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    The Lady's Maid's Bell

    by Edith Wharton
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    IT was the autumn after I had the typhoid. I'd been three months in
    hospital, and when I came out I looked so weak and tottery that the
    two or three ladies I applied to were afraid to engage me. Most of
    my money was gone, and after I'd boarded for two months, hanging
    about the employment-agencies, and answering any advertisement that
    looked any way respectable, I pretty nearly lost heart, for fretting
    hadn't made me fatter, and I didn't see why my luck should ever
    turn. It did though--or I thought so at the time. A Mrs. Railton, a
    friend of the lady that first brought me out to the States, met me
    one day and stopped to speak to me: she was one that had always a
    friendly way with her. She asked me what ailed me to look so white,
    and when I told her, "Why, Hartley," says she, "I believe I've got
    the very place for you. Come in to-morrow and we'll talk about it."

    The next day, when I called, she told me the lady she'd in mind was
    a niece of hers, a Mrs. Brympton, a youngish lady, but something of
    an invalid, who lived all the year round at her country-place on the
    Hudson, owing to not being able to stand the fatigue of town life.

    "Now, Hartley," Mrs. Railton said, in that cheery way that always
    made me feel things must be going to take a turn for the
    better--"now understand me; it's not a cheerful place i'm sending
    you to. The house is big and gloomy; my niece is nervous, vaporish;
    her husband--well, he's generally away; and the two children are
    dead. A year ago, I would as soon have thought of shutting a rosy
    active girl like you into a vault; but you're not particularly brisk
    yourself just now, are you? and a quiet place, with country air and
    wholesome food and early hours, ought to be the very thing for you.
    Don't mistake me," she added, for I suppose I looked a trifle
    downcast; "you may find it dull, but you won't be unhappy. My niece
    is an angel. Her former maid, who died last spring, had been with
    her twenty years and worshipped the ground she walked on. She's a
    kind mistress to all, and where the mistress is kind, as you know,
    the servants are generally good-humored, so you'll probably get on
    well enough with the rest of the household. And you're the very
    woman I want for my niece: quiet, well-mannered, and educated above
    your station. You read aloud well, I think? That's a good thing; my
    niece likes to be read to. She wants a maid that can be something of
    a companion: her last was, and I can't say how she misses her. It's
    a lonely life...Well, have you decided?"

    "Why, ma'am," I said, "I'm not afraid of solitude."

    "Well, then, go; my niece will take you on my recommendation. I'll
    telegraph her at once and you can take the afternoon train. She has
    no one to wait on her at present, and I don't want you to lose any

    I was ready enough to start, yet something in me hung back; and to
    gain time I asked, "And the gentleman, ma'am?"

    "The gentleman's almost always away, I tell you," said Mrs. Ralston,
    quick-like--"and when he's there," says she suddenly, "you've only
    to keep out of his way."

    I took the afternoon train and got out at D-----station at about
    four o'clock. A groom in a dog-cart was waiting, and we drove off at
    a smart pace. It was a dull October day, with rain hanging close
    overhead, and by the time we turned into the Brympton Place woods
    the daylight was almost gone. The drive wound through the woods for
    a mile or two, and came out on a gravel court shut in with thickets
    of tall black-looking shrubs. There were no lights in the windows,
    and the house _did_ look a bit gloomy.

    I had asked no questions of the groom, for I never was one to get my
    notion of new masters from their other servants: I prefer to wait
    and see for myself. But I could tell by the look of everything that
    I had got into the right kind of house, and that things were done
    handsomely. A pleasant-faced cook met me at the back door and called
    the house-maid to show me up to my room. "You'll see madam later,"
    she said. "Mrs. Brympton has a visitor."

    I hadn't fancied Mrs. Brympton was a lady to have many visitors, and
    somehow the words cheered me. I followed the house-maid upstairs,
    and saw, through a door on the upper landing, that the main part of
    the house seemed well-furnished, with dark panelling and a number of
    old portraits. Another flight of stairs led us up to the servants'
    wing. It was almost dark now, and the house-maid excused herself for
    not having brought a light. "But there's matches in your room," she
    said, "and if you go careful you'll be all right. Mind the step at
    the end of the passage. Your room is just beyond."

    I looked ahead as she spoke, and half-way down the passage, I saw a
    woman standing. She drew back into a doorway as we passed, and the
    house-maid didn't appear to notice her. She was a thin woman with a
    white face, and a darkish stuff gown and apron. I took her for the
    housekeeper and thought it odd that she didn't speak, but just gave
    me a long look as she went by. My room opened into a square hall at
    the end of the passage. Facing my door was another which stood open:
    the house-maid exclaimed when she saw it.

    "There--Mrs. Blinder's left that door open again!" said she, closing

    "Is Mrs. Blinder the housekeeper?"

    "There's no housekeeper: Mrs. Blinder's the cook."

    "And is that her room?"

    "Laws, no," said the house-maid, cross-like. "That's nobody's room.
    It's empty, I mean, and the door hadn't ought to be open. Mrs.
    Brympton wants it kept locked."

    She opened my door and led me into a neat room, nicely furnished,
    with a picture or two on the walls; and having lit a candle she took
    leave, telling me that the servants'-hall tea was at six, and that
    Mrs. Brympton would see me afterward.

