Part 7

She took it up again with a new courage. "As I've said, I don't know when Leah left. I only know that when I rang for her yesterday morning she didn't come. I went into her room and she wasn't there. She wasn't down-stairs. King didn't know anything about it."

"Nor Uncle Jerdon?"

"Uncle Jerdon has been away for three days, visiting his nephew, who's ill. You see, she--the other one--was here for two days running. It hasn't happened so for years. So whether it happened, whatever did happen, on Monday or Tuesday, I can't tell. Leah might have left either day."

"How do you know that 'the other one' was here for two days?"

"Only because Sunday is the last thing I remember before yesterday morning. The doctor was down then. You know that there's a hiatus when she's here--a perfect blank in my memory. I lose time, as she does, when I'm here."

Her mention of the doctor started a new train of thought, but I put that by for the present, to tell her of the letter I had received from Leah, which made it probable that she had left on Tuesday, the second day of "the other one." The situation was serious enough, I was sure, for me to disobey Leah's injunction to secrecy.

"Oh," said Joy, "that relieves my mind a little. It shows that Leah had a plan, and she must have stayed somewhere near here, expecting you, though how she happened to miss you, I don't see. It's quite right for you to have told me, for I had already telephoned to you--to-day, after you started. I was surprised to see you appear so soon, for that reason. I was at my wits' end yesterday, but I hated to drag you into this. But what could I do? Doctor Copin has gone out of town for a few days."

"I'm glad you sent for me," I said. "I shan't have to feel that I'm intruding. But now the question is, why doesn't Leah come back? Why didn't she wait for me at the station?"

"She must have been awfully frightened, to have gone away like this," Joy said.

"Perhaps _she_ discharged her--I know she complained of Leah a good deal."

"Yes, I've thought of that. But I fear it's even worse."

"In any case, there's no reason why she shouldn't come back, now that 'the other one' has disappeared," I said.

"How can Leah tell?" Joy exclaimed. "How will she know whether it is I or 'the other one'? We're really the same person, outwardly. There's no difference that she could recognize unless she talked to me. That's what has terrified me."

Then, for the first time, I saw the dilemma. How, indeed, could Leah know? The same woman, the same clothes--but yet, how different! "Have you no sign?" I asked. "Haven't you ever arranged it with Leah so that she can tell?"

"Oh, not for a case like this. It has never been necessary. You see, the change always comes at night, at least always during sleep, so that when I wake up she can tell right off, by asking me what I'll have for breakfast. We've arranged it so that I shall always give a fanciful reply, and let _her_ give an obvious commonplace one. But now, Leah daren't come in, for she knows that if I should happen to be 'the other one,' there'll be the same terrible something that happened before--a quarrel, or worse."

"Still, there are some apparent differences. You dress differently, it seems to me. You usually wear white. Won't Leah know by her experience of you both?"

"Oh, no; you can't tell. _She's_ so whimsical--sometimes she'll do one thing, and sometimes another, like a child. You can't depend on her. She's tricky, too."

"I could tell, I'm sure--by your eyes. Hers are darker, and the pupils are dilated, aren't they, usually?"

"Yes--but Leah daren't come near enough for that, don't you see? Oh, she must be in agony, poor girl! But how do I know? She may be dead!"

"You forget that she has written to me since leaving."

"Oh, yes--that is a relief. But I may have hurt her."

"Oh, Joy! Don't say _you_ could have--it was not you, it was Edna."

"Well, how can I tell whether or not I'm responsible?"

"I don't think she would have struck her," I said.

"No? She did once, though. She stabbed Leah with a carving-tool on the wrist. It always sickens me to see that scar. Oh, she has a temper! Poor Leah!"

She lay back on the cushions again and closed her eyes. Her hand had relaxed in mine.

I looked at her, so wearied and pale, and said softly:

"You just drop off to sleep for a little while, and I'll think it over--"

She nerved her body, and pulled herself up.

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "I'm dying for sleep, but don't you see I can't? If I should fall asleep who would it be that would awake? It might be _she_."

"By Jove!" I cried, "I hadn't thought of that!"

"I've thought of nothing else. That's why I've stayed up and kept awake while I am so exhausted. If Leah comes back, she must find me here, and not 'the other one.' I must see her and find out what has happened--we must arrange for everything and decide what plan to adopt to circumvent _her_. Oh, I _must_ keep awake!" Even as she spoke her head dropped again heavily.

"You can't tell, then, when the change is likely to come?"

