“‘Where is she? Where did Mr. Haverleigh say the asylum was?’ he asked, and then reference was had to the letter, but the name of the place was wholly unintelligible, and after trying in vain to make it out, they gave it up and gathered what comfort they could from the apparent kindness and cordiality evinced in Mr. Haverleigh’s letter, so different from his cold, proud manner when there, Mrs. Strong remarked, and she felt her love go out toward him as to a son, and before she slept that night she wrote him a long letter, which contained many messages of love for poor Anna, and thanks to himself for his kindness and interest in her sorrowing family.
“That night there was a Thanksgiving party in the ball-room of the village hotel. It had been the custom to have one there for years, and heretofore Anna Strong had been the very prettiest girl present; and the one most sought for in the games we played, and the merry dance. But that night she was not with us, and the news that she was insane, and the inmate of a mad-house, came upon us with a heavy shock, saddening our spirits and casting a gloom over the gay scene. Poor Anna! How little we guessed the truth, or dreamed how many, many times that day her thoughts had been with us, or how, until the last ray of sunset faded, she had stood by the window of her room looking to the west, as if, with the departing daylight, she would send some message to her far-off home.
CHAPTER V.
THE NEWS WHICH CAME TO CHATEAU D’OR.
Monsieur Brunell had received a telegram saying that M. Haverleigh would visit the chateau the following day, and both Anna and Madame Verwest had received letters apprising them of his home-coming, and bidding the one see that a grand dinner was in readiness for him, and the other to array herself in her most becoming attire, as befitted a wife about to receive her husband after a separation of many months. To Anna this visit seemed more awful than anything she had yet experienced at the chateau, for as a whole her life there had not been without its pleasures. Acting upon Madame Verwest’s advice, she had tried to make the best of her position, and in acquiring the language and a knowledge of music, she had found a solace for many a weary hour which otherwise would have hung heavily upon her hands. She was fond of French and music, and had developed a remarkable talent for them both, while in the well-selected library she had found a delight she had never thought she could find in books. Madame Verwest was herself a good scholar and a clear reasoner and thinker, and in her constant companionship Anna was rapidly developing into a self-reliant woman, capable of thinking and acting for herself. She had long since given up all hope of hearing from home, unless she could find some other method of communication than through the medium of Monsieur Brunell, who took charge of every letter from the chateau, and who, when questioned upon the subject as to why no answer ever came to her, always replied that he did not know, unless her letters were lost on the voyage. He always deposited them in the post, and more than that he could not do. It was in vain that Anna had tried other methods of getting her letters to the post. It could not be done, even through Madame Verwest, who said always, ‘I would so gladly, but I dare not.’
“And so, though letter after letter had been written home, there had come to her no reply, and she guessed pretty accurately that her letters were sent directly to her husband, who, of course, destroyed them. A prisoner for life she began to fear she was, and sometimes beat her wings cruelly against her gilded cage. Haverleigh had kept his word, and every luxury in the way of service, elegant dress, and furniture was hers. All the servants were respectful and attentive, while Celine was her devoted slave. Anna could talk with her now tolerably well, and the first use she made of her knowledge was an effort to convince her maid of her sanity, and that she was kept a prisoner there to suit the whim of her husband, whom she represented as a dreadful man. But to this Celine gave no credence, though she at first smilingly assented to her young mistress’ assertion, as if it were a part of her business to humor every fancy of the poor lunatic. Once Anna was more earnest than usual, and begged her maid to say if she believed her crazy.
“‘Oui, oui,’ Celine answered, vehemently, ‘I must think it, else why are you here, shut up from the world and Paris, and monsieur is far too kind, too fond to imprison madame for naught, and yet——’
“Here Celine paused a moment, as if a new idea had just occurred to her, and then she continued:
“‘And yet it is a little strange that mademoiselle Agatha should be crazy, too, like you, and like you shut up here.’
“‘Who was Agatha?’ Anna asked; and then, little by little, she heard the story of the poor young girl from Normandy, who had died in what Celine called the ‘Ghost Room,’ with the words ‘Je vais revoir ma Normandie’ on her lips.