George Barr McCutcheon - "Her Weight in Gold"

Sarah Tytler - "Life of Her Most Gracious Majesty the Queen V.1."

John Lothrop Motley - "History of the United Netherlands, 1585"

Sir Richard Francis Burton - "Personal Narrative of a Pilgrimage to Al Madinah and Meccah"

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Books: The Living Link

J >> James De Mille >> The Living Link




Lady Dudleigh gave another grim smile, and then she added, "There is
that _Maltese cross_. You forget that."

"What Maltese cross?" said Sir Lionel. "I never had one. That wasn't
mine; it was Dalton's."

"But I can swear in a court of law," said Lady Dudleigh, "that this
Maltese cross was _yours_, and that it was given to you by me as a
birthday gift."

"No one will believe you!" cried Sir Lionel; "no one will believe you!"

"Why not? Will they refuse the oath of Lady Dudleigh?"

"I can show them that you are insane," said Sir Lionel, with a chuckle
at the idea, which seemed to him like a sudden inspiration.

"You will not be able to show that Reginald is insane," said she.

"Reginald?"

"Yes, Reginald," repeated Lady Dudleigh. "Reginald knows that Maltese
cross, and knows when I gave it to you. He too will be ready to swear to
that in a court of law whenever I tell him that he may do so.

"Reginald?" said Sir Lionel, in a gloomy voice. "Why, he was--a child
then."

"He was sixteen years old," said Lady Dudleigh.

This mention of Reginald seemed to crush Sir Lionel. He was silent for a
long time. Evidently he had not been prepared for this in his plans for
what he called a "fight." He sat in moody silence therefore. Once or
twice he stole a furtive glance at her, and threw upon her a look which
she did not see. It was a look full of hate and malignancy, while at the
same time there was an expression of satisfaction in his face, as though
he had conceived some new plan, which he intended to keep a secret all
to himself.

* * * * *




CHAPTER XLIV.


LADY DUDLEIGH'S DECISION.

During the remainder of that drive nothing was said by either. Sir
Lionel had his own thoughts, which, whatever they were, appeared to give
him a certain satisfaction, and his brow was more unclouded when they
reached the inn than it had been ever since the day of the trial.
Evidently the new design which he had conceived, and which remained
unuttered in his mind, was very satisfactory to him.

That evening he himself began the conversation with Lady Dudleigh, a
thing which he had not before done.

"It's all very well," said he, "for you to carry on your own plans. You
may carry them on and welcome. I won't prevent you; in fact, I can't.
It's no use to deny it; I'm in your power. You're determined to crush
me, and I must be crushed, I suppose. You are going to show to the
world the strange spectacle of a wife and a son rising up against a
husband and father, and swearing his life away. You will lead on, and
Reginald will follow. This is the education that you have given him--it
is to end in parricide. Very well; I must submit. Wife, slay your
husband! mother, lead your son to parricide! Of course you comfort your
conscience with the plea that you are doing justice. In the French
Revolution there were wives who denounced their husbands, and sons who
denounced their fathers, in the name of 'humanity,' and for the good of
the republic. So go on. See that justice be done. Come on yourself to
assassinate your husband, and bring on your parricide! Take sides with
those who have murdered your son--the son whom you bore to me, and once
loved! Unsex yourself, and become a Fury! It is useless for me to make
resistance, I suppose; and yet, woman! wife! mother! let me tell you
that on the day when you attempt to do these things, and when your son
stands by your side to help you, there will go up a cry of horror
against you from outraged humanity!"

At this Lady Dudleigh looked at him, who, as usual, averted his eyes;
but she made no reply.

"Bring him on!" said Sir Lionel--"your son--my son--the parricide! Do
your worst. But at the same time allow me to inform you, in the mildest
manner in the world, that if I am doomed, there is no reason why I
should go mad in this infernal hole. What is more, I do not intend to
stay here one single day longer. I'm not going to run away. That is
impossible; you keep too sharp a look-out altogether. I'm simply going
away from this place of horrors, and I rather think I'll go home. I'll
go home--yes, home. Home is the place for me--Dudleigh Manor, where I
first took you, my true wife--that is the place for me to be in when you
come to me, you and your son, to hand me over, Judas-like, to death.
Yes, I'm going home, and if you choose to accompany me, why, all that I
can say is, I'll have to bear it."

"I'll go," said Lady Dudleigh, laconically.

"Oh, of course," said Sir Lionel, "quite a true wife; like Ruth and
Naomi. Whither thou goest, I will go. You see, I'm up in my Bible. Well,
as I said, I can not prevent you, and I suppose there is no need for me
to tell you to get ready."