"Sometimes I have a feeling--a premonition--like that night, don't you remember, when I was so blue? I knew that I was going to change. But usually I can't tell. _She_ has come lately, about two days in the seven, but irregularly. It's almost always after a deep, heavy sleep. You remember how late _she_ used to lie abed? That's what worries me now. I'm absolutely exhausted, and if I do fall asleep, I'll go down deep. So deep, I'm afraid, that I'll change. Can you think what a horror that is to me? I must stay up till Leah comes. You must promise to keep me awake by every means in your power. But even then, what are we going to do? How can we arrange a way for Leah to get along with her?"

"That's where I come into the game," I said. "I think I can solve that problem."

"How did you get on with her?" Joy asked timidly. It was quite as if she were asking about another woman, and feared to commit an impertinence. "Do you like her?" she added.

"She's not to be compared to you, of course. But there's much that's likable about her, and at least, we get on beautifully. And so we shall this time, if she'll only let me stay. That's the difficulty."

"Oh, _she'll_ let you stay, she'll be only too glad. She likes you, Leah says." Her brows drew together, and I wondered how much she knew.

"Well, then, I'll undertake to make her keep Leah."

"Oh, if you can do that--on any terms--we can stand it, both of us. Leah will suffer anything, I'm sure, rather than leave me."

"One thing more, then--since I must have all the information if I am to do anything--what does _she_ know?"

"About me? Nothing, I think. At least she has never been told, I mean--we've always kept it from her. She thinks she's the only one."

"I don't see how that can be possible!"

"It does seem strange; but then, you know she's mentally undeveloped. In some ways she's a mere child. And then, too, she has never known it to be any different--why should she suspect that there is another personality--that she isn't the real Joy Fielding? She's conscious that she loses time, so to speak, and she thinks it is only the fault of her memory."

I thought it over a while. Then I said: "She wouldn't say much about it to me, and so I didn't quite get her point of view. It baffles me. She must know that she does things in the lapses, even if she doesn't recall them."

"I don't know that she's even aware of that. She may think that she's unconscious, during these lapses, but most likely it is just like dreams. Even if we vaguely remember them, for a moment, we forget them, and they don't seem to have been real--or, perhaps, they're like delirium, or insane intervals, of which she has no memory. Why, a man may even be simply drunk, and not recall what he has done, and that self is, really, a different personality."

"But," I pursued, "do _you_ forget, too?"

"Yes. That is, almost always. At times I have had vague formless memories, as one has of dreams--that's about as much as this second life ever is associated with my normal one--if what I now have is the normal--how do I know even that? But I have known about the duality almost from the first, and of course Leah keeps me informed of everything that happens. You see, sometimes I'm not even aware that there _has_ been a lapse--I don't realize that it isn't just the next day. Leah tells _her_ as little as possible about me. She's easily managed and put off, usually, but somehow of late she seems to have grown stronger. She seems to be developing mentally. It frightens me a little."

"You don't think that anybody has told her, possibly?" I suggested.

"There's nobody to tell her. Of course Leah never would."

"Uncle Jerdon?"

"Oh, he thinks I'm crazy, and he never talks, anyway, I'm sure. He doesn't realize what's happening, for, after all, we're not obviously different; _she_ might be taken for me in some queer mood, I mean," she added.

"King?"

"I believe he thinks that I'm possessed of a devil. Which I think I am!" She paused to smile faintly. "Anyway, he minds his own business. I have an idea that he has a reason for wanting to keep quiet."

"Or, lastly, then, the doctor?" I put it hesitatingly, yet I wanted to know what she would say. Her answer was prompt.

"He wouldn't tell, I'm sure. Why, he wants to cure me. It would spoil all chance of that, I think, if _she_ knew."

I wasn't so sure of the doctor, after what Leah had said to me, but it would do no good, now, to mention that. She had trouble enough at present not to worry her with new doubts.

"Then, is it possible that she might have come across some evidence of you, in your writings, or something that would arouse her curiosity?"

"Oh, I think she hasn't the least suspicion. As I said, it must all seem natural enough for her to lose time--she has always done so. Everything is accounted for to her by the fact that she forgets. Of course, I am careful to hide everything that is strictly my own, anything, that is, that she would not understand. Leah keeps all my private letters under lock and key. I'm very careful, for I've been on my guard since it first began."

"How long?" I asked.

"Ever since I was thirteen. That's when she came first."

"It's incredible!" I exclaimed. "Of course, I've heard of such multiple personalities, of the celebrated ones, but they've seemed only like queer, improbable cases out of a book--monstrosities. Or I've regarded them as half-crazed or hysterical or somnambulistic. But _you_, Miss Fielding! You seem so beautifully sane, so poised, so complete--it's like a fairy tale. Oh, you are the 'White Cat'! You are under a spell!"

