Avice Gray, VIII-X [pp. 234-242]

A VICE GRA Y.
Late as the hour was, Mrs. Harmer was hard at
work, and surrounded by the evidences that her labors
in the household department were likely to endure
till midnight. No matter what may lie in the past
or loom in the future, present duties exact atten tion, and the fact that she was to be an important
witness in the Whitechester Court to-morrow did
not exempt Mrs. Harmer from her culinary tasks
to-day. She looked up at the doctor, as he entered,
from over the bread-trough, and seemed struck by
the dejected expression of his face.
"Is anything fresh the matter, doctor? You look
downhearted. But, indeed, it's natural you should
be so, and I'm a fool to ask."
"There is nothing new the matter. I have been
taking a dream for reality, and have just awakened
to its unsubstantiality, that's all."
Mrs. Harmer did not quite understand what he
meant, but it was against her principles to admit as
much, so she diverted the conversation to the sub ject of her own grievances. "It's a very unlucky
thing, but Ephe has just told me the thrashers will
be here to-morrow, when I didn't expect them till
next week, and no preparations made, so it's thrown
me all on end. It can't be helped, however; we've
got a heavy crop, and if we lost the chance now
there's no saying when they'd come again, and I told
Ephe they'd have to put up with the best I could do.
If I leave all ready I guess Dorade can manage well
enough while I'm away."
Dorade, who was seated doing nothing in another
part of the room, made a hasty movement, which
attracted the doctor's attention.
"You needn't depend on me," she said, "for I
mean to go to Whitechester to-morrow to hear the
trial."
"Good land, Dorade! Surely, you can't be in
earnest? If you felt like me you'd pay a heavy price
to stay away."
"I can't help how you feel. Why shouldn't I
want to hear it as well as anybody else?"
"Strangers might be curious about it; but
you-"
"I'm all the more curious because I'm not a
stranger. Anyway, I mean to go."
"But what will they do here without either
of us?"
"Oh, I'll find some one to do the work. I wish
nothing troubled me more than that."
Dr. Wells had been observing the girl while
she spoke. There was a feverish color in her cheeks,
and a feverish light in her eyes, and a suppressed
excitement in her tone and manner, very different
from the melancholy depression so apparent in her
of late. "There is something new in her mind,"
the doctor thought as he looked at her. "She has
come to a decision. Can it be possible that she
means to go to Whitechester in order, if necessary,
to tell the truth of her own accord?"
The thought made his heart beat quick. Was
the truth to be made manifest and the mystery solved
without his agency, and through the promptings of
conscience alone? But, on a moment's reflection,
vol.. I-I6
he rejected the idea. It was not likely she had gone
so far to draw back now; it was not likely but that
she who had guarded her secret, whatever it was, so
religiously, would keep it to the end.
Dr. Wells had not even yet learned his lesson.
His experience of Avice in the morning, strange and
unexpected as it was, had no influence yet on his
evening's opinion of Dorade. He could not yet
imagine that there might be chords unsounded by
his or any other hand; he could not yet believe in
the existence of what he did not see.
While Dr. Wells observed Dorade, and while he
was endeavoring to decide on the best way of intro ducing the subject of the letters and of getting them
into his possession; while Mrs. Harmer busily pur sued her occupations, and Dorade had sunk again
into abstraction, there was silence in the room-si lence also without, for the night was very calm and
still, and, though the windows were raised to admit
the soft evening air, no sound entered with it.
The silence was suddenly broken by the roll of
wheels on the road and voices at the gate. In troub led times slight events will engender anxiety; and
the three within, unable, from the gathering dark ness, to see anything without, looked at each other
in suspense and with bated breath, waiting with
eagerness for which they could not have accounted
for what was to come.
"You need not wait," said a strange voice, that
of a man. "I shall stay here to-night. You can
come for me to-morrow." Then steps approached
the house, and the wheels rolled away.
Mrs. Harmer did not know whether she hoped or
feared, but her hand trembled as she opened the
door to the knock. Avice Gray could have told them
who stood on the threshold, but to the eyes that
looked on him he was a stranger. He made a salu tation which included all in the room, and then ad vanced to Dr. Wells.
"Dr. Wells, I believe?" he said, addressing him.
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, sir, and glad
I am in time to do so under favorable circumstances.
I heard in Whitechester you were here, and took
the liberty of following you. You do not know me,
but I can tell you who I am in a few words. My
name is Foster; I am the witness you have advertised for for the coming trial-the witness who can
prove the alibi for Avice Gray."
"Thank God!" broke fervently from the doctor's lips. Mrs. Harmer tried to say the same, but
for the woman the sudden relief and revulsion of
feeling was too much, and she burst into tears. The
assurance of safety, after such dark and hopeless
dread, had come almost too suddenly and unexpectedly to be believed; but, when Mr. Foster spoke
again, no doubt remained.
"I am only just returning from the journey on
which I was engaged when I met the poor girl on
that unfortunate day. It was by the merest chance
that the paper containing your notice fell into my
hands, and I had to make considerable effort to get
here in time to be of service to-morrow. I have
heard all about it in Whitechester, but I have not
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