Whether under these bitter taunts Lady Dudleigh writhed or not did not
at all appear. She seemed as cool and calm as ever. Perhaps she had so
schooled her nature that she was able to repress all outward signs of
emotion, or perhaps she had undergone so much that a taunt could have no
sting for her, or perhaps she had already contemplated and familiarized
herself with all these possible views of her conduct to such an extent
that the mention of them created no emotion. At any rate, whatever she
felt, Sir Lionel saw nothing.

Having discharged this shot, Sir Lionel went to his desk, and taking out
writing materials, began to write a letter. He wrote rapidly, and once
or twice glanced furtively at Lady Dudleigh, as though he was fearful
that she might overlook his writing. But there was no danger of that.
Lady Dudleigh did not move from her place. She did not seem to be aware
that he was writing at all.

At length Sir Lionel finished, and then he folded, sealed, and addressed
the letter. He finished this task with a face of supreme satisfaction,
and stole a look toward Lady Dudleigh, in which there was a certain
cunning triumph very visible, though it was not seen by the one at whom
it was directed.

"And now," said he, waving the letter somewhat ostentatiously, and
speaking in a formal tone, in which there was an evident sneer--"and
now, Lady Dudleigh, I have the honor to inform you that I intend to go
out and post this letter. May I have the honor of your company as far as
the post-office, and back?"

Lady Dudleigh rose in silence, and hastily throwing on her things,
prepared to follow him. Sir Lionel waited with mocking politeness,
opened the door, for her to pass out first, and then in company with her
went to the post-office, where he mailed the letter, and returned with
the smile of satisfaction still upon his face.

Early on the next morning Lady Dudleigh saw her son. He had watched all
that night by Dalton's bedside, and seemed pale and exhausted.

"Reginald," said Lady Dudleigh, "Sir Lionel is going away."

"Going away?" repeated Reginald, absently.

"Yes; back to Dudleigh Manor."

Reginald looked inquiringly at his mother, but said nothing.

"I intend," said Lady Dudleigh, "to go with him."

"You?"

"Yes."

Reginald looked at her mournfully.

"Have you done any thing with him yet?" he asked.

Lady Dudleigh shook her head.

"Do you expect to do any thing?"

"I do."

"I'm afraid you will be disappointed."

"I hope not. I have at least gained a hold upon him, and I have
certainly worked upon his fears. If I remain with him now I hope in time
to extort from him that confession which will save us all from an
additional sorrow; one perhaps as terrible as any we have ever known, if
not even more so."

"Confession!" repeated Reginald. "How is that possible? He will never
confess--never. If he has remained silent so long, and has not been
moved by the thought of all that he has done, what possible thing can
move him? Nothing but the actual presence of the law. Nothing but
force."

"Well," said Lady Dudleigh, "it is worth trying--the other alternative
is too terrible just yet. I hope to work upon his fears. I hope to
persuade him to confess, and fly from the country to some place of
safety. Frederick must be righted at all hazards, and I hope to show
this so plainly to Sir Lionel that he will acquiesce in _my_
proposal, confess all, save Frederick, and then fly to some place where
he may be safe. If not, why, then we can try the last resort. But oh,
Reginald, do you not see how terrible that last resort is?--I against my
husband, you against your father--both of us bringing him to the
gallows! It is only the intolerable sense of Frederick's long-sufferings
that can make me think of doing so terrible a thing. But Frederick is
even now in danger. He must be saved; and the question is between the
innocent and the guilty. I am strong enough to decide differently from
what I did ten years ago."

"Oh, I know--I feel it all, mother dear," said Reginald; "but at the
same time I don't like the idea of your going away with him--alone."

"Why not?"

"I don't like the idea of your putting yourself in his power."

"His power?"

"Yes, in Dudleigh Manor, or any other place. He is desperate. He will
not shrink from any thing that he thinks may save him from this danger.
You will be his chief danger; he may think of getting rid of it. He is
unscrupulous, and would stop at nothing."

"Oh, as for that, he may be desperate, but what can he possibly do?
Dudleigh Manor is in the world. It is not in some remote place where the
master is superior to law. He can do no more harm there than he can
here."

"The man," said Reginald, "who for all these years has outraged honor
and justice and truth, and has stifled his own conscience for the sake
of his comfort, must by this time be familiar with desperate deeds, and
be capable of any crime. I am afraid, mother dear, for you to trust
yourself with him."

