No Name
by Wilkie Collins
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman
Return to Part 1 of 2

It was a fine moonlight night. He looked round at Magdalen, as he
said those words, to see if her intractable depression of spirits
had seized on her again.

No! her variable humor had changed once more. She looked about
her with a flaunting, feverish gayety; she scoffed at the bare
idea of any serious difficulty with Mrs. Lecount; she mimicked
Noel Vanstone's high-pitched voice, and repeated Noel Vanstone's
high-flown compliments, with a bitter enjoyment of turning him
into ridicule. Instead of running into the house as before, she
sauntered carelessly by her companion's side, humming little
snatches of song, and kicking the loose pebbles right and left on
the garden-walk. Captain Wragge hailed the change in her as the
best of good omens. He thought he saw plain signs that the family
spirit was at last coming back again.

"Well," he said, as he lit her bedroom candle for her, "when we
all meet on the Parade tomorrow, we shall see, as our nautical
friends say, how the land lies. One thing I can tell you, my dear
girl -- I have used my eyes to very little purpose if there is
not a storm brewing tonight in Mr. Noel Vanstone's domestic
atmosphere."

The captain's habitual penetration had not misled him. As soon as
the door of Sea-view Cottage was closed on the parting guests,
Mrs. Lecount made an effort to assert the authority which
Magdalen's influence was threatening already.

She employed every artifice of which she was mistress to
ascertain Magdalen's true position in Noel Vanstone's estimation.
She tried again and again to lure him into an unconscious
confession of the pleasure which he felt already in the society
of the beautiful Miss Bygrave; she twined herself in and out of
every weakness in his character, as the frogs and efts twined
themselves in and out of the rock-work of her Aquarium. But she
made one serious mistake which very clever people in their
intercourse with their intellectual inferiors are almost
universally apt to commit -- she trusted implicitly to the folly
of a fool. She forgot that one of the lowest of human qualities
-- cunning -- is exactly the capacity which is often most largely
developed in the lowest of intellectual natures. If she had been
honestly angry with her master, she would probably have
frightened him. If she had opened her mind plainly to his view,
she would have astonished him by presenting a chain of ideas to
his limited perceptions which they were not strong enough to
grasp; his curiosity would have led him to ask for an
explanation; and by practicing on that curiosity, she might have
had him at her mercy. As it was, she set her cunning against his,
and the fool proved a match for her. Noel Vanstone, to whom all
large-minded motives under heaven were inscrutable mysteries, saw
the small-minded motive at the bottom of his housekeeper's
conduct with as instantaneous a penetration as if he had been a
man of the highest ability. Mrs. Lecount left him for the night,
foiled, and knowing she was foiled -- left him, with the tigerish
side of her uppermost, and a low-lived longing in her elegant
finger-nails to set them in her master's face.

She was not a woman to be beaten by one defeat or by a hundred.
She was positively determined to think, and think again, until
she had found a means of checking the growing intimacy with the
Bygraves at once and forever. In the solitude of her own room she
recovered her composure, and set herself for the first time to
review the conclusions which she had gathered from the events of
the day.

There was something vaguely familiar to her in the voice of this
Miss Bygrave, and, at the same time, in unaccountable
contradiction, something strange to her as well. The face and
figure of the young lady were entirely new to her. It was a
striking face, and a striking figure; and if she had seen either
at any former period, she would certainly have remembered it.
Miss Bygrave was unquestionably a stranger; and yet -- -

She had got no further than this during the day; she could get no
further now: the chain of thought broke. Her mind took up the
fragments, and formed another chain which attached itself to the
lady who was kept in seclusion -- to the aunt, who looked well,
and yet was nervous; who was nervous, and yet able to ply her
needle and thread. An incomprehensible resemblance to some
unremembered voice in the niece; an unintelligible malady which
kept the aunt secluded from public view; an extraordinary range
of scientific cultivation in the uncle, associated with a
coarseness and audacity of manner which by no means suggested the
idea of a man engaged in studious pursuits -- were the members of
this small family of three what they seemed on the surface of
them?

