The White Cat

Part Second I

My machine had been repaired for a week, but I had not had it brought up to town, when I received a note from Leah. It was dated “Tuesday.”

“Come down immediately,” she wrote, “if you can think of a plausible pretext, but don’t say that I sent for you. Miss Fielding will not ask you, herself, but we need you very much. I trust to you.”

I took an early afternoon train the next day, and, finding no one to meet me at the station, engaged a carriage to take me over to Miss Fielding’s place. My driver would, I am sure, have been glad to gossip with me upon the lady’s affairs, but I headed off all his hints, knowing pretty well from Uncle Jerdon’s insinuations what the tenor of the neighborhood talk must be.

Midmeadows was about four miles from the station, and a half-mile back from the county road. The house was approached by two long lanes overgrown with shrubbery and hazels, one from the seaside on the east, and one from the main road on the north. We took the latter, a wild and tangled wagon-track, filled with stones and hummocks, and worn into deep holes. The boughs of trees constantly scraped across the top of the buggy and often hung low enough to threaten our eyes. Near the house, the lane took a turn round the corner of an extensive, old-fashioned garden of hollyhocks, rose-bushes, poppies and violets, then swung up to the green, eight-paneled front door, with its transom of old bull’s-eye panes. The copse came in close to the garden, partly inclosing it on two sides. To the right of the house vegetables were planted, with meadows beyond, and behind, the hill rose almost from the stable. The whole place had a charming natural wildness, and seemed, as indeed it was, miles away from any other human habitation; but it was not uncared-for; its natural features had been amended and composed with the care of a true artist.

The house itself was long and low, covered with unstained shingles. A great square brick chimney rose from the middle of the gambrel-roof. The lower windows were leaded and built out into wide bays, but they showed above the little-paned sashes of the original building. The front was almost hidden by climbing Cecil Bruner roses, now odorously in bloom. The southern side was lined with a row of geraniums which rose in huge bushes. Here, in the second story, was another bay-window of curious construction, somewhat resembling the stern of an old galleon. It was Miss Fielding’s sitting-room, which I had not yet visited.

The place seemed deserted, for not even the dogs were visible. I got out and knocked, while my driver waited curiously to catch what was, probably, a rare glimpse of the mistress of the house.

Joy herself, wearing a white duck sailor suit, with a red handkerchief knotted about her neck, answered my knock. She held her hand to her eyes to shade them from the rays of the afternoon sun, so that I could not, at first, quite make out her expression. The first thing she showed, after her surprise, was a most cordial satisfaction at seeing me. She did not, apparently, expect me, but my presence delighted her. I saw next that she was in trouble. The very intensity of her welcome alarmed me. The two vertical lines between her brows were deeply cut into her forehead, her lips were quivering, there were dark circles under her eyes.

She drew me quickly into the library, and I saw terror in her look. Her cheeks were pale and wan. Her hand trembled, as it lay on the back of a chair where she leaned.

“Oh, I am so glad you have come!” had been her first speech, murmured in the hall, and it was repeated now as I stood before her. “I am so glad you have come! I need you so!”

I had fancied before that her face was one capable of expressing tragedy—not every woman’s is. Tragedy shadowed her face now, giving her a newer, more dramatic beauty so moving that, despite my alarm, I could not help wondering at it.

“You are not well,” I exclaimed.

“Oh, well enough—” she replied.

“Something is the matter—what is it?”

“Sit down and I’ll try to tell you.” She dropped into a chair, with her elbow on the table, letting her cheek fall into the hollow of her palm. Her eyes closed for a moment; the soft, long lashes shading her pale cheek. Then she shook herself and sat erect. “I’m so sleepy!” she moaned. “I haven’t slept since night before last.”

I sprang up from the window-seat. “Won’t you lie down here and rest? Do!” I pleaded.

“Oh, I don’t dare! I don’t dare!” she cried.

“Tell me what is troubling you, so that I may try to help you!”

She looked up and said, “Leah has gone!” and she put out a hand that trembled with a despairing gesture.

“Gone?” I repeated. “Where!”

“I don’t know where. I don’t know when she went. I don’t know even why.”

“Do you fear she has met with an accident, then?”

“Oh, no, not that. Worse than that!” She spoke helplessly.

“Worse?” I could not understand.

“I mean I think I must have driven her away.”

I still could not guess. “Why, how could you have done that? You mean that she took offense at something, perhaps?”

“Oh, I must have made it impossible for her to stay.”

“But what did you do? She was devoted to you.”

She sprang up and wailed out with bitter vehemence, “Oh, I don’t know! I don’t know! If I only knew, I could do something. But what can I do, now? She’s gone. She was my right hand, my eyes, my ears, my memory—but it’s not that! It’s that I could have been cruel enough to her to drive her away. Where is she? Where could she have gone, do you think? I’ve waited and waited to hear from her, or for her to come back—two whole days! I didn’t go to bed at all last night. I didn’t dare, lest she should come while I was asleep.”

“You expect her to return, then?”

She was walking up and down the room, her hands clasped behind her back tightly. I could see that she was on the verge of hysteria. She turned to me again, and said:

“Oh, Leah would never abandon me, never! She’s too true for that. But she’s afraid to come back!”

I went up to her and led her gently to the seat.

“Now,” I said, “tell me exactly what has happened.”

She broke out again wildly, her face twitching with excitement. “I don’t know! Don’t you see I don’t know? That’s the horror of it! I may have killed her, for all I know!”

“Ah! Do you mean,” I began, afraid to say it, “that you’ve forgotten?”

She stared at me. “Forgotten? Well, you may call it that. Yes, I’ve forgotten.” She put her face into the pillow and began to sob convulsively. After this nervous crisis had spent itself she sat up, wiped her eyes and said with a faint, spectral smile:

“Oh, I’ll have to tell you everything, now. I can’t bear it any longer. It was bad enough while I had Leah to depend upon, but now I must have somebody to confide in, or I shall go mad—if I haven’t already gone mad.”

I looked over at the table where I noticed a coffee-pot and a cup on a salver. “How much coffee have you drunk?” I asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. Cup after cup. I’ve been drinking it all day to keep me awake.”

“That accounts for your nerves. You must rest. If you sleep a little, you’ll get your strength back.”

She sprang up suddenly, her gripped fists raised, her head thrown back in a sudden new access of alarm. “Oh, no, no, no! You don’t understand! I daren’t sleep! I’m afraid—afraid! How do I know what may happen, now when I’m so worn out!”

I had done considerable thinking while I was away, and I had done some reading as well. I was beginning now to make it out, piece by piece, and put it together in an astonishing whole. It was too late, in this crisis, for reserves, too late for me to keep to my promise of not trying to know. The girl was distraught and alone. And, indeed, the door to the cupboard where her skeleton had been hidden was now well ajar.

“You are afraid, you mean, of the other one?” I brought it out deliberately.

She stared at me, like a somnambulist.

“Yes,” she whispered, “of the ‘other one.’”

Then for the first time, and quite unconsciously, I think, she used my name. It seemed so natural to me that I was not surprised.

“Oh, I’m so glad you know, at last, Chester. I’m so glad that it will be easier to tell you.” She put her hand on my arm and looked up at me in tenderest confidence. “Now you know why I called myself the ‘White Cat.’”

“Yes, I see. Don’t be alarmed. I’ll help you. You must calm yourself and we’ll find out a way. I know her, you know.”

“Yes, I know you do. You must tell me all about her, sometime. How you must have hated me!”

“Perhaps I can manage her, but no matter about her, now. We must think it all out, and decide calmly what to do. I’m not afraid. Trust me, and I’ll see you through. It will all come out right, I’m sure.”

I went on so, purposely iterating such phrases to lull her, and key down the intense strain which wrought upon her. Her eyes kept on me, and I saw my influence work—my suggestion, I might say, since it was purposely hypnotic. Her hysteria made her abnormally sensitive to the treatment. She relaxed her attitude slightly, sighed, and dropped back among the silken pillows behind her.

“Oh, you’re so good!” she breathed. “You will help me, I’m sure. You have helped me already! You’re so strong—it’s such a comfort to have you here!” She reached her hand out shyly and put it in mine, where it lay, small and cold. It was the first time she had done so, except under the direct stress of an earnestness strong enough to rob the act of any personal suggestion. It was a distinct caress, fearless and genuine.

“Now,” I said, “begin at the beginning, and tell me all about what has happened.”

She took it up again with a new courage. “As I’ve said, I don’t know when Leah left. I only know that when I rang for her yesterday morning she didn’t come. I went into her room and she wasn’t there. She wasn’t down-stairs. King didn’t know anything about it.”

“Nor Uncle Jerdon?”

“Uncle Jerdon has been away for three days, visiting his nephew, who’s ill. You see, she—the other one—was here for two days running. It hasn’t happened so for years. So whether it happened, whatever did happen, on Monday or Tuesday, I can’t tell. Leah might have left either day.”

“How do you know that ‘the other one’ was here for two days?”

“Only because Sunday is the last thing I remember before yesterday morning. The doctor was down then. You know that there’s a hiatus when she’s here—a perfect blank in my memory. I lose time, as she does, when I’m here.”

Her mention of the doctor started a new train of thought, but I put that by for the present, to tell her of the letter I had received from Leah, which made it probable that she had left on Tuesday, the second day of “the other one.” The situation was serious enough, I was sure, for me to disobey Leah’s injunction to secrecy.

“Oh,” said Joy, “that relieves my mind a little. It shows that Leah had a plan, and she must have stayed somewhere near here, expecting you, though how she happened to miss you, I don’t see. It’s quite right for you to have told me, for I had already telephoned to you—to-day, after you started. I was surprised to see you appear so soon, for that reason. I was at my wits’ end yesterday, but I hated to drag you into this. But what could I do? Doctor Copin has gone out of town for a few days.”

“I’m glad you sent for me,” I said. “I shan’t have to feel that I’m intruding. But now the question is, why doesn’t Leah come back? Why didn’t she wait for me at the station?”

“She must have been awfully frightened, to have gone away like this,” Joy said.

“Perhaps she discharged her—I know she complained of Leah a good deal.”

“Yes, I’ve thought of that. But I fear it’s even worse.”

“In any case, there’s no reason why she shouldn’t come back, now that ‘the other one’ has disappeared,” I said.

“How can Leah tell?” Joy exclaimed. “How will she know whether it is I or ‘the other one’? We’re really the same person, outwardly. There’s no difference that she could recognize unless she talked to me. That’s what has terrified me.”

Then, for the first time, I saw the dilemma. How, indeed, could Leah know? The same woman, the same clothes—but yet, how different! “Have you no sign?” I asked. “Haven’t you ever arranged it with Leah so that she can tell?”

“Oh, not for a case like this. It has never been necessary. You see, the change always comes at night, at least always during sleep, so that when I wake up she can tell right off, by asking me what I’ll have for breakfast. We’ve arranged it so that I shall always give a fanciful reply, and let her give an obvious commonplace one. But now, Leah daren’t come in, for she knows that if I should happen to be ‘the other one,’ there’ll be the same terrible something that happened before—a quarrel, or worse.”

“Still, there are some apparent differences. You dress differently, it seems to me. You usually wear white. Won’t Leah know by her experience of you both?”

“Oh, no; you can’t tell. She’s so whimsical—sometimes she’ll do one thing, and sometimes another, like a child. You can’t depend on her. She’s tricky, too.”

“I could tell, I’m sure—by your eyes. Hers are darker, and the pupils are dilated, aren’t they, usually?”

“Yes—but Leah daren’t come near enough for that, don’t you see? Oh, she must be in agony, poor girl! But how do I know? She may be dead!”

“You forget that she has written to me since leaving.”

“Oh, yes—that is a relief. But I may have hurt her.”

“Oh, Joy! Don’t say you could have—it was not you, it was Edna.”

“Well, how can I tell whether or not I’m responsible?”

“I don’t think she would have struck her,” I said.

“No? She did once, though. She stabbed Leah with a carving-tool on the wrist. It always sickens me to see that scar. Oh, she has a temper! Poor Leah!”

She lay back on the cushions again and closed her eyes. Her hand had relaxed in mine.

I looked at her, so wearied and pale, and said softly:

“You just drop off to sleep for a little while, and I’ll think it over—”

She nerved her body, and pulled herself up.

“Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “I’m dying for sleep, but don’t you see I can’t? If I should fall asleep who would it be that would awake? It might be she.”

“By Jove!” I cried, “I hadn’t thought of that!”

“I’ve thought of nothing else. That’s why I’ve stayed up and kept awake while I am so exhausted. If Leah comes back, she must find me here, and not ‘the other one.’ I must see her and find out what has happened—we must arrange for everything and decide what plan to adopt to circumvent her. Oh, I must keep awake!” Even as she spoke her head dropped again heavily.

“You can’t tell, then, when the change is likely to come?”

“Sometimes I have a feeling—a premonition—like that night, don’t you remember, when I was so blue? I knew that I was going to change. But usually I can’t tell. She has come lately, about two days in the seven, but irregularly. It’s almost always after a deep, heavy sleep. You remember how late she used to lie abed? That’s what worries me now. I’m absolutely exhausted, and if I do fall asleep, I’ll go down deep. So deep, I’m afraid, that I’ll change. Can you think what a horror that is to me? I must stay up till Leah comes. You must promise to keep me awake by every means in your power. But even then, what are we going to do? How can we arrange a way for Leah to get along with her?”

