Chapter VI: Part 6

She stopped and told me, trembling convulsively as she spoke, that while on the way with a broom to the cabin, intending to make it fit for temporary occupancy, Edna had met her and questioned her. At Leah's attempt to conceal the truth, Edna, who was already in an angry mood, burst into a fury and struck Leah across the face with such force that her cheek was badly cut, inside, by her teeth. The revolver had dropped from Leah's pocket; Edna had picked it up, accused Leah of stealing it, and had gone on down the lane.

"Oh!" Leah cried passionately, "I don't care how much she hurt me--she's not responsible, I'm sure--but I'm afraid that now she'll send me away again. Then what will become of Miss Joy? If she'll strike me, she'll do worse. If we don't do something pretty soon, it will be too late!"

"You must keep out of sight as much as possible for the rest of the day," I said, "especially as the doctor will probably come down. If we could only prevent that!" At the words, an idea occurred to me. "What train does he usually come down on?"

"The ten o'clock from the city. He usually takes luncheon here."

"Then there's just time, perhaps, to catch him. Come up-stairs. I'm going to try to see if we can't find out something. It's a desperate chance, but I'll take it. The thing can't be much worse, even if we're found out."

We went up into the study and I called up the doctor's number. While we were waiting for it I gave Leah her instructions.

"Don't speak loud, just barely loud enough so that he may hear with difficulty, and let him do most of the talking. Pitch your voice as high as you can. Ask him what train he's coming down on. I'll take the receiver and listen, and tell you what else to say."

In a few minutes the bell rang and we were connected with the doctor's office. I heard him say, "Hello! Is that you, Miss Fielding?"

"Say 'yes,'" I whispered. Leah did so.

"Anything the matter?" he asked. Leah said "No."

"What did you want, then?" was his next question.

Leah put the question about the train.

"I'm going to take the ten. I'm starting right off. What's the matter with your voice? It sounds different, and it's so weak anyway, I can hardly hear it!"

I told Leah to say, "What?"

"Oh, never mind," he exclaimed impatiently. "There must be some trouble over the line. I'd never recognize your voice at all. Can you hear me plainly?"

"Yes," said Leah.

"Well, look out for Castle," he went on, "Don't let him know that you suspect anything, will you?"

"No," from Leah, at my prompting.

"He's trying to make trouble for you; and he will, if we don't look out. He's in love with _the other one_, and you'd better try and see if you can't get rid of him! Now, Edna!"

"Yes!" Leah again repeated my whispered word.

"Are you listening?"

"Yes."

"Are you listening?" Why was he repeating the question?

"Yes!"

"Are you listening?"

At this, I suspected a formula he might be using for some hypnotic suggestion. I whispered to Leah to say "Yes, yes," faintly.

"Meet me at the station, sure. You will come alone. Good-by!"

I hung up the receiver, pretty sure that he had not suspected the deception. I went down-stairs again, and as, by eleven o'clock Edna had not returned to the house, I had no doubt that she had gone to the station of her own volition to meet the doctor. This was fortunate, as, seeing her evidently in obedience to his suggestion, he might be less likely to question her about telephoning and thereby discover our ruse. I was, however, nervous at the prospect of meeting them. Leah could scarcely be kept if the trick were discovered; I should have hard work brazening it out myself.

At about noon I started down the north lane to meet them, and discover the state of affairs in time to let Leah know. Half-way to the road, however, I happened to recall what Uncle Jerdon had told me about seeing the two, the day we had broken down in the automobile. I decided to hide and see what I could discover--in a word, to spy upon them. I was by this time in no mood to be nice about my choice of weapons, and I took the first one that came to hand.

I had not waited long before I heard voices approaching, and I concealed myself behind a clump of bushes to watch. I was too far away to hear distinctly, and, in fact, they did very little talking--an occasional exclamation from her, and the doctor's nasal replies. My eyes told me more than my ears--enough to prove that, however Edna regarded me, the doctor also came in for considerable more of affectionate demonstration than I had suspected, and either he was not so conscientious as I had been, or he was actually in love with her. Their actions were those of acknowledged lovers. Why, then, had she flirted with me? Was her behavior now, perhaps, mere pique caused by the jealousy I had aroused in the way I had spoken of Joy?

I went in as luncheon was served. Edna met me a little coolly, the doctor more so. I was decidedly uncomfortable at being now a guest in a house where I was, perhaps, not wanted, but I pretended not to notice anything amiss, and endured my position as well as I could. The doctor ignored my presence completely, addressing all his dull witticisms to Edna, who laughed at them as usual, doing her best, now and then, to drag me into the conversation. She could not keep any one mood for long, however, and before the end of the meal I flattered myself that she would, after all, prefer being with me alone; but the doctor's pop-eyes held her, and his interminable foolery kept her whole attention concentrated upon him, despite herself. Nothing at all was said about the telephoning.

Directly after luncheon was over the two went up-stairs into the study, without even the formality of an apology to me. As Leah was busy about her own work, I strolled out into the kitchen to see King. He was washing the dishes, and greeted me with his customary cryptic grin.

"Say, King," I said, "you got a joss in your room?"

His grin grew wider. "Yep!" he ejaculated, nodding.

