CHAPTER IV—A CHANGE IN THE WEATHER.

Otago Witness, Issue 2545, 24 December 1902, Page 39 (Supplement)

CHAPTER IV— A CHANGE IN THE WEATHER.

periences of the night had then entirely passed away, and she could recollect nothing of them. Each night the tragedy was repeated, and each morning found us as far as ever from its meaning. I wracked my brain for a right solution, but in vain; Anna could give me no assistance, for just when I wanted a hint or suggestion she was most incapable of giving it. As regarded the events of the night her memory was a blank, and in the morning the malaise of mind and body so overpowered every faculty that she was quite incapable of connected thought. Fain would I have spent the nights in her room and watched her slumbers, so that I might thereby, perhaps, detect the nature of her visions ; but this was one of the points on which Mrs Gresham was inexorable, declaring that it was bad for Anna to have anyone sleeping in her room, and that " she would not allow it," and we both felt that it vould be best not to rouse her to any direct antagonism by disobeying her command — a step which might very well lead to my immediate dismissal. Failing permission to sleep in Anna's room I tried to change the apartment given me at first for one nearer to my patient, but this also was declared to be impossible. There was no other room that I could have, though there were several unoccupied or occupied only by servants, which would have been more convenient. Here, again, we did not dare to insist, experience having taught Anna just those points on which her mother's nebulous, inchoatic character was apt to crystalise into firmness and resist with unnecessary obstinancy any attempt to coerce or change her opinions. " Mamma's like a feather bed : it does not matter how much you thump it, it does not take any impression. The hole that you make one moment is filled up the next, and the soft, unyielding resistance is practically stronger than adamant, which may be broken. Whatever you might say to-day she would forget it all to-morrow and insist upon her own plan. It is better to give in, to have peace at any price. And, after all, these little things make no difference. If they let you remain with me I shall get better, and if not — O ! anything is better than to risk your dismissal." So we avoided any possibility of rupture ; obeyed Mrs (or were they Mr) Gresham's orders in all humility; spending most of our time out of doors, and as far from the house as possible, and thus by the time that a week had passed, and in spite of her nightly terrors, Anna had grown visibly j stronger, and I began to hope that better physical health would enable her to overcome that mysterious mental ailment of which she was the victim. Those bright days of early summer passed very pleasantly. The extensive grounds afforded us the opportunity of finding many idyllic spots within their privacy where no one was likely to disturb us ; where we could read, or sew, or dream ; and give ourselves up entirely to the spell of the summer. But our favourite haunt was a beautiful avenue of pines, whose balsamic odours seemed especially helpful to Anna, and where we could always find a soft, dry seat, sheltered or sunny, as suited us best. At first Mrs Gresham had made all kinds of objections to these excursions, short of forbidding them altogether, and Anna with wonderful tact and a gracious acquiescence here and there, had successfully prevented her exercising her veto, knowing well that if once the fatal " No " were uttered she would become immovable in her determination; so finally she contented herself with saying that we might go out as much as we liked provided that we were never late for meals and that we did not go beyond the grounds. This was a great concession, and we took care not to abuse it. Anna grew daily stronger, and

though her nightly terrors had not ceased, I fancied that she was less completely obsessed by them ; that her morning hours were not so terrible as they had been, and that there was hope that in the end she would triumph over them altogether. I felt also that my presence, influence, and care were materially aiding in this result, and I determined that nothing should drive me from her side before the period fixed by the doctor — Christmas Day — Anna's twentyllrst birtnday. Eveiything was going on well, but I had an uneasy consciousness that some very trivial thing only was needed to turn all in the opposite direction, and this premonition was justified by after events. For some reason, best known to himself, Mr Gresham did not prohibit these out-door excursions. Probably he imagined that any decided improvement in Anna's health would mean my speedy departure, an event which he most ardently desired, and which he was shrewd enough to see could not easily be obtained in any other way. He made a point of meeting us two or three times a day, as we were leaving or entering the house, or sometimes came upon us in some favourite nook, in a manner which • convinced me that he alWays kept an eye upon our movements, and knew exactly what we were doing and where we were to be found. On such occasions he invariably asked with ironical politeness after Anna's healthy and whether her nurse could succeed in finding or making any occupation. Thus he taunted me with the suggestion that I was making a job, and remaining where my presence was neither required nor desired. It was hard to listen and say nothing; but I understood his motive, and felt sure that if I gave him the least excuse he would bundle me out of the house without ceremony; but that as matters stood he would not dare to do so without some decent excuse to give to his wife, her daughter, and the world. Until Anna was of age he, as her guardian, had great power ; but he was quite shrewd enough to see that this power if used too arbitrarily might defeat its own ends. For instance, if I were dismissed summarily and without cause, I might appeal to Dr Lomax, or even write to the public press. No ; his cue was to disgust me with my task, and force me to resign it of my own will, when no blame could be attached to him; therefore he did not cease to taunt me with hints and veiled sarcasm, and an insolent arrogance of manner that was in excess of all words. But to these remarks I listened politely, never taking the hints to myself or putting on any cap however well fitting. For Anna's sake I was prepared to endure more than that, and her pleading eyes and clinging clasp of the hand that seemd intended to restrain any expression of indignation or offence on my part were quite sufficient reward for my self-control without her whispered words of gratitude and affection. Mrs Gresham was also antagonistic, though in a different way, and I was never quite sure whether her objection was personal to myself, whether it was merely the reflex of her husband's more openly displayed enmity, or whether it was neither, and only the natural dislike of a poorly-de-veloped being for every sane and healthy person whose bare existence seemed to be a reproach. In spite of her fidgetty ways, which impressed you at first sight with the idea that she was a harmless eccentric with little intellect or stability of character, she proved herself past mistress in the art of stabbing in the dark. I never met a woman who could say sharper or more cutting things, or who knew better how to touch the sensitive spot again and again until it was raw. This also I bore for Anna's sake with a smiling face and outward, indifference. Mrs Gresham could not offend me try how she would. I had made good my footing and meant to keep it. Of course, in the face of such antagonism it was useless to suggest a change of room for Anna. " She had the best room in the house. What could I desire more? " "Of course there was no sun, on the south side of the building, but that was not the