"Reginald," said Lady Dudleigh, "you speak as though I were a child or a
schoolgirl. Does he seem now as though he could harm me, or do I seem to
be one who can easily be put down? Would you be afraid to go with him?"

"I--afraid? That is the very thing that I wish to propose."

"But you could not possibly have that influence over him which I have.
You might threaten, easily enough, and come to an open rupture, but that
is what I wish to avoid. I wish to bring him to a confession, not so
much by direct threats as by various constraining moral influences."

"Oh, as to that," said Reginald, "I have no doubt that you will do far
better than I can; but at the same time I can not get rid of a fear
about your safety."

"And do you really think, Reginald, that I would be less safe than you?
or, from what you know of me, should you suppose that I have much of
that woman's weakness about me which might make me an easy prey to one
who wished to do me harm?"

"I know well what you are, mother dear," said Reginald, taking her hand
tenderly in both of his. "You have the tenderness of a woman and the
courage of a man; but still I feel uneasy. At any rate, promise me one
thing. You will let me know what you are doing."

"I do not promise to write regularly," said Lady Dudleigh, "but I do
promise to write the moment that any thing happens worth writing about."

"And if you are ill, or in danger?" said Reginald, anxiously.

"Oh, then, of course I shall write at once. But now I must go. I shall
not see you again for some time. Good-by."

Lady Dudleigh kissed her son tenderly as she said this, and left him,
and Reginald returned to his place by Fredrick Dalton's bedside.

That same day, shortly after this interview, Sir Lionel and Lady
Dudleigh drove away from the inn, _en route_ for Dudleigh Manor.

* * * * *




CHAPTER XLV.


LADY DUDLEIGH IS SHOWN TO HER ROOM.

After driving for about a mile Sir Lionel and Lady Dudleigh took the
train, securing a compartment to themselves.

During this part of the journey Sir Lionel's face lost much of that
gloom which of late had pervaded it, and assumed an expression which was
less dismal, though not quite like the old one. The old look was one of
serene and placid content, an air of animal comfort, and of easy-going
self-indulgence; but now the expression was more restless and excited.
There was a certain knowing look--a leer of triumphant cunning--combined
with a tendency to chuckle over some secret purpose which no one else
knew. Together with this there was incessant restlessness; he appeared
perpetually on the look-out, as though dreading discovery; and he
alternated between exultant nods of his head, with knowing winks at
vacancy, and sudden sharp furtive glances at his companion. Changed as
Sir Lionel's mood was, it can hardly be said that the change was for the
better. It would have been obvious even to a more superficial observer
than that vigilant "keeper" who accompanied him that Sir Lionel had lost
his self-poise, and was in rather a dangerous way. Lady Dudleigh must
have noticed this; but it made no difference to her, save that there was
perhaps a stonier lustre in her eyes as she turned them upon him, and a
sharper vigilance in her attitude.

In this way they rode on for several hours; and whatever Sir Lionel's
plans might have been, they certainly did not involve any action during
the journey. Had he been sufficiently violent he might have made an
assault upon his companion in the seclusion of that compartment, and
effectually prevented any trouble ever arising to him from her. He might
have done this, and made good his escape in the confusion of some
station. But no such attempt was made; and so in due time they reached
the place where they were to get out.

"This is the nearest station to Dudleigh Manor," said Sir Lionel, gayly.
"This road has been made since your time."

Lady Dudleigh said nothing, but looked around. She saw nothing that was
familiar. A neat wayside station, with the usual platform, was nearest;
and beyond this arose trees which concealed the view on one side, while
on the other there were fields and hedges, and one or two houses in the
distance. It was a commonplace scene, in a level sort of country, and
Lady Dudleigh, after one short survey, thought no more about it. It was
just like any other wayside station.

A common-looking hack, with a rather ill-dressed driver, was waiting,
and toward this Sir Lionel walked.

"This," said he, "is the Dudleigh coach. It isn't so grand an affair as
it used to be; but my means have dwindled a good deal since your day,
you know, and I have to economize--yes--ha, ha, ha!--economize--queer
thing too, isn't it? Economizing--ha, ha, ha!"

Sir Lionel's somewhat flighty manner was not at all congenial to Lady
Dudleigh, and she treated him as the vigilant "keeper" always treats his
flighty prisoner--that is, with silent patience and persistent
watchfulness.

In a few minutes they were both seated inside the coach, and were
driving away. The coach was a gloomy one, with windows only in the
doors. The rest was solid woodwork. These windows in the doors were
small, and when let down were scarcely large enough for one to put his
head through. When sitting down it was impossible for Lady Dudleigh to
see the road. She could see nothing but the tops of the trees, between
which the sky appeared occasionally. She saw that she was driving along
a road which was shaded with trees on both sides; but more than this she
could not see.