"You no Christian, then? You not go to Sunday-school?"

"Aw, no good go to Sunday-school--I can talk Melican all light. Chlistian joss no good for Chinaman. You think so?"

"I guess you're right," I said. "But do you worship your joss? You burn punk-stick sometime? You trim him up with paper flowers, maybe?"

He laughed to himself as if it were a great joke, but kept on washing his dishes like a machine. "You likee see my joss?" he said, looking back over his shoulder. "Heap good joss--velly old. I bling him flom China."

"What d'you pray for, King?"

"Aw, sometime one thing, sometime other thing. I play for good luck, allee same Chlistian. You play, too?"

"Oh, sometimes," I said. "But go on, tell me, King. When do you pray? You pray to-day?"

He shook his head. "Aw, no; no play yet. Play all time at night."

"What did you ask for last night, then? Come on, tell me!"

"Aw, no, no!" He shook his head, still laughing sillily.

"Money, King? I'll bet you prayed for money!"

"Aw, no, no! I tell you. I play for Miss Fielding."

I had stumbled upon a live wire! Instantly I was aroused, and careful to say no tactless word. What I had already got from him was an extraordinary amount for a Chinese of his caste to discover to a white man. So I went witfully to lead him on to tell me more.

"That's good, King; I pray for Miss Fielding, too. I want her to get well. Don't you?"

"Yep. She good lady, you bet. Maybe she get well, I dunno."

"What you think the matter with her, King? I'm worried about her."

He emptied his dish-water out, and wiped his hands first. Then he stopped suddenly and said:

"Miss Fielding, she got one no-good debbil on inside. You know? Sometime he heap bad, sometime he keep still. Plenty people have debbil in China; all time go pliest, he dlive 'em away easy."

"The priest drives the devils away, King! How does he do it?"

"Oh, flighten debbil, tha's all. Stlike gong, burn fire-clackers, make all time heap loud noise and debbil go away flighten'."

"I wish Miss Fielding could be cured as easy as that, King!"

For the first time during the conversation his grin disappeared. He came up to me, gesticulating.

"You likee flighten away debbil? Maybe I help you sometime?"

"Could you do it?" I laughed.

"Sure! Aw! you no think so?" He returned to wipe his dishes philosophically. I smiled at his earnestness and walked away.

I sat down in the library to wait till the doctor came down. I found that he would have to walk to the station, as Uncle Jerdon was away, and I determined to have another talk with him, if I could manage to see him alone. I had decided on a _coup d'etat_.

In a half-hour they reappeared, Edna showing traces of heaviness about her eyes, as if she had been asleep. The doctor looked at his watch, and found that he had just time to walk to the train. I offered to accompany him, and, though he appeared surprised, he assented with a good grace. Edna did not care to go with us. It seemed to me that she not only perceived the antagonism between the doctor and me, but fostered it for her own ends. It was as if we were fighting for her and she had decided to let the best man win. So we left her and started out.

I began as soon as we were round the turn of the lane.

"Doctor Copin," I said, "I wish you'd let me know exactly what Miss Fielding's condition is, and what hopes you have for her recovery."

"Did she ask you to interrogate me?" he asked blandly.

"In a way, she did. But I do so, nevertheless, quite on my own responsibility, as a friend who is very much interested in her case."

"Then I must decline to answer. You are aware, I suppose, that Miss Fielding has had her own reasons for not wishing the matter to be discussed?"

"I'm perfectly aware of that, but I think that, as I now know all the essential facts, it can't possibly matter to her. On the other hand, I can help, perhaps."

"I didn't know you were a specialist in nervous diseases--or even a psychologist," he answered in a sneering tone.

"I am neither, but I have common sense enough to perceive that her trouble is approaching a crisis. That, in fact, is my sole justification for staying on here."

"Oh, if that's all, you can go any time. I'm quite able to cope with the situation, I assure you."

"Doctor Copin, I insist upon having a statement of what you are doing in this matter. I speak as the representative of Miss Fielding--the real Miss Fielding."

He turned to me now with his thin lips drawn back, showing his even line of false teeth, in a cruel, selfish smile. "Insist?" he repeated. "You have hardly that right, whatever Miss Fielding has said."

"I certainly do have that right!" I maintained.

He stopped in his tracks and confronted me. "Why?" he demanded.

The time had come for me to play my bluff.

"Because I am engaged to Miss Fielding!" I announced curtly.

He scowled fiercely. "You are!" he retorted. "Very well, then, I have as good a right to refuse to answer you!"

It was my turn to say, "Why? What do you mean?"

"Because I am engaged to her myself. So there you are!" With that he walked off, leaving me standing, staring at him. I was literally bluffed to a standstill. I watched him striding down the lane in silence. I was in a labyrinth of thought. Then I turned slowly back toward the house and prepared for war. I should have to get it out of Edna, or give up and confess myself defeated.

As I walked up the lane I heard a rustling in the bushes, and peering through them, I saw Nokomis bounding along, her ears laid back, her brush trailing. She leaped down the bank a little way ahead of me and stood for a moment, pointing in the direction of the house. I called her, but she only turned her fine head for a moment, and then trotted on up the lane. I followed after her leisurely, preparing for my cross-examination of Edna.