“That’s where I come into the game,” I said. “I think I can solve that problem.”

“How did you get on with her?” Joy asked timidly. It was quite as if she were asking about another woman, and feared to commit an impertinence. “Do you like her?” she added.

“She’s not to be compared to you, of course. But there’s much that’s likable about her, and at least, we get on beautifully. And so we shall this time, if she’ll only let me stay. That’s the difficulty.”

“Oh, she’ll let you stay, she’ll be only too glad. She likes you, Leah says.” Her brows drew together, and I wondered how much she knew.

“Well, then, I’ll undertake to make her keep Leah.”

“Oh, if you can do that—on any terms—we can stand it, both of us. Leah will suffer anything, I’m sure, rather than leave me.”

“One thing more, then—since I must have all the information if I am to do anything—what does she know?”

“About me? Nothing, I think. At least she has never been told, I mean—we’ve always kept it from her. She thinks she’s the only one.”

“I don’t see how that can be possible!”

“It does seem strange; but then, you know she’s mentally undeveloped. In some ways she’s a mere child. And then, too, she has never known it to be any different—why should she suspect that there is another personality—that she isn’t the real Joy Fielding? She’s conscious that she loses time, so to speak, and she thinks it is only the fault of her memory.”

I thought it over a while. Then I said: “She wouldn’t say much about it to me, and so I didn’t quite get her point of view. It baffles me. She must know that she does things in the lapses, even if she doesn’t recall them.”

“I don’t know that she’s even aware of that. She may think that she’s unconscious, during these lapses, but most likely it is just like dreams. Even if we vaguely remember them, for a moment, we forget them, and they don’t seem to have been real—or, perhaps, they’re like delirium, or insane intervals, of which she has no memory. Why, a man may even be simply drunk, and not recall what he has done, and that self is, really, a different personality.”

“But,” I pursued, “do you forget, too?”

“Yes. That is, almost always. At times I have had vague formless memories, as one has of dreams—that’s about as much as this second life ever is associated with my normal one—if what I now have is the normal—how do I know even that? But I have known about the duality almost from the first, and of course Leah keeps me informed of everything that happens. You see, sometimes I’m not even aware that there has been a lapse—I don’t realize that it isn’t just the next day. Leah tells her as little as possible about me. She’s easily managed and put off, usually, but somehow of late she seems to have grown stronger. She seems to be developing mentally. It frightens me a little.”

“You don’t think that anybody has told her, possibly?” I suggested.

“There’s nobody to tell her. Of course Leah never would.”

“Uncle Jerdon?”

“Oh, he thinks I’m crazy, and he never talks, anyway, I’m sure. He doesn’t realize what’s happening, for, after all, we’re not obviously different; she might be taken for me in some queer mood, I mean,” she added.

“King?”

“I believe he thinks that I’m possessed of a devil. Which I think I am!” She paused to smile faintly. “Anyway, he minds his own business. I have an idea that he has a reason for wanting to keep quiet.”

“Or, lastly, then, the doctor?” I put it hesitatingly, yet I wanted to know what she would say. Her answer was prompt.

“He wouldn’t tell, I’m sure. Why, he wants to cure me. It would spoil all chance of that, I think, if she knew.”

I wasn’t so sure of the doctor, after what Leah had said to me, but it would do no good, now, to mention that. She had trouble enough at present not to worry her with new doubts.

“Then, is it possible that she might have come across some evidence of you, in your writings, or something that would arouse her curiosity?”

“Oh, I think she hasn’t the least suspicion. As I said, it must all seem natural enough for her to lose time—she has always done so. Everything is accounted for to her by the fact that she forgets. Of course, I am careful to hide everything that is strictly my own, anything, that is, that she would not understand. Leah keeps all my private letters under lock and key. I’m very careful, for I’ve been on my guard since it first began.”

“How long?” I asked.

“Ever since I was thirteen. That’s when she came first.”

“It’s incredible!” I exclaimed. “Of course, I’ve heard of such multiple personalities, of the celebrated ones, but they’ve seemed only like queer, improbable cases out of a book—monstrosities. Or I’ve regarded them as half-crazed or hysterical or somnambulistic. But you, Miss Fielding! You seem so beautifully sane, so poised, so complete—it’s like a fairy tale. Oh, you are the ‘White Cat’! You are under a spell!”

“It’s only because I’m not a poor girl that I’m not a mere ‘case,’ I assure you. You don’t know what a life I’ve led, how every physician I’ve had has wanted to study me, or put me in a sanatorium or a hospital or an asylum or worse. Yes, if I hadn’t the money, I should probably be in a mad-house at this moment. Do you realize how easy it would be for a physician to put me there? From the ordinary point of view, I’m virtually insane part of the time. I have been in great danger, Chester. But, having some money, I have been able to get away from people and seclude myself and retain my freedom—if you call it freedom to be cheated out of part of your natural life! I have had Leah, and she was enough. She understands, she’s loyal, and she is, above all, wise and good.”

“But the doctor—what about him?”

“Of course I must have a physician at times, and Doctor Copin is a good one, and interested in my case. He has been most kind to me. Of course I am interesting, though, psychologically, and he’s probably written a monograph about me for some medical society already. But I have him chiefly for medical troubles, and to keep general run of this thing, enough to advise me.”

This was rather different from what Edna had led me to believe, so I said:

“He hasn’t attempted to treat you for this psychological dissociation?”

“No. He has wanted to. In fact, he’s always urging me to allow him to see what he can do, but I won’t let him. He wants to hypnotize me—but I don’t quite dare—would you?”

“No,” I said. “I’d advise you not to. If that’s to be done you ought to go to a great specialist.”

I thought I had a clue now that would bear following up, but I decided to think it over a while before I spoke of it.

So intently had we talked, that we had scarcely noticed the darkness which had fallen until King’s gong aroused us. Joy rose wearily.

“Would you mind lighting the candles?” she said.

She waited till all the sconces were burning and then, as I went to the window, she said:

“No, leave the shades up, please! I want the windows left so that Leah, if she comes, may look in. I feel somehow that she is near here, that she will come this evening, if she dares.”

“Why haven’t you been out where she could see you, then? Have you thought to call her?”

She looked at me blankly. “Why, I haven’t thought of that, have I? But would she dare come?”

“Try it now!” I exclaimed.

“I will!” She went to the front door and threw it open and cried:

“Leah!—Leah!—Leah! Come here! It’s all right. I want you, dear!”

There was enough in the scene—the stillness that ensued, the gathering mysterious twilight that shrouded the house, the tragic quaver in Joy’s voice—to make me thrill to its dramatic power. She stood there for a few minutes, all in white, waiting, her hands clasped on her breast, vividly illuminated by the candles. But no sound came out of the shadows of the night.

Joy closed the door; then, with quick second thought, she returned to leave it ajar, and came back into the library.

We had moved almost to the dining-room, when, on a sudden whim, she paused, turned and looked toward the window. My own eyes followed hers. There was a dark face peering in—so dark that the whites of the eyes and the teeth were almost all that was visible, though enough to show who it was.

“Leah!” Joy cried, and ran again to the door, crying out hysterically. She called again, but no answer came.

It occurred to me that the excited accents of Joy’s voice might well be misleading, and for the first time I thought to try myself. Joy had returned, to throw herself down, sobbing, full length upon the window-seat, her heart breaking with the suspense and disappointment. The strain was too much for her, after her hours of hope and fear. I did not stop to comfort her then, but ran to the doorway and stood in the lighted hall there in plain sight.

“Leah!” I called. “Come here, it’s I—Mr. Castle. I want you!”

There was still no reply, but, feeling sure that Leah must be near at hand, I started off vaguely in the dark. I had gone but to the turn of the lane when I heard footsteps, running. Then in a rush Leah was upon me, and had seized my hand.

“Oh, Mr. Castle! I’m so glad you’ve come—but I was afraid to go in. I was afraid I might make it worse if she was there. Who is it? Tell me quick! Is it my own Miss Joy, or the other?”

“It’s Joy,” I assured her, “and she’s waiting for you. You must come at once.”

She paused a moment, evidently wondering if I knew the secret.

“You’re sure?” she said. “You know that there are two?”

“Yes—I know everything, now, and this is Joy—your Joy!”

She bounded forward, and I with her, stumbling in the dark, into the doorway, to the library. There for a moment she stopped, trembling so violently that her teeth chattered audibly. Joy was still lying stretched out at full length upon the cushions of the window-seat. At the first glance Leah did not see her, but then she ran forward, knelt, and threw her arms about her mistress.

But the next instant, starting back as if she had embraced a corpse, she sprang up and faced me, her eyes opened wide in horror.

“Oh, Mr. Castle, she’s asleep! Miss Joy’s asleep!”

II

For a moment I was too surprised to realize the full significance of Leah’s cry. Then Joy’s own words came back—the wail of her harassed soul—“If I should fall asleep, who would it be that would awake?” There she lay, asleep at last. Her small head lay upon her arm, and her oval face was now flushed, her lips half parted, showing her little blue-white teeth. The crisp white duck blouse moved gently with her breathing—beneath her skirt two tiny red shoes lay one over the other.

As she herself had said, she was so utterly exhausted that she would “go down deep.” Dared we awaken her? Certainly not Leah, who, of course, had seen the whole awful possibility on the instant.

I had to decide. What was to be done must be done quickly. If Joy were allowed to sleep long and deeply we might confidently expect “the other one” to awaken. The question was, could we, perhaps, rouse her before that incomprehensible change had taken place? It seemed to be the only thing to do. I determined, at all events, to take the risk.

Meanwhile, Leah had fallen into a chair, overcome with the disappointment of the situation. She was in a distressing state; her skirt was torn and soiled, her shoes dusty, her waist disheveled. Her black hair was awry; she was hatless. I thought at first that she, too, had fallen asleep from sheer fatigue.

I went to her and laid a hand on her shoulder to rouse her. She started with a frightened jump.

“Leah,” I said, “I’m going to awaken Miss Fielding. It’s the only thing to do, I think. We may be able to get her again, before she changes. But if not, we must be ready with some plan by which to manage Edna. We must hurry, though. First, tell me in the fewest possible words what has happened. Joy, of course, didn’t know.”

Leah had braced herself for the ordeal and was now quick, alert and concise. “She got angry on account of my ‘trying to run her,’ she said. You see ‘the other one’ was here for two days. I’ve always been able to manage her for one day, but the second day she seemed to be much stronger, and it was worse than it has ever been before. She found out that I had burned some of her old clothes—Miss Joy had told me to—and so she discharged me and told me to leave the place immediately. I wouldn’t go, and she went into the barn and got a horsewhip and threatened me with it. I was afraid, Mr. Castle! She was in a fearful temper. I was afraid she’d kill me. Then I went. I stayed all night in the Harbor. I wrote to you as soon as I got there, for I couldn’t get you on the telephone. Yesterday I hung about the place all day, but she didn’t appear, and I was afraid to come in. I positively didn’t dare, though I knew it probably was Miss Joy. To-day I stayed in that old cabin down by the road all day, for I was pretty sure it must be she who was here. I was so tired I fell asleep and that’s how I missed you, I suppose. I’ve had hardly anything to eat since yesterday—only a few biscuits I brought with me.”

I had been thinking out a plan as I listened, and as soon as she had finished I gave Leah her orders.

“Listen, now. If it is ‘the other one’ who awakens, I’ll tell her that I happened to meet you in the Harbor, and induced you to come back, on my own responsibility. Do you see? I’ll manage it; you needn’t be afraid. I’ll take care of you, and it will be all right. Of course if it is Joy who wakes up, that will be better. But we must act quickly. Can you tell immediately who it is that awakens, Joy or ‘the other one’?”

“Oh, we can tell that easily enough, by the way she treats me!”

“Very well, then. You must awaken her now!”

I sat down where I could watch, and Leah went hesitatingly up to her mistress again, and shook her shoulder gently.

“Wake up, Miss Joy!” she said softly, but firmly. “Wake up, you’re catching cold, honey.”

Joy moaned, turned a little, then drew herself together again drowsily.

“Wake up, Miss Joy, you must have your dinner now!”

She moved again, and muttered, “Oh, I’m so sleepy! Let me go to sleep, Leah, please!”

Again Leah shook her. It seemed cruel to have to bring that exhausted body back to life. “Wake up, Miss Joy. Mr. Castle’s here to see you! Wake up!”

She opened her eyes now, and stared vacantly at us. Then her face changed gloriously. She flung her arms round Leah’s neck.

“Oh, Leah! Leah! You’ve come back to me!”

It was some moments before either of the women was able to speak. They clung to each other, sobbing.

After the first hurried words of explanation were over, Joy went up to her room to wash her face and freshen herself for what was yet to be done. Leah went with her, almost too happy to think of her own sorry appearance. Both came down, after a while, in a change of costume, and went with me into the dining-room where King was patiently waiting to serve the meal so long delayed. Joy showed plainly the ravages which two days of suspense and agony had accomplished, but she was braced mentally by my presence and Leah’s return, and in a condition to discuss calmly what was to be done. Leah had also rallied from her collapse, and the dinner brought her strength and courage.

