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25 chapters
The Thing Beyond Reason
The Thing Beyond Reason
The house was very quiet to-night. There was nothing to disturb Miss Alexandra Moran but the placid ticking of the clock and the faint stir of the curtains at the open window. For that matter, a considerable amount of noise would not have troubled her just then. As she sat at the library table, the light of the shaded lamp shone upon her bright, ruffled head bent over her work in fiercest concentration. She was chewing the end of a badly damaged lead pencil, and she was scowling. “No!” she said,
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II
II
Lexy’s first impulse was to close the door of that empty room, and to hold her tongue. It seemed to her that it would be treachery to Caroline to tell Mrs. Enderby. She and Caroline were both young, both of the same generation; they ought to stand loyally together against the tyrannical older people. “Because, golly, what a row there’d be if Mrs. Enderby ever knew she’d gone out!” Lexy thought. That was how she saw it, at first. Caroline had pretended to have a headache so that she would be left
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III
III
It seemed perfectly natural to be awakened in the morning by Mrs. Enderby’s hand on her shoulder, and to look up into Mrs. Enderby’s flashing black eyes. Lexy had gone to sleep dominated by the thought of that masterful woman. She vaguely remembered having dreamed of her, and when she opened her eyes—there she was. “Get up!” said Mrs. Enderby in a low voice. “Go into Caroline’s room. When Annie comes with the breakfast tray, take it from her at the door. I have told her that Caroline is ill with
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IV
IV
“Do you mind if I go out for a walk?” asked the crestfallen Lexy; for that was her instinct in any sort of trouble—to get out into the fresh air and walk. “No,” answered Mrs. Enderby; “but I shall ask you to return in half an hour. There is much to be done.” “Done!” cried Lexy. “But what can be done—now?” “That I shall tell you when you return,” said Mrs. Enderby. “In the meantime, I trust you to say nothing of all this to any person whatever. You understand, Miss Moran?” Miss Moran certainly di
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V
V
Lexy was late. The half hour had been considerably exceeded when she ran up the steps of the Enderbys house. She rang the bell, and the door was opened promptly by Annie. “Mrs. Enderby would like to see you at once, miss,” the parlor maid said primly. But Lexy stopped to look covertly at Annie. Did she know anything? It was possible. Anything was possible now. Lexy was obliged to admit, however, that Annie had no appearance of guilt or mystery. A brisk and sober woman of middle age, who had been
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VI
VI
The car took them to a drowsy little village, and stopped before a small cottage on a side street. Mrs. Enderby got out, followed by Lexy, the living ghost of Caroline. Side by side they went up the flagged path and on to the porch. Mrs. Enderby rang the bell, and in a moment the door was opened by a thin, sandy-haired woman in spectacles. “Mrs. Enderby!” she cried, her plain face lighting up in a delighted smile. “And my dear little Caroline!” She held out her hand to Lexy, and suddenly her fac
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VII
VII
“So you are still of the same mind?” inquired Mrs. Enderby. “More so, if anything,” Lexy answered seriously. It was after breakfast the next morning. Mr. Enderby had gone to his office, and Mrs. Enderby and Lexy were alone in the dining room. There was an odd sort of friendliness between them. Lexy felt no constraint in asking questions. “There isn’t any letter this morning, is there, Mrs. Enderby?” “There is not.” “Then I suppose you’re going to tell Mr. Enderby?” “This evening.” “And then?” “T
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VIII
VIII
Now it certainly was not Lexy’s way to take any great interest in strange young men. There was not a trace of coquetry in her honest heart, and she had always looked upon the little flirtations of her friends with distaste and wonder. “ I’m not romantic!” she had said more than once. She believed that. She would have denied indignantly that her present mission was romantic. She thought it a matter-of-course thing which she was in honor bound to do for her friend Caroline Enderby. She felt that s
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IX
IX
It was an excellent supper, and Captain Grey and Lexy thoroughly appreciated it. They ate with healthy appetites, and they talked. Mrs. Royce, from the kitchen, heard their cheerful, friendly voices, and their laughter, and she didn’t for one moment believe that they had never met before. Listening to them, she wore that benevolent smile once more, and felt sure that she had encountered a very charming little romance. It was all Lexy’s doing. It was Lexy’s beautiful talent, to be able to create
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X
X
Lexy slept late the next morning. It was nearly nine o’clock when she opened her eyes. She lay for a few minutes, looking about her. The gray light of another rainy day filled the neat, unfamiliar little room, and outside the window she could see the branches of a little pear tree rocking in the wind. “I’m here in Wyngate,” she said to herself. “I was bent on coming here to find Caroline; and now, here I am, and how am I going to begin?” She got up, and washed in cold water, in a queer, old-fash
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XI
XI
Feathers would not have knocked down the sturdy Lexy, however. On the contrary, she was pleased and interested by this utterly unexpected visit. The sinister doctor here, in this house, and asking for her! She started promptly toward the stairs. “Miss Moran!” cautioned the landlady, in a whisper. “Don’t tell him nothing!” “Tell him!” said Lexy. “But I haven’t anything to tell!” “Well, you’d best be very careful!” said Mrs. Royce. With this solemn warning in her ears, Lexy descended the stairs. S
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XII
XII
At half past twelve Captain Grey had not yet returned, and Mrs. Royce declared that the ham omelet would be ruined if not eaten at once; so Lexy went down to the dining room and ate her lunch alone. The rain was still falling steadily, and the little room was dim, chilly, and, to Lexy, unbearably close. She wasn’t particularly hungry, either, after such a hearty breakfast and no exercise. She felt restless and uneasy. When Mrs. Royce went out into the kitchen to fetch the dessert, she jumped up
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XIII
XIII