They drove for about an hour at a moderate pace, and during this time
Sir Lionel preserved that same peculiar demeanor which has already been
described, while Lady Dudleigh maintained her usual silent watchfulness.

At length they stopped for a moment. Voices sounded outside, and then
Lady Dudleigh saw that she was passing through a gateway. Thinking that
this was Dudleigh Manor, she made no remark, but calmly awaited the time
when she should reach the house. She did not have to wait long. Sooner
than she expected the coach stopped. The driver got down and opened the
door. Sir Lionel sprang out with surprising agility, and held out his
hand politely to assist his companion. She did not accept his offer, but
stepped out without assistance, and looked around.

To her surprise, the place was not Dudleigh Manor at all, but one which
was entirely different, and quite unfamiliar. It was a brick house of no
very great size, though larger than most private houses, of plain
exterior, and with the air of a public building of some sort. The
grounds about were stiff and formal and forbidding. The door was open,
and one or two men were standing there. It did not look like an inn, and
yet it certainly was not a private residence.

"I have to stop here for a little while," said Sir Lionel, "to see a
friend on business. We are not half-way to Dudleigh Manor yet; it's
further than you think."

He turned and went up the steps. Lady Dudleigh looked around once more,
and then followed him. The men at the head of the steps looked at her
curiously as she went in. She took no notice of them, however, but
walked past them, looking calmly beyond them.

On entering the house she saw a bare hall covered with slate-colored
oil-cloth, and with a table against the wall. A gray-headed man came out
of one of the rooms, and advanced to meet Sir Lionel, who shook hands
with him very cordially, and whispered to him a few words. The
gray-headed man wore spectacles, was clean shaven, with a double chin,
and a somewhat sleek and oily exterior.

"Lady Dudleigh," said Sir Lionel, leading the gray-headed man forward by
the arm, "allow me to make you acquainted with my particular friend, Dr.
Leonard Morton."

Lady Dudleigh bowed slightly, and Dr. Morton made a profound obeisance
that seemed like a caricature of politeness.

"Will you have the kindness to walk up stairs?" said he, and led the
way, while the others followed him. Ascending the stairs, they reached a
large room at the back of the house, which was furnished in the same
stiff and formal way as the hall below. Over the mantel-piece hung an
engraving, somewhat faded out, and on the table were a Bible and a
pitcher of water.

The doctor politely handed Lady Dudleigh a chair, and made one or two
remarks about the weather.

"Sir Lionel," said he, "if Lady Dudleigh will excuse us for a few
moments, I should like to speak with you in private."

"Will you have the kindness, Lady Dudleigh," asked Sir Lionel, "to
excuse us for a few moments? We shall not leave you long alone. And here
is a book--an invaluable book--with which you may occupy your time."

He said this with such exaggerated politeness, and with such a cunning
leer in his eyes, that his tone and manner were most grotesque; and as
he concluded he took up the large Bible with ridiculous solemnity.

Lady Dudleigh merely bowed in silence.

"A thousand thanks," said Sir Lionel, turning away; and thereupon he
left the room, followed by the doctor. Lady Dudleigh heard their
footsteps descending the stairs, and then they seemed to go into some
room.

For some time she forgot all about him. The place had at first
surprised her, but she gave it little thought. She had too much to think
of. She had before her a task which seemed almost impossible; and if she
failed in this, there was before her that dread alternative which Sir
Lionel had presented to her so plainly. Other things too there were
besides her husband--connected with all who were dearest to her--her
brother, perhaps, dying before he had accomplished his work; her son so
mysteriously murdered; her other son awaiting her command to assist in
bringing his father to death. Besides, there was the danger that even
now might be impending over these--the danger of discovery. Sir
Lionel's desperate threats might have some meaning, and who could tell
how it might result if he sought to carry out those threats?

Brooding over such thoughts as these, she forgot about the lapse of
time, and at last was roused to herself by the entrance of a woman. She
was large and coarse and fat.

At the door stood another woman.

"Your room's ready, missus," said the woman, bluntly.

Lady Dudleigh rose.

"I don't want a room," said she. "I intend to go in a few minutes."

"Anyway, ye'd better come to your room now, and not keep us waitin',"
said the woman.

"You needn't wait," said Lady Dudleigh.

"Come along," said the woman, impatiently. "It's no use stayin' here
all day."

Lady Dudleigh felt annoyed at this insolence, and began to think that
Sir Lionel had run away while she had forgotten about him. She said
nothing to the women, but walked toward the door. The two stood there in
the way.

"I will go down," said she, haughtily, "and wait below. Go and tell Sir
Lionel."

The women stared at one another.

[Illustration: "SHE WAS DRAGGED ALONG HELPLESSLY."]

"Sir Lionel Dudleigh," said Lady Dudleigh, "is with Dr. Morton on
business. Tell him that I am tired of waiting, or take me to the room
where he is."

"Oh yes, 'm," said one of the women; and saying this, she went down
stairs.

In a few moments Dr. Morton came up, followed by the women. The two men
who had been standing at the door came into the hall, and stood there at
the foot of the stairs.

"Where is Sir Lionel?" was Lady Dudleigh's first words.

The doctor smiled blandly.

"Well, he has just gone, you know; but he'll soon be back--oh yes, quite
soon. You wait here, and you may go to your room."

He spoke in an odd, coaxing tone, as though he were addressing some
fretful child whom it was desirable to humor.

"Gone!" exclaimed Lady Dudleigh.

"Yes, but he'll soon be back. You needn't wait long. And these women
will take you to your own room. You'll find it very pleasant."

"I have no room here," said Lady Dudleigh, haughtily. "If Sir Lionel has
gone, I shall go too;" and with these words she tried to move past the
woman who was in front of her. But the woman would not move, and the
other woman and the doctor stood there looking at her. All at once the
truth dawned upon her, or a part of the truth. She had been brought
here, and they would keep her here. Who they were she could not imagine,
but their faces were not at all prepossessing.

"Oh, it's all right," said the doctor, in a smooth voice. "You shall go
to-morrow. We'll send for Sir Lionel."

"Dr. Morton," said Lady Dudleigh, solemnly, "beware how you detain me.
Let me go, or you shall repent it. I don't know what your motive is, but
it will be a dangerous thing for you. I am Lady Dudleigh, and if you
dare to interfere with my movements you shall suffer."

"Oh yes, oh yes," said the doctor. "You are Lady Dudleigh. Oh, of
course. And now come, Lady Dudleigh; you shall be treated just like a
lady, and have a nice room, and--"

"What do you mean?" cried Lady Dudleigh, indignantly. "This insolence is
insufferable."

"Oh yes," said the doctor; "it'll be all right, you know. Come, now; go
like a good lady to your room."

"Are you mad?" exclaimed Lady Dudleigh, in amazement.

The doctor smiled and nodded.

"What do you intend to do?" asked Lady Dudleigh, restraining herself
with a strong effort.

"Oh, nothing; we shall put you in a nice room, you know--all so
pleasant--for you are not very well; and so. Susan, you just take the
lady's hand, and, Martha, you take the other, and we'll show her the way
to her room."

At this each of the women seized one of Lady Dudleigh's hands quickly
and dextrously, the result of long practice, and then they drew her out
of the room. Lady Dudleigh resisted, but her strength was useless. She
was dragged along helplessly, while all the time the doctor walked after
her, prattling in his usual way about "the nice room," and how
"comfortable" she would find it. At length they reached a room, and she
was taken in. One of the women entered with her. Lady Dudleigh looked
around, and saw that the walls were bare and whitewashed; the floor was
uncarpeted; an iron bedstead and some simple furniture were around her,
and a small grated window gave light.

It looked dreary enough, and sufficiently prison-like to appall any one
who might be thus suddenly thrust in there. Lady Dudleigh sank into a
chair exhausted, and the woman began to make her bed.

"My good woman," said Lady Dudleigh, anxious to get some clue to her
position, "can you tell me what all this means?"

"Sure it's all for the good of your health," said the woman.

"But I'm not ill."

"No, not to say ill; but the body's often all right when the mind's all
wrong."

"The mind? There's nothing the matter with my mind. Dr. Morton has been
deceived. He would not dare to do this if he knew it."

"Sure, now, it's nothing at all, and you'll be well soon."

At these simple words of the woman Lady Dudleigh began to understand the
situation. This must be a lunatic asylum, a private one. Sir Lionel had
brought her here, and told the doctor that she was insane. The doctor
had accepted his statement, and had received her as such. This at once
accounted for his peculiar mode of addressing her.

"There's a mistake," said Lady Dudleigh, quietly. "Dr. Morton has been
deceived. Let me see him at once, please, and I will explain. He does
not know what a wrong he is doing. My good woman, I am no more mad than
you are."

"Dear, dear!" said the woman, going on placidly with her work; "that's
the way they all talk. There's not one of them that believes they're
mad."