OCR Text |
Show Had I been my own mistress I should never had served Marie Rosis. But poverty, the need of food and raiment, the hungry mouths that must be filled were too strong for me, and I engaged myself to her. "You are poor, Louise," she said with a slight French accent. "Money is of no account to me - I only ask you to be faithful. I said that I should travel; so you must supply your brother's and sister's wants before we go. I shall be liberal with you. Take this." As she spoke, she reached out six or eight half-eagles. I drew back my hand. "It is too much," I said. "Allow me to be the judge of that. I know what will be required of you." A little chill ran over me. What would be required of me. I looked up to see, if possible, what meaning lay hidden beneath her words. "I shall travel as fancy pleases," she continued. "One spot is as pleasant to me as another. I go in search of something which I have lost. It may be here, it may be there. I have nothing to guide me in my search. It is all blind chance." At first I was happy in my migratory life. I used to long for home - or what had been home - and for the caresses of those I loved. But this did not last long. Marie Rosis grew to be the world to me and I her bond slave. Sometimes we rested for two or three weeks from our travels, and then went forward, day after day, week after week, without stopping. I do not know how long I had been with her when I discovered that we were not travelling alone - that we had a follower, who pursued us from place to place with unwavering persistence. He did not seem to be conscious of us. He never addressed us - he only followed us like a shadow. It was after the stranger came that I learned what madame was searching for. A ring had mysteriously disappeared from her finger one night while she was sleeping. A strange ring, with a garnet heart for its center - all that she had left of Monsieur Rosis. I glanced at her in surprise. "Was it your wedding ring?" "Better than that, Monsieur Rosis gave it to me while he was dying. He came back to life to give it to me - just as we turn back when we have forgotten something." He gave it to me and said that a curse would follow me if I lost it. I did not lose it - It went away from me; but I am not happy as Monsieur Rosis was very hard." "But you are not to blame for what you could not help." "Ah, but if a lover took it?" she said, shaking her head slowly. "I had fallen asleep in the drawing room as the day was warm. When I awoke Monsieur's heart was gone and the air full of shadows. I have been searching ever since for it." She began pacing up and down the room. We were stopping for a week at a hotel in a large inland town. This conversation had been carried on in the parlor, a long, wide room, looking eastward. As madame walked, I thought I had never seen her half so beautiful. While she went to and fro restlessly, the stranger came noiselessly in and walked beside her. She did not notice him but looked straight out of the window to the green trees and beyond them to the wide sunset. For myself I grew angry and heated at the stranger's boldness. If he had anything to say to her why did he not speak? What right had he to dog her steps so persistently? At least I would tell madame. As I started forward to speak the strange gentleman raised his hand to her forehead and I saw something on it that glowed blood red in the sunlight. I looked at it eagerly and saw the shape of a heart outlined on the slender finger. My heart bounded. Here was the lover that had stolen Madame's ring. It should be restored to her and once more she should know happiness. Ah, how frightened I got, though. While my lips were parted to speak and my hand reached forth to touch his arm, he was gone and I stood quite alone with Madame Rosis. "What makes you so white?" she asked, stopping short her walk. "Why he has gone!" "Who has gone?" "The gentleman who walked beside you." "Indeed, who so honored me?" she said incredulously. "I was busy with my thoughts." "A strange gentleman walked with you - near you - and as I started toward him he disappeared." Madame laughed a low, musical laugh, but I saw that the white hand that clasped her scarlet mantle over her heart was shaking. Her lips grew white and dry. "I hope he was handsome." "Very, with a mouth like a girls." Her forehead grew puckered in scowls. "And what else?" "He wore a ring with a blood red heart." I pray that I may never on earth see a face so fearful as was Madame's at that moment. I put up a quick prayer for I thought she was about to kill me. She clutched both hands around my arm and held me closely to her. "How dare you girl?" "I could not help seeing him," I said. "There he is now outside looking in at the window." She cowered down at my feet and covered her eyes with my mantle. I do not know how long I stood there, or how long she knelt without moving. I know the figure stood motionless at the window, looking at me with steady unwavering eyes. Would he never go? Would he hold us forever with the quiet unflinching gaze? At that moment I shrieked and Madame sprang to her feet. A crowd came to see us and I fell back fainting. In