Chapter VII: A Voice in the Night

The woman who presently turned to Mr. Converse was a very different woman from the one who had met him but a few minutes previously. As soon as the brief emotional outburst had exhausted itself her admirable poise and self-possession returned, and with it all the frigid reserve, the air of aloofness and apparent unconcern. But there was this immense difference:--where her attitude had been condescending and inflexibly hostile, it now conveyed a subtle suggestion of surrender, by recognizing some tremendous advantage which this man seemed to possess; she was no longer hard and unyielding, but ready to comply with any demands he might make; and he knew that every obstacle which served to seal her lips had been swept away as by a breath. Such was the potency of a name.

"Please be seated, Mr.--Mr. Converse," she finally said, her voice tense with controlled passion. There was no attempt at explanation, no apology,--unless this concession could be counted such,--and she faced him placidly, wholly at her ease.

"Was it of this," she continued, "that you talked to Charlotte Fairchild this morning?"

No doubt now why Joyce had inquired for him. So this leaven was at work.

"Yes, to a limited extent," was the cautious reply.

"You insinuated nothing--nothing--" she hesitated and still further lowered her voice, in which there was now a dominant note of anxiety, "you did not allow her to gather the idea that there was anything discreditable in General Westbrook's--"

"Pardon me," he broke in quietly. "I could hardly insinuate anything derogatory of the General's character, when I am ignorant that any such circumstance exists."

She looked at him doubtfully, narrowly, as if she would probe his thoughts, and presently sighed.

"If I only knew--" she breathed, vaguely.

"What, Mrs. Westbrook? I will tell you if I can."

"Well--" she still hesitated, "if I only knew what your knowledge amounts to. You say General Westbrook was innocent of any wrong-doing; how should you know? What reason have you had to consider the possibility at all, if some suspicion has not been engendered in your mind? Then, what occasioned that suspicion? You see, I am torn by doubts and anxieties."

"Yes, Mrs. Westbrook, so I perceive. But it would require half the night to go fully into this matter; and still, to free you from your doubts and anxieties, I may tell you this: that the tragedies of which Señor de Sanchez and your husband were the victims are very closely connected, and I have many reasons for believing that whatever light may be thrown upon one will correspondingly tend to clear the other. The name Castillo--or Del Castillo--bears a close relation to both; therefore it is essential that every circumstance bearing upon that relation should be known and understood. It is evident that you know something of Don Juan of which I am ignorant; it is also evident that whatever you know troubles you. Now, I may be able to remove the cause of that trouble, and you to give me some valuable information."

She pondered quite a while.

"Mr. Converse, I am a proud woman," she announced, simply; "to go into such intimate family matters--thus openly to discuss topics which I hesitate to contemplate even in the privacy of my own thoughts--is to me a very real torture; but for the sake of my dead husband, I owe you some sort of explanation. When you mentioned that name it frightened me; it made me suspect that you had the power of divining what is forbidden my own mind, and I naturally wondered to what extent that divination was capable of penetrating.

"But, after all, my fears have been based on a mere phantom--a name spoken in the dark--and in hearkening to it and pondering upon it, I have allowed myself greatly to wrong my husband. God forgive me! ... Has not the entire matter become irrelevant?" she abruptly finished, with obvious reluctance to proceed.

"Far from it--far from it," was the reply, uttered emphatically; "you must let me be the judge of that. There are so many ramifications to these two tragedies, that you cannot even remotely realize how significant and important the most trifling particular may be."

"But it does not affect Joyce--in any way you imagine.... Please be seated, Mr. Converse."

He obeyed this second injunction, drawing the chair around so that he directly faced her. He waited quietly for her to proceed.

"Do you still wish to hear?" she asked presently; and when he bowed a courteous intimation that he was waiting, she continued:

"Well, it is very difficult--it is so like a confession,"--she arose abruptly, and, walking to the door, bolted it; after which she resumed her seat and the recital simultaneously,--"that I hope my husband may hear and know it for an act of penance.

"General Westbrook was never a man to discuss his business affairs with any one, and there existed many reasons why he should not make a confidante of me; so I must tell you at the outset that what I heard of the name Del Castillo came to my ears in more or less of a surreptitious manner and without General Westbrook's knowledge. Whether the words themselves or the circumstances under which I heard them justify my anxiety, you may judge.

