Andrew bent until his face nearly touched Mary’s. “Yes, woman!” he repeated. “By what other name shall I call you? Do you know that I am going mad? That a thousand demons are whispering horrible things into my ears? Do you know that you have helped to rob me of the only thing I ever loved on earth? Great God! What shall I do if I have lost her!”
Andrew’s mad ravings were too much for Mary’s already overtaxed nerves, and without a word, but with a horror in her eyes which Andrew never forgot, she fell as one dead at his feet. In an instant Andrew’s passion cooled. He took his mother in his arms and bore her to her room. The drawn look about her mouth frightened him. Something peculiar in the set lines of her face warned him that this was more than a mere fainting fit. He rang for assistance and sent a man on the swiftest horse for medical aid. When it came Mary was beyond all earthly cares and sorrows. Kind and willing hands labored unceasingly for hours over the still form, but to no purpose. Life had fled, and when Lady Vale left “The Gables,” she knew not that the soul of its beloved mistress had also left it never to return, nor did she know, until months had passed.
Roger seemed stupefied at this awful blow which had fallen without warning, and helplessly clung to Victoria, who roused herself to act when she divined the truth. It was she who thought of everything, proving herself such a treasure that Andrew’s admiration grew, and even in his sorrow at his mother’s death, his scheming brain was busily trying to divine how best to separate Roger from the girl who he would not acknowledge was his brother’s wife. She was his own still. He had proved that in Roger’s very presence, by merely taking her hand in his and stroking it gently, while he spoke of what great pleasure it gave him to welcome her as a sister. What comfort would be Roger’s with such a loving companion, and although their mother’s death had been most untimely, she must not regard it as an evil omen following so closely upon the marriage. All the while he talked he noticed with satisfaction that she did not shrink from his touch, but gradually leaned toward him until her head rested upon his shoulder, and she lay passive in his arms. He looked over to Roger whose sorrowful face and sightless eyes should have appealed to his heart, but Andrew had no heart, except where his own interests were concerned, and he looked at his brother, so unconscious of the wrong he was doing him, and thought how he would stab him through this fair creature who was controlled by his will to do his bidding, and who would not disobey him, even though he told her to kill the husband whom she adored.
BOOK THE SECOND.
CHAPTER I.
FIFTEEN YEARS LATER.
“The Five Gables” is not much the worse for the wear and tear of fifteen summers and winters. It still stands an irregular shape on the high bluff looking down on its humbler neighbors as if proud of its ugly magnificence. But if the mansion has not changed, can the same be said of the dwellers therein? Let us see. No one will forbid us walking up the steps of the porch, and entering the low window which leads into what seems to be a study and library in one. A man sits at an open desk busily engaged in writing. His black hair is plentifully streaked with grey. His face, although not old, has deep lines graven upon it which ought not to be seen on any but one bowed down with a weight of sin. His eyes are peculiarly sad, and have a hunted look, strange in its intensity, as he looks up from his writing to welcome a tall, fair woman, who opens the door and comes swiftly to his side, laying a white hand on his shoulder. “Still pouring over those old law papers, Andrew?” she said, playfully placing her other hand over the closely written sheets of foolscap. “Why you are making an old man of yourself, working so persistently, you spend the greater part of your time in this musty old study. Every night you have a repast served to you here, and I am sure there are times when you do not retire until the wee small hours. Why do you toil so laboriously? Surely we have an abundance of riches, more than we can ever use. Then why not take a little recreation occasionally? I scarcely see you except at meal hours, and very often those too are spent by you here.”
Andrew turned his head and pressed his lips to the hand still resting on his shoulder. “Have I been so lacking in husbandly care, that you are forced to complain of being neglected, my dear wife? Forgive me, sweet one. Come in front of me that I may see your face. Ah, there is a little frown upon it which must be charmed away.” He rose and pressed an arm around her, playfully tapping the tiny wrinkles on her forehead. She laughed and pointed to the papers. “But you are evading my question, Andrew. Is it necessary that you should dig and delve amongst these musty old things the greater part of your time?”
“Highly necessary, my sweet wife, or I should not do it, rest assured of that; but I hope to be soon through.”
“Ah, but you said that seven years ago. I don’t see as you are any nearer through than then. Many people have remarked to me of your altered appearance. Mrs. Bradley said yesterday, that you look like a man who has a secret grief. Is there anything troubling you, Andrew? If there is, can I know and share it with you?”