Chapter 38

THROUGH THE LONG NIGHT

"They must have gone crazy, simply crazy!" said Madeleine, making quick, excited gestures. "Mrs. Sandworth, of course--a person can hardly blame her for anything! She's a cipher with the rim off when the doctor has made up his mind. But, even so, shouldn't you think in common decency she'd have let us know what they were up to in time to prevent it? _I_ never heard a word of this sickening business of Ariadne's adoption till day before yesterday. Did _you_?" she ended half-suspiciously.

Mrs. Mortimer stopped her restless pace up and down the old-fashioned, high-ceilinged room, and made a gesture for silence. "I thought I heard something--up there," she explained, motioning to the upper part of the house. "I wonder what made Lydia so sure beforehand that she wouldn't live through this?"

"Well, I guess from what the nurse told me there _isn't_ much chance for her," said Madeleine in a hard voice. Her color was not so high as usual, her beautiful face looked grim, and she spoke in a bitter tone of seriousness that made her seem quite another person. Marietta's thin, dark countenance gave less indication of her mood, whatever it was. She looked sallow and worn, and only her black eyes, hot and gloomy, showed emotion.

Both women were silent a moment, listening to the sound of footsteps overhead. "It seems as though it _must_ be over soon now!" cried the childless one of the two, drawing in her breath sharply. "It makes me furious to think of women suffering so. Bertha Williamson was telling me the other day about when her little Walter was born--it made me _sick_!"

The matron looked at her and shivered a little, but made no response.

"The nurse says Lydia is mostly unconscious now. Perhaps the worst is over for her! Poor Lyd! What do you suppose made her act so?" went on Madeleine, moving about restlessly, her voice uncertain. She went to the window, and drew aside the shade to look out into the blackness. "Oh, I wish the men would come! What time is it, do you suppose? Yes, I see; half-past three. Oh, it _must_ be over soon! I wish they'd come! You telegraphed George, didn't you? Heavens! how it rains!"

"He was to come on the midnight train. Is your husband--"

"Oh, he was horrid about it--wanted me to do it all myself. He's in the midst of some big deal or other. But I told him he'd _have_ to come and help out, or I'd--I'd _kill_ him! He'll bring the lawyer."

"Where do you suppose?" began Marietta, looking over her shoulder.

"Out in his shanty in the Black Rock woods," said Madeleine harshly, "with no idea of what's going on. Just before you came, the doctor sent out for a messenger to take him word, and you'd better believe I got hold of that messenger!"

"Of course that'll make things easier," said Marietta.

"Oh, it won't be hard at all," Madeleine assured her; "the lawyer'll be right at hand; it'll be over in a minute."

Marietta's face altered. She drew back from the other woman. "Oh, Madeleine! you act as though--you were counting on Lydia's--"

"No; I'm not. I used to think a lot of Lydia before she disgraced poor Paul's memory in this way! But you see it'll be easy to do, one way or the other. If she--if she doesn't--why, Marietta, you know Lydia! She never can hold out against you and George, the nearest she has in the world. I should think you'd feel awfully about what people are saying--her letting Ariadne be adopted in that scandalous way when she had brothers and sisters. I should think you'd feel like asserting yourselves. _I_ do, certainly! I'm just as near to Ariadne as you are! And I know George is perfectly furious about the whole business!"

"But maybe the doctor won't let us go in, right in to her--"

A long-cherished grudge rose to the surface in Mrs. Lowder's energetic reply: "Well, I guess this is one time when the high-and-mighty Dr. Melton'll have to be shoved on one side, and if necessary I'll do the shoving!"

"You feel justified?"

"Justified! I should think I do! Justified in keeping my brother's child out of the clutches of that--and if my husband and your brother together can't raise the cash and the pull to get Ariadne away from him, too, I miss my guess. They will; of course they will, or what's the use of having money when you go to law!"

Marietta was silent. Madeleine took her lack of responsiveness as due to the resentment of a poor person to her remarks as to the value of wealth in a democracy. She frowned, regretting a false step, and went on conciliatorily: "Of course we're only doing what any decent family is bound to do--protecting the children. It's what Lydia herself would want if she were in her right mind."

