At last she woke with a sudden cry and looked round her with a puzzled frightened expression. Then her eyes met his, and a softer look came into them. She stretched out her arms feebly towards him and said in low half conscious tones, her mind still wandering, "Kiss me, Harry, dear;"

he kissed her--she closed her eyes and continued in an intermittent dreamy way, "My love! my love! how delicious to be with you again after so long, so long--going through the green fields hand in hand with you plucking the pretty flowers. Ah! you told me of all this happiness in those dark old days in horrible London; but I never thought they would come. Do not let me go back there! Do not leave me, Harry! I am afraid!"

She looked wildly around the room as she uttered the last words.

"Of what, my poor little pet?" he said, clasping her in his arms. "See, I am with you--there is no cause to be afraid."

"Ah! but, dear, I am afraid of all this great happiness--something will happen. See even now how clouded it is getting, and the green gra.s.s and the flowers are turning black and withering--and, oh! all those dead leaves whirling about! But I will not be afraid, I am with you. How nice to be in the fields once more with you and baby--and baby--baby! O G.o.d!"

she started up in the bed, her eyes dilated and staring in a horrible fashion. "O G.o.d, my baby! oh, they have taken away my baby--Harry!

Harry! where is my baby? She has got him at last, yes, she--that woman there--Susan Riley! Ah, my baby!" and her awful cry rang through the house and was even heard in the street, so that pa.s.sers-by stopped and turned pale at the agony of it. "Oh, my beautiful baby! oh, give me back my baby! Pity me, Susan, I kneel before you--kill me--torture me in any way, but spare my baby! What have you done with him? Oh, do not smile that cruel smile--what do you mean? Oh, murderess! murderess!"

The very extremity of her anguish prevented its continuance. After this paroxysm she appeared dazed and was quiet for some time, then her mind commenced to wander in other channels. "Mrs. King! mother! do not look so coldly at me. Pity your poor little girl! you used to love me once. I have not betrayed you, mother. I have never breathed the secret that was killing me, even to my husband. I have given you my life."

Then she closed her eyes for a few minutes. She opened them again and looked wistfully at her husband. "Harry, kiss me--am I so ugly, dear? I think they have cut off all my hair; but they said I was ugly before that. Mrs. Grimm used to say I was ugly; but you don't think so, do you, dear?"

The man put his lips to hers and his tears fell on her cheek, he could not keep them back. Then her eyes lit up with a beautiful light of great love. "Kiss me once more, dear--I am dying; one last sweet kiss from you just as I am dying. I will die as you kiss, die in your dear arms, Harry," and she stretched out her hands to him.

He clasped her softly in his arms and kissed her hot brow. She lay there with a contented smile on her lips, her eyes closed, and in a few moments she fell into a deep tranquil sleep.

He did not move his arm away lest he should disturb her, and nearly an hour pa.s.sed, and his heart became light within him, as he saw that the danger was pa.s.sing, that in all probability she would awake refreshed and calm, with a sound mind.

At last there came a gentle tap at the door, and the nurse entered.

"Please, Dr. Duncan," she said, "there is a lady downstairs who has called to see you. I told her that you were engaged--as you ordered--but she will not go: she said she must see you, that her business is of the utmost importance."

"Tell her that I cannot possibly see her just now," whispered the doctor.

The woman went out but returned in a minute or so.

"Has she not gone?" he asked, an angry look on his face.

"No, sir! she won't go; she says she will wait for you till you can see her."

"What name did she give?"

"She wouldn't give her name, sir," replied the nurse, "she says you must see her, that she has come on a matter of life and death. She says that what she has to tell you is a secret that affects Mrs. Duncan." The woman hesitated as she continued, "She told me to tell you, sir, that she can save Mrs. Duncan's life. I think she is crazy, sir; but she looks as if she were very much in earnest."

The doctor pondered for a few moments, then seeing that his wife was still in a profound sleep, he drew his arm gently from under her head, and after whispering to the nurse to remain there until he returned, he noiselessly left the room.

On entering the study he saw Catherine King standing by the fire-place, erect as of old, but with a face deadly pale.

His brain had been rendered irritable by his anxious watching, and as soon as he beheld her a great rage seized him. He said to himself that it was this woman and her crew that had tortured, maddened his little wife: and now she, the worst of all, had even dared to beard him within his own doors.

Scarcely knowing what he did, he approached her, his arm doubled menacingly, and trembling with pa.s.sion.

"What are you doing here, woman?" he cried. "Another of the accursed brood! Out, or I shall forget myself--out, I say! But no! stay here! you shall not go out," he went to the door, locked it and put the key in his pocket. "You will have to tell me what all this means before I let you go, Mrs. King."

"That is exactly what I have come here to do, Dr. Duncan," she replied quietly. She was standing firmly and proudly, meeting his furious look with a calm sad eye in which there was no wrath or fear, but a great pity.

He saw that look, and in spite of his strong prejudice against her, he felt the sympathy of it, so he checked himself and stood still, gazing at her with an expression of doubt and wonder on his face.

