m 
 
 (■I 
 
 I > 
 
 r\
 
 UNIVERSi 1 Y OF 
 
 ILLINOIS I l^ARY 
 
 ATURBANA-C viPAIGN 
 
 BOOKSi. -;ks
 
 KEI BOOKS AT EVERY LIBRARY. 
 
 HEART OF OAK. By W. Clark Russell. 3 vols. 
 PROFESSOR'S EXPERmENT. ByMrs. Hungerford. 3 vols. 
 SONS OF BELIAL. By William Westall. 2 vols. 
 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK. By F. W. Robinson. 2 vols. 
 LILITH. By George MacDonald. i vol. 
 THE IMPRESSIONS OF AUREOLE. 1 vol. 
 DAGONET ABROAD. By George R. Sims. 1 vol. 
 CLARENCE. By Bret Harte. i vol. 
 OTHELLO'S OCCUPATION. By Mary Anderson, i vol. 
 HONOUR OF THIEVES. By C. J. Cutcliffe Hvne. i voL 
 THE MACDONALD LASS. By Sarah Tvtler. i vol. 
 THE PRINCE OF BALKISTAN. By Allen Upward, i vol. 
 THE B:ING IN YELLOW. By Robert W. Chambers, i vol. 
 
 London : CHATTO & WINDUS, Piccadilly.
 
 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 %(U^ 
 
 F. W. ROBINSON 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 COWARD CONSCIENCE,' ' LAZARUS IN LONDON,' * WOMEN ARE STRANGE, 
 
 'the HANDS OF JUSTICE,' ETC. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON 
 CHATTO & WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 1895
 
 M. \ 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. THE GLADWELLS - - - - I 
 
 
 4 
 
 II. QUITE ALONE ! - - - "19 
 
 1 III. SOMEWHAT BREEZY - - "39 
 
 IV. ' POOR MRS. FAREMOUTH ' - - "53 
 
 V. MORE SURPRISES - - - -63 
 
 \, VI. IN BflRS. FAREMOUTH 'S ROOM - - 81 
 
 VIL A SURPRISE ON THE SANDS - - 94 
 
 VIII. SAFE AT HOME - - - - 112 
 
 IX. MAKING IT UP - - - - T23 
 
 X. ON THE PARADE - - - - 139 
 
 XI. AT A LATE HOUR - - - "153 
 
 V XII. 'TELL CLAUDE' - - - - 162 
 
 ^ XIII. AN AWKWARD MEETING - - - 1 78 
 
 ^-.jXIV. MR. GLAD WELL MAKES A SUGGESTION - 1 98 
 
 XV. SUSPICIONS - - - - 212
 
 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE GLAD WELLS. 
 
 She had been ill all the winter, all the spring, 
 and a long way into the bright summer. In 
 the summer-time, amongst the Welsh hills, 
 and with the big, restless sea before her, 
 and the boisterous sea-breezes to blow more 
 life into her, she came round by slow degrees 
 to her old self, she thought ; but this time 
 she had not stepped back to the better, 
 stronger, more natural life as she had 
 hoped — and prayed — that she might do. 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 2 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 It was not to be this season — or at least it 
 was not to be yet. Presently, perhaps, 
 when the heat was less, when the cool 
 nights were longer, when the autumn breeze 
 came round in real earnest, she would be 
 stronger — yes, she was certain of that. 
 That assurance kept her up ; she would 
 wait patiently till then, comforted by the 
 unfailing attention of her husband, who was 
 assiduous, kind, and watchful — an untiring 
 helpmate always. 
 
 At the great watering-place of Great 
 Storn*s Head, North Wales, he and she 
 were as well known as the town-crier, the 
 red- faced white-hatted driver of the Llewellyn 
 coach, the conductor of the music in the 
 great pavilion on the pier — M. Vibert, from 
 the Frivolity Theatre, and once of the Royal 
 Italian Opera, first violin — in fact, as any 
 of the celebrities, aboriginal or otherwise.
 
 THE GLADWELLS 3 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gladwell had been to Great 
 Storn's Head year after year ; they came 
 early and stopped late, with their servants 
 — with poor Mrs. Faremouth. They spent 
 much money in the town ; they rented for 
 the season, and beyond the season, the big 
 house at the back of the Head, one of an 
 imposing cluster of houses looking across 
 a stretch of river, and sea, and sandbanks 
 to distant mountain land, sullen and rugged, 
 and frowning in the shadows, purple and 
 lined with strange streaks of green in the 
 sunlight. 
 
 ' The Gladwells have come to Kossen- 
 dale ' — which was the name of the big 
 house — was significant of the season open- 
 ing at Great Storn's Head, the Gladwells 
 having taken to this Welsh watering-place 
 as to a place that was close to their hearts. 
 Mrs. Gladwell loved it because it always
 
 4 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 brought her health and strength, she said ; 
 ' and what pleased his wife pleased him ' was 
 the assertion of the easy-going husband. 
 Easy-going he was ; at least, he had the 
 credit of being so in the town. He spent 
 money freely, as we have already intimated ; 
 no butcher, baker, or greengrocer had ever 
 known him question an account, and he 
 took charge of all the accounts, to save 
 Mrs. Gladwell worry ; the servants had 
 seldom seen him out of temper ; he had a 
 loud hearty laugh, almost a boisterous laugh, 
 when there was anything to laugh at — an 
 event which did not occur with a too pain- 
 ful frequency at Rossendale. For Rossen- 
 dale was a melancholy house, almost a 
 house under a spell, as we shall see for our- 
 selves presently. 
 
 There was no false pride about James 
 Gladwell. He would as soon spend half
 
 THE GLADWELLS 5 
 
 an hour talking* to a boatman or to the 
 man who collected the twopences at the 
 pier gates, as waste his time with M. 
 Vibert, or any of the cream of the Visitors 
 List — a journal which came out every 
 Friday, and was, oddly enough, read from 
 cover to cover before being passed on to 
 Mrs. Gladwell, in her patent safety, noise- 
 less-tyred, extra-springed bath-chair, and 
 who perused it as carefully and as critically 
 as her husband. Mr. Gladwell wheeled his 
 invalid wife to the pier-head every morning 
 with his own hands, the lady being too 
 precious a freight to trust to ordinary steer- 
 age, and, it must be whispered here, the 
 lady being fretful and nervous and timid, 
 and preferring James Gladwell — ^ Handsome 
 Jemmy ' he had been called in town amongst 
 boon companions, of whom Mrs. Gladwell 
 knew nothing — to be in constant attendance
 
 6 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 by the side of her conveyance when it pleased 
 her to seek the sunshine and sea air. 
 
 And it is when proceeding along the pier 
 at half- past eleven in the morning that we 
 take up the threads of our strange story. 
 Mrs. Gladwell was tastefully and fashionably 
 attired, but James Gladwell might have been 
 taken for a pilot in his blue serge had it not 
 been for his bright scarf, in which was set a 
 gold pin — a mailed hand holding a large 
 pearl, scored and lined like a globe. 
 
 ' How hot it is to-day, James !' said the lady 
 languidly, from beneath the friendly shelter 
 of a white sunshade lined with rose-colour. 
 
 ' Yes, it generally is hot in August,' the 
 husband said, a trifle indistinctly, on ac- 
 count of his favourite briar-wood pipe being 
 stuck between his teeth. It was the one 
 informality he indulged in en attendance, 
 and Mrs. Gladwell offered no objection.
 
 THE GLADWELLS 7 
 
 The pipe \yq,s a compromise — a reward 
 for services rendered — and James Glad- 
 well was a trifle restless without it. He 
 might have gone on strike without it 
 even, and left his wife to the care of the 
 ordinary bath-chair man, for there is no 
 accounting for the actions of a male biped 
 when balked of his tobacco. 
 
 * No air stirring. You notice there is no 
 air stirring, James ?' she asked, in a peevish, 
 wiry little way. 
 
 ' The flag over the band-stand looks 
 rather dead-and-alive,' responded James ; 
 * but we shall have a breeze soon.' 
 ' How can you possibly tell ?' 
 ' Those white clouds yonder are moving 
 on a bit.' 
 
 ' Oh, don't bother me, dear, with your 
 white clouds ; they're miles and miles away 
 from here,' was the fretful response.
 
 8 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 * Yes ; but they're drifting in this direc- 
 tion, and the wind will come with them 
 presently.' 
 
 * Ah ! it is always presently with you/ 
 the wife said satirically. 
 
 James made a wry face as he looked away 
 from her to hide his change of expres- 
 sion. 
 
 * Yes, it is always presently with me,' he 
 added, almost by way of an echo to her last 
 assertion, and the echo had a satirical ring 
 in it, too, to anyone with a fine ear for such 
 music. 
 
 When husband and wife had reached the 
 end of the pier, and a place had been found 
 for the invalid in her chair out of the glare 
 of the sun, and a fair distance away from 
 the blare of the band, where the music 
 could be heard softly, and all the company, 
 as it circled round and round the pier-head
 
 THE GLADWELLS 9' 
 
 and the distant band-stand, seen to its fullest 
 advantage, the fragile, sallow-faced, youngish 
 woman whom we call Mrs. Gladwell broke 
 into another plaintive strain. 
 
 ' It's very cold out of the sun,' she said, 
 with a shiver. 
 
 c Shall I ' 
 
 'No, don't distress yourself any more 
 about me, James ; I like it cold, it's a 
 change from the oppressive heat ; but you 
 may put my cape across my shoulders, if 
 you will.' 
 
 James Gladwell arranged a light cape 
 round the shoulders of his wife, and there 
 were lady visitors who looked on respect- 
 fully and admiringly, and thought with what 
 an attentive husband the poor invalid lady 
 had been blessed. Why, their husbands 
 were not attentive at all, were all over the 
 place, cHmbing the hills, boating, swimming,
 
 lo THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 and a few of the worst of them — and 
 the Lord forgive such monsters ! — smiKng 
 and sniggering at strange females on the 
 parade. 
 
 ' What time did you tell Miss Reeves to 
 come to me, James ?' asked Mrs. Gladwell 
 suddenly. 
 
 * Half-past twelve.' 
 
 * What time is it now V 
 
 * Five minutes to twelve.' 
 
 ' You are in a great hurry this morning 
 to be relieved from your duties, James. Is 
 there any particular reason for it V 
 
 ' I told Billington to keep a machine for 
 me till twenty minutes to one.' 
 
 * I thought you bathed before breakfast 
 this morning.' 
 
 * No, I didn't.' 
 
 ' Where did you go this morning so early, 
 then,' Mrs. Gladwell asked, ' banging the
 
 THE GLADWELLS ii 
 
 door as you went out, and waking up the 
 whole house with the noise ? I had just 
 dosed off after hours and hours of wakeful- 
 ness, of staring at those odious Venetian 
 blinds, of sobbing and praying and im- 
 ploring * 
 
 ' Imploring V 
 
 ' Yes — pardon ! Do you think I'm a 
 heathen, and don't know how to pray V she 
 asked, with a sudden flash of fire in her 
 dark eyes, and a sudden spot of red on 
 either cheek. ' Do you think I can look at 
 the past, the present, the future — oh, my 
 God, the future, James ! — with the coolness 
 that you can look at it all — you with your 
 strength and robust health, and utter in- 
 difference to that which would kill some 
 men — most men V 
 ' Hush !' 
 * I shall not hush,' she said rebelliously.
 
 12 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ' We don t want to talk nonsense on the 
 pier, Lavinia,' he said gently, and by way 
 of remonstrance, * to grow excited over what 
 we can't help, and shouldn't help if we 
 could.' 
 
 * I am not so sure of that.' 
 
 * I am quite sure.' 
 
 Lavinia Gladwell glanced askance at 
 him, and then turned away her head and 
 looked through her long-handled glasses 
 at the crowd of people passing to and 
 fro. It might be as well to change the 
 subject. 
 
 ^ Where did you say you went this 
 morning, dear V she asked softly, and with- 
 out turninsf her head in his direction 
 again. 
 
 James Gladwell bit the stem of his pipe 
 hard, either to suppress his vexation at his 
 wife's persistence, or to keep himself from
 
 THE GLADWELLS 13 
 
 laughing outright ; it was doubtful which, 
 but he answered her frankly enough. 
 
 * I did not say where I went, because you 
 wandered suddenly from the subject, darling,' 
 he replied. ' Like yourself, I was restless, 
 for hours before. I thought I would make 
 a noise going out ' 
 
 ' You did, dear.' 
 
 ' If I had left the house too quietly you 
 miofht not have known that I was out, and 
 have been alarmed at discovering my absence. 
 You are so easily alarmed, Lavinia.' 
 
 ' And you are so distressingly considerate 
 — at times. 
 
 ' Always, dear, always.' 
 
 ' I am not uttering one complaint, and 
 
 God knows I ' She paused, and said in 
 
 a more ordinary tone : ^ Where were you 
 going so early, did you say, James V 
 
 ' So early, you call it ?'
 
 14 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 * It was half-past five.' 
 ' Nonsense.' 
 
 ' I sat up in bed to see the exact time by 
 the clock upon the mantelshelf.' 
 
 ' Indeed ! I left you fast asleep enough, 
 Lavinia.' 
 
 * It was not half-past five, James.' 
 ' Very likely it was not.' 
 
 ' Didn't you know that ?' 
 
 * No. I did not notice the time/ he 
 explained. * But the day was so bright, the 
 air so fresh, that I could not rest.' 
 
 * Or let anybody else rest, James,' she 
 added with a sigh. ' And where did you go ?' 
 
 ' I went Oh ! here is Miss Reeves. 
 
 Miss Reeves, I leave our fair patient in 
 your charge till luncheon,' he said, raising 
 his hat politely ; ' that will be at half-past 
 one precisely. Good-morning, Lavinia, for 
 the present — good-morning.*
 
 THE GLADWELLS 15 
 
 And Mr. Gladwell was off and away, 
 proceeding down the pier with light and 
 agile steps. The small, dark eyes of Mrs. 
 Gladwell followed him. 
 
 ' Miss Reeves/ said the invalid slowly. 
 
 ' Yes, madam.' 
 
 ^ Remind me at luncheon that I want to 
 ask Mr. Gladwell a question, will you, 
 please V 
 
 Miss Reeves inclined her head, and then 
 took her stand by the side of the bath-chair 
 in which her mistress was ensconced. 
 Mistress and companion were somewhat of 
 a foil to each other. The fresh young face 
 of the new-comer was bright and healthy 
 and handsome, by comparison with the 
 sallow, pinched countenance of the sick 
 woman. And yet Mrs. Gladwell had been 
 handsome too, only a few years ago. She 
 was a woman of thirty-five now, but she
 
 i6 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 looked several years older this morning, 
 with that fretful outlook from the recesses 
 of the bath-chair. 
 
 ' I suppose you see already what a strik- 
 ing contrast my husband is to me, Miss 
 Reeves?' Mrs. Gladwell said, still looking 
 after her husband. 
 
 * Of course, there is a contrast — now that 
 you are ill/ 
 
 ' I am always ill. I never get strong. 
 I never shall get strong.' 
 
 ' Oh, I would not think that if I were 
 you, madam.' 
 
 ' How can I help thinking of it when 
 every day robs me of some strength, some 
 hope, some faith ? I am a sad invalid. I 
 shall die soon. Oh dear 1 I am sure I shall 
 die,' she wailed, ' and in spite of all that 
 they say — of all the lies they tell me to keep 
 me from giving way.'
 
 THE GLADWELLS 17 
 
 Miss Reeves did not know how to reply 
 to this. These were early times in which to 
 grow confidential, to show sympathy, to 
 evince great interest. It was not in her 
 J way to respond with alacrity to new faces, 
 new friends — if there were to be any new 
 friends found at Great Storn's Head — to 
 assimilate herself with new surroundings, 
 and glide, as it were, at once into the new 
 groove. Why, it was only yesterday that 
 she was at home with Em — with the 
 mother, who was more of an invalid than 
 this fine lady — with all the romping, rollick- 
 ing boys and girls who had made home a 
 pleasant and happy place, though poor 
 enough 'since father died and left them to 
 get their own living in the best way that 
 they could without him — he apart from all 
 the bother of it in a green corner of Tooting 
 Cemetery. ' The best off* of the lot of them,' 
 
 VOL. I. 2
 
 i8 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 Em said ; but then Em was not quite as un- 
 complaining as she who had come out in the 
 world — to make one less I — and was stand- 
 ing by the side of Mrs. Glad well's chair 
 regarding this new world just a little rue- 
 fully, but not giving way at all — oh no, 
 for all the tears that would come into her 
 eyes ! But then the sun was very strong that 
 morning, and Lower Kennington Lane was 
 such a very long distance away ! And every- 
 thing was different from what she had ex- 
 pected. Well, the way of the world that is ; 
 she had painted too many bright colours in 
 it, that was all !
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 QUITE ALONE ! 
 
 While Muriel Reeves was looking out at 
 her new world, and not liking the general 
 aspect of things so very much at first start, 
 the lady in the bath-chair regarded Muriel 
 in her turn critically, thoughtfully, even 
 wonderingly. What could have induced a 
 girl with her beauty, her common-sense, her 
 lightness of heart, to come to Great Storn s 
 Head as companion to a fretful woman ? 
 For here was a girl who could have done 
 better for herself almost anywhere else, Mrs. 
 Gladwell considered. Muriel Reeves's refer-
 
 20 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ences had been so very good, her friends, 
 acquaintances, employer, had launched into 
 so many encomiums respecting the good 
 qualities, the good temper, the extra abilities 
 of the young lady, that Mrs. Lavinia Glad- 
 well thought the general body of folk 
 Kennington way were in a conspiracy to 
 get rid of Miss Reeves at any sacrifice of 
 veracity, and that there must be something 
 more — something out of the common — to 
 bring the young lady in her direction, and 
 so long a distance from home. 
 
 Mrs. Gladwell was suspicious, but then 
 she was naturally a suspicious woman. She 
 owned that ; it was her affliction, in a way. 
 Her fellow-creatures were not people in 
 whom she could trust. She had seen too 
 much of the seamy side of the world, and 
 met so few folk therein who wore their 
 hearts upon their sleeves. She did not
 
 QUITE ALONE ! 2 1 
 
 herself, so why should she think other 
 people more candid than she was ? Nobody 
 did, not even her husband, James, for all his 
 bonhomie, his frank manner, his straight- 
 forwardness, his generosity — James, who 
 had left the house that very morning at 
 half-past ^ye for no earthly reason that she 
 could make out, unless it was to aggravate 
 her. She hoped that she should not forget 
 to ask James Glad well again what was the 
 cause of his early departure from home. 
 She had a bad habit of forgetting matters 
 of moment now — she had so many harassing 
 things to disturb her, so many painful, ay, 
 and terrible recollections to oppress her 
 mind — she could not think of everything. 
 That was where Miss Reeves would come in 
 handy — if Miss Reeves were to be trusted. 
 Ah, that w^as the question — if she were to 
 be trusted ! * Thoroughly trustworthy,' one
 
 22 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 of the references, a Kennington tradesman's, 
 had said, in a florid, gushing way, as if that 
 were even possible. The fool ! There was 
 nobody thoroughly trustworthy in this 
 world, she was certain. It was not 
 natural. 
 
 ' Have you been in Wales before. Miss 
 Reeves V asked Mrs. Gladwell suddenly. 
 
 ' No, madam,' was the quiet answer. 
 
 ' Do you think you will like Wales V 
 
 Muriel Reeves thought it was premature 
 to ask such a question, but she was not sur- 
 prised, and she answered very readily : 
 
 ' I think I shall.' 
 
 * Why V 
 
 ^ There is beauty in it — the great hills 
 look so grand, the sea is so bright and blue,- 
 the ' She paused, and added in a differ- 
 ent tone, 'It is a pretty place, this Great 
 Storn's Head.'
 
 QUITE ALONE ! 23 
 
 ' I used to think so, but I am very sick 
 of it now.' 
 
 ' Indeed 1' 
 
 ' But, then, I am sick of most things,' she 
 continued wearily — ^ sick of my Hfe, I could 
 say, if life were to be always like this. But 
 I am young, comparatively,' she added, ' and 
 God will not be too hard on me, I dare 
 say.' 
 
 * God will do what is best, be sure, 
 madam.' 
 
 ' Oh, good gracious !' exclaimed Mrs. 
 Gladwell, raising her hands deprecatingly ; 
 * don't tell me, for mercy's sake, that you 
 are a serious woman — really what people 
 call religious ! Not that — anything but 
 that. Your references said that you were 
 cheerful — very cheerful — good-tempered, 
 and so forth.' 
 
 ' And are those traits of character incom-
 
 24 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 patible with being serious, or religious V 
 asked Muriel. 
 
 ' Generally — always,' she replied. ' I have 
 had one serious companion, a poor creature 
 always whining over her soul, and other 
 people's souls, which did not belong to her, 
 and were no business of hers ; and oh ! the 
 dreadful time I had of it until she went 
 away. Don't say you are a second edition 
 of that horrible woman.' 
 
 'No, Mrs. Gladwell,' with a little half 
 sigh that escaped in spite of her. * I am 
 not serious, or what the world calls religious. 
 All the better for me if I were.' 
 
 ' Why ?' the other asked curiously, for the 
 second time this morning. 
 
 * I should have been more resigned, or 
 content, or something,' Muriel said, with a 
 little confusion apparent. 
 
 ' Content — with what V
 
 QUITE ALONE! 25 
 
 'With one's lot in life/ said the com- 
 panion quickly, and with a restless little 
 laugh ; Ms it not that with which we are 
 dissatisfied, madam V 
 
 ' Ye-es — perhaps it is,' replied the invalid, 
 regarding Miss Reeves critically again ; * and 
 if you put it in that way, I hope you are 
 not a clever young woman — too clever, 
 that is — or too quick. I had a clever 
 person once to assist me, and a dreadful 
 time it was for me whilst she remained 
 in my service. She wrote a little, poor 
 thing.' 
 
 * Poor thing, did she ?' replied Muriel 
 Reeves drily. 
 
 * Anyone who writes a little is a sad trial 
 for an invalid who requires to be amused. 
 Miss Reeves.' 
 
 ' Yes ; that is very possible. It must be 
 very sad to write — a little.'
 
 26 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ' I hope you have no scribbling propen- 
 sities ?' said Mrs. Gladwell. 
 
 * Oh no ! or I shouldn't be here/ was the 
 quick answer, which Mrs. Gladwell did not 
 quite like ; indeed, she spent the next few 
 minutes considering it in various ways. 
 
 * You have an astonishingly rapid way of 
 replying — crisp, or a little curt even, I might 
 call it. Is that your natural manner V 
 
 * I am afraid it is, Mrs. Gladwell.' 
 
 * I don't object to it — much — I think,' 
 she added, somewhat doubtfully. ^ Very 
 probably when I get used to it, I shall like 
 it better than I do at present. For I had 
 one companion who was so dreadfully slow, 
 who took so long a time to answer a question, 
 that there were times, really, when I could 
 have thrown something at her ; I believe I 
 did once, now that I come to think of it — a 
 hairbrush, which did not hit her, though ;
 
 QUITE ALONE ! 27 
 
 but, oh, dear, dear, she was terribly irri- 
 tating !' 
 
 Muriel Reeves wondered how many com- 
 panions Mrs. Gladwell had had to put up 
 with — everything she said reminded her 
 mistress of one of the departed rank and 
 file of lady-helps. There had been a long 
 procession of the ignoble army of the in- 
 competent, she was certain already. Ah, 
 well, what did it matter ? She would have 
 had the change for awhile, she thought, a 
 little ruefully, and there were other mis- 
 tresses, other homes, other pursuits to be 
 found ; the world was wide enough, and 
 there were heaps of people in it who wanted 
 to be amused, to be helped, to be taken care 
 of, to be befriended even. 
 
