He retreated nearer the door, and all at once his malignant nature was reflected in his face. He regarded Charlotte with a look of mingled malevolence and fear, and had his been the stronger personality he might have done her violence. But as it was, his bloodless lips were drawn back in a snarl of hate and baffled purpose, although he was plainly cowed by the wrath blazing in the eloquent eyes. He made an effort, nevertheless.
"My papers," he hissed. One hand was extended, the bony fingers crooked like a vulture's claw. "My papers—Elinor, you have no right—"
"Go!"
Slade was not an Ajax to defy the lightning of that glance; without another word, with but one more glance of malice and fruitless hate, he slunk from the room—from the house—beaten and confounded.
The busy little clock on the mantel—with which time was indeed fleeting—at once became the most conspicuous object in the room; falling embers on the hearth told of a dying fire, but to unheeding ears; a gust of cool, moist air swept in through the unclosed front door, and the two women maintained unaltered positions—ten minutes—fifteen—until Charlotte felt a tremor pass through her mother. Her expression softened rapidly, and her look and tones were all gentleness and solicitude as she bowed her head to the invalid's face.
"It's all right, mamma," she said, coaxingly. "He's gone. He could not have hurt you, dear; he is too contemptible a coward." In spite of the soothing voice, her expressive upper lip involuntarily curled. "Think of something else," she went on; "think of being here—in my arms—safe." But she was distressed to see that her words and calm manner made not the least impression; that her mother was utterly deaf to them. The invalid was plainly laboring under a fixed idea which neutralized every other influence; and suddenly she thrust Charlotte away from her. It did not relieve the daughter to know that the action was involuntary; that the mother was oblivious of her presence; instead, her fears were rapidly intensified by a biting doubt of the probable result of this extraordinary excitement. The expression of fear and horror had not faded from the distended eyes, and the papers were yet clutched to her breast with a grip that left the knuckles white and bloodless.
"Mother! Don't—don't look like that!" Charlotte cried in sudden alarm. "What is it? What has that horrible man done to frighten you so? Come, dear; lay your head here, and tell me all about it. There, there; nothing can harm you, mamma dear."
Quite as abruptly as she had pushed Charlotte from herself, Mrs. Fairchild now suddenly extended toward her daughter the papers still clutched so closely by a trembling hand. Even in her nervous anxiety Charlotte remarked that there were quite a number of them, and that they were typewritten and bound, after the manner of legal documents.
"Here—child—take these!" The words came convulsively, in quick, nervous gasps. "The fire—hold them down—until the last vestige is destroyed." Her utterance rose to such a mad vehemence that the words became almost incoherent. "Don't look! Don't look at them! Burn them!—burn them!—burn them!"
Charlotte's heart was throbbing with a maddening terror, her thoughts whirling aimlessly, like a flock of frightened birds. Without warning, Mrs. Fairchild reached out and clutched both her daughter's hand and the papers together.