What Came Afterwards CHAPTER 20.

All through the sleepless night that followed the last recorded interview between Justin Larobe and his wife, the former heard, at not remote intervals, movements in the room adjoining the one he occupied, which, to his excited imagination, had mysterious import. A door joined the rooms, but before retiring he had turned the key, which happened to be on his side of the lock. Two or three times he imagined that a hand was laid on this door, and an attempt made to open it; and on these occasions he would rise up in bed, and listen with that breathless concern which makes every heart-beat audible in the ears.

It was a night full of strange terrors! Out of the darkness a malignant face looked upon him! He saw it with shut or open eyes, just the same. Watching him from the covert of half closed lids, was a spirit as cruel as death — athirst with an insatiate desire to work him evil. Well did he know the face!

Morning came at last, and with the first feeble intrusions of dull gray light, the haunting face withdrew. Rising, almost with the dawn, Mr. Larobe dressed himself, and went downstairs. His movements had been quite noiseless. No sound coming at this time from the adjoining chamber, occupied by his wife, he acted on the presumption that she was asleep, and moved silently in order not to disturb her. Half way down, he stopped to listen. Had his ears deceived him? — or was that the rustle of a dress? He stood still, hearkening.

"A mere imagination," he said to himself, and kept on. Only a dim light penetrated the hall. One of the parlor doors stood half open. Pressing it back with his hand, Mr. Larobe entered, and was near a window, which he was going to open, when a sound in the room arrested his steps. Turning quickly, he tried to make out some object; but the light was insufficient. A moment afterwards, and his hand had thrown a shutter open, letting in the day. In the effort to conceal herself behind a column, stood Mrs. Larobe, with a face like marble — cold and changeless. She did not move, as the light came in.

"Jane!" The word dropped in sudden surprise from Mr. Larobe's lips. No response was made. Close against the column, which partly hid her person, the woman continued to stand, with her eyes fixed on Mr. Larobe — the same eyes that all night long had haunted him.

"Jane! Why are you here at this time?" Mr. Larobe came slowly down the room. He spoke with assumed severity. She did not answer, nor for an instant withdraw her eyes. Something in their expression chilled him. On coming nearer, he saw that she was dressed for going out; and that her bonnet and cloak were lying on a sofa.

"Jane! There is one thing you had best understand," said Mr. Larobe, speaking with impressive earnestness, not as severely as just before — and in the tone of one who appealed to reason. "Unless we act in concert — all is lost. There must be no unconsidered step. A false movement — and we are at the end. It is too late now for retreat. Everything done, for good or ill, will abide. I beg you, therefore, to be circumspect. Trust in me a little longer. My mind is calmer than yours. Imminent danger does not unnerve me, as it unnerves you. The cool head, the alert will, the self-reliance that cannot be overthrown — in these lie our only hope."

"It is too late, sir!" she answered, in a dull, perverse way, as she moved from the column behind which she had been standing. "Not the cool head, but the fiery heart, now. This!" — half unsheathing a long dagger!

"Not that!" — Mr. Larobe shuddered.

"Dead men," she added, "tell no tales. If you could have been made to understand the value of that saying years ago, our feet would have been on a solid rock."

Turning away, Mrs. Larobe went to the sofa on which her bonnet and shawl were lying, and catching them up in a resolute manner, commenced putting them on.

"Where are you going?" was demanded, in a tone of authority.

"To do my own will," replied Mrs. Larobe, with undisguised contempt — yet fiercely, as one who meant to have her way.

"I warned you last night, Jane!"

"You coward! A woman means to shame you!" The words were flung at him in bitter scorn.

She had fastened her cloak, and was now tying her bonnet strings. The stronger light that was coming in through the window, fell upon her face. Its cold impassiveness was gone. Flashes of insane fire shot from her eyes — cruel resolution dwelt on her firm lips. From an almost insensate image — she had become transformed into a fiend!

"There are some things more to be dreaded, Justin Larobe, than a conviction of murder," she said. "More fearful risks attend on his life — than on his death. Place the seal of eternal silence on his lips, and you remove a witness whose testimony is destruction. The dead body of a poor lunatic is voiceless. Let him die — and his secret with him! As for after consequences, we can meet them as they come; the worst having been escaped."

She was moving towards the hall while she spoke, with a determined step, evidently intending to leave the house; but Mr. Larobe started forward, and gaining the door, stood directly in front of her.

"It must not be, Jane!" He spoke with stern resolution in his manner. "You are beside yourself!"

"Hinder me at your peril!" cried Mrs. Larobe, raising her hand quickly, and dashing it forward. The gleam of the dagger caught Mr. Larobe's eyes, and he leaped backward in time to avoid the blow which had been aimed at him. In the fright and irresolution that followed, Mrs. Larobe nearly succeeded in getting off; but, he recovered himself in time to grapple with her before she passed the vestibule door and wrest the instrument of murder from her hand. In the struggle, she lost all self-control, and filled the house with wildhysteric screams, arousing the servants and children, who came running down with frightened faces, half dressed, or in their night-clothes. Their presence had the effect to allay, in a degree, the mad excitement of Mrs. Larobe.

