The Judge stood for a moment in speechless horror. He had never crossed her imperious will before and he was utterly unprepared for her mad outburst. He loved her with all the tenderness of which his low nature was capable, and had never seen a woman in hysterics. He had therefore no standard by which to measure how much of pure devil and how much of real suffering were mingled in her cries. Each piercing scream tore his heart. He turned helplessly to Larkin and asked: “What shall I do?”
“Excuse me Judge, I can’t advise you in such a matter,” the Carpetbagger replied. “But I think you’ll have to summon a doctor.”
“My God, is she in danger?” he asked, in a stupor of pain. “I’ll go up and see.”
He shuffled up the stairs as quickly as possible, and hurried into her room without knocking.
Stella sprang from the bed where she lay moaning, laughing and crying, and flew at him, stamping and screaming:
“Don’t you come near me. Don’t you touch me! Don’t you speak to me! Get out of this room!”
“But my dear,” stammered the Judge.
“Get out of this room—get out of this room! or I’ll jump out of that window and kill myself!” She seized him by the arm, hustled and pushed him out of the door, slammed and locked it. Again she threw herself on the bed and burst into strangling groans.
The Judge retreated to the hall below, his eyes filled with tears, his heart sick with terror. He dropped into a seat, covered his face with his hands and sat for a moment in stupid pain.
Maggie suddenly plunged down the stairs yelling: