'In this room.'
My head began to swim; my heart throbbed violently. I tried to speak; it was in vain; the effort almost choked me. In the silence I could hear the music-lesson still going on in the room above. The future prima donna had done practicing her scales, and was trying her voice now in selections from Italian operas. At the moment when I first heard her she was singing the beautiful air from the
The Major—strongly affected himself by this time—was the first to break the silence.
'Sit down again,' he said; 'and pray take the easy-chair. You are very much agitated; you want rest.'
He was right. I could stand no longer; I dropped into the chair. Major Fitz-David rang the bell, and spoke a few words to the servant at the door.
'I have been here a long time,' I said, faintly. 'Tell me if I am in the way.'
'In the way?' he repeated, with his irresistible smile. 'You forget that you are in your own house!'
The servant returned to us, bringing with him a tiny bottle of champagne and a plateful of delicate little sugared biscuits.
'I have had this wine bottled expressly for the ladies,' said the Major. 'The biscuits came to me direct from Paris. As a favor to
It was impossible to hint more delicately at the one request which I now had it in my mind to make to him. I took his hand and pressed it gratefully.
'The tranquillity of my whole life to come is at stake,' I said. 'When I am left here by myself, does your generous sympathy permit me to examine everything in the room?'
He signed to me to drink the champagne and eat a biscuit before he gave his answer.
'This is serious,' he said. 'I wish you to be in perfect possession of yourself. Restore your strength—and then I will speak to you.'
I did as he bade me. In a minute from the time when I drank it the delicious sparkling wine had begun to revive me.
'Is it your express wish,' he resumed, 'that I should leave you here by yourself to search the room?'
'It is my express wish,' I answered.
'I take a heavy responsibility on myself in granting your request. But I grant it for all that, because I sincerely believe—as you believe—that the tranquillity of your life to come depends on your discovering the truth.' Saying those words, he took two keys from his pocket. 'You will naturally feel a suspicion,' he went on, 'of any locked doors that you may find here. The only locked places in the room are the doors of the cupboards under the long book- case, and the door of the Italian cabinet in that corner. The small key opens the book-case cupboards; the long key opens the cabinet door.'
With that explanation, he laid the keys before me on the table.
'Thus far,' he said, 'I have rigidly respected the promise which I made to your husband. I shall continue to be faithful to my promise, whatever may be the result of your examination of the room. I am bound in honor not to assist you by word or deed. I am not even at liberty to offer you the slightest hint. Is that understood?'
'Certainly!'
'Very good. I have now a last word of warning to give you—and then I have done. If you do by any chance succeed in laying your hand on the clew, remember this—
'I thank you for your warning, Major. I must face the consequences of making the discovery, whatever they may be.'
'You are positively resolved?'
'Positively.'
'Very well. Take any time you please. The house, and every person in it, are at your disposal. Ring the bell once if you want the man-servant. Ring twice if you wish the housemaid to wait on you. From time to time I shall just look in myself to see how you are going on. I am responsible for your comfort and security, you know, while you honor me by remaining under my roof.'
He lifted my hand to his lips, and fixed a last attentive look on me.
'I hope I am not running too great a risk,' he said—more to himself than to me. 'The women have led me into many a rash action in my time. Have
With those ominous last words he bowed gravely and left me alone in the room.
CHAPTER X. THE SEARCH.
THE fire burning in the grate was not a very large one; and the outer air (as I had noticed on my way to the house) had something of a wintry sharpness in it that day.
Still, my first feeling, when Major Fitz-David left me, was a feeling of heat and oppression, with its natural result, a difficulty in breathing freely. The nervous agitation of the time was, I suppose, answerable for these sensations. I took off my bonnet and mantle and gloves, and opened the window for a little while. Nothing was to be seen outside but a paved courtyard, with a skylight in the middle, closed at the further end by the wall of the