Part 15

"Let's have it, at any rate," I said. "We've left right and wrong so far behind, now, that they're quite out of sight."

"If Leah has even thought of it enough to propose it, I'll take my chances on its being justifiable," Joy added.

"Here it is, then," said Leah. "You want to know what the doctor is doing with Edna and to Edna, don't you?"

"That's it," said Joy.

"Then why not pretend to be Edna when he comes?"

"By Jove!" I cried. "There's an idea!"

"But I couldn't possibly do it!" Joy objected.

Leah explained further. "Mr. Castle and I will teach you. We have all night before us, and we'll have to stay up, anyway, to make sure that it is _you_ who meets the doctor. During that time you can learn your part. It will be hard work, but I know you can do it."

"It will at least keep us awake," Joy smiled at last.

"And then, early in the morning, you, as Edna, can telephone to him and ask him to come down."

"He'll come," I said. "He'll be only too glad to find that Edna has had two days running."

Joy began to enter into the humor of the situation. "I'll not have to make up for the part, at least, shall I? And Edna's costumes will fit me. But do you think I can really do it?"

I was convinced that she could. "When you think that he will be predisposed to find you Edna, and how little cause he has to suspect such impersonation, and moreover how much more like you Edna is becoming, I think that there's very little risk," I said. "The best part of the plan is that after it's over the doctor is likely to go back and he'll be safely out of the way for my experiment."

"Oh, your experiment! How it terrifies me! What are we doing to that poor girl? What possible crime am I consenting to?" Joy broke down again.

Leah put her hand on Joy's arm and looked at her. "You'll do it for my sake, Miss Joy?" she pleaded. I knew well enough that she was not urging her own danger, despite her words. She was desirous only of Joy's peace--but her words had their effect.

"And for mine," I saw fit to add. The double appeal stilled Joy's protest.

We began, therefore, to instruct Joy in her part, and I think that she learned more of her secondary self that night than she had known in all the rest of her life put together. It was not easy for her, at first, to abandon herself to the character, and assume the gaucherie that was typical of Edna. It was hardest of all to do what, indeed, I was loath to teach her, the little coquetries and familiarities which I imagined Edna to be in the habit of lavishing upon the doctor. But there was a humor, as well as a pathos, in the play, and occasionally the fun of it overthrew our seriousness.

So we went over and over the plot that night. Edna's languishing glances, Edna's awkward poses and active gestures, Edna's quick speech and obvious sallies, her impatient, pettish whims, all were rehearsed. Joy, becoming gradually interested in doing her best, threw herself into the attempt. Her mimicry of Edna was a strangely confusing sight--it was like one mirror reflected in another. I took the doctor's part, going through the motions of hypnotizing her, teaching her how to resist while simulating sleep, how to reply, how to awaken from the trance. I prepared her for every complication that I could think of, not forgetting Edna's characteristic treatment of Leah--and I think that this part of her acting did more than anything else, through her indignation, to stimulate her to do her best on the morrow.

Besides all this, she was to do whatever occurred to her at the moment, taking her cue from the doctor. She had, I impressed upon her, always the resource at hand of a pretended fainting fit, after which she might plausibly awaken in her real character as Joy. In any case, I surmised that her failure to enact the part consistently would be attributed by him to her primary self's partial projection into consciousness. And, after all, there were, of course, many points of resemblance between the two women, and with moderate care, he would never suspect that she was feigning. It would scarcely have been possible for Edna to have taken the character of Joy.

It was nearly dawn before we felt that we had gone far enough to be willing to risk her facility; and then, to freshen ourselves up, we went outdoors. The air was cool and invigorating; it was a beautiful night of stars and cloud. About the house the trees waved and rustled. The mass of woods across the garden was black in shadow. I smelt mint mingled with violets.

I took her arm, but it was she who guided me through the obscurity, knowing every inch of the way through long acquaintance. The dogs awoke and growled as we passed the stable, but instantly relapsed into silence as if aware of the presence of friends. A horse whinnied in his stall. We climbed the hill, Joy feeling for the concavity of the path with sensitive feet and leading me on; and at the top we sat down, wrapped a shawl about our shoulders and waited for the day to break. We could hear the dogs barking far away. The second crowing of cocks sent challenges from one distant farm to another; infinitely remote a railway whistle sounded. After an hour the twittering of birds began, at first in occasional chirps, and finally in a chorus of matutinal gossip. The sky in the east grew pink, then, through red and orange and yellow, to a pale straw color. The limb of the sun pushed through the sea, freed itself from the horizon and floated up and up, flooding the country with light.

