Cruel As The Grave Part 28

"Yes, and I also."

"_You?_ Why you took the very means to reveal your self, wearing a dress so perfectly adapted to your nature. Anybody might have known you,"

pouted Trix.

"Yes, anybody _might_ have known me; but I do not think that anybody _would_ have done so, if it had not been for a certain 'expert' who, detecting the 'correspondences,' as he calls them, divulged the secret to the whole room," explained Sybil.

"Well, somebody found you out, and did it by the fitness of your costume too. But as for me, nothing could be more opposite in character than Janet Foster the Puritan maiden, and Beatrix Pendleton the wild huntress. We are about as much alike as sage tea and sparkling hock.

Why, see here, Sybil; in order to throw every one off the track of me, I took a character as unlike mine as it was possible to find, and yet I have not succeeded in concealing my ident.i.ty. And this has provoked me to such an extent that I have left the dance."

"And so I find you sulking here. Well, Trix, I will tell you how they found you out. You and I are known to be the two smallest women in the whole neighborhood. After having found me out, through the divination of a magician, it was easy to see that the other small woman must be you."

"Oh, I see; but it is perfectly exasperating!"

"So it is; but you may get some fun out of it yet, Trix, by turning the tables upon them all."

"How? Tell me! I'll do anything to get the better of them."

"I cannot tell you now, for here comes my escort with my lemonade, and this matter must remain a secret between you and me. But listen: in fifteen minutes from this time slip away and go to my bedroom. You know the way, and you will find it empty. I will join you there, and tell you my plan," said Sybil, in a very low tone.

At that moment her escort arrived with the gla.s.s of lemonade.

Sybil received it from him with many thanks, and having offered it first to her companion, who politely declined it, she drank it, sat the empty gla.s.s upon the corner of the mantle-piece and then said:

"I will trouble you now, if you please, to take me back to my former seat."

Death bowed and offered his arm. Fire arose, nodded to the little Puritan on the sofa, took the arm of her escort, and walked away.

When she reached her old seat she dismissed her escort, and in a few minutes, finding herself for the instant un.o.bserved, she quietly slipped away to her bed-chamber, where she found Beatrix Pendleton already awaiting her.

First of all Sybil locked the door, to insure herself and her companion from interruption. Then she went to the gla.s.s and took off her crown of flame and her mask of gold gauze, and drew a long breath of relief as she turned towards her companion, who started violently, exclaiming:

"Good Heaven, Sybil! how ghastly pale you look! You are ill!"

"Oh, no; only very weary," sighed Sybil, adding then, in explanation, "You know these affairs are very fatiguing."

"Yes, I know, but not to that extent, when you have a house full of trained servants to do everything. Why Sybil, you look as if your fiery dress had burned you to a form of ashes, leaving only a shape that might be blown away with a breath."

"Like another Creusa," answered Sybil, coldly. Then changing her tone, she said, with a.s.sumed lightness, "Come, Trix, you want to see some fun, and you shall see it. You and I are of about one size. We will therefore exchange dresses. You shall be the Fire Queen and I will be the Puritan maid. You can sustain the part you will take admirably, and upon occasion can disguise your own voice or imitate mine. I shall do my best to enact the little Puritan. But with all we can do to support the characters, we shall puzzle people to the end of their wits. They will not feel quite so sure now as they were an hour ago that I am the Fire Queen, or you the Puritan maid. But they will not know who we are. Come, what have you to say to this?"

"Why, that it is enchanting. I agree to your plan at once."

"All right, then. We have no time to lose. It is half-past ten o'clock now. At twelve supper will be served, when all the guests will lay aside their masks. So you see that we have but an hour and a half to effect our change of dress and hoax our wise companions. Just before supper we must slip up here again and change back, so that we may unmask at supper in our proper disguises."

"All right!" exclaimed Trix, delighted with the plan.

"And there is one more caution I must give you. Keep out of the way of my husband. He knows my character of Fire Queen, and if he should see you near him in that dress, he would be sure to speak to you for me; and if you should attempt to reply, no matter how well you might imitate my voice, your speech would certainly betray you."

"All right! I will keep away from your husband, if I can; but how shall I know him?"

"He is dressed as Harold the last of the Saxon Kings!"

"Oh! is _that_ Mr. Berners? And I never suspected it! I thought _that_ was some single man, desperately smitten with the charms of Edith the Fair," continued Beatrix.

"Oh, yes, I dare say you thought, but you were mistaken. Edith the Fair is our guest, Mrs. Blondelle. And she took the character of Edith to support Mr. Berners in Harold, and to be true to these characters they must act as they do; for Harold and Edith were lovers in history,"

explained Sybil, speaking calmly, though every word uttered by her companion had seemed like a separate stab to her already deeply wounded bosom.

"'Lovers in history' were they? I should take them to be lovers in mystery now, if I did not know them to be Mr. Berners and Mrs.

Blondelle," persisted Beatrix, all unconscious of the blows she was raining upon Sybil's overburdened heart. "However," she added, "I shall keep out of the way of both, for if _he_ knew your disguise, be sure that _she_ knew it also; and of course both, in daily intercourse with you, know your voice equally well. And if either of them should take me for you and speak to me for you, and I should attempt to reply, I should be sure to betray myself. So I will keep away from both, if I can. If not, if they should come suddenly upon me and speak to me, I shall not answer, but shall turn around and walk silently away as if I were offended with them."

"Yes, do that; that will be excellent," a.s.sented Sybil.

"And now, how are you going to support my character, or rather my disguise?" inquired Beatrix.

"By being very silent and demure as Janet Foster; or, if need should be, by carrying on your mood of sullenness as Beatrix Pendleton, masked."

"That will do," agreed Beatrix, with a smile.

All the while they had been speaking, they had also been taking off their fancy dresses. No time was lost, and the exchange of costume was quickly effected.

"Now," said Sybil, "another favor."

"Name it."

"Let me go down first. Then do you wait ten minutes here before you follow me. And when you enter the room keep away from me, as well as from my husband and my guest."

"Very well. I will do so. Anything else?"

"Nothing now, thank you," said Sybil, kissing her hand as she left the room.

And Sybil, dressed now in the plain, close-fitting camlet gown and prim white linen cap, cuffs, and collar of the Puritan maid, and with a pale, young looking mask on her face, reentered the saloon to try her experiment.

She looked around, and soon saw her husband and her rival sitting side-by-side, on the little retired sofa in the corner. They were absorbed in each other's attractions, and did not see her. She glided cautiously into a seat near them.

They were sitting very close together, talking in a very low tone. Her hand rested in his. At length, Sybil heard her inquire:

"Where is your wife? I have not seen her for some time."

"She has left the room, I believe," answered Mr. Berners.

"Oh, that is such a relief! Do you know that I am really afraid of her?"

"Afraid of her! why? With me you are always perfectly safe. Safe!" he repeated, with a light laugh--"why, of course you are! Besides, what could harm you? Of whom are you afraid? Your friend, my wife, Sybil? She is your friend, and would do you only good."

Rosa Blondelle slowly shook her head, murmuring:

"No, Lyon, your wife is not my friend--she is my deadly enemy. She is fiercely jealous of your affection for me, though it is the only happiness of my unhappy life. And she will make you throw me off yet."

"Never! no one, not even my wife, shall ever do that! I swear it by all my hopes of--"