Читать книгу Behind Closed Doors - Anna Katharine Green - Страница 7

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The Gretorex mansion was eminently adapted for a large gathering. Built since the introduction of the modern styles, it had intricacies and surprises innumerable; but it had also many and various rooms of spacious proportions opening into hall-ways so wide and upon stair-cases so ample, that had the number of quests reached the full thousand that had been invited, there would have been sufficient accommodation for all. So numerous indeed were the rooms on the first floor and so admirably were they disposed, it had not been found necessary to ask the guests to ascend the stairs at all. Thus it was that Dr. Cameron had met friends on the landings but none on the floor above, and thus it was that upon his return to the room which had been allotted to him, he could pace its length for twenty minutes without an interruption. And a friend’s face, a jovial word would have been so welcome! For he did not want to think, and was impatient at the solitude which forced him to do so. When the die has been cast when our future is decided upon, we wish to reach the culmination without delay, and Dr. Cameron, weary with many and varied emotions, only longed for the moment when amid music and bustle, the flash of lights and the murmur of voices, he should lead his young bride into the presence that would irrevocably seal their fate. For in these long and heavy minutes of waiting he had something besides his thoughts to contend with, he had impressions, a consciousness almost amounting to an intuition, that something strange, something dark, something entirely out of harmony with this scene of light and joy was taking place near him:—in his sight if he could but see, in his hearing if he could but hear; at all events near him, awesomely near, as near as that closed door towards which he cast hurried and shrinking glances every time a turn in his walk brought him within view of it.

That he had no reason, or at the most the slightest reason, for this sensation, did not make it any less vivid or powerful. Right or wrong it had got a strong hold upon him and swayed him so completely that if the door I have spoken of had opened at one of the moments his eye was upon it and revealed a grizzly skeleton standing on its threshold, he would not have felt the shock as much as he did the ringing bursts of melody that now and then soared up from the violins below. Yet in his heart he knew that he was but the fool of his imagination and that nothing more serious than the re-arranging of a lock of hair or the buttoning on of a refractory pair of gloves by the common-place hand of the woman he had seen enter there, could be going on in this room his fancy peopled with shapes of fear and despair.

For he was a man of common-sense and knew the fashionable world well and was moreover quite aware as a physician how far a man’s imagination can carry him when his nerves have been unstrung by a series of such potent sensations as had visited him in the last four hours. Let that door once open and the bride step forth and all would be hope and cheer again. He knew it even while he was shuddering over the conviction that it had opened, and that a hand had been thrust out in a gesture of silent appeal and as quickly again withdrawn.

The coming of the servant with the articles necessary to complete his toilet, was like cold water dashed upon a man heated with fever. It righted him immediately. As he tied his neck-tie and fastened his gloves he felt himself to be no more a dreamer of nightmares, but Dr. Cameron, known throughout all the city for his practical common sense and sound judgment. He even laughed in his old, easy fashion as he peered down the hall and saw the servant who had waited upon him walk up and knock with the utmost assurance on the door he had been so long and fearfully watching. Nor did he feel himself to have been any the less a fool when in a moment later he beheld it open and caught a glimpse of his bride’s white veil and sweeping train as she gave her answer to the man and then waited with the door half shut for the summons to descend. As he had promised himself it would be, all was cheer and hope again; nor in the bustle of preparation that presently followed did he become conscious of a thought out of harmony with the scene till, suddenly, as he was half way down the stairs, he felt his bride lean a little heavily on his arm, and turning to look at her, perceived, not a woman, not an automaton even, but a spectre, whose glassy eyes fixed upon vacancy, froze the blood in his veins.

What did it mean? Was she mad or was she—He did not stop to finish his thought; he clutched her by the arm and gently but firmly spoke her name. A shiver seemed to go through her, then she turned her head and slowly, painfully, under his gaze her lips took on the semblance of a smile so forced, so meaningless, that he stopped her where she was, and pointing to the surging sea of faces below, exclaimed:

“They are waiting for us; the minister has his book open, and your parents are already standing on each side of him; but if you do not wish to marry me, if there is any impediment in the way, or if you feel I cannot be to you the husband you desire, say so, and we will turn back. No moment is too late before the minister has uttered the final words.”