We walked back to the house, rejuvenated by the fresh air, and had our baths and hot coffee which Leah had ready for us. Joy was full of spirit and courage. The lines about her eyes were softened and her whole figure and bearing expressed determination. At eight o'clock she said:

"Well, let's ring up the curtain. I must begin the play. It's time to telephone. I'm going to tell the first lie I've told, I think, for months. You've no idea how unnecessary it has been down here. I'm afraid I've almost forgotten how to be a woman."

She got the doctor, and after a short conversation he promised to come down to Midmeadows on a train that would land him at the house at ten o'clock. We went over the day's campaign at the breakfast-table, and I gave her my last instructions. At nine o'clock Uncle Jerdon drove up, and I got into the carriage to go to the station, bidding her good-by, for his benefit.

The old man was loquacious as usual, but offered nothing in regard to affairs at Midmeadows. He commented upon the crops and the state of every farm we passed, without ever touching upon Miss Fielding's condition. If this were his custom with every one, no man could be safer to have about the premises, but I had an idea he was more communicative with the doctor. At any rate, it had seemed best to me to make him believe that I was going up to town.

I had already prepared the plan by which I was to outwit them both. The up-train came into the station first, while the down-train waited on a siding for it to pass. All I had to do was to bid Uncle Jerdon good-by, get into the smoking-car, and, as it pulled out, drop off the step and dodge quickly behind a woodpile beside the track. Here I waited, peeping over the top till the down-train had gone and I saw Doctor Copin get into the carriage to drive off with Uncle Jerdon. Then I walked leisurely back to Midmeadows, went into the cabin and waited with what patience I could.

I had to stay from ten till two o'clock, before I saw the carriage go back with its passenger. That wait had been long, but it was not so anxious a time as I had spent before, for I knew that Joy would be quite able to cope with the situation. But I was relieved to see the carriage go back, and left the cabin the moment the vehicle was out of sight.

I had gone only half-way up the lane when I saw Joy coming to meet me. She looked tired and pale. She ran to my arms and kissed me.

"Oh, he's infamous!" she cried. "I never would have believed it of him!"

"He didn't suspect you, then?" I asked anxiously.

"Suspect? No, he was too busy with his own machinations for that. Chester, if you had been there, I think you would have killed him! And I acted--how I acted! I got more and more in a rage, and I led him on with every bit of cunning I had till I had found out his worst. Oh, it was vile!"

I tried to hide my own rising fury. "What happened?" I demanded.

"Oh, I _can't_ tell you! Let me try to forget it! He did everything that we have suspected, and more! I let him borrow money of me--I permitted his familiarities and his vulgarity as long as I could endure it--I listened to all his schemes. Why, Chester, d'you know, he is trying to destroy me, and make _her_ take my place permanently? He hasn't a scruple! He's after my money, and, worst of all, after _me_! It's incredible. Oh, if you can't outwit him, I'm lost!"

"There's only one sure way, now, to foil him, Joy. You must marry me this afternoon!"

"I thought of that, too," she said, "and I think I'm ready. This forenoon has opened my eyes to the danger. If you say so, we'll go over to the Harbor. Oh, Chester, can you really marry such a mutilated, enslaved person as I am?"

"I am going to free you," I said, still holding her close.

"And Edna--" she broke away to look at me fearfully. "What will you do with Edna?"

"To-morrow there will, I hope, no longer be such a person."

"Then shan't we wait till to-morrow?"

"You forget," I said, "that, at his first opportunity, it is possible for _him_ to marry _her_! The risk is too great!"

"That settles it--come to the house and we'll get Leah!"

My hopes reached to the skies, then, and I was sure that I could conquer anything and everything that stood between me and the fulfilment of her rescue. With the surrender, she, too, gave herself up completely to the occasion. We took hands and raced up the lane like two children. In that moment I got a fresh glimpse of what sort of person Joy really was, when she was free. Edna's galumphing was not more gay and abandoned, Edna's laugh never rang out more merrily. When we burst into the house I think that Leah, for a moment, thought we had both gone mad.

We did not even wait for Uncle Jerdon to return with the carriage. I went out to see that my motor-car was in order, while Joy, laughing with Leah so gaily that I could hear them even from the stable, prepared for the trip.

Joy threw up her window, to call out: "Chester, I want that little chain Edna gave you! I must have 'something old and something new, something borrowed, something blue'!" I knew, then, that the last trace of feeling at that incident had disappeared.

She came down all in white--hat, veil, gown, gloves, stockings, shoes, parasol. Leah, too, was dressed for the occasion, modestly, as usual; for, though she could well have carried off a modish toilet, she always shrank from being in the least conspicuous, as if fearing to compromise Joy by appearing to assume a social equality. She was in a frock of ecru linen, just severe enough in its trim design to keep her place with Joy's bewitching laces and flounces and chiffon. I myself made a sorry-looking bridegroom, I fear, for I had found something to do under the belly of my machine, and the employment did the only costume I had little good.

