Morton House, Chapters XIX-XX [pp. 576-583]

1871.] 111 OB TON HO (7SF. 581
"To leave here, madame?"
"No-only to drive me into town. Don't waste time, Babette go!"
Babette went, and, when she returned, she found her mistress dress ing with trembling haste. "My bonnet, Babette," she said; and, as
Babette ran to seek the bonnet, which had not been used since her
,mistress entered Morton House, two months before, she could not help
wondering vaguely what this sudden movement meant. Whatever it
was, Mrs. Gordon certainly looked more like herself than she had done
in many a long day before. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks were
flushed, and, as she tied the strings of her bonnet, and drew the long
crape veil over her face, she felt with a strange, wild thrill, that stag nation was over, and the breath of life and combat had come to her
again. It made another woman of her. It gave her strength, and will,
and purpose, that no one would have dreamed of her possessing as she
lay languidly on her sofa, and watched one dull day after another go
by. Before she entered the carriage, she had all the windows put up,
and all the curtains put down. Then she bade the coachman drive to
Mr. Warwick's office in Tallahoma.
To Mr. Warwick's office in Tallahoma the lumbering old carriage
accordingly proceeded, rousing a good deal of interest in the quiet
streets of the little village, and startling a group of loungers who were
smoking their pipes in the bright sunshine outside Mr. Warwick's
door. The lawyer himself was not of the number. A man had called
on business, and he had taken him into the office about ten minutes
before the carriage appeared. His astonishment, therefore, was great
when two or three men came tumbling into his door without any warn ing, and all at once. "Warwick, here's the Morton carriage!" they
cried, excitedly. "What the deuce does it mean? Can Mrs.-Mrs.
Gordon be coming here to see you?"
"The Morton carriage!" repeated Mr. Warwick, startled, despite
himself. " I don't know, I have no idea what it means," he added.
"Are you sure it is coming here?"
Before the others could reply, the carriage drew up before the curb stone; and, the next moment, a half-grown negro boy appeared at the
office door, cap in hand.
"Mr. Warruck, mistiss says she would like fur to see you on pa'tic' lar business, sir, if you is at leisure. If you ain't, she say she will
come back when you is."
"Where is your mistress?" asked Mr. Warwick.
"In the carriage, sir."
"Tell her I will be there in a minute." Hle turned to his client,
who was listening with open eyes and mouth. "Mr. Sloan, I am sure
you will excuse me for deferring this business at present. Mrs. Gordon
has come in from the country, and I can't put her off. Just leave the
deed, and I will look over it, and you can call to-morrow."
Mr. Sloan was burning with curiosity, but the lawyer's quiet manner left him no room for appeal. He put down the deed, and made
his exit, followed by the smokers. "Warwick won't want us, either,"
they said, and filed off without waiting for a hint to that effect. No
sooner was the coast clear, than Mr. Warwick, who certainly would
not have hesitated to say that he did not want them, went out to the
carriage and opened the door.
"How are you, Mrs. Gordon? " he said, courteously, shaking hands
with the black-draped and closely-veiled figure inside. "I am quite
at leisure to attend to your commands. Will you come into my office,
and let me hear what I can do for you?"
"Are they all gone?" inquired Mrs. Gordon, who had taken an
observation through the carriage-window. "I wish to see you alone."
"They are all gone," he answered, extending his hand again, to
assist her from the carriage.
She descended rather feebly, as he observed, and, feeling the worse
for her unusual exertion, leaned heavily on his arm as they crossed
the pavement. When he caught a glimpse of her face, as she put her
veil partially aside on entering the office, it looked so pale, that he
was afraid she might be about to faint. He placed her in a chair
beside the fire, closed the door, and went hastily to a side-table, where
he poured out a glass of water, and brought it to her. "Will you let
me suggest that you are too much muffled up about the face?" he said.