The meal was over before we had settled how Leah could be kept in favor with “the other one”—whom we agreed, hereafter, to call Edna—and we were still uncertain as to our actions in regard to many other complications which might arise. It depended principally upon the extent of my influence with Edna. To hear Joy discuss these phases of her condition in that other state—her fondness for me, her whims, her weaknesses—gave me a strange sensation. But what struck me as most remarkable in her talk was the sense of justice she always showed in regard to Edna. One might have expected Joy to resent the intrusion of this second personality, so inimical to her own interests, but she never failed to acknowledge Edna’s rights. Indeed, her whole attitude was that Edna was strictly another person, rather than some part of herself broken off and endowed with an independent existence—which was my theory of the situation.

I quite lost myself in the subtleties of the case. To know that probably on the morrow I should be face to face with this same woman, in form and feature precisely the same, and yet as different from her, really, as the West is from the East, gave me, in spite of my effort to concentrate my mind upon the affair, a sort of mental instability which was disconcerting. I could not quite believe that she would or could change. She seemed too real, too normal, if I may qualify such adjectives. And besides all this, I had begun to think of her in another way, which made the prospect of any such change seem unbearable.

Meanwhile, Joy grew steadily sleepier. She roused herself occasionally, by an effort, but would droop the moment she had stopped speaking. Coffee no longer stimulated her. She began to walk up and down the room, leaning on Leah’s arm, as if she were fighting off the effects of laudanum. Her suffering was cruel. We had, at last, to resort to strychnia.

So, for another hour we talked, while she became more haggard, more weak. Up and down, up and down the room they went. We talked of seeking the advice of some specialist, here or abroad, of the possibility of a direct appeal to Edna, in the chance of some compromise to be effected, of Leah’s actions should she be peremptorily discharged again, of the prospect of her being able to stay in the vicinity, to return as soon as Joy’s own personality had reasserted itself, of the proper method of safeguarding Joy’s property, of the possibility of Edna’s actually departing from Midmeadows—there were a hundred sides to the subject, and all baffling. There seemed to be nothing to do but to await further developments and see if I myself could not succeed in managing Edna. I rather wondered at the fact that Joy did not once mention the doctor as a possible coöperator with us. It seemed to me that she instinctively distrusted him, though she never permitted herself to say so. It was no doubt her fairness, rather than any conviction of his ability, that prevented.

Finally she stopped, scarcely able to hold herself up, as frail as a wilted flower, and said, with an effort at a smile:

“I’m afraid it’s no use, Chester; I’m too far gone to think. I can’t control my mind any longer. I must have sleep. You and Leah will have to settle it together—I’ll leave it all to you—I’ll agree to whatever you think best. I’m no more use than a baby to-night. Let me be your little sister and tell me what to do. I’m tired, tired—tired.”

My heart ached for her. Her mouth was trembling like a child’s just before crying, her eyelids hung heavy, all but closed. What she must suffer at the thought of sinking into temporary oblivion and resigning herself to the inevitable possession of “the other one,” I could easily imagine. I implored her to go to bed.

When the two women had left, I pulled down the curtains, seated myself in the armchair, lighted my pipe and began to think it over.

I had seen Edna but twice, but, from what had happened, I was able to form a fair idea of her character. She was, in the first place, by no means the equal of Joy’s true self. Mentally she was less developed; in some respects, as Joy had said, a mere child. She was inclined to be untidy, full of animal spirits, and constructive, in a mechanical way. She was not fond of animals; not, at least, of the dogs, and the same strain showed itself, I thought, in her prejudice against Leah, as a colored woman. There was something of that lack of charity, also, in the fun she had made of Uncle Jerdon, something of which Joy herself would be incapable. Edna was inclined to be bromic; Joy was indubitably a sulphite. Lastly, there was, I remembered, that hint of—what would I call it?—indiscretion? forwardness?—in the way she had “made up” to me that last evening I spent with her.

Here, perhaps, was a suggestion as to how I might manage her. It was not pleasant; the less so because I must necessarily keep it from both Joy and Leah. From Joy for obvious reasons—I could not think of permitting her to suspect that, even in this other phase, she was in the least lacking in delicacy—from Leah because she was, in her way, finer even than Joy. It would cause her, in fact, the keener suffering to know that any such thing was going on in the house. And yet I could not quite bear to act, even in these circumstances, secretly. The matter had been left to my judgment; but I could not yet make up my mind what was right. It was a choice of two evils, perhaps, but the thought of permitting even the lesser one to obtain troubled me. In a few words, Edna was apparently fond of me. I didn’t care to put it any more strongly than that at present, nor to say that I would admit this basis of friendship as a condition in which I could manage her. But the thought was affording. While I was turning over in my mind this phase of the problem Leah came down.

“She fell asleep while I was undressing her,” she said, taking a chair drearily. “I have never seen her so absolutely exhausted. She’ll sleep late to-morrow; and,” she added with a shudder, “she’ll not wake up herself.”

“Well, then, we’ll have to be prepared for Edna,” I replied.

“I’m so afraid of to-morrow!” said Leah. “Not for myself, you know, Mr. Castle. I’m willing to endure anything. But if she insists upon my leaving here again, what shall I do? I simply can’t leave Miss Joy! What would she ever do without me?”

“I think I can manage it,” I said, though, indeed, I was far from being confident. And then, to draw her out more, I added: “What I’m wondering is, if we hadn’t better send for Doctor Copin.”

“Oh, don’t!” she pleaded. “You must take hold of this alone, Mr. Castle. He’s been down here several times since you left, and I’m more afraid of him than ever. More, even, than I am of her.”

“Why, what has happened?”

“Oh,” she cried, “that’s just what I don’t know. She sent me away usually, and often they were alone together all day. Sometimes they went off on long walks, too.”

“With her—with Edna, I mean, or with Joy?”

“Oh, with Edna, of course—never with Miss Joy herself.”

This gave me more to think about. If she had acted with the doctor as she had with me, a good deal depended upon the kind of man Doctor Copin was.

“You saw nothing, then, to arouse your suspicions?” I asked.

I saw immediately, from her embarrassment, that she had; but she finally said:

“No, nothing to amount to anything, I think.” It was easy to see her motive in this denial, I thought. She could not bring herself to say anything that might seem like an accusation of her mistress, even her mistress in this other person. She went on:

“There’s another thing that worries me. She’s been telephoning to the doctor almost every day. She never did that before, and I can’t understand it. I don’t think of any reason she can have, for physically she’s quite well.”

“You mean Edna has?”

“No! Miss Joy herself. Of course Edna does, all the time.”

“How long since Joy has been doing so?”

“About two weeks—she began, I think, soon after you left.”

“And the doctor has been coming oftener?”

“Yes.”

“Does the doctor come usually when Joy is here, or when Edna is?”

“Almost always when it’s Edna.”

“How does Doctor Copin know when she is here?”

“That’s a mystery. I’ve wondered myself about it, but I don’t know.”

“Leah,” I said, after thinking a while, “do you think you can trust me, whatever you should happen to notice that seems, let us say, a bit too much like what the doctor might be imagined as doing?”

“You mean?” She drew a quick breath. “Oh, that? Why should you suggest it? Don’t ask me to, please!”

“It would be better than permitting you to be driven away, wouldn’t it?” I insisted.

She did not answer.

“I don’t say that any such thing will be necessary,” I added, “but I don’t want you to be surprised at anything. I don’t want, in any way, to be underhanded with you. It seems that you must, in any case, leave it wholly to me. That is, of course, provided there is no one else you can call on.”

“Oh, there’s nobody else! Miss Joy has no near relatives, and any one we might send for would perhaps be only too glad to have her shipped off to an asylum so that they could get hold of her property. That’s what has always complicated it. That’s why she lives here alone. It might be, too, why we should watch the doctor himself.” She stretched out her hands appealingly to me. “Oh, Mr. Castle, you must have heard of such cases—I’m told they’re common. Can’t we drive her away for ever?”

“The doctor probably knows a good deal more about that than I,” I replied. “I think that’s probably why he’s so much interested. But, if you don’t trust him, the very fact that he does know so much about the subject makes him the more dangerous. I must have a talk with him. Do you know when he’ll come again?”

“He may be here at any time. There’s no telling. I don’t think Miss Joy knows, but I have an idea that he may have arranged it with Edna. You can find that out for yourself to-morrow, can’t you?”

“I think that I may be able to find out a good deal, if you’ll only close your eyes.”

Again that quick, indrawn breath, as if she were struck with a sudden pain, and she rose and stood before me.

“Oh, Mr. Castle, I can’t help trusting you! I must trust you!”

“Will it help you,” I said, looking her straight in the eyes, “if I tell you that I like Joy immensely—that, in fact, I’m very, very fond of her?”

She took both of my hands in hers, kneeling before me. “Oh, Mr. Castle!” she cried, “if you only do! If I could believe that, it would be such a comfort to me! I’ve wanted to believe it ever since you first came down. She’s so alone—she has no one in the world but me! She needs you so much! Oh, you could do so much for her!”

“There’s nothing, Leah, that I wouldn’t do for her, believe me. Nothing! Do you know what that means? It means that I may have to do what she herself would never consent to have me do.”

That was as far as I dared to go with the girl; indeed, it was almost as far as I had gone with myself. I could see hints of what it might possibly come to; but just how it would work out, I had no idea. It would be time enough for that, when it was time. But, on the whole, Leah was pacified and strengthened by my confession. As she was nearly in a state of collapse, by this time, I sent her to bed, and remained to smoke in the library.

The question was, now, whether Edna wouldn’t wonder why I had come down. I had, of course, the excuse of my motor-car to account for that, but I thought it likely that she wouldn’t be exigent in the matter of excuses, and would be quite ready, for her own reasons, to welcome me to Midmeadows. At any rate, I decided that I would stay, whether or no. Joy most certainly wanted me here, now that the White Cat was out of the bag, and I was quite prepared to strain a point, if necessary, to induce Edna to be hospitable.

It was now ten o’clock, and, excited as I was, I found myself in no mood for sleep. So, hearing King grinding coffee in the kitchen, I walked out there to make his acquaintance. As I came in, he looked up and grinned serenely.

“Hello! You come back?” he said affably.

“Yes, I’m back, King,” I replied, and stood with my hands in my pockets, watching.

“I thought you come!” he said, nodding his head wisely.

“Oh, you did, did you?” I inquired. “Why?”

He went on automatically with his coffee-mill, still grinning inanely. “You likee Miss Fielding?” he asked audaciously.

“Heap much!” I said, laughing. He laughed with me.

“Aren’t you lonesome here, King?” I asked next. “Not many Chinamen around here, are there?”

“Oh, Chinamen no good! All time make tlouble.” He poured the ground coffee into a canister and took down a pot.

“There’s a Chinese laundry over at the Harbor. Don’t you go over there sometimes to smoke a pipe?”

“Aw! No good smoke pipe. More better stay here.”

Now this was contrary to the habits of Chinamen as I had known them, and I scented something interesting.

“You no play fan-tan?” I asked.

“Aw! Fan-tan no good,” King replied contemptuously. “All time lose heap money. No good!”

He shook his head again as he shook down his fire, poked it, and went to the sink to wash his hands and wipe them on the roller towel. I watched his deft, precise movements; he was like a machine in the accurate way in which he handled everything.

“What tong do you belong to, King?” I asked presently.

He gave me a cunning look.

“What-a-matter you?” he demanded. “What for you want to know?”

“Hip Sing?” I persisted. “See Yup? Sam Yup? What tong?”

“You sabbee China tong?” he asked.

“Oh, sure! You tell me, King. I keep him quiet. I no tell.”

“Say!” he exclaimed, approaching me, grinning, “sometime you help me get away?”

“You in trouble, eh? What’s the matter! Hatchet-men after you?”

He still grinned in the absurd way Celestials have, when the subject is most serious. “No catchee me!” he declared.

“Oh, I see. They’re trying to find you, eh? What’s the matter? You steal China girl? You take tong money? You kill Sam Yup man, maybe?”

He kept his grin and his secret. “Tha’s all light, no catchee me!” was all I could get out of him. But I thought I had a suspicion as to why he was contented to stay alone, so far from any of his race, and never go to town or even smoke opium or play fan-tan at the Harbor.

III

By the next morning my mind had cleared somewhat, and I rose full of eagerness and interest for what was to come. I looked forward to it, now, as to a play where I myself was to go upon the stage and act a part. I got down-stairs early, to be ready upon the scene.

The day was fine, and I stepped outside, first, to pay a visit to the dogs, who scrambled over me in an ecstasy of delight, crouched, leaped, ran off and returned, exuberant with life and affection. King was outside, watering a patch of flowers, and grinned a welcome. I took a turn down the lane, reveling in the sweet-scented morning air laden with the perfume of the hundreds of rose-bushes in front of the house, and then back, quite tuned up for any emergency.