Just before I came to the turn, I heard a quick, sharp yelp, and a woman's shrill cry. Then a shot rang out, echoing against the hillside. I ran round the bend at full speed.

There was Edna with a pistol smoking in her hand. In the path, in front of her, Nokomis lay dead. Leah, running up from the house, had stopped behind Edna, and stood horror-stricken, afraid to move. It was like the scene of a play.

I strode up. "What's happened?" I demanded.

Edna dropped the pistol to her side and looked down at the collie angrily.

"Nokomis tried to bite me," she said. "But she'll never try it again! I always thought she was dangerous."

"Give me that revolver!" I said sternly.

She met my look, shrinking a little, and handed over the weapon. I put it into my pocket. Leah retreated fearfully to the house.

First, I took Nokomis' body and carried it to a bed of ferns beside the path, patted her head and left her there till she could be buried. Then I took Edna's arm, gently, and led her away. She told me, a little frightened now at the impressiveness of my manner, that she had met Nokomis suddenly, and attempting to drive her away, the collie had snapped viciously at her. Edna had the revolver which she had taken from Leah earlier in the day, still in her jacket pocket, and, at the attack, had drawn it and fired immediately.

I had no reproaches for her--what was there to say? Even in speaking, she had recovered from her mood, and she became as blithe and inconsequent as if nothing had happened--the only effect apparent upon her was a whimsical pettishness at my implied rebuke. She began to attempt to cajole me childishly, patting my hand, looking saucily up into my face and pretending a sort of arch depreciation of her temper. It was evident that she was not at all sorry for what she had done; in fact, she seemed to be secretly altogether pleased at her prowess, though she covered it with considerable guile.

All the rest of the afternoon she was in an excited frame of mind. She treated me with all her former comradeship, but I could see that she was acting. It gave me a new insight into the rapidity of her development effected by the doctor's information. She was no longer a child; she was becoming complex, although still dominated by rapidly changing moods. A new phase had indubitably commenced; it was the sign, I feared, of a growing supremacy.

That evening she wheedled me with every art of the coquette. Her familiarity seemed to give the lie to the doctor's statement about their engagement, but it might well be true that she was playing him as audaciously as she was playing me. I did not, of course, ask her about it. It did not matter.

If I had needed to exercise my self-restraint on that other evening when she attempted to provoke me, it was much more necessary now, for she had become less differentiated, intellectually, from Joy; so much so, at least, as to permit me at times to give my imagination play, and fancy her, for the moment, the real Joy, my Joy in an alluring guise, tinctured with wild-fire. The line of cleavage now was more along moral lines. Edna's mind was evolving at the expense of her ethical nature. Her temptation was seductive and arrantly conceived to torment me; I was sure that it was intended to shake my allegiance to her rival self. It was like playing with edged tools to be alone with her. In her intervals of repose she fell so naturally into Joy's poses that it was disconcerting. It was like _The Faerie Queene_ over again; like an errant knight, I was confronted by the image of my mistress so cunningly enchanted that I could not tell till she spoke that her body was obsessed by another spirit.

She asked me much about the day before, and about what she had done and said. As the evening wore on and she could not defeat my continual evasions, she began to grow sullen and reserved. Finally, she appeared to give it up, and went up-stairs with a sarcastic emphasis to her "Good night, Prig!"

*VI*

Next morning I lay in bed for some time after I awoke, planning my day. If it were Joy who appeared, there were several things to be decided upon and accomplished; if Edna, a conflict was imminent which caused me much anxiety. Queerly enough, the proposal I would have to make to Joy seemed almost as if it would be an _ex post facto_ agreement. I had already announced my engagement to the doctor, but I had not made my bluff without holding a pretty good hand. I couldn't doubt, by this time, how Joy felt toward me.

At eight o'clock I heard the customary dialogue--Miss Fielding's door being still left ajar--but I noticed that her voice was quick and excited. Leah was called in immediately, and the two women seemed to have more than the usual amount of talk together.

Next, I heard the dogs barking in answer to their names; but there were only three replies to Joy's calls, to-day. Poor old Nokomis would never greet her mistress again. Then the door was closed. Joy evidently did not wait to have breakfast, as usual, in her room, for fifteen minutes later I heard her going down-stairs.

Fearing that something was wrong, though I was sure, now, that it was Joy herself whom I had heard, I rose and dressed as quickly as I could. I found her in the library waiting for me.

She held a folded paper in her hand, as she sat by the window, looking out listlessly. I bade her good morning; she looked up without a smile and silently handed me the paper. Unfolding it, I saw, written in a round, childish, vertical script, the words:

"_I know you now--Cat!_"

"I found this pinned to my pillow when I woke up," she said. "It's from Edna." Then a faint, dreamy smile softened her lips as she said, "You see, even to her, I am the White Cat!"

"How d'you know it's from Edna?"

"It's her handwriting. She writes very differently from me."

I looked at it, wondering. It was the first shot in the battle.

"You see, she has found out. Her eyes are opened," Joy said.

"Yes. I was going to tell you about it to-day. I suspected it yesterday, and it has proved true. It complicates things immensely."