So, bidding King good-by, we were off with enthusiasm. Even Leah had caught the infection of our high spirits--for a moment the tension had been let down all along the line. Leah had, indeed, much reason to be happy. She had implicit confidence in my ability to frustrate the doctor's plans, she saw herself now safe with Joy, she anticipated for her mistress a new beatitude. Under the influence of this, I noticed that she lapsed, for the first time in my experience, partly into a negro dialect. It was the more remarkable and significant because I had seen her under the stress of fear and horror, and neither had affected her speech. It showed me how rare perfect happiness had been in her life, that this glint of joy should break the bonds of her speech and unloose the tongue of her girlhood. Both Joy and I laughed freely at her, and she herself laughed with us.

We raced madly for the Harbor, sought the Methodist minister there, went into his cool prim front parlor, were introduced to his wife--who had that day enough to gossip about, I'll warrant--and the thing was done in ten minutes. Then we piled happily into the car and pelted home.

Joy looked at me with new eyes. "You've done it, haven't you?"

"You bet I have!"

"How did you ever manage it! I thought I had refused you!"

"I don't understand it myself. It just happened. It had to be."

"You ought to be a highwayman!"

"It's partly _your_ fault, you know!"

"And I've known you only a month! How reckless! It must have been that incorrigible, irresistible, unexpected, unkissed nick in your chin! I've gone from new moon to full, at a bound! Now I'm a bride-rampant: I could fight my way to you through eight miles of jungle! Was I pretty, Leah?" She turned and held out her hand.

"'Deed you _were_, Miss Joy, honey, I never see you' beat!"

How she laughed! "And you were the sweetest bridesmaid, too! See her eyes, Chester, _please_ look round! Never mind if we do run into a tree, to-day. Did you ever see such hidden depths of gold as are beneath her eyes? Isn't that color and outline perfect? There's no wildfire or heroics about Leah, but she's got more brains than both of us put together! And she's got a southern accent now, that you couldn't dissipate with an electric battery. Leah, you're as beautiful as a jaguar! Can't you go faster, chauffeur, dear? I'd rather eat flypaper than ride in a slow automobile! Say, it's awfully stimulating to get married, isn't it? I'm going to do it all the time, after this."

I leaned over to kiss her, and we nearly ran into the depot-wagon on its way from the train. We were followed by two dozen eyes till we were hidden by a turn of the road.

So her brain coined as we sped along, shrieking with laughter. But Joy's frolic mood subsided as we approached Midmeadows. She looked at me plaintively and said:

"The idea of the White Cat's being married before she's had her head and tail cut off!"

"Oh, that'll be done before you know it!" I said. "What I'm thinking is that now Doctor Copin will never be allowed at Midmeadows again, if I have to keep him out by force. With him out of the way, we can manage the rest. But no more of that now. It's our wedding day! We ought to have told King to bake a cake!"

We had quieted down enough by supper-time to talk the matter over calmly and plan for to-morrow. The time had, queerly enough, more the effect of parting than the beginning of a new and happy life. Joy grew wistful and _distraite_ as the evening wore on. I would not let her talk of "the murder," as she called it, and I tried to keep her mind from returning to the mystery of Edna's presence. Finally she said:

"Chester, I'd like to send her a message. Just think, I've never had any communication with her!"

"It will do no good," I replied.

"It will do no harm," she insisted. "I may never have another chance. I'm going to write a note for you to give her, if she comes to-morrow. Will you?"

I said that of course I would, and she sat down at her secretary and, after thinking a few minutes, biting her pen, she wrote this:

DEAR EDNA:--What has brought us together we can never know. But it is terrible to me to think that, being so closely and mysteriously related, we could not have been friends. For all you have done to me and mine, I forgive you, and somewhere and somehow I hope that you will forgive me for everything I have done to you.

JOY FIELDING.

It was the first specimen I had happened to see of Joy's handwriting, and was, as she had said, quite different from Edna's. It was bold and flowing, sharply slanted and graceful, the hand of a fast writer and a quick thinker. I put the note into my pocket to give to-morrow to Edna. I should but pass it back to the same hands that had written it, it would be read by the same eyes that saw it now--but I could guess with what scorn and anger it would be received.

Joy bade me good night with a tremor in her voice, gave me a long, clinging kiss, and looked up into my eyes.

"I'm not really your wife yet, you know, Chester," she said.

"'Come slowly, Eden,'" I quoted.