But her eyes which had opened fearfully as he began to speak, closed softly as he finished, and murmuring coldly, “Let us proceed,” she stepped down another stair.

He followed her and spoke again.

“I cannot go on, Genevieve,” he persisted, “till you assure me of one thing. Is your heart mine? Stands there no other man between us whose memory makes this moment frightful to you? If there is—

“There is not,” came from her lips, now showing less pallid under this questioning. “I am ill, fearfully ill; that is all.”

He looked at her. He had known sickness which had changed a person’s whole aspect in less time than had passed since he saw her blooming and brilliant a half hour before. And such might have attacked her, he could not tell.

“Are you too ill to go on?” he asked.

“No.”

“You can bear the effort and excitement?”

“I can bear anything.”

His foot moved towards the edge of the step on which he stood.

“Genevieve?”

He had stopped again.

“Yes,” she murmured, wearily.

“Do you love me?”

Her form, which up to that moment had held itself erect by the mere force of a will exerted to the utmost, suddenly yielded and expressed in every curve, a feminine softness.

“With all my heart,” she murmured.

“Then,” said he, “I am content.” And his foot passed over the edge of the step.

There was no further delay. In a moment they were at the foot of the stairs, and in another had entered the parlor under the gaze of five hundred pairs of eyes. As they did so a murmur expressive of something more than admiration arose behind them, and Dr. Cameron, tortured by anxiety, cast another look at his bride. She was pale and her eyes were surrounded by great circles, but it was a woman who moved beside him and a determined woman too, and the change brought comfort to his heart and made the rest of his walk down the room less of an ordeal than their entrance had been.

The clergyman was an old man and had doubtless married a thousand couples. To him there was nothing strange in a pallid and weary-looking bride, and a nervous, deeply excited bridegroom. He gave them a benevolent glance, lifted his book and began the service. But there were some persons present, relatives and friends of the contracting parties, who felt there was something unusual in the affair and craned their necks to get a glimpse of the bride’s face, wholly forgetful of the splendor of her jewels, and the priceless lace of her veil which under other circumstances would have attracted all their attention. The bride, however, did not lift her eyes and when she spoke in answer to the minister’s questions, the reply she gave was uttered in a voice so low that no one heard it but the bridegroom and the minister. But this is not unusual with brides, and the ceremony proceeded, and the time came for placing the ring on her finger,

But here a difficulty arose. For some reason best known to herself, Miss Gretorex had preferred to be married without bridesmaids. There was therefore no one at hand to assist her in taking off her glove, and her own agitation making her unequal to the task, she found herself obliged after an ineffectual effort or so, to stretch out her hand for the ring, with the glove still on it. Dr. Cameron, feeling for her embarrassment, accepted the situation with his usual sang froid, and holding the ring on the first joint—for it would not slip all the way down on a finger so protected,—was on the point of uttering the sacred vow, to love, cherish and protect her, when through the hush of the moment, there came an interruption so startling and so wild that every head turned, and more than one rosy cheek grew pale. It was a scream, an unearthly and terrified scream! Coming from where? No one could tell. Speaking of what? Fear, dismay, anguish, anything, everything that was out of accord with the scene it had so weirdly interrupted.

Dr. Cameron, thinking of the banshee’s warning, stretched out his arm to sustain his bride, whom this last and most fearful shock must surely rob of all strength. But he soon found that she needed no assistance. Instead of succumbing to the general fright, she seemed to rise above it, and contrary to every expectation of those about her, her head rose and her lip grew firm till she grew absolutely masterful in her earnestness and determination. The minister caught her look, the bridegroom the infection of her spirit and the ceremony proceeded almost without the break of even a momentary hesitation. With the utterance of the benediction, a great sigh of relief rose from the vast assemblage, and upon the bride and groom turning to receive their congratulations, no one marvelled to observe her cheek so pale, or his brow so troubled, for the echo of that unexplained shriek was still ringing in all ears; and to superstitious minds if to no others, there was an omen in this weird interruption that was anything but reassuring.