"Leah has told me that I struck her, too. Think of it! It makes me positively faint. What horrible part of me has come to the surface in Edna? What undiscovered self is it that is torturing me so? It's a hideous revelation. It shows how depraved I must be, at heart."

"It isn't you!" I declared. "It's another woman, quite. It's only you in the sense that it would be you if you were intoxicated, or if you were dreaming, or insane. You mustn't think of yourself as in any way responsible."

"Then of course she's not, either?"

"No more than a child, or an idiot. She uses your body and your mind, but she hasn't, so to speak, the use of your moral scruples. She's a disintegrated self, imperfectly functioned. All the same we have, of course, to treat her as quite another person. And the time is approaching, I think, when we'll have to act. I don't intend to spare her. We must use force if necessary."

"How does she know about me, after so long an ignorance?" Joy inquired.

I told her what I had heard at the telephone. She could scarcely credit my testimony.

"If the doctor is definitely leagued with Edna, what can we do? He has all his science and Edna's active help. I'm lost if he's really against me! I can't be sure that the doctor has deliberately played me false. There may be some mistake."

"I think I can prove that to you," I answered, "but I have a great deal to say to you first."

I think she knew, then; I think she hoped to hear what I was going to say, for she gave me her hand, and smiled up at me as she rose to go in to breakfast. We sat down with Leah at the table.

I had taken it for granted that Leah had told Joy everything that had happened the day before, and so, not wishing to grieve her further, I took care to say nothing about Nokomis. But the swelling on Leah's cheek could not be so easily ignored, and several times I saw the tears come into Joy's eyes at the sight of it.

While we were there the clock struck half-past eight. At the sound Joy's face changed--an expression of abstraction came into it. It was as if she were trying to recall something that eluded her memory. Then she half rose, like a somnambulist.

"I think I'll run up-stairs and telephone the doctor," she said, without looking at me.

"Why should you?" I asked, much surprised, after the way we had talked.

"I don't know," she said vaguely, looking about the room. "Oughtn't he to know how I treated Leah? Perhaps he can prevent that in some way."

"You'd better not, Joy," I said.

She stood for a moment irresolute, and then, as if urged by some extraneous impulse she moved a little nearer the door.

"I just want to find out if he's coming down to-day," she said automatically.

I jumped up and touched her shoulder.

"Please don't telephone to Doctor Copin--you _mustn't_!" I said with decision.

"Oh," she said, wide-eyed, coming to herself a little. "There's a reason?"

"There's a good reason!" I exclaimed fervently.

She moved back, as if still opposing some force that was drawing her out of the room, sat down limply, half rose again, reseated herself.

"Resist!" I said to her.

Leah looked on without a word, breathless, her lips open.

Joy looked madly at me. "What is it, Chester? Tell me!"

"It's only a post-hypnotic suggestion, that's all. You must defeat it."

Then she literally shook herself free from the obsession. "Oh, why am I tortured and racked so!" she exclaimed. "Can't I be permitted to be myself when I _am_ myself? Isn't it bad enough to be robbed of myself half the time without his imposing his will on me now? Why is he doing this?"

"That's just what I want to find out," I said. "The important thing is not to give in to him. His experiments may possibly be justified, but I don't think so. We certainly have good ground to suspect him. Have you quite got over your desire to telephone?"

"Yes--but it's queer--I can still think of reasons why I might, though of course I agree with you that it's not best to. You see, I've only given up to you instead of to him. I'm quite in the dark, now; I seem to have no will of my own. I can't judge, I can't understand even my own impulses. Well, if I'm blind you and Leah will lead me, won't you?"

She reached over and took Leah's hand affectionately.

When we finished breakfast, Joy and I went into the library. There was an old, gilt-framed, concave mirror there, over the fireplace, that gathered in and focused on its disk the whole room in one condensed, shadowy scene. Joy went up to it.

"Aren't we queer and strange in there?" she said. "It's so dim and ghostly; when I look up and see any one in it, it always seems to me like some scene of Maeterlinck or Sudermann."

She walked over to another glass, more formal and more true, and looked at herself intently.

"Look at the lines about my eyes! They weren't there a year ago! My whole face has changed.... I have grown ten years older this last month.... My eyes themselves are different.... There's another wrinkle.... I wish my eyebrows were even.... I believe my nose is one-sided, too...."

Her voice died away. I looked up and saw her gazing into the mirror with a strange intentness. Her brow was puckered into a frown. Suddenly her hand went to her heart with a gesture of horror.

"Oh!" she cried, and hid her face in her hands.

"What is it?" I asked.

"The doctor!" she exclaimed, shuddering.

"Tell me!" I insisted.

Instead, she sprang up and began to walk up and down the room, wringing her hands. "It's awful; it's all confused in my mind, like a dream--but I seem to remember things that never happened at all. Oh, _did_ they ever happen?" she turned to demand of me in despair.

"That's what I want you to tell me."

She dropped into her chair again and began to cry--"Oh, I can't tell you! I can't! It never happened, I'm sure! What does it mean, Chester?"

"It's probably what happened here yesterday--to Edna--that you remember, Joy."