She fell silent now, restless, fidgeting about, picking up small objects and setting them down unseeingly, and occasionally going to the window to look out at the hot, rainy night. She was in mourning for Paul, and above her black draperies her face was now like marble.

Mrs. Mortimer, also in black, sat in a determinedly passive silence.

Finally, the younger woman broke out: "Oh, I'll go crazy if I just stay here! I'm going upstairs to see the nurse again."

In an instant she was back, her face whiter than before.

"It's a boy--alive, all right--half an hour ago. Would you think they'd let us sit here and never tell us--" Her voice changed. "A little boy--" She sat down.

"How is Lydia?" asked Lydia's sister.

"--a little boy," said Madeleine. She addressed the other woman peremptorily. "I want him! You can have Ariadne!" She flushed as she spoke, and added defiantly: "I know I always said I didn't want children!"

"How is Lydia?" Marietta broke in with an angry impatience.

"Very low, the nurse said; Dr. Melton wouldn't give any hope."

Marietta's face twitched. Her large white hands clasped each other hard.

"I'm going into the doctor's office to telephone my husband," went on Madeleine; "there's not a minute to lose."

After she was alone, Mrs. Mortimer's thin, dark face settled into tragic repose. She leaned back her head and closed her eyes, from which a slow tear ran down over her sallow cheeks. There was no sound but the patter of summer rain on the porch roof outside.

Firm, light steps came hastily to the outer door, the door clicked open and shut, the steps came down the hall. Mrs. Mortimer sat up and opened her eyes. She saw a tall man in rough clothes, hatless, with raindrops glistening on his bright, close-cropped hair and beard. He was hesitating at the foot of the stairs, but at her slight movement he caught sight of her and rushed toward her. "Has she--is there--" he began.

Mrs. Mortimer gazed intently into his quivering face. "My sister has given birth to a son, and lies at the point of death," she said with her unsparing conciseness, but not harshly.

The man she addressed threw up one hand as though she had struck him, and took an aimless, unsteady step. Mrs. Mortimer did not turn away her eyes from the revelation of his face. Her own grew sterner. She was trying to bring herself to speak again. She put her hand on his arm to attract his attention, and looked with a fierce earnestness into his face. "Listen," she said. "We were wrong, all of us, about Lydia. We were wrong about everything. You were right. I wanted to tell you. If my sister had lived--she is so young--I hoped--" She turned away to hide the sudden break-up of her rigid calm. "Little Lydia!" she cried. "Oh, misery! misery!"

Behind them was the sound of a shutting door and a key turned in the lock. They both spun about and saw Mrs. Lowder slip the key into the bosom of her dress. Her aspect of white determination suited this theatrical gesture, as she placed herself quickly before the door. "If you will promise me solemnly that you will leave the house at once, I will let you out," she said, in a high, shaking voice.

Rankin did not answer. He looked at her as though he did not see her.

"What business have you here, anyhow?" she went on fiercely.

"I am here to adopt Mrs. Hollister's second child," stated Rankin, collecting himself with an effort.

Mrs. Lowder's pale face flushed. "You'll do nothing of the sort. I shall adopt my brother's child myself! How _dare_ you--a perfect stranger--"

"Mrs. Hollister wishes it," said Rankin.

"Lydia is out of her mind--if she is alive!" said Madeleine, trembling excitedly, "and the child's own relatives are the proper--you needn't think you are going to keep Ariadne, either! It can be proved in any court that Lydia was crazy, and that her family are the ones that ought to--"

"That will be decided in the future," said Rankin. "For the present I have a legal right to Ariadne, and I shall have to the boy!"

"Do you mean you would dare to lay hands on a woman?" cried Madeleine, extending her arms across the door.

Rankin turned, and in one stride had reached the window, which stood open to the hot, rainy summer night. He was gone in an instant.

"Quick! quick! Lock the front door!" cried Madeleine, fumbling with the key. She turned it and darted into the hallway, and fell back, crying angrily: "Oh, no! there's the back door--and the doctor's office and all the windows. It's no use! It's no use!" She broke into a storm of sobs. "You didn't help a bit!" she cried furiously to the other woman. "You didn't even try to help!"

It was an accusation against which Marietta did not attempt to defend herself.