enough to think, and
+if you were in your right mind no one would be kinder
+to you than I. As it is, all I mean to do with you is to
+keep you here till you come back to your senses. You’ll
+never get away while you rave like this. I told
+you who your mother was—that lunatic’s daughter, but
+I did not tell you who your father was. You little fool,
+I am your only relation, your only legal guardian!”</p>
+
+<p>“No, no!” she cried, and covered her eyes with her
+hands that at least she might not see his face when he
+said he was her father. Yet if he did it would make
+Erle her brother, unless he were really his nephew!</p>
+
+<p>“You’re quite wrong,” said Erceldonne, with his jarring
+laugh, as he saw that at last he had made her
+flinch. “It was not I who had the doubtful felicity of
+being your parent.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I am——” she faltered; she did not believe his
+denial of her. What could she be, who had madness and
+wickedness for father and mother?</p>
+
+<p>“You’re no one,” he answered shortly, “while you
+cling to your crazy delusions. If you give them up you’ll
+get away from me and be Raimond’s wife. But he
+doesn’t want a crazy one, and you can think that over at
+your leisure.”</p>
+
+<p>An older woman would have realized that whoever she
+was, she must be worth having for them to care nothing
+for her strain of lunacy; or else that there was a lie
+somewhere. Beryl was ignorant of the world.</p>
+
+<p>The old vacancy came into her eyes as she stared at
+the dying coals on the hearth. This house was her
+prison; she would never get away from it except as the
+wife of a man who, instinct told her, was a murderer.
+And she had let them take her past Mother Felicitas,
+trusting in her own strength to bring home crime to men
+like these.</p>
+
+<p>In all the world there was no one to help her; those<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span>
+two she had loved were dead. This was a house the
+world thought empty. No one would come here, or
+hear her if she screamed her life out. She did not even
+know where it stood.</p>
+
+<p>She looked up to see Erceldonne was gone, and Mrs.
+Fuller standing by her.</p>
+
+<p>“You had better go to bed,” the woman said, not unkindly.
+“You are to sleep with me.”</p>
+
+<p>But the girl never answered.</p>
+
+<p>Oh! why had she not died with Andria?</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">DREAMS.</p>
+
+
+<p>As if she were blind and dumb Beryl Corselas followed
+Mrs. Fuller up-stairs to a bedroom as bare as the rest of
+the house.</p>
+
+<p>The woman would have talked to her, but she shrank
+away, conscious that she was a prisoner, and Mrs. Fuller
+one of her jailers. She saw another thing as time went
+on—that day and night changed places in this house.
+There were no blazing fires in the daylight, only smoldering
+coals that made no smoke that tell a tale of habitation.
+And the doors were never unlocked, nor was she
+ever alone to try them.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Fuller and Erceldonne were with her turn about.
+Erle had vanished, and all count of time seemed to have
+vanished, too.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day went by, and Beryl never opened her
+lips. Her sullen silence was as hopeless as her pale face,
+but both got on the nerves of her jailers. If Lord Erceldonne
+had dared, with what good-will he would have put
+an end to them!</p>
+
+<p>Raimond had gone to London, and sent back a letter
+by the round-faced boy that made his father curse at each
+day passed with nothing done. Would he never come
+back? Was he out of his senses that he did not see there
+was no time to lose? Why was he “unexpectedly detained”?</p>
+
+<p>As the third week crawled by Lord Erceldonne lost
+patience. Night after night he paced the gravel, listening
+for the wheels that never came. But when the fourth
+was gone, and the fifth, he dared not listen, for he imagined
+wheels in each gust of wind. And the wind blew
+eerily at nights over the moorland.</p>
+
+<p>“The boy is mad!” he said to himself, aloud, alone in
+that lonely room down-stairs, when the two women were
+gone to bed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span></p>
+
+<p>Behind him some one laughed, or was it outside the
+open window?</p>
+
+<p>Lord Erceldonne forgot patience. He stared round
+the empty room, flung open the thick wooden shutters
+on the gusty spring night, and called aloud:</p>
+
+<p>“Raimond! Raimond! Why the devil don’t you come
+in?”</p>
+
+<p>There was no answer. From far away he heard the
+sound of a moorland brook that his strained ears had
+surely turned into mocking laughter. Yet he drew
+sharply back from the window, and shut it with frenzied
+haste. It was no brook that had whispered in his very
+ear from the darkness under the window.</p>
+
+<p>“Mad, mad!” like an echo.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s the solitude, the cursed waiting.” He wiped his
+forehead. “It’s got on my nerves.”</p>
+
+<p>For the whispers had been labored, un-English, as if
+some one repeated sound, not sense; the voice that of the
+madman on the island. Imagination was making a fool
+of him; the thing was impossible. Yet he dared not go to
+bed, and his thoughts even Mother Felicitas might not
+have envied.</p>
+
+<p>The next afternoon, in broad day, he fairly gasped
+with astonishment, for his long-looked-for son drove up
+to the door. Lord Erceldonne, opening it, could hardly
+contain himself as he saw he was not alone. A quiet
+man, in black clerical clothes, sat in the carriage.</p>
+
+<p>“Where have you been?” said Erceldonne in a whisper
+almost soundless, as his son got out, “Who are you
+bringing here? You’re mad—to dare!”</p>
+
+<p>“Shut up,” returned Raimond, shaking hands as if he
+greeted him. “Open some windows in this musty hole;
+make everything look all right. This is the very man we
+want, and an old friend of mine,” raising his voice,
+“whom I’ve had hard work to find. Father Maurice,”
+turning quickly, “this is my father. And he is afraid
+you will find it rough work staying in a shooting-box like
+this.”</p>
+
+<p>“I have seen worse places,” said the man.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span></p>
+
+<p>As he stood on the door-step Erceldonne saw he was a
+clergyman of the Church of Rome. Might have seen
+also that here was a man impossible to coerce or deceive,
+a strange friend for Raimond Erle; but Lord Erceldonne
+was not the quick-eyed man he had been. Bad dreams
+had wrought on his nerves.</p>
+
+<p>“Raimond’s friends are always welcome,” he said
+stiffly, “but we are indeed roughing it here,” and he
+cursed Raimond silently for having called the place a
+shooting-box when there was not a gun in the house.</p>
+
+<p>And there were no servants! It was enough even to
+make “an old friend” suspicious.</p>
+
+<p>“Why did you bring him?” he said, when the priest
+had been put in his own room for want of another habitable
+one. “And where have you been?”</p>
+
+<p>“Finding out things.” And now that they were alone
+his face was haggard enough. “Do you know there is
+five hundred reward offered for her? Some detective’s
+at the bottom of it, but God knows who is offering the
+money!”</p>
+
+<p>“And you stayed away all this time, knowing that?”
