She had never been through the baize door, and as Honora held it for her to pass she felt for a moment as if trespassing upon forbidden ground. But the door swung to behind her. She was shut into a narrow hall, with two doors on the right hand side, and one of them ajar. The mystery she was going to confront was beyond that door, she knew, for a moaning cry of “Let me go to her, I tell you,” met her ear, and made her draw a little closer to Honora, who said to her, reassuringly, “There is nothing to fear; she is perfectly harmless.”
“Yes; but tell me, please, who it is,” Magdalen said, clutching the arm of the girl, who replied:
“Oh, I supposed you knew. It is Mrs. Grey.”
Magdalen’s conjectures were correct, and she went fearlessly up to the door, which Honora opened wide and then shut behind her, leaving her standing just across the threshold in the room which held the Mystery at Beechwood.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
MAGDALEN AND THE MYSTERY.
A mystery no longer, but a living, breathing, panting woman, with wild, rolling eyes, masses of jet-black hair streaked with gray streaming down her back, and long white arms and hands, which beat the air helplessly as she tried to escape from the firm grasp of her attendant, Mrs. Jenks. It was Magdalen’s first close contact with a maniac, and she drew back a step or two, appalled by the wild outcry with which the woman greeted her, and the desperate spring she made toward the spot where she was standing. For an instant she was tempted to flee from the room, but Mrs. Jenks had her patient under control by virtue of superior strength. There was no escaping from the vice-like grasp of her strong arms, and so Magdalen stood still and gazed spellbound upon the terrible spectacle.
“Come nearer and see what effect your speaking to her will have. She has asked for you all night; she will not hurt you,” Mrs. Jenks said, and Magdalen went up to the poor, restless, tossing creature, and sitting down upon the bed took in her own the hot hand which was extended toward her.
“Can I do anything for you, Mrs. Grey?” she said, softly caressing the wasted hand which held hers so tightly.
Quick as lightning a gleam of anger shot from the black eyes as the woman replied: