University of Virginia Library

17. XVII.
DISCOVERY.

THE next evening Kate and Philip went
to a ball. As Hope was passing through
the hall late in the evening, she heard a sudden,
sharp cry somewhere in the upper
regions, that sounded, she thought, like a
woman's voice. She stopped to hear, but
there was silence. It seemed to come from
the direction of Malbone's room, which was
in the third story. Again came the cry, more
gently, ending in a sort of sobbing monologue.
Gliding rapidly up stairs in the dark, she
paused at Philip's deserted room, but the
door was locked, and there was profound
stillness. She then descended, and pausing
at the great landing, heard other steps descending
also. Retreating to the end of the
hall, she hastily lighted a candle, when the
steps ceased. With her accustomed nerve,
wishing to explore the thing thoroughly,
she put out the light and kept still. As she
expected, the footsteps presently recommenced,

descending stealthily, but drawing no nearer,
and seeming rather like sounds from an
adjoining house, heard through a party-wall.
This was impossible, as the house stood alone.
Flushed with excitement, she relighted the
hall candles, and, taking one of them, searched
the whole entry and stairway, going down even
to the large, old-fashioned cellar.

Looking about her in this unfamiliar region,
her eye fell on a door that seemed to open into
the wall; she had noticed a similar door on
the story above, — one of the closet doors that
had been nailed up by Aunt Jane's order. As
she looked, however, a chill breath blew in
from another direction, extinguishing her lamp.
This air came from the outer door of the cellar,
and she had just time to withdraw into a
corner before a man's steps approached, passing
close by her.

Even Hope's strong nerves had begun to
yield, and a cold shudder went through her.
Not daring to move, she pressed herself
against the wall, and her heart seemed to
stop as the unseen stranger passed. Instead
of his ascending where she had come down,
as she had expected, she heard him grope his
way toward the door she had seen in the wall.

There he seemed to find a stairway, and when
his steps were thus turned from her, she was
seized by a sudden impulse and followed him,
groping her way as she could. She remembered
that the girls had talked of secret stairways
in that house, though she had no conception
whither they could lead, unless to
some of the shut-up closets.

She steadily followed, treading cautiously
upon each creaking step. The stairway was
very narrow, and formed a regular spiral as in
a turret. The darkness and the curving motion
confused her brain, and it was impossible
to tell how high in the house she was, except
when once she put her hand upon what was
evidently a door, and moreover saw through
its cracks the lamp she had left burning in the
upper hall. This glimpse of reality reassured
her. She had begun to discover where she
was. The doors which Aunt Jane had closed
gave access, not to mere closets, but to a spiral
stairway, which evidently went from top to
bottom of the house, and was known to some
one else beside herself.

Relieved of that slight shudder at the super-natural
which sometimes affects the healthiest
nerves, Hope paused to consider. To alarm

the neighborhood was her first thought. A
slight murmuring from above dispelled it; she
must first reconnoitre a few steps farther. As
she ascended a little way, a gleam shone upon
her, and down the damp stairway came a fragrant
odor, as from some perfumed chamber.
Then a door was shut and reopened. Eager
beyond expression, she followed on. Another
step, and she stood at the door of Malbone's
apartment.

The room was brilliant with light; the
doors and windows were heavily draped.
Fruit and flowers and wine were on the
table. On the sofa lay Emilia in a gay ball-dress,
sunk in one of her motionless trances,
while Malbone, pale with terror, was deluging
her brows with the water he had just brought
from the well below.

Hope stopped a moment and leaned against
the door, as her eyes met Malbone's. Then
she made her way to a chair, and leaning on
the back of it, which she fingered convulsively,
looked with bewildered eyes and compressed
lips from the one to the other. Malbone tried
to speak, but failed; tried again, and brought
forth only a whisper that broke into clearer
speech as the words went on. “No use to

explain,” he said. “Lambert is in New York.
Mrs. Meredith is expecting her — to-night —
after the ball. What can we do?”

Hope covered her face as he spoke; she
could bear anything better than to have him
say “we,” as if no gulf had opened between
them. She sank slowly on her knees behind
her chair, keeping it as a sort of screen between
herself and these two people, — the
counterfeits, they seemed, of her lover and
her sister. If the roof in falling to crush
them had crushed her also, she could scarcely
have seemed more rigid or more powerless.
It passed, and the next moment she was on
her feet again, capable of action.

“She must be taken,” she said very clearly,
but in a lower tone than usual, “to my chamber.”
Then pointing to the candles, she said,
more huskily, “We must not be seen. Put
them out.” Every syllable seemed to exhaust
her. But as Philip obeyed her words, he saw
her move suddenly and stand by Emilia's side.

She put out both arms as if to lift the young
girl, and carry her away.

“You cannot,” said Philip, putting her gently
aside, while she shrank from his touch.
Then he took Emilia in his arms and bore her
to the door, Hope preceding.

Motioning him to pause a moment, she
turned the lock softly, and looked out into
the dark entry. All was still. She went out,
and he followed with his motionless burden.
They walked stealthily, like guilty things, yet
every slight motion seemed to ring in their
ears. It was chilly, and Hope shivered.
Through the great open window on the stairway
a white fog peered in at them, and the
distant fog-whistle came faintly through; it
seemed as if the very atmosphere were condensing
about them, to isolate the house in
which such deeds were done. The clock
struck twelve, and it seemed as if it struck
a thousand.

When they reached Hope's door, she turned
and put out her arms for Emilia, as for a
child. Every expression had now gone from
Hope's face but a sort of stony calmness,
which put her infinitely farther from Malbone
than had the momentary struggle. As he
gave the girlish form into arms that shook and
trembled beneath its weight, he caught a
glimpse in the pier-glass of their two white
faces, and then, looking down, saw the rose-tints
yet lingering on Emilia's cheek. She,
the source of all this woe, looked the only representative

of innocence between two guilty
things.

How white and pure and maidenly looked
Hope's little room, — such a home of peace, he
thought, till its door suddenly opened to admit
all this passion and despair! There was
a great sheaf of cardinal flowers on the table,
and their petals were drooping, as if reluctant
to look on him. Scheffer's Christus Consolator
was upon the walls, and the benign figure
seemed to spread wider its arms of mercy, to
take in a few sad hearts more.

Hope bore Emilia into the light and purity
and warmth, while Malbone was shut out into
the darkness and the chill. The only two
things to which he clung on earth, the two
women between whom his unsteady heart
had vibrated, and both whose lives had been
tortured by its vacillation, went away from
his sight together, the one victim bearing the
other victim in her arms. Never any more
while he lived would either of them be his
again; and had Dante known it for his last
glimpse of things immortal when the two
lovers floated away from him in their sad
embrace, he would have had no such sense
of utter banishment as had Malbone then.