“You see how it is.”
“Nothing uncommon; but that virulence is a bad symptom,” answered the Spaniard, and closing the door locked it, having dexterously removed the key from within.
I had never been subjected to restraint of any kind; it made me reckless at once, for this last indignity was not to be endured.
“Open this instantly!” I commanded, shaking the door. No one answered, and after a few ineffectual attempts to break the lock I left it, threw up the window and looked out; the ground was too far off for a leap, but the trellis where summer-vines had clung was strong and high, a step would place me on it, a moment’s agility bring me to the terrace below. I was now in just the state to attempt any rash exploit, for the cordial had both strengthened and excited me; my foot was bandaged, my clothes still wet; I could suffer no new damage, and have my own way at small cost. Out I crept, climbed safely down, and made my way to the lodge as I had at first intended. But Guy was not there; and, returning, I boldly went in at the great door, straight to the room where my uncle and the doctor were still talking.
“I wish the key of my room,” was my brief command. Both started as if I had been a ghost, and my uncle exclaimed,—
“You here! how in Heaven’s name came you out?”
“By the window. I am no child to be confined for a fit of anger. I will not submit to it; to-morrow I shall go to madame; till then I will be mistress in my own house. Give me the key, sir.”
“Shall I?” asked the doctor of my uncle, who nodded with a whispered,—
“Yes, yes; don’t excite her again.”
It was restored, and without another word I went loftily up to my room, locked myself in, and spent a restless, miserable night. When morning came, I breakfasted above stairs, and then busied myself packing trunks, burning papers, and collecting every trifle Guy had ever given me. No one annoyed me, and I saw only Janet, who had evidently received some order that kept her silent and respectful, though her face still betrayed the same curiosity and pitiful interest as the night before. Lunch was brought up, but I could not eat, and began to feel that the exposure, the fall, and excitement of the evening had left me weak and nervous, so I gave up the idea of going to madame till the morrow; and, as the afternoon waned, tried to sleep, yet could not, for I had sent a note to several of Guy’s haunts, imploring him to see me; but my messenger brought word that he was not to be found, and my heart was too heavy to rest.