They have informed her that Miss Carmina will be restored to my care, the moment she can be moved. And they have sent me her unconditional submission in writing, signed by herself."
She took it from the desk at her side, and read it to him, in these words:
"I humbly ask pardon of Mrs. Gallilee for the violent and unlawful acts of which I have been guilty. I acknowledge, and submit to, her authority as guardian of Miss Carmina Graywell. And I appeal to her mercy (which I own I have not deserved) to spare me the misery of separation from Miss Carmina, on any conditions which it may be her good will and pleasure to impose."
"Now," Mrs. Galilee concluded, "what do you say?"
Speaking sincerely for once, Mr. Le Frank made a startling reply.
"Submit on your side," he said. "Do what she asks of you. And when you are well enough to go to her lodgings, decline with thanks if she offers you anything to eat or drink."
Mrs. Gallilee raised herself on the sofa. "Are you insulting me, sir," she asked, "by making this serious emergency the subject of a joke?"
"I never was more in earnest, madam, in my life."
"You think--you really think--that she is capable of trying to poison me?"
"Most assuredly I do."
Mrs. Gallilee sank back on the pillow. Mr. Le Frank stated his reasons; checking them off, one by one, on his fingers.
"Who is she?" he began. "She is an Italian woman of the lower orders. The virtues of the people among whom she had been born and bred, are not generally considered to include respect for the sanctity of human life. What do we know already that she has done? She has alarmed the priest, who keeps her conscience, and knows her well; and she has attacked you with such murderous ferocity that it is a wonder you have escaped with your life. What sort of message have you sent to her, after this experience of her temper? You have told the tigress that you have the power to separate her from her cub, and that you mean to use it. On those plain facts, as they stare us in the face, which is the soundest conclusion? To believe that she really submits--or to believe that she is only gaining time, and is capable (if she sees no other alternative) of trying to poison you?"
"What would you advise me to do?" In those words Mrs. Gallilee--never before reduced to ask advice of anybody--owned that sound reasoning was not thrown away on her.
Mr. Le Frank answered the demand made on him without hesitation.
"The nurse has not signed that act of submission," he said, "without having her own private reasons for appearing to give way. Rely on it, she is prepared for you--and there is at least a chance that some proof of it may be found. Have all her movements privately watched--and search the room she lives in, as I searched Miss Carmina's room last night."
"Well?" said Mrs. Gallilee.
"Well?" Mr. Le Frank repeated.
She angrily gave way. "Say at once that you are the man to do it for me!" she answered. "And say next--if you can--how it is to be done."
Mr. Le Frank's manner softened to an air of gentle gallantry.
"Pray compose yourself!" he said. "I am so glad to be of service to you, and it is so easily done!"
"Easily?"
"Dear madam, quite easily. Isn't the house a lodging-house; and, at this time of year, have I anything to do?" He rose, and took his hat.
"Surely, you see me in my new character now? A single gentleman wants a bedroom. His habits are quiet, and he gives excellent references. The address, Mrs. Gallilee--may I trouble you for the address?"
CHAPTER L.
Towards seven o'clock on the evening of Thursday, Carmina recognised Teresa for the first time.
Her half-closed eyes opened, as if from a long sleep: they rested on the old nurse without any appearance of surprise. "I am so glad to see you, my dear," she said faintly. "Are you very tired after you journey?" None of the inquiries which might have been anticipated followed those first words. Not the slightest allusion to Mrs. Gallilee escaped her; she expressed no anxiety about Miss Minerva; no sign of uneasiness at finding herself in a. strange room, disturbed her quiet face. Contentedly reposing, she looked at Teresa from time to time and said, "You will stay with me, won't you?" Now and then, she confessed that her head felt dull and heavy, and asked Teresa to take her hand. "I feel as if I was sinking away from you," she said; "keep hold of my hand and I shan't be afraid to go to sleep." The words were hardly spoken, before she sank into slumber. Occasionally, Teresa felt her hand tremble and kissed it. She seemed to be conscious of the kiss, without waking--she smiled in her sleep.
But, when the first hours of the morning came, this state of passive repose was disturbed. A violent attack of sickness came on. It was repeated again and again. Teresa sent for Mr. Null. He did what he could to relieve the new symptom; and he despatched a messenger to his illustrious colleague.
Benjulia lost no time in answering personally the appeal that had been made to him.
Mr. Null said, "Serious derangement of the stomach, sir." Benjulia agreed with him. Mr. Null showed his prescription. Benjulia sanctioned the prescription. Mr. Null said, "Is there anything you wish to suggest, sir?" Benjulia had nothing to suggest.
He waited, nevertheless, until Carmina was able to speak to him. Teresa and Mr. Null wondered what he would say to her. He only said, "Do you remember when you last saw me?" After a little consideration, she answered, "Yes, Zo was with us; Zo brought in your big stick; and we talked--" She tried to rouse her memory. "What did we talk about?" she asked. A momentary agitation brought a flush to her face. "I can't remember it," she said; "I can't remember when you went away: does it matter?" Benjulia replied, "Not the least in the world. Go to sleep."
But he still remained in the room--watching her as she grew drowsy. "Great weakness," Mr. Null whispered. And Benjulia answered, "Yes; I'll call again."
On his way out, he took Teresa aside.
"No more questions," he said--"and don't help her memory if she asks you."
"Will she remember, when she gets better?" Teresa inquired.
"Impossible to say, yet. Wait and see."
He left her in a hurry; his experiments were waiting for him. On the way home, his mind dwelt on Carmina's case. Some hidden process was at work there: give it time--and it would show itself. "I hope that ass won't want me," he said, thinking of his medical colleague, "for at least a week to come."
The week passed--and the physiologist was not disturbed.
During that interval, Mr. Null succeeded in partially overcoming the attacks of sickness: they were less violent, and they were succeeded by longer intervals of repose. In other respects, there seemed (as Teresa persisted in thinking) to be some little promise of improvement. A certain mental advance was unquestionably noticeable in Carmina. It first showed itself in an interesting way: she began to speak of Ovid.
Her great anxiety was, that he should know nothing of her illness.