"Mrs. Myers," cried the voice. Marian again shrank from the sound. "Mrs.
My-ers. Aunt Sally. Come to your poor Soozy." Mrs. Myers looked perplexedly at Marian. The voice resumed after a pause, with an affected Yankee accent, "I guess I"ll raise a shine if you dont come."
"I must go," said Mrs. Myers. "I promise you, Mrs. Forster, she shall not annoy you. She shall go this week. It aint right that you should be disturbed by her."
Mrs. Myers went into the other room. Eliza ran downrs, and Marian heard her open the house door softly and go out. She also heard indistinctly the voices of the landlady and her lodger. After a time these ceased, and she drank her tea in peace. She was glad that Mrs.
Myers did not return, although she made no more comfortable use of her solitude than to think of her lost home in Holland Park, comparing it with her dingy apartment, and pressing her handkerchief upon her eyes when they became too full of tears. She had pa.s.sed more than an hour thus when Eliza roused her by announcing the arrival of the luggage.
Thereupon she bestirred herself to superintend its removal to her bedroom, where she unpacked a trunk which contained her writing-case and some books. With these were stowed her dresses, much miscellaneous finery, and some handsomely worked underclothing. Eliza, standing by, could not contain her admiration; and Marian, though she did not permit her to handle the clothes, had not the heart to send her away until she had seen all that the trunk contained. Marian heard her voice afterward in the apartment of the drunken lodger, and suspected from its emphasis that the girl was describing the rare things she had seen.
Marian imparted some interest to her surroundings that evening by describing them in a letter to Elinor. When she had finished, she was weary; and the fire was nearly out. She looked at her watch, and, finding to her surprise that is was two hours after midnight, rose to go to bed. Before leaving the room, she stood for a minute before the old-fashioned pier-gla.s.s, with one foot on the fender, and looked at her image, pitying her own weariness, and enjoying the soft beauty of her face and the gentleness of her expression. Her appearance did not always please her; but on this occasion the mirror added so much to the solace she had found in writing to Elinor, that she felt almost happy as she took the lamp to light her to her bedroom.
She had gone no farther than the landing when a sound of unsteady footsteps on the stairs caused her to stop. As she lifted the lamp and looked up, she saw a strange woman descending toward her, holding the bal.u.s.trade, and moving as though with pains in her limbs. This woman, whose black hair fell nearly to her waist, was dressed in a crimson satin dressing-gown, warmly padded, and much stained and splashed. She had fine dark eyes, and was young, bold-looking, and handsome; but when she came nearer, the moist pallor of her skin, the slackness of her lower lip and jaw, and an eager and worn expression in her fine eyes, gave her a thirsty, reckless leer that filled Marian with loathing. Her aspect conveyed the same painful suggestion as her voice had done before, but more definitely; for it struck Marian, with a shock, that Conolly, in the grotesque metamorphosis of a nightmare, might appear in some such likeness. The lamp did not seem to attract her attention at first; but when she came within a few steps, she saw some one before her, and, dazzled by the light, peered at Marian, who lost her presence of mind, and stood motionless. Gradually the woman"s expression changed to one of astonishment. She came down to the landing; stopped, grasping the handrail to steady herself; and said in her husky voice:
"Oh, Lord! It"s not a woman at all. It"s D. Ts." Then, not quite convinced by this explanation, she suddenly stretched out her hand and attempted to grasp Marian"s arm. Missing her aim, she touched her on the breast, and immediately cried, "Mrs. Ned!"
Marian shrank from her touch, and recovered her courage.
"Do you know me?" she said.
"I should rather think I do. I have gone off a good deal in my appearance, or you would know me. Youve seen me on the stage, I suppose.
I"m your sister-in-law. Perhaps you didnt know you had one."
"Are you Miss Susanna Conolly?"
"Thats who I am. At least I am what is left of Miss Susanna. You dont look overjoyed to make my acquaintance; but I was as good-looking as you once. Take my advice, Mrs. Ned: dont drink champagne. The end of champagne is brandy; and the end of brandy is----" Susanna made a grimace and indicated herself.