Mr. and Mrs. Gretorex alone preserved their usual imperturbability. With smiling faces they greeted their child and shook hands with their new son-in-law. Then as the wonder and dismay about them took speech, and such phrases as, “What do you think it was! Did you ever hear anything like it,” began to be whispered about, Mr. Gretorex stepped forward and remarked:

“We have a servant who is subject to fits of nervous excitement. It was her voice you heard.” And immediately the countenances of all brightened and the line of friends and acquaintances began to form and congratulations were offered and the scene regained its lost cheerfulness and brilliancy.

Only in two hearts the shadow yet rested, and upon two brows apprehension had set its seal too deeply for a word to drive it away. Dr. Cameron and his bride did not believe in the explanation which had been offered, and to one of them at least, the future held terror which made the present ordeal of smiles, bows and mechanical hand-shaking a torture which was only made endurable by the fear of re-arousing suspicion in the breasts of the guests. And even this thought lost its sustaining power at last, and Dr. Cameron who was constantly on the watch for signs of weakening on the part of his bride, turned and drew up a chair for her, saying: “You are overtaxing your strength. Take it easier, my darling.”

A smile, extraordinarily sweet, answered this his first attempt at conjugal tenderness, but it soon flitted away, leaving her paler and more hollow-eyed than before.

“I cannot stand this long,” she murmured. “I must know what that scream meant. Do you think I could be excused from receiving any more congratulations? I want to go to my room.” She paused with an irrepressible shudder; then continued, “I must go to my room if only for a moment. I cannot breathe here.”

“There is your mother,” he rejoined, surprised and yet touched by her aspect of appeal. “She understands all these matters; let her manage it for you.”

And anxious to save his newly made wife all the effort he could, he leaned forward, and touching Mrs. Gretorex on the arm, whispered:

“Genevieve is really feeling quite ill. Is there no way of releasing her from all this nonsense? She wants to go to her room.”

The haughty mother surveyed her daughter in surprise.

“What is the matter?” she asked. “You were well enough this afternoon.”

“I know,” responded her daughter with an effort; “but that scream—”

“Pshaw! haven’t you heard Margaret cry out before? You are foolish to mind it; everything is all right now.”

“I know,” was the low reply, “but—” and here the young bride made an effort visible to all—“I cannot be myself till I know that it was Margaret who screamed. Send and see for me.”

The mother’s lip curled but she did not refuse her daughter’s request, Beckoning a servant to her, she whispered him an order and turned again to her guests. Mrs. Cameron endeavored to do the same, but her smile had become ghastly and she committed more than one gaucherie. At length the servant not returning, she gave up all attempt to sustain her part, and sat literally shivering, her eye on the door by which the servant had disappeared as if upon his reappearance alone her life and reason depended.

Dr. Cameron, who lost nothing of all this, even while endeavoring to cover up her abstraction by renewed attention to the guests crowding around them, was about to suggest the advisability of her following out her first impulse and going to her room, when suddenly her whole bearing changed, and she rose with a hurried apology and hastened towards the door. Her husband followed, but her action was so quick and the throng so great that she escaped him for the moment, and he did not see her again till she appeared on the stairs going rapidly up.

She was moving eagerly and showed no signs of weakness, so he did not hasten, there being more than one of his particular friends in the way, ready with jest or congratulation to detain him. Some few minutes therefore had elapsed before he reached her door. It was closed and he knocked, expecting it to be opened immediately. But though he repeated his knock no answer came from within, and irritated beyond measure by this succession of incomprehensible occurrences, he shook the handle of the door and spoke her name with decision.

It had the desired effect, for in a moment the key was turned in the lock and the door opened just wide enough to show her face. He was startled to perceive that the room behind her was perfectly dark.

“I will be out in a moment,” she declared, and smiled a hurried dismissal.