    I found them a pleasant-spoken set in the servants' hall, and by
    what they let fall I gathered that, as Mrs. Railton had said, Mrs.
    Brympton was the kindest of ladies; but I didn't take much notice of
    their talk, for I was watching to see the pale woman in the dark
    gown come in. She didn't show herself, however, and I wondered if
    she ate apart; but if she wasn't the housekeeper, why should she?
    Suddenly it struck me that she might be a trained nurse, and in that
    case her meals would of course be served in her room. If Mrs.
    Brympton was an invalid it was likely enough she had a nurse. The
    idea annoyed me, I own, for they're not always the easiest to get on
    with, and if I'd known, I shouldn't have taken the place. But there
    I was, and there was no use pulling a long face over it; and not
    being one to ask questions, I waited to see what would turn up.

    When tea was over, the house-maid said to the footman: "Has Mr.
    Ranford gone?" and when he said yes, she told me to come up with her
    to Mrs. Brympton.

    Mrs. Brympton was lying down in her bedroom. Her lounge stood near
    the fire and beside it was a shaded lamp. She was a delicate-looking
    lady, but when she smiled I felt there was nothing I wouldn't do for
    her. She spoke very pleasantly, in a low voice, asking me my name
    and age and so on, and if I had everything I wanted, and if I wasn't
    afraid of feeling lonely in the country.

    "Not with you I wouldn't be, madam," I said, and the words surprised
    me when I'd spoken them, for I'm not an impulsive person; but it was
    just as if I'd thought aloud.

    She seemed pleased at that, and said she hoped I'd continue in the
    same mind; then she gave me a few directions about her toilet, and
    said Agnes the house-maid would show me next morning where things
    were kept.

    "I am tired to-night, and shall dine upstairs," she said. "Agnes
    will bring me my tray, that you may have time to unpack and settle
    yourself; and later you may come and undress me."

    "Very well, ma'am," I said. "You'll ring, I suppose?"

    I thought she looked odd.

    "No--Agnes will fetch you," says she quickly, and took up her book

    Well--that was certainly strange: a lady's maid having to be fetched
    by the house-maid whenever her lady wanted her! I wondered if there
    were no bells in the house; but the next day I satisfied myself that
    there was one in every room, and a special one ringing from my
    mistress's room to mine; and after that it did strike me as queer
    that, whenever Mrs. Brympton wanted anything, she rang for Agnes,
    who had to walk the whole length of the servants' wing to call me.

    But that wasn't the only queer thing in the house. The very next day
    I found out that Mrs. Brympton had no nurse; and then I asked Agnes
    about the woman I had seen in the passage the afternoon before.
    Agnes said she had seen no one, and I saw that she thought I was
    dreaming. To be sure, it was dusk when we went down the passage, and
    she had excused herself for not bringing a light; but I had seen the
    woman plain enough to know her again if we should meet. I decided
    that she must have been a friend of the cook's, or of one of the
    other women-servants: perhaps she had come down from town for a
    night's visit, and the servants wanted it kept secret. Some ladies
    are very stiff about having their servants' friends in the house
    overnight. At any rate, I made up my mind to ask no more questions.

    In a day or two, another odd thing happened. I was chatting one
    afternoon with Mrs. Blinder, who was a friendly disposed woman, and
    had been longer in the house than the other servants, and she asked
    me if I was quite comfortable and had everything I needed. I said I
    had no fault to find with my place or with my mistress, but I
    thought it odd that in so large a house there was no sewing-room for
    the lady's maid.

    "Why," says she, "there _is_ one; the room you're in is the old

    "Oh," said I; "and where did the other lady's maid sleep?"

    At that she grew confused, and said hurriedly that the servants'
    rooms had all been changed about last year, and she didn't rightly

    That struck me as peculiar, but I went on as if I hadn't noticed:
    "Well, there's a vacant room opposite mine, and I mean to ask Mrs.
    Brympton if I mayn't use that as a sewing-room."

    To my astonishment, Mrs. Blinder went white, and gave my hand a kind
    of squeeze. "Don't do that, my dear," said she, trembling-like. "To
    tell you the truth, that was Emma Saxon's room, and my mistress has
    kept it closed ever since her death."

    "And who was Emma Saxon?"

    "Mrs. Brympton's former maid."

    "The one that was with her so many years?" said I, remembering what
    Mrs. Railton had told me.

    Mrs. Blinder nodded.

    "What sort of woman was she?"

    "No better walked the earth," said Mrs. Blinder. "My mistress loved
    her like a sister."

    "But I mean--what did she look like?"

    Mrs. Blinder got up and gave me a kind of angry stare. "I'm no great
    hand at describing," she said; "and I believe my pastry's rising."
    And she walked off into the kitchen and shut the door after her.


