Part 41 (1/2)
It was all dark, the blinds closed, the curtains drawn, dark and deserted, as it had been since that fatal night. Nothing had been changed, absolutely nothing. There stood the baby ba.s.sinet, there the little table on which the knife had lain, there beneath the open window the chair in which Ethel, Lady Catheron, had slept her last long sleep. A hush that seemed like the hush of death lay over all.
Edith stood silent and grave--not speaking. She motioned him hastily to come away. He obeyed. Another moment, and they stood together under the blue bright sky.
”Oh!” Edith said, under her breath, ”who did it?”
”Who indeed? And yet Lady Helena knows.”
His face and tone were sombre. How dare they let her lie in her unavenged grave? A Catheron had done it beyond doubt, and to save the Catheron name and honor the murderer had been let go.
”Lady Helena knows!” repeated Edith; ”it _was_ that wicked brother and sister, then? How cruel--how cruel!”
”It was not the sister--I believe _that_. That it must have been the brother no doubt can exist.”
”Is he living or dead?”
”Living, I believe. By Heaven! I have half a mind yet to hunt him down, and hand him over to the hangman for the deed he has done!”
”An ancient name and family honor are wonderful things on this side of the Atlantic, a couple of million dollars on ours. They can save the murderer from the gallows. We won't talk about it, Sir Victor--it makes you unhappy I see; only if ever I--if ever I,” laughing and blus.h.i.+ng a little, ”come to be mistress of that big, romantic old house, I shall wall that room up. It will always be a haunted chamber--a Bluebeard closet for me.”
”If ever you are mistress,” he repeated. ”Edith, my dearest, when will you be?”
”Who knows? Never, perhaps.”
”Edith--again!”
”Well, who can tell. I may die--you may die--something may happen. I can't realize that I ever will be. I can't think of myself as Lady Catheron.”
”Edith, I command you! Name the day.”
”Now, my dear Sir Victor--”
”Dear Victor, without the prefix; let all formality end between us.
Why need we wait? You are your own mistress, I my own master; I am desperately in love--I want to be married. I _will_ be married. There is nothing to wait for--I _won't_ wait. Edith shall it be--this is the last of May--shall it be the first week of July?”
”No, sir; it shall not, nor the first week of August. We don't do things in this desperate sort of hot haste.”
”But why should we delay? What is there to delay for? I shall have a brain-fever if I am compelled to wait longer than August. Be reasonable, Edith; don't let it be later than August.”
”Now, now, now, Sir Victor Catheron, August is not to be thought of. I shall not marry you for ages to come--not until Lady Helena Powyss gives her full and free consent.”
”Lady Helena shall give her full and free consent in a week; she could not refuse me anything longer if she tried. Little tyrant! if you cared for me one straw, you would not object like this.”
”Yes I would. n.o.body marries in this impetuous fas.h.i.+on. I won't hear of August. Besides, there is my engagement with Mrs. Stuart. I have promised to talk French and German all through the Continent for them this summer.”
”I will furnish Mrs. Stuart a subst.i.tute with every European language at her finger-ends. Seriously, Edith, you must consider that contract at an end--my promised wife can be no one's paid companion. Pardon me, but you must see this, Edith.”
”I see it,” she answered gravely. She had her own reasons for not wis.h.i.+ng to accompany the Stuart family now. And after all, why should she insist on postponing the marriage?
”You are relenting--I see it in your face,” he exclaimed imploringly.