"Oh, how dare he treat her so, then? It comes back to me in scraps and shreds of scenes. Oh, what a cad he must be! And what a woman she must be, to allow him--oh, I can't stand it! Why did you make me remember? How can I ever look any one in the face again?"

She threw herself into the cushions on the window-seat and burst into tears. There was but one way to restore her self-respect, and I went over to her and took her hand. At first she pulled it away, but I persisted.

"Dear Joy," I said, "don't grieve so, for it's all right. It was Edna, not you, you know, and Edna's not responsible for what she does, I'm sure. Don't cry, for I have something to say to you, now, that you must answer."

She looked at me through her tears, and waited.

"I want you to marry me, Joy."

"Oh, please _don't_!" she exclaimed. "Marry you? How can I listen to such a thing, after what has happened? Oh, no, _no_!"

"It's partly on account of that that I ask you now. I want to help you, and I can help you so much more if we are engaged. I want the right to help you."

"Oh, it's only pity that makes you ask me. It's only to protect me! Never, never!"

"It isn't that," I protested. "I love you, Joy--I have loved you for a long time, and loving you, I want to save you, not only for your sake, but for my own as well. I want you for my wife, Joy! Don't you love me?"

Her tears had ceased and now she looked at me with bright eyes that burned softly.

"My dear," she said, "of course I love you! I think I have loved you ever since that first day you came here. But for that very reason I must say no. How could I ever drag you into this wretched trouble?"

"Oh, I'm in it all over, whether or no," I said. "Do you think I could ever leave you now? Were I only your friend, even, I'd have to stay with you; but I'm your lover, Joy! I'm most desperately in love with you. And I intend to have you, too! No matter what you say, no matter what you do, you're mine, and you can't get away from me. So you'd better just say 'yes' this moment."

She sat up and looked at me tenderly. "Don't speak of it again--not till all this problem is settled, at least. It's impossible. Do you think I could think of it after what has happened, after I've found out what I really am? If I am ever released from this spell--if I can ever forget what I've just found out, it will be time enough to speak of love. But not now, I beg of you. I'm the White Cat!"

"I've already told the doctor that we're engaged," I said.

"You told the doctor!" she exclaimed. "How could you?"

I repeated our conversation in the lane. Her momentary resentment at me died away at hearing the doctor's own announcement.

"Then perhaps Edna is in love with him, after all! That would account for much, and excuse everything, perhaps." She drew a sigh of relief at the thought of this palliation.

"I don't think she is, but she might be willing to marry him to get her freedom," I offered.

"But then, if Edna is in love, I have still less right to let you propose to me. Why, just think of it--it's incredible! If they're engaged----"

"They're not engaged, I'm sure."

"It makes no difference--she may care for him more than you think. It's fearful! I can't talk about it!"

"But she _can't_ marry him! We must prevent that! Think of the horror of that possibility!"

I had small need to appeal to her imagination. Her mind was already whirling with the possibilities of such a situation. She stared at me, dazed, speechless, her eyes filled with terror. Then she collapsed and fell into my arms.

"Oh, Chester, what shall I do? Take care of me! I'm so frightened!"

"You must listen to me, Joy," I said. "I love you so that my heart will break if you don't consent and let me help you. You must be my wife, and then we can defy them and fight it out together."

She started up with a new thought. "Oh, hasn't Edna a right to _her_ love, too? Won't it be as bad for her, possibly, if I consent? How can I force her to suffer that! How can I bear to think of your being with her while I'm wandering, lost, eclipsed? Oh, don't you see how shockingly impossible the whole thing is? We can neither of us dare to love. We have no right even to think of it! How can you suggest it? It's unthinkable!"

"But you love me?" I asked.

She offered me her lips for the first time, and clung to me, trembling.

"Then nothing is impossible. We'll wait a while, and see. But at least, so far as the doctor is concerned, I can't afford to be stultified. You'll not repudiate my announcement? You'll admit it to him, if he asks? I must have that weapon against him."

She turned it over in her mind. "I'll not deny it," she said finally, "but you must not consider it a promise. It's simply too ghastly to think of!"

I had gained that much, at any rate, and though my heart sank at the thought of the possibilities our words had pictured, I still hoped to be inspired to some successful plan for attack and defense. I knew that Joy loved me--that was everything. It made me bolder and more confident. So I put the horrors from me and thought only of our love.

She turned suddenly toward me and said: "What would you do for me, Chester?"

"Anything, except give you up!"

"Remember the White Cat!" she said. "Would you do what she asked the Prince to do?"

"What do you mean?"

She spoke deliberately. "Conceive, if you can, our being beaten in the end. Conceive that Edna might marry the doctor--and then think of me!"

"I'll prevent that!" I said, through my teeth.

"You may not be able to prevent it, except in one way."

I understood. "If I ever believe that _that_ is the only way to prevent it--I promise to help you."

"I may be able to do it alone; of course I shall try. But if I haven't the means, the opportunity, you must promise to help me find them."

"I promise!" I repeated.

She tossed her head back with her old gesture.

Then I said: "Joy, all this is unnecessary; though I've promised. If you'll only marry me now--if you'll even consent to an engagement, it will enable me to defy the doctor and prevent his coming here."

"Oh, I can not, I can not!" she cried. "You know why as well as I! It's too awful! I love you--that must be enough for the present."

