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TO all appearances, things went on as usual for a week or two. The
only difference was that Mr. Brympton stayed on, instead of going
off as he usually did, and that Mr. Ranford never showed himself. I
heard Mr. Brympton remark on this one afternoon when he was sitting
in my mistress's room before dinner.
"Where's Ranford?" says he. "He hasn't been near the house for a
week. Does he keep away because I'm here?"
Mrs. Brympton spoke so low that I couldn't catch her answer.
"Well," he went on, "two's company and three's trumpery; I'm sorry
to be in Ranford's way, and I suppose I shall have to take myself
off again in a day or two and give him a show." And he laughed at
his own joke.
The very next day, as it happened, Mr. Ranford called. The footman
said the three were very merry over their tea in the library, and
Mr. Brympton strolled down to the gate with Mr. Ranford when he
left.
I have said that things went on as usual; and so they did with the
rest of the household; but as for myself, I had never been the same
since the night my bell had rung. Night after night I used to lie
awake, listening for it to ring again, and for the door of the
locked room to open stealthily. But the bell never rang, and I heard
no sound across the passage. At last the silence began to be more
dreadful to me than the most mysterious sounds. I felt that
_someone_ were cowering there, behind the locked door, watching and
listening as I watched and listened, and I could almost have cried
out, "Whoever you are, come out and let me see you face to face, but
don't lurk there and spy on me in the darkness!"
Feeling as I did, you may wonder I didn't give warning. Once I very
nearly did so; but at the last moment something held me back.
Whether it was compassion for my mistress, who had grown more and
more dependent on me, or unwillingness to try a new place, or some
other feeling that I couldn't put a name to, I lingered on as if
spell-bound, though every night was dreadful to me, and the days but
little better.
For one thing, I didn't like Mrs. Brympton's looks. She had never
been the same since that night, no more than I had. I thought she
would brighten up after Mr. Brympton left, but though she seemed
easier in her mind, her spirits didn't revive, nor her strength
either. She had grown attached to me, and seemed to like to have me
about; and Agnes told me one day that, since Emma Saxon's death, I
was the only maid her mistress had taken to. This gave me a warm
feeling for the poor lady, though after all there was little I could
do to help her.
After Mr. Brympton's departure, Mr. Ranford took to coming again,
though less often than formerly. I met him once or twice in the
grounds, or in the village, and I couldn't but think there was a
change in him too; but I set it down to my disordered fancy.
The weeks passed, and Mr. Brympton had now been a month absent. We
heard he was cruising with a friend in the West Indies, and Mr. Wace
said that was a long way off, but though you had the wings of a dove
and went to the uttermost parts of the earth, you couldn't get away
from the Almighty. Agnes said that as long as he stayed away from
Brympton, the Almighty might have him and welcome; and this raised a
laugh, though Mrs. Blinder tried to look shocked, and Mr. Wace said
the bears would eat us.
We were all glad to hear that the West Indies were a long way off,
and I remember that, in spite of Mr. Wace's solemn looks, we had a
very merry dinner that day in the hall. I don't know if it was
because of my being in better spirits, but I fancied Mrs. Brympton
looked better too, and seemed more cheerful in her manner. She had
been for a walk in the morning, and after luncheon she lay down in
her room, and I read aloud to her. When she dismissed me I went to
my own room feeling quite bright and happy, and for the first time
in weeks walked past the locked door without thinking of it. As I
sat down to my work I looked out and saw a few snow-flakes falling.
The sight was pleasanter than the eternal rain, and I pictured to
myself how pretty the bare gardens would look in their white mantle.
It seemed to me as if the snow would cover up all the dreariness,
indoors as well as out.
The fancy had hardly crossed my mind when I heard a step at my side.
I looked up, thinking it was Agnes.
"Well, Agnes--" said I, and the words froze on my tongue; for there,
in the door, stood Emma Saxon.
I don't know how long she stood there. I only know I couldn't stir
or take my eyes from her. Afterward I was terribly frightened, but
at the time it wasn't fear I felt, but something deeper and quieter.