+cried Erceldonne, with uncurbed fury.</p>
+
+<p>“I stayed because I could not help it. I had to get
+some one to trust, and I had to scour all England for
+this man,” little knowing by what chance he had found
+him ready to come.</p>
+
+<p>“Who is he?”</p>
+
+<p>“He had the honor,” said Erle cynically, “of marrying
+me to the first Mrs. Erle!”</p>
+
+<p>Erceldonne cursed him up and down for a fool.</p>
+
+<p>“Then why, of all things, do you want him here?” he
+ended.</p>
+
+<p>“To marry me to the second. Oh, don’t waste your
+breath! I know what you’re going to say, but it will be
+legal enough this time. He had no right to do it before.
+I found out afterward that it was before he had entered
+the church. I can hold that over him if he kicks. But
+he won’t. He’s sorry for me, because my wife died so
+soon. He will tie this knot with true pleasure.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Do you think that sullen vixen up-stairs will have it
+tied without raving to him? For I don’t.”</p>
+
+<p>Erle laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“I think she will,” he said suavely. “You can’t manage
+women with sledge-hammers—unless they love you.
+That’s where you go wrong! Take the priest out of the
+way—anywhere—round the moors, and send Beryl here
+to me. But don’t warn her I’m here.”</p>
+
+<p>Out of doors a mountain mist had fallen, and the damp
+twilight of it made him nervous as he waited. There
+would be no coercing her if the wet drove Father Maurice
+back before the work was done. He went to the
+window, and fancied he saw the black figures of his
+father and the priest dimly visible through the fog; and
+turned impatiently to go to this Vashti who would not
+come. But the door opened before he could reach it, and
+even in the twilight he started at Beryl Corselas’ eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“You!” she said, full of amazement not only at his
+presence, but at the changed look of the room, whose
+windows were unshuttered as she had never seen them.
+But it had been a week and more since she had left her
+bedroom, and they might well have grown careless.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” he said. “I—dear; what have they done to you
+while I was gone? Have they frightened you? You
+look so pale. I should never have left you. My father
+is hasty, unjust! But I’ll take care of you now.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want you to,” she said lifelessly. Her eyes
+were on the window that was open to the fresh air, and
+she went to it, like a prisoner who is strange to the light
+of day.</p>
+
+<p>Erle took no notice; it was too high from the ground
+to be dangerous. He went to the fire, and threw on dry
+wood till the room was light as day. There was no sense
+in mystery or concealment now, since the thing must be
+done and published before a week at farthest. After that
+detectives could root out what they liked.</p>
+
+<p>As he turned his back she leaned from the window,
+and her helplessness stung her afresh as she breathed
+the damp, sweet air. She was high above the ground,
+there was not even grass to break the fall if she dared to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span>
+jump out. There was ivy, but not directly below the
+window; its trails swayed at the sides out of her reach.