She rose and added: "Let's go outdoors and take a walk. Perhaps the air and the sun will do me good, and afterward we can think it over and decide how to manage the doctor. I'll just run up-stairs and change my clothes and then we'll try the sun-cure."

As she went up to her room, I walked out into the kitchen to talk to King while I waited for her. He was busy at the stove, but welcomed me with his usual meaningless grin.

"Well, King," I said, "I guess your joss is pretty good, after all. Miss Fielding is better to-day."

"H'm!" He shook his head. "Debbil come plenty time more!"

"Perhaps we can pray him away," I suggested.

He dropped his spoon and came up and took my arm.

"You likee come lookee my joss?"

I assented, amused at his insistence, and he led me out into the yard where, beside the stable, he had a little shed. It was filled with the odor of burning sandalwood. In his room, by the upper end of his cot, was his porcelain joss, a horrible-faced deity. Long placards of red paper containing Chinese writing were hung about, and there were paper flowers, dusty and fly-specked, upon the stand. At the feet of the idol was a bowl full of ashes in which were many joss-sticks. Three were lighted, the others had burned out. There was also a small lamp, with a lighted wick floating on the nut-oil. I inspected it all very seriously.

King rummaged in his trunk, and soon, grinning, beckoned to me. I went over to him and saw, in the tray, a large, ferocious-looking mask such as are used in the Chinese theaters and at the Feasts of the Dead. Beside it was a pair of huge brass cymbals and a snake-skin tomtom. King held up the mask.

"Oh, you used to be an actor, eh!" I said.

He grinned and held the thing in front of his face. It certainly was horrible. He took up the cymbals and struck one clang. Then he put them away.

"Heap good for debbil. Dlive him away quick!" he said. "Maybe some time I tly him! You think so?"

I laughed, and went back to the library, where Joy was already waiting for me.

She was standing by the window-seat, looking out, putting in a hat-pin, lost in thought, when I entered. My footsteps made no noise on the heavy rug, and I thoughtlessly touched her on the shoulder before she was aware of my approach. Absorbed in her trouble, unstrung, the surprise startled her with a sudden irrational terror; she leaped away as if from the touch of a snake. Then, seeing me, she dropped upon the window-seat, her hand on her heart.

"Oh, you frightened me so! You see how nervous I am. I didn't hear you. I'm a goose!"

I took no step toward her, but stood there gazing at her. A sudden idea had come to me at sight of her fear, and immediately a plan was unrolled before me, a perfected thing, a solution of the problem, perhaps. At my fixed, stony attitude, however, she took a new alarm and cried out:

"What is it, Chester? What is it?"

"Wait a moment," I said quietly, "let me think it out." My tone reassured her, but she was still agitated as she watched me while I turned it over in my mind. Then I took a seat beside her.

"It's a desperate chance, but it may work."

"You have a plan?" she asked anxiously.

"Yes."

"What is it?"

"I can't tell you. It will be much better for you not to know."

"Oh, I'm afraid not to know! It's dreadful to be conspiring against that poor girl. It's like plotting a murder. I can't bear the thought of it. You must tell me."

"It will be hard enough for me--you could not stand it," I said. "You'll have to trust me, for I shall save you in spite of yourself. But I can't share this with you."

"You'll not injure her, Chester?"

"How can I, when it will be your own face that I shall confront? It will be your own voice that I shall hear. I wonder if I can do it!"

"Oh, I _must_ know or I shan't consent," she declared. "What right have we to destroy her, after all? She has a right, perhaps, to her life!"

"Joy," I said, "you must think of it as a dream, as I said. In our dreams we suffer and enjoy, but so long as there is no bridge between that and our waking state, it need not matter to us. What must be done is no more than a surgical operation. It will restore you, I think, to health."

"But what of her?"

"She'll merely disappear. She'll take her place on the map again and join the rest of you."

"You won't tell me?"

"I can't!"

She rose proudly. "Then I do not consent," she declared. "I can suffer still. I'll summon new reserves of strength and I'll fight it out as it has begun. I'll forswear happiness, love, peace. I'll accept my fate--until I can stand it no longer. Then, I have my own remedy and I shall not be afraid to adopt it. There's always _that_ way out! No, I'm stronger than you think, and it's quite settled. Now come outdoors and let's get some fresh air. It's like a haunted house in here."

I tried no longer to persuade her, but I had already decided that I would put my plan through without her consent, if necessary. It happened, however, that this course was not necessary.

We went out into the sunshine and the fresh air and the perfume of June roses. In front of the house she stopped and called the collies. They came trooping joyfully about her.

"Where's Nokomis?" she asked. "Hasn't Nokomis come back yet? That's queer!"

I saw, then, that she had not been told. It was shocking to have to inflict this new blow upon her, after all she had been through, but it could do no good to conceal the fact any longer. As she turned to go around to the stable, I took her hand.

"Send the dogs back," I said.

She did so, with a question in her eyes. I took her arm and led her down toward the turn of the lane.

"Nokomis will never come back, Joy," I said.

"Why?" she exclaimed. Then she saw the answer in my eyes, and she grasped my arm, as if she were about to fall.