"When he finally wound up his affairs in Mexico and returned home, I noticed immediately that some trouble was weighing heavily upon his mind. I never showed him by word or sign that I remarked his mental state; but it was plain, nevertheless, and so unusual as to worry me not a little. As the days passed this secret trouble deepened rather than grew lighter, and developed in my poor husband an irascibility quite foreign to his uniformly courteous manner. Naturally, when I beheld that this trouble was not diminishing, my worry increased; but I never questioned him.

"Well, this condition continued for several months without abatement or apparent change, until one night I was awakened suddenly by hearing him cry aloud. I was very much startled,--frightened, indeed,--and I waited to see if I was the victim of my sleeping senses, or if he had indeed called out." She paused, and her thin lips momentarily tightened. "Then I experienced the most dreadful sensation of my life.

"Our apartments, you must know, adjoin and are divided only by portieres. We had both retired long since; I was dimly conscious of the lateness of the hour; and I had no reason to believe otherwise than that the General had been many hours asleep. But as I waited, I found that I had not been dreaming. I heard him say distinctly, 'I had rather see her dead at my feet than wife to such as you.'

"Now thoroughly alarmed, I switched on the light and hastened into his room. My husband was standing in the middle of the floor, and I perceived instantly that he was asleep. This merely increased my fright, for in all the years of our married life he had been a healthy sleeper, though retiring late and rising early.

"I caught his arm and called him by name. He awoke at once and looked at me in a dazed way; then he became unaccountably angry, and demanded to know if he had spoken. And when I told him, he explained his words as the vagaries of a bad dream. Far from satisfied, I accepted this explanation, scorning to question him concerning any matter which he did not choose to tell me voluntarily; and I returned to my own apartment in some chagrin, for his manner had offended me. I believe neither of us slept much the remainder of that night.

"Well, Mr. Converse, that was merely a beginning--four years ago. It may be difficult for you to understand my conduct under such trying circumstances--why I never questioned my husband; why I permitted my doubts and fears to continue without an effort to remove them; but General Westbrook and I to a certain extent lived our lives apart," the listener fancied he detected a note of bitterness in this statement,--"and we were not in entire accord upon all matters. Don't get the idea that any ground for trouble existed between us," she hastily added; "no, no,--but there was a certain restraint, a lack of sympathy, characterizing our entire married life, which led naturally to a repression of those confidences without which such a condition cannot be perfect. God help me, perhaps I was to blame; but so it was. And besides, I did try to remove my doubts--to quiet my fears, as you shall presently see.

"Two nights passed before I heard other dream vagaries, as he was pleased to call them, and I first heard the name Del Castillo upon this second occasion. I failed to catch the sense in which it was used, but after a long silence he began to say, over and over again, 'Paquita is not dead--Paquita is not dead.'"

Paquita again! Verily, she was not dead,--if her influence over the destinies of so many of the living signified anything at all.

"I listened until it nearly drove me mad, and again I awoke him. When I repeated his words he was angry, as he had been before, and at the same time confused. But he tried to laugh it off, and demanded that I think no more of the episode. In short, his manner was so strange and unnatural that I was worried nearly to distraction. How could I refrain from thinking of it? Of what use was it to bid my thoughts occupy themselves with other matters when they continued to circle about this dreadful secret which preyed so heavily upon his mind? Mr. Converse, you can't imagine the expedients I adopted to dissipate my fears, the casuistry I employed to banish my doubts. I would argue that his sense of honor was so exalted, his standard so high, that a very little thing might grievously trouble him, which might appear trivial to another man. But how could this idea be reconciled with his wild words of death?

"The next morning he announced to me that he would thenceforward sleep in another room. I made no comment, but superintended the removal of his things.

"I lay awake all that night and most of the next; then--then--"

Once more she paused. She plucked nervously at a fold of her skirt, manifesting the greatest reluctance to go on. But her nature was not to be swayed by trifles; if a painful confidence were once undertaken, it was quite plain she would press it to the end, sparing neither herself nor whomsoever else it might affect. All at once she folded her hands with an easy, natural movement and continued:

"Mr. Converse, where I would not openly seek light, I was not above listening in secret: in dressing-gown and slippers I stole to his door during the early morning hours, and knelt with my ear to the keyhole.