+Swayed—she watched it with vague wonder. Why
+should it move in the stirless air? Why did the woody
+stems creak in the twilight at her right hand?</p>
+
+<p>A log Erle laid on the fire slipped, and rolled blazing
+on the hearth. He kicked it back impatiently, with a
+noise that must have startled her in the silent room, for
+she gave a queer, stifled cry.</p>
+
+<p>“Confound the thing!” he said irritably, for the log
+had slipped again. As he wrestled with it he did not notice
+her lean from the window perilously, and stare
+through the twilight at something that was not an ivy
+branch; something that moved, but not with the chill,
+evening air.</p>
+
+<p>A lean hand she knew, a hand no one could mistake
+who had once seen it, was stretched out to her from the
+ivy where something clung like a hat. It pressed a scrap
+of paper into her outstretched fingers; a voice whispered
+in her very ear. But she had no time to hear the low
+words; Erle’s light, delicate step was coming toward her.</p>
+
+<p>Clutching a scrap of paper, she drew back from the
+window just in time.</p>
+
+<p>Erle was at her shoulder. And oh! was she mad as
+they said, to dream she had seen the lunatic she had left
+thousands of miles away? Her heart thumped till she
+was sure Erle must hear it. How could she get rid of
+him long enough to read that paper that seemed to sting
+in her hand?</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the matter?” he said quickly. “Don’t shake
+like that; I’m not going to hurt you.”</p>
+
+<p>He looked over her shoulder out the window, fearful
+the wet would drive back his father and the priest; and
+Beryl’s heart contracted. Had he seen—been nearer
+than she knew?</p>
+
+<p>“I’m cold!” she said sharply, and walked away from
+him to the fire. If he had seen, that paper should burn
+before he got it! But he did not even follow her.</p>
+
+<p>“What has my father done to you?” he said, his worn,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span>
+handsome face haggard in the firelight. “But I needn’t
+ask—I know! I was a fool ever to leave you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why? I did not miss you.” She stood before the
+fire, her hands behind her back, so that her face was in
+shadow, while the light played on his.</p>
+
+<p>“Do listen and try to trust me,” he said slowly, hunting
+for words that would terrify her into submission.
+“You’ve made my father hate you, because of those wild
+things you said of me when you were shocked, frightened,
+not yourself. He’s a strange man, and takes fancies
+that are soon over. His liking for you was one of
+them.”</p>
+
+<p>“He always hated me,” she said calmly.</p>
+
+<p>Erle shrugged his shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>“That is nonsense. But what I am going to say is
+earnest, horribly earnest. My father insists you are not
+in your right mind, that——”</p>
+
+<p>“I am the granddaughter of a madman.” She was
+strangely cold by the fire. “Well?”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s going to put you in an asylum,” replied Erle
+brutally. “He will send you away to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p>Send her away! The house that was her prison
+seemed suddenly the only place she could not leave.</p>
+
+<p>“He can’t—he daren’t!” she cried. “I would tell all I
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>“A story of an island, of jaguars, of madness and sudden
+death,” he continued slowly. “Can’t you see that
+story would make any doctor call you mad? He wants
+to get you out of his way; he would stick at nothing to
+be rid of you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Let me go there!” she muttered.</p>
+
+<p>“Where?” He came toward her, his face changing.
+“Beryl, do you know what I heard in London? Mother
+Felicitas is offering a reward for you! How far would
+you get before she would have you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mother Felicitas!” she recoiled. She had almost forgotten
+her.</p>
+
+<p>“A living grave in a convent, or in an asylum, there
+is not much to choose.” He watched her standing rigid
+with fear. “Don’t look like that!” he cried, as if pity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span>
+had overmastered him. “You sha’n’t go to either. I’ll
+help you; no one shall lay a finger on you.”</p>
+
+<p>“You!”</p>
+
+<p>“I know you hate me,” he said softly, “but I—love
+you! I’ve forgotten all the cruel things you said, you
+had had a shock that was enough to drive you wild.
+And, hate me or not, I mean to take you out of my
+father’s hands.”</p>
+
+<p>“How?” But she knew.</p>
+
+<p>“In the only way I can. Beryl, marry me. Come
+away with me out of this nightmare.” He was not acting
+now, for excellent reasons his very soul was in his
+eyes. “What have I done to you, but tell you the truth
+about a woman who was not fit to be near you? Come
+to me and forget all that. You don’t know what life can
+be. Are you going to throw yours away? If I could
+convince my father you are in your right mind I would
+not tell you all this, but I can’t. All I can do is to make
+you my wife, and then not all the world can harm you.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is your father who wants you to marry me,” she
+broke in scornfully. “Why do you pretend?”</p>
+
+<p>“My father would get me the earth if I fancied it.
+And you may believe me, if he could see you dead rather
+than my wife, it would suit him equally well, take it or
+leave it.” For the first time there was a threat in his
+voice. Where did she get her courage, that she never so
+much as shrank as he leaned over her?</p>
+
+<p>“To-morrow you can go to the asylum, or marry me!
+After to-morrow I won’t try to save you. For all I care
+you can do both!” The words were so easily said, so
+sinister, that nothing but the scrap of paper in her hand
+kept her from crying out.</p>
+
+<p>“Scream if you choose,” he said, seeing her tightened
+lips; “there is no one to hear you. Think, and try, and
+place, you will see there is no one to help you but me.
+Oh, Beryl, is it so hard to trust me! You make me
+brutal, because you make me despair of helping you——”</p>
+
+<p>“Liar! murderer!” she said in his face. For three
+fierce sentences he had dropped his mask, and she knew
+there was no love in him, but only most evil passion.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span></p>
+
+<p>She wrenched away from the hand he stretched out to
+seize her, and ran from the room.</p>
+
+<p>For once her own was empty. Mrs. Fuller was in the
+kitchen making ready a decent meal with furious, incapable
+fingers. Had she been able she would have poisoned
+the man who forced her to be a servant in his
+house. Beryl knelt by the fire, and unrolled the paper,
+all creased from her hot clasp. The next instant she
+threw it in the fire. It was all a trap. That hand she
+thought she knew must have been another’s like enough
+to serve, for the paper held only one sentence, in English,
+that the madman did not know: “Do all they tell
+you.”</p>
+
+<p>Dull, lifelessly, Beryl watched it turn to ashes; saw
+Mrs. Fuller come in and lay a white gown on the bed.