    I HAD been near a week at Brympton before I saw my master. Word came
    that he was arriving one afternoon, and a change passed over the
    whole household. It was plain that nobody loved him below stairs.
    Mrs. Blinder took uncommon care with the dinner that night, but she
    snapped at the kitchen-maid in a way quite unusual with her; and Mr.
    Wace, the butler, a serious, slow-spoken man, went about his duties
    as if he'd been getting ready for a funeral. He was a great
    Bible-reader, Mr. Wace was, and had a beautiful assortment of texts
    at his command; but that day he used such dreadful language that I
    was about to leave the table, when he assured me it was all out of
    Isaiah; and I noticed that whenever the master came Mr. Wace took to
    the prophets.

    About seven, Agnes called me to my mistress's room; and there I
    found Mr. Brympton. He was standing on the hearth; a big fair
    bull-necked man, with a red face and little bad-tempered blue eyes:
    the kind of man a young simpleton might have thought handsome, and
    would have been like to pay dear for thinking it.

    He swung about when I came in, and looked me over in a trice. I knew
    what the look meant, from having experienced it once or twice in my
    former places. Then he turned his back on me, and went on talking to
    his wife; and I knew what _that_ meant, too. I was not the kind of
    morsel he was after. The typhoid had served me well enough in one
    way: it kept that kind of gentleman at arm's-length.

    "This is my new maid, Hartley," says Mrs. Brympton in her kind
    voice; and he nodded and went on with what he was saying.

    In a minute or two he went off, and left my mistress to dress for
    dinner, and I noticed as I waited on her that she was white, and
    chill to the touch.

    Mr. Brympton took himself off the next morning, and the whole house
    drew a long breath when he drove away. As for my mistress, she put
    on her hat and furs (for it was a fine winter morning) and went out
    for a walk in the gardens, coming back quite fresh and rosy, so that
    for a minute, before her color faded, I could guess what a pretty
    young lady she must have been, and not so long ago, either.

    She had met Mr. Ranford in the grounds, and the two came back
    together, I remember, smiling and talking as they walked along the
    terrace under my window. That was the first time I saw Mr. Ranford,
    though I had often heard his name mentioned in the hall. He was a
    neighbor, it appeared, living a mile or two beyond Brympton, at the
    end of the village; and as he was in the habit of spending his
    winters in the country he was almost the only company my mistress
    had at that season. He was a slight tall gentleman of about thirty,
    and I thought him rather melancholy-looking till I saw his smile,
    which had a kind of surprise in it, like the first warm day in
    spring. He was a great reader, I heard, like my mistress, and the
    two were forever borrowing books of one another, and sometimes (Mr.
    Wace told me) he would read aloud to Mrs. Brympton by the hour, in
    the big dark library where she sat in the winter afternoons. The
    servants all liked him, and perhaps that's more of a compliment than
    the masters suspect. He had a friendly word for every one of us, and
    we were all glad to think that Mrs. Brympton had a pleasant
    companionable gentleman like that to keep her company when the
    master was away. Mr. Ranford seemed on excellent terms with Mr.
    Brympton too; though I couldn't but wonder that two gentlemen so
    unlike each other should be so friendly. But then I knew how the
    real quality can keep their feelings to themselves.

    As for Mr. Brympton, he came and went, never staying more than a day
    or two, cursing the dulness and the solitude, grumbling at
    everything, and (as I soon found out) drinking a deal more than was
    good for him. After Mrs. Brympton left the table he would sit half
    the night over the old Brympton port and madeira, and once, as I was
    leaving my mistress's room rather later than usual, I met him coming
    up the stairs in such a state that I turned sick to think of what
    some ladies have to endure and hold their tongues about.

    The servants said very little about their master; but from what they
    let drop I could see it had been an unhappy match from the
    beginning. Mr. Brympton was coarse, loud and pleasure-loving; my
    mistress quiet, retiring, and perhaps a trifle cold. Not that she
    was not always pleasant-spoken to him: I thought her wonderfully
    forbearing; but to a gentleman as free as Mr. Brympton I daresay she
    seemed a little offish.

    Well, things went on quietly for several weeks. My mistress was
    kind, my duties were light, and I got on well with the other
    servants. In short, I had nothing to complain of; yet there was
    always a weight on me. I can't say why it was so, but I know it was
    not the loneliness that I felt. I soon got used to that; and being
    still languid from the fever, I was thankful for the quiet and the
    good country air. Nevertheless, I was never quite easy in my mind.
    My mistress, knowing I had been ill, insisted that I should take my
    walk regular, and often invented errands for me:--a yard of ribbon
    to be fetched from the village, a letter posted, or a book returned
    to Mr. Ranford. As soon as I was out of doors my spirits rose, and I
    looked forward to my walks through the bare moist-smelling woods;
    but the moment I caught sight of the house again my heart dropped
    down like a stone in a well. It was not a gloomy house exactly, yet
    I never entered it but a feeling of gloom came over me.

