Nancy rose, opened her workbox, which stood on the side-table, and brought forth the purse. Of course Madame Carimon"s motive had been to change her thoughts. After admiring the purse, and talking of other pleasant matters, Mary took her departure.
And the moment the outer door had closed upon her that feeling of terror seized upon Nancy. Catching up her mantle with one hand and the candle with the other, she made for the staircase, leaving her bonnet and gloves in the salon. The staircase struck cold to her, and she could hear the wind whistling, for it was a windy night. As to the candle, it seemed to burn with a pale flame and not to give half its usual light.
In her nervous agitation, just as she gained the uppermost stair, she dropped her mantle. Raising her head from stooping to pick it up, she suddenly saw some figure before her at the end of the pa.s.sage. It stood beyond the door of her own room, close to that which had been her sister"s.
It was Lavinia. She appeared to be habited in the silver-grey silk already spoken of. Her gaze was fixed upon Nancy, with the same imploring aspect of appeal, as if she wanted something; her pale face was inexpressibly mournful. With a terrible cry, Nancy tore into her own room, the mantle trailing after her. She shut the door and bolted it, and buried her face in the counterpane in wild agony.
And in that moment a revelation came to Ann Fennel. It was this apparition which had been wont to haunt her husband in the house and terrify him beyond control. Not a thief; not Flore--but Lavinia!
XV.
On the Monday morning Flore found her mistress in so sick and suffering and strange a state, that she sent for Madame Carimon. In vain Mary Carimon, after hearing Nancy"s tale, strove to convince her that what she saw was fancy, the effect of diseased nerves. Nancy was more obstinate than a mule.
"What I saw was Lavinia," she shivered. "Lavinia"s apparition. No good to tell me it was not; I have seen it now twice. It was as clear and evident to me, both times, as ever she herself was in life. That"s what Edwin used to see; I know it now; and he became unable to bear the house. I seem to read it all as in a book, Mary. He got his brother to send for him, and he is staying away because he dreads to come back again. But you know I cannot stay here alone now."
Madame Carimon wrote off at once to Captain Fennel, Nancy supplying the address. She told him that his wife was ill; in a nervous state; fancying she saw Lavinia in the house. Such a report, she added, should if possible be kept from spreading to the town, and therefore she must advise him to return without delay.
The letter brought back Captain Fennel, Flore having meanwhile remained entirely at the Pet.i.te Maison Rouge. Perhaps the captain did not in secret like that little remark of its being well to keep it from the public; he may have considered it suggestive, coming from Mary Carimon. He believed she read him pretty correctly, and he hated her accordingly. Any way, he deemed it well to be on the spot. Left to herself, there was no telling what ridiculous things Nancy might be saying or fancying.
Edwin Fennel did not return alone. His brother"s wife was with him. Mrs.
James, they called her, James being the brother"s Christian name. Mrs.
James was not a lady in herself or in manner; but she was lively and very good-natured, and these qualities were what the Pet.i.te Maison Rouge wanted in it just now; and perhaps that was Captain Fennel"s motive in bringing her. Nancy was delighted. She almost forgot her fears and fancies. Flore was agreeable also, for she was now at liberty to return to ordinary arrangements. Thus there was a lull in the storm.
They walked out with Mrs. James on the pier, and took her to see the different points of interest in the town; they even gave a little soiree for her, and in return were invited to other houses.
One day, when the two ladies were gossiping together, Nancy, in the openness of her heart, related to Mrs. James the particulars of Lavinia"s unexpected and rather mysterious death, and of her appearing in the house again after it. Captain Fennel disturbed them in the midst of the story. His wife was taking his name in vain at the moment of his entrance, saying how scared _he_ had been at the apparition.
"Hold your peace, you foolish woman!" he thundered, looking as if he meant to strike her. "Don"t trouble Mrs. James"s head with such miserable rubbish as that."
Mrs. James did not appear to mind it. She burst into a hearty laugh. She never had seen a ghost, she said, and was sure she never should; there were no such things. But she should like to hear all about poor Miss Preen"s death.