+And Mrs. Fuller was crying, “Beryl,” and she threw her
+arms around the motionless girl, “marry him. Give in.
+Don’t you see?” she pointed to the bed, “it’s a wedding-dress,”
+she sobbed, for she was frightened for herself
+now.</p>
+
+<p>“It will do very well,” said Beryl Corselas, with stiff
+lips, “for a shroud.”</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">TAKEN UNAWARES.</p>
+
+
+<p>“You have a chapel?” asked Father Maurice.</p>
+
+<p>He was an abstemious man; his vile dinner had not
+troubled him. Indeed, if he had not been afraid to risk
+weakness, he would not have eaten a crust in this house.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes.”</p>
+
+<p>The late owners of the place had been Catholics.</p>
+
+<p>“But it is disused; in sad repair.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is the only place for a marriage,” said the priest,
+and Raimond smiled, remembering the inn parlor in
+which this very man had married him to Andria Heathcote.
+“If you will allow me and provide me with some
+candles, I will go and prepare it early in the morning.
+You wished to have the wedding at seven?”</p>
+
+<p>He looked at Raimond.</p>
+
+<p>“At six. I should have liked you to have seen the
+bride to-night, but——” he laughed, “well, she was shy!
+I could not induce her to come down.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, yes,” said the priest hastily, and rose, that they
+might not see his face. “I will go to my room if you
+will excuse me. I am tired, and must rise early.”</p>
+
+<p>“Your friend may be trustworthy, but he’s damnably
+unpleasant,” said Erceldonne, as soon as the priest’s back
+was turned.</p>
+
+<p>“It won’t matter what he is to-morrow morning after
+the register is signed.”</p>
+
+<p>But even Erle was not easy about the task before him.</p>
+
+<p>“Call Mrs. Fuller, will you? I want to talk to her.”</p>
+
+<p>The low hum of their voices reached Father Maurice,
+where he paced up and down his room. Regardless of
+the damp outside, he opened his window and leaned out,
+and if there had been any one to see his face, something
+in it might have made them marvel. It was not the face
+of a fool, or of a friend of Raimond Erle’s.</p>
+
+<p>Then he did a strange thing for a priest and a guest.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span>
+He took off his shoes, and left the room without a sound.
+He was gone perhaps ten minutes, and when he came
+back there were only two voices in that murmur from the
+room below. Mrs. Fuller’s was missing. He went to the
+window again and scanned the misty darkness, as if he
+expected some one, but nothing stirred.</p>
+
+<p>“At dawn,” he thought. “I pray I have not acted unwisely.
+There are many hours till dawn,” and he sat
+listening and watching, long after the house was silent.</p>
+
+<p>His task was abhorrent to him; he loathed this semblance
+of doing evil that good might come, yet he saw
+no way out of it. When the night changed to dawn, he
+went his way to a deserted chapel that stood in the
+grounds.</p>
+
+<p>It was open, and he lit candles on the desolate altar.
+He was strangely pale after his night’s vigil, and he
+watched the growing light with grudging eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah!” he said suddenly. He turned away into the
+moldy vestry and knelt down to pray. When he came
+out into the empty chapel a beam of sunlight struggled
+through the dusty glory of the stained windows, and
+shone like an auriole round him as he stood in his vestments.
+But to Erceldonne, who entered at that moment,
+it looked as if the priest were bathed in blood.</p>
+
+<p>Without speaking, he motioned to some one behind
+him.</p>
+
+<p>Raimond Erle took a girl’s passive hand and laid it on
+his father’s arm; and passed on to the right hand of the
+altar.</p>
+
+<p>Step by step, Erceldonne advanced with a terror at his
+heart for which he had no reason, since the license was
+right, by what means his son best knew.</p>
+
+<p>The bride, all in white, with a thick lace veil over her
+dusky hair and pale face, never looked up as she leaned
+on his arm; made no sign of surprise or dissent as she
+saw the waiting priest.</p>
+
+<p>Father Maurice, book in hand, never moved as they
+approached him, but as they sank on their knees he
+raised his hand, and his voice thrilled through the cold<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span>
+chapel. But not in the familiar Latin Erceldonne, who
+had been a Catholic when he was anything, expected.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Behold, I will repay, saith the Lord,’” the strong,
+clear words rang out over the kneeling wedding-party.
+“‘I have laid a snare for thee, O Babylon; and thou art
+also taken, for thou wast not aware.’”</p>
+
+<p>“The Presbyterian will come out!” thought Erle,
+mindful of the priest’s history, and never stirred a finger
+at the magnificent cry of denunciation.</p>
+
+<p>But Lord Erceldonne knew better.</p>
+
+<p>He had seen the priest’s finger that pointed to something
+behind him; had turned his head, sprung up, and
+stood turned to stone.</p>
+
+<p>The chapel was empty no longer.</p>
+
+<p>Between him and the sunlight outside the open door,
+between him and the desire of his eyes, stood two that
+were risen from the dead. Behind them, strange men in
+plain clothes. To Erceldonne the place seemed swarming.
