Alcott, Louisa May - SSC 15 (43 page)

 
          
Not
far, however; the wind buffeted me to and fro, the rain blinded me, the mud
clogged my feet and soon robbed me of a slipper; groping for it in despair, I
saw a light flash into the outer darkness; heard voices calling, and soon the
swift tramp of steps behind me. Feeling like a hunted doe, I ran on, but before
I had gained a dozen yards my shoeless foot struck a sharp stone, and I fell
half stunned upon the wet grass of the wayside bank. Dr. Karnac reached me
first, took me up as if I were a naughty child, and carried me back through a
group of staring servants to the drawing room, my uncle following with
breathless entreaties that I would be calm, and a most uncharacteristic display
of bustle.

 
          
I
was horribly ashamed; my head ached with the shock of the fall, my foot bled,
my heart fluttered, and when the doctor put me down the crisis came, for as my
uncle bent over me with the strange question “My poor girl, do you know me?” an
irresistible impulse impelled me to push him from me, crying passionately,
“Yes, I know and hate you; let me go! Let me go, or it will be too late!” Then,
quite spent with the varying emotions of the last hour, for the first time in
my life I swooned away.

 
          
Coming
to myself, I found I was in my own room, with my uncle, the doctor, Janet, and
Mrs. Best, the housekeeper, gathered about me, the latter saying, as she bathed
my temples, “She’s a sad sight, poor thing, so young, so bonny, and so
unfortunate. Did you ever see her so before, Janet?”

 
          
“Bless
you, no, ma’am; there was no signs of such a tantrum when I dressed her for
dinner.”

 
          
“What
do they mean? Did they never see anyone angry before?” I dimly wondered, and
presently, through the fast disappearing stupor that had held me, Dr. Karnac’s
deep voice came distinctly, saying, “If it continues, you are perfectly
justified in doing so.”

 
          
“Doing
what?” I demanded sharply, for the sound both roused and irritated me, I disliked
the man so intensely.

 
          
“Nothing,
my dear, nothing,” purred Mrs. Best, supporting me as I sat up, feeling weak
and dazed, yet resolved to know what was going on. I was “a sad sight” indeed:
my drenched hair hung about my shoulders, my dress was streaked with mud, one
shoeless foot was red with blood, the other splashed and stained, and a white,
wild-eyed face completed the ruinous image the opposite mirror showed me.
Everything looked blurred and strange, and a feverish unrest possessed me, for
I was not one to subside easily after such a mental storm. Leaning on my arm, I
scanned the room and its occupants with all the composure I could collect. The
two women eyed me curiously yet pitifully; Dr. Karnac stood glancing at me
furtively as he listened to my uncle, who spoke rapidly in Spanish as he showed
the little scar upon his hand.

 
          
That
sight did more to restore me than the cordial just administered, and I rose
erect, saying abruptly, “Please, everybody, go away; my head aches, and I want
to be alone.”

 
          
“Let
Janet stay and help you, dear; you are not fit,” began Mrs. Best; but I
peremptorily stopped her.

 
          
“No,
go yourself, and take her with you; Im tired of so much stir about such foolish
things as a broken glass and a girl in a pet.”

 
          
“You
will be good enough to take this quieting draft before I go, Miss Sybil.”

 
          
“I
shall do nothing of the sort, for I need only solitude and sleep to be
perfectly well,” and I emptied the glass the doctor offered into the fire.

 
          
He
shrugged his shoulders with a disagreeable smile, and quietly began to prepare
another draft, saying, “You are mistaken, my dear young lady; you need much
care, and should obey, that your uncle may be spared further apprehension and
anxiety.”

 
          
My
patience gave out at this assumption of authority; and I determined to carry
matters with a high hand, for they all stood watching me in a way which seemed
the height of impertinent curiosity.

 
          
“He
is not my uncle! Never has been, and deserves neither respect nor obedience
from me! I am the best judge of my own health, and you are not bettering it by
contradiction and unnecessary fuss. This is my house, and you will oblige me by
leaving it, Dr. Karnac; this is my room, and I insist on being left in peace
immediately.”

 
          
I
pointed to the door as I spoke; the women hurried out with scared faces; the
doctor bowed and followed, but paused on the threshold, while my uncle
approached me, asking in a tone inaudible to those still hovering round the
door, “Do you still persist in your refusal, Sybil?”

 
          
“How
dare you ask me that again? I tell you I had rather die than marry you!”

 
          
“The
Lord
be
merciful to us! Just hear how she’s going on
now about marrying Master. Ain’t it awful, Jane?” ejaculated Mrs. Best, bobbing
her head in for a last look.

 
          
“Hold
your tongue, you impertinent creature!” I called out; and the fat old soul
bundled away in such comical haste I laughed, in spite of languor and vexation.

 
          
My
uncle left me, and I heard him say as he passed the doctor, “You see how it
is.”

 
          
“Nothing
uncommon; but that virulence is a bad symptom,” answered the Spaniard, and
closing the door locked it, having dexterously removed the key from within.

 
          
I
had never been subjected to restraint of any kind; it made me reckless at once,
for this last indignity was not to be endured.