    Mrs. Brympton seldom went out in winter; only on the finest days did
    she walk an hour at noon on the south terrace. Excepting Mr.
    Ranford, we had no visitors but the doctor, who drove over from
    D-----about once a week. He sent for me once or twice to give me
    some trifling direction about my mistress, and though he never told
    me what her illness was, I thought, from a waxy look she had now and
    then of a morning, that it might be the heart that ailed her. The
    season was soft and unwholesome, and in January we had a long spell
    of rain. That was a sore trial to me, I own, for I couldn't go out,
    and sitting over my sewing all day, listening to the drip, drip of
    the eaves, I grew so nervous that the least sound made me jump.
    Somehow, the thought of that locked room across the passage began to
    weigh on me. Once or twice, in the long rainy nights, I fancied I
    heard noises there; but that was nonsense, of course, and the
    daylight drove such notions out of my head. Well, one morning Mrs.
    Brympton gave me quite a start of pleasure by telling me she wished
    me to go to town for some shopping. I hadn't known till then how low
    my spirits had fallen. I set off in high glee, and my first sight of
    the crowded streets and the cheerful-looking shops quite took me out
    of myself. Toward afternoon, however, the noise and confusion began
    to tire me, and I was actually looking forward to the quiet of
    Brympton, and thinking how I should enjoy the drive home through the
    dark woods, when I ran across an old acquaintance, a maid I had once
    been in service with. We had lost sight of each other for a number
    of years, and I had to stop and tell her what had happened to me in
    the interval. When I mentioned where I was living she rolled up her
    eyes and pulled a long face.

    "What! The Mrs. Brympton that lives all the year at her place on the
    Hudson? My dear, you won't stay there three months."

    "Oh, but I don't mind the country," says I, offended somehow at her
    tone. "Since the fever I'm glad to be quiet."

    She shook her head. "It's not the country I'm thinking of. All I
    know is she's had four maids in the last six months, and the last
    one, who was a friend of mine, told me nobody could stay in the

    "Did she say why?" I asked.

    "No--she wouldn't give me her reason. But she says to me, _Mrs.
    Ansey_, she says, _if ever a young woman as you know of thinks of
    going there, you tell her it's not worth while to unpack her

    "Is she young and handsome?" said I, thinking of Mr. Brympton.

    "Not her! She's the kind that mothers engage when they've gay young
    gentlemen at college."

    Well, though I knew the woman was an idle gossip, the words stuck in
    my head, and my heart sank lower than ever as I drove up to Brympton
    in the dusk. There _was_ something about the house--I was sure of it

    When I went in to tea I heard that Mr. Brympton had arrived, and I
    saw at a glance that there had been a disturbance of some kind. Mrs.
    Blinder's hand shook so that she could hardly pour the tea, and Mr.
    Wace quoted the most dreadful texts full of brimstone. Nobody said a
    word to me then, but when I went up to my room Mrs. Blinder followed

    "Oh, my dear," says she, taking my hand, "I'm so glad and thankful
    you've come back to us!"

    That struck me, as you may imagine. "Why," said I, "did you think I
    was leaving for good?"

    "No, no, to be sure," said she, a little confused, "but I can't
    a-bear to have madam left alone for a day even." She pressed my hand
    hard, and, "Oh, Miss Hartley," says she, "be good to your mistress,
    as you're a Christian woman." And with that she hurried away, and
    left me staring.

    A moment later Agnes called me to Mrs. Brympton. Hearing Mr.
    Brympton's voice in her room, I went round by the dressing-room,
    thinking I would lay out her dinner-gown before going in. The
    dressing-room is a large room with a window over the portico that
    looks toward the gardens. Mr. Brympton's apartments are beyond. When
    I went in, the door into the bedroom was ajar, and I heard Mr.
    Brympton saying angrily:--"One would suppose he was the only person
    fit for you to talk to."

    "I don't have many visitors in winter," Mrs. Brympton answered

    "You have _me!_" he flung at her, sneering.

    "You are here so seldom," said she.

    "Well--whose fault is that? You make the place about as lively as a
    family vault--"

    With that I rattled the toilet-things, to give my mistress warning
    and she rose and called me in.

    The two dined alone, as usual, and I knew by Mr. Wace's manner at
    supper that things must be going badly. He quoted the prophets
    something terrible, and worked on the kitchen-maid so that she
    declared she wouldn't go down alone to put the cold meat in the
    ice-box. I felt nervous myself, and after I had put my mistress to
    bed I was half-tempted to go down again and persuade Mrs. Blinder to
    sit up awhile over a game of cards. But I heard her door closing for
    the night, and so I went on to my own room. The rain had begun
    again, and the drip, drip, drip seemed to be dropping into my brain.
    I lay awake listening to it, and turning over what my friend in town
    had said. What puzzled me was that it was always the maids who left...

    After a while I slept; but suddenly a loud noise wakened me. My bell
    had rung. I sat up, terrified by the unusual sound, which seemed to
    go on jangling through the darkness. My hands shook so that I
    couldn't find the matches. At length I struck a light and jumped out
    of bed. I began to think I must have been dreaming; but I looked at
    the bell against the wall, and there was the little hammer still

    I was just beginning to huddle on my clothes when I heard another
    sound. This time it was the door of the locked room opposite mine
    softly opening and closing. I heard the sound distinctly, and it
    frightened me so that I stood stock still. Then I heard a footstep
    hurrying down the passage toward the main house. The floor being
    carpeted, the sound was very faint, but I was quite sure it was a
    woman's step. I turned cold with the thought of it, and for a minute
    or two I dursn't breathe or move. Then I came to my senses.