"Oh, don't say--Nokomis isn't dead?" she whispered.

"It was my fault, Joy; I should have had her taken away out of danger. But I was too late."

I took her to the bed of ferns and pointed to the dead collie still lying there.

She ran to the spot and looked, aghast. Then, dropping to the ground, she took Nokomis' head tenderly and laid it in her lap.

"Oh, Nokomis, Nokomis!" she mourned, her little hand smoothing the ruffled neck affectionately.

I told her how it had happened, and she gazed at me, dry-eyed, till I had finished. Then she put the collie's beautiful head down, straightened out the body and finally broke into sobs that shook her whole body. I let her cry it out.

She looked up at me, her face drawn and tear-stained.

"Poor old Nokomis!" was all she could say.

I took her hand and helped her up, then led her gently away, as I had led Edna away only yesterday. It was the same hand I took, but it was so cold and weak! It was the same face I saw, but it was so shadowed with sadness! It was the same voice I heard, but then it had been proud and careless--now it was so tremulously stricken!

"To think that I should have killed Nokomis!" she said.

"It wasn't you, dear!"

"How do I know? If I could be sure!" was her doubting answer.

Then she wheeled about and faced me. She put both her hands on my shoulders and clung desperately to me.

"Chester," she cried, "take me, if you will--if you dare! I don't know any more what's right and what's wrong. The White Cat is blind! I must have you--I want you! I can't live without your help! I'll give it all up, now, and let you act; for I shall die anyway, if such a thing as this should happen again. Next time it may be Leah--it may be even you! If you can save me, I'll marry you. I consent to the engagement--I'll say 'yes' with all my heart, with all gratitude and all love. It's wrong and cowardly, I'm afraid, but you and Leah are all I have."

I kissed her on the lips, and put on her finger the little old seal ring I wore.

"Then we must be married," I said.

She freed herself and took a step back.

"Oh, no! Not yet!" she said sadly. "No, not even yet! When you have tried your plan--and I give you leave, now--when you have succeeded in freeing me--then we will be married. Oh, you must free me first--I can't share you with Edna--you must destroy her, before she destroys me!"

"Very well," I said. "I can't urge you further, though I am afraid there is a great risk in delay. I must go up to town first, and I shall have to leave you here, of course. I doubt if I could manage Edna, should she appear to-morrow while we're in town. But I shall return as soon as possible--to-morrow at the latest. Now I must get ready to take the one o'clock train up."

As we sat in the library waiting for Uncle Jerdon, Joy took up the crystal prism and watched abstractedly the rainbow spot upon the ceiling.

"You're leaving for the second time," she said. "It's the end of the second quest, isn't it? I'm afraid the White Cat has no piece of cloth fine enough to give her Prince, though."

I pointed up at the streak of prismatic color.

"There's a veil of beauty as wonderful as that the king's son brought home. Surely it's fine and subtle enough to pass through the eye of a cambric needle!"

She handed the crystal to me with a tender smile.

"Keep it, Son of a King! And, if you win me, I'll see you clad in those rainbow hues all my life long!"

At one o'clock I was in the train on the way to town, deliberating my plan and arranging for the preparations I must make.

*PART THIRD*

*I*

I started back for Midmeadows at ten o'clock the next day. It was a fine breezy morning and the country-side was full of odors. The sky was an intense blue, abounding in great rolling white clouds which spotted it like the continents and islands of a huge map upon which some titanic Napoleon was continually carving and remodeling new realms and empires of the firmament.

I paid less attention to them, however, than I did to the mental empire it was now my purpose to overthrow. If thunder and lightning could burst the cloud that kept the sunshine from my sweetheart's life, I was determined to conjure that storm.

I had, during my few hours in town, consulted a medical friend upon Joy's case, and while he gave no professional approval to my project, he had not denied the possibility of its being effective in producing a cure. Such conditions as Miss Fielding's were by no means rare, but they had been so little studied, except phenomenally, that there was no authorized course of treatment known. Each had to be dealt with according to its especial characteristics, and according to circumstances. He had talked to me a good deal concerning "subliminal selves," of the theory of "successive planes of consciousness" and of "isolated personalities," ending with the statement that, so far as any definite knowledge of the psychology of multiple or dissociated personality was concerned, even doctors were the merest laymen. Of its actual rationale they knew virtually nothing, though in some cases the disintegrated personalities had been synthesized into a normal self by means of hypnotic treatment.

I had left Joy herself, yesterday, and, in view of her accelerated alternations, due to the doctor's influence, I had every reason to expect to find Edna to-day in control. My chief hope was that she and Leah were still upon amicable terms, and that they would be alone in the house. But there had been time for many things to happen, and I awaited the news with considerable anxiety, though braced for any ordeal that might come--except, of course, what did come. I dismissed the carriage at the lane and walked the rest of the way.

There was no sign of life outside the house; I went up to the front door and knocked. It was some time before my summons was answered, and then, to my dismay, by Doctor Copin. This was worse than I had feared.

"Oh, how d'you do, Castle?" he said, making no move to let me in.

"I'm down again, you see. I believe Miss Fielding is expecting me," I said, as coolly as I could.

He stood with his hand on the door, defending the entrance. "I'm very sorry to say that Miss Fielding is not well to-day, and she can't see you."

