XX
The scene which met our view as we halted in one of the arches overlooking the court was one for which we sought in vain for full explanation.
The casket had been placed and a man stood near it, holding the lid which he had evidently just taken off, probably at some one’s request. But it was not upon the casket or the man that our glances became instantly focused. Grief has its call but terror dominates grief, and terror stood embodied before us in the figure of the girl Martha, who with staring eyes and pointing finger bade us “Look! look!” crouching as the words left her lips and edging fearfully away.
Look? look at what? She had appeared to indicate the silent form in the casket. But that could not be. The death of the old is sad but not terrible; she must have meant something else, something which we could not perceive from where we stood.
Leaning further forward, I forced my gaze to follow hers and speedily became aware that the others were doing the same and that it was inside the casket itself that they were all peering and with much the same appearance of consternation Martha herself had shown.
Something was wrong there; and alive to the effect which this scene must have upon Orpha, I turned her way just in time to catch her as she fell back from the marble balustrade she had been clutching in her terror.
“Oh, what is it? what is it?” she moaned, her eyes meeting mine for the first time in days.
“I will go and see, if you think you can stand alone.”
“Wealthy will take care of me,” she murmured, as another arm than mine drew her forcibly away.
But I did not go on the instant for just then Martha spoke again and we heard in tones which set every heart beating tumultuously:
“Spots! Black spots on his forehead and cheek! I have seen them before—seen them on my dead brother’s face and he died from poison!”
“Wretch!” I shouted down from the gallery where I stood, in irrepressible wrath and consternation, as Orpha, escaping from Wealthy’s grasp, fell insensible at my feet. “Would you kill your young mistress!” And I stooped to lift Orpha, but an arm thrust across her pushed me inexorably back.
“Would you blame the girl for what you yourself have brought upon us?” came in a hiss to my ear.
And staring into Wealthy’s face I saw with a chill as of the grave what awaited me at the hands of Hate if no succor came from Love.