Leah had not yet appeared, so I went into the music-room which opened from the hall, opposite the library. Here further evidence of Miss Fielding’s taste was evident, though, except perhaps for my own chamber, it was the most formal room in the house, with as fine a collection of Chippendale, Sheraton and Heppelwhite furniture as I have ever seen, and a ceiling plainly a replica of Adam’s. The room, in fact, was almost like one of those chambers in show palaces whose entrances are roped off with crimson cords. I felt that I oughtn’t to be surprised if, on approaching the harpsichord in the corner, I found upon it a printed card with the legend: “Défense de toucher.”

While I was looking about, I heard Leah’s footsteps hurrying down the stairs. I turned and waited for her, and my glance must have spoken as plainly as any words, for as soon as she saw me she said:

“It’s ‘the other one,’ Mr. Castle. She’s up, now. She’s telephoning to the doctor.”

“How is she?” I asked.

“She’s fresh and well enough, but she’s in a bad temper. I had an unpleasant scene with her. She wanted to know why I was here, and I told her what you said—that you had met me and asked me to come back with you. Then she quieted down a little, and asked me when you came and how long you were going to stay. She seemed to be glad that you were here, and it pacified her, but I’m awfully afraid that she’ll send me away again!”

“Don’t lose courage,” I said. “If she’s glad to see me, that’s a good sign, and it will make it easier for me. But we mustn’t seem to be plotting here together. It won’t do to arouse her suspicions, whatever we do. You leave it to me, and cheer up!”

With that, I walked into the library and waited. It was not long before I heard Miss Fielding’s door open and heard her whistling as she came rollicking down the stairs.

These noises, so thoroughly dissociated from my idea of Joy herself, created unconsciously a mental impression; an expectation that, without thinking of the absurdity of it, quite unprepared me for the sight of her when she appeared. I don’t quite know what I did expect—something a bit unfamiliar, unnatural, I suppose—but what I saw was, of course, only the Miss Fielding I had always seen, pretty, slender, exquisite, the same brown-eyed, dark-haired creature as ever, at first glance the same woman whom I had left the night before, only now refreshed and full of life. It gave me a distinct shock. At second glance, it is true, there were almost undefinable, yet perfectly distinguishing marks of the new personality—of Edna; and as I noted them—the carelessness of her hair, her dilated pupils, the rolled-up sleeves of her shirt-waist, the odor of Santal, and above all a refreshing youthfulness—I adjusted myself quickly to the situation.

She came forward with a swinging stride and her hand held out in jovial welcome, smiling. Her grip was like a man’s, as she said, “Isn’t it dear of you to come down and see me, Chet! I was afraid that you’d got enough of me before and wouldn’t ever want to come back again. I’ve missed you awfully. Sure, I have!”

She kept the hand I gave her, and swung it playfully. I said something about the automobile.

“I hope you can stay a while, now you’ve come,” she went on. “There are all sorts of things we can do, now you’re well, you know. Is your rib all right, now? Can I hug you, if I want to?” She laughed frankly at me.

“I want to talk to you about Leah,” I said. “I hope you’ll forgive my taking the liberty of bringing her back, but I knew that you would have changed your mind, and would miss her terribly. I thought that, if I brought her back and asked you to keep her, it would save you the embarrassment of sending for her, you know. Of course, you must have her here. You could never find any one who would fit in as well, who knows your ways; and, even if you could, Leah’s too fine a girl to let go that way.”

Her face clouded and she answered pettishly. “That girl’s no good, Chet. She’s regularly spying on me. She watches me all the time, and I won’t have it. She interferes with my things, too, and she thinks she’s too good to be a servant. If she’d only keep her place I wouldn’t mind so much, but I won’t have a nigger putting on airs with me. I’ve got to get rid of her!”

“But you can’t get along without some one,” I protested.

“Oh, yes, I can!”

“Why, even Uncle Jerdon’s not here, now.”

“Well, there’s King.”

“King isn’t exactly what you’d call a chaperon, is he?”

She laughed and began to galumph up the room and back. “Oh, I don’t need one, do I?”

“It seems to me you do if I’m to stay here!”

“’Fraid-cat, ’fraid-cat!” she taunted, starting off again, sidewise.

I had to laugh, and by a quick inversion she became serious, coming back to me, her chin up, her hands behind her, jiggling up and down on tip-toes.

“Do you really want me to keep Leah?” she asked.

“I really do,” I answered gravely.

“Why?”

“Because I’m fond of you, and I think you ought to have her help.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Are you really fond of me, Chet?”

“Of course I am—when you behave.”

“I might try her again,” she said thoughtfully.

“She must stay here as long as I do, at least; or else I can’t remain.”

She inserted her little finger into a buttonhole of my coat and said, without looking up, “Will you stay as long as I keep her, then?” She looked up, now, to smile at her strategy.

“I won’t promise that,” I replied, “but I shall certainly go if you get rid of her.”

“Then I’ll keep her. But it will be for you to see that she behaves, Mr. Chet.”

With that, she was away again, debonairly frolicsome.

I felt as if I had won the first battle, and could afford to hope that I might manage her. I was, however, skating on pretty thin ice, and it would take considerable skill to keep out of danger if I pursued these tactics much further. I had to encourage her enough to propitiate her and keep her friendly, without letting the affair get away from my control.

She danced into the library again to suggest that we go for a walk, and I followed her outdoors. As we passed the yard in the rear I saw the dogs lying in the sun. We had not got within twenty feet of them when they all rose, laid back their ears and began to growl. Old Nokomis, who had greeted me so affectionately, only a half-hour ago, stood with her brush down, grumbling, her head tilted, her eyes on Miss Fielding.

She turned to King, who was filling a pail at the pump.

“Say, King, you tie up the dogs in the stable, hear? I won’t have them about, barking and growling at me.” She made an impatient threatening gesture at Nokomis, who retreated, still watching sharply, till, with an angry yelp, she turned, and ran into the stable. The other collies followed her. It was uncanny.

“I’m going to sell those dogs pretty soon,” she remarked carelessly, kicking at a thistle. “I don’t see why in the world you wanted that puppy.”

“Because you offered him to me,” I answered, to see what she would say.

“Take them all, then, if you like,” she said. “I confess I’m afraid of them sometimes.”

We went along a lane behind the stable and beside a potato patch, and then, rising rapidly, through a gateway to a scrubby hillside, covered with huckleberry bushes and sweet fern. Miss Fielding, for so I must still call her, or you will perhaps forget that she was to all intents and purposes physically the same in this secondary personality, stuck her hands in the pockets of her red golf-jacket and swung up the path between the boulders, with a frank joyousness and comradeship that seemed as natural in its abandon as the windy air and the sunshine; and yet, mingled with it, was a sort of innocent trickery—the petty ruses of a primitive woman cropping out through a veneer of civilization.

I doubt if I can recall in precisely their order the little things which occurred after that to make me notice as evidences of her pursuit of me, but, as significant of her degree of craft, they amused me mightily. If I mention them, however, it is only fair to me to bear in mind that I regarded her quite as an abnormal phase of womanhood. She was not merely another person in Miss Fielding’s guise, she was only the part of a person—a collection of functions sufficiently synthesized to have an independent consciousness and volition, but by no means a perfect whole. This is, I believe, the modern interpretation of multiple personality. Certain definite psychological tracts are split off and run themselves, so to speak. One might perhaps say that it is as if France, Germany, Austria and Italy should float off the map, and achieve a lesser Europe of their own. The line of cleavage in Miss Fielding’s case was chiefly along intellectual and moral lines; Edna was a lesser and, mentally, a younger Joy—less cultured, less conscientious. It was quite in this way that I studied her.

She stopped in the lane before we got to the gate, and, unfastening the little gold chain with a sapphire pendant which she had about her neck, held it out to me.

“Here, would you mind taking this, Chet? Keep it safe for me, please! I’m afraid I may lose it.”

I reached for it, but before I could take it she had herself tucked it into my vest pocket and patted the place humorously.

She stopped again, afterward, to ask me to tie her shoe-lace. It was patently one of the many attempts she was always making to establish a closer physical contact, an effort to keep the relation personal. I remember, also, that not long afterward, having climbed up a sandy bank with my help, and with compliments upon my strength, she stopped at the top to take off that same shoe and empty it of sand, disclosing quite unaffectedly a delicate little foot in a grass-green silk stocking. I helped her also over several stone walls, as she appeared to expect it, smiling to think how often she must have scaled them unassisted. We passed cows of which she professed to be much afraid and clung tightly to me for protection. It all sounds crude enough, but it was prettily done, and I was more amused than critical.

We reached the top of the hill and threw ourselves down on the grass to rest. To the east, the land fell away, mottled with boulders and bushes, with a bunch of trees here and there, and away in the distance was the sea. On the other sides the middle distance was blocked with woods. It was warm and sweet with a fresh earthy smell, and still as a church.

She lay prone and, plucking a blade of grass, fell to playing with an ant-hill under her nose. I watched her, lazy and peaceful, basking in the June sunshine.

“Have you seen Doctor Copin lately?” I asked.

“No. He may come down to-day, though. I hope he will.”

“Oh, you like him, then?” I said, giving my voice the inflections of mock jealousy.

“Not as well as I do you,” she said, rolling a little nearer me to tickle my ear with her straw.

“What makes you think he’ll come?”

“I telephoned to him this morning, and he said he might. He’s just got back to town and wants to see me. He runs down when he likes.”

“On business, I suppose?”

“Yes, about my memory. He makes diagram things and tries experiments on me.”

I was interested. “Experiments? What kind?”

“Oh, he asks me if I remember things. You see, he tries to tell with his diagram things just when I shall forget and when I’ll remember, and he comes down to fix them up. I don’t understand it much, but he says that he’s going to cure me.”

“Oh, he’s going to make you remember everything, I suppose.”

“I hope so.”

“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” I asked.

“Why, I sent Leah away, didn’t I?”

“No, that was three days ago.”

“Was it?” she returned, heading off an infuriated ant with her straw. She seemed to take little interest in the subject.

“What did you want me to take back Leah for, anyway?” she asked.

“I think she’s honest and devoted. She’s thoroughly fine. Do you realize what temptations a girl might have who knew that you forgot things?”

“I suppose she would. I never thought of that.” As she spoke she crushed the ant with a twig.

“And Leah’s mother was your nurse, too, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, but Leah presumes on that and thinks that she can do anything she wants. Doctor Copin doesn’t like her, either. He’s got another girl he wants me to engage.”

I couldn’t help exclaiming, “Oh, I hope you won’t!”

“Well, perhaps I won’t, if you don’t want me to, Chet. I was going to ask your advice about it. It’ll make the doctor furious, but I don’t mind. Poor Doctor Copin! I’m sorry for him, though. He’s awfully hard up.”

“Why! Is he so poor?” I smelled a mouse.

“He’s all the time complaining to me, at any rate.”

“I should think you’d be afraid to keep much money in the house. It’s such a lonely place for burglars, you know.”

“Oh, I don’t keep much on hand. But I always have a little. I have a small income. It comes down every month. It’s rents or stocks or something. It’s safely invested and I don’t bother about it.”

It struck me that she took all this rather easily, but I soon found that it was the way she took everything. It had always been that way with her, and she saw nothing strange in it. Her amnesia accounted for everything. I saw how easily she might be led. Impressionable, and with a hasty, wilful temper, one who knew her temperament could soon learn to control her. I began to see how Leah’s influence, which had heretofore been potent, might, perhaps, be undermined by the doctor. Here was the next thing to be investigated. But I would have to wait till I had had a talk with him.

She plucked a dandelion and put it into my buttonhole, looking up at me coquettishly as she did so.

“Chet, d’you know, I like you!” she remarked.

“Oh, I’m not a bit offended at that,” said I.

“I wish I could make you like me a little.”

“You are looking for a sinecure, aren’t you!”

She returned to her ants and poked at them meditatively.

“I don’t know why I tell you such things,” she went on. “I’ve never done so before. But you understand—don’t you!”

Oh, yes. I understood. I had heard that sort of thing often enough before.

“I like you because you treat me just as you’d treat a man. You’re not always remembering that I’m a woman. The doctor—” She broke off. I understood this, too, but it amazed me to find that she, so far away from the world, could have so easily found the woman’s way.

“You’ve got a perfectly stunning profile,” was her next play.

I showed her how, by pressing in the tip of my nose, it could be made decidedly Hebraic in contour. She pulled my hand away with a pretty protest at the outrage to my looks.

Next, she complained that her hair was “horrid,” and that after it was shampooed she could never do anything with it; she calmly took it down and combed it, a fine silken cascade of brown. It was quite beautiful enough to warrant the exhibition, which she ended by plaiting it into two magnificent braids falling below her waist. Finally, she got up and gave me her coat to hold for her while she put it on, a process which she delayed unnecessarily, snuggling slowly into the sleeves and looking coyly up at me over her shoulder. Then she seized my hand, and, before I knew it, had started to run me down the hill. She stumbled and fell—on purpose, I’m confident—and I picked her up. How such contacts and familiarities affected me, considering my growing fondness for Miss Fielding, I leave you to imagine.

We walked down the path as gleefully as children playing truant, and, arrived at the stable, she proposed that we go in to examine my machine, which she was anxious to try. The dogs had been shut up in the harness-room, and as soon as we approached, they set up a discordant barking. Edna scowled and went to the door to look in.