"Many times I was rewarded with no spoken words--only the evidences of a troubled and broken slumber. At other times I heard him say things that made my blood run cold: 'Man, before you do this thing I will kill you with my own hands'; again, 'Why did you not tell me this man is living?' At times he cursed some one in a terrible voice, and once--once--" She leant suddenly forward and fixed upon him a gaze moving in its intensity. "Mr. Converse, is this confidence buried within your own bosom?"

"It is," he replied, with convincing gravity.

"Once," she went on, leaning back again, "I heard him groan, 'Elinor, I may never look upon your face again; _mea culpa! mea culpa!_'" Of a sudden she clenched one hand convulsively and struck smartly an arm of the chair. "Good God! what could that mean?" she cried with a startling fierceness; then, one quick intake of breath, and she was again her usual tranquil, collected self. She attempted a little smile. "You see," she said, in a deprecating way, "that those confidences to the night have not yet lost their power to disturb me--and I am not easily moved." She remained silent for a time, as if collecting her thoughts; presently she resumed the narrative.

"There were certain names mentioned by him times innumerable. I have heard Castillo, Alberto de Sanchez, Paquita, my daughter's name, and Fernando--"

"Fernando?" Converse interpellated, sharply.

"Yes. Do you recognize it? I know no more of it than that."

He shook his head. "It is new to me.... But proceed, please."

"Well, at best the names were so confused and uttered in such a way that I could gather no connection, and oftener than not his words would trail off into incomplete sentences and unintelligible mutterings.

"But so it went on. Night after night I would hearken to the incoherencies of my sleeping husband, overcome with a nameless terror in the cold dark hall; in the broad glare of day my anxieties and fears would shrink almost to insignificance--but oh, the night!

"However, as time passed, whatever was preying on General Westbrook's mind began gradually to abate its evil influence; his sleep became once more healthy, and abruptly he returned to his regular apartment.

"Naturally, my own fears subsided somewhat; but a suspicion of unknown wrongdoing had been awakened in my mind, casting a continual shadow over my thoughts. Oh, that terrible worm of doubt that gnawed forever at my brain! After this, I believe, my poor husband could have made no explanation that would have destroyed it utterly.

"Of course, Mr. Converse, slight as was my knowledge of General Westbrook's affairs, I knew about his association with Señor de Sanchez. I also knew that Señor de Sanchez was a distinguished gentleman, of great wealth and excellent family; and when the question of his eligibility as a husband for my daughter was broached, I--I--I-- Well, it was an honor of which any mother might have been proud."

"Mrs. Westbrook, I cannot believe that you are expressing your true feelings in this regard." The look that accompanied this announcement was sharp and meaning. "Were you satisfied with such an arrangement?"

She returned his scrutiny a little doubtfully; but at last asked:

"Can this be of any benefit to Joyce?"

"If you did not sanction Señor de Sanchez's proposal, I could scarcely overestimate its importance as an aid to clearing up some matters as they concern the young lady."

"Well, then I shall be frank. At first I did not give my approval; I had other ideas for Joyce's future; but one morning General Westbrook sent a request that I come to him in the library. The instant I entered I comprehended that he was struggling with some recent trouble. In the course of the conversation which followed he informed me that a very grave reason existed why we should consider carefully before definitely rejecting Señor de Sanchez's offer; and while he did not tell me what that reason was, I was given to understand that it involved some scandal threatening my husband, and that De Sanchez had the power to remove it.

"'Otherwise?' I inquired. He turned to a drawer of his desk and produced a pistol.

"'Otherwise,' he said with a smile, 'I might still escape it.'

"'Do you contemplate murder?' I asked.

"'Louise!' he cried in a hurt tone, as though pained that I could entertain such a thought; 'is it possible you can so misconstrue my words?'

"'I do not know how else to interpret them--nor your actions,' said I.

"'Then I shall be more explicit,' he rejoined; 'I would place the muzzle of this pistol--'

"'You need not continue,' I interrupted. 'Is it so serious?'

"'It is,' said he, very soberly.

"'And do you think now that I could see Joyce go to such a man?' I asked.

"'You do not fully understand,' he persisted. 'The situation is this,'--and he repeated that Señor de Sanchez would have the power to do away with the impending scandal. We concluded by agreeing to leave the matter with Joyce.