 But what a strange woman this Mrs. 
 Gladwell was to ask questions ! Some 
 people are built that way, and especially
 
 28 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 people who are not of active habits, and 
 who have time to think what they shall ask 
 next. And embarrassing questions, too — 
 how they come uppermost ! Without a 
 doubt Mrs. Gladwell had a right to ask 
 questions concerning a young woman whom 
 she had not set eyes on before last night — 
 and very sleepy eyes they were then — and 
 who was to be ' one of the family,' almost 
 from that eventful time of her arrival. The 
 advertisement had said ' one of the family,' 
 but Muriel Reeves, looking at things in the 
 half lights that were about her at present, 
 was not quite certain that there would be 
 any great advantage attached to the privi- 
 lege. Better not to be one of the family, 
 possibly, if the rest of them were like this 
 particular specimen in the bath-chair. And 
 there was evidently one of the family as ill, 
 and fretful, and odd; she had caught a
 
 QUITE ALONE! 29 
 
 glimpse of her, and had heard of her also 
 from a maid-servant, who was disposed to be 
 communicative, and whose confidences Muriel 
 had summarily checked. 
 
 * Have I mentioned Mrs. Faremouth to 
 you, my sister ? — I forget,' said Mrs. Glad- 
 well suddenly. 
 
 * No, madam, you have not.' 
 
 ' You have not seen her V was the curious 
 inquiry. 
 
 * Is she a tall young lady, with fair hair V 
 ' Yes,' said Mrs. Gladwell, surprised ; 
 
 * you have seen her, then V 
 
 ^ She opened a door on the first floor and 
 looked out as I passed upstairs last night. 
 A sad-looking lady, I thought.' 
 
 * Ah I she is a great invalid ; I suppose 
 it runs in the family — germs, or something,' 
 said Mrs. Gladwell languidly. ' Not one 
 of my family is strong, although I am a
 
 30 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 giantess in strength — mentally, that is — by 
 comparison with my poor sister.' 
 
 * Indeed/ said Muriel, a little ruefully. 
 Mrs. Gladwell was a keen observer, for 
 
 she said quickly — 
 
 * Not that you will have anything to do 
 with Mrs. Faremouth — that is not your 
 business in any way. I think it is as well 
 to mention this. She will have no rio^ht to 
 your services ; it will be a concession, a 
 favour on your part to do anything for her, 
 and you are at liberty always to refuse if 
 anyone should ask you to do so. Or to 
 come to me for further instructions,' she 
 added, after a considerable pause. 
 
 ' If I can help the young lady in any way 
 I shall be only too glad.' 
 
 ' Thank you, it will not be necessary ; I 
 am afraid I shall monopolize most of your 
 time. I am a bit of a fidget, my husband
 
 QUITE ALONE ! 31 
 
 says/ she remarked, with the faintest of 
 smiles ; ' but he is not a patient man him- 
 self, always. If men had only to bear what 
 we women bear they would be more con- 
 siderate possibly, Miss Reeves.' 
 
 * Yes, they are impatient at times,' said 
 Muriel thoughtfully, and she was not think- 
 ing of Mr. Gladwell, but of someone who 
 was very far away, she imagined. 
 
 And that ' someone ' was marching along 
 the pier towards her at that very instant ; 
 an irony of fate, as she might have termed 
 it somewhat appropriately. He was ap- 
 proaching her, the very man over whose 
 impertinence and eccentricity — nay, even 
 his excitable temper, if you will — she had 
 been brooding for a longer period than she 
 would care to confess. 
 
 * I am afraid we shall be late to-day ; it 
 is time we began to move in the direction of
 
 32 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 home/ said Mrs. Gladwell ; ' my husband is 
 very particular and very punctual, so far as 
 meals are concerned. Most men are, I 
 fancy. Will you just walk by my side ? 
 Rest your hand on the side of the chair, 
 which goes almost by itself That is quite 
 right ; that is very nice — oh, good gracious ! 
 you are not going to run, are you ?' 
 
 * I had no idea the chair went along so 
 easily,' said Muriel, who had been taken off 
 her guard by the patent springs and well- 
 poised wheels. 
 
 ' It is one of the best make ; a badly-con- 
 structed machine would have been the death 
 of me long ago,' was the reply. ' It's all 
 right, Miss Reeves ; we shall get along very 
 comfortably now. What a blinding, blazing 
 sun it is, to be sure — almost unbearable ! 
 Oh, dear me, what a dreadful day it is ! 
 Don't you agree with me ?'
 
 QUITE ALONE ! 33 
 
 ' I think it is a very beautiful day/ said 
 Muriel frankly, almost like a young woman 
 who had opinions of her own on most things, 
 and was not afraid to acknowledge them. 
 
 * Ah, if you had only my sense of lassi- 
 tude — my fear of an utter collapse of the 
 system — my lack of energy and natural 
 strength — my awful weakness, my bodil}^ 
 prostration, you wouldn't call this a beautiful 
 day. You — why, the band is finished ! Oh, 
 how late we are ! How unfortunate !' 
 
 And Mrs. Gladwell seemed almost dis- 
 posed to burst into tears. 
 
 * Unfortunate V repeated Muriel wonder- 
 ingly. 
 
 ' There is such an unseemly crowd, and 
 everybody scrambles so desperately to get 
 off the pier after the band is over that it 
 upsets my nerves to be mixed up with them. 
 Draw me on one side, Miss Reeves, please,* 
 
 VOL. I. 3
 
 34 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 she adjured, ' and let the rabble pass. Some 
 of them, in their hurry for lunch, would not 
 hesitate to knock me over, the greedy, robust 
 wretches.' 
 
 Miss Reeves drew Mrs. Gladwell under 
 the sheltering eaves of a little bazaar that 
 was erected midway on the pier, and the 
 crowd of pleasure-seekers streamed by them, 
 chatting and laughing, perhaps a little eager 
 for lunch, a few of them, especially those 
 who were boarded by the week, and did not 
 intend the hotel or boarding-house proprietor 
 should get too much out of them whilst they 
 had strength to get any victuals in. 
 
 * I don't think the company at Great 
 Storn's Head improves,' murmured Mrs. 
 Gladwell ; * when we first came here six 
 years ago, it was more aristocratic, more 
 genteel, and now there is such a dreadful 
 gang of clergymen always strutting up and
 
 QUITE ALONE ! 35 
 
 down, and I cannot bear clergymen, they 
 are so self-saturated. Pity they cannot 
 stay at home a little more and attend to 
 their churches — and chapels — and so forth. 
 And the people from Liverpool and Man- 
 chester — oh ! how distressingly vulgar they 
 are, with their money, and loud voices and 
 guffaws and their obtrusive manners. My 
 husband is far too familiar with most of 
 them — and they assume upon it — and come 
 up and ask how I am, although they don't, 
 as a rule, listen to my reply, but stare over 
 my head vacantly. You are fortunate to be 
 alone in a place like this. Miss Reeves — 
 there is peace for you in it — you will not be 
 harassed or annoyed by objectionable ac- 
 quaintances. Happy woman, you are left 
 to yourself!' 
 
 ' That may be but very poor company,' 
 said Muriel softly.
 
 36 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ' No woman has a depreciative opinion of 
 herself/ 
 
 ' Perhaps not. But she may not care to 
 be alone. She may be fond of society, glad 
 to see the smiles on the faces of friends, 
 to hear the sound of their voices, and 
 to feel the touch of their outstretched 
 hands.' 
 
 * The journey yesterday has been a little 
 too much for you, Miss Reeves — I am sure 
 it has,' said Mrs. Gladwell, in a pensive kind 
 of way. * London is a long way off, and it 
 will presently be a great pleasure to you to 
 think you are away from all your family, and 
 at rest in your new home.' 
 
 ' That will never be a pleasure to me,' was 
 the almost too quick reply. 
 
 * Not to think that you are hundreds of 
 miles away from everybody V Mrs. Gladwell 
 said in faint amazement.
 
 QUITE ALONE ! 37 
 
 ' Oh no ; I wish they were all here/ 
 
 ' What a terrible wish !' said Mrs. Glad- 
 well with a visible shudder. * I should not 
 like you to know anybody in Wales — to 
 have your thoughts distracted by friends, 
 acquaintances, or relatives.' 
 
 ' I am quite alone, so pray don't be un- 
 easy, madam.' 
 
 ' Quite alone V 
 
 * Quite. Hundreds of miles away from 
 everybody,' said Muriel with a sigh. 
 
 ' Yes, that is extremely satisfactory,' re- 
 plied the mistress ; ^ why, I would not have 
 had a companion within a radius of two 
 
 hundred miles for Good gracious! 
 
 Great Heaven ! who is this ? 
 
 A tall, broad-shouldered young man, with 
 closely-cropped black hair, and large black 
 eyes, and a complexion that was a little 
 lemony, was standing in front of Miss
 
 38 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 Reeves, with both hands outstretched, and a 
 grin which extended from ear to ear. 
 
 ' Muriel — you ? I can't be dreaming ! 
 It is you !' was his exclamation ; * was ever 
 anything so surprising as this ! So lucky !' 
 
 ' Oliver r exclaimed Muriel with dancing 
 eyes and a strange shortness of breath. 
 ' Well, I never !' 
 
 Then the two shook hands very heartily, 
 and were evidently extremely glad to meet 
 each other.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SOMEWHAT BREEZY. 
 
 It is a moot question which was the more 
 surprised of the two women on the pier of 
 Great Storn's Head. The advent of the 
 tall, dark-haired man came like a thunder- 
 clap to both of them, but it brought a new 
 brightness to Muriel Reeves, and a keen, 
 even a bitter sense of disappointment to the 
 sick woman in the bath-chair. One had 
 been inwardly regretting that she was 
 hundreds of miles from kith and kin, and 
 the other had been inwardly rejoicing that 
 that was a nice, isolated condition for her
 
 40 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 companion, and lo ! here, in the first hour of 
 Muriel Reeves's new * engagement,' had 
 sprung into life — and into a very obtrusive, 
 self-assertive life indeed, thought Mrs. Glad- 
 well — a big, ungainly, high - shouldered 
 person, with a face like an Italian bravo's, 
 and with a grin like an organ-grinder's of 
 the same nationality. A bravo in a good 
 temper, but an exceedingly objectionable 
 creature, thought Mrs. Gladwell, and who 
 was on sufficiently friendly terms with her 
 companion to address her by her Christian 
 name. And Miss Keeves had actually called 
 the fellow ' Oliver.' 
 
 The incongruity of the situation struck 
 Miss Reeves * all of a heap ' — to put it in- 
 elegantly but forcibly. 
 
 Only a few seconds ago this young person 
 was talking of her isolation — with a quiver 
 or two of regret over it escaping in little
 
 SOMEWHAT BREEZY 41 
 
 puffs from her dissatisfied heart — and, hey, 
 presto ! here she was, shaking hands with 
 an old friend, a somebody who, at one time 
 or another, had possibly been more than 
 a friend, judging by the blushes which 
 were chasing each other over a very tell- 
 tale countenance. Embarrassment followed 
 quickly upon the surprise and pleasure 
 of an unlooked-for recognition, and finally 
 Muriel's face took a shade of consterna- 
 tion as she turned impulsively to her mis- 
 tress. 
 
 ' I — I beg pardon, madam,' she said, with 
 a little confusion apparent, ' but this gentle- 
 man is — is a friend who I thought was 
 thousands of miles from here — whom I — I 
 — never expected to see again. Mr. Oliver 
 Toope, madam, of the merchant service, a 
 very old friend of my mother's. Mr. Toope, 
 Mrs. Gladwell,' she added, in a formal intro-
 
 42 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ductory kind of manner, which took her 
 mistress's breath completely away. 
 
 Oliver Toope raised a black straw hat 
 politely from his head ; but Mrs. Gladwell 
 did not respond, not even by the ghost of a 
 bow. 
 
 She was simmering with suppressed in- 
 dignation at the amazing liberty of her 
 companion s introducing a friend to her, 
 without so much as asking permission in the 
 first instance. But she was breathless and 
 tongue-tied at present — struck dumb with 
 consternation — and could only affect a deep 
 interest in an outgoing fishing-smack, and 
 regard it intently through her glasses, which 
 were shaking visibly in her right hand. It 
 was already in evidence that Mrs. Gladwell 
 was offended in a high degree. 
 
 ' Very glad to make your acquaintance, 
 Mrs. Gladwell,' said Oliver Toope, with a
 
 SOMEWHAT BREEZY 43 
 
 most aggravating display of self-possession. 
 * A fi'iend of my Muriel's — I mean, a friend 
 of Miss EeevesV he corrected, but with eyes 
 that twinkled strangely, in response to 
 Muriel's frown at him — ' should very natur- 
 ally be a friend of mine ; for I have known 
 Muriel — Miss Reeves, I should say — ever 
 since she was a little mite about so 
 high.' 
 
 He took great pains to indicate Muriel's 
 exact stature by stooping and placing his 
 hand about a foot and a half from the deck 
 of the pier ; but Mrs. Gladwell continued to 
 look stolidly after the fishing-smack which 
 was sailing out of the bay, and paid not the 
 slightest heed to his information. 
 
 Yes, Mr. Toope was hasty. He paused, 
 looked back at the lady in the bath-chair, 
 and then swung round to Muriel Reeves, 
 with the light gone from his countenance,
 
 44 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 and his complacent grin a dream of the 
 past. 
 
 ' Muriel, this lady is a friend of yours, I 
 presume V 
 
 * Mrs. Gladwell is my new mistress,' 
 Muriel replied demurely and significantly. 
 
 ' What ! What is that you say V he 
 almost shouted. 
 
 * I only came to Wales last night, to my 
 new occupation in Mrs. Gladwell's service,' 
 she said between lips which were closed 
 somewhat tightly now, as though Miss 
 Reeves was possessed of a little temper of 
 her own — which was a fact, and Oliver 
 Toope had had some experience of it. 
 
 That little temper — or his * hot-headed 
 tomfoolery,' as he had called it later on, 
 when he and Muriel had agreed to differ — 
 recurred to him precipitately, and once more 
 his countenance changed, and a prominent
 
 SOMEWHAT BREEZY 45 
 
 and decisive chin rested on his turn-down 
 shirt-collar. 
 
 ^Oh!' said he, '1 did not know. Of 
 course I was not aware of that. In service 
 — you ! To that lady ? Oh, Lord ! what 
 has happened, Muriel, at Kennington since 
 I have been away V 
 
 ' Nothing particular.' 
 
 ' I am sure there has, and you are trying 
 to deceive me !' he exclaimed. ' That's too 
 bad of you. Oh, it's too bad altogether, 
 upon my soul it is ! And I won't stand it, 
 whatever you say, Muriel. You had no 
 riofht to — to ' 
 
 ' Oliver, don't be a fool, just for this once, 
 to oblige me,' she added in a more concilia- 
 tory tone, 
 
 ' But I don't understand what — what the 
 devil you have been up to !' he blurted 
 forth.
 
 46 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 This was too much for Mrs. Gladwell ; it 
 became absolutely necessary to recognise the 
 existence of Mr. Oliver Toope after all. 
 Mrs. Gladwell found her voice, and a very 
 icy or vinegary article it had become — a 
 blood-curdling voice, an unexcellent thing in 
 woman. 
 
 * Miss Reeves, I must really trouble you 
 to wheel me home immediately. It is quite 
 impossible that I can sit here, in this help- 
 less and unprotected state, and listen to the 
 bad language of your extraordinary friend. 
 Dismiss this person, please,' she added, with 
 extreme loftiness of demeanour, ^ and take 
 me to Rossendale at once. I am surprised, 
 Miss Keeves, and shocked, and grievously 
 disappointed in you. I was never treated 
 like this in all my life before, and I shall 
 inform Mr. Gladwell of your extraordinary 
 behaviour directly I reach home. How
 
 SOMEWHAT BREEZY 47 
 
 dare you, in my weak state ? How dare 
 V 
 Well/ began Mr. Toope, ^ of all 
 
 you ? 
 
 the- 
 
 ' Oliver, go away !' interrupted Muriel, in 
 almost a half-shriek at him. 
 
 * What, like this, after you have been 
 insulted in this fashion by that old party — 
 you, of all girls ! No, I won't go away. 
 I'll come on with you, and see the end of 
 this business,' he cried, as red in the face as 
 a pillar-box. ' Do you think I'm going to 
 let you ' 
 
 ' If you don't go away, Oliver, I'll never 
 speak a word to you again,' exclaimed Muriel 
 indignantly. 
 
 'Oh, I'll go, then. I don't want to vex 
 you — God forbid, so soon as this, too, and 
 not clapping eyes on you for the last six 
 months. But I'll call this evening, mind.'
 
 48 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 * If you come to my house, sir, I shall 
 certainly give you in charge/ said Mrs. 
 Gladwell decisively. 
 
 * I shall come, charge or no charge/ he 
 answered, drawing himself up at least a 
 couple more inches as he spoke ; ' you may 
 depend upon that, madam. She,' with a 
 nod of his head towards Muriel, ' knows I'm 
 a man not easily frightened. I shall come, 
 and sharpish, too. Rossendale — Gladwell ; 
 I shan't forget the names, and I hope you are 
 not difficult to find. Good-morning, madam. 
 Good-day to you, Muriel, for the present.' 
 
 He raised his straw hat again, and strode 
 away to the end of the pier as though he 
 had seven-leagued boots on. He was in a 
 towering passion. It was necessary to walk 
 off the steam, and it was lucky for the 
 visitors that they had all drifted from the 
 pier, for Mr. Oliver Toope was running
 
 SOMEWHAT BREEZY 49 
 
 amuck with his cane held in front of him 
 Hke a javeHn. 
 
 Meanwhile, Muriel was gently pushing 
 home the chair which contained the heated 
 body of her mistress, who was rating her in 
 a high voice which attracted not a little 
 attention as they went along the parade and 
 across the asphalte to the high road which 
 meandered round the Head of the Great 
 Storn. 
 
 All Mrs. Gladwell's languid manners had 
 evaporated under the influence of the undue 
 excitement brought on by Miss Reeves's 
 unjustifiable behaviour ; the annoyance had 
 been too much for the lady, and her placidity 
 of deportment was utterly cast to the winds. 
 Muriel Reeves was surprised at the change — 
 had not expected it from one apparently so 
 fragile and weak ; it was a new phase of 
 character for which she was quite unpre- 
 
 VOL. I. 4
 
 so THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 pared. Muriel Reeves had plumed herself 
 in the old days upon being 'a bit of a judge' 
 of character, too, and her friends had flattered 
 her, perhaps, by telling her so, and here 
 she was utterly at fault and considerably 
 astonished. Why, the boys with the goat- 
 chaises, the fly-drivers, the sniggering touts 
 for shilling drives in rickety vehicles round the 
 Storn, all knew this better than the flushed- 
 faced young beauty pushing the lady home- 
 wards with a hand that trembled not a little. 
 
 * The new girl's getting it 'ot, Jem,' one 
 man called to another. 
 
 ' Ah, she didn't know what she was 
 comin' to, I reckon. Bill,' was the answer, 
 accompanied by a guffaw that went off* like 
 a pistol-shot. 
 
 And Muriel Keeves heard every word 
 with a heart that sank within her. ' What 
 she was coming to !' Ah, it was just that 1
 
 SOMEWHAT BREEZY 51 
 
 If she had only known — if, in her sturdy 
 sense of what was right, what was due from 
 her, what it had been her duty to do for 
 the sake of the family at least, if she had 
 only known ! Not that Mrs. Gladwell's 
 tantrums affected her very seriously after 
 the first surprise was recovered from ; they 
 only sent her pulse up a degree or two in a 
 temporary fashion that she, a high-spirited 
 girl, suffered from now and then. It was 
 not the events of the morning exactly — she 
 would have been puzzled to define what it 
 was — but her heart sank, despite the fact 
 that an old sweetheart had turned up, was 
 very near to her again, and anxious — that 
 was evident enough — to treat bygones as 
 bygones, and be just the same to her as he 
 had ever been. And she had always been 
 the same, the great silly ! — only men are 
 so wilful and foolish and blind. 
 
 LIBRARY — -- -
 
 52 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 Still, if she had only known, poor Muriel, 
 what was lying in wait for her, pressed down 
 and folded between the pages of the Great 
 Book, she would have fled with horror from 
 Rossendale. But we do not always know 
 what is bad for us.
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 ' POOR MRS. FAREMOUTH.' 
 
 We need not dwell at any great length upon 
 the animated lecture, delivered with much 
 fluency and vigorous gesticulation, with 
 which Muriel Reeves was favoured during 
 her homeward route to Rossendale. Muriel 
 thought that she had never been so con- 
 temptuously treated in her life — indeed, that 
 life had been a little spoiled and pampered 
 on the whole, some people considered — and 
 she was already sketching forth a course of 
 action on her own part, prompt and decisive 
 enough for anything, which, as it speedily
 
 54 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 evaporated into thin air, it is not necessary 
 to dilate upon in these pages. 
 
 Muriel did not respond to the objurgations 
 heaped upon her all the way home ; for the 
 first time almost in her life she was conscious 
 of possessing the wonderful gift of ' reserve 
 force.' The readiness of retort, her quick 
 and at times very sharp tongue, never stirred 
 in her sweet mouth on this particular occa- 
 sion, and, save a little contraction of the 
 broad white brow, it would not have been 
 easy to detect that Miss Muriel Reeves was 
 in any way ^ put out.' 
 
 Let her think it all over — in her own 
 room, shut in away from all of them, pre- 
 sently. It was not easy to determine how 
 to act — and the spur of the moment was 
 not to prick too quickly the sides of her 
 intent. 
 
 Think it all out she must, and with Oliver
 
 ' POOR MRS. FAREMOUTH ' 55 
 
 Toope to complicate so absurdly the posi- 
 tion. 
 
 After all, Oliver had marched into the 
 light of day again, just as she had thought 
 that he would a few months ago — not now ! 
 — and Mrs. Gladwell's eccentricities did not 
 matter so very much, with old Xoll in the 
 foreground just the same as ever — just the 
 same bad-tempered, jealous, aggravating, 
 good-hearted, sensible, straightforward chap 
 whom everybody quarrelled with, but whom 
 everybody liked. At least, she liked him — 
 more than he ever knew perhaps — and after 
 that what did it matter what Mrs. Gladwell 
 thought of her, or what spiteful innuendoes 
 and waspish remarks were hurled at her 
 from the recesses of the bath-chair ? 
 
 Mrs. Gladwell was an invalid. She — 
 Muriel — had been warned already not to 
 excite her, and to do her best in all ways to
 
 56 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 amuse her. Let the sick woman consider 
 herself ' privileged ' for a while. There was 
 plenty of time. 
 
 So Mrs. Glad well had it all to herself, 
 and took satisfaction to herself that her new 
 companion was overwhelmed by her tirades, 
 overpowered by her eloquence of denuncia- 
 tion, her satire, and her contumely. This 
 was a companion to be trained quickly — a 
 companion she should like presently when 
 she had put her completely in her place. It 
 was a real comfort to have someone who 
 could bear to be admonished. Her policy 
 was to act quickly and decisively in this 
 case ; an unlooked-for incident had happened, 
 and she had had to take the matter into her 
 own hands. She should suffer for it in due 
 course — the reaction would bring on nervous 
 prostration, bodily ailments of all kinds and 
 conditions, from palpitations to cold sweats ;
 
 'POOR MRS. FAREMOUTH' 57 
 
 but she had asserted and won her supremacy, 
 and poor Miss Reeves had not a single word 
 to say in self-defence. This was really some- 
 thing like a companion, and, not having been 
 disturbed by an opposing word, Mrs. Glad- 
 well was inclined to soften when they had 
 reached the gates of Rossendale. 
 