"Go for Doctor Holbrook," said Mr. Larobe, speaking to one of the servants, "and say that I wish to see him immediately."

Mrs. Larobe did not object. Even in her blind anger, she saw that it would be safest to let the mystery of this scene find explanation in supposed mental derangement, in order to draw conjecture as far from the truth as possible. So, she permitted herself to be taken to her chamber. Into this room, Mr. Larobe did not allow either the servants or children to intrude; but, shutting them on the outside, attempted to deal with the case alone.

Pale, panting, quivering in every nerve, Mrs. Larobe sat down, and lifting her wild eyes to the face of the man she had no legal or moral right to call her husband, demanded of him his purpose in ordering the attendance of their physician.

"You can see him or not, according to your own good pleasure," was his coldly spoken answer.

"I shall not see him," she replied.

"As you will. But, if I were in your place, I would feign sickness. I covered your wicked attempt on my life, by ordering the physician. He will be here, I doubt not, in less than twenty minutes. Some good reason must appear for the hurried summons. Invent one to suit yourself — but see him; that is my advice."

"What will you say to him?" demanded Mrs. Larobe.

"I have not come to a decision yet," was evasively answered. She looked at him with sharp suspicion.

"One thing, madam, is clear," said Mr. Larobe, speaking now with a stern severity of tone, "from what has occurred this morning, it is clear that you are not a safe person to be at large."

He paused to observe the effect of this declaration made, almost without thought. There was little apparent change in Mrs. Larobe. Almost the only noticeable response was a repressed manner, as if she felt conscious of a superior force.

"Life is too precious a thing to be left unguarded." He paused again, but she did not answer.

"You have grown desperate, and would take the life that stands in your way. Knowing this, my duty is plain."

"What!" She threw out the word with a quick — yet half repressed impulse.

"I would be guilty before the law, if I did not limit your power to do harm."

A long shivering sigh was the only response.

There came a knock at the chamber door. Mr. Larobe crossed the room, and partly opening the door, received a letter which the hand of a servant passed in. His name was on the envelope. Opening it he read —

"Justin Larobe, Esq. — Sir: Last night after eleven o'clock, the Mayor of the city, accompanied by Doctor Hofland and a police officer, came to my louse and removed the old man. I give you the earliest possible notice of the fact. I'm afraid there is trouble in the wind. I hope you have not deceived me as to this person's identity. Dr. Black."

"What is it? Who is it from?" Mrs. Larobe was questioning eagerly before the contents of the letter were half comprehended. Mr. Larobe, after twice reading the communication, handed it to his companion, and sitting down, covered his face. The long dreaded catastrophe was knocking at his door.

"Fool. Fool! Fool!!"

Mr. Larobe started from his shrinking posture. The word was sent into his ears in a mad, despairing cry, the voice rising with each repetition.

"For heaven's sake, Jane, keep down this excitement! All is not yet lost; but, all will be, unless complete self-possession is restored. As things are, so must we take them and deal with them. Suddenly we come into new peril. Shall we sit down, like frightened children, or stupid animals, and let destruction overwhelm us; or shall we look right and left, upwards and downwards, for a way of escape?"

"There is no escape," Mrs. Larobe answered, her face a dead blank.

"When the ship is sinking — who escape?" said the other. "Those who fold their arms in despair — or those who are on the look-out for means of safety? The courageous, the hopeful, the alert — they come out of danger, while the doubting perish. Jane, if there ever was a time when both you and I needed to be cool, self-possessed, and united in action, it is now. There is a barrel of gun-powder under us, and all the steps we take, are on grains of gun-powder which friction may ignite. Even caution may not save us; but, blind dashing about from side to side, and heedless stampings of the feet, can only make destruction sure. Sit down, and listen."

Mrs. Larobe sat down, and looked with a kind of passive incredulity at her companion, who went on —

"Jane, there is one thing to be remembered. Proof of identity in a case like this will be difficult. Almost everything will rest with Du Pontz; and his safety is involved, as well as our own. The death and burial of Mr. Guyton are things of record and public notoriety. This man will have the disability of supposed imposture to contend with from the start. Henrywill deny and contest his father's claim from the very outset; for, if made good, it will dispossess him of twenty thousand dollars, and the interest on that sum for ten years. My standing in the community, and yours, also, will have weight. The case will present unpleasant and humiliating features; but, it cannot go against us, if we defend it bravely and with fair-fronted innocence."

Mrs. Larobe made no reply. In the pause that followed, came another rap on the door.

"What is wanted?" called Mr. Larobe.

"The Doctor has come."

"Very well. Say that I will be down in a moment."

The servant retired. Mr. Larobe stood in thought for some time.

"How do you propose meeting the case, Jane?"

"I do not intend seeing the Doctor," was replied, "Make what excuse you please. Anything to suit yourself. I am indifferent. You can have me put in the insane hospital, if that pleases your fancy. Perhaps, as things now stand, this course would be prudent."