"I am afraid we shall disturb the house if we talk here. We had better say good-night."
"No, no. Dont be in such a hurry to get rid of me. Come into my room with me for a while. I"ll talk quietly: I"m not drunk. Ive just slept it off; and I was coming down for some more. You may as well keep me from it for a few minutes. I suppose Ned hasnt forbidden you to speak to me."
"Oh, no," said Marian, yielding to a feeling of pity. "Come into my room. There is a sc.r.a.p of fire there still."
"We used to lodge in this room long ago, in my father"s time," said Susanna, following Marian into the room, and reclining with a groan on the sofa. "I"m rather in a fog, you know: I cant make out how the deuce you come to be here. Did Ned send you to look after me? Is he in New York? Is he here?"
"No," said Marian, foreseeing with a bitter pang and a terrible blush what must follow. "He is in England. I am alone here."
"Well, why--? what--? I dont understand."
"Have you not read the papers?" said Marian, in a low voice, turning her head away.
"Papers! No, not since I saw an account of my brilliant _debut_ here, of which I suppose you have heard. I never read: I do nothing but drink.
What has happened?"
Marian hesitated.
"Is it any secret?" said Susanna.
"No, it is no secret," said Marian, turning, and looking at her steadily. "All the world knows it. I have left your brother; and I do not know whether I am still his wife, or whether I am already divorced."
"You dont mean to say youre on the loose!" cried Susanna.
Marian was silent.
"I always told Ned that no woman could stand him," said Susanna, with sodden vivacity, after a pause, during which Marian had to endure her astonished stare. "He always thought you the very pink of propriety. Of course, there was another man in it. Whats become of him, if I may ask?"
"I have left him," said Marian, sternly. "You need impute no fault to your brother in the matter, Miss Conolly. He is quite blameless."
"Yes," said Susanna, not in the least impressed, "he always is blameless. How is Bob? I mean Marmaduke, your cousin. I call him Bob, short for Cherry Bob."
"He is very well, thank you."
"Now, Bob was not a blameless man, but altogether the reverse; and he was a capital fellow to get on with. Ned was always right, always sure of himself; and there was an end. He has no variety. I wonder will Bob ever get married?"
"He is going to be married in the spring."
"Who to?"
"To Lady Constance Car----"
"d.a.m.n that woman!" exclaimed Susanna. "I hate her. She was always throwing herself at his head. Curse her! d.a.m.n her! I wish----"
"Miss Conolly," said Marian: "I hope you will not think me rude; but I am very tired, and it is very late. I must go to bed."
"Well, will you come and see me to-morrow? It will be an act of charity.
I am dying here all alone. You are a nice woman, and I know what you must feel about me; but you will get used to me. I wont annoy you. I wont swear. I wont say anything about your cousin. I"ll keep sober. Do come. You are a good sort: Bob always said so; and you might save me from destroying myself. Say youll come."
"If you particularly wish it, I will," said Marian, not disguising her reluctance.
"Youd rather not, of course," said Susanna, despondently.
"I am afraid I cannot be of any use to you."
"For that matter, no one is likely to be of much use to me. But it"s hard to be imprisoned in this den without anyone to speak to but Eliza.
However, do as you please. I did as I pleased; and I must take the consequences. Just tell me one thing. Did you find me out by accident?"
"Quite."
"That was odd." Susanna groaned again as she rose from the sofa. "Well, since you wont have anything to do with me, good-bye. Youre quite right."
"I will come and see you. I do not wish to avoid you if you are in trouble."
"Do," said Susanna, eagerly, touching Marian"s hand with her moist palm.
"We"ll get on better than you think. I like you, and I"ll make you like me. If I could only keep from it for two days, I shouldnt be a bit disgusting. Good-night."
"Good-night," said Marian, overcoming her repugnance to Susanna"s hand, and clasping it. "Remember that my name here is Mrs. Forster."
"All right. Good-night. Thank you. You will never be sorry for having compa.s.sion on me."
"Wont you take a light?"