 
          
“Open
this instantly!” I commanded, shaking the door. No one answered, and after a
few ineffectual attempts to break the lock I left it, threw up the window and
looked out; the ground was too far off for a leap, but the trellis where summer
vines had clung was strong and high, a step would place me on it, a moments
agility bring me to the terrace below. I was now in just the state to attempt
any rash exploit, for the cordial had both strengthened and excited me; my foot
was bandaged, my clothes still wet; I could suffer no new damage, and have my
own way at small cost. Out I crept, climbed safely down, and made my way to the
lodge as I had at first intended. But Guy was not there; and returning, I
boldly went in at the great door, straight to the room where my uncle and the
doctor were still talking.

 
          
“I
wish the key of my room” was my brief command.

 
          
Both
started as if I had been a ghost, and rqy uncle exclaimed, “You here! How in
heaven’s name came you out?”

 
          
“By the window.
I am no child to be confined for a fit of
anger. I will not submit to it; tomorrow I shall go to Madame; till then I will
be mistress in my own house. Give me the key, sir.”

 
          
“Shall
I?” asked the doctor of my uncle, who nodded with a whispered “Yes, yes; don’t
excite her again.”

 
          
It
was restored, and without another word I went loftily up to my room, locked
myself in, and spent a restless, miserable night. When morning came, I
breakfasted abovestairs, and then busied myself packing trunks, burning papers,
and collecting every trifle Guy had ever given me. No one annoyed me, and I saw
only Janet, who had evidently received some order that kept her silent and
respectful, though her face still betrayed the same curiosity and pitiful
interest as the night before. Lunch was brought up, but I could not eat, and
began to feel that the exposure, the fall, and excitement of the evening had
left me weak and nervous, so I gave up the idea of going to Madame till the
morrow; and as the afternoon waned, tried to sleep, yet could not, for I had
sent a note to several of Guy’s haunts, imploring him to see me; but my
messenger brought word that he was not to be found, and my heart was too heavy
to rest.

 
          
When
summoned to dinner, I still refused to go down; for I heard Dr. Karnac’s voice,
and would not meet him, so I sent word that I wished the carriage early the
following morning, and to be left alone till then. In a few minutes, back came
Janet, with a glass of wine set forth on a silver salver, and a card with these
words: “Forgive, forget, for your father’s sake, and drink with me, ‘Oblivion
to the past.’ ”

 
          
It
touched and softened me. I knew my uncle’s pride, and saw in this an entire
relinquishment of the hopes I had so thoughtlessly fostered in his mind. I was
passionate, but not vindictive. He had been kind, I very willful. His mistake
was natural, my resentment ungenerous. Though my resolution to go remained
unchanged, I was sorry for my part in the affair; and remembering that through
me his son was lost to him, I accepted his apology, drank his toast, and sent
him back a dutiful “Good night.”

 
          
I
was unused to wine. The draft I had taken was powerful with age, and, though
warm and racy to the palate, proved too potent for me. Still sitting before my
fire, I slowly fell into a restless drowse, haunted by a dim dream that I was
seeking Guy in a ship, whose motion gradually lulled me into perfect
unconsciousness.

 
          
Waking
at length, I was surprised to find myself in bed, with a shimmer of daylight
peeping through the curtains. Recollecting that I was to leave early, I sprang
up, took one step, and remained transfixed with dismay, for the room was not my
own! Utterly unfamiliar was every object on which my eyes fell. The place was
small, plainly furnished, and close, as if long unused. My trunks stood against
the wall, my clothes lay on a chair, and on the bed I had left trailed a
fur-lined cloak I had often seen on my uncle’s shoulders. A moment I stared
about me bewildered, then hurried to the window. It was grated!

 
          
A
lawn, sere and sodden, lay without, and a line of somber firs hid the landscape
beyond the high wall which encompassed the dreary plot. More and more alarmed,
I flew to the door and found it locked. No bell was visible, no sound audible,
no human presence near me, and an ominous foreboding thrilled cold through
nerves and blood, as, for the first time, I felt the paralyzing touch of fear.
Not long, however. My native courage soon returned, indignation took the place
of terror, and excitement gave me strength. My temples throbbed with a dull
pain, my eyes were heavy, my limbs weighed down by an unwonted lassitude, and
my memory seemed strangely confused; but one thing was clear to me: I must see
somebody, ask questions, demand explanations, and get away to Madame without
delay.

 
          
With
trembling hands I dressed, stopping suddenly with a cry; for lifting my hands
to my head, I discovered that my hair, my beautiful, abundant hair, was gone!
There was no mirror in the room, but I could feel that it had been shorn away
close about face and neck. This outrage was more than I could bear, and the
first tears I shed fell for my lost charm. It was weak, perhaps, but I felt
better for it, clearer in mind and readier to confront whatever lay before me.
I knocked and called. Then, losing
patience,
shook and
screamed; but no one came or answered me; and wearied out at last, I sat down
and cried again in impotent despair.

 
          
An
hour passed,
then
a step approached, the key turned,
and a hardfaced woman entered with a tray in her hand. I had resolved to be
patient, if possible, and controlled myself to ask quietly, though my eyes
kindled, and my voice trembled with resentment, “Where
am I
,
and why am I here against my will?”

 
          
“This
is your breakfast, miss; you must be sadly hungry” was the only reply I got.

 
          
“I
will never eat till you tell me what I ask.”

 
          
“Will
you be quiet, and mind me if I do, miss?”

 
          
“You
have no right to exact obedience from me, but
Til
try.”

 
          
“That’s
right. Now all I know is that you are twenty miles from the Moors, and came
because you are ill. Do you like sugar in your coffee?” “When did I come? I
don’t remember it.”