 ' I trust that this will be a lesson to you, 
 Miss Reeves,' s he said ; ' I do indeed ; but 
 you will agree with me that it is a most 
 unfortunate beginning of our intercourse — 
 a very unfortun ate commencement indeed ; 
 and only time and a proper sense of your 
 position can make amends for what has 
 occurred this morning.' 
 
 Muriel bowed slightly, but did not reply. 
 
 'And, upon second thoughts, I do not 
 fancy that I shall trouble Mr. Gladw^ell with 
 this matter. He has quite enough upon his 
 mind without it, poor fellow !'
 
 58 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 Muriel found her voice at last. 
 
 ' I may trouble Mr. Gladwell myself/ she 
 said quietly. 
 
 ' Eh ! what, Miss Eeeves V 
 
 ' At least — it is probable,' she added, with 
 a little hesitation. 
 
 ' But !' 
 
 * But I have to consider a few remarks to 
 which you have given expression — and to 
 reply to them when you are more composed 
 in mind, Mrs. Gladwell,' said Muriel. 
 
 ' I have spoken out, and there is an end 
 of it,' said Mrs. Gladwell decisively. 
 
 ' Oh no, madam, this is not the end of it,' 
 Muriel replied, with a little shake of the 
 head ; Hhis is only the beginning of it.' 
 
 And then, having wheeled Mrs. Gladwell 
 to the front entrance, Muriel Reeves left 
 Mr. Gladwell, who had emerged from the 
 dining-room into the large tessellated hall, to
 
 'POOR MRS. FAREMOUTH' 59 
 
 assist his better half from the vehicle and 
 escort her carefully into the house, her hand 
 upon his arm. Muriel went swiftly upstairs 
 towards her own room ; but a door on the 
 right of the first landing-place opened softly 
 as she passed, and a white, rigid, yet 
 strangely fair face — as if cut in marble — 
 peered thi'ough the aperture at her. This 
 was Mrs. Faremouth, of whom she had 
 caught a passing glimpse last night — the 
 lady whom she was not to regard in any 
 way, unless she particularly wished to put 
 herself out to serve her. 
 
 Yes, she was ' a tall young lady,' as 
 Muriel Reeves had described her to her 
 mistress, very fair, and of some seven or 
 eight and twenty years of age, but in the 
 broad davlig-ht which flooded the landinof- 
 place it was evident that poor Mrs. Fare- 
 mouth ^ was somethinor more than that.' 'A
 
 6o THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 sad-looking lady/ Muriel had added to her 
 description ; but Mrs. Faremouth was some- 
 thing more than that also. Never was a 
 face so full of the troubled depths of misery 
 as that which peered from the half-open 
 door. Melancholia had claimed it for its 
 ow^n, and there was a look of fear in those 
 unduly dilated blue eyes that was not plea- 
 sant to contemplate. Terror, despair, and 
 melancholy madness were all visible in 
 that white countenance. Never a smile 
 could brighten such a face again, or set 
 lighter curves upon those drooping lips, 
 Muriel thought, as she gazed back at her, 
 wonder-stricken. It was a face which she 
 had seen in dreams — perhaps never in actual 
 waking life before — a beautiful face, but 
 without a single hope in it. 
 
 ' Who are you ?' she said very eagerly, in 
 the faintest of whispers, to our heroine.
 
 'POOR MRS. FAREMOUTH' 6i 
 
 ' Tell me, for heaven's sake, why you have 
 come here V 
 
 Muriel was a stout-hearted girl, but she 
 was somewhat appalled. The unexpected, 
 which always happens, was meeting her at 
 every turn of her new life. It was with a 
 voice that faltered a little in spite of her 
 that she replied to the inquiry. 
 
 ' I am the new companion to your sister.' 
 
 ' Another V 
 
 ' Yes, another,' was the dry response. 
 
 * What is your name V came the same 
 eager and excited whisper. 
 
 ' Muriel Reeves.' 
 
 * You have not come to take me away — 
 really V 
 
 ' Really.' 
 
 ' Ah ! that's well. That is so good of 
 you !' 
 
 And with a long-drawn sigh which echoed
 
 62 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 strangely on the landing-place, Mrs. Fare- 
 mouth backed into the room and closed the 
 door softly behind her. Muriel proceeded 
 upstairs to her own room on the second- 
 floor with somethinof more to think of than 
 she had bargained for. The face, fair as it 
 was, had frightened the past indignation out 
 of her ; her outraged sense of w^ounded 
 dignity had given way to a new, odd feeling 
 of alarm. There was already in her mind 
 an impression of something strange about 
 the house, the people in it, the life which 
 stretched ahead of her — an atmosphere of 
 mystery which seemed already rising up to 
 encircle her, as a mist from the sea, and 
 presently she might be submerged in it 
 herself All this perplexed her, and her 
 stay at Rossendale was not twenty-four hours 
 old yet.
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 ORE SURPRISES. 
 
 Muriel Reeves went downstairs to luncheon 
 in a calmer frame of mind ; she thought that 
 she had arrived at a decision as to the right 
 course to pursue consistent with her self- 
 respect, but we have already intimated that 
 the resolution came to nothing, and that the 
 oncoming course of events was too strong for 
 her. 
 
 It was a dull luncheon party, but this had 
 been anticipated. Mrs. Gladwell was far 
 from well after her undue excitement, and 
 sat at the foot of the table a white- faced,
 
 64 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 limp specimen of femininity — 'just like a 
 threadpaper,' the waiting-maid said after- 
 wards to the cook downstairs — and uttered 
 scarcely a word whilst the luncheon was in 
 progress. 
 
 She ate very little, and regarded her 
 husband with lack-lustre eyes as he made 
 some few attempts to be conversational and 
 to put the new-comer at her ease. James 
 Gladwell sustained the bulk of the conversa- 
 tion, and spoke in a cheery, semi-guttural 
 tone to Mrs. Gladwell chiefly, detailing his 
 meeting with various townsfolk and visitors 
 who had crossed his path that morning, and 
 whose remarks or comments on the news of 
 the day he thought it might interest his 
 wife to recapitulate. But there was little 
 show of interest. Mrs. Gladwell's reaction 
 had reduced her to an unemotional and 
 passive state, and Muriel, glancing askance
 
 MORE SURPRISES 65 
 
 at her, began to feel a strange pity for her 
 prostrate condition. 
 
 Mr. Gladwell, evidently a shrewd observer 
 in his way, said suddenly : 
 
 ^ Has the heat of the day been too much 
 for you, Lavinia V 
 
 * I am afraid it has, James.' 
 
 ' You don't feel quite so well to- 
 
 day?' 
 
 ' I am afraid I am very much worse.' 
 
 ^ You haven't had anything to excite you, 
 
 I hope — to put you out in any way this 
 
 morning ?' 
 
 * Nothing that is worth troubling you 
 with, James,' she said, her dark eyes turning 
 in Muriel's direction for the first time. ' A 
 little discussion with Miss Reeves, that is 
 all. But there — it is over and done with. 
 I was hasty — you know my way, James, 
 when I am put out.' 
 
 VOL. I. 5
 
 66 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK ! 
 
 ^ I do,' said James Gladwell dryly ; then 
 he burst into a laugh, and Muriel did not 
 know whether to feel offended or to consider i 
 Mrs. Gladwell was, in an indirect fashion, ] 
 making a half-hearted kind of apology for | 
 her previous exhibition of bad temper. 
 
 * Ah, it is no laughing matter, James,' 
 said Mrs. Gladwell reproachfully ; * it wall 
 take me days to recover — my nerves are ] 
 completely shattered.' ' 
 
 ' May I ask what was the subject of con- i 
 tention, Lavinia V said Mr. Gladwell, looking 
 at Muriel over the rim of the champagne 
 glass that he was raising to his lips — Mr. i 
 Gladwell always had a pint bottle of cham- ! 
 pagne for his lunch — and Muriel felt that I 
 
 that face would break into a smile at his i 
 
 i 
 
 wife's expense if she did not preserve an i 
 extra degree of gravity at that particular 
 moment. !
 
 MORE SURPRISES 67 
 
 ' Oh, pray don't let us talk about it,' said 
 his wife. ' Unfortunately I was too hasty. 
 I am often so. Miss Reeves. You must not 
 take me au serieux always.' 
 
 ' No, no, of course not. Only fancy if I 
 had always taken you au serieux, Lavinia,' 
 added Mr. Gladwell cheerfully. ' Miss 
 Reeves is too sensible a young lady to do 
 that. Why, patience was one of your most 
 attractive credentials to Mrs. Gladwell, Miss 
 Reeves ; I assure you it was.' 
 
 * I am sorry to have disturbed Mrs. Glad- 
 well in any degree, but ' 
 
 ' There is no occasion to keep harping on 
 the subject,' said Mrs. Gladwell in a peevish 
 tone again. * When you understand me 
 better you will not take too readily to heart 
 all that I say, Miss Reeves. You do not 
 know what affliction, heavy trials, and 
 anxiety make of a woman as weak and
 
 68 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 impressionable as I am, or as that poor 
 sister of mine upstairs is.' 
 
 * My dear, there is no use in bringing 
 Mrs. Faremouth into the question,' said her 
 husband quickly. 
 
 ^ I am growing like her ; every day I am 
 getting more like her, James,' she cried, 
 with a sudden effusion of tears. ^ That is 
 the fear which is weighing me down, that I 
 shall give way altogether — altogether — alto- 
 gether !' she repeated in dispair. 
 
 * You see. Miss Reeves,' said Gladwell, 
 with a disconsolate shrug of the shoulders, 
 * that you must make allowance at times for 
 my dear wife's manner. It is only a tem- 
 porary weakness, a something from which 
 she will recover speedily in this place, as 
 she always does.' 
 
 ' It is all that hateful London,' said Mrs. 
 Gladwell, making little dabs at her eyes
 
 MORE SURPRISES 69 
 
 with the lace handkerchief which she had 
 rolled into a ball, ^ and poor Gertrude, up- 
 stairS; unnerves me so dreadfully. She is 
 always so miserable and silent. Would you 
 believe it, Miss Reeves, could you credit it 
 of any human being, that she has not 
 spoken to us for two years V 
 
 ' Not spoken to you or Mr. Gladwell V 
 said Muriel, in amazement. 
 
 * Not a single word. It is beyond her 
 power now, we think — we are sure. The 
 doctor says it is a kind of nervous paralysis. 
 Her mind is affected, poor dear ; it has been 
 so for ten years or more. She was only 
 eighteen then, and a young wife. My 
 mother was like it, died like it, so we fear 
 the very worst,' Mrs. Gladwell ran on. 
 * Can you be surprised if I am easily excited 
 or cast down V 
 
 Muriel was not very much surprised at
 
 70 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 it ; but she was considerably astonished at 
 the information which had been gratuitously 
 afforded her. What did they mean by tell- 
 ing her that young Mrs. Faremouth had not 
 spoken for years ? Were they attempting 
 for some mysterious reason to impose upon 
 her credulity, or was this Mrs. Faremouth 
 playing a part and deceiving them ? There 
 was no object to be gained in telling her a 
 falsehood, which a few hours, a few minutes, 
 would disprove. 
 
 ' Mrs. Faremouth has not spoken for two 
 years to you V Muriel murmured. 
 
 * Not for two years. Before then she 
 was very uncontrollable indeed. Is it not 
 remarkable, this silence V 
 
 * Neither to the servants — to ' 
 
 * Not a living soul. She hears, she under- 
 stands. In her best days, when she is dis- 
 posed to take notice of passing things, she
 
 MORE SURPRISES 71 
 
 communicates with us by signs,' exclaimed 
 Mrs. Glad well, *but not a word escapes her 
 lips. If we could only hear her speak it 
 would be so comforting a sign of her return- 
 ing health — of the malady having run its 
 course. As it may do, they say — those who 
 are more hopeful of the case than we are. 
 Mr. Gladwell and I have given up all hope. 
 We are so sure — Miss Reeves, what are 
 you looking like that for ? What is the 
 matter ? Aren't you well V 
 
 ^ Madam, you are labouring under a de- 
 lusion,' said Muriel, almost sharply. 
 
 * A delusion !' 
 
 * Mrs. Faremouth spoke to me this morn- 
 ing.' 
 
 ' What — is — that you say V asked Mrs. 
 Gladwell, in little gasps, and with her eyes 
 widely distended. 
 
 * Spoke to you ! — you don't mean it !'
 
 72 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ejaculated Mr. Gladwell, bounding from his 
 chair, and knocking over his champagne 
 bottle on to the carpet. ' You must be 
 mistaken, Miss Reeves.' 
 
 ' No, I am not mistaken,' was the reply. 
 ' I was passing her door, when it opened, 
 and the young lady, Mrs. Faremouth, 
 stepped out, and asked me if I had come 
 to take her away. She seemed relieved in 
 mind when I explained that I was not there 
 with any such intention, and said, " Ah, 
 that is so good of you !" Then she went 
 back into the room and shut herself 
 in.' 
 
 Mr. Gladwell's fingers went up to his 
 mouth, and pulled at a wisp of moustache, 
 with which his upper lip was adorned, and 
 Muriel saw that his hand was shaking, and 
 that his face had changed to a dull, brick- 
 dust hue. Mrs. Gladwell had clasped her
 
 MORE SURPRISES 73 
 
 hands together, and was looking at her 
 husband almost piteously. 
 
 ' It is awfully strange/ he muttered ; ' it 
 is to me at present beyond belief/ 
 
 * It is a miracle — or — she has been able 
 to speak all the time,' said Mrs. Gladwell in 
 a husky whisper. 
 
 * Or one of the servants has been playing 
 a trick upon Miss Reeves,' said James Glad- 
 well, with a frown. ' By Heaven, she shall 
 not stop another moment in the house if 
 this should be the case !' 
 
 ' Surely no one would make a joke of 
 so solemn an affliction as this has been to 
 us,' murmured Mrs. Gladwell. 
 
 * A bad servant will do anything,' affirmed 
 Mr. Gladwell. 
 
 ^ It was no servant,' said Muriel ; ' this 
 was a tall, fair-haired lady, very handsome, 
 very slight of figure, very feeble.'
 
 74 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 * Yes — it must be Gertrude. Miss Keeves, 
 will you do me a great favour ?' said Mrs. 
 Gladwell. ^ I have no right to ask you — I 
 have not been kind to you — there ! — but if 
 you only would, it would be so great a 
 favour, and help us so much to solve a 
 mystery/ 
 
 ' What can I do V asked Muriel hesi- 
 tatingly. 
 
 ' What can Miss Reeves possibly do V 
 asked her husband, with a doubtful look 
 from one to the other. ' It will not 
 do to hazard any rash experiment, 
 Lavinia.' 
 
 * No, no ; but it is only to make assurance 
 doubly sure, James,' urged Lavinia eagerly. 
 ' If this be true — if a change for the better 
 has occurred in this strange, sudden fashion 
 — Gertrude would probably speak to Miss 
 Reeves again. The ice having once been
 
 MORE SURPRISES 75 
 
 broken, it would not be difficult to get 
 further speech from her. She who would 
 not reply to us at present, might respond to 
 Miss Reeves if she went at once into her 
 room,' 
 
 ' She might do so,' said Mr. Gladwell 
 thoughtfully, still pulling at the ends of his 
 moustache ; ^ but is it quite fair to expose 
 Miss Reeves to so trying an ordeal V 
 
 Muriel had already thought that it was 
 hardly fair ; but she was interested now, 
 and willing to be of service. 
 
 * I do not mind — if you wish it,' she 
 replied. 
 
 * My sister-in-law is insane, you are aware, 
 Miss Reeves,' said Mr. Gladwell. ' She is 
 hopelessly insane.' 
 
 * Yes, I suppose so. But she is not 
 violent V 
 
 ' Oh no ! It is a sad case of melancholia,
 
 76 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 and it has lasted some years/ replied Mrs. 
 Gladwell ; ^ but she is not in any way 
 dangerous, we are happy to say. And if 
 you would, to oblige us, step upstairs, and 
 ask a question or two — if you would, indeed, 
 act in any way that appears most natural to 
 yourself, and would appear so to an invalid 
 — we shall be considerably indebted to you/ 
 
 ' Now V 
 
 ' The sooner the better, so as to prepare 
 us for any change in Mrs. Faremouth that 
 seems likely to occur. A change for the 
 better, I trust/ Mr. Gladwell added ; but 
 Muriel detected no small amount of acting 
 in the eyes so sadly upturned to the 
 ceiling. 
 
 It occurred to her at this juncture that 
 she did not like Mr. Gladwell so well as she 
 liked his wife, which was an odd impression, 
 considering the breezy morning she had spent
 
 MORE SURPRISES 77 
 
 with the lady in question. What there was 
 to object to in Mr. Glad well it was beyond 
 her power to define. He was suave, cour- 
 teous, anxious to render her stay at Rossen- 
 dale agreeable. He would neither be a harsh 
 taskmaster nor an exacting individual. He 
 was probably a good-tempered man, possibly 
 an amiable one, but there came across her 
 mind the assurance that she did not admire 
 him, and that she should not care to trust 
 him. An unjust decision, but she could not 
 help it, or explain why it had thus impressed 
 her so suddenly and thoroughly. 
 
 ^ If you would only go to her. Miss 
 Reeves,' said Mrs. Gladwell, still with her 
 hands clasped together, ' and relieve us from 
 anxiety.' 
 
 * What can I say to Mrs. Faremouth ? 
 How shall I be able to offer a reason for my 
 intrusion upon her V
 
 78 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 * Oh, she is used to us — to the servants — 
 coming into her room at various times. You 
 will not surprise her.' 
 
 ' Shall I offer to sit with her for a short 
 time — ask if she has any objection to my 
 company V 
 
 ' Yes/ said Mr. Glad well ; ' say we are 
 both out, and that you feel dull down here 
 alone.' 
 
 ^ No, I shall not say that,' replied Muriel 
 quickly. 
 
 ^ Why not ?' 
 
 ' It is not the truth.' 
 
 ' Oh, the truth !' cried Mr. Gladwell 
 scoffingly. ^ One does not get on in the 
 world by sticking to the truth, Miss 
 Reeves.' 
 
 ' Then one is better out of the world,' was 
 the sharp response. 
 
 ' You will not think so when you are a few
 
 MORE SURPRISES 79 
 
 years older, young lady/ he answered ; ^ but 
 you may adopt your own course. We are 
 only anxious to learn the truth in this 
 case.' 
 
 * I will go.' 
 
 Muriel Reeves was out of the room before 
 another word could be exchanged. As the 
 door closed behind her, husband and wife 
 looked at each other very intently, very 
 critically. 
 
 ' She is sharp, that companion of yours,' 
 muttered Mr. Gladwell. ' Too sharp alto- 
 gether.' 
 
 ' But is it possible that Gertrude has 
 spoken to her V 
 
 ^ It is remarkable, certainly. I will go 
 upstairs in a minute or two and listen at the 
 door.' 
 
 ' To think that her voice has come back 
 to her, James !'
 
 8o THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ' And her senses, eh V 
 
 * I should be very glad.' 
 
 * Ah — yes — exactly. But,' with a sud- 
 den exclamation which startled his listener, 
 ' good God, what will become of us ?'
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN MRS. FAREMOUTH's ROOM. 
 
 It was with a heavy heart that Muriel 
 Reeves went upstairs to Mrs. Faremouth's 
 room. She had accepted a responsibiHty 
 which should not have been forced upon her ; 
 but it had been put as a favour, and she did 
 not know how to say no. She had not been 
 treated well by the lady who had asked the 
 favour even, but there was real distress — 
 real anxiety — and she had willingly offered 
 her services. Perhaps she was a little 
 curious — who knows ? All did not seem 
 fair sailing in the house of Rossendale — 
 
 VOL. I. 6
 
 82 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 there was much to perplex her therein ; 
 strange people in it, strange things happen- 
 ing, strange events foreshadowed. She 
 would not gather to herself the harvest of a 
 quiet life in such a house as this ! She had 
 accepted the task ; but the nearer she ap- 
 proached young Mrs. Faremouth's room, the 
 more she shrank from it. She was taking a 
 part in the mystery, and her place, surely, 
 should have been away from it altogether. 
 What business was it of hers ? What right 
 had she to interfere, and for the sake of 
 people who had treated her contumeliously ? 
 
 But if it were to be done, it were well 
 it should be done quickly. 
 
 She tapped lightly on the panel of the 
 door, but no voice called to her to enter ; 
 all within was as silent as the grave. She 
 knocked a second time without eliciting any- 
 thing in the way of response ; then she
 
 IN MRS. FAREMOUTH'S ROOM 83 
 
 turned the handle, opened the door, and 
 went softly in, a sudden fluttering about the 
 recrion of the chest informino- her that she 
 was not in any wise so free from ' nerves ' 
 and ' palpitations ' as she thought she was. 
 Was Mrs. Glad well's complaint ' catching '? 
 she wondered. 
 
 She closed the door behind her and came 
 to a full stop. The room was very much in 
 shadow ; the brown canvas blinds had been 
 drawn down before the window, either to 
 save the carpet and curtains from the sun's 
 rays or to suit the fancy of Mrs. Fare- 
 mouth. For an instant it seemed that the 
 room was in total darkness, as she shut out 
 the glare of sunlight upon the landing-place ; 
 but Muriel soon became accustoDied to the 
 half-light in which she was submerged ; 
 everything grew by degrees distinct to her 
 gaze.
 
 84 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 It was a large well-furnished sitting-room, 
 communicating with a second room. Sitting 
 in a chair by the fireplace — which was empty 
 and black — was Mrs. Faremouth, judging 
 by the tall form and slight girlish figure. 
 Muriel had no opportunity of seeing her 
 face, which was concealed by a long black 
 silk apron that Mrs. Faremouth had turned 
 up from her waist and throw^n over her head. 
 The lady was sitting in deep shadow, the 
 light being an offence to her as well as the 
 room and everything in it, unless this was 
 an ostrich-like defence against the entrance 
 of a stranger, Mrs. Faremouth seeing nobody 
 by this strategy, and not wishing anyone to 
 see her. It was a mute, statuesque figure 
 sitting there, and sent a feeling of creepiness 
 through the form of Muriel Reeves, but she 
 took a deep breath and said : 
 
 * Good afternoon, Mrs. Faremouth ; I
 
 IN MRS. FAREMOUTH'S ROOM 85 
 
 have come to sit with you for a few minutes, 
 if you have no objection to my company.' 
 
 There was no reply ; the silent figure 
 with the black silk apron over her head did 
 not waver, but the thin white hands, clasped 
 together upon her lap, might have taken 
 an extra degree of tension to themselves ; 
 Muriel thought that they moved, but the 
 next instant she was uncertain if her surmise 
 had been correct. 
 
 After a pause she went on : 
 
 * I am Muriel Reeves, Mrs. Gladwell's 
 companion, to whom you spoke a little while 
 ago. I hope you do not regard my visit as 
 an intrusion. If so, I will go away.' 
 
 Mrs. Faremouth made no response, and 
 Muriel Reeves felt that she was at the end 
 of her resources. There did not seem any- 
 thing more to say : Mrs. Faremouth was not 
 inclined for conversation or for company, and
 
 86 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 there was nothing more to be done save to 
 go downstairs and state that the experiment 
 to extract further speech from her had 
 turned out an absolute failure. 
 
