“The Doctor, I believe?”
How familiar the voice sounded! And yet I did not recognise it as the voice of any one whom I had known, but rather as a voice heard in dreams. Nor was the calm, dignified countenance on which my eyes rested, strange in every lineament. The lady was, to all appearance, somewhere in the neighborhood of sixty, and, for an elderly lady, handsome. I thought of my remark to Constance about the beauty and deformity of age, and said to myself, “Here is one who has not lived in vain.”
I arose as she spoke, and answered in the affirmative.
“You have come too late,” she said, with a touch of feeling in her voice.
“Not dead?” I ejaculated.
“Yes, dead. Will you walk up stairs and see her?”
I followed in silence, ascending to the chamber which had been occupied by Mrs. Allen since the old Captain’s death. It was true as she had said; a ghastly corpse was before me. I use the word ghastly, for it fully expresses the ugliness of that lifeless face, withered, marred, almost shorn of every true aspect of humanity. I laid my hand upon her—the skin was cold. I felt for her pulse, but there was no sign of motion in the arteries.
“It is over,” I said, lifting myself from my brief examination, “and may God have mercy upon her soul!” The last part of the sentence was involuntary.
“Amen!”
I felt that this response was no idle ejaculation.
“How was she affected?” I asked. “Has she been sick for any time? Or did life go out suddenly?”
“It went out suddenly,” replied the lady—“as suddenly as a lamp in the wind.”
“Was she excited from any cause?”
“She has been in an excited state ever since our arrival, although every thing that lay in our power has been done to quiet her mind and give it confidence and repose.”
She spoke calmly, as one, who held a controlling position there, and of right. I looked into her serene face, almost classic in its outlines, with an expression of blended inquiry and surprise, that it was evident did not escape her observation, although she offered no explanation in regard to herself.
I turned again to the corpse, and examined it with some care. There was nothing in its appearance that gave me any clue to the cause which had produced this sudden extinguishment of life.
“In what way was she excited?” I asked, looking at the stranger as I stepped back from the couch on which the dead body was lying.
She returned my steady gaze, without answering, for some moments. Either my tone or manner affected her unpleasantly, for I saw her brows contract slightly, her full lips close upon themselves, and her eyes acquire an intenser look.
“You have been her physician, I believe?” There was no sign of feeling in the steady voice which made the inquiry.
“Yes.”
“I need not, in that case, describe to you her unhappy state of mind. I need not tell you that an evil will had the mastery over her understanding, and that, in the fierce struggle of evil passion with evil passion, mind and body had lost their right adjustment.”
“I know all this,” said I. “Still, madam, in view of my professional duty, I must repeat my question, and urge upon you the propriety of an undisguised answer. In what way was she excited? and what was the cause leading to an excitement which has ended thus fatally?”
“I am not in the habit of putting on disguises,” she answered, with a quiet dignity that really looked beautiful.
“I pray you, madam, not to misunderstand me,” said I. “As a physician, I must report the cause of all deaths in the range of my practice. If I were not to do so in this case, a permit for burial would not be issued until a regular inquest was held by the Coroner.”
“Ah, I see,” she replied, yet with an air of indecision. “You are perfectly right, Doctor, and we must answer to your satisfaction. But let us retire from this chamber.”
She led the way down stairs. As we passed the memorable north-west room, she pushed the door open, and said,
“Blanche, dear, I wish to see you. Come down to the parlor.”
I heard faintly the answer, in a very musical voice. We had scarcely entered the parlor, when the lady said—
“My daughter, Doctor.”
A vision of beauty and innocence met my gaze. A young girl, not over seventeen, tall like her mother, very fair, with a face just subdued into something of womanly seriousness, stood in the door, as I turned at mention of her presence.
A single lamp gave its feeble light to the room, only half subduing the shadows that went creeping into corners and recesses. Something of a weird aspect was on every thing; and I could not but gaze at the two strangers in that strange place to them, under such peculiar circumstances, and wonder to see them so calm, dignified, and self-possessed. We sat down by the table on which the lamp was standing, the elder of the two opposite, and the younger a little turned away, so that her features were nearly concealed.
“Blanche,” said the former, “the Doctor wishes to know the particular incidents connected with the death of Mrs. Allen.”
I thought there was an uneasy movement on the part of the girl. She did not reply. There was a pause.
“The facts are simply these, Doctor,” and the mother looked me steadily in the face, which stood out clear, as the lamp shone full on every feature. “From the moment of our arrival, Mrs. Allen has seemed like one possessed of an evil Spirit. How she conducted herself before, is known to me only as reported by the servants. From the little they have communicated, I infer that for some time past she has not been ii her right mind. How is it? You must know as to her sanity or insanity.”
“She has not, in my opinion, been a truly sane woman for years,” was my answer.
“As I just said,” she continued, “she has seemed like one possessed of an evil spirit. In no way could we soften or conciliate her. Her conduct resembled more nearly that of some fierce wild beast whose den was invaded, than that of a human being. She would hold no friendly intercourse with us, and if we met at any time, or in any part of the house, she would fix her keen black eyes upon us, with an expression that sent a shudder to the heart. My daughter scarcely dared venture from her room. She so dreaded to meet her. Twice, as she flew past me, in her restless wanderings over the house, muttering to herself, I heard her say, as she struck her clenched hand in the air, ‘I can do it again, and I will!’”
A cold chill crept over me, for I remembered the death of Captain Allen; and this was like a confirmation of what I had feared as to foul play.
“There is no trusting one wholly or even partially insane. So we were always on our guard. Not once, but many times during the few nights we have spent here, have we heard the door of our chamber tried after midnight. It was plain to us that it was not safe to live in this way, and so we had come to the reluctant conclusion that personal restraint must be secured. The question as to how this could best be done we had not yet decided, when death unraveled the difficulty.”
The speaker ceased at this part of her narrative, and lifting from the table a small bell, rung it. A maid entered. I had never seen her before.
“Tell Jackson that I want him.”
The girl curtsied respectfully, and withdrew.
Nothing more was said, until a man, whom I recognized at a glance to be a regularly trained English servant, presented himself.
“Jackson,” said the lady, “I wish you to relate exactly, what occurred just previously to, and at the time of Mrs. Allen’s death.”
The man looked bewildered for a moment or two; but soon