She looked at me long and long, and her face was just one dumb
prayer to me--but how in the world was I to help her? Suddenly she
turned, and I heard her walk down the passage. This time I wasn't
afraid to follow--I felt that I must know what she wanted. I sprang
up and ran out. She was at the other end of the passage, and I
expected her to take the turn toward my mistress's room; but instead
of that she pushed open the door that led to the backstairs. I
followed her down the stairs, and across the passageway to the back
door. The kitchen and hall were empty at that hour, the servants
being off duty, except for the footman, who was in the pantry. At
the door she stood still a moment, with another look at me; then she
turned the handle, and stepped out. For a minute I hesitated. Where
was she leading me to? The door had closed softly after her, and I
opened it and looked out, half-expecting to find that she had
disappeared. But I saw her a few yards off, hurrying across the
court-yard to the path through the woods. Her figure looked black
and lonely in the snow, and for a second my heart failed me and I
thought of turning back. But all the while she was drawing me after
her; and catching up an old shawl of Mrs. Blinder's I ran out into
the open.
Emma Saxon was in the wood-path now. She walked on steadily, and I
followed at the same pace, till we passed out of the gates and
reached the high-road. Then she struck across the open fields to the
village. By this time the ground was white, and as she climbed the
slope of a bare hill ahead of me I noticed that she left no
foot-prints behind her. At sight of that, my heart shrivelled up
within me, and my knees were water. Somehow, it was worse here than
indoors. She made the whole countryside seem lonely as the grave,
with none but us two in it, and no help in the wide world.
Once I tried to go back; but she turned and looked at me, and it was
as if she had dragged me with ropes. After that I followed her like
a dog. We came to the village, and she led me through it, past the
church and the blacksmith's shop, and down the lane to Mr.
Ranford's. Mr. Ranford's house stands close to the road: a plain
old-fashioned building, with a flagged path leading to the door
between box-borders. The lane was deserted, and as I turned into it,
I saw Emma Saxon pause under the old elm by the gate. And now
another fear came over me. I saw that we had reached the end of our
journey, and that it was my turn to act. All the way from Brympton I
had been asking myself what she wanted of me, but I had followed in
a trance, as it were, and not till I saw her stop at Mr. Ranford's
gate did my brain begin to clear itself. It stood a little way off
in the snow, my heart beating fit to strangle me, and my feet frozen
to the ground; and she stood under the elm and watched me.
I knew well enough that she hadn't led me there for nothing. I felt
there was something I ought to say or do--but how was I to guess
what it was? I had never thought harm of my mistress and Mr.
Ranford, but I was sure now that, from one cause or another, some
dreadful thing hung over them. _She_ knew what it was; she would
tell me if she could; perhaps she would answer if I questioned her.
It turned me faint to think of speaking to her; but I plucked up
heart and dragged myself across the few yards between us. As I did
so, I heard the house-door open, and saw Mr. Ranford approaching. He
looked handsome and cheerful, as my mistress had looked that
morning, and at sight of him the blood began to flow again in my
veins.
"Why, Hartley," said he, "what's the matter? I saw you coming down
the lane just now, and came out to see if you had taken root in the
snow." He stopped and stared at me. "What are you looking at?" he
says.
I turned toward the elm as he spoke, and his eyes followed me; but
there was no one there. The lane was empty as far as the eye could
reach.
A sense of helplessness came over me. She was gone, and I had not
been able to guess what she wanted. Her last look had pierced me to
the marrow; and yet it had not told me! All at once, I felt more
desolate than when she had stood there watching me. It seemed as if
she had left me all alone to carry the weight of the secret I
couldn't guess. The snow went round me in great circles, and the
ground fell away from me....
A drop of brandy and the warmth of Mr. Ranford's fire soon brought
me to, and I insisted on being driven back at once to Brympton. It
was nearly dark, and I was afraid my mistress might be wanting me. I
explained to Mr. Ranford that I had been out for a walk and had been
taken with a fit of giddiness as I passed his gate. This was true
enough; yet I never felt more like a liar than when I said it.
When I dressed Mrs. Brympton for dinner she remarked on my pale
looks and asked what ailed me. I told her I had a headache, and she
said she would not require me again that evening, and advised me to
go to bed.
It was a fact that I could scarcely keep on my feet; yet I had no
fancy to spend a solitary evening in my room. I sat downstairs in
the hall as long as I could hold my head up; but by nine I crept
upstairs, too weary to care what happened if I could but get my head
on a pillow. The rest of the household went to bed soon afterward;
they kept early hours when the master was away, and before ten I
heard Mrs. Blinder's door close, and Mr. Wace's soon after.