 Muriel stood by the door, put her hand 
 forth towards it, then hesitated again. Per- 
 haps young Mrs. Faremouth was asleep and 
 this was not a fair test, after all. Perhaps 
 Mrs. Faremouth would wake up and look 
 round if she waited a few minutes ; there 
 was no necessity for undue haste, and they 
 were anxious downstairs to learn the truth. 
 It would be good news to take to them that 
 Mrs. Faremouth had spoken to her again — 
 how strange if symptoms of a better estate 
 in this poor invalid should date from the 
 first day of Muriel's stay at Possendale» 
 She, Muriel Reeves, would have brought 
 good luck with her to Great Storn's Head. 
 
 Muriel crossed the room to the fireplace,
 
 IN MRS. FAREMOUTH'S ROOM 87 
 
 looked at herself instinctively in the great 
 looking-glass, and thought how brown she 
 was, and how suddenly sunburnt she had 
 become, until she remembered the drawn 
 blinds and the reflection which they cast 
 upon her, after which her attention was 
 directed to the ornaments upon the mantel- 
 piece, odd Japanese and Indian monstrosities 
 in bronze and porcelain — ugly things every 
 one of them, thought Muriel. 
 
 There were four large photographs, 
 cabinets, in gray plush frames upon the 
 walls, two on each side of the looking-glass, 
 and Muriel was inquisitive enough to inspect 
 them next. The two portraits on the left 
 hand side, and nearer to the silent woman, 
 were well executed photographs of Mr. and 
 Mrs. Gladwell ; flattering enough, with the 
 lines pencilled out and a general air of care- 
 ful manipulation over them, but still fair
 
 88 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 likenesses of the couple downstairs. The 
 portraits on the left, taken in the United 
 States, both of them, were those of a Mrs. 
 Faremouth of happier days, and with a 
 sweet smile flickering round the corners of 
 the mouth, and of a young man, sharp- 
 featured, and with a pointed beard ; rather 
 a good - looking young man, but with 
 eyes popping out of his head, thought 
 Muriel. 
 
 Muriel Reeves gave quite a start when 
 she came to this portrait, and stood regard- 
 ing it with a puzzled air. Where had she 
 seen it before ? It was not the first time 
 that she had looked at that face — at what 
 time and under what circumstances had it 
 presented itself to her observation ? It 
 was almost like the face of a friend : a some- 
 thing that did not make her feel entirely a 
 stranger in that room. Whose face could
 
 IN MRS. FAREMOUTH'S ROOM 89 
 
 it possibly be ? It appertained to a world 
 of her own almost, and yet was hanging up 
 in the house of the Glad wells. Was she 
 getting * dazed ' with all the rest of them in 
 that house ? 
 
 Her new and awakened interest put Mrs. 
 Faremouth from her thoughts for an 
 instant. 
 
 ' I am sure I have seen you before,' she 
 murmured half aloud. ' Ah ! I remember : 
 it is in Em's photographic album at home, 
 or else it ' 
 
 And then she was silent, and amid a 
 crush of bewildering thoughts she tried hard 
 to bring back the face more completely to 
 her recollection. There w^as a story con- 
 nected with that man ; in some way it 
 seemed as if he had crossed her path, or she 
 had seen him on the stage, or mixed up in 
 a crowd somewhere. Was this man an
 
 90 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 actor, singer, musician, or mountebank ? or 
 only one of those celebrities whom reporters 
 interview, and newspapers make paragraphs 
 concerning, a something of a kind that was 
 patent to the new order of illustrated news- 
 papers and magazines ? No, not a celebrity, 
 but someone nearer home and her own life 
 or her sister s, and yet too far away to call 
 to mind. 
 
 She put out her hand towards the portrait, 
 and a voice seemed to say, very close to her 
 ear, and in the quickest of whispers : 
 
 ' Do not touch that !' 
 
 Muriel gave a little jump and turned 
 round, but there was no one in the room 
 save herself and the tall, fair-haired young 
 lady, still sitting very upright and rigid, 
 with her black silk apron covering her face. 
 
 ^ I beg pardon, Mrs. Faremouth ; did 
 you speak to me ?'
 
 IN MRS. FAREMOUTH'S ROOM 91 
 
 There was no answer, and Muriel Reeves 
 beoran to think that she had been the victim 
 of her own disordered fancies ; her nerves 
 were overstrung and inclined to play tricks 
 with her. Still she hazarded one more re- 
 mark on the off chance of having been 
 addressed by Mrs. Faremouth. 
 
 * I am interested in the portrait of this 
 gentleman. I have seen it somewhere, I 
 am sure, before.' 
 
 The wasted hands went up at once to the 
 silk apron and dragged it impetuously from 
 a grave, marble face, from which the blue 
 eyes gleamed strangely. But Mrs. Fare- 
 mouth did not speak to Muriel, who felt 
 cold and uncomfortable beneath the other s 
 searching scrutiny. The lips moved as if 
 they were about to frame the words into a 
 question, then a low, unearthly wail escaped 
 her, and the black silk apron was placed
 
 92 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 over her head again. Mrs. Faremouth had 
 withdrawn once more from public observa- 
 tion, and if she had intended to address the 
 young woman who had intruded upon her 
 retirement she had thought better of it and 
 relapsed into quiescence. 
 
 Muriel felt that to stay longer would be 
 inexcusable ; her mission had been a failure, 
 and there was nothing left her but to go. 
 She had wished to be of assistance, but she 
 felt now, and a blush rose to her face as it 
 occurred to her, that she had acted very 
 much like a spy. If the young, fragile, 
 suffering woman in the chair had mental 
 power sufficient to estimate the intruder at 
 her worth, she would think that a spy, and 
 nothing better than a spy, had stolen to her 
 room for some hidden purpose beyond her 
 poor powers to fathom. 
 
 Muriel went slowly and sorrowfully to the
 
 IN MRS. FAREMOUTH'S ROOM 93 
 
 door, turned the handle, and passed on to the 
 landing-place, where Mr. Gladwell was await- 
 ing her, with his hands in his pockets, his 
 briarwood pipe in his mouth, his face full 
 of aggravating and almost contemptuous 
 smiles. 
 
 ' Well, Miss Reeves,' he said, ' I am 
 afraid your visit to Mrs. Faremouth has not 
 led to a highly satisfactory result.'
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A SURPRISE ON THE SANDS. 
 
 Muriel Reeves was taken aback by dis- 
 covering Mr. Gladwell so close to the door 
 of Mrs. Faremouth's room. She was an- 
 noyed, possibly disgusted, as well as sur- 
 prised. He had been playing the eaves- 
 dropper, and he made no attempt to disguise 
 the part which he had assumed. 
 
 ^ No, the result has not been satisfactory,' 
 she said, in answer to his question. ' Very 
 far from it. Have you been listening V 
 
 * Yes, I have,' he said, unabashed. ' I 
 thought that you would prefer a witness to
 
 A SURPRISE ON THE SANDS 95 
 
 the facts, or that I might be of service to 
 you if anything untoward occurred.' 
 
 ' Was anything untoward Hkely to 
 occur V 
 
 ' It was not wholly improbable.' 
 ' Is she dangerous, after all ? Mrs. Glad- 
 well did not say so.' 
 
 * At times one may say that she is 
 dangerous.' 
 
 ' And yet you and Mrs. Gladwell sent 
 me into danger !' exclaimed Muriel warmly. 
 
 ' Not into danger, surely, if I were close 
 at hand to protect you. Miss Muriel,' he 
 said. 
 
 Muriel hardly liked this introduction of 
 her Christian name into the question. It 
 gave her a shock to be so quickly addressed 
 in familiar terms, but she could scarcely take 
 offence at it. ' . 
 
 * If you were here to protect me from
 
 96 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 violence — if it were necessary to be on 
 guard, Mr. Gladwell, I am obliged by your 
 consideration/ she said. 
 
 He looked at her critically, puffed 
 solemnly at his pipe, and then turned upon 
 his heel to go downstairs. On the top stair 
 he paused as if to allow her to precede 
 him. 
 
 She noticed the movement, and said : 
 
 * Thank you, I am going to my room, 
 unless you think that Mrs. Gladwell is 
 desirous of my company.' 
 
 ' Of course she is anxious to know the 
 result of your experiment.' 
 
 * But I have nothing to tell her.' 
 
 ' Mrs. Faremouth has not spoken, I know ; 
 but I think my wife would prefer your 
 evidence to mine,' he said, with a sli^bA. 
 bow, ' and for the reason that she dc)es not 
 always place entire credence in my version
 
 A SURPRISE ON THE SANDS 97 
 
 of a story. I am unfortunately too imagina- 
 tive for her.' 
 
 He laughed heartily, and seemed to 
 expect that Muriel would laugh too, in 
 which he was disappointed. Muriel Reeves 
 was in no laughing mood just then. 
 
 She went downstairs to inform Mrs. Glad- 
 well that her mission had been a failure — 
 she thought that she would not mention the 
 fugitive impression upon her mind that she 
 had been told not to touch the photograph 
 — and found Mrs. Gladwell lying asleep 
 upon the couch. Mr. Gladwell had followed 
 her, and she glanced from the sleeping 
 figure to him as if for further advice as to 
 the next step. 
 
 * She is tired out, poor woman,' he said. 
 * You need not wait. Miss Reeves ; one of 
 the maids shall tell you when Mrs. Gladwell 
 is awake.' 
 
 VOL. I. 7
 
 98 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 Muriel thanked him and withdrew, and 
 Mr. Gladwell stood and regarded his wife 
 critically. Presently he walked to the 
 window and looked out, sauntered to the 
 front door and looked out, finally made a 
 snatch at his hat from a peg in the hall, 
 and bowled along down the front path into 
 the street, and away towards the town, a 
 man glad of the opportunity to escape * the 
 domesticities,' and in a terrible hurry to get 
 away from them. 
 
 Mr. Gladwell seemed to know, and to be 
 on good terms with, everybody in the place. 
 Neighbours out for a stroll nodded to him 
 familiarly ; the general body of loafers — 
 touts and boatmen and flymen — touched 
 their hats as he came upon parade ; visitors, 
 who were rather thick on the promenade 
 that sunny summer afternoon, regarded him 
 with a friendly gaze, knowing him by sight
 
 A SURPRISE ON THE SANDS 99 
 
 SO well. He walked sharply the whole ex- 
 tent of the parade, and when further away 
 from the company, at the extreme end of the 
 town, with a field behind him full of weeds 
 and piles of new bricks, significant of ' this 
 eligible building site ' about to be appro- 
 priated, he made for the long stretch of sea- 
 sand, threw hiDiself down thereon, re-filled 
 and re-lighted his pipe, and gravely stared 
 out to sea with his face in shadow, and 
 his troublous thoughts settling upon it 
 thickly. 
 
 James Gladwell, at Rossendale, on the 
 pier, on promenade, in society, anywhere or 
 everywhere, was cheerful enough — at times 
 boisterously cheerful — but as we have sus- 
 pected already he had his silent, thoughtful 
 hours, even his bad quarter of an hour, and 
 he had come to this retired part of the 
 beach to think out for himself the few
 
 loo THE WOMAN IN THE DARK i 
 
 I 
 
 matters that were perplexing him, which ] 
 rendered him restless, dissatisfied, and afraid ! 
 Yes, here was something of which he was 
 afraid, for all his position in the world, his 
 general air of respectability, and financial 
 stability, the esteem in which he was held 1 
 by the townsfolk as a man who paid his 
 way, and paid promptly, hence a man to be 
 twice blessed. ] 
 
 But he was in trouble, it was evident. i 
 
 With the sand and sea to himself he was a 
 
 i 
 
 different man entirely ; and it was a face | 
 almost as full of misery as young Mrs. Fare- , 
 
 mouth's that was turned towards the tossing j 
 
 I 
 
 waves. ' 
 
 I 
 
 It was a long, deep think ; and so com- ] 
 
 pletely was he submerged in his own ' brown \ 
 
 study,' that a sailing boat, in which were 1 
 
 two men, tacked and turned, and came 
 swiftly towards his part of the beach with- ]
 
 A SURPRISE ON THE SANDS loi 
 
 out arresting his attention. It came straight 
 in his direction, and was beached within a 
 few yards of him, but he saw it not. It 
 was too common a feature of life at Great 
 Stom's Head to interest him in the least 
 degree. He lay and smoked, and stared at 
 the sea, and thought nothing of the new 
 comers upon the scene. They were every- 
 day figures, and he was scarcely conscious of 
 their existence, until the sail was rapidly 
 lowered, the boat hauled out of reach of the 
 incoming tide, and one of the two men — a 
 slightly formed man of middle height — 
 pitched himself full length upon the sands, 
 tossed his straw hat impatiently away from 
 him, and groaned as one might do who was 
 unutterably fatigued. The second man, 
 who was tall, and of an athletic build, looked 
 down upon the prostrate figure of his com- 
 panion, and laughed.
 
 102 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ' What, tired, Claude, already V 
 
 ' Yes, I am awfully tired, Oliver.' 
 
 ' The sea should have blown more life into 
 
 you.' 
 
 * It seems to have blown the life out of 
 me,' said the other wearily ; ^ and as the 
 life is not worth anything, so much the 
 better.' 
 
 ' Ah, we won't go into that question again, 
 old man,' replied Oliver Toope, for he it was 
 who dropped into a sitting position by the 
 recumbent form of his friend. ' You're in 
 one of your maudlin moods, and they always 
 aggravate me.' 
 
 ' You began questioning and cross-ques- 
 tioning, not I,' said the elder man tetchily ; 
 ' let me be for a while, and I shall be all 
 right.' 
 
 ' Do you feel ill V 
 
 ^ No.'
 
 A SURPRISE ON THE SANDS 103 
 
 * Has anything occurred to disturb you V 
 
 * Nothing. It's only one of my " dull 
 days," Oliver. You should be pretty well 
 used to them by this time.' 
 
 ' Oh, I am quite used to them,' was the 
 reply ; ' don't apologise.' 
 
 Both men became silent, and the younger 
 and stronger, finding there was nothing 
 particular to do, turned round and looked 
 towards James Glad well, who was some 
 twenty yards away from them, on a higher 
 elevation of the beach. It was this James 
 Gladwell, who, with his hands clutching his 
 knees, was now sitting up and regarding 
 the new comers, his eyes protruding with 
 amazement, his mouth half open, his pipe 
 lying neglected by his side. Had some one 
 whom he had known years ago, who had 
 died and been buried, risen up from the 
 dead, and stood before him in his grave-
 
 I04 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 clothes, James Gladwell's countenance could 
 not have expressed a greater horror. 
 
 ' Here ! It is true then, every word 
 of it. My God !' he muttered to him- 
 self. 
 
 Before James Gladwell could assume a 
 calm demeanour the young man rose and 
 came towards him. His heart sank as the 
 stranger approached, but he made no eflfort 
 to move. He felt as though he had been 
 struck into stone, and that this was an in- 
 exorable fate advancing. His eyes wandered 
 for a fleeting instant to the form of the 
 other man stretched full length upon the 
 sand, and he soliloquised again : 
 
 ' Why did I come this way ? Why did 
 they land here V 
 
 Oliver Toope, unaware of the efiect his 
 disembarkation had created, and only think- 
 ing that the gentleman whom he was ap-
 
 A SURPRISE ON THE SANDS 105 
 
 preaching looked very like a crazy individual, 
 said : 
 
 ' I beg your pardon, could you oblige me 
 with a light ? My vesuvians have come 
 suddenly to an end.' 
 
 James Gladwell drew from his pocket a 
 silver match-box and passed it over to the 
 speaker without uttering a word. 
 
 * Thank you/ said Oliver, lighting his 
 pipe after the usual preliminaries ; ' greatly 
 obliged. A fine day, is it not ?' he added, as 
 a highly original observation to wind up with. 
 "Tames Gladwell nodded and tried to reply, 
 but his tongue had stuck to the roof of his 
 mouth in his consternation. 
 
 Oliver returned the match-box, and looked 
 almost admiringly at the Gladwell scarf-pin 
 — a big pearl scored accurately like a globe 
 — and then scuttled down the slope to the 
 side of his companion.
 
 io6 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 * I fancy, Claude, that fellow behind us is 
 next door to a lunatic,' he said ; ' only he's 
 got a breast-pin worth a cool hundred, and 
 they couldn't have let him out with that on 
 his chest.' 
 
 But Claude had fallen asleep already, and 
 tired and worn out he looked in his sleep. 
 Oliver regarded his friend attentively for a 
 moment, shook his head, and then sat down 
 again and surveyed his own sailing-boat 
 critically. 
 
 A minute or two afterwards, not longer, 
 he turned round with the intention of 
 bestowing another glance at Mr. Gladwell, 
 but that gentleman was gone. Oliver 
 looked right and left, and beheld him some 
 distance away, making a cross-cut towards 
 the parade, and evidently in a great hurry 
 to get home. 
 
 * Soft. Must be,' said Oliver.
 
 A SURPRISE ON THE SANDS 107 
 
 Suddenly his quick eye detected a plush 
 tobacco-pouch on the spot where Mr. Glad- 
 well had sat, and Oliver on the instant was 
 upon his feet again making for it, securing 
 it, and then running after the gentleman 
 who had been so careless regarding his 
 worldly possessions. 
 
 James Gladwell looked round at that 
 moment, and becoming aware of the ap- 
 proaching figure, he broke into a run him- 
 self, as if by instinct. 
 
 ' Oh yes, mad as a hatter,' said Oliver, 
 who increased his own rate of progression in 
 order to come up with him. 
 
 The next instant James Gladwell stopped. 
 The folly of making a race of it had struck 
 him, and he waited for Oliver Toope to 
 come up. 
 
 * Well, sir, what next V he asked sharply. 
 
 * Oh, not much — pray do not excite your-
 
 io8 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 self/ was the blunt response. ' You have 
 left your tobacco-pouch on the sands, and I 
 thought you might like to take it home 
 with you. Catch.' 
 
 But Oliver Toope did not fling the pouch 
 towards Mr. Gladwell, who had already 
 opened his hands instinctively. The name 
 of * J. Gladwell ' meandering across it in a 
 thin line of gold cord had arrested Oliver's 
 attention, and taken away his breath in his 
 turn. 
 
 ' By thunder !' he exclaimed ; * that's 
 curious. Gladwell ! Is your name Glad- 
 well, then ?' 
 
 ' That is my name,' said Mr. Gladwell, 
 who had advanced and snatched the pouch 
 from Oliver's hands ; but Oliver did not 
 offer a remark on the rudeness of the action. 
 ' What of it ? What if it is ?' 
 
 * Do you live at Rossendale V
 
 A SURPRISE ON THE SANDS 109 
 
 Mr. Gladwell gasped painfully, but he 
 managed to growl forth : 
 
 ^ What business is that of yours, sir V 
 
 ' A Miss Muriel Reeves is your wife's 
 companion, lady-help, maid-of-all-work, or 
 something for which she is utterly unfitted, 
 as I have told her already. Is that cor- 
 rect V said Oliver Toope, very sharply in 
 his turn. 
 
 James Gladwell had thought it impos- 
 sible to be still more astonished, but he 
 was. What had Muriel Reeves to do with 
 those two men, unless she was in his house 
 by some strange chain of circumstances, by 
 an elaborate plot, as a spy ? — and yet that 
 could not be. No, his natural shrewdness 
 told him, in a second hasty thought, that 
 that was impossible. But he was be- 
 wildered ; it was all so strange, so long a 
 distance out of the common way.
 
 no THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ' Why do you ask V 
 
 ' Miss Reeves is a friend of mine — I 
 think of calling upon her this evening/ 
 
 * Miss Reeves is in close attendance upon 
 my wife, an invalid lady, and can see no 
 followers whilst in our employ.' 
 
 ' She'll see me,' said Oliver, nodding his 
 head emphatically. ^ Don't make any mis- 
 take about that. I have told Mrs. Glad- 
 well so already.' 
 
 ' You have — you But I don't 
 
 want any further conversation with you, 
 sir. I will not have it.' 
 
 * All right !' was the reply. * Thank 
 you very much for taking back your 
 tobacco-pouch, though. So glad you did 
 not lose it, Mr. Gladwell. Good after- 
 noon.' 
 
 Oliver Toope, who had a keen sense of 
 humour, took off his hat and made Mr.
 
 A SURPRISE ON THE SANDS iii 
 
 Gladwell a low obeisance — quite an Eastern 
 kind of salaam ; and Mr. Gladwell, redden- 
 ing for the first time, gave a stiff half-bow 
 in return, and then turned his back upon 
 Mr. Toope, who looked after him for a 
 while before he burst into a roar of 
 lauorhter. 
 
 ^ As bad as the missus,' he remarked. 
 * Well, of all the — upon my soul,' he ex- 
 claimed, darting off in a fresh direction of 
 thought, 'if Muriel has not got amongst 
 a nice set of snapping crocodiles ! What a 
 pair to put up with ! But it shan't last. 
 No, by Jove ! not for a week, if I have 
 any voice in the matter, and I think I 
 have. Ha, ha ! T think I have, after 
 all!'
 
 CHAPTER VIII, 
 
 SAFE AT HOME. 
 
 Mr. Gladwell went on his way like a man 
 in a dream. If he had awakened in his 
 own dining-room from one of his disturbed 
 sleeps in his easy-chair — after a habit he 
 had — he would not have been in the least 
 surprised. He would have even said, 
 ' Thank God !' But it was not a dream, 
 although all that had happened had been 
 as unreal and extraordinary as are all 
 dream incidents after heavy meals — this 
 was true. Here were phantoms from the 
 past, but they were alive and ready to
 
 SAFE AT HOME 113 
 
 work mischief ; to bring ruin and shame 
 to him, to face him with the great mis- 
 deeds of his life. And they were not to be 
 exorcised ; they must come and confront 
 him, and Lavinia, and Lavinia's mad sister ; 
 and there did not seem the possibility of 
 escape from the complications which were 
 rising up before him, which were enmesh- 
 ing him already. It could not be chance 
 that had brought those two men to Great 
 Storn's Head — no coincidence could be so 
 remarkable as that — it was a plot against 
 him. He had been found out, and the 
 revelation was at hand. He had fought 
 and struggled and lied and schemed in vain. 
 This was the end of it ! 
 
 He passed the time between his return 
 home and the dinner-hour in his bedroom, 
 sitting on the floor, with the door of his 
 iron safe open, and various papers which 
 
 VOL. I. 8
 
 1X4 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 he had taken from it strewn upon the 
 carpet. These papers he arranged syste- 
 matically, and returned to the safe before 
 Mrs. Gladwell came upstairs to harass him 
 with questions. 
 
 To Mrs. Gladwell he detailed the par- 
 ticulars of his chance meeting with Oliver 
 Toope, of the tobacco-pouch incident, and of 
 the inquiries as to his name ; but he said not 
 a word of the second man, who had been 
 called Claude by his companion, and whose 
 appearance on the sands had filled his soul 
 with consternation. He would await events 
 — he would be even prepared to elude them, 
 carrying with him those papers which he 
 had put in order that afternoon ; but he 
 would not distress Lavinia by any of his 
 fears until the hour and the man were 
 closer to them. Supposing this was only 
 a striking likeness after all ? Ten years
 
 SAFE AT HOME 115 
 
 had gone by, and the man would not look 
 like that now ; he would have changed 
 had he been alive — even for him to be 
 alive would be akin to the miraculous. 
 And if alive, what then ? What was to 
 happen afterwards ? What would the man 
 say ? What would he and Lavinia do in 
 self-defence ? 
 