With that question on her mind, she went to bed.

As soon as the candle was out, the darkness seemed to communicate
some inexplicable perversity to her thoughts. They wandered back
from present things to past, in spite of her. They brought her
old master back to life again; they revived forgotten sayings and
doings in the English circle at Zurich; they veered away to the
old man's death-bed at Brighton; they moved from Brighton to
London; they entered the bare, comfortless room at Vauxhall Walk;
they set the Aquarium back in its place on the kitchen table, and
put the false Miss Garth in the chair by the side of it, shading
her inflamed eyes from the light; they placed the anonymous
letter, the letter which glanced darkly at a conspiracy, in her
hand again, and brought her with it into her master's presence;
they recalled the discussion about filling in the blank space in
the advertisement, and the quarrel that followed when she told
Noel Vanstone that the sum he had offered was preposterously
small; they revived an old doubt which had not troubled her for
weeks past -- a doubt whether the threatened conspiracy had
evaporated in mere words, or whether she and her master were
likely to hear of it again. At this point her thoughts broke off
once more, and there was a momentary blank. The next instant she
started up in bed; her heart beating violently, her head whirling
as if she had lost her senses. With electric suddenness her mind
pieced together its scattered multitude of thoughts, and put them
before her plainly under one intelligible form. In the
all-mastering agitation of the moment, she clapped her hands
together, and cried out suddenly in the darkness:

"Miss Vanstone again!!!"

She got out of bed and kindled the light once more. Steady as her
nerves were, the shock of her own suspicion had shaken them. Her
firm hand trembled as she opened her dressing-case and took from
it a little bottle of sal-volatile. In spite of her smooth cheeks
and her well-preserved hair, she looked every year of her age as
she mixed the spirit with water, greedily drank it, and, wrapping
her dressing-gown round her, sat down on the bedside to get
possession again of her calmer self.

She was quite incapable of tracing the mental process which had
led her to discovery. She could not get sufficiently far from
herself to see that her half-formed conclusions on the subject of
the Bygraves had ended in making that family objects of suspicion
to her; that the association of ideas had thereupon carried her
mind back to that other object of suspicion which was represented
by the conspiracy against her master; and that the two ideas of
those two separate subjects of distrust, coming suddenly in
contact, had struck the light. She was not able to reason back in
this way from the effect to the cause. She could only feel that
the suspicion had become more than a suspicion already: c
onviction itself could not have been more firmly rooted in her
mind.

Looking back at Magdalen b y the new light now thrown on her,
Mrs. Lecount would fain have persuaded herself that she
recognized some traces left of the false Miss Garth's face and
figure in the graceful and beautiful girl who had sat at her
master's table hardly an hour since -- that she found
resemblances now, which she had never thought of before, between
the angry voice she had heard in Vauxhall Walk and the smooth,
well-bred tones which still hung on her ears after the evening's
experience downstairs. She would fain have persuaded herself that
she had reached these results with no undue straining of the
truth as she really knew it, but the effort was in vain.

Mrs. Lecount was not a woman to waste time and thought in trying
to impose on herself. She accepted the inevitable conclusion that
the guesswork of a moment had led her to discovery. And, more
than that, she recognized the plain truth -unwelcome as it was --
that the conviction now fixed in her own mind was thus far
unsupported by a single fragment of producible evidence to
justify it to the minds of others.

Under these circumstances, what was the safe course to take with
her master?

If she candidly told him, when they met the next morning, what
had passed through her mind that night, her knowledge of Noel
Vanstone warned her that one of two results would certainly
happen. Either he would be angry and disputatious; would ask for
proofs; and, finding none forthcoming, would accuse her of
alarming him without a cause, to serve her own jealous end of
keeping Magdalen out of the house; or he would be seriously
startled, would clamor for the protection of the law, and would
warn the Bygraves to stand on their defense at the outset. If
Magdalen only had been concerned in the plot this latter
consequence would have assumed no great importance in the
housekeeper's mind. But seeing the deception as she now saw it,
she was far too clever a woman to fail in estimating the
captain's inexhaustible fertility of resource at its true value.
"If I can't meet this impudent villain with plain proofs to help
me," thought Mrs. Lecount, "I may open my master s eyes to-morrow
morning, and Mr. Bygrave will shut them up again before night.
The rascal is playing with all his own cards under the table, and
he will win the game to a certainty, if he sees my hand at
starting."