The doctor’s library had a charm of its own. It was a big room, careless, a little shabby, but furnished in fastidious taste and with a friendly sort of comfort. A great wood fire was blazing on the hearth, and Dr. Quelton drew up an armchair before it for Lexy. “There!” he said. “Now you’ll soon be warm and dry. Anna!” “Yes, sir!” the parlor maid responded from the doorway. “Please tell Mrs. Quelton that Miss Moran is here.” “Yes, sir!” repeated the maid, and disappeared. Lexy sat down. Captain
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XIV
XIV
Lexy sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped loosely before her, her bright head bent, her eyes fixed somberly upon nothing; and she could see nothing—not one step of the way that lay ahead of her. She could not think what she ought to do next. For the first time in her life, she had a feeling of utter confusion and dismay. “It’s because I’m so tired,” she said to herself. “I’ve never been really tired out before.” But that in itself was a cause for alarm. Why should she feel like this, so
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XV
XV
There were no stars and no moon, for the sky was filled with wild black clouds flying before the wind. Lexy could not guess at the time. She had no idea where she was, but it didn’t matter. The morning would come some time, and the road would lead somewhere. “It’s better here,” she said to herself. “I’d far, far rather be here, wherever it is, than shut up in that room with the thoughts I had!” Those thoughts, those fears, had utterly gone from her now, but the memory of them was horrible. She s
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XVI
XVI
Lexy came down to breakfast a little late the next morning, but in the best of spirits, and with a ferocious appetite. She had no idea how or when she had left the house the night before, but obviously neither Mrs. Royce nor Captain Grey knew anything about it, and that sufficed. She could go on eating, quite untroubled by their friendly anxiety. Let them think what they chose—it no longer mattered to her. For, in spite of the warm liking she had for them both, she felt entirely cut off from the
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XVII
XVII
Captain Grey was enchanted with the idea of Lexy’s spending a week with his sister. He was going, too. Indeed, Lexy felt sure that Mrs. Quelton had wanted him to go there some time ago, and that he had refused simply on her own account. He didn’t like to leave her alone at Mrs. Royce’s, and after her nervous breakdown that afternoon nothing could have induced him to do so. He was anxious about her. He tried, with what he believed was great tact, to find out her plans for the future. He was genui
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XVIII
XVIII
The clock struck eleven. Lexy glanced up from her book, in the vain hope that somebody would speak, would stir, would make some move to end this intolerable evening; but nobody did. Dr. Quelton and Captain Grey were playing chess. They sat facing each other at a small table, in a haze of tobacco smoke, silent and intent, as if they had been gods deciding human destinies. Mrs. Quelton lay on her chaise longue , doing nothing at all. If Lexy spoke to her, she answered in a low tone, but cheerfully
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XIX
XIX
“Then you’re not going to do anything?” asked Lexy. “My dear Miss Moran, what in the world can I do?” returned Captain Grey, with a sort of despair. They were sitting together on the veranda in the warm morning sunshine. They had had breakfast in the dining room, with the doctor—an excellent breakfast. The doctor had been at his best—courteous, affable, very attentive to his guests. Everything in his manner tended to reassure the young soldier. Everything in the world seemed to tend in that dire
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XX
XX
“I don’t care!” said Lexy to herself. “I’ll come back!” She did not wish to have her bag sent after her. She packed it in great haste, put on her hat and coat, and, opening the door of her room, stepped out cautiously and looked up and down the corridor. There was no one in sight, so she picked up her bag and set forth. She was running away—worse than that, she was being driven away; but just at the moment she could see no other course open to her. She could not appeal to Captain Grey while he w
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XXI
XXI
Mrs. Royce was very much pleased to see her pet, Miss Moran, return. She was well disposed toward Mr. Houseman, too, and willingly agreed to put him up for a few days. She set to work at once to cook a good lunch for them, but she did not hum under her breath, as was her usual habit. In fact, she was greatly perplexed and worried. When her guests were seated at the table, she retired, leaving them alone; but she did not go very far. She remained close to the door, so that she could look through
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XXII
XXII
They set off together down the village street. There was no one about at that hour. All Wyngate was partaking of its Sunday night supper within doors, and one or two of the little wooden houses showed lights in the front windows; but for the most part life was concentrated in the kitchen. The drug store was locked, but a dim light was burning inside, and a vigorous ringing of the night bell brought Mr. Binz, the owner, to open the door. He was deeply interested in their errand. He suggested St.
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XXIII
XXIII
When she looked back upon the experiences of that dreadful night, it seemed to Lexy that both she and her companion displayed almost incredible endurance. Since morning they had lived through a very lifetime of emotion, to end now in this tragedy more horrible than anything they could have feared. Yet, not five minutes after his cry of agony, Captain Grey had recovered his self-control. He was able to speak quietly to Lexy, and she was able to answer him no less quietly. “We’d better go,” he sai
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XXIV
XXIV
If Lexy had not caught the unhappy woman, she would have fallen; but those sturdy young arms held her, and, with Mrs. Royce’s help, they got her on the bed. White as a ghost, incredibly frail in her black dress, she lay there, scarcely seeming to breathe. “It ain’t Mrs. Quelton!” repeated Mrs. Royce, in a whisper. “I know!” said Lexy softly. “Will you get me water and a towel, please?” Mrs. Royce went out of the room, and Lexy knelt down beside the bed. She did know now—the woman whom they had a
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XXV
XXV
After all, Lexy’s search for Charles Houseman was neither difficult nor heroic, except in intention. She found him in the Lymewell Hospital. Joe told her where he was, and Joe took her there. Houseman himself was rigidly determined not to be heroic. He had refused to go to bed, and Lexy found him in a bare, whitewashed waiting room, where he sat on a bench. “Just came in to get the hand dressed,” he said. “I’ll go back with you now.” The doctor advised him not to, but Charles was not very suscep
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