    "Alice Hartley," says I to myself, "someone left that room just now
    and ran down the passage ahead of you. The idea isn't pleasant, but
    you may as well face it. Your mistress has rung for you, and to
    answer her bell you've got to go the way that other woman has gone."

    Well--I did it. I never walked faster in my life, yet I thought I
    should never get to the end of the passage or reach Mrs. Brympton's
    room. On the way I heard nothing and saw nothing: all was dark and
    quiet as the grave. When I reached my mistress's door the silence
    was so deep that I began to think I must be dreaming, and was
    half-minded to turn back. Then a panic seized me, and I knocked.

    There was no answer, and I knocked again, loudly. To my astonishment
    the door was opened by Mr. Brympton. He started back when he saw me,
    and in the light of my candle his face looked red and savage.

    _ "You!"_ he said, in a queer voice. _"How many of you are there, in
    God's name?"_

    At that I felt the ground give under me; but I said to myself that
    he had been drinking, and answered as steadily as I could: "May I go
    in, sir? Mrs. Brympton has rung for me."

    "You may all go in, for what I care," says he, and, pushing by me,
    walked down the hall to his own bedroom. I looked after him as he
    went, and to my surprise I saw that he walked as straight as a sober

    I found my mistress lying very weak and still, but she forced a
    smile when she saw me, and signed to me to pour out some drops for
    her. After that she lay without speaking, her breath coming quick,
    and her eyes closed. Suddenly she groped out with her hand, and "_
    Emma_," says she, faintly.

    "It's Hartley, madam," I said. "Do you want anything?"

    She opened her eyes wide and gave me a startled look.

    "I was dreaming," she said. "You may go, now, Hartley, and thank you
    kindly. I'm quite well again, you see." And she turned her face away
    from me.


    THERE was no more sleep for me that night, and I was thankful when
    daylight came.

    Soon afterward, Agnes called me to Mrs. Brympton. I was afraid she
    was ill again, for she seldom sent for me before nine, but I found
    her sitting up in bed, pale and drawn-looking, but quite herself.

    "Hartley," says she quickly, "will you put on your things at once
    and go down to the village for me? I want this prescription made
    up--" here she hesitated a minute and blushed--"and I should like
    you to be back again before Mr. Brympton is up."

    "Certainly, madam," I said.

    "And--stay a moment--" she called me back as if an idea had just
    struck her--"while you're waiting for the mixture, you'll have time
    to go on to Mr. Ranford's with this note."

    It was a two-mile walk to the village, and on my way I had time to
    turn things over in my mind. It struck me as peculiar that my
    mistress should wish the prescription made up without Mr. Brympton's
    knowledge; and, putting this together with the scene of the night
    before, and with much else that I had noticed and suspected, I began
    to wonder if the poor lady was weary of her life, and had come to
    the mad resolve of ending it. The idea took such hold on me that I
    reached the village on a run, and dropped breathless into a chair
    before the chemist's counter. The good man, who was just taking down
    his shutters, stared at me so hard that it brought me to myself.

    "Mr. Limmel," I says, trying to speak indifferent, "will you run
    your eye over this, and tell me if it's quite right?"

    He put on his spectacles and studied the prescription.

    "Why, it's one of Dr. Walton's," says he. "What should be wrong with

    "Well--is it dangerous to take?"

    "Dangerous--how do you mean?"

    I could have shaken the man for his stupidity.

    "I mean--if a person was to take too much of it--by mistake of
    course--" says I, my heart in my throat.

    "Lord bless you, no. It's only lime-water. You might feed it to a
    baby by the bottleful."

    I gave a great sigh of relief, and hurried on to Mr. Ranford's. But
    on the way another thought struck me. If there was nothing to
    conceal about my visit to the chemist's, was it my other errand that
    Mrs. Brympton wished me to keep private? Somehow, that thought
    frightened me worse than the other. Yet the two gentlemen seemed
    fast friends, and I would have staked my head on my mistress's
    goodness. I felt ashamed of my suspicions, and concluded that I was
    still disturbed by the strange events of the night. I left the note
    at Mr. Ranford's--and, hurrying back to Brympton, slipped in by a
    side door without being seen, as I thought.

    An hour later, however, as I was carrying in my mistress's
    breakfast, I was stopped in the hall by Mr. Brympton.

    "What were you doing out so early?" he says, looking hard at me.

    "Early--me, sir?" I said, in a tremble.

    "Come, come," he says, an angry red spot coming out on his forehead,
    "didn't I see you scuttling home through the shrubbery an hour or
    more ago?"

    I'm a truthful woman by nature, but at that a lie popped out
    ready-made. "No, sir, you didn't," said I, and looked straight back
    at him.

    He shrugged his shoulders and gave a sullen laugh. "I suppose you
    think I was drunk last night?" he asked suddenly.

    "No, sir, I don't," I answered, this time truthfully enough.

    He turned away with another shrug. "A pretty notion my servants have
    of me!" I heard him mutter as he walked off.

