For once let the name which is assigned to the victim in place of his own proper cognomen be inscribed upon the books at Langley’s as a lunatic just received there for treatment, and that person is henceforth virtually dead to the outside world, to home and friends, and all ties that are dear to the human heart.
Down in the cold, dark grave, hidden away forever from mortal eyes, the poor wretch will not be more utterly lost to the world and its joys and sorrows.
Langley’s no longer exists. It was a blot upon the fair name of the old Crescent City, and has been removed forever from existence; but Violet, in her innocent ignorance, had never heard of such a place at all. So, as the woman stood boldly repeating her announcement that Violet had been brought to Langley’s Private Asylum for the Insane, her words did not bring their full weight of terrible meaning.
But it was bad enough for Violet to know that she was a prisoner in this place whither she had been brought without her knowledge or consent, and she turned upon the old woman with pale, wrathful face, and angry eyes flashing with indignation.
“What do you mean?” she demanded, haughtily. “Who has dared to do such a thing? Who brought me to this place, madame? Answer me, I command you!”
The old woman’s thin, compressed lips parted with a cruel smile which distorted her ugly face into still greater ugliness.
“Who? Why, who but your guardian, Mr. Warrington, to be sure? He said that you had become suddenly insane, your mind had lost its balance, and so forth; and so he decided to leave you here for a time until you came back to reason and common sense.”
Slowly the words, with their dreadful, hidden import, sunk into Violet’s mind. She began to see in a vague way the real state of the case. Of course this had all been Gilbert Warrington’s doings, and the people here no doubt believed that he had a right to dispose of her. Perhaps they really believed her to be insane. That they had deliberately aided and abetted the villain in his wicked schemes seemed too horrible to be true. She could hardly believe such depravity possible.
“Gilbert Warrington is a villain!” she said aloud, her voice trembling with indignation. “I will very soon prove his true character to the physician in charge of this place. Go and tell the physician in charge that I wish to see him, that I must see him a moment.”
A slow smile once more crept over the woman’s stolid face.