"It's only because I'm not a poor girl that I'm not a mere 'case,' I assure you. You don't know what a life I've led, how every physician I've had has wanted to study me, or put me in a sanatorium or a hospital or an asylum or worse. Yes, if I hadn't the money, I should probably be in a mad-house at this moment. Do you realize how easy it would be for a physician to put me there? From the ordinary point of view, I'm virtually insane part of the time. I have been in great danger, Chester. But, having some money, I have been able to get away from people and seclude myself and retain my freedom--if you call it freedom to be cheated out of part of your natural life! I have had Leah, and she was enough. She understands, she's loyal, and she is, above all, wise and good."

"But the doctor--what about him?"

"Of course I must have a physician at times, and Doctor Copin is a good one, and interested in my case. He has been most kind to me. Of course I _am_ interesting, though, psychologically, and he's probably written a monograph about me for some medical society already. But I have him chiefly for medical troubles, and to keep general run of this thing, enough to advise me."

This was rather different from what Edna had led me to believe, so I said:

"He hasn't attempted to treat you for this psychological dissociation?"

"No. He has wanted to. In fact, he's always urging me to allow him to see what he can do, but I won't let him. He wants to hypnotize me--but I don't quite dare--would you?"

"No," I said. "I'd advise you not to. If that's to be done you ought to go to a great specialist."

I thought I had a clue now that would bear following up, but I decided to think it over a while before I spoke of it.

So intently had we talked, that we had scarcely noticed the darkness which had fallen until King's gong aroused us. Joy rose wearily.

"Would you mind lighting the candles?" she said.

She waited till all the sconces were burning and then, as I went to the window, she said:

"No, leave the shades up, please! I want the windows left so that Leah, if she comes, may look in. I feel somehow that she is near here, that she will come this evening, if she dares."

"Why haven't you been out where she could see you, then? Have you thought to call her?"

She looked at me blankly. "Why, I _haven't_ thought of that, have I? But would she dare come?"

"Try it now!" I exclaimed.

"I will!" She went to the front door and threw it open and cried:

"Leah!--Leah!--Leah! Come here! It's all right. I want you, dear!"

There was enough in the scene--the stillness that ensued, the gathering mysterious twilight that shrouded the house, the tragic quaver in Joy's voice--to make me thrill to its dramatic power. She stood there for a few minutes, all in white, waiting, her hands clasped on her breast, vividly illuminated by the candles. But no sound came out of the shadows of the night.

Joy closed the door; then, with quick second thought, she returned to leave it ajar, and came back into the library.

We had moved almost to the dining-room, when, on a sudden whim, she paused, turned and looked toward the window. My own eyes followed hers. There was a dark face peering in--so dark that the whites of the eyes and the teeth were almost all that was visible, though enough to show who it was.

"_Leah!_" Joy cried, and ran again to the door, crying out hysterically. She called again, but no answer came.

It occurred to me that the excited accents of Joy's voice might well be misleading, and for the first time I thought to try myself. Joy had returned, to throw herself down, sobbing, full length upon the window-seat, her heart breaking with the suspense and disappointment. The strain was too much for her, after her hours of hope and fear. I did not stop to comfort her then, but ran to the doorway and stood in the lighted hall there in plain sight.

"Leah!" I called. "Come here, it's I--Mr. Castle. I want you!"

There was still no reply, but, feeling sure that Leah must be near at hand, I started off vaguely in the dark. I had gone but to the turn of the lane when I heard footsteps, running. Then in a rush Leah was upon me, and had seized my hand.

"Oh, Mr. Castle! I'm so glad you've come--but I was afraid to go in. I was afraid I might make it worse if _she_ was there. Who is it? Tell me quick! Is it my own Miss Joy, or the other?"

"It's Joy," I assured her, "and she's waiting for you. You must come at once."

She paused a moment, evidently wondering if I knew the secret.

"You're sure?" she said. "You know that there are two?"

"Yes--I know everything, now, and this is Joy--_your_ Joy!"

She bounded forward, and I with her, stumbling in the dark, into the doorway, to the library. There for a moment she stopped, trembling so violently that her teeth chattered audibly. Joy was still lying stretched out at full length upon the cushions of the window-seat. At the first glance Leah did not see her, but then she ran forward, knelt, and threw her arms about her mistress.

But the next instant, starting back as if she had embraced a corpse, she sprang up and faced me, her eyes opened wide in horror.

