“I looked straight into his face. I waited till I saw I had his whole attention; then I said, as slowly and emphatically as I could: ‘If you mean Elwood—no! I shall never meet him again, except in Adelaide’s presence. He will not want to meet me. You may be at ease about that. To-morrow all will be well, and Adelaide very happy,’
“He shrugged his shoulders, and reached for his coat and hat. As he was putting them on, I said, ‘Don’t forget to harness up Jenny.’ Jenny is the grey mare. ‘And leave off the bells,’ I urged. ‘I don’t want Adelaide to hear me go out.’
“He swung about at this. ‘You and Adelaide are not very good friends it seems.’ ‘As good as you and she are,’ I answered. Then I flung my arms about him. ‘Don’t go down street to-night,’ I prayed. ‘Stay home for this one night. Stay in the house with Adelaide; stay till I come home.’ He stared, and I saw his colour change. Then he flung me off, but not rudely. ‘Why don’t you stay?’ he asked. Then he laughed, and added, ‘I’ll go harness the mare.’
“‘The key’s in the kitchen,’ I said. ‘I’ll go get it for you. I heard Zadok bring it in.’ He did not answer, and I went for the key. I found two on the nail, and I brought them both; but I only handed him one, the key to the stable-door. ‘Which way are you going?’ I asked, as he looked at the key, then back towards the kitchen. ‘The short way, of course,’ ‘Then here’s the key to the Fulton grounds,’
“As he took the key, I prayed again, ‘Don’t do what’s in your mind, Arthur. Don’t drink to-night. He only laughed, and I said my last word: ‘If you do, it will be for the last time. You’ll never drink again after to-morrow.’
“He made no answer to this, and I went slowly upstairs. Everything was quiet—quiet as death—in the whole house. If Adelaide had heard us, she made no sign. Going to my own room, I waited until I heard Arthur come out of the stable and go away by the door in the rear wall. Then I stole out again. I carried a small bag with me, but no coat or hat.
“Pausing and listening again and again, I crept downstairs and halted at the table under the rack. The keys were still there. Putting them in my bag, I searched the rack for one of my brother’s warm coats. But I took none I saw. I remembered an old one which Adelaide had put away in the closet under the stairs. Getting this, I put it on, and, finding a hat there too, I took that also; and when I had pulled it over my forehead and drawn up the collar of the coat, I was quite unrecognisable. I was going out, when I remembered there would be no light in the club-house. I had put a box of matches in my bag while I was upstairs, but I needed a candle. Slipping back, I took a candlestick and candle from the dining-room mantel, and finding that the bag would not hold them, thrust them into the pocket of the coat I wore, and quickly left the house. Jenny was in the stable, all harnessed; and hesitating no longer, I got in among the bear-skins and drove swiftly away.”
There was a moment’s silence. Carmel had paused, and was sitting with her hand on her heart, looking past judge, past jury, upon the lonely and desolate scene in which she at this moment moved and suffered. An inexpressible fatality had entered into her tones, always rich and resonant with feeling. No one who listened could fail to share the dread by which she was moved.
District Attorney Fox fumbled with his papers, and endeavoured to maintain his equanimity and show an indifference which his stern but fascinated glances at the youthful witness amply belied. He was biding his time, but biding it in decided perturbation of mind. Neither he nor any one else, unless it were Moffat, could tell whither this tale tended. While she held the straight course which had probably been laid out for her, he failed to object; but he could not prevent the subtle influence of her voice, her manner, and her supreme beauty on the entranced jury. Nevertheless, his pencil was busy; he was still sufficiently master of himself for that.
Mr. Moffat, quite aware of the effect which was being produced on every side, but equally careful to make no show of it, put in a commonplace question at this point, possibly to rouse the witness from her own abstraction, possibly to restore the judicial tone of the inquiry.