    Not till I had settled down to my afternoon's sewing did I realize
    how the events of the night had shaken me. I couldn't pass that
    locked door without a shiver. I knew I had heard someone come out of
    it, and walk down the passage ahead of me. I thought of speaking to
    Mrs. Blinder or to Mr. Wace, the only two in the house who appeared
    to have an inkling of what was going on, but I had a feeling that if
    I questioned them they would deny everything, and that I might learn
    more by holding my tongue and keeping my eyes open. The idea of
    spending another night opposite the locked room sickened me, and
    once I was seized with the notion of packing my trunk and taking the
    first train to town; but it wasn't in me to throw over a kind
    mistress in that manner, and I tried to go on with my sewing as if
    nothing had happened.

    I hadn't worked ten minutes before the sewing-machine broke down. It
    was one I had found in the house, a good machine, but a trifle out
    of order: Mrs. Blinder said it had never been used since Emma
    Saxon's death. I stopped to see what was wrong, and as I was working
    at the machine a drawer which I had never been able to open slid
    forward and a photograph fell out. I picked it up and sat looking at
    it in a maze. It was a woman's likeness, and I knew I had seen the
    face somewhere--the eyes had an asking look that I had felt on me
    before. And suddenly I remembered the pale woman in the passage.

    I stood up, cold all over, and ran out of the room. My heart seemed
    to be thumping in the top of my head, and I felt as if I should
    never get away from the look in those eyes. I went straight to Mrs.
    Blinder. She was taking her afternoon nap, and sat up with a jump
    when I came in.

    "Mrs. Blinder," said I, "who is that?" And I held out the

    She rubbed her eyes and stared.

    "Why, Emma Saxon," says she. "Where did you find it?"

    I looked hard at her for a minute. "Mrs. Blinder," I said, "I've
    seen that face before."

    Mrs. Blinder got up and walked over to the looking-glass. "Dear me!
    I must have been asleep," she says. "My front is all over one ear.
    And now do run along, Miss Hartley, dear, for I hear the clock
    striking four, and I must go down this very minute and put on the
    Virginia ham for Mr. Brympton's dinner."


    TO all appearances, things went on as usual for a week or two. The
    only difference was that Mr. Brympton stayed on, instead of going
    off as he usually did, and that Mr. Ranford never showed himself. I
    heard Mr. Brympton remark on this one afternoon when he was sitting
    in my mistress's room before dinner.

    "Where's Ranford?" says he. "He hasn't been near the house for a
    week. Does he keep away because I'm here?"

    Mrs. Brympton spoke so low that I couldn't catch her answer.

    "Well," he went on, "two's company and three's trumpery; I'm sorry
    to be in Ranford's way, and I suppose I shall have to take myself
    off again in a day or two and give him a show." And he laughed at
    his own joke.

    The very next day, as it happened, Mr. Ranford called. The footman
    said the three were very merry over their tea in the library, and
    Mr. Brympton strolled down to the gate with Mr. Ranford when he

    I have said that things went on as usual; and so they did with the
    rest of the household; but as for myself, I had never been the same
    since the night my bell had rung. Night after night I used to lie
    awake, listening for it to ring again, and for the door of the
    locked room to open stealthily. But the bell never rang, and I heard
    no sound across the passage. At last the silence began to be more
    dreadful to me than the most mysterious sounds. I felt that
    _someone_ were cowering there, behind the locked door, watching and
    listening as I watched and listened, and I could almost have cried
    out, "Whoever you are, come out and let me see you face to face, but
    don't lurk there and spy on me in the darkness!"

    Feeling as I did, you may wonder I didn't give warning. Once I very
    nearly did so; but at the last moment something held me back.
    Whether it was compassion for my mistress, who had grown more and
    more dependent on me, or unwillingness to try a new place, or some
    other feeling that I couldn't put a name to, I lingered on as if
    spell-bound, though every night was dreadful to me, and the days but
    little better.

    For one thing, I didn't like Mrs. Brympton's looks. She had never
    been the same since that night, no more than I had. I thought she
    would brighten up after Mr. Brympton left, but though she seemed
    easier in her mind, her spirits didn't revive, nor her strength
    either. She had grown attached to me, and seemed to like to have me
    about; and Agnes told me one day that, since Emma Saxon's death, I
    was the only maid her mistress had taken to. This gave me a warm
    feeling for the poor lady, though after all there was little I could
    do to help her.

    After Mr. Brympton's departure, Mr. Ranford took to coming again,
    though less often than formerly. I met him once or twice in the
    grounds, or in the village, and I couldn't but think there was a
    change in him too; but I set it down to my disordered fancy.

    The weeks passed, and Mr. Brympton had now been a month absent. We
    heard he was cruising with a friend in the West Indies, and Mr. Wace
    said that was a long way off, but though you had the wings of a dove
    and went to the uttermost parts of the earth, you couldn't get away
    from the Almighty. Agnes said that as long as he stayed away from
    Brympton, the Almighty might have him and welcome; and this raised a
    laugh, though Mrs. Blinder tried to look shocked, and Mr. Wace said
    the bears would eat us.