She spoke again: "Dr. Duncan, you will understand me soon. You altogether mistake my intentions now, and no great wonder is it that you do. Dr. Duncan, believe me, I have come to save your wife, to bring her happiness back to her, to make reparation for a great wrong, before I die."

He looked at her face and clearly perceived the signs of fatal illness on the pa.s.sion-lined features. He was touched. He felt that the woman was speaking the truth; he imagined that he might be wrong after all in his suspicions of her--she might have come as a friend and not as a foe.

"Take this chair, Mrs. King," he said kindly. "You look very tired. I apologize for my ungentlemanly rudeness, but I am off my head almost with worry and anxiety. I am very glad you have come. You can throw some light on all this. I must tell you"--and he scanned her face earnestly as he spoke--"that certain circ.u.mstances have made me suspect that you have something to do with the cause of my wife's illness."

"I have all to do with your wife's illness. I am the cause of it,"

Catherine replied, meeting his eye fearlessly. "Dr. Duncan, I have much to say to you. I will help you to understand Mary's illness. I will teach you how to ward off all danger from her for the future, and I will bring peace to her mind."

She placed her hand to her heart, as if in pain, and looked so ill that he exclaimed, "Mrs. King, you are seriously ill--you must not excite yourself--speak quietly, I entreat you."

"I know that--I am dying; but I have come to save Mary's life."

She dwelt lovingly on the beloved syllables of the girl's name, and she closed her eyes for a moment to shut out the present, as the picture of the old happy days, when her darling lived with her, rose to her memory.

Seeing how weak she was and how weary were her tones, he mixed her a draught to ease the labouring of the strained heart and persuaded her to drink it.

"I feel better now," she said with a sigh of relief. "Doctor,"--she then continued quickly as if in fear that something might occur to prevent her from completing the long explanations which was before her. "Dr.

Duncan, your wife has a secret--she cannot tell it you--it is this that troubles her."

"It is so."

"I will tell it to you."

He drew a chair to the table opposite to her, and leaning his head on his hand gazed into her face, as he listened to her narrative with so intense an attention, that he found himself holding his breath at times lest his own heart should beat too loudly, and he should miss one word.

Then she told him the whole strange story from the beginning to the end--of her scheme--its failure--of her love for Mary--of her intention to kill the girl--of her repentance at the last moment--of Susan and her crimes and plots--she omitted nothing.

When she had come to the end of it she said, "Now you know all. I dragged poor Mary into this against her will. I loved her, yet I would have destroyed her. The only wish I have left now in the world is to make atonement, to take away all this weight from her, and make her life happy. You may not believe me, but it matters not--I care not--if I can only save her."

But Dr. Duncan did believe her. He listened to her and he understood all now. He pitied the brave and generous, though misguided woman before him. In his joy at what he had heard, he forgave her everything for her great unselfish love for his darling. A crowd of thoughts rushed across his mind. He recalled many remarks of his wife that corroborated this story. He remembered how she had ever expressed love and admiration for Catherine King. Yes, this was the Secret!--and what did all this confession of Catherine mean to him? Why! that his wife had not been the victim of delusion--that she was not drifting as he so much feared, into some terrible and incurable form of insanity. Her fears had been but too reasonable--and now it needed but a few words to clear the shadow from her mind for ever! All this trouble was over now. In the excess of his delight he could bear no ill-will to the bringer of such good tidings, he could not reason calmly about her crimes and errors.

He rose from his chair, and approaching Catherine he seized her hand and said with a deep emotion, "Mrs. King, I have misjudged you. In spite of all you have confessed, I believe that you are a good--a n.o.ble woman. I should like you to consider me as your friend."

She took his proffered hand without saying a word. He continued, "Ah!

Mrs. King, you have told me what will save my darling's life. How can I thank you sufficiently?"

"You can do one thing for me," she replied anxiously.

"What is it?"

She clasped her hands together. "Oh, Dr. Duncan!" she cried imploringly, "let me see her sometimes. I must be vile in her sight, and you too must hate me, though you speak so kindly. But I will do you no more harm--you know that. I nearly brought her to ruin; but you need not fear me now.

Oh, Dr. Duncan! you do not know how I love her, how my heart yearns after her--you yourself do not love her more. I cannot live much longer--you can see that yourself. Let me see her now and then during the short remainder of my life! For your G.o.d's sake be merciful to me; have pity on me and grant me this thing!"

"Mrs. King, believe me, when I tell you that I bear you no ill-will whatever, very much the reverse indeed; and Mary has always spoken of you in terms of the deepest affection. If all goes well now, as I fully expect it will, you may come as often as you like to see Mary, and you will be really welcome. I shall be very glad if you will call to-morrow afternoon. By that time I shall have told Mary all; and I think she will be well enough to see you."

"Thank you very much, Dr. Duncan!" said Catherine simply, but with a grasp of his hand that fully expressed the depth of her grat.i.tude. "I will go now and I will come again to-morrow afternoon."