John Marsh's Millions Part 37

"How are you? Have they been kind to you?"

Paula made no answer. Looking over her shoulder in a frightened kind of way, she said in a whisper:

"Tell that woman to go away."

He turned to the attendant.

"Will you please leave us?" he said politely.

Mrs. Johnson hesitated. It was against the rules to let the patient out of her sight. Shaking her head doubtfully, she said:

"I'm supposed to---- You see, sir, I'm responsible for the young lady.

But I'll go. It will be all right, I am sure. If you want me I shall be in there." Pointing to the entrance to the wards, she opened the door and quietly disappeared.

"She's a good woman," said Paula. "She's very kind and obliging. But she follows me everywhere. If I could forget my position even for a moment, the constant presence of that woman would remind me. Oh, it's so hard to bear!"

"But she's kind, you say--and obliging. That's something, isn't it?"

said Mr. Ricaby encouragingly.

"Yes, it's something," replied the girl. She laughed bitterly as she went on: "They're all kind and considerate, Mr. Ricaby, but it's their very kindness and consideration that hurts me most. They look at me with such sympathy and pity. I can read their very thoughts. They seem to say: 'Poor thing, you have no mind. You can't think as we do.' And they treat me as tenderly as they would a child. They try to amuse me and comfort me. They give me everything I ask for--everything, except my liberty. I demand my liberty. It won't be long now. The case comes up the day after to-morrow, doesn't it?"

The lawyer looked away. Awkwardly he replied:

"No, Paula; it's postponed for a week."

"What!" she cried, in dismay. "Postponed--postponed! Oh!"

"If we'd been successful in getting Senator Wratchett," he explained, "Cooley never would have obtained a stay of proceedings. But Wratchett says he is not prepared."

"And until he is prepared I must stay here?" she cried, in consternation.

"The time will soon pa.s.s," he replied soothingly.

The girl walked nervously up and down the floor. Turning quickly on the lawyer, she exclaimed, with angry vehemence:

"Soon pa.s.s! Soon pa.s.s! Do you realize what it means to stay in this dreadful place another whole week? To meet only men and women who regard you with pity and curiosity--as--as hopelessly unfit to go into the outer world? Their very kindness and consideration is a mockery. Another week? Seven long days, seven endless nights? I can't sleep, I only get fitful s.n.a.t.c.hes of oblivion during which my dreams are worse than the awakening. I've been here only three weeks and it seems like a lifetime--a lifetime. The companions.h.i.+p of that woman for another week!"

Hysterically she cried: "I can't do it, Mr. Ricaby, I can't do it! You must take me away from here!"

The lawyer made no reply. Then, as if suddenly actuated by a determined resolution, he went up to the window overlooking the grounds and glanced out. Perhaps there might be a chance to get away. But when he noted the precipitous stone walls and the man on guard at the locked iron gates, he was convinced of the futility of any such attempt. It would only injure her cause. Shaking his head, he returned to where Paula stood.

"It isn't possible," he said, in an undertone. "That woman is behind the door. A man is over at the gate. No, that's not the way. If you go at all it must be through the front door, with head erect."

With a gesture of discouragement, Paula sank down on a chair.

"I can't stand it any longer," she cried, her face streaming with tears, "it's unbearable--simply unbearable! Did you ever try to count the time away? The first day I was here I determined not to think of my position.

I counted the seconds. I counted one, two, three, four, five thousand--counted until I became exhausted. I thought I'd counted for hours, but I found that barely one little hour had pa.s.sed--one little hour--and that the more I tried to forget my position the more intolerable it became."

Almost beside himself, not knowing what to suggest next, the lawyer strode nervously up and down the room. Each word she uttered was a stinging reproach and a knife thrust in his heart. Yet could he do more than he was doing? Stopping in front of her, he seized her burning hands and held them firmly in his own.

"Paula--Paula!" he cried appealingly, "for G.o.d's sake don't go on that way! I can't stand it. Try, try to bear up. The sun is s.h.i.+ning somewhere behind these clouds--if we could only see it! This darkness will only last for a few days--a few hours--and then----"

"And then," she echoed with a hollow, mocking laugh. "Sometimes, when I think of the frightful ordeal I shall be compelled to go through to prove that I am ent.i.tled to my freedom, I--I feel unequal to the task-- I'm--I'm afraid--afraid----"

"You'll be all right--you'll come out triumphant!"

She shook her head doubtfully.

"How can I tell that I shall be able to convince these strangers? They don't know me as--as you do. Suppose I don't make a good impression.

Suppose that the answers I make to their questions are not--not what they consider intelligent. Suppose I become confused and lose control of myself as I did before--what then?"

He held out his hand deprecatingly.

"Paula!"

"What then?" she demanded plaintively.

"It's impossible!" he answered. Entreatingly he went on: "Oh, Paula! for G.o.d's sake don't let these gloomy thoughts get hold of your mind!"

"But they do get into my mind," she went on hoa.r.s.ely. "How can I tell for certain that these strange men who will be called upon to decide finally--will decide in my favor? They may mean to do what is right, but do they know? It's the uncertainty that makes my position here so intolerable--the dreadful uncertainty. If I thought that when my case did come up I would walk out of court a free woman, I'd try and bear this temporary restraint--but it's the horrible uncertainty--the suspense--the anxiety that's gnawing at me--the secret dread that constant contact with these people may make me one of them----"

"Don't say that," he interrupted.

"But it's true," she insisted. "That's why I must go away from here at once!"

"Yes, but how--how?" he demanded.

"I don't know."

There was a deep silence. Neither spoke. Helpless, crushed by the law's heavy hand, with hardly a ray of hope ahead, both sat stunned by the calamity which had overtaken them. All at once their reverie was disturbed by the sound of approaching footsteps. The big door opened and Collins appeared. Addressing the lawyer, the old waiter said:

"There's a gentleman in the visitors' room--a Mr. Chase, sir. He's come up from New York specially to see you, sir. When I told him you were talking with the young lady--he--he made me promise him to bring him to see her, too. He has no permit, but I've waited on him scores of times at Del's, and he was always so liberal, that I couldn't refuse him.

Shall I bring him here, sir? And would you mind taking the responsibility--if any question is raised?"

Paula rose, a flush of pleasure reddening her pale cheeks.

"Oh, please, Mr. Ricaby, I do so want to see him," she cried.

"I had better see him alone, Paula," objected the lawyer.

"But I want to see him," she insisted.

Mr. Ricaby nodded to Collins.

"Very well; tell him to come in."

The old man disappeared, and the attorney turned to his client. There was a tone of reproach in his voice as he said:

"How glad you are to see this man, Paula!"