Our Neighbours in the Corner House CHAPTER 21.
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So much of the mystery was explained; but it brought us, as it were, into the very heart of an unfinished drama, or tragedy, it might prove, with the action still in progress. And it was impossible to hold the position of mere spectators — to sit quietly in the boxed seats and look on. We must take our places on the stage, and become actors in at least some of the scenes that were to follow.
"What are we to do in this matter?" My wife put the question with a sober face. Mrs. Congreve had positively refused to return home while her husband was there.
"I think," was my answer, "that our duty is a plain one. Mrs. Congreve's story has given us facts that alter our relation entirely. On Edgar's account, we have a personal interest in her; and for his sake, as well as for humanity's sake — we must do all in our power to save her from the mental ruin towards which she is now tending. We must let her stay here as long as she will, and make her feel that she is fully welcome."
"If she knew our personal interest in Edgar," said my wife, "it would give us more influence with her."
"For the present," I replied, "we must keep our knowledge of him a secret. She is the wedded wife of Mr. Congreve, and, as such, cannot, innocently — cannot, I mean, if in a sane mind — entertain the feelings and purposes which she avows in connection with Edgar. The shock she has received, and the extraordinary trials which she has endured, have weakened her mind. Feeling has been intensified, while reason and judgment have been enfeebled. She must be guarded and guided in the perilous way which her wavering steps are treading, and to you and I, providentially, has been assigned the duty of helping her to walk in safety along the Valley and the Shadow of Death through which her soul is passing."
"Poor Edgar! I cannot think of him and the past five or six years of his life, without shuddering. I wonder where he can be, and why he has not written to us?"
"One thought, probably, absorbs him," I answered; "the thought of retribution. He is, I do not question, in the pursuit of this man, who has managed so far to elude him."
"But this cannot long continue. He must find him."
"Yes, and speedily. If alive, he may appear on the stage at any moment. We may look for him daily."
"He may not be living," said my wife. "Do you think a man like Mr. Congreve would stop at murder — when so much was involved?"
"In murder, all is jeopardized. It is a fearful stake, and the worst and most daring may well hesitate before casting it down. I hardly think that extremity has been reached in this case."
"Then it is strange that Edgar has been so long in discovering their residence here. They could not have left their home in the West so secretly, that no one knew of their departure or the direction. It would seem to be an easy thing to trace them as far as Pittsburgh, and thence to this city."
"It is probable," said I, "that Pittsburgh was reached by a very indirect way. Mr. Congreve may have taken at first, a different direction, and Edgar may now be hundreds or thousands of miles distant, in a vain pursuit. But no matter what the cause of his absence, Mr. Congreve cannot escape him in the end. This great sin will not go unpunished. I feel sure of that."
"What if Mr. Congreve should come here and demand his wife?"
"I would still leave her free to go or stay," was my answer. "So long as she desires an asylum here, she can have it."
"Can he not remove her by force?"
"No. She is as free, personally, in the eye of the law, as he is."
"I mean," said my wife, "on the allegation of insanity."
"He will scarcely take that step," was my answer.
I was mistaken here. I was informed that a gentleman had called to see me. No name was given; but on going down into the parlor, I recognized Mr. Congreve. He mentioned his name, and said:
"I am your neighbor at the corner house."
I bowed, and requested him to resume the seat from which he had risen on my entrance. He looked very serious, and his manner was that of a man laboring under considerable mental excitement.
"My wife is here." He spoke abruptly, and with a resoluteness of manner that I saw was meant to impress me with the idea that he was a man not to be trifled with — at least not in the present case.
"She is." I tried to speak in a voice which would show firmness, but not indicate antagonism.
"Will you say to her that I wish to see her?"
Now this was bringing on the issue at once. I knew that she would not see him, and I knew, still further, that to take this message would be to excite her mind in a way dangerous to its rational balance. I could have gone from the room under pretense of carrying his request to Mrs. Congreve, and brought back to him words that she had spoken in the most emphatic way to my wife, but this involved subterfuge, and I would not consent to that.
"I think," said I, "that you had better not disturb her this evening."
"And why not?" He was very imperative.
"Perhaps," said I, assuming a rather more decided manner, "your own thoughts will suggest a reason."
His brows drew down suddenly, and his eyes gave a quick flash, as he returned:
"You speak in a riddle, sir!"
"No," I answered calmly, "not in a riddle; but if obscurely to your thought, I can be more explicit. I hardly think it required, however."
I fixed my eyes so steadily upon his face, that his half-insolent gaze was turned aside.
"This is very extraordinary!" he said. "I cannot understand it!"
I made no response to these ejaculations.
"Then you will not even say to my wife, that I wish to see her?"
"I only suggested that it were better not to disturb her," said I. "If you insist on having your desire communicated, I cannot, of course, refuse."