Mrs. Larobe spoke in a dead level tone. The perplexed lawyer looked at her searchingly, but tried in vain to read her state. Was the last suggestion made in irony — or from a latent conviction that there might be safety in this direction? As Mr. Larobe went slowly downstairs, he pondered this view of the case.

"Good morning, Doctor," he said, in an assumed cheerful voice, as he met the young physician. "You were rather hastily sent for, in a moment of needless fright. Mrs. Larobe was up rather earlier than usual — having had a sleepless night from neuralgia — and in going downstairs, slipped and fell. In her fright, she screamed out, and alarmed the family; and you were sent for in the confusion that ensued. Fortunately, no hurt was sustained. She is now sleeping, and it will be best not to disturb her."

"Do you think there was no injury?" The Doctor's suspicious eyes gave Mr. Larobe an uneasy sensation.

"None whatever," he returned, "beyond a slight bruise on the arm."

"Did the neuralgic pain continue?"

"No. The shock received in falling, dispersed the pain entirely. Sleep naturally followed relief. This is a new remedy, Doctor, not down in the books." And Mr. Larobe affected a humorous state of mind. But one hardly safe in application."

"Hardly," answered the Doctor, but without responding to the smile Larobe had forced into his troubled countenance. "I will leave a prescription, the medicine to be taken when she awakens. There may have been an internal shock, the effect of which has not yet become apparent."

"Do so, if you please, Doctor. I will send for the medicine immediately, and see that she has it as soon as this sleep passes."

Doctor Holbrook wrote a prescription, and then went away. Something in his manner left an uneasy feeling with Mr. Larobe. He did not remember, until after the physician's departure, that he was son-in-law to Doctor Hofland. When this recollection came, it was as if water had fallen on his head and trickled coldly to his feet.

"How the path narrows!" he said, with a shiver and sat down alone to think. But, he did not long remain alone. There was a foot-sound on the floor, and looking up, he met the cold, hard face of Mrs. Larobe — hard with the congelation of bad passions.

"Where is the Doctor?" She glanced around the room.

"Gone."

"Gone! What did you say to him?"

"That you were asleep."

"Ah! asleep? God knows if I shall ever sleep again! It were better to be dead, than to live in this terror. Asleep! Ha! ha! You are quick witted, Mr. Larobe, quick witted! Game to the last — ha! ha! That was handsomely done! Asleep, but sleepwalking! Don't look at me with such a scowl. I must laugh a little. And so we are rid of the Doctor. But, do you know who he is, Justin?"

"Yes."

"Doctor Hofland's son-in-law!"

"Yes."

"The Devil's net has many meshes. I doubt if we get free, Justin. This is a hard way to walk in — sore-footed and weary-limbed, I can go no farther. Long, long ago our feet departed from smooth and level roads, and ever since, sharp stones have cut, steep hills have wearied, and miry sloughs have exhausted the strength. And now, as I look onward, I see stonier ways and steeper hills, and blacker pools, down into which we must sink and be lost! Let us end all this, Justin."

Her voice sunk into a calm, persuasive tone.

"Let us put the baying hounds forever off of our track. What if, in the fierce struggle for all we hold dear in life, that is now coming upon us, we are victors? Will not even victory be defeat? What will be left worth living for? I can see nothing — nothing. Tarnished honor — shattered fortune, most likely — social ostracism. No — no — no! I am not now strong enough to meet all this. I want rest and peace — rest and peace, and where shall I find them but in — " She paused, looking earnestly at Mr. Larobe, reading the expression of his face. "The grave!" she added, speaking the words in a rising instead of a falling inflection.

Mrs. Larobe shut her lips tightly, and with an erect position of her body, awaited an answer. It came in these words —

"While there is life — there is hope, Jane. I have still manhood enough left for a strife with fate; and I will battle, bold-fronted, to the last. If you can stand up by my side, well; if not — "

The sentence was left unfinished, but his meaning was clear. A little while they stood opposite to each other, in a mutual effort to penetrate the veil that hid interior thoughts and purpose. Mrs. Larobe moved first. Slowly turning, but without remark, she went into the hall, and ascended to her room. Mr. Larobe did not follow her. It was impressed on his mind, that she would act in the line of her intimation; and he was not wrong. At the breakfast table they met again. She had the cold, stony look he had noticed earlier in the morning. The children observed her with strange, questioning eyes; and Blanche, the simple-minded girl, left her place two or three times during the meal, and putting an arm around her mother's neck, said plaintively, "Don't look so sad, mother. It hurts me."

At dinner time they met again. The face of Mrs. Larobe was colder, stonier, and more unreadable. Neither was disposed to be communicative.

At early twilight, they met again; but now it was as the dead and living meet. Another act in this life-tragedy is over. And, as the curtain falls, you see the pulseless body of Mrs. Larobe, lying upon a sofa, in her own chamber, where it had been lying for an hour. As to the cause and manner of this death, we will not curiously inquire. Enough, that life's fitful fever was over, and that she slept her mortal sleep. Of the dreams that came in this sleep, we have no revelation; and so, the curtain that fell, as the act closed, must rise on other scenes.

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