fault of the present inhabitants ; they had not designed it." " She could always have a fire provided it was not left burning all night." " The upstairs rooms were small and low, little better than garrets. It was impossible to put her there. It would be a slight upon the heiress which would certainly be commented on by outsiders." "As to her absurd fancies concerning the furniture, etc., they were simply too ridiculous to speak of — the diseased imaginings of a sick girl, encouraged, for her own purposes, by a foolish nurse. No one out of a mad-house would attach any importance to them," etc. At the word " mad-house " I saw Anna wince, and in the hectoring tones I detected a thinly-veiled threat. What, if failing other measures, this man should declare that his stepdaughter was mad, and bring forward her own words as evidence against her? No ; we dared not risk anything. When Anna should be of age she could take the law into her own hands : go where she liked, live in what room she pleased, and even pull down the house itself if it did not suit her. In. the meantime there was nothing better to be done than to temporise; To shut our eyes to things that we did not wish to see, and to strengthen the patient, mind and body, in every way that was possible. So far nothing overt had been attempted, against her health or liberty. And although we might be certain that we were both practically prisoners, there was nothing to prove it. In three more weeks Anna would be of age and her own mistress. The great point was to pass that time with as little friction as possible, and there seemed no reason why, with care, she should not attain her majority in fair health and spirits. Yet though I argued in this way, and did my best to bring it to pass, I knew all the time that we were standing on the brink of a volcano, and that a catastrophe might be precipitated at any moment.

Thus a week passed away — a week of strained relations indoorsy-of lovely, perfect weather outside. Each day Anna gained a little ; each night she lost most of what she had gained, but not all. A small residuum was left to the credit side of the account. " Let but this weather continue until the 25th and we will celebrate the gayest birthday you have ever known," I cried joyously on the evening of the 4th, as we watched the moon sail through a perfectly cloudless sky, and inhaled with delight the soft, balsamic odours of the pines and listened to the weird rustle of the wind among the sweeping branches of the deciduous trees, which were already clothed with their delicate foliage of tender green ; " three weeks more, and then " Anna shivered. "Don't talk like that," she said; "I can't bear to look forward; it frightens me." " There is nothing to be frightened of in such a night as this. Come, smile and plan the future. It is a poor heart that never rejoices." " How fond you are of proverbs, I don't care for them " ; and again she shuddered. We were at the open casement of her room. I was leaning out, she stood a little behind me. and for the third time she shivered. I looked quickly at her. "Are you cold, dear? Shall I shut the window?" " No, lam not cold, but " The remark remained