 These thoughts did not trouble Mr. 
 Gladwell at dinner-time. He had had time 
 to recover, and he was his usual self before 
 Muriel Reeves and his wife. The day 
 had been full of surprises. The informa- 
 tion proffered early in the day that Mrs. 
 Faremouth had spoken to Muriel Reeves 
 had been startling, and almost, to the Glad- 
 wells, alarming news ; but it had for the 
 time passed into the background of every- 
 body's thoughts. The afternoon experiment 
 with the lady above-stairs had been a failure,
 
 ii6 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 and now the question of Oliver Toope had 
 presented itself, and had to be considered. 
 
 Muriel was surprised at dinner by the 
 introduction of his name, and still more by 
 the new manner of host and hostess, which 
 was conciliatory and almost kind. 
 
 ' Mrs. Gladwell and I have been talking 
 upstairs, Miss Muriel, of your friend, 
 Mr. Toope,' said Mr. Gladwell, somewhat 
 pompously, and with a smile which Muriel 
 did not know how to construe. ' Of course, 
 it is awkward and remarkable that he 
 should have come to Great Storn's Head, 
 although it is a well-known watering-place 
 enough, and that I should have met him 
 on the sands this afternoon.' 
 
 ^ You have seen him also, Mr. Gladwell V 
 
 * Yes, I will explain in a minute or two ; 
 but what Mrs. Gladwell and I have decided 
 upon with reference to that gentleman and
 
 SAFE AT HOME 117 
 
 you it may be as well to inform you at 
 once/ he said. 
 
 Muriel inclined her head, and waited 
 patiently for the information, quite pre- 
 pared to fire up if anything disparaging 
 were said concerning Oliver Toope, or her 
 relations with him. But the next remark 
 from Mr. Gladwell — who did all the talk- 
 ing, although there were signs of Mrs. 
 Gladwell being very anxious to cut in — 
 wholly changed the condition of affairs. 
 
 ' Mrs. Gladwell and I have arrived at 
 the conclusion that it would be only fair 
 to you that you should see Mr. Toope,' 
 Mr. Gladwell continued in his oratorical 
 way ; * and we wish you to understand that 
 we should be happy to assist you in every 
 way in our power. Mr. Toope will probably 
 call this evening — I think he told me that 
 that was his intention — and my little study
 
 ii8 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 is quite at your disposal for half an hour, 
 or an hour, should he feel disposed to keep 
 his word/ 
 
 ' Oh he always keeps his word,' said 
 Muriel quickly. ' He is very truthful/ 
 
 Mr. Gladwell laughed. 
 
 ^ Thank you for the concession,' she 
 added. ' I am afraid I have innocently 
 been the cause of annoyance to you both, 
 but, of course, I have no wish that Mr. 
 Toope should intrude here more than once. 
 We have not met for ten months, and I 
 — I think that he is anxious to clear up 
 a little misunderstanding which has existed 
 between us. I do not know for certain,' 
 she said, blushing very vigorously as two 
 pairs of eyes were fixed upon her, ' but I 
 — I think that is the object with which 
 he is coming. After that he will leave 
 here immediately.'
 
 SAFE AT HOME 119 
 
 ' Leave here V 
 
 ^ It Tvill be my wish, for a while,' she 
 said thoughtfully. 
 
 ' And will he obey your wishes implicitly, 
 Miss Muriel ?' 
 
 ' I think he will — I'm sure he will,' she 
 added. 
 
 Mr. Glad well drew a deep breath of 
 relief, but he was deeply perplexed. Was 
 it a mistake altogether ? People whose 
 lives have been in shadow — lives with 
 curtains before them — are so easily scared 
 and jump to strange conclusions. 
 
 * Is Mr. Toope alone at Great Storn s 
 Head?' he asked. 
 
 ' I do not know. It is more than 
 probable/ 
 
 * May I ask what he is by trade or pro- 
 fession ?' inquired Mrs. Gladwell. 
 
 * An engineer, madam.'
 
 I20 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 * Indeed. He is singularly abrupt even 
 for an engineer, I should say/ 
 
 ' He is a little abrupt/ said Muriel, who 
 found some difficulty in keeping a smile 
 back. ' He used to offend a great many 
 of his clients when he was in business 
 for himself in a little way in Lambeth, 
 but on board ship he is liked very 
 much.' 
 
 ' I should not have thought it,' remarked 
 Mrs. Gladwell. ^ Is he clever V 
 
 ^ No, madam, I don't think he is clever,' 
 was the frank response, ^ and he does not 
 think so himself 
 
 Mr. Gladwell laughed again, and very 
 heartily, at this avowal, and Mrs. Glad- 
 well thought her lord and husband had 
 taken too much champagne to make such 
 a noise as that and jar her nerves so 
 unnecessarily ; but she made no comment.
 
 SAFE AT HOME 121 
 
 She turned to Muriel with a question of 
 her own. 
 
 * You are engaged to him, I presume ?' 
 
 * I was engaged to him some time ago, 
 Mrs. GladwelL' 
 
 ^ You quarrelled V 
 'Yes: 
 
 * And this is to be — reconciliation V she 
 asked curiously. 
 
 * I — I can t say,' was the low reply. 
 
 ' My dear Lavinia,' said Mr. Gladwell, 
 * I don't think we have quite a right to 
 put all these leading questions to Miss 
 Muriel. It is, upon my word, hardly fair.' 
 
 ' I ask too many questions, I know,' said 
 Mrs. Gladwell ; ' I do not always get 
 answered, though. You have not told me 
 where you . went this morning at half-past 
 five, James. What is the secret V 
 
 ' My dear, there is no secret about it.'
 
 122 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 The maid entered with two cards upon 
 a silver salver, and went to the side of 
 Muriel, who took them from the tray and 
 read aloud : 
 
 ' Mr. Oliver Toope. Mr. Claude Fare- 
 mouth. '
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MAKING IT UP. 
 
 Muriel Reeves felt herself grow hot and 
 cold by turns as she sat with the two cards 
 in her hand, staring almost helplessly before 
 her, for the effect upon Mr. and Mrs. 
 Gladwell of the arrival of the visitors was 
 too surprising to be overlooked. Mrs. Glad- 
 well sat back in a half-faint, with her eyes 
 closed, whilst her husband sprang from his 
 chair, sat down again, breathed hard, and 
 pressed one hand across his forehead. 
 
 * Paremouth !' repeated Muriel, wondering. 
 ^ That is another coincidence, of course.'
 
 124 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ' Of course — of course — it is not an un- 
 common name,' said Mr. Gladwell, stammer- 
 ing very much ; ' but it is unfair of Mr. 
 Toope to bring a friend with him. I cannot 
 see the necessity ; I don't know why he 
 should have committed such an outrageous 
 breach of propriety — it is beyond my com- 
 prehension altogether.' 
 
 There was a forced indignation in his 
 tones, but much bodily prostration in his 
 attitude. 
 
 ' James, if it is ' began his wife, when 
 
 her husband, who had lost his usual dulcet 
 tone of address to her, shouted vehemently, 
 and brought her to a full stop. 
 
 * Lavinia, do not interfere !' he cried. 
 ' Let Miss Reeves join her friends. I trust 
 you understand. Miss Reeves, we both 
 wish it.' 
 
 * Yes, if I am capable of understanding
 
 MAKING IT UP 125 
 
 anything now, I think you do/ was the dry 
 
 response. ^ So if you will excuse me ' 
 
 and Muriel rose. 
 
 Husband and wife were only too glad to 
 grant permission for Muriel Reeves's with- 
 drawal. 
 
 As the door closed Mrs. Gladwell ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 ' What does it all mean, James ? Could 
 you have been prepared for this V 
 
 * Xo, not for this/ he answered, with a 
 visible shudder ; ' not so soon as this. God 
 help us !' 
 
 ' It is Claude Faremouth, then V 
 
 ^ It is.' 
 
 ' You knew he was at Great Storn's 
 Head V 
 
 Mr. Gladwell nodded. 
 
 ' What is to be done V she asked in a 
 husky whisper.
 
 126 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 * I don't know,' he answered. 
 ' Not know V 
 
 ' We must wait events. He may not — 
 I say, he may not know that we are 
 here.' 
 
 ^ He and that man Toope have been in 
 search of us, and now they are in the house 1' 
 shrieked Mrs. Gladwell in accents of despair. 
 
 ' Hush ! Don't get excited. We can 
 only wait. There is no alternative.' 
 
 This strange couple were attached to one 
 another, had faith in one another, took 
 courage by one another's side, weak as both 
 of them were. 
 
 James Gladwell crossed to the chair close 
 to his wife and took her hand in his, and 
 thus they sat hand in hand as lovers might 
 have done, and the maid coming in later on 
 gave a little jump to find them thus. 
 
 * Are those gentlemen still in my study,
 
 MAKING IT UP 127 
 
 Mary, with Miss Reeves V asked Mr. 
 Gladwell. 
 
 ' The tall, dark gentleman is.' 
 
 ' And the other — where is he V asked 
 Mr. Gladwell, with a vehemence which led 
 Mary, who was a nervous girl, to back 
 herself against the wall and glare open- 
 mouthed at her master. 
 
 * He did not stop a minute, sir.' 
 
 * Are you sure ?' 
 ' Quite sure.' 
 
 ' I did not hear the door close.' 
 ' It was open. I was standing at the 
 door, sir, when the thin gentleman came 
 out and walked past me into the street, 
 sir.' 
 
 * He has gone!' husband and wife ex- 
 claimed together when the servant had 
 retired ; and they took his departure as a 
 good omen, although an instant afterwards
 
 128 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 James Gladwell struck his hand impatiently 
 upon the table. 
 
 ^ I cannot make it out !' he said. 
 
 But the explanation of the sudden de- 
 parture of Claude Faremouth was simple 
 enouofh. When Muriel had entered the 
 study of Mr. Gladwell, she found both 
 gentlemen standing on the hearthrug waiting 
 for her appearance. Oliver Toope advanced 
 and shook hands. 
 
 * I told you I should come,' he said, with 
 a laugh. ' Neither master nor mistress has 
 frightened me away, Muriel.' 
 
 ' Mr. Gladwell has been kind enough to 
 place his study at our disposal for a little 
 while.' 
 
 ' Mr. Gladwell is in a better temper than 
 he was this afternoon,' remarked Oliver 
 quietly ; ' but you will allow me, Muriel, to 
 introduce to you an American friend of mine.
 
 MAKING IT UP 129 
 
 I have spoken of him to you before, I 
 think — Mr. Faremouth. Mr. Faremouth, 
 this is Muriel Reeves. I have spoken of 
 her to you, I know/ 
 
 It was an odd introduction, and Mr. 
 Faremouth seemed embarrassed. He bowed, 
 and stammered forth a few conventional 
 words, of which ' great pleasure ' were the 
 only two that were decently articulate, and 
 then he looked in a shy, nervous manner 
 at his friend. He was a quick, restless- 
 eyed man, not without good looks of his 
 own. 
 
 * Yes, you may go now,' Oliver said, with 
 a laugh. ^ I am perfectly safe. I am in 
 good hands.' 
 
 * Yes, I am certain of that.' 
 
 Mr. Claude Faremouth made a formal 
 bow and took his departure. The servant- 
 maid was standing at the open door getting 
 
 VOL. I. 9
 
 I30 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 a mouthful of fresh air surreptitiously, or 
 looking out for a lover in the shoemaking 
 trade, who generally passed from his daily 
 labours at this time, and went home in a 
 more happy frame of mind if he caught a 
 glimpse of her at the door or window, and 
 Mr« Faremouth, with another bow, passed 
 out of the house, turned when he was in 
 the front garden, looked up at all the 
 windows, and then sauntered along the road 
 towards the sea-front. 
 
 Muriel had already turned to her remain- 
 ing visitor, and said impetuously : 
 
 * Ohver, who is he V 
 
 * Who is he V repeated Oliver, taken aback 
 by Muriel's excitement. ' Oh, a weak- 
 headed, good sort of a fellow enough ; one of 
 the unlucky beggars of this world with a 
 warm heart and a tile loose.' 
 
 * How long have you known him V
 
 MAKING IT UP 131 
 
 * Three years or so/ v 
 
 * And his name is Faremouth V 
 
 * Yes. What of that V he asked. ' Bless 
 my soul, Muriel, I have not fought my way 
 into the Gladwell's den to talk of Claude 
 Faremouth/ 
 
 ^ No ; but it is so singular/ 
 
 * What is so singular V 
 
 Muriel hesitated. She felt that she was 
 on the threshold of a revelation, and she 
 became suddenly and strangely afraid to 
 approach it too rashly. There was an in- 
 stinctive feeling that harm might come of 
 it, that a rash word might bring about much 
 trouble, tnat it would be wise and just of 
 her to hold her peace until she had time to 
 shape her thoughts more clearly. This 
 Claude Faremouth was an older likeness of 
 the portrait which hung upstairs in the 
 silent woman's room — the same sharp eyes
 
 132 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 and thin cheeks, with a pointed beard like 
 Guy Fawkes. 
 
 ^ Singular,' said Muriel slowly, ' because 
 I have seen — somewhere — a photograph of 
 him.' 
 
 ' Oh yes, I know,' Oliver replied quickly. 
 ' When I was in the States eighteen months 
 ago I sent you over a photo of a group of 
 boating men — winners of the Scallywag 
 Cup — and Faremouth and I were standing 
 in the centre of the gang. Don't you 
 remember V 
 
 ^ Yes, I remember,' said Muriel. 
 
 It was the face in that group which had 
 come partly to her mind when she was 
 looking at Claude Faremouth's portrait on 
 the wall of the room upstairs. A younger 
 portrait, but of the same man surely. 
 
 ^ How did you become acquainted with 
 him?'
 
 MAKING IT UP 133 
 
 * I met hiui first on board ship. Don't 
 you admire him V 
 
 ^ He is a strange -looking man/ said 
 Muriel evasively ; ' sl man who might be 
 any age. Has he a father or mother 
 living V 
 
 'No.' 
 
 ' A wife V 
 
 ' His wife is alive. But he does not care 
 to talk of her/ Oliver added, ' for some 
 reason or other which is not particularly 
 clear to me. They are separated — that is 
 about all I know. Any more questions 
 concerning this gentleman V he inquired, with 
 a half-frown. 
 
 ' Yes, plenty,' was the sharp response. 
 * Don't look black at me. What is he doinof 
 at Great Storn's Head V 
 
 ' We are coasting together. We are going 
 round Wales,' was the reply. ' I am enjoying
 
 134 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 the first holiday I have had for years — the 
 first chance of a holiday/ 
 
 ^ Have you come into a fortune, Oliver V 
 
 * No ; I am simply pitching my small 
 savings away in the fashion which is natural 
 to me now/ 
 
 ' Now '/ 
 
 ^ I have no one to save for, nothing to 
 prepare for. Everything is a blank since you 
 gave me up for good,' he replied ruefully. 
 
 ' For your good.' 
 
 * What do you mean by that V 
 
 ' You get on so much better without me, so 
 it must be for your good, Oliver. I always 
 thought,' she added demurely, ^ that you 
 would get on so well in the world if you were 
 not tied to me.' 
 
 ' Don't talk such utter absurdity, Muriel,' 
 he cried passionately. ' You know, as well 
 as I do, that — that I haven't known a happy
 
 MAKING IT UP 135 
 
 moment since you said you would not have 
 anything more to do with me — since you 
 threw me over Hke an old ' 
 
 * Like an old fool,' said Muriel, ' to fly 
 into one of your wretched tempers about — 
 what was it about, Xoll V 
 
 Oliver Toope looked puzzled, and even for 
 an instant gave one claw-like scratch at his 
 thick head of hair. 
 
 ' I don't exactly remember on the instant 
 what we had a few words about. That red- 
 nosed grocer, wasn't it, who sent you and 
 Em orders for the Adelphi upper boxes ? 
 Confound his impudence, and his upper 
 boxes, too !' he cried. ^ It was only done to 
 annoy me. It ' 
 
 * That'll do, Noll,' said Muriel, with 
 severity ; ' we have discussed that silly 
 question before, with a bad language ac- 
 companiment, too.'
 
 136 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ' I beg pardon — humbly. Yes, so we 
 have. I am a fool. Don't mind me, Muriel, 
 for mercy's sake !' he said. ' I have only 
 come to-night to ask if — if we can't go on as 
 we did before — you and I, who suit each 
 other so nicely.' 
 
 ' Why, we were always quarrelling.' 
 
 * All my fault — my confounded temper. I 
 own it. Peccavi !' 
 
 * And you have come to-night to ask for- 
 giveness ?' 
 
 ^Yes; 
 
 * Why have you been so long making up 
 your mind that you needed it V 
 
 ' Didn't I go to sea again — in a tiff V 
 ' After all your talk of setting up a busi- 
 ness in the Lambeth Road/ 
 
 * I v/aited for you to ask forgiveness — 
 and you didn't,' he said frankly. 
 
 The two looked at each other, and broke
 
 MAKING IT UP 137 
 
 into a merry peal of laughter, which rang 
 out strangely in that house of shadows. 
 Their hands were clasped and lips pressed, 
 and there were happy tears in Muriel's eyes. 
 Here was the old sweetheart back again, 
 just as he had always been, with once more 
 — perhaps for ever this time, and at all 
 events for the next twenty-four hours — 
 never a shadow between them. Melpomene 
 gathered up her trailing black skirts and 
 glided out of the room like an offended 
 phantom, and Thalia danced noiselessly in 
 the background and showered ethereal 
 flowers and sprays of radiant blossoms on 
 their heads. It had been a long, long 
 difference, but the making of it up w^as very 
 pleasant. The troubles of the Gladwells 
 faded away from Muriel's mind into the 
 mists beyond — very naturally, too, for what 
 were the Gladwells to this bright little
 
 138 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 woman from Kennington Lane ? She would 
 not have known them twenty-four hours till 
 8.45 p.m., and Noll Toope she had known 
 all her life, and loved the greater part of it, 
 for all his jealous fits and his bad tempers 
 which followed the fits. Well, jealousy as 
 well as pity is akin to love, and the man who 
 is never jealous — ah, fair reader, beware of 
 him ! 
 
 Before Oliver Toope went away that night 
 — and Muriel dismissed him as speedily as 
 she possibly could — all had been forgotten 
 and forgiven, and the world was very bright 
 again for this high-spirited couple. There 
 was a great deal to say before the lovers 
 parted, but we can close the door softly, 
 steal out on tiptoe, and leave them to say it 
 by themselves.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 ON THE PARADE 
 
 Oliver Toope left Rossendale with a joyous 
 heart. It was settled — it was all fair sail- 
 ing ; he and Muriel Reeves understood each 
 other once more, were once more engaged to 
 be married. He passed through the front 
 gate singing to himself, and went along the 
 road towards the town with his head thrown 
 back and his chest thrown out as proud as a 
 peacock. The night had deepened, and the 
 stars and the moon were shining. He had 
 not got far from the house when his quick 
 ears heard a door open, and he came at once
 
 I40 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 to a full stop. Muriel might have some- 
 thing more to say, a fresh injunction to 
 deliver, another promise to extort from him, 
 and he was only too happy to oblige her. 
 Anything for another five minutes' chat with 
 her before he kept his word and went away 
 from Great Storn's Head next day. He 
 stepped into the middle of the road, the 
 better to take in the curve of the various 
 villas clustered under the shadow of the 
 Storn, and he knew that the door of Rossen- 
 dale was open again by the light which 
 streamed out across the grass plat. 
 
 * She has remembered something — 
 
 she ' 
 
 He made two or three steps towards the 
 house, then he came to a full stop. It was 
 not Muriel who was standing at the gate, 
 but a man's figure with a felt hat on his 
 head — Mr. Gladwell doubtless, for the man
 
 ON THE PARADE 141 
 
 was smoking, and some sparks from his pipe 
 were scurrying like fireflies across the dark- 
 ness. Mr. Gladwell was making sure of his 
 unwelcome visitor s departure. 
 
 Oliver went back to the footpath and 
 sauntered on leisurely. Presently he lighted 
 his own pipe, standing under a gas-lamp to 
 do it, and then walked on in a loose-limbed, 
 slouching fashion, which was peculiar to him 
 when he was in no particular hurry. Coming 
 suddenly to a full stop beneath the lamp, as 
 he had done, he had heard footsteps behind 
 him on the pathway, but they stopped almost 
 as soon as he stopped. He looked behind 
 him, and fancied that a man was standing in 
 the shadow close by the trees which were 
 growing above the fence of a villa some fifty 
 paces from him, but he was not certain. It 
 was very probable that Mr. Gladwell had 
 set himself the task of watching him — was
 
 142 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 anxious to make sure of his next step, or 
 where he was lodging, or had some other 
 reason for following him, which did not 
 suggest itself to Oliver immediately. Mr. 
 Gladwell was evidently a curious man, and 
 had not a high opinion of Oliver Toope. 
 Very well, just as Mr. Gladwell wished — it 
 did not matter to him in the least — but he 
 should be very glad when Muriel had got 
 back to London, and was free of that ob- 
 jectionable post at Rossendale. To think 
 that she had been obliged to leave home — to 
 do ^ something for herself — since he and she 
 had been foolish enough to have a few words 
 about a grocer — a red-nosed grocer, too-^ 
 who had had his eye on Muriel ever since he 
 had met her at a picnic, and was a widower 
 with one child and a business at Camberwell, 
 which included wines and bottled beers, and 
 had lately branched out into pears — Jersey
 
 ON THE PARADE 143 
 
 pears, five for a shilling. Confound the 
 fellow's impudence, to think that he was 
 good enough for Muriel just because he had 
 a shop of his own, and was doing well in it ! 
 Muriel, the little lady, the beauty of Ken- 
 nington Lane, the cleverest of a clever family, 
 that had not been clever enough, however, 
 to keep its head above water. Muriel, who 
 — but, he thought suddenly again, for what 
 reason upon earth was Muriel's master i^ro 
 tern, following him about as though he were 
 a thief? 
 
 He was sure now that he was beinof fol- 
 lowed by Mr. Gladwell ; he had looked back 
 and caught the side-face under the light of 
 a street-lamp the gentleman was passing, 
 and it was the good-looking, sullen face of 
 the man who could not take care of his own 
 tobacco - pouch for five minutes. What 
 the And then Oliver Toope's thoughts
 
 144 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 were disturbed and diverted into a fresh 
 channel by the appearance of Claude Fare- 
 mouth at his side. 
 
 ' Halloa, Claude ! where have you sprung 
 from V 
 
 ' I have been waiting for you here.* 
 
 * Here ' was the parade, which Oliver 
 Toope had reached at last, and where Claude 
 Faremouth, whom he had utterly forgotten 
 for the nonce, was lying in ambush for him 
 — a parade with a great many stragglers 
 upon it this hot summer evening, for the 
 night was fine, the moon was bright, the 
 pier concert was still going on in the pavilion, 
 where the electric lights were flaring forth, 
 and there were the voices of a band of street 
 sino^ers further alonor the road. 
 
 ' I thought you were going to have a 
 long rest before we resumed our journey to- 
 morrow V
 
 ON THE PARADE 145 
 
 ^ I can't rest, Oliver. I try, but there is 
 no rest for me. You know that,' the man 
 said fretfully. 
 
 ' I don't know why you can't rest. Fare- 
 mouth,' said Oliver, ' for you do not make 
 me your father confessor — or brother con- 
 fessor,' he corrected. 
 