This policy of waiting was so manifestly the wise policy -- the
wily Mr. Bygrave was so sure to have provided himself, in case of
emergency, with evidence to prove the identity which he and his
niece had assumed for their purpose -- that Mrs. Lecount at once
decided to keep her own counsel the next morning, and to pause
before attacking the conspiracy until she could produce
unanswerable facts to help her. Her master's acquaintance with
the Bygraves was only an acquaintance of one day's standing.
There was no fear of its developing into a dangerous intimacy if
she merely allowed it to continue for a few days more, and if she
permanently checked it, at the latest, in a week's time.

In that period what measures could she take to remove the
obstacles which now stood in her way, and to provide herself with
the weapons which she now wanted?

Reflection showed her three different chances in her favor --
three different ways of arriving at the necessary discovery.

The first chance was to cultivate friendly terms with Magdalen,
and then, taking her unawares, to entrap her into betraying
herself in Noel Vanstone's presence. The second chance was to
write to the elder Miss Vanstone, and to ask (with some alarming
reason for putting the question) for information on the subject
of her younger sister's whereabouts, and of any peculiarities in
her personal appearance which might enable a stranger to identify
her. The third chance was to penetrate the mystery of Mrs.
Bygrave's seclusion, and to ascertain at a personal interview
whether the invalid lady's real complaint might not possibly be a
defective capacity for keeping her husband's secrets. Resolving
to try all three chances, in the order in which they are here
enumerated, and to set her snares for Magdalen on the day that
was now already at hand, Mrs. Lecount at last took off her
dressing-gown and allowed her weaker nature to plead with her for
a little sleep.

The dawn was breaking over the cold gray sea as she lay down in
her bed again. The last idea in her mind before she fell asleep
was characteristic of the woman -- it was an idea that threatened
the captain. "He has trifled with the sacred memory of my
husband," thought the Professor's widow. "On my life and honor, I
will make him pay for it."

Early the next morning Magdalen began the day, according to her
agreement with the captain, by taking Mrs. Wragge out for a
little exercise at an hour when there was no fear of her
attracting the public attention. She pleaded hard to be left at
home; having the Oriental Cashmere Robe still on her mind, and
feeling it necessary to read her directions for dressmaking, for
the hundredth time at least, before (to use her own expression)
she could "screw up her courage to put the scissors into the
stuff." But her companion would take no denial, and she was
forced to go out. The one guileless purpose of the life which
Magdalen now led was the resolution that poor Mrs. Wragge should
not be made a prisoner on her account; and to that resolution she
mechanically clung, as the last token left her by which she knew
her better-self.

They returned later than usual to breakfast. While Mrs. Wragge
was upstairs, straightening herself from head to foot to meet the
morning inspection of her husband's orderly eye; and while
Magdalen and the captain were waiting for her in the parlor, the
servant came in with a note from Sea-view Cottage. The messenger
was waiting for an answer, and the note was addressed to Captain
Wragge.

The captain opened the note and read these lines:

"DEAR SIR -- Mr. Noel Vanstone desires me to write and tell you
that he proposes enjoying this fine day by taking a long drive to
a place on the coast here called Dunwich. He is anxious to know
if you will share the expense of a carriage, and give him the
pleasure of your company and Miss Bygrave's company on this
excursion. I am kindly permitted to be one of the party; and if I
may say so without impropriety, I would venture to add that I
shall feel as much pleasure as my master if you and your young
lady will consent to join us. We propose leaving Aldborough
punctually at eleven o'clock. Believe me, dear sir, your humble
servant,

"VIRGINIE LECOUNT."