But he was not going to face the crowd below again, so he did not turn at her bidding, but kept his place, which seeing, she stepped out into the hall and said;

“I am feeling better. If you will give me ten minutes more rest and quiet, I think I shall be able to go down stairs again.”

Why did not Dr. Cameron feel relieved at this, especially as she was looking better? He could not tell.

“Are you sure,” he inquired, “that you are best alone? Shall I not stay with you and take you down?”

But her look trembled with an appeal so urgent, she seemed so anxious for solitude and repose, that he had not the heart to urge his new claims upon her. He therefore withdrew after a comforting word or two, determined to step into the room which he had occupied before the ceremony and there await her coming. But before he could reach its threshold he was stopped by the servant who had been sent by Mrs. Gretorex to make inquiries about Margaret.

“O, sir,” inquired this man, “is Mrs. Cameron in her room? I want to tell her about Margaret.”

“And what have you to tell?” asked the doctor.

“Nothing, sir, except that Margaret isn’t in the house at all. She went out after she got her supper without asking leave of anyone, sir. I suppose she thought no one would miss her. But Mrs. Fenton, the housekeeper, sir, sees everything and—”

“Then she was not here when that scream was heard?” interrupted Dr. Cameron.

“No, sir; and Peter says—he was on the stairs, sir, at the time—that the scream came from our young lady’s room. But I think he was mistaken, for there was no one there to scream—”

“Wasn’t there a hair-dresser or some such woman?” queried the other.

The servant shook his head.

“But I saw some such woman go in before we went down stairs,” persisted the doctor.

“Very likely, but she must have come out again; for Miss Gretorex—I ask your pardon, sir—Mrs. Cameron, locked the door after her, as she wouldn’t have done if she had left anybody in the room. I was in the hall, sir, and saw her, as perhaps you did too, for you were standing where you are now, sir, if you remember.”

Dr. Cameron did remember, though the incident made no impression on him at the time; and puzzled more than he wished to appear, he waved the man aside and made another attempt to enter his room. But he was stopped again and this time by his wife’s voice. He turned quickly; she was advancing towards him with a light step, her veil off, her gloves torn from her hands.

“Pardon me,” she entreated, “but I have changed my mind. I do not see any reason why we should go down stairs again before all those people. I am not well, and they know it, and you hear yourself what a good time they are having without us. Let us go away at once. I do so long to be out of the house—and—and—you will please me so if you say yes.”

She had laid her ungloved hand upon his arm, but she quickly withdrew it. Her eyes however, continued raised to his with a look of which he felt the eagerness and also the inscrutability. He did not know what to say.

“We are going to Washington are we not?” she now half interrogated, half asserted.

He replied that this had been his intention.

“Then we shall have to start soon, for it is a long ride to Jersey City.”

“I had expected—” he began, but he did not continue. Why waste words when she was only asking him to do what his own better judgment told him was best.

“You will go?” she persisted.

“As soon as you can get ready.”

Her look of relief was unmistakable. She smiled and a tint of color came into her cheek.

“You are good,” she declared, warmly. Then as a loud swell of music rose from below, she glanced nervously at her dress and drew back. “I have to put on my travelling suit,” she remarked. “When that is done we will call mother. Wait for me in your room.” And with a nod she glided from him, her long train sweeping behind her, with reckless haste.

He watched her for a moment, his brows bent but his heart in a glow. He did not understand her but at this crisis he did not know that he wished to. The fascination of her look might depart when her trouble did, and he was not yet ready to see it go even though he grieved to have her ill, and felt a pang of real pain at the sight of her hollow eyes whose glance he had lately found so brilliant.

He was therefore looking in her direction when she reentered her room, and still looking when in less than a minute she came out again, and peering carefully on all sides, slipped up to a door near by, opened it, and discovering nothing to disturb her, passed hurriedly in. She carried her suit, hat, and a small travelling-satchel on her arm. It made him think of his own clothes and of another fact that was slightly embarrassing. This was, that his trunk was at his own house and his money also. Neither had he any carriage at his disposal, having dismissed his own as we remember at the elevated station down-town. He would therefore have to request Mrs. Gretorex to order up her horses which was certainly an awkward piece of business, and he would have to carry his bride to his own house before he could start with her for Washington.