+He could not draw his breath, and he shook from him
+the terrified woman’s hand that clutched his arm.</p>
+
+<p>The strange pause made the bridegroom turn. But
+even he could not speak.</p>
+
+<p>Andria—Andria stood there, with her eyes on his.
+And Heriot held her hand! Heriot, that was dead in
+Flores!</p>
+
+<p>Father Maurice stepped to Erle’s side, and touched
+him lightly on the shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>“Be glad,” he said, “that you have not had time to
+take another sin upon you! There stands your wife,
+whom you deserted and left to die. Go to her, ask her
+pardon on your knees. You told her I was no priest;
+that I had no right to marry you. I was a minister in
+the Church of Scotland, and you know it. You were married
+as hard and fast as I could marry you to-day, when
+I am an unworthy servant of the Catholic church.”</p>
+
+<p>But Erle never answered. He stood as if he did not
+feel that hard, light hand on his shoulder, and stared at
+the woman who was, after all, his wife.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a lie!” cried Erceldonne fiercely. He caught his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span>
+son’s nerveless hand. “Raimond, it’s a plot! The
+priest’s in some one’s pay!”</p>
+
+<p>“The priest,” said Father Maurice, “is in the service
+of God. Lord Erceldonne, I am the chaplain of St.
+Mary’s Convent. It was Mother Felicitas who sent me
+to find your son, and save an innocent girl.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mother Felicitas!” But his jarring laugh stopped
+unfinished. There was something in the priest’s face,
+something in the absolute silence of the strange man at
+the door, that killed his laughter in his throat.</p>
+
+<p>“Your Mother Felicitas is a—a—you fool, she was my
+mistress! She——”</p>
+
+<p>“She is dead,” said Father Maurice, with a voice that
+rang. “Her sins lie buried with her. Her confession is
+in my hands, her repentance in the hands of God, her
+temptations—are put down to the account of a man
+whose crimes cry aloud. Long ago, Lord Erceldonne,
+it seems to you, you tried to take from an old man by
+violence his adopted daughter. Adopted, not his own, as
+you well knew. Your elder brother saw you, saved her
+in one of your own yacht’s boats, and married her.
+When your elder brother died, leaving a wife and a young
+child, who was it sent a woman to them? A woman,
+who thought herself your wife, who loved you till she
+forgot God in heaven; a desperate, miserable woman,
+who saw nothing but that her son and yours was disinherited
+if that little girl lived. Who gave her the morphin
+that killed Lady Erceldonne? Who asked no
+questions when the child disappeared and was never
+found? Who, when a most unhappy woman came to
+him with all her sins on her head, laughed and told her
+she was no wife of his—that she and her son were nameless?</p>
+
+<p>“She had done your work. You had no more need of
+her. But, to keep her lips shut, you promised to care for
+her boy, to bring him up away from you, but happily, as
+long as she was silent. And silent she was—till she
+learned how you kept your promise. How you wearied
+of supporting the lad, and sent him to the other side of
+the world to be killed.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span></p>
+
+<p>“You had no thought, Lord Erceldonne, that such a
+sinner would confess; that the girl you kidnaped and
+meant to let die would be your ruin, as soon as you
+found out that if she lived her mother’s money would set
+you on your feet. You said she was a madman’s daughter,
+and you knew all the time she was of the best blood
+in Spain. A child who was a born dompteuse, an animal-tamer,
+who had run away to a circus, whose owner
+retired and took her and his animals to his home in the
+Azores. Her brother died a year ago; since then, you
+know best how every part of the world has been ransacked
+for the daughter of the lost sister, to whom he
+left his fortune. Beryl, she was christened, for a ring
+her mother had always worn till she left the circus;
+Corselas, because the murdered Lady Erceldonne always
+hoped to take the child to Spain and find her relatives.
+It was under that name, which seemed a fancy one, that
+she was left at the convent. That name, which has led
+to the unraveling of all. The church’s arm is long, Lord
+Erceldonne, for you. For that most miserable woman,
+Mother Felicitas, her mercy is infinite.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have no proofs! It is a conspiracy, a lie!” said
+Erceldonne, but his lips were white.</p>
+
+<p>“This is not a court of justice, nor am I your judge,”
+returned Father Maurice icily. He beckoned to the men
+at the door, but some one was nearer, quicker than they.</p>
+
+<p>From an empty vestry there ran a strange figure, bent
+almost double, that screamed in Spanish as it ran.</p>
+
+<p>“Liar! You said you knew nothing of her? You
+swore you had no brother. You took the light from my
+eyes with your story of a stranger, and her shame.”</p>
+
+<p>Before any one could reach him, the jabbering thing
+had sprung at Erceldonne’s back, and stabbed him with
+that very dagger that had lain so long idle in his own
+house.</p>
+
+<p>A shriek ran through the chapel, but it was not Lord
+Erceldonne’s; he lay quiet on the stone floor, face down.</p>
+
+<p>It was Salome, whom he had wronged, whose life had
+been hell through him; and the shriek was savage, exultant.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Be silent,” said Andria fiercely.</p>
+
+<p>As she spoke, the madman flew by her, running and
+leaping like a monkey, two of the strange men at his
+heels.</p>
+
+<p>What was the matter with Beryl, that she neither
+spoke nor came to her; that she never looked up as
+Heriot laid a hand on her shoulder? Had they drugged
+her—was she——</p>
+
+<p>Andria Erle ran to the strange figure that was hidden
+under the lace veil.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl!” she cried, “it’s I, Andria! You’re safe!”</p>
+
+<p>She put the veil back from the face and stared aghast.</p>
+
+<p>A strange woman stood before her, painted, hollow-eyed;
+her head covered with long locks cut from Beryl’s
+hair, wound deftly round it.</p>
+
+<p>“Father! Father Maurice!” cried Andria, in the one
+breathless instant before the priest could speak and tell
+her this strange bride was part of his last night’s work.