It was a very still night, earth and air all muffled in snow. Once
in bed I felt easier, and lay quiet, listening to the strange noises
that come out in a house after dark. Once I thought I heard a door
open and close again below: it might have been the glass door that
led to the gardens. I got up and peered out of the window; but it
was in the dark of the moon, and nothing visible outside but the
streaking of snow against the panes.
I went back to bed and must have dozed, for I jumped awake to the
furious ringing of my bell. Before my head was clear I had sprung
out of bed, and was dragging on my clothes. _It is going to happen
now_, I heard myself saying; but what I meant I had no notion. My
hands seemed to be covered with glue--I thought I should never get
into my clothes. At last I opened my door and peered down the
passage. As far as my candle-flame carried, I could see nothing
unusual ahead of me. I hurried on, breathless; but as I pushed open
the baize door leading to the main hall my heart stood still, for
there at the head of the stairs was Emma Saxon, peering dreadfully
down into the darkness.
For a second I couldn't stir; but my hand slipped from the door, and
as it swung shut the figure vanished. At the same instant there came
another sound from below stairs--a stealthy mysterious sound, as of
a latch-key turning in the house-door. I ran to Mrs. Brympton's room
and knocked.
There was no answer, and I knocked again. This time I heard some one
moving in the room; the bolt slipped back and my mistress stood
before me. To my surprise I saw that she had not undressed for the
night. She gave me a startled look.
"What is this, Hartley?" she says in a whisper. "Are you ill? What
are you doing here at this hour?"
"I am not ill, madam; but my bell rang."
At that she turned pale, and seemed about to fall.
"You are mistaken," she said harshly; "I didn't ring. You must have
been dreaming." I had never heard her speak in such a tone. "Go back
to bed," she said, closing the door on me.
But as she spoke I heard sounds again in the hall below: a man's
step this time; and the truth leaped out on me.
"Madam," I said, pushing past her, "there is someone in the house--"
"Someone--?"
"Mr. Brympton, I think--I hear his step below--"
A dreadful look came over her, and without a word, she dropped flat
at my feet. I fell on my knees and tried to lift her: by the way she
breathed I saw it was no common faint. But as I raised her head
there came quick steps on the stairs and across the hall: the door
was flung open, and there stood Mr. Brympton, in his
travelling-clothes, the snow dripping from him. He drew back with a
start as he saw me kneeling by my mistress.
"What the devil is this?" he shouted. He was less high-colored than
usual, and the red spot came out on his forehead.
"Mrs. Brympton has fainted, sir," said I.
He laughed unsteadily and pushed by me. "It's a pity she didn't
choose a more convenient moment. I'm sorry to disturb her, but--"
I raised myself up, aghast at the man's action.
"Sir," said I, "are you mad? What are you doing?"
"Going to meet a friend," said he, and seemed to make for the
dressing-room.
At that my heart turned over. I don't know what I thought or feared;
but I sprang up and caught him by the sleeve.
"Sir, sir," said I, "for pity's sake look at your wife!"
He shook me off furiously.
"It seems that's done for me," says he, and caught hold of the
dressing-room door.
At that moment I heard a slight noise inside. Slight as it was, he
heard it too, and tore the door open; but as he did so he dropped
back. On the threshold stood Emma Saxon. All was dark behind her,
but I saw her plainly, and so did he. He threw up his hands as if to
hide his face from her; and when I looked again she was gone.
He stood motionless, as if the strength had run out of him; and in
the stillness my mistress suddenly raised herself, and opening her
eyes fixed a look on him. Then she fell back, and I saw the
death-flutter pass over her....
We buried her on the third day, in a driving snow-storm. There were
few people in the church, for it was bad weather to come from town,
and I've a notion my mistress was one that hadn't many near friends.
Mr. Ranford was among the last to come, just before they carried her
up the aisle. He was in black, of course, being such a friend of the
family, and I never saw a gentleman so pale. As he passed me, I
noticed that he leaned a trifle on a stick he carried; and I fancy
Mr. Brympton noticed it too, for the red spot came out sharp on his
forehead, and all through the service he kept staring across the
church at Mr. Ranford, instead of following the prayers as a mourner
should.
When it was over and we went out to the graveyard, Mr. Ranford had
disappeared, and as soon as my poor mistress's body was underground,
Mr. Brympton jumped into the carriage nearest the gate and drove off
without a word to any of us. I heard him call out, "To the station,"
and we servants went back alone to the house.
THE END.
The Lady's Maid's Bell
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