But this she did not like to exhibit, partly because he might misunderstand her feelings, and partly because he seemed irritated at being unwell, and at loss of power; irritated, at all events, at it being observed that he was not in his usual plenitude of strength and health.

That night the Atlantic was troubled, and the wind carried the billows against the cliffs in a succession of rhythmic roars that filled the air with sound and made the earth quiver. Judith could not sleep, she listened to the thud of the water-heaps flung against the rocks; there was a clock on the stairs and in her wakefulness she listened to the tick of the clock, and the boom of the waves, now coming together, then one behind the other, now the wave-beat catching up the clock-tick, then falling in arrear, the ocean getting angry and making up its pace by a double beat. Moreover flakes of foam were carried on the wind and came, like snow, against her window that looked seaward striking the gla.s.s and adhering to it.

As Judith lay watchful in the night her mind again recurred to the packet of a.r.s.enic that had been abstracted from her workbox. It was inconsiderate of her to have left it there; she ought to have locked her box. But who could have supposed that anyone would have gone to the box, raised the tray and searched the contents of the compartment beneath? Judith had been unaccustomed to lock up anything, because she had never had any secrets to hide from any eye. She again considered the probability of her aunt having removed it, and then it occurred to her that perhaps Miss Trevisa might have supposed that she--Judith--in a fit of revolt against the wretchedness of her life might be induced to take the poison herself and finish her miseries. "It was absurd if Aunt Dunes thought that," said Judith to herself; "she can little have known how my dear Papa's teaching has sunk into my heart, to suppose me capable of such a thing--and then--to run away like a coward and leave Jamie unprotected. It was too absurd."

Next morning Judith was in her room getting a large needle with which to hem a bit of carpet edge that had been fraying for the last five years, and which no one had thought of putting a thread to, and so arresting the disintegration. Jamie was in the room. Judith said to him:

"My dear, you have not been skinning and stuffing any birds lately, have you?"

"No, Ju."

"Because I have missed--but, Jamie, I hope you have not been at my workbox?"

"What about your workbox, Ju?"

She knew the boy so well, that her suspicions were at once aroused by this answer. When he had nothing to hide he replied with a direct negative or affirmative, but when he had done what his conscience would not quite allow was right, he fell into equivocation, and shuffled awkwardly.

"Jamie," said Judith, looking him straight in the face, "have you been to my box?"

"Only just looked in."

Then he ran to the window. "Oh, do see, Ju, how patched the gla.s.s is with foam!--and is it not dirty?"

"Jamie, come back. I want an answer."

He had opened the cas.e.m.e.nt and put his hand out and was wiping off the patches of froth.

"What a lot of it there is, Ju."

"Come here, instantly, Jamie, and shut the window."

The boy obeyed, creeping toward her sideways, with his head down.

"Jamie, did you lift the tray?"

"Only on one side, just a little bit."

"Did you take anything from under the tray?"

He did not answer immediately. She looked at him searchingly and in suspense. He never could endure this questioning look of hers, and he ran to her, put his arms round her waist, and clasped to her side, hid his face in her gown.

"Only a little."

"A little what?"

"I don't know."

"Jamie, no lies. There was a blue paper there containing poison, that you were not to have unless there were occasion for it--some bird skin to be preserved and dressed with it. Now, did you take that?"

"Yes."

"Go and bring it back to me immediately."

"I can't."

"Why not? Where is it?"

The boy fidgeted, looked up in his sister's face to see what expression it bore, buried his head again, and said:

"Ju! he is rightly called Cruel. I hate him, and so do you, don't you, Ju? I have put the a.r.s.enic into his oatmeal, and we will get rid of him and be free and go away. It will be jolly."

"Jamie!" with a cry of horror.

"He won't whip me and scold you any more."

"Jamie! Oh, my Lord, have pity on him! have pity on us!"

She clasped her hands to her head, rushed from the room, and flew down the stairs.

But ten minutes before that Judith had given Coppinger his bowl of porridge. He had risen late that morning. He was better, he said, and he looked more himself than the preceding day. He was now seated at the table in the hall, and had poured the fresh milk into the bowl, had dipped the spoon, put some of the porridge to his mouth, tasted, and was looking curiously into the spoon, when the door was flung open, Judith entered, and without a word of explanation, caught the bowl from him and dashed it on the floor.

Coppinger looked at her with his boring, dark eyes intently, and said: "What is the meaning of this?"

"It is poisoned."

Judith was breathless. She drew back relieved at having cast away the fatal mess.

Coppinger rose to his feet, and glared at her across the table, leaning with his knuckles on the board. He did not speak for a moment, his face became livid, and his hands resting on the table shook as though he were shivering in an ague.

"There is a.r.s.enic in the porridge," gasped Judith.

She had not time to weigh what she should say, how explain her conduct; but one thought had held her--to save Coppinger's life while there was yet time.

The Captain's dog that had been lying at his master's feet rose, went to the spilt porridge, and began to lap the milk and devour the paste.

Neither Judith nor Coppinger regarded him.

"It was an accident," faltered Judith.

"You lie," said Coppinger, in thrilling tones, "you lie, you murderess! You sought to kill me."

Judith did not answer for a moment. She also was trembling. She had to resolve what course to pursue. She could not, she would not, betray her brother, and subject him to the worst brutality of treatment from the infuriated man whose life he had sought.

It were better for her to take the blame on herself.

"I made the porridge--I and no one else."

"You told me so, yesterday." He maintained his composure marvellously, but he was stunned by the sudden discovery of treachery in the woman he had loved and worshipped.

"You maddened me by your treatment, but I did not desire that you should die. I repented and have saved your life."