“Stop that noise!” she commanded irritably. A new chorus assailed her.

She had opened the door only a crack, but, as she spoke, Nokomis wriggled through, forcing it open, and, crouching in front of her, ears laid back, growled angrily. Quick as a flash Edna took up a short whip that stood in the corner and lashed at the bitch. Nokomis was upon her in an instant, and, before I could prevent, had seized her ankle and nipped it severely. Edna screamed and struck again, this time with the butt of the whip, hitting Nokomis squarely on the forehead.

Yelping, Nokomis released her hold and with her tail between her legs dashed out of the stable door and disappeared.

Meanwhile, I had closed the door of the harness-room and had run to Edna. Her face was white, with sudden rage rather than pain. Nokomis had given her only a nip—the skin was not cut.

“I’ll have them all shot to-morrow, if I have to do it myself!” she cried.

I did my best to calm her, and in a few moments she had recovered her temper enough to laugh at the episode, though her spite against Nokomis remained. She forgot it in my explanation of the motor, which she examined with great intelligence.

Luncheon was ready when we reached the house and we went into the dining-room. Here it was dim and cool and we fell naturally into a more placid humor. Edna seemed less the impetuous, irresponsible child she had been that forenoon, and I got my first hint of what was characteristic of her in this condition—that, as the day wore on, she seemed to grow steadily older and more developed mentally.

Over her shoulder the tapestry paper showed a picture of the combat between James Fitz-James and Roderick Dhu; behind her the door opened and shut from time to time admitting King with his dainty dishes. He came and went like a ghost, all in white, while Leah, in a dark gown to-day, hovered like a shadow in the kitchen.

Edna had an amusing and not unpleasant sort of gaminerie at table. She was fond of selecting the daintiest, littlest piece of celery from the dish and tossing it over to my plate. She did not hesitate to use her fingers in cunning, unconventional ways, not as if she knew no better, but as if she knew herself to be pretty enough, and charming enough, to invest the solecism with a personal indulgent humor. So she dipped her bread in the gravy audaciously, so she crushed her strawberries with her fork to a red welter of pulp, and added cream with a flourish. She carried it off perfectly; it was quite a distracting sight.

At two o’clock we got out my machine and set out for the station to meet Doctor Copin, she guiding the car according to my instructions. She was an apt pupil, and though the first stretch of rough lane required considerable skill in handling the motor, we got out to the highroad without accident, and put on top speed. The excitement of it kindled her spirits and a dangerous light shone in her eyes. She was bareheaded and the wind brought a fine glow to her cheeks.

“Isn’t it great!” she exclaimed. “I’m going to get a car the first thing I do.”

Her touch was clever and firm on the wheel, and she passed from one speed to another and handled the spark like an expert, already. There was no time for much coquetry, now, but I got a glance now and then on the straight level runs. She swung up to the station with style, and my hand, though ready to help her, was not needed. I congratulated her upon her skill and she was pleased as a child.

“Oh, I’m going to show the doctor!” she cried. “You wait till he gets in and I’ll give him a run for his money!”

The train appeared in a few minutes, and Doctor Copin, with his professional bag, got out from the parlor-car. He seemed to be much surprised at seeing me. I thought that I detected something like annoyance, too, in his expression. I wondered if she had not informed him of my being at Midmeadows when she had telephoned in the morning. He greeted me cordially enough, however, inquired as to my condition, made a dull joke about my ribs, and got into the back seat of the car. I kept my place in front beside Edna, coaching her as we went along.

I talked commonplaces to the doctor, who replied laconically, and Edna, being absorbed with her work, kept quiet, her lips closed tightly, her eyes on the road ahead, waiting for her chance to make speed. After we had got a little outside the village there was a sharp up-grade, and I saw her hand fly to the speed lever.

“Be careful how you throw in that clutch,” I warned her. “Give it to her easy, now!”

Her thought was all for impressing the doctor with her ability as a chauffeuse, however, and she was too impatient. She released the clutch and threw her lever back to second speed. By the time she dropped her clutch back in again, however, the car had lost momentum, stopped and begun to roll down-hill, the engine still going furiously. The gears meshed, but something had to give under the strain, and with a snap the chain parted. The freed motor shook the car with its velocity. I grabbed the throttle from her, stopped the engine, set the brake, and the car came to a standstill.

“Oh!” she wailed, “I’ve broken something, haven’t I?”

“I’m afraid you have,” I answered, laughing. “But I’ll see what can be done.”

I crawled underneath the car, taking the attitude that has now become classic, and saw that it would be a case of fastening in a new link. I backed out, looked in my tool-box and found that there were no extra links there.

“I can’t mend the thing here,” I explained. “You and the doctor will have to get out and walk and leave me here. You’d better send some one back with a horse to tow me home.”

She almost cried with shame and regret, but there was nothing for it but to do as I had suggested. I noticed a faint smile on the doctor’s thin face. He was undoubtedly glad of the dilemma, as it would temporarily rid him of my company.

“It’s too bad I can’t sew it up for you,” he said dryly. “I’m afraid it will require a capital operation, Castle. You’d better have a consultation with Uncle Jerdon. But if you need any anesthetic to keep it out of pain while you’re waiting, I’ll lend you my bag.”

“Oh, my machine is used to it, you know,” I replied. “If you’ll only send back the coroner it’ll be all right.”

“Well, we’ll hope for a change soon,” he said. I verily believe the man meant it for a pun, for he closed one eye as he got it off. Edna giggled.

So they set out and left me. I took a seat, lighted a cigar, and waited as patiently as I could, not at all pleased at the thought of his having a free hour or two with her. At last Uncle Jerdon appeared on the scene, driving a span of horses.

“Hello,” he greeted me. “The same old, sweet song, eh? Well, we all have to come to it, sooner or later. You ought to lead a hoss behind when you go. I’d as soon trust to an airship.”

He harnessed his team to the car, and we proceeded slowly home. It was a humiliating experience, as it always is, but Uncle Jerdon was plainly hugely amused at my predicament.

“I guess the doctor wan’t sorry ye had to stop here alone,” he remarked. “He’s a-makin’ the most of his time, naow, I expect. Nothin’ like a little friendly rivalry for a bashful man.”

“How long have you been back?” I asked, not caring for his personalities.

“Oh, I jest happened to meet ’em in the north lane as I come. I guess they wan’t expectin’ to see nobody there, by the way it looked. Miss Fielding ain’t so crazy but what she knows what she’s abaout sometimes, I tell ye!” At which he went off into an ebullition of silent laughter. This was disquieting enough information, for I could guess what he had seen, though I couldn’t afford to encourage him. So I changed the subject.

“How long have you been down here with Miss Fielding!”

“Goin’ on two year,” he answered.

“I suppose the neighbors talk about her a good deal?”

“I reckon they do! But they don’t get nothin’ outen me. I sit an’ look wise an’ chew a straw an’ let ’em talk. Lord, how they do try to pump me!”

“Doesn’t she ever see any of them?”

“Oh, yes, sometimes, when she’s O.K., but she don’t encourage ’em callin’ much. They think she’s so high and mighty, though, that they don’t bother her to any great extent.”

He proceeded now of his own accord.

“She’s happy enough alone, I take it. Lord! I don’t mind her at all. I attend to my business and she to hern. It ain’t as if I was a woman an’ curious, ye know. But when she abuses dumb critters, then I do get mad. I jes’ see ol’ Nokomis in the hazels, as I come past. She had her tail atween her laigs, an’ I’m afraid that means trouble. I usually see to it that the dogs is got outen the way when she’s looney, but I expect Leah must have forgot to attend to ’em. Funny King didn’t, either. But it will happen on occasion. Some day they’s goin’ to be trouble. Ol’ Nokomis knows more’n most folks herself. I believe King’s crazy, too. He’s got a heathen idol in his cabin he’s all the time worshipin’. Burns punk-sticks an’ a little peanut-oil lamp in front of it, night an’ day. But I get my own quiet fun outen it all. I’m satisfied.”

We got the car safely home, and I spent the rest of the afternoon, with Uncle Jerdon’s assistance, in mending the chain and doing other necessary cleaning and repairs. Miss Fielding and Doctor Copin stayed shut in the library. When I had gone up to my room to clean myself, Leah, came in, bearing fresh towels.

“Oh, Mr. Castle, can’t you go in and join them?” she said. “I hate to have them alone for so long—you don’t know how I dread it!”

“What are you afraid of?” I asked.

“I don’t know! I don’t know! Only I don’t trust him.”

“Have you seen anything more?”

“Enough to make me worried.” Then she brought out painfully, “Mr. Castle, do you think we would have any right to—to listen!”

“You mean really to eavesdrop?”

“Yes.” There was a look of pain in her eyes. I saw by this confession how far she had gone with her fears.

“I hardly think so, yet,” I answered. “It would be pretty hard for us to do, wouldn’t it?”

“But you remember that Miss Joy said, last night, that she would leave it all to your judgment. Oughtn’t we, to protect her, perhaps, find out just what it is he’s doing?”

I thought it over at length. But it was a resource that I couldn’t help wanting to leave till the last. After all, it wasn’t as bad as that, yet. Except in Edna’s familiarities with me, and Leah’s vague fears, I had no reason for fearing anything wrong. All depended upon the doctor’s motives in being alone with her. He might, indeed, be making love to her, but then, perhaps he was truly in love; he might even want to marry her. It was a maddening thought for me, but, after all, it was, strictly, none of my business. He had a right to try to woo her, and it couldn’t, at any rate, go far without Joy herself becoming aware of it. She would be the first to acknowledge that Edna had a right to permit it. If, however, he were dishonest in his motive, if he were, for instance, after her money, that was quite another matter, and it was obviously my place to interfere. We should have, at least, to see that Edna could not get hold of any property.

Lastly, and this seemed, at that time, most probable, he might only be carrying on a series of experiments with an interesting patient for some technical end. True, Joy had herself refused to permit him to treat her, and this probably accounted for his devoting himself to Edna; but it was not, so far as I could see, dangerous. My position, therefore, was a delicate one, and I made up my mind to have another talk with Joy before showing my hand in interference.

I went over all this with Leah and she listened attentively. She iterated that she didn’t trust Doctor Copin, and that she feared there was danger at hand. I could see that the hint that he might want to marry Edna frightened her most of all.

“How can I tell Miss Joy?” she said. “How can I hint that Edna is too free with him—and all the rest that I suspect? Why, Mr. Castle, if she knew that, it would kill her! But oughtn’t I tell her? Is it fair for her not to know? It’s the most awful situation! I can’t bear to think of it! We must save her from herself, though, as well as from the knowledge of herself—do you see?”

She was sensitively alive to the intricate phases of honor that were entangled in the situation, and, showing such fineness and delicacy, I could quite ignore the fact that she was a negress. But that was merely the negative aspect of my admiration for her. From this time on, the more I was thrown with her in the intimate way required by our coöperation, the more I began actually to find in her a positive beauty, a beauty that was truly of her race and type—a beauty that foreshadowed what, were environment to permit its development, her race might in time attain, when, even though the skin were still dark, the features, insensibly modified by mental processes, would lose something of the extravagance of modeling now so repellent to whites.

Such vision came in moments like this, when her spirit was aroused and free. Usually, and always when suffering patiently the contempt or anger of Edna, I saw her only as the personification of loyalty, the loyalty of the hound who licks the hand that smites him. It was then as if her woman’s soul were crushed back farther into the figure of the servant. But always those two qualities were finely blended in her—she was slave and friend, not alternately but at once. One dwelt with the other in perfect peace. No hunchback ever carried his deformity with a nobler grace than she the trial of her color.

Miss Fielding and the doctor remained closeted together till dinner-time, when we three met at table. She was slightly flushed and her eyes were keen and bright. It was as if she somehow saw more—as if she had passed from that curious, mentally apathetic state which I have called childlike, and were inspecting a new world. But this analysis, no doubt, comes from what I learned later rather than from my observation at that time. Perhaps all that impressed me then was that she had, in some way, changed. I could find no way in which to account for the precise degree of difference that I noticed. She was alternately gay and abstracted, at which latter times she fell unconsciously into poses so like those of her normal self—Joy’s self—that it gave me, often, a start of surprise.

But, as if to cover all this, the doctor was more than usually jocose in a mechanical way so devoid of real humor that it irritated me. Try as I might, I could not get him to talk seriously. At every remark or question of mine, he threw me off with some nonsensical comment. It was the more maddening because of Edna’s inevitable laughter, and it was evident that she thought him a most amusing companion, though to me he seemed wholly without atmosphere or radiation; everything appeared calculated, deliberate. I saw that there could be nothing between us, unless, indeed, it should come to open conflict. He was the sort of man who could, I was well aware, arouse all my antagonism. It was easy enough to see that I was already jealous.

We talked on thus through the meal and then adjourned to the library for our coffee. As we entered I cast a quick look about to see if I could catch any revealing sign. I saw nothing except that the morris chair was drawn up to another, so that the two faced each other, almost near enough to touch. There were a few sheets of ruled yellow paper on the table. These the doctor took up as he went in, and placed in his pocket.