"Who is the letter from?" asked Magdalen, noticing a change in
Captain Wragge's face as he read it. "What do they want with us
at Sea-view Cottage?"

"Pardon me," said the captain, gravely, "this requires
consideration. Let me have a minute or two to think."

He took a few turns up and down the room, then suddenly stepped
aside to a table in a corner on which his writing materials were
placed. "I was not born yesterday, ma'am!" said the captain,
speaking jocosely to himself. He winked his brown eye, took up
his pen, and wrote the answer.

"Can you speak now?" inquired Magdalen, when the servant had left
the room. "What does that letter say, and how have you answered
it?"

The captain placed the letter in her hand. "I have accepted the
invitation," he replied, quietly.

Magdalen read the letter. "Hidden enmity yesterday," she said,
"and open friendship to-day. What does it mean?"

"It means," said Captain Wragge, "that Mrs. Lecount is even
sharper than I thought her. She has found you out."

"Impossible," cried Magdalen. "Quite impossible in the time."

"I can't say _how_ she has found you out," proceeded the captain,
with perfect composure. "She may know more of your voice than we
supposed she knew. Or she may have thought us, on reflection,
rather a suspicious family; and anything suspicious in which a
woman was concerned may have taken her mind back to that morning
call of yours in Vauxhall Walk. Whichever way it may be, the
meaning of this sudden change is clear enough. She has found you
out; and she wants to put  her discovery to the proof by slipping
in an awkward question or two, under cover of a little fr iendly
talk. My experience of humanity has been a varied one, and Mrs.
Lecount is not the first sharp practitioner in petticoats whom I
have had to deal with. All the world's a stage, my dear girl, and
one of the scenes on our little stage is shut in from this
moment."

With those words he took his copy of Joyce's Scientific Dialogues
out of his pocket. "You're done with already, my friend!" said
the captain, giving his useful information a farewell smack with
his hand, and locking it up in the cupboard. "Such is human
popularity!" continued the indomitable vagabond, putting the key
cheerfully in his pocket. "Yesterday Joyce was my all-in-all.
To-day I don't care that for him!" He snapped his fingers and sat
down to breakfast.

"I don't understand you," said Magdalen, looking at him angrily.
"Are you leaving me to my own resources for the future?"

"My dear girl!" cried Captain Wragge, "can't you accustom
yourself to my dash of humor yet? I have done with my ready-made
science simply because I am quite sure that Mrs. Lecount has done
believing in me. Haven't I accepted the invitation to Dunwich?
Make your mind easy. The help I have given you already counts for
nothing compared with the help I am going to give you now. My
honor is concerned in bowling out Mrs. Lecount. This last move of
hers has made it a personal matter between us. _The woman
actually thinks she can take me in!!!"_" cried the captain,
striking his knife-handle on the table in a transport of virtuous
indignation. "By heavens, I never was so insulted before in my
life! Draw your chair in to the table, my dear, and give me half
a minute's attention to what I have to say next."

Magdalen obeyed him. Captain Wragge cautiously lowered his voice
before he went on.

"I have told you all along," he said, "the one thing needful is
never to let Mrs. Lecount catch you with your wits
wool-gathering. I say the same after what has happened this
morning. Let her suspect you! I defy her to find a fragment of
foundation for her suspicions, unless we help her. We shall see
to-day if she has been foolish enough to betray herself to her
master before she has any facts to support her. I doubt it. If
she has told him, we will rain down proofs of our identity with
the Bygraves on his feeble little head till it absolutely aches
with conviction. You have two things to do on this excursion.
First, to distrust every word Mrs. Lecount says to you. Secondly,
to exert all your fascinations, and make sure of Mr. Noel
Vanstone, dating from to-day. I will give you the opportunity
when we leave the carriage and take our walk at Dunwich. Wear
your hat, wear your smile; do your figure justice, lace tight;
put on your neatest boots and brightest gloves; tie the miserable
little wretch to your apron-string -- tie him fast; and leave the
whole management of the matter after that to me. Steady! here is
Mrs. Wragge: we must be doubly careful in looking after her now.
Show me your cap, Mrs. Wragge! show me your shoes! What do I see
on your apron? A spot? I won't have spots! Take it off after
breakfast, and put on another. Pull your chair to the middle of
the table -- more to the left -- more still. Make the breakfast."