 * Oliver, you are very welcome to know 
 everything, if you will not laugh at me 
 afterwards.' 
 
 ' I cannot promise ; I have a bad habit of 
 laughing. Besides, as I can't be of any 
 assistance, as you have already told me, I 
 don't want to hear of your troubles. I have 
 had such a lot of my own, Claude.' 
 
 * Have any of them been dispersed to- 
 night ?' 
 
 ' By Jove, they have !' 
 ' I congratulate you — I am glad,' and the 
 two men shook hands as if they had met 
 VOL. I. 10
 
 146 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 each other for the first time that day — an 
 action which very much puzzled Mr. Glad- 
 well, lurking in the background, and deter- 
 mined to discover, if possible, in what part 
 of the town Mr. Toope and his friend were 
 located. What were the men shaking hands 
 for ? What new compact had been ratified 
 by it ? What scheme resolved upon ? People 
 do not suddenly begin shaking hands without 
 a bargain has been struck, a promise made 
 or fulfilled, a wager laid even. And Mr. 
 Gladwell, being a distrustful man, thought 
 the action boded no good to the house of 
 Rossendale. 
 
 And it was only Claude Faremouth 
 ' wishing joy' to Oliver Toope. 
 
 ^ Thank you, old man,' said OHver to his 
 impulsive friend. ' I hope I shall have to 
 congratulate you in a similar fashion soon.' 
 
 Claude shook his head sadly.
 
 ON THE PARADE 147 
 
 * She will never come back to me, Oliver. 
 It is all hopeless/ 
 
 * Just as I have thought before to-day ; 
 but you see we have " pushed dem clouds 
 away," as the nigger says/ 
 
 ' She is very beautiful,' said Claude 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 * Who is ? Your girl, or mine V 
 
 * Miss Reeves — to whom you introduced 
 me to-night.' 
 
 ' Ah ! is not she ?' exclaimed Oliver. ' 'By 
 George ! there isn't such another young 
 woman in the whole world, Claude. And 
 so bright and sparkling ! And with such a 
 keen sense of humour, too, and as straight 
 as a die. To think my Muriel should stay 
 with those Gladwells another hour — to be 
 at their beck and call — to have to put up 
 — oh, by the way, where's the beggar got 
 to?'
 
 148 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ' What beggar V said Claude, bewil- 
 dered. 
 
 ' He's following me. He does not like 
 the look of me, and he wants to be sure 
 which way I am going home,' rephed 
 Oliver. 
 
 * That is an impertinent proceeding.' 
 
 * It is,' said Oliver ; ^ but I do not want 
 to disturb his serene highness again. Muriel 
 is in his house, and he is courteous enough 
 to her, she says. He is only a trifle curious. 
 Let the gentleman watch on,' he added, 
 shrugging his shoulders, ^ our w^ithers are 
 unwrung.' 
 
 ' What is the name— Gladwell V 
 *Yes. Dou you know anyone of that 
 name ?' 
 
 * No,' replied Claude. 
 
 * Ah ! you're lucky,' said Oliver. 
 
 ' T don't know how it is — but I should
 
 ON THE PARADE 149 
 
 like to see this Glad well, for all that,' said 
 Claude. 
 
 * Any reason V 
 
 * Not any — that is reasonable,' was the 
 reply. 
 
 * All right. We will wheel round — sharp 
 — and come face to face with him, just for 
 the fun of the thing. I feel full of fun to- 
 night, Claude.' 
 
 *Yes. You are more like your old self 
 than you have been for the last ten months.' 
 
 * Ah ! but they have been ten months 
 without Muriel.' 
 
 * And ten months with me,' added Claude 
 dryly. ^ But there, if I have depressed you 
 — weighed you down by my own morbid 
 thoughts — you have been a Godsend to me, 
 and a true friend. Will you accept my 
 gratitude by way of consolation for the 
 affliction of my presence V
 
 I50 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ' It is no affliction, stupid.' 
 
 * Thank you for saying that.' 
 
 ' For calling you a stupid V 
 
 Claude gave a sickly smile, then held out 
 his hand. 
 
 ' The only one who has ever borne 
 with me — the only friend I have ever 
 had.' 
 
 ' Oh, bosh !' but Oliver took his hand and 
 wrung it in his own. 
 
 ' What the deuce are those two men con- 
 tinually shaking hands about V muttered 
 Mr. Gladwell in the far distance. 'What 
 — oh, confusion !' 
 
 The men had suddenly turned, and were 
 coming sharply in his direction. Mr. Glad- 
 well, taken off his guard, could only think of 
 running across the road and disappearing 
 down a dark street opposite. 
 
 Oliver burst out laughing at the manoeuvre,
 
 ON THE PARADE 151 
 
 turned again with his companion, and said, 
 as they resumed their walk along the 
 parade : 
 
 ' Why, the man is as restless as you are, 
 Claude.' 
 
 ' I hope not, for the same reason,' said the 
 other. ' If so, I pity him.' 
 
 * And the reason is ' 
 
 * No peace of mind.' 
 
 ' Which passeth all understanding. Come 
 along, old death's-head and cross-bones. If 
 you can't rest I'll give you something 
 to do.' 
 
 ' What is that V 
 
 ' We will sail away home to Llanwyss- 
 andar ; it's a fine night, and I promised 
 Muriel to clear out of the town.' 
 
 ' Clear out of the town — where she is V 
 said Claude, amazed. 
 
 ' So that I shall not clash with that
 
 152 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 fellow sneaking behind us somewhere again. 
 Why should we wait till the morning when 
 we cannot rest V 
 
 ' I am with you. Yes, let us start.' 
 A quarter of an hour afterwards the two 
 friends were putting out to sea in their 
 sailing boat, and James Gladwell, looking on 
 from the distant parade, saw that it was not 
 practical to follow them further. 
 
 ' If they get drowned to-night, how glad 
 I shall be !' was his amiable observation as 
 he sauntered back towards Rossendale.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AT A LATE HOUR. 
 
 Mrs. Gladwell did not sit up for the return 
 of her husband, although she had grown 
 anxious as to his whereabouts. 
 
 * He is not generally so late as this — in- 
 deed, he seldom goes out after dinner at all,* 
 said Mrs. Gladwell ; ' but it has been an 
 exciting day. I shall be glad to rest.' 
 
 She was in her room when she said this, 
 with her maid and Muriel both in attendance. 
 Mrs. Faremouth had been inspected in a 
 perfunctory manner, and one of the maids 
 told off to see that the silent lady was safely
 
 154 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 in bed for the night, and now Muriel had to 
 be dismissed, and the long day to close for 
 her. What a day it had been ! — full of 
 changes and surprises, of doubts and diffi- 
 culties, of storm and sunshine, with the 
 sunshine left last in her heart. 
 
 ^ Good-night, Miss Reeves,' said Mrs. 
 Gladwell ; but when Muriel had returned 
 the good-night and reached the door, she 
 called to her again. Muriel returned to her 
 side, and looked down into the wistful, up- 
 turned eyes. 
 
 ' I have not been kind to you to-day, but 
 the day has been exceptional, and I,' raising 
 her shoulders, ' am so easily disturbed. I 
 am not quite the — the dragon that you 
 think me. Forgive me if I have been very 
 unjust, Miss Reeves. Good-night.' 
 
 Muriel left the room with a higher opinion 
 of her mistress than she had expected to
 
 AT A LATE HOUR 155 
 
 have before the night was over. Mrs. Glad- 
 well's new gentleness, her implied regret at 
 all that had occurred, disarmed Muriel com- 
 pletely, and the little plans for resistance 
 and retreat were routed by the new manner 
 of her mistress. For how long the new 
 manner would last she did not know ; she 
 had little faith in its continuance. Well, 
 sufficient for the day was the evil thereof — 
 let her shut herself in with better and 
 brighter thoughts, born of the coming of 
 Oliver Toope upon the scene of action. 
 
 Muriel thought that she would write to 
 Oliver Toope before she went to bed. 
 Lovers always fly to epistolary correspond- 
 ence when their hearts are overfull, even 
 if the lover has hardly quitted the house. 
 She was not going to see Oliver Toope for 
 some time, and there were a few fresh 
 matters to consider, to dwell upon, now that
 
 156 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 there was time to cool down. Oliver was 
 living for a while at Llanwyssandar, a 
 village by the sea, between the green hills, 
 known only to a few folk with large families 
 and to the fishermen and fisher wives, who 
 let apartments in their primitive cottages 
 and spoke very little English. Here a week 
 or so ago had Oliver Toope and his friend 
 settled down for a while, content with their 
 surroundings and their sailing boat, and 
 spending the greater part of their time upon 
 the sea. They had spent a clear day 
 yesterday at Great Storn's Head, and more 
 had come of that expedition than they 
 recked of at the present hour. 
 
 Muriel wrote a long letter ; she was in 
 the mood for much counsel and affection, 
 and there had been a great deal of talk con- 
 cerning their future together which required 
 some supplementary notes, now that the
 
 AT A LATE HOUR 157 
 
 engineer was not at her side to argue various 
 points with her — to subdue her with his 
 masterful way. The epistle being finished, 
 there was a letter to the mother to write, 
 and another to Em, to surprise them both 
 with the news that Oliver Toope had again 
 ' come to life,' and by the time her corre- 
 spondence was completed, the hour was 
 certainly late — not a sample of country 
 hours in any way. Looking at her little 
 gold watch, which she had placed upon the 
 mantelpiece, she found to her surprise that 
 it was past twelve o'clock, and that she had 
 begun another day at Great Storn's Head. 
 
 Mr. Gladwell had come in ; she had 
 heard him ascend the stairs and enter his 
 wife's room, which was under her own, and 
 faced Mrs. Faremouth's room on the other 
 side of the broad landing-place on the first 
 floor. She could hear his voice for a time
 
 158 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 in deep sepulchral monotones, and Mrs. 
 Gladwell's replies in a minor key — once 
 raised shrilly and only once, almost as if in 
 vituperation — then all was still in the 
 house. 
 
 The moon was bright, and the look across 
 the arm of the sea to the mountains beyond 
 was a fair picture beneath its rays. The 
 sea was a flood of rippling silver, and the 
 great hills were sullen and black by contrast. 
 Somewhere in a rock amongst those shadows 
 nestled the fishing village of Llanwyssandar, 
 where Oliver Toope and his friend would be 
 to-morrow. There was a consolation in 
 thinking that Oliver was not so very far 
 away after all — and yet four-and-twenty 
 hours ago she thought that he was in the 
 United States, had learned to forget her, 
 most likely had married someone who she 
 had hoped spitefully would * pay him out '
 
 AT A LATE HOUR 159 
 
 for all his nasty tempers, his desertion of 
 her just because he could not have all his 
 own way.- And here he was — or rather 
 there he was amongst the mountains over 
 the bay, across that flood of silver where 
 was one dark moving spot, suggestive of a 
 fishing smack, she thought, making with its 
 cargo for Llanwyssandar — and it was her 
 lover s boat reaching its home, if she had 
 only known. 
 
 It was pleasant and restful to stand by the 
 window and look out at Wild Wales steeped 
 in the moonlight — to feel that the day's 
 troubles were over and that to-morrow she 
 hoped would begin with a better under- 
 standing of everybody. She wondered in a 
 desultory fashion why she was not more 
 tired — even why she did not undress and go 
 to bed. She had not locked her door yet, she 
 suddenly remembered, and it would be as
 
 i6o THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 well in a house like this — a houseful of 
 people who did not wear their hearts upon 
 their sleeves — to turn the key upon them till 
 morning. She moved from the window, be- 
 coming suddenly conscious that her candle 
 had burned low and was flickering ominously. 
 There would hardly be time for her to get 
 across the room before the light would go 
 out, she thought, although there was suffi- 
 cient moonhght to find her way to bed by, 
 if she did not draw down the window- 
 blind. 
 
 She moved towards her door and then 
 came to a full stop, with one hand to her 
 throat, where was suddenly a nasty choking 
 sensation. Someone was coming upstairs 
 towards her room — had just reached the 
 topmost stair even ; there was a stealthy 
 tread — a cat-like tread — and although it 
 might be a servant passing up to the rooms
 
 AT A LATE HOUR i6i 
 
 above — rooms in the big gabled roof — the 
 sound was strange at that late hour. 
 She quickened her pace towards the door, 
 but it was too late. The door was pushed 
 slowly inwards, and a tall figure in a long- 
 white dressing-gown — awfully ghost-like 
 with the moonliofht on it — stood in the 
 doorway. 
 
 ' Who are you ? What do you want V 
 cried Muriel, alarmed now in real earnest. 
 
 ' Hush ! Don't make a noise. I want 
 to speak to you,' said young Mrs. Fare- 
 mouth, advancing softly into the room. 
 
 VOL. L 11
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 As the tall, fragile iigure of Mrs. Faremouth 
 
 came into the room, Muriel backed slowly 
 from her. It was a creepy sensation to find 
 that the woman downstairs had enwrapped 
 herself in a ghostly white flannel gown, and 
 ascended to the room on the next floor to 
 hold converse with its occupant in the middle 
 of night — to talk to her, Muriel : and the 
 poor young lady would not say a word in the 
 afternoon, would not answer a civil question 
 — had not been known to speak for years, 
 she had understood the Gladwells to say.
 
 *TELL CLAUDE' 163 
 
 What did it mean ? Was the woman 
 playing a part, too ? Was she not really 
 mad ? — or was she even more mad than 
 even the Gladwells knew? Mr. Gladwell 
 had said before dinner that young Mrs. 
 Faremouth might at times be dangerous, 
 and that he had waited on the landing-place 
 to be of assistance to his wife's companion, if 
 it were necessary. Was there any danger 
 now in this unlooked-for visit ? God forbid, 
 thought Muriel very fervently. 
 
 Mrs. Faremouth, upon her entrance, had 
 not attempted to close the door behind her, 
 and Muriel was glad to see a streak of light 
 from the gas on the landing-place falling 
 upon the wall of her room in quite a friendly 
 fashion. 
 
 Mrs. Faremouth saw this, too, after she 
 had spoken to Muriel in that low, excited 
 way we have indicated in our last chapter,
 
 i64 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 for she stepped back suddenly and shut the 
 door. 
 
 Muriel's heart sank a little more, and at 
 the same instant the candle gave an expiring 
 splutter and went out. There was nothing 
 left but a room in deep shadow, flecked here 
 and there by moonlight. The tall, white 
 figure was not pleasant to confront under 
 these conditions, and Muriel was half dis- 
 posed to treat herself to a good, smart, 
 healthy scream and thus disturb the Glad- 
 wells in their turn, and bring them out of 
 their first sleep to her rescue. She re- 
 strained the impulse, postponed it for a 
 while, but she did not relish the posi- 
 tion. 
 
 She had seen something like this when 
 she was a child, in a piece called the ^ Castle 
 Spectre,' and had dreamed of it afterwards 
 for many girlish years. And here it was
 
 'TELL CLAUDE' 165 
 
 now in reality, or a something so very much 
 like it that it was difficult to detect the dif- 
 ference. 
 
 ' Come to the window where I can see 
 you,' Mrs. Faremouth whispered. ^ I want 
 to watch your face while I ask you a few 
 questions — if you don't mind. If you will 
 bear with me/ she pleaded. 
 
 * Why do you want to watch me V 
 
 ' To see if I can trust you — to make quite 
 sure.' 
 
 ' Very well,' said Muriel, in reluctant 
 assent. 
 
 She had always read in books that it was 
 necessary to humour mad folk — to let them 
 have it all their own way ; to say or do 
 nothing that would excite them ; and Muriel 
 accompanied her to the window. At the 
 worst she could break the glass and shriek 
 for help, and the servants above or the
 
 i66 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 Gladwells beneath would quickly hear her, 
 she hoped. But compliance with Mrs. 
 Faremouth's wishes might save any strong 
 measure of this kind, and prompt Muriel 
 more clearly how to act. 
 
 It was not a nice position to occupy be- 
 tween twelve and one of the early morning — 
 the * dead of night,' it might be called — and 
 she regretted deeply that she had not locked 
 herself in before settling down to her desk. 
 
 Mrs. Faremouth put her hand upon 
 Muriel's wrist, and approached her own sad 
 — awfully sad — face so close to hers that 
 Muriel's blood ran very cold in her veins. 
 Muriel tried hard again not to scream, and 
 succeeded with difficulty in the ejffort. 
 
 There was a long steady stare from eyes 
 that did not flinch beneath Muriel's close 
 scrutiny into them, and then Mrs. Fare- 
 mouth said :
 
 * TELL CLAUDE ' 167 
 
 ' Yes, I can trust you. I — I hope I can,' 
 she added less confidently, the moment after- 
 wards, and with a heavy sigh. 
 
 ' What do you want with me V asked 
 Muriel. 
 
 ' Hush ! Speak lower — my sister and 
 her husband are both light sleepers, and 
 they will hear us. I am not strong. May 
 I sit down V 
 
 * Certainly.' 
 
 Mrs. Faremouth relinquished her grasp 
 of Muriel's wrist, and sat down in a chair 
 that was by the window. Muriel remained 
 standing at her side. 
 
 * I have been very mad — perhaps they 
 have told you so already. For years it has 
 been a dreadful dream to me of disaster and 
 confusion — life has been bereft of all hope 
 — I have been very mad, I own it. I have 
 been shut in with awful thoughts — but of
 
 i68 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 late days I have been coming back out of 
 the darkness to a consciousness of passing 
 things, of what is happening around me, of 
 what is going to happen ! I seem to under- 
 stand ' she whispered eagerly, ' I do 
 
 understand. God has been very good to 
 me. I thank Him with all my soul. I am 
 not mad now. I am getting well — getting 
 well very fast. I am, indeed.' 
 
 Muriel was not quite certain of the fact, 
 but she did not venture to express a doubt. 
 Certainly there was a great change in Mrs. 
 Faremouth — a wonderful change, if the 
 Gladwells' statement were to be believed. 
 
 * In what way can I be of service to you?' 
 Muriel asked. 
 
 ' You can enlighten me on many things ; 
 on one thing more than any other. You 
 can !' was the quick reply. 
 
 ^ Well V
 
 'TELL CLAUDE' 169 
 
 ' Doubtless you may have heard th at my 
 husband is dead. They have told people so 
 for years — for more years, good God, than I 
 am able to count. It was the memory of 
 his awful death which turned my brain. I 
 remember it all now — so I must be getting 
 better, stronger,' she ran on in the same 
 eager whisper. ^ I must be coming back to 
 my old self And he is alive — in this house 
 somewhere, isnt he ? For the love of 
 Heaven, tell an unhappy, desolate wife the 
 whole truth of it ? You know !' 
 
 * Alas, Mrs. Faremouth, I know so very 
 little.' 
 
 ^ You are in the secret. You have been 
 sent by him to break the news to me. Don't 
 tell me that you have not, or I shall die,' 
 she implored. ' Oh, I want a friend so 
 much — so very, very much !' 
 
 * Your sister '
 
 I70 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 * Not now — not my friend now, I am 
 afraid. But my husband — tell me all about 
 him,' she urged. ^ How is it that I have 
 thought him dead all this long dreadful time, 
 and yet that I have seen him to-night, as 
 surely as there is a God in heaven ? Has 
 he come out of his grave ? Explain that to 
 me, do !' 
 
 Muriel was bewildered. Some inkling of 
 the truth had been already in her mind, but 
 it had been set aside for future considera- 
 tion. 
 
 ' Where did you think you saw your 
 husband V 
 
 ' Going out of this very house to-night ; 
 just before it was getting dark,' was the 
 whispered answer. ' He looked up at the 
 windows, but he did not see me ; and he 
 went down that way — towards the town.' 
 
 * Is he called Claude V
 
 'TELL CLAUDE' 171 
 
 Yes — yes ; that is his name. How did 
 
 you 
 
 ' A Mr. Claude Faremouth came with his 
 friend, Mr. Toope, who is an intimate friend 
 of mine, this evening to the house. He only 
 stayed a few moments.' 
 
 ' He will come again ; he will fetch me 
 away from this awful place. He has not 
 abandoned me. He will save me, will he not V 
 
 ' If he is your husband, I am sure he will 
 come again, madam.' 
 
 * He must be Claude — my Claude. What 
 doubt is there of it now V 
 
 ' I hope he is,' said Muriel. ' I — I think 
 he is. And I will help you very willingly.' 
 
 ' God bless you.' 
 
 The young woman leaned suddenly for- 
 ward, and kissed Muriel's hand. 
 
 'This Mr. Faremouth comes from America,' 
 explained Muriel.
 
 172 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ' Yes, it is he. My Claude was born in 
 the States. I was in the States until they 
 told me he was dead ; he is an American. 
 I am an American, and Lavinia, and the 
 man she married, and who calls himself 
 Glad well now — we are all Americans.' 
 
 * Is not Gladwell his name V asked Muriel 
 wonderingly. 
 
 ' No — no. Nor my sister's. What does 
 that mean V 
 
 ^ Heaven knows, madam,' was the reply. 
 ^ I don't.' 
 
 ' I do not know, but I do not think I care 
 now that my Claude's alive. They will let 
 me see him — they do not bear me any ill- 
 will. There can be no possible object in 
 keeping him from me just because I have 
 been mad. They would not be so unjust, so 
 cruel, as that.' 
 
 ' Do they know your husband is alive ?'
 
 'TELL CLAUDE' 173 
 
 ' I have been so long in the dark I cannot 
 tell. Claude has not been here before, 
 then V 
 
 * He and Mr. Toope came over from the 
 States a few weeks ago/ Muriel replied. 
 
 ' Claude has come in search of me, and 
 God has given me back my mind, my senses, 
 so that I shall be strong enough to welcome 
 him. I am so glad, so very, very glad !' 
 
 Mrs. Faremouth shed some happy tears, 
 and Muriel felt drawn towards her. Here 
 was a young woman who had ^ come back 
 to herself,' from whom God had taken away 
 the affliction and the burden, and brought 
 back mental strength and almost sober 
 reason in their place. The change had 
 begun before the coming home of Claude 
 Faremouth — the change from dull dead 
 apathy to an interest in passing things, and 
 the world, thought Muriel, for this poor
 
 174 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 woman was probably to be a brighter place 
 to the end of her days. 
 
 * I feel glad, along with you, Mrs. Fare- 
 mouth/ said Muriel in response to the last 
 words which had escaped her. 
 
 ' Will you tell me your name, young 
 lady V 
 
 ^ Muriel Reeves.' 
 
 ^ I will remember it in my prayers/ she 
 said. ' For all my prayers came back to- 
 night. It is so very different about me.' 
 
 Muriel could but repeat her congratula- 
 tions. 
 
 ' They will be pleased, too, that I am 
 recoverinof — I think,' said Mrs. Faremouth 
 thoughtfully. ' I don't quite know if they 
 will. I never cared for my sister's husband, 
 never trusted him, never understood him — 
 and Claude did not like him either. But 
 Lavinia will rejoice — I am almost sure she
 
 * TELL CLAUDE' 175 
 
 will. She has a good heart. She was 
 always fond of me. But ' 
 
 She paused, and then went on again. 
 
 * But do not tell her that I came to you 
 to ask about my husband — that I suspected 
 there was a plot to keep him from me — that 
 I believed that they knew where he was 
 all along. I think, from what you have 
 said to me to-night, that I have done them 
 an injustice. Hence to-morrow, Muriel 
 Reeves — that is to-day, is it not ? — there 
 will be rejoicing downstairs that I have 
 come back to life.' 
 
 ' Yes, yes ; surely so.' 
 