The talk languishing after a while, we spent the evening at cards, and what with the doctor’s sallies and Edna’s obvious replies, I think I was never more bored in my life. The only amusing thing about it was the way she played us off, one against the other, twitting the doctor with his remissness when he was not so complimentary as I was to her, and accusing me of a lack of humor when I did not join in their badinage. She distributed her favors impartially, upon the whole, though I caught several indications of some secret understanding between them, which was not surprising, considering the length of their acquaintance. He seemed to enjoy the evening as little as I, and to be a trifle embarrassed, even somewhat anxious. This was evident in the way he watched her covertly, and in the way he headed off all my questions, as if always on the defense. From a look she gave him, once or twice, I got the idea, also, that his foot was busy, under the table, and that he was using that method of signaling when the conversation got dangerously near whatever it was that he wished to avoid. This interested me considerably for the reason that her other foot was touching mine in a way that assured me of her conscious intention. The situation was as unpleasant as it was extraordinary. I lost myself, at times, in the inconsistency of it—the strangeness of her actions so unattuned to the exquisite body which was wont to house such delicacies of soul. She had indubitably changed from those first whimsical madcap moods of the morning. Somehow her personality had deepened; it had grown in strength and color; it was more assertive. She was no longer carelessly, thoughtlessly frank and forward, she had some definite motive.

Her coquetry and raillery lasted, thus, till ten o’clock, when she excused herself and went up to her room. The doctor and I remained in the library. I determined to cross swords with him.

“I’d like to know what you make of Miss Fielding’s case,” I began. “Anything, that is, that you can tell me with propriety. I confess I’m much interested in it.”

He got up, long and thin, put his hands behind him under his coat-tails, and stood backing the fireplace.

“Oh, I know what you’re interested in!” he said with his grin.

“Do you think there’s any chance of her recovering?” I said, ignoring his sarcasm.

“What’s she lost?” he asked.

“Why, herself, hasn’t she? To-day, at least.”

“Oh, she’ll find that to-morrow, I expect!” He balanced himself on his toes and smoked complacently.

I might as well stop there, I knew, but at the risk of being impertinent I was bound to see what I could get out of him.

“Have you found any law governing these alternations?”

“Why, yes; I have good reason to believe they come in turn—first one and then the other.”

I got up. I fancy he came as near to receiving a blow on the point of the chin that moment, as he ever did in his life. But I held myself in check.

“Of course, if you think that it’s none of my business, I’ll ask you no more questions,” I said angrily.

“Oh, no! Oh, no!” He shook his head with a deprecatory wave. “Only sometimes it’s easier to ask questions than to answer them. This is a common enough case, as you know, if you know anything about psychology. A mild form of mania; that’s all.”

“Do you mean to say that you consider it merely insanity?” I demanded.

“Oh, we’re all insane, more or less,” he pursued in his maddening, non-committal way. “Insanity is a relative term, you know. ‘All the world is queer but thee and me, and even thee’s a little queer,’ as the old Quaker said.”

I did my best to keep my temper. “It’s very unfortunate, at all events.”

“Oh, I don’t know. We can’t have too many of such fine women as Miss Fielding, can we? I’m sure I’d like to know a half-dozen of them!”

“You must confess it’s hard on her.”

“Oh, it gives her something interesting to think about. All alone here, you know.” He waved his long arm comprehensively over the scene.

“But aren’t you trying to do anything for her? She surely wants to get over it.” I was determined to push him into some definite statement. But it was no use.

“Oh, she’ll come out all right,” he replied, yawning behind his palm.

“She’s too fine a woman, as you say; she has too fine a character, too fine a mind—” I began in protest.

“My dear Mr. Castle, women are always changing their minds.” His shoulders shook as he laughed silently at his own joke.

“You’ll change yours, before I’ve finished with you,” I said to myself. But there was no use continuing the dialogue, and, bidding him good night, I went up to bed. Leah had given her own room up to him and she spent the night in Miss Fielding’s study. I heard him come stumbling up at midnight.

IV

It was with a feeling of great relief that, next morning, I heard the dogs barking jubilantly in the yard, answering, each in turn, to their names. Nokomis, I knew by her heavy note, had returned to the house. Joy was, then, herself.

This was better than I had dared to hope. My suspicions in regard to the doctor were now strengthened and I felt intuitively that, in some way, his presence at Midmeadows accounted for the increasing frequency of Edna’s visitations.

The last three days had shown regular alternations of personality, but I recalled the fact that on both Monday and Tuesday it had been Edna who had possessed Miss Fielding’s body. With this thought came also the recollection of Joy’s unusual actions in telephoning to the doctor.

The two facts seemed to indicate a significant relation—a relation, perhaps, of cause and effect. A third hint came—that such anomalous states of personality were sometimes developed during hypnosis—and the three separate thoughts snapped together, crystallizing into an idea. Had not Doctor Copin hypnotized Edna, and given her the post-hypnotic suggestion that she, in Joy’s person, should telephone to him in the morning? It seemed probable, for I could not doubt, now, that it was to the doctor’s interest to keep Miss Fielding as long and as often as possible in her secondary state, as Edna. As Edna she was impressible and easily managed to his ends. Edna invited him and welcomed him to Midmeadows, while Joy was cold and reserved. Everything that had happened dovetailed into my hypothesis—his annoyance at my presence, as the especial friend of Joy, and his own particular cultivation of Edna—the proof, in fact, seemed conclusive. What, then, was he trying to do?

I went down early and found him, lean and lank in his suit of muddy brown, wandering about outside, his long hands clasped behind his back. He greeted me civilly enough, but without warmth. I did not disturb him in his mood, and he meandered up and down, turning over a stone with his foot now and then, stooping to pluck a flower and sniff it thoughtfully, humming a tune to himself as he strolled.

Leah came to the doorway, gave me a happy look, nodded meaningly, and passed up stairs with Miss Fielding’s tray. I went back to the stable to see the collies. Nokomis bounded up to me and nuzzled my hand. Her forehead showed a scar where the whip handle had struck her, and I talked to her about it condolently, in canine gutturals. We seemed to understand each other perfectly.

At half-past eight Leah called me in to breakfast. I found Doctor Copin already at table.

“Going up to town to-day, Castle?” he asked, tucking his serviette into his collar.

“No, I hadn’t thought of it,” I said, sitting down.

“H’m!” he ejaculated thoughtfully. “I didn’t know but we might be taking the same train.”

“Oh, I think I’ll try my machine when I leave,” I said.

He grinned. “Haven’t you had enough ground-and-lofty tumbling yet?”

“Oh, I’m game. It’s such fools as I that keep you fellows busy; you ought to encourage us.”

He smiled dryly. “How long do you expect to be down here?”

The boot was on the other foot, now, and I was amused at his interrogation.

“I have some business to talk over with Miss Fielding,” I said. “It depends largely upon her how long I remain.”

“H’m!” He went on with his breakfast.

When Miss Fielding came into the room my first glance would have told me that it was Joy herself, even if I had not been given the hint already. As Edna, one would have called her pretty—as Joy she was beautiful. The lines of thought and care had returned to her face, but they did but emphasize the richness and meaning of her character, replacing abandon with subtlety. I watched the doctor’s eyes leap at her, and then fall, disappointed. He, too, knew in a glance. He seemed to be surprised as well as disappointed. Leah had evidently not told him, and he had not dared ask. He shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly as we both rose to meet her.

“Good morning, doctor!” she said, giving him her hand, smiling. “I’ve just done a funny thing! Leah told me that you were here, of course, when I waked up, but I forgot it so completely that I’ve been trying to ring you up on the telephone.”

I saw his pale blue eyes grow narrower as he laughed with her. He was pleased. “Well, did you get me?” he said.

“Are there two of you, too?” she returned, and the thing passed off in a general smile.

I took it that she had already heard from Leah of what had happened yesterday and I could not help admiring her calmness and self-restraint. The last thing, of course, that she could remember would be her anguish of two days when we were all so agitated over Leah’s absence and dramatic return, and that weary vigil in the library trying to keep awake. Joy was used to these lapses; she had been so long schooled by her changes that she was usually poised outwardly and calm, ready for any emergency, on her guard against betraying surprise; but I could not help picturing to myself the nervous excitement of her awakening when her memory first rushed back and she had to learn hurriedly the history of the day before. How much, I wondered, had Leah told her?

Her attitude toward Doctor Copin, while quite that of an old friend, was so different from what it had been the night before that he must have felt somewhat uncomfortable at my seeing it. Of any such difference Joy was herself quite unconscious, but the interest she plainly showed in me served to heighten it. She was still full of gratitude toward me for what I had done in bringing Leah back—the doctor, on the other hand, was only making one of his periodical calls; she was anticipating, also, his urging again his request to give her a definite course of treatment, a thing she had steadily opposed. He came, as I understood it, only to keep track of her disorder in a general way, and to advise her with regard to it; and it was, so far, more because she had not enough confidence in his proficiency in this special subject, rather than any innate distrust of his character, that had impelled her to refuse a course of hypnotic treatment.

His elaborate wit failed to receive much encouragement from Joy. The conversation was, therefore, a little stiff for some time, and resulted finally in a dialogue between Joy and me, the doctor maintaining a silence almost surly.

After breakfast, however, she took him into the library for a short colloquy before it was time for him to leave. I waited outdoors. They came out in a few minutes, she, I saw, a little disturbed, a frown on her face. Uncle Jerdon drove up in the carriage and the doctor got in, bade us a conventional farewell, and was carried off.

We sat there for a while without talk, Joy gazing straight ahead of her, absorbed in her own thoughts. Then she turned to me and said:

“Edna is coming oftener than she used to. I don’t like it!”

“Did you speak of it to the doctor?”

“Yes. He tried to reassure me. But I’m still uneasy. It was bad enough before, to lose two days a week, but if I’m to be robbed of half my time, it will be unbearable.”

“Did you ask him if he thought he could prevent it, in any way?”

“Yes, and he asked me again to let him hypnotize me.”

“Oh, I hope you refused!”

“Why?” she demanded, turning quickly to me. “I’ve refused only because I didn’t consider him able enough—I was afraid to experiment, to put myself into his power, alone as I am here, and without friends. I wasn’t quite sure enough of him. Have you any other reason why I shouldn’t? He said that he could inhibit Edna’s appearance, if I let him hypnotize me. He said she ought to be sent back to where she came from, and that he wanted to ‘wake me up,’ as he expressed it—make me normal again.”

“Then he lied!” I remarked decidedly.

“Oh, Chester, you don’t know how you frighten me! If I can’t depend upon Doctor Copin, a physician, where can I look for help, and for protection against her? You have done much for me, but you’re only a layman, after all; what I need is professional advice.”

“Yes, of course,” I said. “It is impertinent of me—it’s positive audacity, to think I can help you, but, don’t you see, the doctor, if he isn’t to be trusted, is the more dangerous because of his knowledge? He can do you positive harm.”

“Why do you distrust him?” she insisted. “I must have specific reason before I dare even to disregard his orders.”

“Very well, then,” I said. “But I may seem more than impertinent—even inquisitive.”

She made a fine, impatient gesture. “Oh, we’ve got beyond such considerations—tell me!”

I turned to the door and called Leah, who came out immediately.

“Leah,” I said, “do you know how much money Miss Fielding had in the house yesterday?”

“Forty dollars, exactly.”

“Will you please find out how much of that is left, now?”

She ran up-stairs, while we waited. She returned in a few minutes with Joy’s purse.

“There’s only fifteen dollars here,” she said, showing the money.

“And it wasn’t spent for anything you know of?”

“There’s no possible way of spending it,” she answered.

“Then there’s twenty-five dollars to account for. Doctor Copin undoubtedly has it. Are you in the habit of paying him cash, Joy?”

“Oh, no. Always by check, and, of course, I settle all his bills; that’s understood between us. Edna can’t draw any checks, anyway, for her handwriting is quite different from mine. What could she have given him the money for? Perhaps she didn’t—how can we tell? Perhaps she hid it somewhere.”

Leah interposed. “Oh, no, Miss Joy, the purse was in your room all the time, I’m sure.”

“It may have been justified—it’s barely possible,” I said. “But yesterday Edna told me that the doctor was always complaining of being hard up. What else would he harp on that for, if not to borrow from her? Frankly, it’s my opinion that he does. You know how impressionable and impulsive she is—any one with tact can easily manage her.”

Joy stared at me. “Oh, that implies, too, considerable intimacy, doesn’t it? Much more than I have with him, at least.”

“It certainly does,” I replied.

She caught the inflection I put into the remark. “Do you mean—?” She stopped suddenly.

“I mean that he is not above suspicion; that we should watch him.”

“I’ll never let him come down here again,” she cried. “I’ll dismiss him!”

“We must go slow,” I said. “We must be surer, first; and, besides, you forget that Edna likes him.”

A look of pain came to her face. “She likes him?” she repeated.

“He cajoles her. She flirts with him, perhaps. At any rate, I doubt if she’ll refuse him admittance.”

She rose and began to walk up and down the gravel walk. “What shall we do? What shall we do?” she exclaimed, extending her hands toward me. “Why, he is dangerous! Chester, I’m positively afraid, now. It’s too horrible. It’s getting worse every day!”