+She turned and ran from the church like an arrow from
+the bow after some one else who had also stared unbelievingly
+at the false bride.</p>
+
+<p>All she thought was that this was not Beryl, and that
+Raimond had had a minute’s start of her in the confusion,
+when all eyes were on the escaping madman and
+the dead man on the floor.</p>
+
+<p>Across the wet grass, in the light of the wet morning
+sun, she ran, into the desolate house. Up-stairs, through
+endless passages, sobbing, stumbling, calling, she went
+in wild fear.</p>
+
+<p>And each door she opened showed an empty room,
+each passage led to nothing.</p>
+
+<p>“Beryl!” she screamed. “Beryl!” and from somewhere
+heard a sound.</p>
+
+<p>She was here, then. And she had read Raimond’s face
+aright.</p>
+
+<p>“Heriot! Father Maurice!” Andria shrieked from a
+stair-window, and dared not wait for their coming. She
+ran on blindly, and burst into the room that was Beryl’s
+and Mrs. Fuller’s.</p>
+
+<p>There, having waited irresolute a little too long, instead<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span>
+of running to the carriage Father Maurice had told
+her would be waiting by the chapel, was Beryl Corselas
+struggling hideously with a man, who had also a carriage
+waiting with a bullet-headed boy for driver.</p>
+
+<p>“Raimond!” Andria cried. “Run—they are coming!
+Let her go.”</p>
+
+<p>At her voice he let Beryl go; stood an instant, staring.</p>
+
+<p>“Go!” said Andria, in a dreadful whisper. “Go!
+Thank God that I am your wife, and must hold my
+tongue. It is my shame that I ever loved you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Andria,” said her husband softly, very easily. “The
+Lovely Andria!”</p>
+
+<p>He came toward her, with the long, easy step she had
+loved.</p>
+
+<p>“Devil!” he cried, and struck her between the eyes.</p>
+
+<p>But there was no force in the blow. A girl’s whole
+weight had caught him back from behind. He shook it
+off, and ran down a back stair. Lord Erceldonne’s son
+had nothing to stay for.</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span></p>
+
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL.</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">THE EXPIATION OF MOTHER FELICITAS.</p>
+
+
+<p>“Andria!” said Beryl wildly, unbelievingly.</p>
+
+<p>“Andria, they told me you were dead.”</p>
+
+<p>She had never spoken when the woman she thought
+dead had run in; pale, breathlessly, but Andria herself
+and no ghost. She had only gazed dumfounded; then
+leaped with the instinct of an animal, and caught Erle’s
+arm as he would have paid his debt to his wife in full.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! how did you get here?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll tell you in a minute.”</p>
+
+<p>Erle’s fist had only grazed her, yet she was leaning
+helplessly against the wall. She hated him, despised
+him, and yet—he had struck her; and if he had held out
+a finger instead she would have gone to the ends of the
+earth with him still. He was gone out of her sight forever.
+What ailed her that she could not be glad?</p>
+
+<p>“Didn’t know I was coming?” she forced herself to
+speak. “Didn’t Father Maurice tell you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing but that Mrs. Fuller was to take my place
+and I was to run to the carriage. We spoke to her out
+in the hall, and she was like a child. She did everything
+he said. She hated Erceldonne, but she was afraid of
+him. She had owed him money she could not pay; he
+had her note and could have taken everything she had.
+Father Maurice told her I would pay everything she
+owed if she helped me. It was she who thought of cutting
+off my hair for a wig. Oh, never mind all that!
+Tell me what has happened?”</p>
+
+<p>She dared not ask for Heriot, lest only one, not two,
+might have come back alive from Flores.</p>
+
+<p>“Look!” said Andria gently. “Salome and the poor
+old man saved us.”</p>
+
+<p>Her heart contracted as she thought of the lunatic running
+over the moors for his life. He had seemed sane
+enough till now; had begged them with tears to take him<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span>
+to England to see the dearest of his soul again. Had been
+times messenger to Beryl before they dared come themselves,
+and now would finish his life in an asylum, away
+from the animals that he loved.</p>
+
+<p>But Beryl thought of only one thing, one person.