 * Don't tell them what I have said to you, 
 or that I have been in your room like this. 
 Leave it all to me.' 
 
 ' I have no right to interfere, madam.' 
 
 * You will tell me where my Claude is ? 
 — for you know.'
 
 176 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 Muriel walked to the mantelpiece, took 
 down the letters, went to the door and 
 opened it, so that she should be able to read 
 one of the superscriptions. 
 
 'Myrtle Lodge, Llanwyssandar, North 
 Wales,' she read. 
 
 ' Thank you. Should I forget it, which 
 is not likely, tell it me again to-morrow,' 
 said Mrs. Faremouth, who had followed 
 Muriel to the door, and gave her another 
 fright by appearing thus suddenly at her 
 elbow ; ' and should I,' she added, dropping 
 her voice, ' drift away again — my God ! — 
 back again to that awful void from which 
 I have emerged as by a miracle to-night, 
 tell Claude. Be my friend always. Tell 
 Claude !' 
 
 She passed out of the room, after rest- 
 ing her hands affectionately on Muriel's 
 shoulders, and went down the stairs noise-
 
 *TELL CLAUDE' 177 
 
 lessly and swiftly. As she turned the 
 angle of the stairs, the white, wan, but still 
 lovely face looked up again at Muriel, who 
 was watching her descent. 
 
 * Tell Claude ! For God's sake, tell him !' 
 she repeated, and the low hissing whisper 
 welled up the staircase like a prayer. Then 
 Mrs. Faremouth disappeared into her own 
 room, and Muriel was left a chance of rest 
 at last. 
 
 VOL. I. 12
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 AN AWKWARD MEETING. 
 
 Though Muriel Reeves went to bed late, she 
 rose betimes in the morning. She had had 
 a deep restful sleep till five, but at that 
 early hour she was awake once more. She 
 was very particularly wide-awake, and lay 
 staring at the window-blind — which she 
 had drawn down after Mrs. Faremouth's 
 departure — and at the daylight behind it, 
 feeling that it was quite impossible to at- 
 tempt to go to sleep again. She was broad 
 awake and staring, and all the thoughts of 
 the preceding day came in battalions to her.
 
 AN AWKWARD MEETING 179 
 
 So much had happened in twenty-four hours, 
 there seemed so much to happen in the next 
 revolution of a troubled earth round a fiery- 
 faced sun, that Muriel sat up in bed with 
 her little white hands pressed to her temples 
 — a child-like figure puzzling over a proble- 
 matical sum. 
 
 Thoughts of Oliver, of the Gladwells, of 
 the midnight visit of Mrs. Faremouth, and 
 of all that Mrs. Faremouth had said to her, 
 of more that she had implied — they were 
 besetting her already and making her head 
 ache. 
 
 Headache ! Oh, if she were to have one 
 of her old sick -headaches from which she 
 used to suffer in that crowded London upon 
 which she had turned her back ! If she had 
 to begin the day with it, and so early a day 
 as this was, a day that was to trouble more 
 than herself, and wherein her charge, Mrs.
 
 i8o THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 Gladwell, might not be at her best ! What 
 if she got up and had a long walk before 
 breakfast ? 
 
 She was fond of long early walks, and 
 they had kept her in health, and brushed 
 away many a mental cobweb, many an old- 
 time worry which had sprung from Oliver 
 Toope's * tiffs,' or the household cares of the 
 little house in Kennington Lane. She 
 would dress, and go out in the early morn- 
 ing, and have a long trudge over the great 
 hills, if she could reach them in time, and 
 her time, she took it for granted, was her 
 own until Mrs. Gladwell came down to 
 breakfast ; she had a right to employ her 
 own time in the way which she considered 
 most satisfactory to herself Besides, she 
 craved for fresh air, for absence from the 
 close, mysterious house of Rossendale, and 
 for a good mile or two between it and her.
 
 AN AWKWARD MEETING i8i 
 
 A long walk in the fresh air, over the hills, 
 or along the seashore, perhaps a sea-bath if 
 she had time, and she could return to the 
 house by eight o'clock, refreshed in mind 
 and body. 
 
 It was too early to ask permission, as she 
 might have done had anyone been stirring 
 in the house. She was not a servant ; she 
 was, she thought, with a sudden smile that 
 lighted up her face electrically, a young lady 
 engaged to be married. The sunshine was 
 very tempting ; there was a breeze, causing 
 the grass to quiver and the leaves to rustle 
 on tree and bush, and all the birds were 
 singing bravely. 
 
 Before half- past five Muriel was proceed- 
 ing cautiously downstairs towards the front 
 door ; she did not wish to wake anybody in 
 the house ; they might all be tired, having, 
 like herself, had something out of the com-
 
 i82 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 mori way to distress them, and she did not 
 wish to wake them from their sleep. There 
 was even a fear upon her that someone 
 might call to her, set an interdict upon her 
 leaving the house, exercise the power of an 
 arbitrary taskmaster or mistress, and say 
 that she must keep to her room, that Mrs. 
 Gladwell might require her services at an 
 early hour, and that it was expected from 
 the new companion that she should be in- 
 variably prepared for a summons to the 
 presence of that peevish lady. But no one 
 was astir, and Muriel passed the door of the 
 Gladwells' rooms, and of Mrs. Faremouth's, 
 and went downstairs to the hall unchecked 
 and unobserved. To her surprise, she found 
 the street-door open, and the sunshine and 
 the morning breeze coming into the hall like 
 welcome guests. 
 
 Muriel paused to consider this, and to
 
 AN AWKWARD MEETING 183 
 
 wonder what it might imply. They had 
 not forgotten last night to lock up, for she 
 remembered that she had heard bolts drawn 
 and locks turned in various directions, the 
 present street-door having been the noisiest 
 over its fastenings. Mrs. Gladwell was too 
 nervous a woman not to be particular con- 
 cerning the house's security, Muriel was 
 certain. Who had gone out, then, or who 
 was coming in ? Should she close the door 
 or leave it as she had discovered it, before 
 setting forth upon her pilgrimage ? Had 
 Mr. Gladwell gone out ? She remembered 
 Mr. Gladwell's going out early yesterday 
 morning ; possibly it was a habit of his. 
 But did he leave the door open behind him ? 
 and were people at Great Storn s Head to 
 be trusted so implicitly as this, honest as 
 they might all be ? If she shut the door 
 behind her, she might shut out Mr. Glad-
 
 1 84 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 well, or a servant, or someone. The door 
 was left wide open intentionally, she pre- 
 sumed, and a hasty glance into the dining- 
 room, and into the study where she had 
 been allowed to receive Oliver Toope, as- 
 sured her that there had been no thieves 
 about. What to do with that open door 
 was highly perplexing, vexatiously perplex- 
 ing. A front-door certainly ought to be 
 open or shut, and she did not know which 
 was right in this instance, and could not 
 make up her mind to act on her own judg- 
 ment. Yery likely it was one of the maid- 
 servants, who had perhaps got up early to 
 meet her lover on his way to his work, and 
 she could not shut her out in the cold, and 
 get her a month's notice, or instant dismissal 
 and a month's wages. Mrs. Gladwell, if 
 once roused, would not be particular about 
 adopting either course. Yes, Muriel was
 
 AN AWKWARD MEETING 185 
 
 irritable at times. She stamped her foot, 
 and said very angrily, ' Bother the door !' 
 and then drew it softly to, leaving it ajar. 
 
 ' It is open for a purpose, so it had better 
 remain so,' was her verdict ; but when she 
 had gone a few steps she paused, went back, 
 and looked at the door again. ' Oh, it is 
 all right,' was her final decision, and then 
 she went away in real earnest, and soon 
 forgot that Rossendale was open to all 
 comers at half-past five in the morning. 
 
 Muriel went from the town and the pier 
 and the sea to begin with, turning in the 
 reverse direction towards the heart of the 
 country. 
 
 ' I shall have it to myself,' she said, with 
 that craving to be alone which comes, to each 
 of us in turn, and at odd times and seasons. 
 ' I can think it all out so much better.' 
 
 Presently she found that she was on a
 
 i86 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 road that wound away from Great Storn's 
 Head, and that by degrees she had left the 
 town far away in the background. Branch- 
 ing from this road were numerous footpaths 
 and sheep-tracks all tending towards a higher 
 level, and one of these she followed, walking 
 at a fair pace. She was wandering over 
 close green turf and under the shadow of 
 tall trees at last, with the air becoming 
 purer and keener and stronger as she as- 
 cended to the higher ground, so that her 
 skirts clung to her, her hair became rough, 
 and there was a difficulty in keeping her hat 
 on. There was mountain-land close upon 
 her and, looking back, she could see Great 
 Storn s Head frowning at her in all its 
 rugged grandeur, with its modern, toy-like 
 villas clustering upon its side, and on the 
 right a mass of house-roofs and church- 
 spires, significant of the sleeping town, and
 
 AN AWKWARD MEETING 187 
 
 beyond that the great sea, alive with crested 
 waves. She was amongst the hills, above it 
 all, and with the mountains beyond her, only 
 a mile or two away, it seemed. If she went 
 on and on she should come to them easily, 
 she thought ; but they lay further away 
 than she dreamed, and, like human happi- 
 ness and love unalloyed, there was no reach- 
 ing them. 
 
 But the walk invigorated her, and brought 
 the colour to her cheeks. She was away 
 from the busy hum of men, beyond the 
 common track, doubtful if she were not 
 trespassing on private ground even. The 
 highroad lay some hundreds of feet below 
 her, and wound in and out amongst the 
 hedgerows like a great white snake. , There 
 was a river meandering from the sea into 
 the far country. She could trace its pro- 
 gress for miles, shining like silver in the
 
 i88 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 morning sun. Here were the ruins of a 
 castle, not very far distant from her, and a 
 railway bridge spanning the river ; and 
 mountain peering over mountain, green and 
 purple and gray, which took sullen frowns 
 to themselves when the sun went in, and 
 were full of solemnity and power — haunts 
 of the giants or homes of the gods. 
 
 Muriel had not the heart to turn back ; 
 she had reached the summit of the hill, 
 which now began to dip downwards precipi- 
 tately, and to have rough boulders and 
 scarred ribs of rocks upon its sides, which 
 rendered walking difficult. She stopped 
 and looked at her watch. It was a quarter 
 to seven. She had been away from Rossen- 
 dale an hour ; it would be close on eight 
 o'clock before she returned home, perhaps 
 later. Mrs. Gladwell would be angry and 
 curious, and ' the man who called himself
 
 AN AWKWARD MEETING 189 
 
 Gladwell now,' as Mrs. Faremouth had 
 oddly phrased it, would scowl at her across 
 the breakfast- table, or smile at her mean- 
 ingly and familiarly, which would be worse. 
 
 Yes, she must make haste back. She 
 should not care to be questioned and cross- 
 questioned as to her movements ; her time 
 was at her own disposal before eight in the 
 morning, she considered, but she wished she 
 was not so great a distance from Rossen- 
 dale. 
 
 She turned to retrace her steps. There 
 seemed to be a short cut round the dip of 
 the hill and through quite a little forest of 
 trees : it would lead her in the right direc- 
 tion and save the complete ascent of the 
 hill, she thought. Ah, those short cuts over 
 hill and mountain — how many travellers 
 have they led into error ! 
 
 Muriel lost her way under the trees.
 
 I90 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 She wandered amongst the bracken, the 
 wild flowers, and the * scrub,' and there 
 did not seem any way to the open again, 
 tried she never so hard to fight her way 
 through. It had all seemed comparatively 
 easy, but it was not, and when she had 
 arrived at a piece of hill that dropped 
 suddenly and perpendicularly some twenty 
 feet down, she had to retrace her steps, 
 and walk round the jagged edge to higher 
 ground, before she was able to continue her 
 descent. 
 
 Muriel could have shed a tear or two 
 with vexation if she had been a crying girl, 
 but she was not emotional. She had a will 
 of her own — a strong will — but it seldom 
 led her into extravagance of action. Oliver 
 Toope, when particularly aggravating, used 
 to disturb her equanimity in the old 
 Kennington days, but as a rule she was
 
 AN AWKWARD MEETING 191 
 
 always self-composed and just as aggravat- 
 ing as he was. But these Welsh hills and 
 dales and undergrowths were very unlike 
 the delicious flatness of the parish of Ken- 
 nington, where a person can see which way 
 he is going for half a mile at a time. 
 
 Suddenly Muriel gave a start. There 
 was a man lying full length upon the grass, 
 under the shade of a huge bush, with his 
 arms folded and his head upon his arms — a 
 well-dressed man, whose figure did not seem 
 wholly unfamiliar to her. A felt bowler 
 hat had rolled a little distance from him 
 down the hillside, and an ivory-handled 
 walking-stick was within his hand's reach. 
 Was the man ill, or in a reverie, or asleep ? 
 No, not asleep, for as she approached he 
 scrambled into a sitting posture, and glanced 
 up, all eyes, at Muriel. 
 
 It was James Gladwell, who had been
 
 192 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 taking his ease on the hills, a wild-looking 
 Gladwell, whom she had never seen before, 
 with a torn collar and dishevelled hair, with 
 bits of straw and grass in it a la Ophelia, 
 and with eyes as bloodshot as a bull-dog's. 
 He looked with intense surprise, almost con- 
 sternation, at Muriel, and exclaimed : 
 
 ' Miss Reeves — you !' 
 
 ^Yes, it is I, Mr. Gladwell. I 
 have ' 
 
 * You have been following me,' he inter- 
 rupted angrily. ' Mrs. Gladwell has put 
 you up to this plan with her fool's sus- 
 picions and insufferable jealousy. Great 
 Heaven ! As if a man cannot take a walk 
 in the early morning without being spied 
 upon in this manner. If you had had any 
 thought for me. Miss Reeves, you would 
 have refused to lend yourself to anything 
 so despicable. I have had enough of this
 
 AN AWKWARD MEETING 193 
 
 — by Heaven ! I have had enough of such a 
 life as mine is altogether. I would as soon 
 end it as not. I would indeed.' 
 
 Muriel Reeves did not interrupt him. 
 She was far too astonished to take her own 
 part, to assert indignantly that he had 
 leaped hastily to conclusions, and had 
 wrongfully misjudged her. She had not 
 recovered her breath, and he, too, was pant- 
 ing like a dog. She had only strength to 
 think, and her first thought was that Mr. 
 James Glad well was very drunk indeed. 
 
 She found her voice at last. 
 
 ' I have not been following you, sir. You 
 are the last person I expected to meet.' 
 
 ' What are you doing up here, at this 
 hour of the morning V he inquired peremp- 
 torily. 
 
 ' I could not sleep. I thought that I 
 would take a stroll before breakfast.' 
 
 VOL. I. 13
 
 194 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 'You had no right to leave the house/ 
 he said rudely, and Muriel felt constrained 
 to answer him in his own fashion. 
 
 * Pardon me, but I shall leave the house 
 when it pleases me,' she said warmly, in 
 reply. ' I am not in Wales to receive your 
 orders, Mr. Glad well, or to submit to the 
 insolence of your dictation.' 
 
 He gave a little gasp of astonishment as 
 he rose to his feet, knitted his brows, and 
 then said more graciously : 
 
 'It is a strange walk to choose. Miss 
 Reeves, at so early an hour. It is not a 
 safe walk for a lady. The quarrymen are 
 moving soon after five, will be crossing here 
 at six, and they are very rough men, not a 
 few of them.' 
 
 * I have not met anyone.' 
 
 ' Ah, but you will, I say,' he answered, 
 with a snap.
 
 AN AWKWARD MEETING 195 
 
 * It is nearly half-past seven.' 
 
 * What !' 
 
 Muriel did not repeat her information, 
 for he dragged his own watch from his 
 pocket, and looked down at it as at a 
 basilisk. 
 
 * So late !' he muttered. ' I — I must 
 have dropped off to sleep. Like yourself. 
 Miss Muriel,' he said, with a sudden laugh 
 that made Muriel jump back with surprise, 
 as though he had fired a pistol at her, * I 
 am of a restless disposition.' 
 
 Muriel did not admire the grim effort 
 of James Gladwell to give a facetious turn 
 to the conversation ; his irritable manner 
 appeared to be, at this juncture, far more 
 natural. Mr. Gladwell was vexed at being 
 discovered on the hills, and had resented 
 Muriel's appearance there, and set her down 
 as a spy upon him. He was scarcely con-
 
 196 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 vinced now, and still regarded Muriel 
 askance. 
 
 ' Mrs. Gladwell will make a story out of 
 this meeting between us — a brand-new story- 
 altogether — a nice little romantic episode/ 
 he said with another laugh, which did not 
 scare Muriel this time. ' I wish you had 
 not come in this direction.' 
 
 ' I have lost my way/ replied Muriel, 
 ^ or I should have been back in Rossendale 
 at half-past seven.' 
 
 ^ If you follow those white stones, down 
 the hillside, you will soon get to the high- 
 road,' he said. 
 
 * Thank you,' said Muriel, and started 
 away at once. 
 
 She was glad to get free from him. She 
 felt in her heart afraid of him, and of his 
 new manner, which appeared to be so 
 singularly unreal. That he did not oflfer
 
 AN AWKWARD MEETING 197 
 
 to accompany her on the homeward journey 
 was another source of intense rehef. She 
 had begun ah-eady to dislike him, and to 
 distrust him more than she disHked him. 
 
 James Gladwell watched her descent for 
 a while, then stooped, picked up his hat and 
 stick, and scrambled down the hill in hot 
 haste, and in a different direction altogether. 
 
 * If I can only get home before her !' he 
 cried.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MR. GLADWELL MAKES A SUGGESTION. 
 
 Muriel Reeves did not find her way home 
 quite as readily as she thought that it was 
 possible she might do. Either she had mis- 
 taken Mr. GladwelFs instructions or had 
 again turned in a wrong direction, for, 
 though she reached the level ground of the 
 highroad without much difficulty, it was at 
 a point that necessitated a considerable detour 
 before she found herself in a direct line to 
 Rossendale. She seemed to have even walked 
 half round the hill before she finally reached 
 the right track, and the suspicion that Mr.
 
 MR, GLADWELL MAKES A SUGGESTION 199 
 
 Gladwell had sent her off in the wrong direc- 
 tion was not wholly removed from her mind. 
 She could not see the motive for so mis- 
 chievous a proceeding ; it would be only- 
 adding to the complications at Rossendale, 
 she thought, to delay her arrival, and she 
 gave Mr. Gladwell the benefit of the doubt 
 until she reached home — not afterwards. It 
 was half-past eight o'clock when she was at 
 her post at the breakfast-table, and Mr. 
 Gladwell had been back more than half an 
 hour. She found him sitting at the head 
 of the table, serene and smiling, and very 
 unlike the scared-looking individual whom 
 she had seen last on the hills. Mrs. Glad- 
 well was absent from the dining-room, 
 and, as Muriel glanced towards the vacant 
 chair, the master said, by way of explana- 
 tion : 
 
 'Mrs. Gladwell is not very well this
 
 200 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 morning, and will take her breakfast in her 
 own room.' 
 
 ' Can I be of any ' Muriel began, 
 
 rising, when he hastily interrupted her. 
 
 ' By no means, Miss Muriel, please,' he 
 said. ' Pray resume your seat. After your 
 long walk I am sure you require rest, and 
 Mrs. Gladwell is not yet awake.' 
 
 ' Indeed !' said Muriel, sitting down 
 again. 
 
 ' She did not sleep well in the earlier 
 part of the night, despite her chloral, which 
 she takes now with too painful regularity to 
 please me, poor darling 1' he said ; ' but she 
 is slumbering like a child now. It would be 
 a great pity to disturb her.' 
 
 Muriel Reeves slightly inclined her head 
 by way of assent, but made no comment on 
 this piece of information. He had taken up 
 her Christian name again — to which she
 
 MR. GLADWELL MAKES A SUGGESTION 201 
 
 had already strongly objected — and that was 
 a sign that his irritable or suspicious moods 
 had retired into the background. He ap- 
 peared to have completely set aside their 
 sharp skirmish of words of an hour or 
 so ago, and was the smiling, patronizing, 
 half- familiar being of luncheon-time yester- 
 day. No one could be more anxious to 
 please, to set her at her ease, than was this 
 suave gentleman ; but Muriel was grave and 
 ' stand-oflBsh,' and very much on guard. It 
 was not satisfactory to be breakfasting tete- 
 a-tete with her employer ; she would have 
 been glad to wait until he had completed 
 his repast, and felt that it had been carefully 
 arranged that it should not be so. Mr. 
 Gladwell was anxious to put himself on 
 friendly terms with Muriel again, if possible. 
 He did not attempt to ignore the early 
 morning altercation ; rather, he dashed into
 
 202 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 the subject before the maid in attendance 
 had retired. 
 
 * I am afraid I was too severe with you 
 this morning, Miss Muriel/ said he, almost 
 apologetically ; ^ but, to tell you the truth, 
 I was so completely astonished by your 
 appearance at so great a distance from home 
 — it struck me as so important that you 
 should, in my absence, be at hand to be of 
 service to Mrs. Gladwell — that I fear I was 
 unnecessarily harsh. I hope you have for- 
 given me V 
 
 ' I have nothing to forgive, Mr. Gladwell,' 
 replied Muriel. ' But it is an unpleasant 
 reminiscence that I shall be glad to forget.' 
 
 * Ahem ! Yes, exactly. After all. Miss 
 Muriel, I spoke for your good. It is not 
 safe, I assure you, at so early an hour, to be 
 wandering over the hills,' he said. ^ I have 
 informed you already that the quarrymen
 
 MR. GLADWELL MAKES A SUGGESTION 203 
 
 go to their work by short-cuts oyer the 
 mountains, and they are not too refined a 
 section of our little Welsh community/ 
 
 ' I have heard a better account of them/ 
 said Muriel. ^ But need we pursue the 
 subject further ? I shall not go that way 
 again.' 
 
 ' I am glad to hear that.' 
 
 ' You have no fear, Mr. Glad well V she 
 asked. 
 
 ^ Oh, I am well known to them all — con- 
 sidered by them quite a jolly good fellow, if 
 I may say it without appearing to be an 
 egotist,' he repHed, laughing. ^ I under- 
 stand them — they understand me, especially 
 when I part with a shilling or two.' 
 
 Having delivered himself of this little 
 speech, he went on with his breakfast. 
 Suddenly he dashed into conversation 
 again.
 
 204 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 * You will find an early walk by the sea- 
 shore less fatiguing — even more bracing. 
 Pray believe that there will be no objection 
 to your trips, if you are partial to early 
 morning rambles, from either Mrs. Glad- 
 well or myself. We do not wish you to 
 consider us exacting — quite the contrary.' 
 
 Muriel bowed, but the bad impression 
 which she had formed of Mr. Gladwell did 
 not evaporate under his new manner. It 
 was affected and false to a girl who was 
 naturally shrewd ; it had not the true ring- 
 in it ; it was not calculated in any way to 
 deceive her. James Gladwell did not know 
 this ; he was vain enough to think that he 
 was impressive, and that he posed as a very 
 fair specimen of the straightforward English- 
 man. He was at his ease in his own house ; 
 he was the master ; he was eloquent and 
 good-looking, and he had made the amende
 
 MR. GLADWELL MAKES A SUGGESTION 205 
 
 hmiorable. Ninety-nine men out of a 
 hundred would have stood too much upon 
 their dignity to offer a word in extenuation 
 of a rude speech or an ugly scowl or two, 
 and he had certainly come out very strong 
 in both. 
 
