These were not words; they were electric shocks.
The two arms that gripped Rose's arms were paralyzed, and dropped off them; and there was silence.
Then first the thought of all she had done with those three words began to rise and grow and surge over her.She stood, her eyes turned downwards, yet inwards, and dilating with horror.
Silence.
Now a mist began to spread over her eyes, and in it she saw indistinctly the figure of Raynal darting to her sister's side, and raising her head.
She dared not look round on the other side.She heard feet stagger on the floor.She heard a groan, too; but not a word.
Horrible silence.
With nerves strung to frenzy, and quivering ears, that magnified every sound, she waited for a reproach, a curse; either would have been some little relief.But no! a silence far more terrible.
Then a step wavered across the room.Her soul was in her ear.She could hear and feel the step totter, and it shook her as it went.
All sounds were trebled to her.Then it struck on the stone step of the staircase, not like a step, but a knell; another step, another and another; down to the very bottom.Each slow step made her head ring and her heart freeze.
At last she heard no more.Then a scream of anguish and recall rose to her lips.She fought it down, for Josephine and Raynal.Edouard was gone.She had but her sister now, the sister she loved better than herself; the sister to save whose life and honor she had this moment sacrificed her own, and all a woman lives for.
She turned, with a wild cry of love and pity, to that sister's side to help her; and when she kneeled down beside her, an iron arm was promptly thrust out between the beloved one and her.
"This is my care, madame," said Raynal, coldly.
There was no mistaking his manner.The stained one was not to touch his wife.
She looked at him in piteous amazement at his ingratitude."It is well," said she."It is just.I deserve this from you."She said no more, but drooped gently down beside the cradle, and hid her forehead in the clothes beside the child that had brought all this woe, and sobbed bitterly.
Then honest Raynal began to be sorry for her, in spite of himself.
But there was no time for this.Josephine stirred; and, at the same moment, a violent knocking came at the door of the apartment, and the new servant's voice, crying, "Ladies, for Heaven's sake, what is the matter? The baroness heard a fall--she is getting up--she will be here.What shall I tell her is the matter?"Raynal was going to answer, but Rose, who had started up at the knocking, put her hand in a moment right before his mouth, and ran to the door."There is nothing the matter; tell mamma I am coming down to her directly." She flew back to Raynal in an excitement little short of frenzy."Help me carry her into her own room,"cried she imperiously.Raynal obeyed by instinct; for the fiery girl spoke like a general, giving the word of command, with the enemy in front.He carried the true culprit in his arms, and laid her gently on her bed.
"Now put IT out of sight--take this, quick, man! quick!" cried Rose.
Raynal went to the cradle."Ah! my poor girl," said he, as he lifted it in his arms, "this is a sorry business; to have to hide your own child from your own mother!""Colonel Raynal," said Rose, "do not insult a poor, despairing girl.
C'est lache."
"I am silent, young woman," said Raynal, sternly."What is to be done?""Take it down the steps, and give it to Jacintha.Stay, here is a candle; I go to tell mamma you are come; and, Colonel Raynal, Inever injured YOU: if you tell my mother you will stab her to the heart, and me, and may the curse of cowards light on you!--may"--"Enough!" said Raynal, sternly."Do you take me for a babbling girl? I love your mother better than you do, or this brat of yours would not be here.I shall not bring her gray hairs down with sorrow to the grave.I shall speak of this villany to but one person; and to him I shall talk with this, and not with the idle tongue." And he tapped his sword-hilt with a sombre look of terrible significance.
He carried out the cradle.The child slept sweetly through it all.
Rose darted into Josephine's room, took the key from the inside to the outside, locked the door, put the key in her pocket, and ran down to her mother's room; her knees trembled under her as she went.
Meantime, Jacintha, sleeping tranquilly, suddenly felt her throat griped, and heard a loud voice ring in her ear; then she was lifted, and wrenched, and dropped.She found herself lying clear of the steps in the moonlight; her head was where her feet had been, and her candle out.
She uttered shriek upon shriek, and was too frightened to get up.
She thought it was supernatural; some old De Beaurepaire had served her thus for sleeping on her post.A struggle took place between her fidelity and her superstitious fears.Fidelity conquered.
Quaking in every limb, she groped up the staircase for her candle.
It was gone.
Then a still more sickening fear came over her.
What if this was no spirit's work, but a human arm--a strong one--some man's arm?
Her first impulse was to dart up the stairs, and make sure that no calamity had befallen through her mistimed drowsiness.But, when she came to try, her dread of the supernatural revived.She could not venture without a light up those stairs, thronged perhaps with angry spirits.She ran to the kitchen.She found the tinderbox, and with trembling hands struck a light.She came back shading it with her shaky hands; and, committing her soul to the care of Heaven, she crept quaking up the stairs.Then she heard voices above, and that restored her more; she mounted more steadily.
Presently she stopped, for a heavy step was coming down.It did not sound like a woman's step.It came further down; she turned to fly.
"Jacintha!" said a deep voice, that in this stone cylinder rang like thunder from a tomb.
"Oh! saints and angels save me!" yelled Jacintha; and fell on her knees, and hid her head for security; and down went her candlestick clattering on the stone.
