Part 17 (2/2)

She was taken to her room. It was dark, and across the corridor she saw Lisa in her lighted chamber. This was good luck! G.o.d had put the creature at once into her hands to deal with!

She was conscious of a strange exaltation, as if from wine--as if she would never need to sleep nor eat again. Her thoughts came and went like flashes of fire. She watched Lisa as she would a vampire, a creeping deadly beast. Pauline Felix--all that was adulterous and vile in women--there it was!

Her mind too, as never before, was full of a haughty complacency in herself. She felt like the member of some petty sect who is sure that G.o.d communes with him inside of his altar rails, while the man is outside whom he believes that G.o.d made only to be d.a.m.ned.

Lisa began to undress. Frances quickly turned away, ashamed of peeping into her chamber. But the one fact burned on into her brain:

The woman was killing George.

If G.o.d would rid the world of her! If a storm should rise now, and the lightning strike the house, and these stone walls should fall on her, now--now!

But the walls stood firm and the moonlight shone tranquilly on the world outside.

She told herself to be calm--to be just. But there was no justice while this woman went on with her work! G.o.d saw. He meant her to be stopped. Frances prayed to him frantically that Lisa might soon be put off of the earth. Just as the Catholic used to pray before he ma.s.sacred the Huguenot, or the Protestant, when he tied his Catholic brother to the stake. If this woman was mad for blood, it was a madness that many sincere people have shared.

Colette was busy with her mistress for a long time. She was very gentle and tender, being fond of Lisa, as people of her cla.s.s always were. She raised her voice as she made ready to leave the room.

”If the pain returns, here is the powder of morphia, mixed, within madame's reach,” she said.

Frances came close to the door.

”And if it continues?” asked Lisa.

”Let monsieur call me. I would not trust him to measure a powder,”

Colette said, laughing. ”It is too dangerous. He is not used to it--like me.”

Mrs. Waldeaux saw her lay a paper package on a shelf.

”I will pray that the pain will not return,” the girl said. ”But if it does, let monsieur knock at my door. Here is the tisane when you are thirsty.” She placed a goblet of milky liquid near the bed.

What more she said Frances did not hear.

It was to be! There was the morphia, and yonder the night drink within her reach. It was G.o.d's will.

Colette turned out the lamp, hesitated, and sat down by the fire.

Presently she rose softly, bent over her mistress, and, finding her asleep, left the room noiselessly. Her door closed far down the corridor.

Mrs. Waldeaux was quite alone, now.

It was but a step across the hall. So easy to do--easy. It must be done at once.

But her feet were like lead, she could not move; her tongue lay icy cold in her mouth. Her soul was willing, but her body rebelled.

What folly was this? It was the work of a moment. George would be free. She would have freed him.

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