"Her manner of taking it greatly relieved the situation. 'Give me six months,' was her response. 'If at the end of that time you still consider it necessary, I will marry him.' She looked at her father with open scorn. Then she went on, 'You may inform him; but this promise rests on three conditions: that it be kept a secret; that it is never referred to in my presence, directly or indirectly; and that he make no attempt to see me till the six months have expired.'

"The General said, 'I am afraid he will receive the message with a sour smile, my dear.' But Joyce's manner showed a complete indifference. 'Moreover,' went on my husband, 'your word once passed, there must be no backing down--no retreat.' She flashed another scornful look at him, but merely said, 'Do not forget to emphasize the three conditions when you see Señor de Sanchez.'

"And such was the arrangement at the time of Señor de Sanchez's death."

The Captain fixed his regard upon the cold and handsome woman before him, and strove to harmonize her appearance with the remarkable marital condition revealed by her most amazing disclosure. Was it possible she sat as tranquilly as she now was sitting, and discussed in those arctic tones the chances of her husband committing suicide, with this same air of easy indifference? It was impossible not to believe her; yet such utter _sang-froid_ was almost inconceivable.

In a moment Converse pulled himself together.

"With your permission, I will ask you a few questions concerning Miss Joyce. First, do you know why she remained silent before my questions this morning?"

She lowered her head, and sat for a time in deep reflection. When she again turned to him, it was not to reply directly to his question.

"I am not fully in my daughter's confidence in this matter, although I believe I do know what motives--or impulses, rather--are controlling her. I may add that they have my reprobation; but the interests involved are quite serious; Joyce has unexpectedly developed a phase of character astonishing to me, and for the first time in my life I hesitate to interfere in her affairs. The matter does not affect her own welfare alone, and I must refuse to go further into it with you. She has assumed a terrible responsibility, and however severely I may condemn her conduct, she has commanded my admiration. I feel that I must at least coöperate to the extent of respecting her silence. She wishes to see you, I believe. Hear from her what she has to say."

"Does your reticence include the interchange of messages between Miss Joyce and Mr. Fairchild?"

She looked at him with a quick accession of interest. "No," was her reply. "Why should you ask that?"

He waved the question to one side. "It's immaterial. Possibly there has been no such interchange.... There is but one more question, Mrs. Westbrook. While you were returning from Mrs. Farquier's last night, why did you peer so closely into the darkness? Whom were you expecting to see?"

A faint flicker of wonder penetrated the mask of her countenance, but quickly disappeared.

"I suppose all this is necessary?"

"It is, indeed."

"Well, I expected to see one of two young men."

"Ah! Then the one you did see--the fact of its being Mr. Lynden--removed a cause of worry?"

"You are correct. I could not consider him seriously in any light."

That was all. As she arose, she inclined her head slightly. "Joyce will see you here," she said.

Had every incident of the past half-hour been a dream? Here was the identical woman who had given him such a glacial welcome, now leaving him with the same air of reserve and aloofness. No, not quite. She was nearly to the door, when of a sudden she faced about and advanced close to him; and for the third time during this extraordinary interview he was so taken aback that he was at a loss for words.

She stood motionless for a time, her pale, cold eyes fixed intently on his serious gray ones. Then she spoke.

"Look closely, Mr. Converse."

He was disconcerted, and made no response. Presently she went on.

"You think I am a strange woman, do you not?--cold, callous, indifferent, incapable of any feeling?"

Still he was at a loss for words.

"You, who read me so well,--who seemed to divine all of Joyce's thoughts and actions,--look deep into my eyes. Am I such a woman?"

Then, to him who gazed so earnestly, it was as if a miracle had happened; as if the icy shell which encased this handsome woman had all at once melted--vanished from before his eyes--and it was given him to read the naked soul beneath. It was as swift in passing, but as vivid, as a flash of lightning.

He retreated a step and bowed low to her.

"Mrs. Westbrook, forgive me; I have misjudged you. I see that your daughter's welfare is as indissolubly a part of your own as if your two lives were one." He paused a moment, then concluded earnestly, "I'll do what I can for her--to free her from this coil. You have my word."

She moved to the door before making any response. With her hand on the knob she turned and faced him again.

"God aid you," she whispered, and was gone.