But these were small matters after the serious anxieties he had already experienced; and determining to make light of the whole affair, he sent word to Mrs. Gretorex that circumstances compelled him to take his bride away at an earlier hour than he had contemplated, and asked if he might be accommodated with the use of her carriage as his own was not at his command.

This brought the lady to his room as he had expected, and a short passage at arms occurred between them which ended in his wishes being respected and the carriage ordered. But Mrs. Gretorex was greatly disappointed and did not hesitate to say so. It was consequently a relief to Dr. Cameron to have their interview interrupted as it shortly was by the appearance of his wife, fully dressed and ready for departure.

“Oh!” she murmured, as she saw them together, and set down the satchel she carried in some confusion. But she speedily recovered her self-possession, and advancing lightly, observed with careless ease,

“Sorry to leave you so soon, mother. It would be pleasant to stay, of course, but I had an awful shock when that scream was heard, and Dr. Cameron thinks as I do, that we had better go while I have the strength to do so. You will pardon us, won’t you, especially as you will see us so soon again?”

Mrs. Gretorex did not answer; she was examining her daughter’s dress.

“Well I never saw you look so well in olive before,” she observed, at last, as the daughter turned almost petulantly aside. “And how that new dressmaker does fit you. Your figure looks as well again as it did in Madame Dubois’ dresses. Anyone would have declared you had gained five pounds, if they did not stop to see that it was the skill of the modiste that had rounded you out so gracefully. I will never interfere in such matters again, my love.”

The young bride flushed, as if this obtrusion of feminine trivialties into a departure of this nature was especially distasteful to her. But she said nothing, and lifted up her face to be kissed, in the cold and somewhat ceremonious way Dr. Cameron had himself been accustomed to. “Good-bye, mamma,”she murmured. “Say the same to Papa for me. I—Oh, where is Peter; I have a trunk to go down.”

“Peter is coming now. Good-bye, Dr. Cameron. Bring my daughter back as happy as she was four hours ago, and I shall have nothing more to ask of you.” And Mrs. Gretorex stepped aside as if to make room for them to pass out.

But though Dr. Cameron, animated by her gesture, led the way to the door, his bride showed no disposition to follow him.

“I will wait till Peter has taken my trunk,” she declared.

And though he endeavored to urge her to descend while the hall was comparatively empty, she refused to do so, and not only lingered till Peter appeared, but persisted in going with him herself into her room where she showed him her trunk, strapped and ready by the door, and watched him till he had carried it safely out.

“I don’t see where the maids are,” murmured Mrs. Gretorex.

But her daughter not minding the implied criticism, advanced with forced gayety, and taking Dr. Cameron’s arm, announced that she was now ready to depart.

“I will just close and lock your door,” said Mrs, Gretorex.

But her daughter, saying there would be plenty of time for doing this after her departure, led her mother towards the stairs, and smilingly waited till she had seen her long damask train disappear across the first landing. Then she looked up at Dr. Cameron and they ran rapidly down.

“We will slip out as quietly as we can,” she whispered. But the company had already got wind of their departure and there were many good-byes to be answered, and much merriment, to which Genevieve lent herself with a good grace though her husband could see that her eye scarcely left her mother’s tall figure, and that the grasp of her hand on his arm tightened if ever that mother made the least movement as if about to withdraw.

Finally the last handshake was given, the last jest uttered and they found themselves at the carriage door. “Now,” cried he, “we shall soon be on our way.” And he held the door open for her to enter.

But she was not yet ready. “I have something to say to Peter, first,” she declared. And slipping up to the old servant, who was just about to reenter the house, she thanked him and gave him what seemed a final gift.

The man bowed and went hurriedly in. She cast one look behind her, sighed, or so her husband thought, then turned quickly and stepped into the carriage. The doctor followed, the door was shut with a bang, and the carriage rolled away. As it did so, the young husband felt the pressure of his wife’s head on his shoulder, and looking down into her face perceived that she had fainted.