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unfinished, and she hid her eyes upon my shoulder. A few minutes before she had been laughing and chattering as we came in from a late stroll, now she had changed all in a moment, and I felt, without her telling, that the spell of terror was closing in. upon her once more. I talked fast and loud, saying I knew not what, but Anna answered nothing ; only clasped me tighter and tighter like a frightened child in the dark. A servant came in with a lighted lamp. Anna lifted her head, and looked with a scared expression into every corner of the room, as if expecting to see something uncanny, and her glance lingered long on the weird figures of the polished rimu furniture; then lifting her head, she cried : " L«et us go into the drawing room; it is too soon to go to bed. Follow us with the lamp, Rose," as the girl said that Mrs Gresham had already retired, " I wish it was always day; I wish one could do without sleep." We spent a merry hour reading and talking, and studiously avoiding all reference to the forbidden subject. At last, when it was already past twelve, Anna retired again to her room, and I, as usual, assisted her to undress, talking cheerfully all the time. " Now, go to sleep, dear ; it will soon be morning," I Baid. "I am not going to talk any more, but I will sit and read to myself a little, and you must go to sleep." In a short time her quiet breathing told me that she was asleep, and I stole away to my own room. " Surely," I thought, " she will rest to-night undisturbed." In the morning, however, she was, as usual, many degrees worse — wan, weary, and exhausted. " I told yoa that sleep was a mistake," she said, smiling faintly, with white lips. But it was not only in slumber that she was troubled ; indeed, I do not think that that had anything to do with it. She would have slept well enough in any other room or in any other house. I took her her breakfast, coaxed her to eat it and to rise, and though she was worse than she had been the night before, I saw with joy that she was decidedly stronger than she had been a week before. In a short time we were once more in our favourite seat in the garden, inhaling the sweet air and watching the flowers grow. " If only this weather will continue." But it did not; a change was already at hand. In the middle of the afternoon a violent storm came on quite suddenly. The wind veered from north-west to south-east, and a wrack of heavy storm clouds overspread the sky in a few moments. We were walking in the pine avenue, fully a mile from home, where we could see only a little bit of sky, and were completely sheltered from the wind. We were, therefore, quite unprepared for the change. Suddenly the storm was upon us with an ice-cold blast — the rattle of distant thunder, the roar and crash of great branches as they were swept and torn in all directions by the fiends of the storm, now bent to one side, now to the other, forced upwards and downwards against their nature; torn, twisted, and flung hither and thither in their unbending stiffness. Dash! crash! A dozen branches yielded to the assault and came down with a mighty rending from the hearts of the great trees. In a short time the plantation on either side was strewn with twigs and branches, the air was full of pine needles flying in all directions, some freshly torn from the trees; others — and these were the majority — lifted from the ground and whirled upwards in a fantastic dance. A big branch fell almost at our feet, and the whizz of its descent caught Anna's veil and carried it in a moment out of sight. " That was a little too bad," she said, gaily. " What a sudden storm. I suppose it won't last long."

" I hope not, but anyway we had better hurry home ; it will pour in a few minutes. Look at that cloud. Ah ! " as a sudden vivid flash of lightning darted from the dense cloud and quivered in the air before us. At the same moment the hail descended with startling force. Anna caught my hand. " Let us shelter under the trees," she cried.

" No, it will not be safe ; we must go home. Take my arm, and lean on me. Don't exhaust yourself with running. I expect they know where we are, and someone is sure to come and bring you a wrap." But this expectation was not fulfilled. No one came to meet us, and we struggled on in the teeth of the wind and hail, every cold blast seeming to blow through Anna's delicate and slenderly-clad frame,

and to strike upon my heart as with a knell of" despair. The avenue was nearly a mile long, and we were almost. at the farther end. The distance to the house seemed interminable. We started to walk; soon our walk became a run. I knew not which to dread most for my patient — the chill from slow walking or the exertion of running. But the question* solved itself : to walk in the teeth of such a storm became impossible. I have heard of hailstones as large as pigeon's eggs, but those were the largest I ever saw, and some of them wereas big as the point of a man's thumb. They fell round 1 us in hissing fury, springing back from the ground liketennis balls on asphalt. We ran before them. Once or twice I tn'ought of taking- refuge under a thick tree, but the thunder was pealing overhead, and the flashesof lightning fell in a forked stream of lurid fire. Under such circumstances I knew it might be dangerous to shelter under any tree, so we ran on. I tried to support Anna, fearing the effect of the exertion,, fatigue, and chill, but she appeared endowed with superhuman strength, and when I would have paused, urged* me on. Mr G-resham met us at the door. " Oh, here you are at last," he said. " Your mother wa» getting anxious about you." This to Anna; whilst to me he made some cutting remark about the folly of going so> far from home without cloak or umbrella. Anna was very wet, but I undressed her quickly, rubbed her limbs well, and hoped against hope that she would not take a cold. But she did, and there was a ring of sarcasm and triumph in Mr Gresham's voice as he asked me morning after morning how she was, and implied, but did not say, "A pretty nurse you are, not to take better care of your patient." But the cold would have been nothing if the weather had cleared, and I could have got Anna out into the sunshine. Unfortunately, that hailstorm was the break-up of the fine weather. The damage that it did was incalculable. It stripped the young fruit from the trees in the garden* at Moana, and for more than a mile round there wasn't a gooseberry or currant left. The half-formed early plumsshared the same fate, and the garden paths were strewn with torn petals of laburnam, lilac, and syringa. The delicate leaves were split into ribands,, the more fleshy ones pierced through as by bullets ; but the worst damage that the storm wrought was the complete change in the weather which immediately followed. It rained, and rained, and rained, day and night, night and day, with hopeless persissistency. At night we went to bed with the ceaselessrattle on the roof and the swish of water against the panes, and in the morning the mist closed us in, and only lifted now and again when the rain became more violent, to close even more persistently after every shower. It was impossible to take a delicate girl out in such weather. And so we remained day after day in that room, which I had learned to hate asmuch as she did, though purely on her account, for I must confess that it never affected me in any way. Daily her spirits sunk lower. She did not shake off her cold, though the symptoms were not in themselves alarming. It was evident that she did not desire to get well ; she had neither the wish nor the will to live, and talked of death as of a much-desired friend. It was in vain that I