+Here in the doorway, behind the priest, stood Brian
+Heriot, alive. He stretched out his hands, and she ran
+to him. At the sight the woman whom love would know
+no more turned away.</p>
+
+<p>“Father Maurice,” she said, “let us get away from this
+dreadful place.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wait,” the priest whispered, “they are bringing him
+in. It is better for her not to see.”</p>
+
+<p>“Him!” she stammered, thinking of the man who had
+run from the house.</p>
+
+<p>“Lord Erceldonne.”</p>
+
+<p>He laid a hand on her arm.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Erle has gone,” he said quietly, knowing she
+would never speak that name again. “I must stay and
+arrange matters for the funeral.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I don’t really understand yet,” Beryl cried out
+still in the embrace of Heriot. “You were shot and——”</p>
+
+<p>“The poor old crazy man you sent saved me. Salome
+nursed me back to life again.”</p>
+
+<p>“The old man!” she cried, with a cry that stopped
+Father Maurice and Andria in their low talk. Beryl
+dragged her hand from Heriot’s.</p>
+
+<p>“Let me go,” she said, “don’t touch me! I am his
+granddaughter. It was no wonder I could manage the
+cats. I am like him, I——”</p>
+
+<p>“You are no relation to him,” said Father Maurice
+quietly. “Your mother was his adopted daughter; but
+he had gone too crazy to remember it. She ran away
+from him and married Lord Erceldonne’s elder brother.
+You are their daughter.”</p>
+
+<p>“My mother?” she said, in a thick whisper.</p>
+
+<p>“Died long ago,” he would not tell her how yet, “and
+you were stolen and hidden away in the convent. Only
+Mother Felicitas knew you were the heiress of Erceldonne.
+The Lord Erceldonne you knew had never any<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span>
+right to the title, which is one of the few that descend
+in direct line to male or female heirs. You would have
+been left to die on that island, but for a fortune left you
+by your mother’s brother. The papers were full of advertisements
+for you; so, you see, you were suddenly
+worth more alive than dead. A marriage with you
+would not only secure the succession to Raimond Erle,
+but set him and his father on their feet as to money.
+You would not have been told of your parentage till you
+were married. A penniless waif might accept without
+question a husband whom a viscountess in her own right
+would refuse.”</p>
+
+<p>“But Andria! He couldn’t have married me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not if she lived. But he thought her dead. It was
+she, under Heaven, who saved you. Raimond Erle was
+married to her by me, at that time a minister in the
+Presbyterian church, who had given up my charge because
+I could not preach those things I no longer believed.
+When he heard, afterward, that I had become a
+priest of the Catholic church, he made use of it to tell
+her she was not, nor never had been, his wife.</p>
+
+<p>“Wife or no wife, she was a menace to him; he left
+her to die. The black servant saved her; the madman
+gave money to her and Mr. Heriot which brought them
+to England; to Mother Felicitas, to me, who had performed
+the ceremony Erle dared call null and void.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mother Felicitas!” she cried. “Do you mean I must
+go back to her? I won’t! I’ll——”</p>
+
+<p>“Mother Felicitas is dead,” the priest said gravely.
+“But you are wrong to hate her. She was your friend—in
+the end. It was she who, when Erceldonne was found
+tenantless, thought of this Moorland house. She, who,
+on hearing Mrs. Erle’s story, sent for me, the chaplain of
+the convent, the only person in all England, by God’s
+grace, who knew of her marriage. I went to London
+and discovered Mr. Erle as if by accident; I seemed to
+believe all he told me. And when I came to this evil
+house, his wife, Heriot, and the police were at my heels.
+But I had no time to tell you.”</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span></p>
+
+<p>“But Mother Felicitas,” she said incredulously. “She
+hates me!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” he answered slowly, “she hated you, but not as
+you thought. She was a great sinner, but she died like
+a martyr. She repented.”</p>
+
+<p>Even now he remembered with how great a courage.
+There had been no half-measures in her atonement; no
+shielding of herself, or of that reputation that had been
+dearer than life.</p>
+
+<p>He had been as stunned as the nuns when, after a
+service for the dead for which she asked him, the Mother
+Superior had risen in her stall in the chapel and faced
+them all—every nun in the convent and himself.</p>
+
+<p>She was the color of ashes, even to her lips; and she
+swayed as she stood.</p>
+
+<p>She began very quietly; she asked their prayers, their
+patience.</p>
+
+<p>When her long story was done, each nun was on her
+knees. Was the reverent mother raving, that she should
+call herself a murderess, a hypocrite, a blasphemer?
+That she gave chapter and verse of her sins, her great
+humiliation?</p>
+
+<p>She stood in the silence that was full of hushed weeping,
+and beckoned to the convent chaplain, then led the
+way to the confessional.</p>
+
+<p>In agony she wrote a deposition, in agony she gave
+those directions that had saved Beryl Corselas, and fell
+on her knees.</p>
+
+<p>“You will excommunicate me!” she said.</p>
+
+<p>Father Maurice had raised his hands, and spoken.