 But he failed to soften the heart of Muriel, 
 who was not naturally obdurate either. She 
 had learned to distrust him, and she did 
 not dispense her smiles quite as freely as he 
 did when the mood seized upon him to do so. 
 
 ^ It might be as well. Miss Muriel,' he 
 said, after another long silence, during which 
 he had regarded with great intentness his 
 reflection in the silver coffee-pot, ' to say 
 nothing of our meeting on the hills this 
 morning to Mrs. Glad well.' 
 
 ' For what reason ?' Muriel said quickly, 
 and with a flush upon her cheeks that she 
 was unable to repress.
 
 2o6 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 ' Mrs. Gladwell takes such strange views 
 of things — is so easily disturbed, jumps 
 quickly — I confess it — to such wrong con- 
 clusions, that it strikes me that it would be 
 infinitely better to let this meeting be just 
 as if,' he said, spreading out his hands, * it 
 never had been. Neither for my sake, nor 
 for yours, but in kindly consideration for a 
 woman who is far from well just now.' 
 
 ' I have every consideration for Mrs. 
 Gladwell, but I see no reason to make a 
 secret of this.' 
 
 * No secret. Oh no, certainly not a secret !' 
 he responded with alacrity. 
 
 * Neither do I see anything that can 
 disturb Mrs. Gladwell by the simple state- 
 ment that I met you by accident outside.' 
 
 ' On the hills.' 
 
 * On the hills, as you say.' 
 
 Mr. Gladwell looked at himself in the
 
 MR. GLADWELL MAKES A SUGGESTION 207 
 
 coffee-pot again, and frowned at his distorted 
 image, but said no more. 
 
 Muriel was glad when he rose and said 
 politely : 
 
 ' If you will excuse me. Miss Reeves V 
 
 ' With pleasure,' said Muriel spon- 
 taneously, and not meaning to be satirical ; 
 but he glanced askance at her as he moved 
 towards the door. Muriel felt relieved when 
 he had quitted the room. 
 
 ' If I stopped here for any length of 
 time,' she soliloquized, ' 1 think it would 
 be a difficult task to keep from hating that 
 man.' 
 
 About an hour and a half later, when 
 Mrs. Gladwell came downstairs for the first 
 time that day, equipped for her morning 
 excursion in her bath- chair, it was soon 
 apparent that her lord and husband had 
 frustrated the recital of Muriel's little ad-
 
 2o8 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 venture by proffering his version of the 
 story. 
 
 What that might chance to be did not 
 affect Muriel particularly ; she was only 
 anxious that there should be no secret be- 
 tween her and the gentleman who was 
 standing in the sunshine at the outer gate 
 smoking his briar, and waiting patiently to 
 escort his wife to the pier. 
 
 Mrs. Gladwell was not so effusive as last 
 night, not so gentle in her manner. 
 
 ' A woman of many moods, and this not 
 one of the best of them,' thought Muriel, 
 as her mistress's face was turned towards 
 her. 
 
 ' Good - morning,' Mrs. Gladwell said 
 coldly. 
 
 ' Good-morning, madam. You have had 
 a bad night, I am sorry to hear,' said 
 Muriel. ^ I hope you feel better now.'
 
 MR. GLADWELL MAKES A SUGGESTION 209 
 
 ^ Heaven alone knows when I shall feel 
 better/ was the sharp reply. ^ I do not look 
 for it too readily — it may never be my lot 
 to find it. But I have slept heavily lately. 
 James must have given me too much chloral, 
 I think ; I am drowsy still.' 
 
 ' Do I accompany you this morning V in- 
 quired Muriel. 
 
 ' My husband always accompanies me in 
 the morning. And I shall not require you 
 to fetch me home to-day.' 
 
 ' Very well, madam.' 
 
 * You must be very tired after your long 
 walk,' she added, somewhat caustically. 
 
 ' I can stand a great deal of fatigue,' said 
 Muriel. 
 
 * Being young and strong. Happy woman!' 
 was the reply. ^ But you must not under- 
 take these excursions without informing me 
 the night before of your intention. I was 
 
 VOL. I. 14
 
 2IO THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 left alone for hours. I do not like that, and 
 cannot bear it.' 
 
 ' I was not aware Mr. Gladwell was 
 away.' 
 
 ' Neither was I till I awoke half an hour 
 ago. It is a new fad, this early rising of my 
 husband's. I hope it will agree with him 
 whilst it lasts,' she added thoughtfully ; ' and 
 I am sure it will not last long. He is not 
 of one mind very long together, poor James !' 
 She said this more to herself than to 
 Muriel, and looked thoughtful whilst she 
 said it, closing her eyes for more undivided 
 reflection possibly. Muriel thought that 
 Mrs. Gladwell had dropped off to sleep 
 again, but she had not. She rose to her 
 feet suddenly, took Muriel's arm, and walked 
 into the front garden where the bath-chair 
 was waiting, and Mr. Gladwell. 
 
 Muriel watched husband and wife depart,
 
 MR. GLADWELL MAKES A SUGGESTION 211 
 
 and was glad when they had gone, which 
 was not a nice feeHnof to have lurkinor in the 
 recesses of her heart. But this was only a 
 passing experience — it would soon be all 
 over and done with. 
 
 ' I shall be glad to get away,' she 
 murmured, as a young woman restless and 
 dissatisfied might have done. 
 
 The coming of Oliver Toope had evidently 
 given a considerable turn to her thoughts.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SUSPICIONS. 
 
 It was almost a * day off ' to Muriel Reeves. 
 Her services were not in requisition, and 
 she might have considered — had she cared 
 to do so — that it was rather an easy time of 
 it that was foreshadowed. Mrs. Gladwell 
 came back to luncheon, and went out imme- 
 diately afterwards in her bath - chair and 
 with the same attendance. Mr. Gladwell 
 was amiable and cheerful, and painstaking ; 
 and if it had been the settled intention of 
 Mrs. Gladwell to keep her husband to her- 
 self that day the result was a complete
 
 SUSPICIONS 213 
 
 success. James Gladwell wheeled his wife 
 to and fro with a complacent, if somewhat 
 set, smile on his countenance, and pointed 
 out the attractions of the hour — there were 
 not too many of them ; and he was anxious 
 about the sea-breeze — there was a breeze 
 that day — not visiting her too roughly. He 
 was solicitous also concerning a feather boa's 
 fitting neatly and closely round his wife's 
 thin throat, and he was altogether more of 
 the model husband on parade than was even 
 customary with him — which was saying a 
 great deal. Muriel did not stir from the 
 house. Once she went upstairs to Mrs. 
 Faremouth's room, but the door was secured 
 on the inside, and the lady declined to re- 
 gard the two little knocks which Muriel 
 gave on the panels without. Had the silent 
 fit come back, shadowing the mind which 
 was struggHng faintly for suj^remacy again ?
 
 214 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 And why had Mrs. Faremouth locked her 
 door ? Muriel remembered that there had 
 been, very properly, no key to the lock 
 when she had entered the room yesterday 
 afternoon. 
 
 Nothing out of the ordinary way occurred 
 till after dinner, when the dessert was on 
 the table, and Mr. and Mrs. Glad well, with 
 Muriel, were together. Then the door 
 opened, and Mrs. Faremouth entered, 
 ' clothed and in her right mind.' 
 
 ^ Leave me to tell my story my own 
 way,' she had said to Muriel Reeves, and 
 Muriel had maintained a rigid silence ac- 
 cordingly, although she had had a few 
 scruples as to the wisdom of the jiroceeding. 
 But, then, for another unaccountable reason 
 she had more faith in this mind-worn lady 
 than in those who were in charge of her. 
 Strange was it that Mrs. Faremouth was
 
 SUSPICIONS 215 
 
 the only inmate of Rossendale whom Muriel 
 felt that she could trust. 
 
 James Gladwell looked up as the door 
 opened, sat back in his chair, and waited for 
 the further revelation of the story. Muriel, 
 who had glanced at him instinctively, felt 
 that he was not so completely surprised as 
 he had been last evening at an event not 
 one half so remarkable as this. Yes, she 
 had ' caught it.' She was as suspicious as 
 the rest of them in that unlucky house — for 
 it crossed her mind that James Gladwell 
 was only trying hard to look astonished. 
 Had he been prepared for this — plotted 
 for this little surprise — he would have 
 looked like that. 
 
 Mrs. Gladwell was not prepared, or she 
 acted better. She sprang to her feet, ran 
 into a corner of the room as if afraid, 
 then her strength failed her, and she
 
 2i6 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 tottered back to her chair with a white 
 face and quivering Hps, and burst into tears. 
 
 ' Gertrude !' she exclaimed, ^ what — what 
 is the matter V 
 
 ' I have come back to the world again/ 
 was Mrs. Faremouth's reply ; * don't be 
 afraid of me, Lavinia. God has been very 
 good to me, as I told Miss Reeves 
 yesterday.' 
 
 ' Yesterday ! Then my sister did speak 
 to you, Miss Reeves, when you went to her 
 room V exclaimed Mrs. Gladwell through her 
 sobs. 
 
 Muriel shook her head, but left Mrs. 
 Faremouth to explain the second meeting 
 between them ; but that eccentric lady did 
 not condescend to exonerate our heroine 
 from the charge of duplicity. Muriel did 
 not wish to take part in the discussion — 
 there would come a time for explanation
 
 SUSPICIONS 217 
 
 presently, she thought, recking not of the 
 rush of events that was to sweep it away. 
 She would have been glad to escape, and, 
 indeed, she half rose with that intention,"- 
 when Mrs. Faremouth said hurriedly : 
 ^ Don't go. I wish you to stay.' 
 James Gladwell moved uneasily at her 
 remark, and his wife dried her tears and 
 looked hard at Muriel. 
 
 ' I wish Miss Reeves to remain for a 
 while,' said Mrs. Faremouth. 
 
 * My dear Gertrude, I think Miss Reeves 
 is acting very wisely in oflfering to withdraw. 
 This is purely a family affair,' remarked 
 James Gladwell. 
 
 ' I wish her to stay,' Gertrude Faremouth 
 said, almost peremptorily ; ' for your sake 
 and my sister's.' 
 
 * For our sakes ?' her brother-in-law said, 
 elevating his eyebrows.
 
 2i8 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK ' 
 
 * Yes,' she replied ; ' so that she may not 
 receive a false impression of what is happen- 
 ing around us. So that she may not think 
 I have been acting a part, or that you two 
 have been treating me unkindly.' 
 
 ' Oh, Miss Reeves will not think so badly 
 of us as that,' James Glad well said, with a 
 laugh, as at a something very preposterous, 
 but it was evident he was relieved in mind 
 by his sister-in-law's statement. 
 
 Mrs. Gladwell continued to regard her 
 sister with amazement. Had Mrs. Fare- 
 mouth risen from the dead, Mrs. Gladwell 
 would have worn the same expression of 
 fear and wonderment commingled ; it was 
 to her so great a mystery — a woman coming 
 back unto herself out of the dark, and into 
 the old strange world — after all the long 
 years, and the prophecies of experts that 
 the woman could get no better, that it
 
 SUSPICIONS 219 
 
 was physically impossible, and that the mind 
 of Gertrude Faremouth must for ever re- 
 main an utter blank. And here she was 
 almost as young and fair as ever, with the 
 old, steady, searching gaze that Lavinia had 
 known before to-day ; and with the light of 
 life — which is of reason when it burns 
 steadily — upon her countenance. In very 
 truth a miracle, all this ; what was the cause 
 of it ? whispered Mrs. Gladwell to herself 
 What was to become of them ? 
 
 Mrs. Faremouth continued. She spoke 
 gravely and calmly ; there was an entire 
 absence of the nervousness which Muriel 
 had remarked during the visit to her last 
 night. Mrs. Faremouth was judicial by 
 contrast. Muriel could scarcely reconcile 
 this self-possessed young woman with the 
 excited beinof who had stolen to her room 
 only a few hours ago. But Mrs. Fare-
 
 220 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 mouth's next words seemed to throw a light 
 upon the situation. 
 
 ' Miss Reeves has relieved my mind 
 suddenly from a great weight — one supreme 
 delusion/ she said, 'which has weighed me 
 down so long. You know, both of you. 
 Possibly it has been part of my madness 
 from which no words of yours could cure 
 me — only that young lady's there. I am 
 deeply grateful — it is God's mercy that she 
 should have stepped into the breach.' 
 
 Was Gertrude mad, after all — still mad ? 
 — thought the sister ; and was this only a 
 new phase of it ? God forgive her, but 
 she should be glad in her heart if it were 
 so. She could not help that, knowing what 
 would follow her younger sister's sanity. 
 
 * What has Miss Reeves done ?' inquired 
 the brother-in-law, very much interested 
 now.
 
 SUSPICIONS 221 
 
 ' She has proved to me that Claude is 
 alive.* 
 
 Husband and wife looked at Muriel, then 
 at each other. This Muriel Reeves was in 
 the plot, then, and it was not mere chance 
 that had brought her to Rossendale. 
 
 ' I have thought Claude dead so long,' 
 said Mrs. Faremouth, ' and that there was 
 no hope for me in life after he had been 
 snatched from me — that life was not worth 
 praying for afterwards.' 
 
 * You are a friend of Claude Faremouth's,' 
 said Mr. Gladwell, regarding Muriel very 
 critically, ' and have not offered us a word 
 in explanation.' 
 
 ' I saw Mr. Faremouth for the first time 
 last evening,' Muriel answered. ^ For the 
 first time I learned that he had been for 
 years a friend of Mr. Toope's — that is the 
 simple explanation, sir.'
 
 222 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 * But you told Mrs. Faremouth that her 
 husband was alive,' said Mrs. Gladwell 
 breathlessly ; ' when and where did the 
 opportunity present itself for you to impart 
 that information V 
 
 * I saw my husband leave the house last 
 night,' said Mrs. Faremouth, before Muriel 
 could reply. 'I was thunderstruck, over- 
 whelmed, perhaps, for an instant, more than 
 I have ever been. But the shock was 
 salvation to me — gave me my new strength. 
 When the house was still — thinking that 
 you and Lavinia might have been in a plot 
 against me — I crept upstairs to Miss Reeves's 
 room to seek advice, even protection, if it 
 were necessary. And hers was only a simple 
 truth that made all things — I hope and 
 pray it has — very clear to me at last. God 
 be praised for it, Lavinia ! Oh ! James, 
 shall we pray ?'
 
 SUSPICIONS 223 
 
 No, not quite sane, thought Mr. Glad- 
 well, to propose prayer at so inopportune a 
 moment. People who prayed at odd times 
 and seasons were never quite sane, was Mr. 
 Gladwell's firm conviction. He had tried 
 the experiment himself once or twice in 
 certain crises of his career, but it had never 
 answered satisfactorily. 
 
 * I — I don't think we will disturb Provi- 
 dence with any prayers at present, Gertrude. 
 The girl will clear away the dessert in a 
 minute or two, and she would be so very 
 much in the way. Don't you think so, fairy V 
 
 Fairy ! Mrs. Faremouth started. It 
 was the old title by which Gladwell and his 
 wife used to address her in the old days, 
 before the trouble came, as if in pleasant 
 mimicry of Claude, who had so suddenly 
 passed away from her. 
 
 And that had not been explained either.
 
 224 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 Why had Claude kept away from her all 
 this weary time, when his return to her 
 might have wrought the miracle of her re- 
 turn to sanity years earlier than this ? Oh, 
 the dark waste of the purposeless years ! 
 
 ' There is so much to ask,' Gertrude Fare- 
 mouth said, betraying a little bewilderment 
 for the first time, and looking from one to 
 the other as if for moral and material sup- 
 port. ^ When — when did you know of 
 Claude's safety — you two ?' 
 
 She had turned to her sister at last, but 
 it was the husband who replied, with no 
 small alacrity. 
 
 ' Yesterday, for the first time, I thought 
 it was possible,' he said. ^ It was on the 
 sands that I saw someone like Claude step 
 from the boat with Mr. Toope.' 
 
 * Did he — but I shall see him soon — in a 
 few hours. He can best explain. God
 
 SUSPICIONS 225 
 
 bless him ! God bless him !' she repeated. 
 ' And he's coming back to me.' 
 
 * God bless us ! yes/ said Mr. Gladwell, a 
 little dismally. 
 
 * He will come to-night, I hope,' she 
 murmured. 
 
 ' Yes, it is more than possible,' said Mr. 
 Gladwell. 
 
 ' Does he know that his wife is alive, 
 within a few miles of him V thought Muriel. 
 It was scarcely probable that he did. But 
 Muriel held her peace. She would not in- 
 trude upon the conversation if she could 
 help it. There was time before her, she 
 thought, hopefully still ; it would all come 
 right, like the finis to a pleasant story-book. 
 
 ' Gertrude,' said Lavinia, suddenly and 
 impulsively, * my heart rejoices indeed to 
 think that you are getting well and strong. 
 I have so much to tell you — why we are 
 
 VOL. I. 15
 
 226 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 here, why we came from America, what the 
 doctors advised, how my own health broke 
 down ; oh, I have so much to say !' 
 
 ' Ahem ! yes,' said Mr. Gladwell, with a 
 cough. ' We have, indeed, a long story to 
 relate to-morrow.' 
 
 * To-morrow V repeated Mrs. Fare- 
 mouth. 
 
 ' Yes ; let us begin the new life — to- 
 gether, all of us — with the new day,' said 
 he, more cheerfully. ^ You have been tried 
 too much already, Gertrude. You must be 
 very careful. You must not be excited 
 further. Another night's rest before we 
 relate our sad, eventful history. Nothing 
 more to-night but peace for all of us ; and 
 prayer, of course, later on,' he added, as a 
 happy thought which he was sure would 
 please his sister-in-law. 
 
 ' Yes ; we must be grateful, and we must
 
 SUSPICIONS 227 
 
 show our gratitude/ said Mrs. Faremouth. 
 ' I was a religious woman, was I not, before 
 the affliction came to me ? I am sure that 
 I shall be so again.' 
 
 * I am sure you will,' said Lavinia con- 
 fidently. 
 
 ' I have been getting slowly well for the 
 last week or two, I think, now,' said Mrs. 
 Faremouth musingly. ' I have seemed to 
 take interest in passing things, by fits and 
 starts. I have grown curious and watchful, 
 and there were times when all the past inci- 
 dents seemed easy to recall.' 
 
 * You made no sign to us,' said Lavinia. 
 
 ' I thought I would not, for awhile,' the 
 younger sister replied ; ^ but the sight of 
 Claude has scattered my poor plans.' 
 
 * Plans!' replied James Gladwell mus- 
 ingly. 
 
 ' Yes ; I confess that I did not trust you
 
 228 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 both at first; it was wicked of me, but I 
 could not help it/ she confessed. 
 
 James Gladwell considered also that it 
 was uncommonly wicked of her to have had 
 such thoughts as a start-off to her new 
 career, but he simply shook his head by way 
 of mild reproof 
 
 His thoughts even turned in a new direc- 
 tion, for he said suddenly : 
 
 ' Miss Muriel, you are looking dreadfully 
 tired.' 
 
 ^ I am not tired, but the room is very 
 hot,' said Muriel. 
 
 * Family matters — ours, of which you 
 know not anything — cannot really interest 
 you,' said Lavinia. ^ Perhaps Mrs. Fare- 
 mouth will excuse you now?' 
 
 Gertrude Faremouth looked across at 
 Muriel quickly, even with a sudden sense of 
 alarm shining from the depths of her great
 
 SUSPICIONS 229 
 
 blue eyes, Muriel thought a little later on; 
 but she answered: 
 
 * No, no ; don't let me detain you, Miss 
 Reeves. You're looking faint ; are you not 
 
 well r 
 
 ' The room — is — hot,' said Muriel again ; 
 * if I could get a breath of fresh air — for a 
 short time — it would do me good.' 
 
 * Pray go for a little walk,' urged Mrs. 
 Gladwell ; * you have not been out since 
 breakfast.' 
 
 'No.' 
 
 * How inconsiderate of me, to be sure !' 
 exclaimed the mistress ; ' and I, who know 
 the value of fresh air so well ! Will you go 
 out, or have a long rest in your own room V 
 she asked. 
 
 ' I think I will go out for a little while,' 
 said Muriel. 
 
 Mr. Gladwell did not offer any objection
 
 230 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 or suggestion. He was sitting with folded 
 arms, staring straight before him at the 
 opposite wall. But as Muriel went out of 
 the room she looked back at him instinc- 
 tively, and his eyes were following her, and 
 had a strange light in them, she fancied. 
 Ah, she was full of fancies ! The house 
 was strange, strange people were in it, and 
 she should grow strange with the rest of 
 them, if she were not mindful of herself. 
 Let her get into the open, and feel the sea- 
 breeze upon her heated face, and be con- 
 scious of being free of Rossendale for half 
 an hour, at least. The atmosphere was 
 oppressive, the Gladwells and Mrs. Fare- 
 mouth were more oppressive still, and she 
 was glad to have leave of absence extended 
 to her for awhile. Yes, she had been 
 indoors too long. She was feeling faint, 
 and she was growing a terribly suspicious
 
 SUSPICIONS 231 
 
 woman, which she had never been before 
 she came to Wales. 
 
 Ten minutes later Muriel Keeves was 
 clear of Rossendale, and making for the 
 parade as fast as her feet could carry her. 
 To see the sea, to feel the freshness and 
 coldness of the sea-breeze upon her, was a 
 craving for which she could hardly account. 
 That she was alone, and unescorted, and 
 pretty, did not occur to her ; one of a large 
 family, with a lover abroad, she had been 
 left to herself a good deal, and grown 
 confident accordingly. She was a young 
 woman who knew how to take care of her- 
 self, self-reliant, and brave. 
 
 And she had had trust in her fellow- 
 creatures — had never been in any way a 
 suspicious girl until this hateful Rossendale 
 submerged her. Did suspicion come upon a 
 poor little body with such rapid strides ? she
 
 232 THE WOMAN IN THE DARK 
 
 wondered — never taking into consideration 
 that her own natural clear-sightedness had 
 warned her that all was not fair sailing with 
 the Gladwells and the young fair woman 
 who had laid aside her madness like a cloak. . 
 Hers had been an every-day but not un- 
 happy life until she had come to Great 
 Storn s Head, and then, presto ! here was 
 she in the thick of romance and incident. 
 Wonderful Wales, that had surrounded her 
 with mystery, and brought Oliver Toope to 
 her feet again, and all within four-and-twenty 
 hours ! 
 
 She would have been very happy now — 
 thanks to thoughts of Oliver, especially — she 
 would have smiled even at the mysteries, 
 she thought, if she had not grown dreadfully 
 distrustful. 
 
 That was the worst of it ; that was a 
 difficulty she could not readily surmount ;
 
 SUSPICIONS 233 
 
 a question of nerves probably, but vexatious 
 and a little irritating, or — grim thought this 
 for a girl like Muriel — was there a foreknow- 
 ledge of something to come, a shadow before, 
 that oppressed her, gave extra throbs to her 
 heart, filled her with a sudden sense of awe? 
 Why should she have whispered in her ears 
 again the two words she had listened to last 
 night, and that had sounded like a wail of 
 despair : 
 
 ' Tell Claude /' 
 
 * I will go back to Rossendale !' she ex- 
 claimed in the impulse of her new fear ; 
 *all is not well there, or safe. I am sure of it.' 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 BILLING A>1) S0X3, PRINTERS, GUILDKORD.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILUNOIS-URBANA 
 
 illllllli 
 
 3 0112 039885188 
 
 nniiinmni 
 
 'ill' ii 
 1,1 1/111 
 
 \ 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 :i' 
 
 
 :i« 
 
 m