urged on her that life is given to us for some definite purpose «nd some specific object. She shook her head, as if to say, " I know better ; death is the end, and a greatly-to-be-desired goal." In vain did I try to rouse her. She had no desire to rise, to leave her bed, to seek one of the family sitting rooms. " Let me alone," she said. " You are a very fatiguing person, my dear Rhoda. Let me alone, I don't want to stir ; I want nothing." And still the rain continued, and the mist rose and fell, sometimes hiding even the nearest trees, and at others affording a wind-swept vista of sodden earth and sky. Trees which should have been covered with gay, green leaves and many coloured blossoms were bending with almost bare poles to the swaying wind, and apparently distilling moisture from the point of every leaf and twig; while the clayey ground beneath them shone with yellow slime. The lawns were like a sponge, every footmark filling rapidly with water ; over all a grey sky, without sun, moon, or stars. So far as I could see it might go on raining for ever ; there was no apparent reason why it should stop. Then, and a hundred times, before and since, I learned that Nature has no sympathy — that it is the greatest fallacy to suppose that the sun shines because we are happy, and the rain falls because we are miserable. Nature goes her way, and concerns herself not at all about you and me, If we obey her laws, well — if not, the suffering is ours. But it is nothing to her, one way or the other ; her " red tooth "is inexorable. And the rain continued, drip, drip, pour, pour; now a Scotch mist, and then a violent thunder-plu mp. Every night I said, " It will surely clear before morning," and every morning, " It will be fine ere night." And still the rain continued. Anna grew steadily worse ; it was hard to say what ailed her. She spoke little, but her hold upon life seemed to grow less and less, and she appeared to suffer more and more from that vague terror which she could not put into words. And now it was not only her nights that were thus troubled. Her ailment took another and more acute form. Even in the day strange voices spoke to her, and unseen presences haunted her. She lay for hours in a sort of semi-stupor, unwilling to speak or move, yet suffering a horror and anguish which found no expression in words, and which words indeed seemed powerless to express, being, as it were, terms of an unknown quantity. In vain I urged her to tell me what she heard or saw, or fancied that she heard and saw. To the last she was unable to do this. " I cannot tell you ; I cannot explain. It is there; that is all I know." "Where?" " Here " ; and she regarded the handsome room and the beautiful furniture with a kind of horror, "It is the voice of the world's evil, I think, and for some reason or other this room is fuller of it than any other place. Why is that, do you think, Rhoda? And why is it that I alone hear it?" " Nerves," I began. " Hush ! " she cried, with sudden passion, "I am tired of that word. My nerves are steady enough; there is nothing the matter with them. In the thunder-storm it was not I who was frightened, but you." " "Very well, we will agree that it is not nerves. What is it, then? for you will confess that there is nothing visible." "Not to you." "Is it to you?" " I cannot say that it is, or that it is not. I cannot see it with my bodily eyes, and yet — I cannot explain, I cannot explain. It is here, that's all I know " ; and then she would shudder and close her eyes, and resist any attempt to rouse her, declaring that she was " tired, so tired." And this went on from day to day without any change, except that her pulse grew weaker, and her small reserve of strength less. I looked at her wan face, circled by its curls of pale gold, and a sharp pang of fear shot through my heart; she appeared so fragile, so deathlike. It was increasingly difficult to rouse her to any interest in life. Without . any tangible ailment she was slowly fading away. I recalled old superstitions of many lands : prophesies of death and danger that had wrought their own fulfilment; deaths compassed by so-called witch-power which was really will-power, I remembered that Maoris, Hindoos, Negroes, and other primitive nations possess the power of dying at will, when they are weary of life and no longer desire to retain it; that they slay themselves with a thought as other people do with a knife, and I wondered whether this was a parallel case, and whether Anna would die simply because she did not desire to live. And then, again, why did she not desire to live? Could it be because some other person was willing her death? Was this the true solution of all the mysterious stories of magic in the Middle Ages, and could it be that at the end of the nineteenth century we were reverting to the same methods. I knew that some persons believed this, but I shrank from endorsing their opinions, at least, without further evidence. Look at it how one wouldj Anna's case seemed unique and inexplicable. I resolved to study it more and more earnestly, and not to allow myself to be carried away by my feelings, but to try and consider the case dispassionately ; but I could not hide from myself the fact that I no longer looked on Anna Gresham as a mere patient, but that she had already become a dear and much loved friend.