“Tell me,” I said, “why have you been telephoning to him every day or so, Joy? You never used to, Leah says.”

She looked blankly at me. “I don’t know, I’m sure. It’s funny, but I never thought much about any particular message. I suppose I was simply a little lonely and it occurred to me to ring him up, that’s all.”

That was enough for me, and I didn’t explain the reason for my question. She had no time to worry about it, at any rate, for just then Leah, who had been listening silently, put in:

“Miss Joy, do you know what became of that little gold chain of yours with the sapphire pendant? Edna wore it yesterday, but I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Maybe it’s up in my room somewhere,” Joy answered, still walking up and down the path. Then suddenly stopping she faced me.

“Oh! Do you suppose she could have given that to the doctor, too?” she exclaimed.

I laughed. “No, she gave that to me to keep for her,” I said, and I drew it forth from my vest pocket where it had remained since the little scene behind the stable.

Joy’s eyes had followed my hand and fixed on the chain as I held it out. Her lips opened with a swift intake of air as she gazed. The two vertical lines appeared in her forehead. She put out a hand tentatively, but did not touch the ornament. It was as if she were in a trance. Then her lips moved automatically.

“Keep it—safe—for me, please!” she whispered. Suddenly her hand went to her forehead. “Oh, what was it?” she cried.

“Try to recall the rest!” I commanded, watching her sharply.

She thought a moment, then shook her head decidedly. “No, it’s gone now,” she said.

“You can get nothing more?” was my suggestion.

“Nothing. It was like a dream, like something I had done and said before. What does it mean—do you know?”

“It’s precisely what you did say—what Edna said, that is—yesterday.”

For some time she was too bewildered to speak, and stood staring at me—through me. “You mean that Edna said what I’ve just said!” she asked.

“Yes.” I handed the chain to her.

She put it away with a sharp gesture. “Oh, no! If she gave it to you, keep it! I have no right—” She turned away.

“But it was only to keep till we got home,” I explained.

She looked at me keenly and threw back her shoulders proudly. “No, it wasn’t. She meant you to have it.”

“You remember it, then?”

She smiled sadly, pityingly. “No. But I’m a woman, and I know.”

Walking away to a rose-bush, she plucked a bud and returned slowly, as if to hide some emotion. It was quite time to comfort her.

“Joy,” I said, taking her hand and bringing her to the steps again, “I have been doing a good deal of thinking, and I have a theory that I’d like to prove. I’d rather not say anything about it till I’m sure of it, but when I am, I’ll tell you. Have I your permission to use my own judgment, even to the point, perhaps, of eavesdropping?”

“Oh, is that necessary, do you think?” She clasped her hands nervously at the thought. “I don’t know. It’s all so mixed up in my mind. Who can settle the ethics of a case like this?”

“It may come to a fight between you and Edna, I think.”

“Oh, that’s what it has come to!” she exclaimed. “That’s what is killing me. Who is Edna? Where did she come from? Where does she belong? I must be fair—I want to be just to her, however she treats me. If I could only see her or hear her—if we could only communicate in some way, there might be an agreement. But she’s like a ghost—a character in a book. Is she a different person, or only some phase of myself? Dare I come into open conflict with her? Why, I may be only destroying myself! I have to be she, don’t I? Shan’t I have to bear whatever I do to her? How do I know what danger may lie in any action I may take?”

“Yes,” I replied, “I’ve thought of all that. I’m convinced that, as the doctor says, it’s only a case of ‘waking you up.’ It’s as if you were a somnambulist—walking in your sleep—dreaming half the time, irresponsibly. To wake you up may be uncomfortable for her. It may be like a surgical operation that she has to suffer, but when it’s over you’ll regain your health and reason, and, by the same token, so will she, and you’ll forget all the pain. However, it hasn’t come to that yet. What I want, now, is the right to explore, investigate, examine, experiment, perhaps, and then, when I have decided for myself, we can decide what course to adopt. If you’re the White Cat, I’m going to be the Prince, and save you!”

She took my hand and pressed it affectionately.

“I trust you, Chester, and I’ll agree to anything you think best. I feel as if I were being drawn into a maelstrom. Oh, what wouldn’t I give to be just a normal, natural person, like every one else! Why am I tormented so? Yes, you must help me, Prince!”

“Well, then, now we’ll talk no more of it for a while. Let’s forget it, and go and see the collies.”

Her face cleared and she sprang up, tossed back her head with her characteristic gesture and went with me to the stable. The dogs were all out in the sun, and as soon as we appeared they surrounded us joyfully. Nokomis walked up to Joy in her stately way and offered a paw.

“Why, Nokomis!” Joy exclaimed, “how did you get this awful cut on your head! We must attend to it immediately! Chester, won’t you go in and get me some water and some salve? Leah will give them to you.”

When I came back she was sitting on the ground with the dog’s head on her lap. Nokomis’ deep brown, soft eyes looked up gratefully while the wound was washed and dressed. The tears actually came to my eyes at the sight. The scene of yesterday, when these two were arrayed against each other, seemed impossible. It should go without saying that I made no mention of it to Joy, for it was evident that she had no idea of Edna’s treatment of the collies.

“Now, Nokomis,” Joy said, getting up and shaking the dust off her skirt, “listen! I want you to go in the house and get my golf-jacket, and bring it to me.” She spoke very distinctly, accenting the important words. Nokomis trotted to the kitchen door, barked sharply, and was admitted.

“I’m educating her,” Joy explained to me. “I want to see how far I can get her to understand what I say. This is rather a test, for there are at least three related ideas, the house, the jacket and bringing it back. But she’s extraordinary at picking up words; she has really quite a vocabulary. Of course, you hear a good many stories of the intelligence of collies, but I’ve never heard of their being systematically trained except in a utilitarian way. I’m experimenting with more and more complex ideas. I hate the ordinary dog tricks; they’re undignified and unworthy. I’m tremendously interested in animal psychology. Queer, isn’t it, when I can’t even handle my own!”

Nokomis appeared, in a distressed frame of mind, and whined.

“Well, Noko, what’s the matter! Can’t you find it?”

Nokomis barked, ran a few steps towards the house, and returned.

“All right, we’ll go in and see what’s the matter.”

So we followed her into the house. The red golf-coat that Edna had worn yesterday was hanging upon a hat-stand in the hall. Nokomis went to it, shook it with her teeth, turned round and whined. It was as near talking as a dog could do.

“Oh, I see,” said Joy. “You got the house and the coat all right, but you thought I meant just to come back, did you? No, bring, Nokomis, bring, bring, bring!” As she spoke, she placed the jacket in Nokomis’ teeth and showed her what was meant. “Next time you’ll know, won’t you?” she said.

“Now we’ll try your number lesson,” Joy said as we went back to the stable. She and I sat down on a watering-trough, while Nokomis waited, her head tipped, her ears straight up, with the soft silky tips drooping like tassels. Her sloping eyes were quick and canny.

“One!” said Joy.

A single bark from Nokomis.

“Two!”

Correct, again.

“Three!”

Still correct.

“Four!”

Nokomis was perfect.

“Five!”

Four barks, then, after a pause, another.

“Six!”

This was too much for the collie. She barked, I think, eight times, having quite lost her head.

“Pretty good, isn’t it?” said Joy, as I congratulated Nokomis—on the neck, at the spot dogs love. “This is straight culture, you know, no trick. I don’t give her any sign, as they do stage dogs. I’m just trying to see how far she can go. I’ve begun, too, to teach her colors, but I haven’t succeeded very well.”

“It’s immensely interesting,” I said. “I wonder why collies are so much more intelligent than other dogs.”

“They aren’t. Caniches are fully as bright, but collies have been trained for generations with the sheep, and it has raised the level of perception. That’s why I try to keep up their education, for of course they’ll deteriorate if they’re only bred for exhibition purposes. But the training of the shepherds isn’t everything. My theory is that the reason why a collie is quicker is because his eyes are trained. Most dogs, you know, won’t use their eyes if they can use their noses or their ears. Hunting dogs will run past quarry that’s in plain sight, following a scent without looking. A collie has to watch his sheep sharply, and his eye is developed. Their ears have been trained, too, by the shepherds.”

“How long would Nokomis keep this up, obeying your orders?”

Nokomis, who had been resting inattentively, looked up immediately.

“As long as I asked her to—wouldn’t you, old girl?” Joy rubbed the dog’s neck with her toe. “A dog’s chief joy is to be in some way, in as many ways as possible, a part of his master. I never knew Nokomis to tire of doing anything that kept up and accented that relation. It is the mainspring of a good dog’s life—it accounts for a dog’s devotion. It’s trite enough to say, but there is no love on earth so sure as a dog’s love. It’s unending! it’s unchangeable!”

Did Nokomis know, as she watched her mistress there, of that strange soul that stole into the girl’s form at night? Did she answer for herself instinctively, with an animal’s secret prescience, the question that Joy had asked in anguish—“Who is Edna?” The thought came into my mind as I heard Joy’s words, pathetic in their unconsciousness of how the love of Nokomis waxed and waned with her own obsession. Surely Nokomis was loyal and true. Surely she had never betrayed her mistress’ confidence. Perhaps the collie alone knew the secret of the White Cat.

We took Nokomis with us, and walked over the hill as we had walked the day before. “We,” I say, for, had any spectator been on the hillside to watch us pass on both days he could have seen no difference in the couple. With me was the same gracile creature abounding with life and beauty, the same small, brown-haired, brown-eyed woman with the flower-like hands.

But I need not say how different she was in talk, in gesture, in her mental attitude toward me. Yet, though I have shown Joy as intense, even as melancholy, this was not her natural quality. She could be as gay and debonair as Edna, but it was vivacity of a different key. Her laugh was as light and ringing, but it was provoked by other occasions. Her sallies were as joyous, but they sparkled with wit and comprehension. She was as frank, but she was keen as well. So it was not so much the sunny-dewy as against the quiet-shadowy, as it was April rivaled by June.

After luncheon with Leah, we went up to Joy’s private sitting-room, or study, as she called it—and it was really that, as I saw by the books which lined its walls. She had indeed time enough to read them! It was a woman’s room, but it was expressive of virility as well as taste. Like most of the other rooms, except the sleeping chambers and the dining-room, it was paneled to the ceiling—Joy confessed that she disliked plaster even when covered with paper. The wood here was a beautifully grained poplar and the general air of lightness and coolness was helped by the high, irregular, ceiled roof whose beams and ties stretched across from wall to wall. The ship-like bay-window which I had noticed from the outside was a nest of cushions of all colors of the rainbow—I speak literally—varying from violet, through blue, green, yellow and orange to red and purple again. There was a great table here where I saw a large microscope and case of slides. An upright piano stood in a corner. I noticed also a typewriter, and a camera on a tripod. The place had an air of work and study quite different from Edna’s clutter and disorder. It showed me in a glance how it had been possible for her to live alone, so far away from civilization.

Here we spent the afternoon discussing her condition and prospects. She asked me much about Edna, for, though she had always been kept informed of Edna’s actions by Leah, and had attained by this time a pretty good comprehension of her alternate’s character, she was much interested in my opinions and conclusions, and I was able to cast new lights upon this second self of hers which gave her a new point of view. I could not yet bring myself to speak of Edna’s coquetries, for of this she had no suspicion. There had been few visitors to Midmeadows since she had lived there, only the doctor and her lawyer, I believe; for she had, of late years, become more and more retiring as Edna’s appearances had become more frequent.

Whatever indiscretions Edna had permitted herself with the doctor had been well concealed, as they were so much alone. I myself would never have suspected anything, had she not been free enough with me to set me on the watch. And all this sort of thing, too, had evidently been only of recent growth—it was coincident with Edna’s increasing “strength.” I don’t think that either Leah or I had, for an instant, any compunction on Edna’s account against informing Joy of what might be going on. We were loyal to Joy alone—it seemed unquestionable that she was the rightful sovereign self, and that the other was an interloper—our devotion did not hesitate at any violation of confidence incident to such a revelation. But we wanted to spare Joy’s feelings as long as possible. For, under whatever spell, it was still Miss Fielding whose actions we must criticize. Irresponsible as she was, she could hardly bear to think of herself as appearing in such a light, knowing what the picture must be in our eyes, and her own. Indeed, it takes a more than ordinary amount of philosophy to know that one has shown a lack of taste or delicacy even under the effects of an anesthetic or an intoxicant, without suffering from mortification and shame. Her embarrassment would be quite as poignant as her sensibility was exquisite.

Joy had kept a diagram of her changes, and she got it out from her desk to show me. The first appearance of No. 2 had occurred when she was about fourteen years old; the second a month or so later, and there had been this usual interval until she was about twenty-one. From that time on, the appearance of No. 2 had increased in frequency, until for the last few years it had settled into a fairly regular average of two days in every week. There had been in her early childhood, beginning when she was seven years old, some curious abnormal tendencies that had not been recorded; it seemed, therefore, that her development was progressing, roughly, in seven-year cycles.