"Can't see me! Why, that's impossible. She knows perfectly well that I was to return to-day!"

"She's said nothing about it to me, if she does. At any rate, she's in no condition to see anybody, and I must ask you to leave."

"Would you mind telling her that I'm here?" I said.

"I'll speak to her, if you like, though I don't particularly care to disturb her at present. Wait a moment, and I'll see how she is."

He shut the door and, I think, locked it. I waited on the step, hoping for a sight of Leah, and trying to make up my mind what to do if I were refused admittance. I might attempt to enter by force, but, with the doctor there, I could not possibly put my project into action. He finally reappeared with a long face.

"Miss Fielding begs to be excused," he announced.

"It's most extraordinary; I must insist on seeing her!" I cried.

"You certainly don't wish to force yourself in where you're not wanted?" he insinuated.

"If I were sure I wasn't wanted, no. But I don't believe you took my message in to her at all."

"I'll accept that insult, Mr. Castle, and we'll settle it at some other time. Just now, I must ask you to leave immediately. You may happen to recall what I told you the last time we met. As Miss Fielding's fiance it is not only my right but my duty to see that you go."

"And do you recall my own words on that occasion! I have as good a right to insist upon entering!" I maintained.

"Well, well, this is no time to discuss that, for my presence is needed in the house," he replied. "As I am engaged to Miss Fielding, No. 2, if you please to accept that designation, and as it is No. 2 who is at present receiving me, you'll perhaps see the force of my claim."

It was infamous to have to stand bickering with him, and, as it could do no good to enact a scene, I turned away, lifted my hat and bade him "good morning!" He bowed, shut the green door, and this time I distinctly heard the key turn in the lock.

I was for a moment at a loss how to proceed, but walked slowly down the lane. At the bend I looked back and saw Leah at an upper window gesticulating to me. I stopped and watched her.

From her signs I gathered that she wished to meet me, and, being careful to make no signal in return, I passed out of sight and waited. It was fifteen minutes before she appeared, coming through the underbrush, having made a detour from the back of the house to escape observation.

"Oh, Mr. Castle," she said breathlessly, "it's dreadful! The doctor has been down here since early in the forenoon, and he has been with Edna all the time, shut up in the library."

"What are they doing? Could you see or hear?"

"Oh, what _aren't_ they doing!" she exclaimed, turning away. "It's unbearable. I don't see how you can stand it!"

"I can't stand it! I won't stand it! I'll break down the door if they won't let me in!" I broke out. "I'll kill him!"

Leah caught my hand and stopped me. "It's no use," she said, "Edna herself won't let you in, I'm afraid. She's different this morning. I never saw her so much under his influence. Usually she jokes with him and teases him in all sorts of ways, but to-day she's more quiet and determined."

"Has she treated you badly?"

"No--if it were only that, I wouldn't care. It's something more dangerous. She's crafty and secret. It's sinister. It makes my flesh crawl!"

"Do you know how long the doctor will stay?"

"He's going back this afternoon, I think. That's why he's working so hard with her, I suppose. She's like a bird with a serpent--she's fascinated by him."

"What did he say to her--did you hear?"

"He has been hypnotizing her. I heard him say, '_You will be Edna, Edna, Edna!_'--he repeated it over and over."

"You must go back to the house, then, immediately. You mustn't be missed on any account. Do your best to placate her and avoid trouble. I'll watch in the old cabin till he goes past. As soon as he's out of the way, I'll come."

She was off on the instant through the wood toward the back of the house. I walked down the lane and along the highroad a little way, to the deserted cabin. Here I took my post behind a window and waited patiently.

A couple of hours went by. It was an eternity to me. A hundred times I decided to go and break down the door of the house and have it out with the doctor. I had a couple of revolvers in my bag and the temptation to shoot him on sight was strong. When I thought of what was probably going on in the house--of Joy's body, perhaps, at his mercy--it was all I could do to remember that my intervention at this moment would ruin all hopes of her eventual release from his power. I bore it for her sake, with my teeth gritted, thinking mad thoughts.

At last I heard the rattle of wheels and saw the carriage approach. Uncle Jerdon was driving; the doctor, smoking a cigar, was laughing complacently. I shrank out of sight till they had passed. Then I left the cottage and ran up the lane.

Edna was sitting outside on the door-step as I approached, but, on seeing me, she rose and went quickly inside, shutting the door. She was indeed different, if she failed to welcome me. My heart fell, but I went up to the door and knocked. No answer. I knocked again, and, after a long wait, Leah appeared.

By her first glance at me, and an almost imperceptible nod of her head toward the library door, I knew that Edna was near by, watching and listening. I was not surprised, therefore, when, in answer to my greeting and question, Leah replied:

"Miss Fielding is sorry that she can't see you to-day. She's not well. She says that she sent you that word before."

"Mayn't I even speak to her for a moment?" I asked.

"She begs that you will excuse her, Mr. Castle." Leah's eyes gave me another sign.

"Very well, then; tell her I'm much disappointed, but I won't trouble her again." I added a gesture in the direction of the lane and walked away without looking back. I felt that Edna was watching from the library window. Leah closed the door.