I have said that the servants that came to welcome us on our arrival were smart, town-bred maids, strangers to the house and family. They did their work well, with the regularity of machines, and found their chief interest in the men who came about the place — shepherds, overseers, gardeners, and so forth. But there was at Moana a woman of quite another stamp. This was the rook, a reserved, elderly person, who, because she rarely spokt and never gossiped and flirted, was called by the other servants a cross, ugly, old frump, but Mrs Mac was neither cross nor ugly, and w hen I knew her better I found that it was the viv«d recollection of many early troubles which had laid the spell of "lence upon her lips. None could look with seeing eye on her keen, intelligent face, and pronounce it otherwise than interesting She was, to me at least, a very attractive person, and per sistently remanded me of someone that I knew, though foi a time I could not remember whom. Mrs Mac seldom left the kitchen or neighbouring apartments, so at first I saw little of her, and was scarcely cognisant of her existence. But as Anna grew worse, one of the smart housemaids got a bad cold, and much of her companion's time was spent in waiting upon her. Then it was that I got into the habit of going into the kitchen and making little messes

for my patient, and the strong face of the cook attracted me. We had many talks, and I saw that she was a woman out of the common — faithful, true, and resourceful. Sometimes I could not stay long, and she brought us the finished cookery ; and thus by degrees broke through the rule — whether her own or another's, I knew not — and came often to Anna's room, and though she said little, her observant eyes took in every detail, One day — I shall never forget it; it was the 15th of December, ten days after the first violent storm and general break-up of the weather, ten days on which it had rained every day, and almost every hour of the day. Every bit of polished woodwork was sticky and clammy, and every article of clothing steamed when held to the fire ; and, worse than all, Anna had been confined for ten whole days in that hated room, and there was no prospect of release, for I could not conceal from myself uiat she grew weaker and more languid every day. On the 15th of December I went into the kitchen as already stated to beat up some cream, which I gave to Anna daily at about 11 o'clock. Mrs Mac looked keenly at me, and then shut the door. " Miss Thurston," she said, " do you know that if something is not done Anna Gresham will die?" I started. Her words, her fears were my own.