"Oh, Mr. Castle, she's _asleep_! Miss Joy's _asleep_!"

*II*

For a moment I was too surprised to realize the full significance of Leah's cry. Then Joy's own words came back--the wail of her harassed soul--"If I should fall asleep, who would it be that would awake?" There she lay, asleep at last. Her small head lay upon her arm, and her oval face was now flushed, her lips half parted, showing her little blue-white teeth. The crisp white duck blouse moved gently with her breathing--beneath her skirt two tiny red shoes lay one over the other.

As she herself had said, she was so utterly exhausted that she would "go down deep." Dared we awaken her? Certainly not Leah, who, of course, had seen the whole awful possibility on the instant.

I had to decide. What was to be done must be done quickly. If Joy were allowed to sleep long and deeply we might confidently expect "the other one" to awaken. The question was, could we, perhaps, rouse her before that incomprehensible change had taken place? It seemed to be the only thing to do. I determined, at all events, to take the risk.

Meanwhile, Leah had fallen into a chair, overcome with the disappointment of the situation. She was in a distressing state; her skirt was torn and soiled, her shoes dusty, her waist disheveled. Her black hair was awry; she was hatless. I thought at first that she, too, had fallen asleep from sheer fatigue.

I went to her and laid a hand on her shoulder to rouse her. She started with a frightened jump.

"Leah," I said, "I'm going to awaken Miss Fielding. It's the only thing to do, I think. We may be able to get her again, before she changes. But if not, we must be ready with some plan by which to manage Edna. We must hurry, though. First, tell me in the fewest possible words what has happened. Joy, of course, didn't know."

Leah had braced herself for the ordeal and was now quick, alert and concise. "She got angry on account of my 'trying to run her,' she said. You see 'the other one' was here for two days. I've always been able to manage her for one day, but the second day she seemed to be much stronger, and it was worse than it has ever been before. She found out that I had burned some of her old clothes--Miss Joy had told me to--and so she discharged me and told me to leave the place immediately. I wouldn't go, and she went into the barn and got a horsewhip and threatened me with it. I was afraid, Mr. Castle! She was in a fearful temper. I was afraid she'd kill me. Then I went. I stayed all night in the Harbor. I wrote to you as soon as I got there, for I couldn't get you on the telephone. Yesterday I hung about the place all day, but she didn't appear, and I was afraid to come in. I positively didn't dare, though I knew it probably was Miss Joy. To-day I stayed in that old cabin down by the road all day, for I was pretty sure it must be _she_ who was here. I was so tired I fell asleep and that's how I missed you, I suppose. I've had hardly anything to eat since yesterday--only a few biscuits I brought with me."

I had been thinking out a plan as I listened, and as soon as she had finished I gave Leah her orders.

"Listen, now. If it is 'the other one' who awakens, I'll tell her that I happened to meet you in the Harbor, and induced you to come back, on my own responsibility. Do you see? I'll manage it; you needn't be afraid. I'll take care of you, and it will be all right. Of course if it is Joy who wakes up, that will be better. But we must act quickly. Can you tell immediately who it is that awakens, Joy or 'the other one'?"

"Oh, we can tell that easily enough, by the way she treats me!"

"Very well, then. You must awaken her now!"

I sat down where I could watch, and Leah went hesitatingly up to her mistress again, and shook her shoulder gently.

"Wake up, Miss Joy!" she said softly, but firmly. "Wake up, you're catching cold, honey."

Joy moaned, turned a little, then drew herself together again drowsily.

"Wake up, Miss Joy, you must have your dinner now!"

She moved again, and muttered, "Oh, I'm so sleepy! Let me go to sleep, Leah, please!"

Again Leah shook her. It seemed cruel to have to bring that exhausted body back to life. "Wake up, Miss Joy. Mr. Castle's here to see you! Wake up!"

She opened her eyes now, and stared vacantly at us. Then her face changed gloriously. She flung her arms round Leah's neck.

"Oh, Leah! Leah! You've come back to me!"

It was some moments before either of the women was able to speak. They clung to each other, sobbing.

After the first hurried words of explanation were over, Joy went up to her room to wash her face and freshen herself for what was yet to be done. Leah went with her, almost too happy to think of her own sorry appearance. Both came down, after a while, in a change of costume, and went with me into the dining-room where King was patiently waiting to serve the meal so long delayed. Joy showed plainly the ravages which two days of suspense and agony had accomplished, but she was braced mentally by my presence and Leah's return, and in a condition to discuss calmly what was to be done. Leah had also rallied from her collapse, and the dinner brought her strength and courage.