"Permit me —" and he drew the masses of crape back, as she put the
water to her lips for a moment. Seeing her countenance thus more
distinctly, he was shocked by its appearance, and confirmed in his
dread of a fainting-fit. He pulled a small table that was close by, to
her elbow, and set the glass of water, which she now gave back to him,
upon it. Then he crossed the room to one of several walnut bookcases
that were ranged around the walls, opened a door that revealed to sight
three shelves full of respectable-looking volumes bound in calf, while
the fourth, and lowest, seemed to be doing duty as a sideboard. From
among two or three decanters he selected one, also a wineglass, and
returned to Mrs. Gordon's side.
"You look very pale, very ill, I may say," he remarked; "drink
this wine. It will do you more good than water."
"Thank you," she said, taking the wineglass which he had just
filled. "You are very kind. Yes, I believe I need it."
She drank part of the wine, put the glass on the table, and turned
to him. "Sit down," she said, with a slight motion of her hand
toward a seat opposite. "I shall not faint, and I have a great deal to
say to you."
It was some time before she spoke. Whether it was the memory
of the past-of the different manner in which they two had once
known each other-or whether it was merely the all-absorbing thought
of the threatening present, something overpowered her, and it was
some time before she could collect herself sufficiently to break the
silence. At last, with an effort, the first words came.
"Mr. Warwick, for a reason that I will tell you presently, I stand
in need of the advice of a lawyer. I have come to apply to you for
that advice. But, even more than I need a lawyer, I need a friend,
and the service that only a friend can render me. I venture, there fore-you may think without any claim-to ask if you remember the
old time sufficiently to care to render me this service? "
" Mrs. Gordon must surely have forgotten that she was once Pau line Morton, before she could ask me such a question," said the law yer, flushing slightly. " There are hereditary claims of friendship
between us," he went on, hastily, as ]ie saw an answering flush rise
to the pale face opposite him, "and there is, moreover, a particular
claim. When I was a strtggling boy, your father aided me in a
manner I can never forget What I am to-day, I owe to his generous
kindness. I will gladly do any thing in my power to serve his
daughter."
Mrs. Gordon understood, as not many people would have done,
the delicacy which made him speak thus-which made him allude
not to herself, but to her father. Understanding it, she appreciated
what she had only felt before, that this man could indeed be trusted,
and that he spoke truly when he said that he would do "any thing"
to serve her. Instinctively she held out her hand.
"Thank you," she said. "I felt sure that I might rely on you;
but I am glad to hear you say that you will help me. Ah, it is a terrible thing to be a woman," said she, looking at him with pathetic
eyes. "If I were like you, I should not need help."
"We all need it in some form or other," answered he. "None of
us are so strong as to stand quite alone."
"But it is only a woman who is entirely at the mercy of another;
who may be crushed in a hundred different ways-each more cruel,
more bitter than death. Mr. Warwick, tell me-what power, short
of murder, does not the law give a man over his wife?"
"It gives him a great deal," said Mr. Warwick, regarding her
keenly, and reading the excitement written on her face. "But what
interest has this subject to you? A widow-"
He was stopped by a gesture from her. Suddenly she extended
her hand, and taking up the wine, drank it off. Then she put down
the glass with a ringing sound, and, leaning forward, looked steadily
into his eyes.
"God forgive me!" she said-" God forgive me that I am forced
to say it, but He has not been kind enough to set me free. The first
thing I have to tell you is that I am no widow. My husband "-the
word nearly choked her-" is living."
Mr. Warwick started, but the surprise was not nearly so much of
a surprise asmight perhaps be imagined. He had suspected something like this before. It is hard to tell what slight circumstances
first sowed the seeds of suspicion in his mind, but he had long felt an
instinct that Mrs. Gordon's seclusion and impenetrable reticence were
not characteristic of a widow, but of a woman who had still something
to fear, something to hide from. Then, no one knew the business of
the Morton estate as he did, and he had not failed to make his own
comments on the fact that, in taking possession of this estate, Mrs.
Gordon had absolutely refused to go through any of the usual legal
forms. There was no one to contest her claim, she said, and so she
quietly assumed her right of control without any sanction from the
1871.]
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