    We were all glad to hear that the West Indies were a long way off,
    and I remember that, in spite of Mr. Wace's solemn looks, we had a
    very merry dinner that day in the hall. I don't know if it was
    because of my being in better spirits, but I fancied Mrs. Brympton
    looked better too, and seemed more cheerful in her manner. She had
    been for a walk in the morning, and after luncheon she lay down in
    her room, and I read aloud to her. When she dismissed me I went to
    my own room feeling quite bright and happy, and for the first time
    in weeks walked past the locked door without thinking of it. As I
    sat down to my work I looked out and saw a few snow-flakes falling.
    The sight was pleasanter than the eternal rain, and I pictured to
    myself how pretty the bare gardens would look in their white mantle.
    It seemed to me as if the snow would cover up all the dreariness,
    indoors as well as out.

    The fancy had hardly crossed my mind when I heard a step at my side.
    I looked up, thinking it was Agnes.

    "Well, Agnes--" said I, and the words froze on my tongue; for there,
    in the door, stood Emma Saxon.

    I don't know how long she stood there. I only know I couldn't stir
    or take my eyes from her. Afterward I was terribly frightened, but
    at the time it wasn't fear I felt, but something deeper and quieter.
    She looked at me long and long, and her face was just one dumb
    prayer to me--but how in the world was I to help her? Suddenly she
    turned, and I heard her walk down the passage. This time I wasn't
    afraid to follow--I felt that I must know what she wanted. I sprang
    up and ran out. She was at the other end of the passage, and I
    expected her to take the turn toward my mistress's room; but instead
    of that she pushed open the door that led to the backstairs. I
    followed her down the stairs, and across the passageway to the back
    door. The kitchen and hall were empty at that hour, the servants
    being off duty, except for the footman, who was in the pantry. At
    the door she stood still a moment, with another look at me; then she
    turned the handle, and stepped out. For a minute I hesitated. Where
    was she leading me to? The door had closed softly after her, and I
    opened it and looked out, half-expecting to find that she had
    disappeared. But I saw her a few yards off, hurrying across the
    court-yard to the path through the woods. Her figure looked black
    and lonely in the snow, and for a second my heart failed me and I
    thought of turning back. But all the while she was drawing me after
    her; and catching up an old shawl of Mrs. Blinder's I ran out into
    the open.

    Emma Saxon was in the wood-path now. She walked on steadily, and I
    followed at the same pace, till we passed out of the gates and
    reached the high-road. Then she struck across the open fields to the
    village. By this time the ground was white, and as she climbed the
    slope of a bare hill ahead of me I noticed that she left no
    foot-prints behind her. At sight of that, my heart shrivelled up
    within me, and my knees were water. Somehow, it was worse here than
    indoors. She made the whole countryside seem lonely as the grave,
    with none but us two in it, and no help in the wide world.

    Once I tried to go back; but she turned and looked at me, and it was
    as if she had dragged me with ropes. After that I followed her like
    a dog. We came to the village, and she led me through it, past the
    church and the blacksmith's shop, and down the lane to Mr.
    Ranford's. Mr. Ranford's house stands close to the road: a plain
    old-fashioned building, with a flagged path leading to the door
    between box-borders. The lane was deserted, and as I turned into it,
    I saw Emma Saxon pause under the old elm by the gate. And now
    another fear came over me. I saw that we had reached the end of our
    journey, and that it was my turn to act. All the way from Brympton I
    had been asking myself what she wanted of me, but I had followed in
    a trance, as it were, and not till I saw her stop at Mr. Ranford's
    gate did my brain begin to clear itself. It stood a little way off
    in the snow, my heart beating fit to strangle me, and my feet frozen
    to the ground; and she stood under the elm and watched me.

    I knew well enough that she hadn't led me there for nothing. I felt
    there was something I ought to say or do--but how was I to guess
    what it was? I had never thought harm of my mistress and Mr.
    Ranford, but I was sure now that, from one cause or another, some
    dreadful thing hung over them. _She_ knew what it was; she would
    tell me if she could; perhaps she would answer if I questioned her.

    It turned me faint to think of speaking to her; but I plucked up
    heart and dragged myself across the few yards between us. As I did
    so, I heard the house-door open, and saw Mr. Ranford approaching. He
    looked handsome and cheerful, as my mistress had looked that
    morning, and at sight of him the blood began to flow again in my

    "Why, Hartley," said he, "what's the matter? I saw you coming down
    the lane just now, and came out to see if you had taken root in the
    snow." He stopped and stared at me. "What are you looking at?" he

    I turned toward the elm as he spoke, and his eyes followed me; but
    there was no one there. The lane was empty as far as the eye could

    A sense of helplessness came over me. She was gone, and I had not
    been able to guess what she wanted. Her last look had pierced me to
    the marrow; and yet it had not told me! All at once, I felt more
    desolate than when she had stood there watching me. It seemed as if
    she had left me all alone to carry the weight of the secret I
    couldn't guess. The snow went round me in great circles, and the
    ground fell away from me....

    A drop of brandy and the warmth of Mr. Ranford's fire soon brought
    me to, and I insisted on being driven back at once to Brympton. It
    was nearly dark, and I was afraid my mistress might be wanting me. I
    explained to Mr. Ranford that I had been out for a walk and had been
    taken with a fit of giddiness as I passed his gate. This was true
    enough; yet I never felt more like a liar than when I said it.