"And I may never be--" The tears filled her eyes.

"Do you think I shall fail, after to-day?" I said.

"I still have my revolver, if you do. Remember the White Cat, and your promise!"

"That's a sad thought for a wedding-night! I'm going to save you!"

"Poor Edna!" she said, releasing herself. Then, as if she thought it unwifely to leave me sorrowful, she flashed a smile at me, waved her hand, and ran up-stairs.

*III*

I have said so much of my "plan" that it is now quite time to explain it, for it was of the simplest. Many of the recorded cases of multiple personality, or rather, according to a more modern interpretation of the state, dissociated personality, had arisen, I found, from a shock, sometimes purely physical, sometimes mental. It was my idea that in Miss Fielding's case the process might be reversed--that I might inhibit her secondary self by some violent excitement. A long process of hypnotic treatment might, I knew, effect a cure more or less stable, but the doctor's superior knowledge and, heretofore, his superior advantages, had made me doubt of succeeding in that way. To take her to any competent specialist was inexpedient, for the reason that we should meet with a steady opposition from Edna, who could do much to make such a course impossible.

The means I intended to employ were, I must confess, brutal; I intended to frighten Edna to within an inch of her life--to frighten her, that is, so that she might be afraid to reappear. This explanation is superficial, but it conveys the idea; what really would happen, I thought, was that Joy would "wake up" and resume permanently her normal condition. I was not competent to explain the rationale of it; I trusted, in a way, to the mere reversion of the processes that had been described in similar cases of disintegrated personalities.

Exactly how to accomplish this end I was not yet decided, save that I had prepared myself with a pair of revolvers and blank cartridges; I left the actual operation to the inspiration of the moment, taking advantage of the circumstances. I knew that the mental shock must be severe, and that the tension should be prolonged almost to the breaking point. In some way or other it would come to threatening her life. In my mind it was like deliberately breaking a badly-set bone that it might heal again aright. So desperate a remedy I had not wanted to describe to Joy, nor did I ever expect to tell her, even should her cure be effected.

Of the cruelty to Edna, I had no thought. I knew no other way of accomplishing what I desired, and my sympathies, naturally, were entirely with Joy. She alone, surely, had a right to exist in that fair body. Seeing that I could not settle the ethical considerations involved, and that they only impaired my will, I cast them aside. I offer no other excuse for my conduct. It seemed expedient, in fact the only thing that would be effectual, in ridding my wife of her incubus. If it were wrong, well, I would take the blame. I have never been able to settle the question in my own mind, even yet.

She slept late the next morning. I was down-stairs when she rang for Leah, and so heard nothing, but it was no surprise to me when, a few minutes later, Leah came down and said:

"It's Edna."

The fight was on. I was now prepared to undertake (as it would certainly seem to a spectator) to torture my wife of a day half to death. I shall not attempt to describe my own feelings as I anticipated the prospect.

"Has she tried to telephone?" I asked. My voice, I imagine, was now like that of a surgeon at an operation asking his assistant for a knife.

"No," said Leah.

"Hurry up, then. You must manage to overhear what she says, if possible. I must know whether the doctor's coming or not. Have you sent Uncle Jerdon away?"

"He's harnessing up to go to the Harbor, and he'll be gone all the forenoon."

"Good."

She went into the kitchen and prepared Edna's breakfast, while I crept up-stairs and listened to hear in case she telephoned. As soon as Leah went up with the breakfast tray, I went down again and walked into the kitchen.

"King," I said, looking square at the Chinaman, "to-day I'm going to drive the devil out of Miss Fielding. You sabbee?"

He grinned very good-naturedly. "Yep, I sabbee," he answered, paring his potatoes calmly.

"Maybe I make heap noise. You sabbee?"

"Yep, I sabbee!" again.

"You no mind me, King? You not be frightened?"

He laughed and said: "Aw, no! I no care. Maybe I come help. I sabbee debbil all light!"

"No, I won't need your help, King. I can do it alone, I think. All I want, you stay here, and not be frightened."

"Aw, I no flighten'. What's a-matter? You no think so?"

"Well, you don't know anything about it. Sabbee? You must keep quiet, sure."

"Oh, I sabbee all light. Maybe somebody ask me, I say, 'I not know!' I sabbee. I say, 'You go-to-hell!' he-he!" He laughed to himself. "You heap good man, you all light, sure. Dlive away debbil, tha's all. Wha's a-matter? You no sabbee me? Aw?" He turned away in scorn at my distrust.

I was pretty sure that I could trust to his imperturbability, and returned to the library satisfied, leaving King still chuckling inanely to himself.

In a moment Leah came down again and said hurriedly to me: