Once she inquired of Mrs. Murdock: "What ails Ailsie Dunbar? Her looks trouble me."
"Indeed, me leddy, I dinna ken. The lassie is greeting fra morning till night, and will na gie onybody ony satisfaction about it! But I will try to find out." And that was all Lady Vincent could get out of the housekeeper.
The month of November crept slowly by. And December came, darker, duller, drearier than its predecessor. And now anxiety was added to Claudia's other troubles. She had not heard from her father.
The monotony, deepened by suspense, grew horrible. She wished for an earthquake, or an inundation—anything to break the dreadful spell that bound her, to burst the tomb of her buried life and let in air and light.
Sometimes she overheard the precious pair of friends who shared her home murmuring their sinful nonsense together; and she was disgusted.
And sometimes she heard them in angry and jealous altercation; and she grew insane, and wished from the bottom of her heart that one might murder the other, if it were only to break the horrible monotony of the castle life, by bringing into it the rabble rout of inspectors, constables, coroners, and juries. At length there came a day when that frenzied wish was gratified.
CHAPTER XX
A LINK IN CLAUDIA'S FATE.
For who knew, she thought, what the amazement,
The irruption of clatter and blaze meant.
And if, in this minute of wonder,
No outlet 'mid lightning and thunder,
Lay broad and her shackles all shivered,
The captive at length was delivered?
—Robert Browning.
Claudia had awakened one morning with one of those nervous headaches that were becoming habitual to her. She had taken a narcotic sedative and gone to sleep again, and slept throughout the day.