"There was nothing else to hear," the captain growled. "She caught a chill on the Sunday, coming out of the hot church after morning service.
It struck inwardly, bringing on inflammation, which the medical men could not subdue."
"But you know, Edwin, the church never is hot, and you know the doctors decided it was not a chill. Monsieur Podevin especially denied it,"
dissented Nancy, who possessed about as much insight as a goose, and a little less tact.
"Then what did she die of?" questioned Mrs. James. "Was she poisoned?"
"Oh, how can you suggest so dreadful a thing!" shrieked Nancy.
"Poisoned! Who would be so wicked as to poison Lavinia? Every one loved her."
Which again amused the listening lady. "You have a quick imagination, Mrs. Edwin," she laughed. "I was thinking of mushrooms."
"And I of tinned meats and copper saucepans," supplemented Captain Fennel. "However, there could be no suspicion even of that sort in Lavinia"s case, since she had touched nothing but what we all partook of. She died of inflammation, Mrs. James."
"Little doubt of it," acquiesced Mrs. James. "A friend of mine went, not twelve months ago, to a funeral at Brompton Cemetery; the ground was damp, and she caught a chill. In four days she was dead."
"Women have no business at funerals," growled Edwin Fennel. "Why should they parade their grief abroad? You see nothing of the kind in France."
"In truth I think you are not far wrong," said Mrs. James. "It is a fashion which has sprung up of late. A few years ago it was as much unknown with us as it is with the French."
"_They_ will be catching it up next, I suppose," retorted the captain, as if the thing were a personal grievance to him.
"Little doubt of it," laughed Mrs. James.
After staying at Sainteville for a month, Mrs. James Fennel took her departure for London. Captain Fennel proposed to escort her over; but his wife went into so wild a state at the mere mention of it, that he had to give it up.
"I dare not stay in the house by myself, Edwin," she shuddered. "I should go to the Vice-Consul and to other influential people here, and tell them of my misery--that I am afraid of seeing Lavinia."
And Captain Fennel believed she would be capable of doing it. So he remained with her.
That the spectre of the dead-and-gone Lavinia did at times appear to them, or else their fancies conjured up the vision, was all too certain.
Three times during the visit of Mrs. James the captain had been betrayed into one of his fits of terror: no need to ask what had caused it.
After her departure the same thing took place. Nancy had not again seen anything, but she knew he had.
"We shall not be able to stay in the house, Edwin," his wife said to him one evening when they were sitting in the salon at dusk after Flore"s departure; nothing having led up to the remark.
"I fancy we should be as well out of it," replied he.
"Oh, Edwin, let us go! If we can! There will be all the rent to pay up first."
"All the what?" said he.
"The rent," repeated Nancy; "up to the end of the term we took it for.
About three years longer, I think, Edwin. That would be sixty pounds."
"And where do you suppose the sixty pounds would come from?"
"I don"t know. There"s the impediment, you see," remarked Nancy blankly.
"We cannot leave without paying up."
"Unless we made a moonlight flitting of it, my dear."
"That I never will," she rejoined, with a firmness he could not mistake.
"You are only jesting, Edwin."
"It would be no jesting matter to pay up that claim, and others; for there are others. Our better plan, Nancy, will be to go off by the London boat some night, and not let any one know where we are until I can come back to pay. You may see it is the only thing to be done, and you must bring your mind to it."
"Never by me," said Nancy, strong in her innate rect.i.tude. "As to hiding ourselves anywhere, that can never be; I should not conceal my address from Mary Carimon--I _could_ not conceal it from Colonel Selby."
Captain Fennel ground his teeth. "Suppose I say that this shall be, that we will go, and order you to obey me? What then?"
"No, Edwin, I could not. I should go in to Monsieur Gustave Sauvage, and say to him, "We were thinking of running away, but I cannot do it; please put me in prison until I can pay the debt." And then----"
"Are you an idiot?" asked Captain Fennel, staring at her.
"And then, when I was in prison," went on Nancy, "I should write to tell William Selby; and perhaps he would come over and release me. Please don"t talk in this kind of way again, Edwin. I should keep my word."