"You will have to sign the papers before you come down-stairs. Mr. Bainrothe told me to say this to you, and to ask you to have them ready; they will be witnessed below with the marriage, and at nine, precisely, expect me to appear with your gown, and make your toilet."
"Will not Bridget Maloney do as well?" I asked, desperately. She, at least, I thought, may be compassionate.
"It is strange you should know of her at all, or she of you. It is that girl, then, who has given us all this trouble," going to the bed, "when I did not suppose she knew of her existence. Explain this, Clayton, if you can."
"I suppose Ernie, who is fond of her, has mentioned her name to Miss Monfort; she thinks his mother is sick up-stairs, but knows no more, I am certain; besides, it's Dr. Englehart's establishment—such things are to be expected, and surprise no one of the attendants. Bridget is kept busy among them all." The farce was to be kept up, it seemed, to the end.
Old Dinah was evidently quaking in her shoes, and began to see her error, as she glanced reproachfully at me, but no further revelation seemed to be expected. It was, indeed, to divert, partly, immediate suspicion from one I still hoped to make my tool, that I mentioned the Irish girl at all, or craved her presence, but I soon found how futile in one instance was this trust. No sooner had Mrs. Raymond turned to depart, than Dinah followed her, protesting against being locked up the whole evening with the invalid, and begging leave to go out for an hour or two on business of her own, which she declared important.
"But Miss Monfort may need you in making her preparations," remonstrated Mrs. Raymond, "and Clayton and Ernie will want your attention; besides, fires will go down if not constantly mended, this cold evening."
"Dar's plenty of coal in de box, an' de tongs, wid claws, wat Ernie is so fond of handling ready and waitin' for dem wat's strong enough to use dem if dey choose, an' tea in de caddy, an' de kittle on de trivet, jes filled up, de brass toastin'-fork on de peg in de closet, 'sides bread an' butter, an' jam, an' new milk on de shelf, an' I is 'bliged to go anyway, case my ticklerest friend am dyin' ob de numony—I is jes got word; but at nine o'clock" (and she looked maliciously at me) "percisely Dinah'll be in dis pickin' patch—he! he! he! can't possumbly cum no airlier."
In a flash I saw the advantage her prolonged absence would give me, unless, indeed, she had become my confederate, so I beheld her depart with a feeling of relief which reacted in the next moment to positive helplessness and terror as the bolt was drawn, behind her. What could I do? What was there to be done? For a time I sat mute and crushed by consideration; then casting myself on my bed I slept for half an hour, the kind of slumber that confusion generates, and yet I woke refreshed, calmed, comforted, and with a clearly-formed resolution and plan of action. I rose and approached Mrs. Clayton, whose groans, perhaps, aroused me, and, as I stood beside her bed, the clock in the dining room-below struck six. I had still three hours for hope—for endeavor, before the circle of flame should close hopelessly around me forever! Three hours—were they not enough? Could I not compel them to concentration?
A cup of strong tea was hastily drawn and swallowed—another made for, and administered by my hand to, Mrs. Clayton, with toast ad libitum—a tedious process—and afterward Ernie's supper prepared and eaten—all in less than half an hour. By seven he was in bed and asleep, and I had taken my seat by Mrs. Clayton, for the purpose, apparently, of merciful ministry to her condition—a piece of self-abnegation, as it seemed, and as she felt it, scarcely to be expected on my blissful marriage-night.
"I feel very sorry for you; you suffer so, Mrs. Clayton," I had said, as I drew a chair beside her bed.