    When I dressed Mrs. Brympton for dinner she remarked on my pale
    looks and asked what ailed me. I told her I had a headache, and she
    said she would not require me again that evening, and advised me to
    go to bed.

    It was a fact that I could scarcely keep on my feet; yet I had no
    fancy to spend a solitary evening in my room. I sat downstairs in
    the hall as long as I could hold my head up; but by nine I crept
    upstairs, too weary to care what happened if I could but get my head
    on a pillow. The rest of the household went to bed soon afterward;
    they kept early hours when the master was away, and before ten I
    heard Mrs. Blinder's door close, and Mr. Wace's soon after.

    It was a very still night, earth and air all muffled in snow. Once
    in bed I felt easier, and lay quiet, listening to the strange noises
    that come out in a house after dark. Once I thought I heard a door
    open and close again below: it might have been the glass door that
    led to the gardens. I got up and peered out of the window; but it
    was in the dark of the moon, and nothing visible outside but the
    streaking of snow against the panes.

    I went back to bed and must have dozed, for I jumped awake to the
    furious ringing of my bell. Before my head was clear I had sprung
    out of bed, and was dragging on my clothes. _It is going to happen
    now_, I heard myself saying; but what I meant I had no notion. My
    hands seemed to be covered with glue--I thought I should never get
    into my clothes. At last I opened my door and peered down the
    passage. As far as my candle-flame carried, I could see nothing
    unusual ahead of me. I hurried on, breathless; but as I pushed open
    the baize door leading to the main hall my heart stood still, for
    there at the head of the stairs was Emma Saxon, peering dreadfully
    down into the darkness.

    For a second I couldn't stir; but my hand slipped from the door, and
    as it swung shut the figure vanished. At the same instant there came
    another sound from below stairs--a stealthy mysterious sound, as of
    a latch-key turning in the house-door. I ran to Mrs. Brympton's room
    and knocked.

    There was no answer, and I knocked again. This time I heard some one
    moving in the room; the bolt slipped back and my mistress stood
    before me. To my surprise I saw that she had not undressed for the
    night. She gave me a startled look.

    "What is this, Hartley?" she says in a whisper. "Are you ill? What
    are you doing here at this hour?"

    "I am not ill, madam; but my bell rang."

    At that she turned pale, and seemed about to fall.

    "You are mistaken," she said harshly; "I didn't ring. You must have
    been dreaming." I had never heard her speak in such a tone. "Go back
    to bed," she said, closing the door on me.

    But as she spoke I heard sounds again in the hall below: a man's
    step this time; and the truth leaped out on me.

    "Madam," I said, pushing past her, "there is someone in the house--"


    "Mr. Brympton, I think--I hear his step below--"

    A dreadful look came over her, and without a word, she dropped flat
    at my feet. I fell on my knees and tried to lift her: by the way she
    breathed I saw it was no common faint. But as I raised her head
    there came quick steps on the stairs and across the hall: the door
    was flung open, and there stood Mr. Brympton, in his
    travelling-clothes, the snow dripping from him. He drew back with a
    start as he saw me kneeling by my mistress.

    "What the devil is this?" he shouted. He was less high-colored than
    usual, and the red spot came out on his forehead.

    "Mrs. Brympton has fainted, sir," said I.

    He laughed unsteadily and pushed by me. "It's a pity she didn't
    choose a more convenient moment. I'm sorry to disturb her, but--"

    I raised myself up, aghast at the man's action.

    "Sir," said I, "are you mad? What are you doing?"

    "Going to meet a friend," said he, and seemed to make for the

    At that my heart turned over. I don't know what I thought or feared;
    but I sprang up and caught him by the sleeve.

    "Sir, sir," said I, "for pity's sake look at your wife!"

    He shook me off furiously.

    "It seems that's done for me," says he, and caught hold of the
    dressing-room door.

    At that moment I heard a slight noise inside. Slight as it was, he
    heard it too, and tore the door open; but as he did so he dropped
    back. On the threshold stood Emma Saxon. All was dark behind her,
    but I saw her plainly, and so did he. He threw up his hands as if to
    hide his face from her; and when I looked again she was gone.

    He stood motionless, as if the strength had run out of him; and in
    the stillness my mistress suddenly raised herself, and opening her
    eyes fixed a look on him. Then she fell back, and I saw the
    death-flutter pass over her....

    We buried her on the third day, in a driving snow-storm. There were
    few people in the church, for it was bad weather to come from town,
    and I've a notion my mistress was one that hadn't many near friends.
    Mr. Ranford was among the last to come, just before they carried her
    up the aisle. He was in black, of course, being such a friend of the
    family, and I never saw a gentleman so pale. As he passed me, I
    noticed that he leaned a trifle on a stick he carried; and I fancy
    Mr. Brympton noticed it too, for the red spot came out sharp on his
    forehead, and all through the service he kept staring across the
    church at Mr. Ranford, instead of following the prayers as a mourner

    When it was over and we went out to the graveyard, Mr. Ranford had
    disappeared, and as soon as my poor mistress's body was underground,
    Mr. Brympton jumped into the carriage nearest the gate and drove off
    without a word to any of us. I heard him call out, "To the station,"
    and we servants went back alone to the house.
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