the morning we started. It was summer time, and our way led through the richest of earth's gardens. All was beautiful from the sky downward - birds, flowers, fruit, and velvety greensward. In spite of everything I was happy. "We will soon have a long rest," said madame, as we whirled along. "You shall hear from your brother and sister at home." I was looking out of the window as she spoke. As I turned my face to her, I felt someone touching my shoulder. I turned quickly. The stranger was sitting near me in the train. His presence seemed so real to me that I spoke out angrily: "If you please, sir -" Madame looked around. "To whom are you speaking, Louise?" I knew then, that whatever I saw, whether man or evil one, Madame Rosis was conscious of nothing. I looked over the face - at the blue eyes and gentle mouth, down at the white hands and red ring, without a word. "Monsieur Rosis," I thought. "But why does he follow Madame?" We rode the day through with the fair, immovable figure beside us, and the doctor in the next carriage. The one seemed to counteract the influence of the other. Nothing could harm me. At night we came to our resting place. "Here we shall find the ring," said Madame, as we hurried out of the train. "It is like an inspiration. I feel it through and through." We did not go to a hotel, but to a house near the outskirts of the town. I know the coachman of the fly stared at Madame when she told him where to drive us. The night was very dark. Looking around for my friend, I could not see him, and I thought I was lost. Warm as was the night, the place to which we went was chilly. Madame had fires started in the grates and ordered wine to be brought. "Where are we?" I asked. "Pardon me for not saying. This is my house. No one dares intrude here." No one? Was Madame so sure? As she spoke, the pleasant-faced stranger, ghost or man, came noiselessly in, and sat down by the fire. He wore the same expression as when I had first seen him. Glancing at his hand, I saw the blood-red ring glowing on his finger. "You do not drink?" madame said, as I sat holding my wine glass. "What is it?" I put down the glass with a shudder. "Madame Rosis, I want to go home." "This is your home. By day it is beautiful. Tonight I know there are shadows - and it is cold. We can have more fire." "That is not it - I want my sister. I seem to be stifling here." "Well, well - I will play to you. I will sing." She threw open the piano. Good heavens, what a wail came from it as her delicate finger ran up and down the keys! Wild unrest, agony, despair, found voice in the melody which she awakened. Then her little hands pattered softly down, and her voice broke out softly to the weird accompaniment. Through it all I could hear the falling of ghostly feet, the whispers from shadowy lips. The stranger listened at her side; so close was his face to hers that in an unsteady light they seemed to mingle and waver together. Where was I? The atmosphere was like that of a tomb. Was I among flesh and blood realities, or had I been drawn into the charnel house to expiate some sin which I had committed? Sin, indeed! What did I know about sin? "Don't madame - don't!" I cried. "You are driving me mad! Let me go - in the name of mercy, let me go!" "You need rest," spoke the madame. "You are nervous. You shall go to your room and have support there." She led me like a child. What could I do? Upstairs it was more cheerful. The fire was fresh and the lamps gave out a clear steady light. I drew a sigh of relief. "You like it?" said Madame. "How can I help it?" "I am glad. My room is opposite. In the night if you are awakened, you can come to me. But I think you will sleep. I will send your supper to you in a moment." I did not wait for supper. Thoroughly exhausted, bodily and mentally, I sank upon the bed. I do not know how long I slept. I started up suddenly from my pillow, a fearful shriek entering through my brain. It was Madame's voice that aroused me. In a moment there was a sound of hurried feet in the hall, a murmur of strange voices, and someone threw open the door opposite mine. I stole softly out and crossed the hall to Madame's room. There was a group of strange people standing by her bedside. A voice said, "She is dead." "What is it - what killed her?" "I do not know. Probably her heart was diseased. Some sudden fright did it. The detectives have been on her track for weeks." "The detectives? Why?" "She poisoned Monsieur Rosis, her husband. That is his portrait yonder," said the physician. I gave one glance toward it. I had little need to look at it, since the face was so terribly familiar. "She has escaped justice," someone said solemnly. "You are mistaken; she has gone to meet it." "See!" cried another in a startled voice, "She wore her ring again." I looked down at the little waxen hand, now clear cold. On the white forefinger the heart of Monsieur Rosis glowed and burned. It was plain to me, no matter what others thought. Madame had died of fright when the ring was placed on her finger. Her impression had been true. She had that night found her ring. Let us hope, too, that in God's wide mercy she found rest. |