If that were so, the present daily alternation of personalities seemed to predict a gradual overthrow of her normal self, the original No. 1. The more I discussed it with her, however, the surer I was that this sudden access of strength on the part of Edna was chiefly attributable to the doctor’s influence. I did not say so in so many words to Joy, for I wanted first to prepare my plan, but there was no doubt, in my mind, that whatever was his object in overthrowing Joy’s control, and making Edna paramount, my coming had somewhat interfered with his experiments, and he had consequently increased his energy in a determination to succeed as soon as possible in his attempt at the replacement. How terrible this slow eclipse of her soul must be to Joy, I knew well enough.

It is hardly to be wondered at, therefore, that, thrown into intimate contact with so beautiful and so rare a character, I should bend all my will and powers toward helping her in her misfortune. I had decided already to make any sacrifice, and devote all my time to the task. Nor is it to be wondered at, I think, that, so devoting myself to her cause and being so privileged to study her closely, I should, by this time, have fallen deeply in love with her. Her very desperation, her hopeless, futile struggle against something outside any ordinary human experience drew me to her with an ever-increasing fondness. Her reliance on my aid strengthened the bond day by day, hour by hour. How much the doctor’s interest in her had given me the additional fillip of jealousy, I would not care to say.

We came back to the incident of the gold chain more than once. What did that phenomenon mean? It was almost the first, and certainly the strongest and clearest symptom of a common share in Edna’s life that Joy had ever had. Was it, then, Joy’s dim vision of Edna’s experience, or was it more sinister and significant, an evidence of Edna’s ability to project herself into Joy’s waking life? Did Edna, perhaps, have a coexistent, subconscious life? That it meant something, that it marked some new phase in this last cycle of development, we were both sure.

So we talked and talked that afternoon and through dinner. In the evening, exhausted with speculation, we gave it all up. Joy played her violin for me for an hour or so, and we lost all thought of the problem in our common enjoyment of her music. Then we started a game of chess, which, hard fought, lasted till bed-time.

Before we retired, Joy went out to see the dogs, and on returning she brought in Nokomis.

“I think I’ll let her sleep in my room to-night, Leah, she’s got such a poor, sore head,” she remarked.

Leah looked at me as if to ask my help or advice.

“Aren’t you afraid that—Edna may object in the morning, if she should be there?” I asked.

Instantly her suspicions were aroused. “Object to Nokomis! Dear old Nokomis, how could she!”

Nokomis whined anxiously, stretched her forelegs and waited.

I did not know what to say. Joy knew, of course, that Edna was not particularly fond of the collies, but she had no idea of the extent of her dislike. There was, I feared, some danger if, after what had happened yesterday, Edna and Nokomis found themselves together in the same room. Still, I wished to spare Joy, as long as possible, knowledge that would, I was sure, make her extremely sad. As Leah had tacitly left it for me to decide, I said:

“Leah, can’t you call Nokomis out early in the morning, before Miss Fielding awakes—in case——”

“Yes, I think it will be all right,” she replied.

If Joy suspected anything definite in this quick exchange of glances she did not inquire. She turned to bid me good night, and went up-stairs, Nokomis with her.

V

I was aroused in the night by a growling in Miss Fielding’s room. Wide awake in an instant, I sat up in bed and listened intently, but I had not had time to get up before I heard a short, angry yelp, and then Nokomis’ footsteps pattering out of the room and going down-stairs in hasty jumps. I struck a match and looked at my watch. It was a quarter past two o’clock. I knew well enough, then, that Edna would take Miss Fielding’s place in the morning. It was much as if a ghost had entered the house and lurked in the darkness. For a long time I was too agitated to sleep.

The next day was cool and cloudy. I found a fire burning in the library when I went down-stairs and Leah was there, putting the room to rights. She looked up at me gratefully, as if it were a consolation to her to have some one to depend upon.

Leah had, by this time, begun to treat me quite as if I were her master. I had always tried to meet her upon terms which would prove that I had no prejudice on account of her color, but that very attitude of mine seemed to make her more willing to do me unlooked-for service. I am told that this is not, as a rule, true of negroes, and the Southerners, who by sentiment and tradition hold themselves as superior in virtue of their birth, keep the respect of colored folk and receive a willing acceptation of subservience that no Northerner, capable of no such race feeling, can achieve. That Leah’s gratitude for my consideration did express itself in such devotion proves, perhaps, only that she was intrinsically finer—that she was, as I have already expressed it, ahead of her time. There was much pathos in it, nevertheless, for I was quite ready to regard her as a social, as she was, undoubtedly, a moral equal.

“Did you hear Nokomis?” she asked immediately.

“I should say! Didn’t it awaken Miss Fielding?”

“Oh, no, she sleeps heavily at these times. But it awakened me—wasn’t it horrible! It was Miss Edna coming in! Think of it!”

“How is she this morning?”

“Fretful and irritable—to me, at least. She asked for you, and she has been telephoning to the doctor again. Oh, I wish you might prevent that. What does she do it for, Mr. Castle?”

“He is probably making her do it,” I replied. “You see, he has attained a sort of power over her, I suspect. Just how much, we must try to find out. Have you any idea what she said?”

“No; she sent me out of the room. But I think he’ll probably be down to-day. How I dread it! Why does he come here so often?”

“He’s coming down, Leah, because he realizes that we’ve begun to fight him. It will be open war, this time, I expect. We don’t like each other, and I strongly suspect that by to-night the cards will be shown down.”

“He’s trying to get rid of me!” she said hopelessly, going on with her dusting.

“Well, he’ll have to beat me there, first,” I said. “So long as Edna doesn’t have two days running I think I can keep you here safely. But we must be ready for the worst. Is there any place near here where you could stay, if necessary, for a day or so?”

She reminded me of the old cabin a little way down the road, and thought it might be fitted up well enough. She wouldn’t be afraid to stay there alone, and could probably manage her meals somehow, through King, who was always ready to help her.

“Have you a revolver?” I asked.

“Miss Joy has one, and I can easily get it.”

“It might be well to have it at hand,” I suggested. “I’d advise you to ask Uncle Jerdon to clean up the cabin for you. And be sure that the collies are fastened up, too, won’t you? Where’s Nokomis now?”

“Nokomis came down-stairs and spent the rest of the night in the kitchen. When King opened the door, she went out. She’ll not come back, I think, till Miss Joy’s herself again.”

“That will be to-morrow, I trust. But by that time we must have something definite to report to her. To-day, if possible, I am going to find out exactly what the doctor is up to. I shall hold back for no scruples; I’ll listen, I’ll lie and I’ll cheat to find out his game and how to outwit him!”

“I’ll do anything you say, too, Mr. Castle. I’m willing to take the same pledge.” This was, for her, the consummate sacrifice. She would, I am sure, have given her honor, if necessary, to save her mistress.

We were interrupted then, by Miss Fielding’s appearance—I dare not call her Edna, lest one forgets that in almost every outward aspect she was unchanged. Indeed, had her body, instead of her mind, been metamorphosed, I think it would have been easier to adjust one’s self to the strangeness of it. But Edna’s words and Edna’s actions constantly gave the lie to Joy’s voice and Joy’s face. One could not even treat her as insane. It was definitely another person in masquerade. My soul went out to her at the sight, to return chilled at the revelation of that strangeness. I was constantly being tricked by my memory. When I had become so interested in the conversation as not to notice her appearance it was easy enough to feel that I was talking to quite another than Joy, but upon my first sight of her, or when, after having looked away for a while my eyes returned suddenly to her, the surprise of Edna’s words coming from Joy’s lips gave me a shock. But with all this I had begun to accept Edna as a perversion, a distortion of Joy’s self, rather than as a separate individuality, and I was caring too much for Joy, now, not to witness the working of the spell without a constant, fiery protest in my heart.

After our first greetings Leah disappeared, and we went into the dining-room. Edna sat opposite me at the table as I breakfasted, her elbows on the cloth, her chin on the backs of her clasped hands, looking at me.

“Well,” she began, “I’ve forgotten again, Chet.”

I wondered what was coming. She seemed more absorbed, more introspective than usual, for what of this phase she had heretofore manifested had appeared usually later in the day. She watched me, too, with a curious intentness.

“But you’re not so bad as you have been,” I offered. “You know you only lost a day, this time.”

“No, I’m getting hold of myself, I believe. The doctor is helping me, I’m sure. I used to lose four or five days every week.”

“I congratulate you!” I said, falsely enough, I confess. But I must at any cost placate her.

“How was I yesterday, Chet?”

“What d’you mean?”

“How did I act? What did I do? Was I very different from what I am to-day, for instance? Tell me all about it!”

This staggered me. She had never betrayed so much curiosity before; she had always taken her lapses in her careless, thoughtless way, without much question. I saw Leah in the kitchen stop and listen, her lips parted, showing her white teeth.

“You were very lovely—as usual!” I said.

“I’m glad you found me so, Chet. You’ve never said that before, you know!”

“Well, I’ve thought so, often enough!”

“Did you like me any better than you usually do, then?” she insisted, keeping her eyes on mine.

“Oh, there are some times when I don’t quite approve of you, I confess.”

“When, Chet?”

“When you abuse the dogs—or Leah.” Leah disappeared.

“But they abuse me, too, horrid things!” she complained peevishly. “And I can’t for the life of me see why you’re so fond of Leah. She’s a great trial to me. I’m only keeping her on, now, on your account, and if you scold me, I’ll be sorry I did.”

“Oh, I’m not going to scold you. You’re too charming.”

“As charming as I was yesterday?”

“Almost.” I hated myself for saying it.

“What did we do yesterday? You haven’t told me yet.”

“Why, we talked, mostly. We sat up in your study all the afternoon, and in the evening we played chess.”

“Played chess? I must have played pretty badly!”

“Oh, no! In fact, you gave me a hard fight and beat me.”

“Chess is stupid, though. I’d rather talk. What did we talk about?”

“Oh, about you, mostly.”

“Did you make love to me?”

“No.”

“Why not, if I was so very much nicer than usual?”

Her deliberate misquotation, a common enough feminine trait, was characteristic of Edna’s newly acquired mental agility, but in addition I perceived that there was something behind even that. It was something new for her to proceed so categorically. It embarrassed me not a little, and yet I could not quite bring myself to lie to her outright, even to throw her off the track. It was almost impossible when I looked her straight in the face—Joy’s face—nor, of course, could I reveal anything of what had really happened.

“Oh,” I said, “you’re very nice now, but I’m not making love to you, you see.”

She further disconcerted me by saying, “Why not?”

There was nothing to do now but to carry the war into Africa.

“Because Doctor Copin seems to have that right—or privilege,” I gave her boldly, making a good deal of it by my tone.

“Doctor Copin is very nice indeed to me; indeed, he’s nicer than you are to me, Chet. He tells me things that you won’t, and he’s helping me to get my memory back. Why don’t you help me?”

“How can I help?” I asked.

“Tell me how I was different yesterday, if I was different. Was I different toward him?”

“Of course, I don’t know how you’ve been in the habit of treating him before I came.”

“Well, how did he treat me, then?”

“Oh, you’d better ask him about that! But,” I added, to try her, “I think he’s undoubtedly in love with you.”

“And you’re not? For shame, Chet!” She looked demurely at me, as if merely to impugn my taste. “He’s not nearly so nice as you, Chet,” she continued, “but he does treat me better. He’s done a great deal for me, and, if I ever do get well, it will be through his advice.”

“What does he do? How does he treat you—can you tell me?”

“Why, he hypnotizes me, you know. I told you that before.”

“And gives you suggestions, I suppose?”

“I don’t know what you mean. I just go to sleep, and after a while I wake up again. He hasn’t been able to do it till quite lately, and I don’t understand it very well, anyway. I don’t care, so long as I recover. He says I’m a remarkably interesting case.”

“So you are, Edna, most assuredly,” I replied. “You would be, even if you were all right.”

“Thank you for that. I’ll put down one good mark to your credit. But tell me—was I pretty yesterday, Chet?” She looked up at me earnestly under her brows.

“Very pretty—beautiful!”

“Was I clever, too?”

“Very!”

“More than usual? More pretty and more clever than I am to-day?”

Wishing to see what she was driving at, I risked a chance shot. “Yes,” I said.

“Oh, I hate you!” she cried, and she got up in a pet and threw herself out of the room, scowling.

I hurried after to propitiate her, but she was already outdoors. I overtook her in the lane and tried to take her hand and get her back, but she flung away from me and walked on without answering me. Giving up the chase, I returned to the library, very sorry to have aroused her temper. I knew I should have lied to her for Joy’s sake, for the sake of peace, for the sake of final victory.

I was pretty well convinced, by this time, that Edna’s eyes were opened, and she knew what was going on. She must undoubtedly have been informed by the doctor the day before. That would account for her behavior at dinner and in the evening. For the first time in her life, she had become aware that, during those lapses when she lost days at a time, some one else lived for her, animating the same body. If, as I was not too modest to imagine, she cared for me, the reason for her anger was evident. Edna was now probably definitely pitted against Joy in the conflict that was doubtless already on. I was determined, therefore, to bring the thing to a crisis, that we might, at least, know where we stood.

I had not been alone fifteen minutes when I saw Leah approaching the house. She was sobbing, her head bent down, her handkerchief to her eyes. I ran out to meet her, my heart in my mouth.

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’état.

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.