My mistress never shrank when he turned upon her.Not a sign of fear was in her face when they confronted each other.Not the faintest flush of anger came into her cheeks when he spoke.The sense of the insult and injury that he had inflicted on her, and the consciousness of knowing his guilty secret, gave her all her self-possession at that trying moment.
"I ask you again," he repeated, finding that she did not answer him, "how dare you look me in the face in the presence of that man?"She raised her steady eyes to his hat, which he still kept on his head.
"Who has taught you to come into a room and speak to a lady with your hat on?" she asked, in quiet, contemptuous tones."Is that a habit which is sanctioned by _your new wife?_"My eyes were on him as she said those last words.His complexion, naturally dark and swarthy, changed instantly to a livid yellow white; his hand caught at the chair nearest to him, and he dropped into it heavily.
"I don't understand you," he said, after a moment of silence, looking about the room unsteadily while he spoke.
"You do," said my mistress."Your tongue lies, but your face speaks the truth."He called back his courage and audacity by a desperate effort, and started up from the chair again with an oath.
The instant before this happened I thought I heard the sound of a rustling dress in the passage outside, as if one of the women servants was stealing up to listen outside the door.I should have gone at once to see whether this was the case or not, but my master stopped me just after he had risen from the chair.
"Get the bed made in the Red Room, and light a fire there directly," he said, with his fiercest look and in his roughest tones."When I ring the bell, bring me a kettle of boiling water and a bottle of brandy.As for you," he continued, turning toward Mr.Meeke, who still sat pale and speechless with his fiddle hugged up in his arms, "leave the house, or you won't find your cloth any protection to you."At this insult the blood flew into my mistress's face.Before she could say anything, Mr.James Smith raised his voice loud enough to drown hers.
"I won't hear another word from you," he cried out, brutally.
"You have been talking like a mad woman, and you look like a mad woman.You are out of your senses.As sure as you live, I'll have you examined by the doctors to-morrow.Why the devil do you stand there, you scoundrel?" he roared, wheeling round on his heel to me."Why don't you obey my orders?"I looked at my mistress.If she had directed me to knock Mr.
James Smith down, big as he was, I think at that moment I could have done it.
"Do as he tells you, William," she said, squeezing one of her hands firmly over her bosom, as if she was trying to keep down the rising indignation in that way."This is the last order of his giving that I shall ask you to obey.""Do you threaten me, you mad--"
He finished the question by a word I shall not repeat.
"I tell you," she answered, in clear, ringing, resolute tones, "that you have outraged me past all forgiveness and all endurance, and that you shall never insult me again as you have insulted me to-night."After saying those words she fixed one steady look on him, then turned away and walked slowly to the door.
A minute previously Mr.Meeke had summoned courage enough to get up and leave the room quietly.I noticed him walking demurely away, close to the wall, with his fiddle held under one tail of his long frock-coat, as if he was afraid that the savage passions of Mr.James Smith might be wreaked on that unoffending instrument.He got to the door before my mistress.As he softly pulled it open, I saw him start, and the rustling of the gown caught my ear again from the outside.
My mistress followed him into the passage, turning, however, in the opposite direction to that taken by the little parson, in order to reach the staircase that led to her own room.I went out next, leaving Mr.James Smith alone.
I overtook Mr.Meeke in the hall, and opened the door for him.
"I beg your pardon, sir," I said, "but did you come upon anybody listening outside the music-room when you left it just now?""Yes, William," said Mr.Meeke, in a faint voice, "I think it was Josephine; but I was so dreadfully agitated that I can't be quite certain about it."Had she surprised our secret? That was the question I asked myself as I went away to light the fire in the Red Room.Calling to mind the exact time at which I had first detected the rustling outside the door, I came to the conclusion that she had only heard the last part of the quarrel between my mistress and her rascal of a husband.Those bold words about the "new wife" had been assuredly spoken before I heard Josephine stealing up to the door.
As soon as the fire was alight and the bed made, I went back to the music-room to announce that my orders had been obeyed.Mr.
James Smith was walking up and down in a perturbed way, still keeping his hat on.He followed me to the Red Room without saying a word.
Ten minutes later he rang for the kettle and the bottle of brandy.When I took them in I found him unpacking a small carpet-bag, which was the only luggage he had brought with him.
He still kept silence, and did not appear to take any notice of me.I left him immediately without our having so much as exchanged a single word.
So far as I could tell, the night passed quietly.The next morning I heard that my mistress was suffering so severely from a nervous attack that she was unable to rise from her bed.It was no surprise to me to be told that, knowing as I did what she had gone through the night before.
About nine o'clock I went with the hot water to the Red Room.
After knocking twice I tried the door, and, finding it not locked, went in with the jug in my hand.
I looked at the bed--I looked all round the room.Not a sign of Mr.James Smith was to be seen anywhere.
Judging by appearances, the bed had certainly been occupied.
Thrown across the counterpane lay the nightgown he had worn.Itook it up and saw some spots on it.I looked at them a little closer.They were spots of blood.