+And as he finished a great cry rang out to the listening
+nuns.</p>
+
+<p>He had absolved her, as One Higher than he had forgiven
+the dying thief on the cross. But when he would
+have raised her from her knees, she was dead.</p>
+
+<p>He roused himself now, and looked for a long moment
+at Beryl Corselas.</p>
+
+<p>“Pray,” he said gently, “that you may make as good
+an ending.” Then he went away, to begin his watch by
+the dead.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span></p>
+
+<p>“Come,” said Heriot softly. “Let us go.”</p>
+
+<p>And, with Andria’s hand in hers, Beryl Corselas, who
+was Beryl Corselas no longer, left that house of crime.</p>
+
+<p>There is little more to tell.</p>
+
+<p>The madman who had paid his lifelong debt to Lord
+Erceldonne was never found. If he perished miserably
+on the wild moorlands, his misshapen bones were never
+discovered; if with the cunning of madness, he made his
+way back to the Azores, there was no one who suggested
+it to the police, though perhaps Andria Erle might
+have been able to, had she wished.</p>
+
+<p>Raimond Erle, rather than face bankruptcy and disinheritance,
+slipped away to Mexico; and there he died in a
+gambling-brawl.</p>
+
+<p>In his stead there reigned Beryl, Viscountess Erceldonne,
+whose husband was the Honorable Brian Heriot,
+next heir to the baronage of Heriot, for his brother never
+married. He was true to his word; he never touched a
+penny of her vast fortune. She spent it nearly all in
+helping the outcast and wretched.</p>
+
+<p>The sham Mrs. Fuller was a white slave no more.
+She lived at peace with the husband she loved—the man
+whom Lord Erceldonne had sworn to ruin, and thus had
+maintained an overmastering influence over her.</p>
+
+<p>Ebenezer Davids lighted lamps no more. He and his
+wife left the lodge at the great gate of Erceldonne, and
+he prided himself greatly that it was he who first discovered
+his present mistress was “the spit and image of his
+lordship.”</p>
+
+<p>And the whole truth about Mother Felicitas Lady
+Erceldonne never knew. There is no loyalty like that of
+religious women. Not a nun in the convent ever opened
+her lips, not one but was helped on the narrow path by
+the memory of the expiation of Mother Felicitas.</p>
+
+<p>Salome, faithful still, worshiped Beryl’s child, which
+was named Andria.</p>
+
+<p>And Andria?</p>
+
+<p>At twenty-four no one can say their life is done.</p>
+
+<p>Andria Erle took up hers and was living it, not a pensioner
+on Beryl’s bounty, nor a nun in a convent.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</span></p>
+
+<p>On the boards of the Queen’s Theater she became an
+actress whom princes were glad to applaud, whom great
+ladies visit. Men laid titles and fortunes at her feet,
+but she remained Andria Erle; beautiful, gentle, and a
+little unapproachable!</p>
+
+<p>Time, instead of adding lines to her face, had
+smoothed the hardness and bitterness from it.</p>
+
+<p>But to no one had she ever spoken of Raimond Erle.</p>
+
+
+<p class="center">THE END.</p>
+
+
+<p>No. 1119 of <span class="smcap">The New Eagle Series</span>, entitled “In
+Love’s Paradise,” by Charlotte M. Stanley, is bright and
+entertaining from the first line and will keep the reader
+engrossed until the last chapter is read.</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="15c">15c</h2>
+</div>
+
+<p class="center">is the right price—the fair price under
+present conditions.</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p class="center">Therefore, the</p>
+
+<p class="center large"><b>S. &amp; S. Novels</b></p>
+
+<p class="center">sell at fifteen cents, no more, no less.</p>
+
+<p class="center">We have an established reputation
+for fair dealing acquired during sixty
+years of active publishing.</p>
+
+<p class="center">The reduction in the price of our
+novels means that we are living up to
+our reputation.</p>
+
+<hr>
+
+<p class="center">
+STREET &amp; SMITH CORPORATION<br>
+79 Seventh Avenue &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; New York City<br>
+</p>
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+
+<div class="chapter">
+<hr>
+<p class="center">
+<i>Adventure Stories</i><br>
+<i>Detective Stories</i><br>
+<i>Western Stories</i><br>
+<i>Love Stories</i><br>
+<i>Sea Stories</i><br>
+</p>
+</div>
+<hr>
+
+<p class="center">All classes of fiction are to be found among
+the Street &amp; Smith novels. Our line contains
+reading matter for every one, irrespective of age
+or preference.</p>
+
+<p class="center">The person who has only a moderate sum
+to spend on reading matter will find this line
+a veritable gold mine.</p>
+
+<hr class="r5">
+
+<p class="center">
+STREET &amp; SMITH CORPORATION,<br>
+79 Seventh Avenue,<br>
+New York, N. Y.<br>
+</p>
+
+
+<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop">
+
+<div class="transnote">
+<div class="chapter">
+<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes</h2>
+</div>
+
+
+<p>Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.</p>
+
+<p>Table of contents has been added and placed into the public domain by
+the transcriber.</p>
+
+<p>The line: “‘Miss Holbeach; thank you!’ He just glanced at” was missing
+from the book due to a typesetting error; the lost text was restored
+from the original serial appearance in <i>Street &amp; Smith’s New York
+Weekly</i>, v. 54, no. 50 (September 30, 1899), page 1.
+</p>
+
+<p>On page 214, the line “the words died on her tongue remembered how the
+girl had mastered the jaguar” appears to be missing words. The original
+serial installment for this chapter could not be located, and this is
+reproduced here as printed in the book version.</p>
+
+</div>
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75930 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
+
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author	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-04-21 10:21:36 -0700
committer	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-04-21 10:21:36 -0700
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