" Yes." I said, tenatively, for I saw that more waa coming. " She looks just like my poor mistress, her grandmother, though she has not the same cause." I uttered a slight exclamation. " Yes," continued the woman " ; all that happened while I was young, and before Anna was born, but I remember it as distinctly as if it had only occurred yesterday. You know that this house belonged to, and was built by, Mr Cartwright, Mrs Gresham's father, and Anna's grandfather. I came here with the bride 40 years ago. She was a sweet, young thing, not quite 20, the image of Anna, but gayer and more lively. She died in less than five years — a crushed and broken-hearted woman." " Was he cruel to her? '' The woman put up her hand deprecatingly. "It was nothing that one could take hold of. There are other ways of killing a gentle, high-spirited woman than by ki<t and blows. He knew how to do it, and he did it. He niM-ried her for her money, and did not fail to tell her so ever) iay, Then she had no living children, except one sickly girl- —the present Mrs Gresham — and he taunted her with that ; and to crown all he brought his mistress, a young half-caste, to live in that cottage (you have seen the ruins) by the gate, and openly spent most of his time with her and her dark-skinned brood. My mistress was an orphan; she had few friends ; she never complained ; but if ever a woman was done to death, she was. I think she must have loved her husband, or she •would not have taken his treatment so much to heart. I should have defied him, and gone away. At anyrate, she never complained. No, not even to me; but I have heard him curse and swear at her, and call her all sorts of ill-names, till my blood boiled in my veins, and I could have killed him where he stood. It's nearly 40 years ago, but I hate him as much as ever I did; and I should be glad to know that he was being punished somewhere, for all that he made my young mistress suffer." " There's no doubt of that," I said, emphatically ; " ' though the mills of God grind slowly, with exactness grind they all.' Do not doubt that the measure he measured to another, will be meted out to him." "You think so?" " I am sure of it." " Ah, well, let's hope so. She lived in that room -where Miss Gresham is now, seldom'quitting it day or night; and there I have heard her sob and cry for hours, and pray for death to come and release her from her sufferings'. But when I opened the door she would greet me with a smile sadder than tears. She never complained, never. The babe was always with her, a sickly, puny thing, but she loved it with passionate idolatry. At last he took it from her. ' The child will never get strong here, shut up with a sick woman all day,' he said brutally. I dare say it was true, but for all that it killed her. If he had sent her away, too, to some fresh breezy place she might have recovered. Ido not know; her malady was not of the body, but of the mind. When the child was taken away she had nothing to live for. She wished to die, and she died. She desired me to go with the child. My heart was torn in two; I could not leave her, and I could not disobey her. ' You're the only person in the world that I can trust, Susan/ she said to me ; 'go with my child, and then I shall know that she is safe.' ' There's nothing will happen to the child/ I said ; ' and who's to look after you ? ' 'If you love me, go,' she said, and I went. When I got back she was dying. Of course there was a doctor, but he didn't understand the case. He talked learnedly of pnuemonia and many other diseases with fine names, but it was her heart that was broken. If ever a woman was murdered, it was my mistress." " And she died in that room ? " " In that very bed." A new light began to dawn upon me. " Does Anna know this? " "No; no one knows it but me. Mrs Gresham was a very little child at the time. She never lived here much, nor did Mr Cartwright. His half-caste sweetheart died of fever soon after my mistress, and he went to Live on another property in Australia. He did not marry again, but he disliked his daughter, first because she was not a boy; and secondly because she was not bright and lively like other children, but restless and nervous as you see her now." " Pre-natal influence," I murmured. " Perhaps so. If you come to think of it, how could the child of such parents be happy, like other children? Anyhow, he neglected her, and when she married against his will, he left the property to his granddaughter. About two years ago the family came here to live. I had always been caretaker of the house, and they kept me on as cook. I think Mrs Gresham did not remember or know that I had been her mother's maid; at least, she never referred to it, and I said nothing. But when I saw Anna I was struck with amazement. She is her grandmother over again — features, expression, manner. When she jumped out of the carriage at the door I could scarcely help crying out. It was as though my young mistress had come back from the dead. She was so young, so buoyant, so gay, so merry, so light-hearted; and now, alas! the likeness is still more striking." The woman paused. There were tears in her voice and in her eyes. The work-hardened, weather-stained hand which rested on the dresser trembled with emotion. " Miss Thurston/' she cried, passionately, " you are her nurse; you have some authority. What is to be done? "

I was struck dumb. So much was this story in excess of anything that I had imagined; yet I was not altogether surprised. I had suspected something of the kind; for it could not be denied that the "house itself, and especially that one room, exercised an evil influence on Anna Gresham which I had never been able to understand or explain, but which was now fully accounted for. The room was charged ' like an electric battery with sad thoughts of pain, despair, and death. Any hypersensitive person was liable to be affected by them, especially one who, like Anna, had the subjective side of her nature more than usually developed, and was further connected by close ties of blood relationship and heredity with the woman who, according to Mrs Mac's statement, had been done to death in that room 35 years before. It was an extraordinary story, but I could not doubt its 'truth. Was not the evidence before my eyes? What was to be done ? Could anything be done 1 And if so, what? The woman before me had tried to save- the first victim, and failed. Should Ibe more successful with the second ! I could not disguise from myself that there were many and great difficulties in the way. The chief lay with Mr Gresham. It appeared certain that in some manner he had divined or observed the evil influence of this room on his stepdaughter, and was resolved to make use of it for his own purposes. How he had discovered it I never knew ; perhaps by accident; perhaps by the study of modern psychological literature. It is possible that he may have brought the girl at first to Moana with the intention of making away with her, but of this I have no proof, and perhaps I ought not to suggest it; but I feel sure that he was capable of that or any other crime. And then finding by accident the extraordinary influence of the fatal room, he allowed it to do the work for him, as slowly, insiduously, certainly, as if he had administered poison by his own hand. How else account for his determination to keep Anna at Moana, and always in that one apartment. ? His wife was a mere tool in his hands. She had never been healthily or fully developed in mind or body; inheriting from the one parent a poor constitution, and from the other an evil mind. She had gradually fallen completely under her husband's influence, and believed as he commanded. Thus she really thought that Anna was delicate and consumptive, and did not perceive that the means suggested for her recovery were actually leading to her destruction ; that, in truth, she was being done to death in the most subtle manner possible, Mr Gresham's own brusque manner and boasted materialism and freethought being only masks to divert suspicion. Should I open her eyes, or, rather, could I do so? I thought it was more than doubtful. How could I hope to upset the influence and training of 20 years? And to warn her ineffectually would be to throw away Anna's last chance, for she would certainly put Mr Gresham on his guard, and the two together would circumvent any scheme that I could devise. Neither could I tell Anna. I knew enough of her imaginative and sensitive nature to be sure that the knowledge of her grandmother's story would only increase her trouble. She would brood upon the dead woman's fate until she made it her own, and identified herself with her unhappy ancestress. No; I must act independently of either of them. Without their knowledge, and even against their will. You must know that we nurses are persons of routine ; trained to be intelligent machines in the hands of the doctors, and I naturally shrank a little from incurring the responsibility of independent action in an important case like this. Yet the saving of life and reason might depend on prompt and decisive action. I reasoned thus. Anna was ill, very ill, but her illness •was of the soul rather than of the body ; no material remedies «ould reach it. We all know how the mind acts and re-acts upon the body, producing all sorts of abnormal symptoms; and we also know that what we are accustomed to call the mmd — namely, the reasoning faculty, is not always the one •concerned; but rather that deeper and more subtle essence "which we call the soul. In Anna's case it could not be the mind which suffered, as she knew nothing of her grandmother's story. The influence was purely psychic. I remembered how bright and happy she had been at St. Clair, and even in the gardens at Moana, and I knew that there was only one thing to be done — to remove her as quickly as possible from that fatal house. How was it to be managed? Of course I could urge the physical plea of dampness and unhygienic conditions, and had the parents been on my side it would have been easily managed ; or, failing that, if I could have a doctor's directions it might have been accomplished in spite of them. Ah ! that reminded me of Dr Lomax's sealed orders : "To be Opened When Necessary." Surely the time was now come. He had foreseen and provided for this contingency.