"Then I do insist upon it."
I left the room and saw my wife. After a hurried consultation, she went to Mrs. Congreve, who, on learning that her husband had called and wished to see her, became very much excited, refusing, of course, to meet him.
"Tell him," was her reply, "that, if I can prevent it, he shall never look into my face again!"
I did not change a syllable in this message.
"It is well," he said, showing less disturbance than I had expected.
He then added:
"Of course you have not failed to see that her reason is disturbed?" I assented, unwittingly.
"In other words, and speaking in direct language; she is an insane woman. I had faith, if I could have gained an interview, in my ability to persuade her to return home. Failing in this, I must place her under constraint. It is the last resort; and I would delay it still longer, if possible. But this step, and your evident concurrence therein" — he put an emphasis on the last words — "make my duty clear. If she will not remain under her husband's protection — she must be cared for in another way. An insane woman cannot be permitted to go at large."
He arose, and stood, for a few moments, with something indecisive in his manner.
"I must caution you," he said, "against putting too implicit faith in any statements she may, in her confusion of thought, be led to make. She has taken up some extraordinary hallucinations."
"I can and will make all allowance for the unhappy state of mind from which she is suffering," I replied.
He stood silent again for some moments, and then said:
"I cannot help expressing surprise, sir, that you, as an entire stranger to me and my family — should be so ready to take the responsibility of interference in a matter about which you are wholly ignorant. I am not used to having my path crossed in this way; and do not find it in the least agreeable."
"There has been no interference on my part, sir," I answered. "Your wife came here in a most unhappy state of mind; and we have done all in our power to calm her excitement, and restore the mental equipoise which has been sadly disturbed. We gave her quiet and seclusion. No neighbor, that we are aware of, knows of her presence in our family. If she had been our own sister, we could not have treated her more kindly, or with greater consideration. Have you, then, a right to complain of us? I think not, sir! Anger and forceare not the means of restoration in a case like this. There must be a course of wise conciliation. And you must pardon me for saying that if I am to judge from your temper tonight, you have not always pursued this course towards the woman who has fled from under your roof. I speak plainly, sir, for I think it best in the outset that we should understand each other."
"In the outset of what?" demanded my visitor.
"Of an interaction which does not promise to begin and end tonight," I replied.
He looked at me sharply.
"You are a bold man!" he said.
"I am a resolute man," was my simple answer.
"I am puzzled to know what interest you can possibly have in this affair," he remarked after a while.
"I have an interest in it, notwithstanding," I replied.
"You! What interest, sir?" His manner was a little startled.
"Enough to make me oppose any attempt to remove Mrs. Congreve against her will, from under my roof. And I suggest, now, that you give up at once all thought of placing her in an asylum, as I infer you have intended doing."
He grew pale at this remark.
"So long as she is content to remain here, you had better permit her to remain," I added.
"Most extraordinary!" exclaimed Mr. Congreve, in a perplexed, half angry voice. "I can hardly believe my own ears. It seems that you, an entire stranger, have constituted yourself an umpire in my affairs, and now stand ready to enforce your decisions. I cannot accept your interference, sir, and I will not!"
"You state the case too strongly, Mr. Congreve," said I. "This thing has been thrust upon me. Providentially I have been drawn into a relation with your wife, which makes a certain care for her, a common duty. And when I see a duty clearly, I am in the habit of compelling myself to go forward in its performance, in the face of all consequences. And I wish you to understand, that there will be no holding back in the present case. My advice to you is, to treat me as a friend — and not as an enemy. You will accomplish far more by acting in concert — than in opposition. Consider my house an asylum, if you will, and your wife in care here. I will hold myself accountable to the last particular, for her safety."
Mr. Congreve turned from me abruptly, and walked the full length of the parlor two or three times.
"More extraordinary still!" he ejaculated, stopping before me at last. "I cannot make it out. What possible interest can you have in Mrs. Congreve?"
"There is the interest of common humanity," I replied.
"I don't believe in it! I wouldn't give that for common humanity!" and he snapped his finger and thumb contemptuously. "All talk. There is more beyond!"
He threw the short sentences out impulsively.
"Perhaps there is," said I, thinking it well to warn him.
He startled a little, and again I saw a paler hue on his face.
"I see," he said, "that nothing is to be accomplished tonight," and he made a movement to retire. "You have assumed a serious responsibility, sir; and one that may bring you intotrouble! I am not a man used to having my path crossed; nor one apt to forgive. If I am not always a warm friend — then I pride myself on being a bitter enemy. You have put yourself in antagonism with the wrong man, and I warn you to re-adjust your position, and that right speedily!"
He stood regarding me for a few moments with a malignant gleam in his dark, evil eyes, and then went out hastily. I do not think he saw any sign of fear or wavering in my face.
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