Part 19 (1/2)
”Maria,” he began, but he only p.r.o.nounced her name, and stopped short, for a great fear took him by the throat.
”Yes,” she answered, in her calm, low voice. ”I have made up my mind. I will not go. G.o.d will perhaps forgive me what I have done. I will pray for forgiveness. But I will not do more evil. I will not bring shame upon my father's house, even for love of you.”
Her voice trembled a little at the last words. Even veiled as she was, the vital magnetism of the man was creeping upon her already. She had resolved that she would see him once more, that she would tell him the plain truth that was right, that she would bid him farewell, and promise to pray for him, as she must pray for herself. But she had sworn to herself that she would not speak of love. Yet with the first words she spoke, the word and the vibration of love had come too. Her hands disappeared in her sleeves, and her nails pressed the flesh in the determination to be strong. She little guessed the tremendous argument he had in store.
”It is hard to speak here,” he said. ”Let us go into the parlour.”
She shook her head, and again moved backwards a step, so that her shoulders were almost against the door.
”You must say what you have to say here,” she answered after a moment's pause, and she felt strong again. ”For my part, I have spoken. May G.o.d forget me in my utmost need if I go with you.”
Dalrymple seemed little moved by the solemn invocation. It meant little enough to him.
”I must tell you a short story,” he replied quietly. ”Unless I tell you, you cannot understand. I have set my life upon your love, and I have gone so far that I cannot save my life except by you--my life and my honour. Will you listen to me?”
She nodded, and he heard her draw a quick breath. Then he began his story, putting it together clearly, from the facts he knew, in very few words. He told her how Annetta must have mistaken the bottle on his table for camphor, and how he had found her dead. Nothing would save him from the accusation of having murdered the girl but the absolute disappearance of her body. Maria shuddered and turned her head quickly when he told her that the body was lying under the postern arch behind the garden wall. He told her, too, that the boy was by this time asleep beside the mule on the path beyond. Then he told her of his plan, which was short, desperate, and masterly.
”You must tell no one that the abbess is dead,” he said. ”Go out through your cell into the garden, as soon as I am gone, and when I tap at the postern open the door. Leave a lamp in your cell. I will do the rest.”
”What will you do?” asked Maria, in a low and wondering tone.
”You must lock the door of your cell on the inside and leave the lamp there,” said Dalrymple. ”You will wait for me in the garden by the gate.
I will carry the poor girl's body in and lay it in your bed. Then I will set fire to the bed itself. Of course there is an under-mattress of maize leaves--there always is. I will leave the lamp standing on the floor by the bedside. I will shut the door and come out to you, and I can manage to slip the bolt of the garden gate from the outside by propping up the spring from within. You shall see.”
”It is horrible!” gasped Maria. ”And I do not see--”
”It is simple, and nothing else can save my life. Your cell is of course a mere stone vault, and the fire cannot spread. The sisters are asleep, except the portress, who will be far away. Long before they break down your door, the body will be charred by the fire beyond all recognition.
They will see the lamp standing close by, and will suppose that you lay down to rest, leaving the lamp close to you--too close; that the abbess died while you were asleep, and that you had caught fire before you waked; that you were burned to death, in fact. The body will be buried as yours, and you will be legally dead. Consequently there will not be the slightest suspicion upon your good name. As for me, it will be supposed that I have procured other clothes for Annetta, thrown hers into the laboratory and carried her off. In due time I will send her father a large sum of money without comment. If you refuse, I must either be arrested, convicted, and sentenced to death for the murder of a girl who killed herself without my knowledge, or, as is probable, I shall go out now, sit down in a quiet place, and be found dead in the morning. It is certain death to me in either case. It would be absolutely impossible for me to get rid of the dead body without arousing suspicion. If it is wrong to save oneself by burning a dead body, it is not a great wrong, and I take it upon myself. It is the only wrong in the matter, unless it is wrong to love you and to be willing to die for you. Do you understand me?”
Leaning back against the door of the parlour, Maria Addolorata had almost unconsciously lifted her veil and was gazing into his eyes. The plan was horrible, but she could not help admiring the man's strength and daring. In his voice, even when he told her that he loved her, there was that quiet courage which imposes itself upon men and women alike.
The whole situation was as clear as day to her in a moment, for all his calculations were absolutely correct,--the fire-proof vault of the cell, the certainty that the body would be taken for hers, above all, the a.s.surance of her own supposed death, with the utter freedom from suspicion which it would mean for her ever afterwards. Was she not to be buried with Christian burial, mourned as dead, and freed in one hour from all the consequences of her life? It was masterly, though there was a horror in it.
She loved him more than her own soul. It was the fear of bringing shame upon her father and mother that had held her, far more than any spiritual dread. It was not strange that she should waver again when he had unfolded his scheme.
She turned, opened the door, and led him into the parlour, where the silver lamp was burning brightly.
”You must tell it all again,” she said, still standing. ”I must be quite sure that I understand.”
He knew well enough that she had finally yielded, since she went so far.
In his mind he quickly ran over the details of the plan once more, and mentally settled what still remained to be decided. But since she wished it, he went over all he had said already. Being able to speak in his natural voice without fear of being overheard by the portress, and feeling sure of the result, he spoke far more easily and more eloquently. Before he had finished he was holding her hand in his, and she was gazing intently into his eyes.
”It is life or death for me,” he said, when he had told her everything.
”Which shall it be?”
She was silent for a moment. Then her strong mouth smiled strangely.
”It shall be life for you, if I lose my soul for it,” she said.
She felt the quick thrill and pressure of his hand, and all the man's tremendous energy was alive again.