I went hastily to the Gladstone bag which contained my small travelling kit, and drew from the inner pocket the thin envelope addressed in the doctor's crabbed scrawl. I tore it open, and drew out a strip of paper which contained these words : " She is the victim of an evil influence. Try and find out what it is, and let me know." I had found out, and I sat down and wrote the doctor a long explanatory letter. And then I felt better ; some of the responsibility wa-s lifted off my shoulders. Thei'e was no postman at Moana, but the Gresham's mail was left at the litle railway station, and the boy who brought it , took any letters there .might be, and gave T tjiem to the guard. It was a primitive arrangement, but answered well enough, for the inhabitants of the station were not great correspondents. The bag was hung in the hall, and all who had letters to send put them in it. I followed the general plan, and immediately began to calculate how soon I could hear from the doctor. I never doubted that he would reply to my communication as soon as he received it, and if so I could get this answer on the third day. I schooled myself to patience and the task of keeping up Anna's spirits. She was distinctly worse, weaker and more prostrate, and it was impossible to disguise from oneself that she was fading slowly out of life, and that if some change were not effected she would drift out to sea from the mere want of a tight anchorage. I tried for the hundredth time to arouse in her the will to live, but I could not. " Why do you wish to die, Anna? " " I don't wish it. Ido not wish for anything except for sleep. Again all last night I could not sleep. My heart was too full of trouble. I wept, and Ido not know why I wept ; yet I seemed to shed tears of blood. It is very strange, Rhoda. I have no real grief, and yet death seems to me the only thing possible or desirable, so much am I overcome by this sense of misery and despair."

I expatiated on the beauties of this world, on the many good things of life, travel in other countries, the delight of helping and serving others, of the many blessings that money can buy. I spoke to deaf ears. " Sleep is best," she said, and closed her weary eyes. "If you love me, Rhoda, let me sleep." I obeyed. The rain outside fell in a steady, persistent drizzle; the fog reached to the very windows, a clammy, miasmatic fog born of all the evil exhalations from neighbouring swamps and flooded creeks — a fog which at times invaded the room and made the far end of it indistinct and misty. A small fire crackled on the hearth, for although Mrs Gresham declared that the apartment was already too warm, the atmosphere affected the patient's throat and lungs, and I persisted on keeping up the fire. Anna slept. The white pillows were scarcely whiter than her face; the arched mouth was slightly open, the heavy lids closed over the weary eyes, the golden threads of the auburn hair framed the face in an auriole. She looked like a beautiful corpse, and a physical pain, like that of an iron hand laid upon it, tightened my heart. Tears rose to my eyes, but I dashed them resolutely away. She was not dead. She should not die. This girl whom I had only known for a month, and whom I already loved more than any woman I have ever seen, before or since. I went into the kitchen to prepare her luncb. Mrs Mac was expecting me. I had asked her to give me a few hours for thought. I had been thinking all night, with the result already related. I told her what I had done. " And so you have written to the doctor. Where's the letter? "

