If I had needed to exercise my self-restraint on that other evening when she attempted to provoke me, it was much more necessary now, for she had become less differentiated, intellectually, from Joy; so much so, at least, as to permit me at times to give my imagination play, and fancy her, for the moment, the real Joy, my Joy in an alluring guise, tinctured with wild-fire. The line of cleavage now was more along moral lines. Edna's mind was evolving at the expense of her ethical nature. Her temptation was seductive and arrantly conceived to torment me; I was sure that it was intended to shake my allegiance to her rival self. It was like playing with edged tools to be alone with her. In her intervals of repose she fell so naturally into Joy's poses that it was disconcerting. It was like The Faerie Queene over again; like an errant knight, I was confronted by the image of my mistress so cunningly enchanted that I could not tell till she spoke that her body was obsessed by another spirit.
She asked me much about the day before, and about what she had done and said. As the evening wore on and she could not defeat my continual evasions, she began to grow sullen and reserved. Finally, she appeared to give it up, and went up-stairs with a sarcastic emphasis to her "Good night, Prig!"
VI
Next morning I lay in bed for some time after I awoke, planning my day. If it were Joy who appeared, there were several things to be decided upon and accomplished; if Edna, a conflict was imminent which caused me much anxiety. Queerly enough, the proposal I would have to make to Joy seemed almost as if it would be an ex post facto agreement. I had already announced my engagement to the doctor, but I had not made my bluff without holding a pretty good hand. I couldn't doubt, by this time, how Joy felt toward me.
At eight o'clock I heard the customary dialogue—Miss Fielding's door being still left ajar—but I noticed that her voice was quick and excited. Leah was called in immediately, and the two women seemed to have more than the usual amount of talk together.
Next, I heard the dogs barking in answer to their names; but there were only three replies to Joy's calls, to-day. Poor old Nokomis would never greet her mistress again. Then the door was closed. Joy evidently did not wait to have breakfast, as usual, in her room, for fifteen minutes later I heard her going down-stairs.
Fearing that something was wrong, though I was sure, now, that it was Joy herself whom I had heard, I rose and dressed as quickly as I could. I found her in the library waiting for me.
She held a folded paper in her hand, as she sat by the window, looking out listlessly. I bade her good morning; she looked up without a smile and silently handed me the paper. Unfolding it, I saw, written in a round, childish, vertical script, the words:
"I know you now—Cat!"
"I found this pinned to my pillow when I woke up," she said. "It's from Edna." Then a faint, dreamy smile softened her lips as she said, "You see, even to her, I am the White Cat!"