" In the bag in the hall, unless Tom has already started for the station." She gave me a strange look. " Go and see if it is there." I did so; the bag was gone. " Tom must have taken it," I said, returning to the kitchen. "He has gone to the station," she said ; " but I heard the master say that there were no letters." " Perhaps he did not see mine." " Perhaps not." We looked into each other's eyes. I answered her unspoken thought. " He dare not keep back my letter." " He might read it and seal it up again." The bare suspicion made the cold sweat start out on my body. I remembered one or two sentences in that letter, and felt sure that if Mr Gresham read them he would not easily forgive them. They 'would give him the excuse which he had so long been seeking to drive me from the house. The hand with which I was beating the cream trembled like an aspen. " Courage," said my companion, taking the bowl from my hands. " Write another and a stronger letter and I will see that it goes." At that moment Mrs Gresham entered, restless and flighty as ever. "What's all this talking about? You here, Miss Thurston. May I ask the reason ? " " I have come for some cream for Anna." " For Miss Gresham," she corrected. "Do you think that so much cream is good for her? Is it not rather bilious'^ " It's very good for her," I answered stoutly, " and when, well beaten and aerated it is not bilious." '" Oh, jou young people think you know everything on the strength of your twopenny-halfpenny exams. ; but 1 believe that cream is too strong for a delicate girl like Anna. However, if you want that or anything else you can ring." " It's not much use ringing when there is no one to answer the bell," said the cook, coming to my rescue. " Rose is ill this morning; she says she has influenza. " "But Jean is all right." " Oh, yes, but she is waiting on Rose. They both need a deal of attention, and so Miss Thurston has to look after her own patient." Mrs Gresham hopped across the kitchen, and alighted beside the dresser. " It's very annoying," she said, pettishly, " those sort of people ought not to be ill. If they don't take care I'll pack them both off. One invalid in the house is enough. Mr Gresham is very much annoyed." I saw a smile cross the cook's face, but she said nothing. Silence is a great gift. I took up the bowl of cream and went out. Mr Gresham met me in the hall-. "Is this yours?" he said, twirling between his great finger and thumb the letter which I had written in the small hours of the morning to Dr Lomax. I looked steadily in his eyes. I saw that he had not yet opened it, but that he meant to do so, perhaps before me. My decision was taken in a moment. " Yes," I said, carelessly, " I wrote to the doctor to ask if he had another case for me. Ido not care for these slow cases. I like an operation or something more exciting." Did he believe me? I was not sure. It was a case of diamond cut diamond. "Are you leaving us, then?" " Probably in a few days." " Anna will be sorry." " Anna will not need me long." His face changed ; a horrible and cruel light shone in his eyes. "What do you mean? Is she ?" " She is now much worse. I shall soon want a new situation." "You think so? Very well; wait, wait till — till the end," he whispered; "you shall be well paid." My nerves were strained to their utmost tension. I could not have given him a verbal answer had my life depended upon it. An intense horror and loathing took possession of me. It was as if a deadly serpent had risen in my path and raised his cruel head against me. His red eyes glared into mine demanding some sign of acquiescence, and his hot, evil breath tainted the air. " You will stay," he repeated. I longed frantically to throw down the gage of battle, to dare and defy him, to tell him what I honestly thought of him, to let him see that he had betrayed himself, and that I knew him for what he was — a cowardly, secret murderer. But wiser counsels prevailed. I must meet and fight him with his own weapons if I would hope to conquer. I nodded, and called up a sickly smile of consent, and taking the letter from his unresisting hand tore it in two and thrust it into my apron pocket.

"That's right; we understand each other," he said -with a grin, and I saw the gaps in his yellow, discoloured teeth, and sickened at the sight. The laughter of a fiend must be more terrible than his curse. He drew back, still laughing, and I went down the passage to Anna's room. She was awake. " I can only sleep when you are beside me,' she said. *' The moment you go out of the room I waken." " Then I won't leave you again. Take this cream to please me, and I will sit by your side and hold your hand." She smiled faintly and tried to obey me, but the will was lacking. " Mamma has been in. She was angry at finding you away and said some hard things. She tried to put out the fire. She said the room was too hot. Is it? " "It is very close and damp everywhere," I said; " one of the most unpleasant days that I can remember. But we won't think of it; let us read and talk." " I am too tired to talk,'' she said, wearily. " but you may read if you will." Later in the day I wrote a stronger letter to Dr Lomax, and gave it to Mrs Mac, who promised that it should be safely posted in time for the next morning's mail. That would be the 17th. We could not get an answer before the 20th or 21st, and much might happen before then.