At a quarter before eleven Mrs. Wragge (with her own entire
concurrence) was dismissed to the back room, to bewilder herself
over the science of dressmaking for the rest of the day.
Punctually as the clock struck the hour, Mrs. Lecount and her
master drove up to the gate of North Shingles, and found Magdalen
and Captain Wragge waiting for them in the garden.

On the way to Dunwich nothing occurred to disturb the enjoyment
of the drive. Noel Vanstone was in excellent health and high
good-humor. Lecount had apologized for the little
misunderstanding of the previous night; Lecount had petitioned
for the excursion as a treat to herself. He thought of these
concessions, and looked at Magdalen, and smirked and simpered
without intermission. Mrs. Lecount acted her part to perfection.
She was motherly with Magdalen and tenderly attentive to Noel
Vanstone. She was deeply interested in Captain Wragge's
conversation, and meekly disappointed to find it turn on general
subjects, to the exclusion of science. Not a word or look escaped
her which hinted in the remotest degree at her real purpose. She
was dressed with her customary elegance and propriety; and she
was the only one of the party on that sultry summer's day who was
perfectly cool in the hottest part of the journey.

As they left the carriage on their arrival at Dunwich, the
captain seized a moment when Mrs. Lecount's eye was off him and
fortified Magdalen by a last warning word.

"'Ware the cat!" he whispered. "She will show her claws on the
way back."

They left the village and walked to the ruins of a convent near
at hand -- the last relic of the once populous city of Dunwich
which has survived the destruction of the place, centuries since,
by the all-devouring sea. After looking at the ruins, they sought
the shade of a little wood between the village and the low
sand-hills which overlook the German Ocean. Here Captain Wragge
maneuvered so as to let Magdalen and Noel Vanstone advance some
distance in front of Mrs. Lecount and himself, took the wrong
path, and immediately lost his way with the most consummate
dexterity. After a few minutes' wandering (in the wrong
direction), he reached an open space near the sea; and politely
opening his camp-stool for the housekeeper's accommodation,
proposed waiting where they were until the missing members of the
party came that way and discovered them.

Mrs. Lecount accepted the proposal. She was perfectly well aware
that her escort had lost himself on purpose, but that discovery
exercised no disturbing influence on the smooth amiability of her
manner. Her day of reckoning with the captain had not come yet --
she merely added the new item to her list, and availed herself of
the camp-stool. Captain Wragge stretched himself in a romantic
attitude at her feet, and the two determined enemies (grouped
like two lovers in a picture) fell into as easy and pleasant a
conversation as if they had been friends of twenty years'
standing.

"I know you, ma'am!" thought the captain, while Mrs. Lecount was
talking to him. "You would like to catch me tripping in my
ready-made science, and you wouldn't object to drown me in the
Professor's Tank!"

"You villain with the brown eye and the green!" thought Mrs.
Lecount, as the captain caught the ball of conversation in his
turn; "thick as your skin is, I'll sting you through it yet!"

In this frame of mind toward each other they talked fluently on
general subjects, on public affairs, on local scenery, on society
in England and society in Switzerland, on health, climate, books,
marriage and money -- talked, without a moment's pause, without a
single misunderstanding on either side for nearly an hour, before
Magdalen and Noel Vanstone strayed that way and made the party of
four complete again.

When they reached the inn at which the carriage was waiting for
them, Captain Wragge left Mrs. Lecount in undisturbed possession
of her master, and signed to Magdalen to drop back for a moment
and speak to him.

"Well?" asked the captain, in a whisper, "is he fast to your
apron-string?"

She shuddered from head to foot as she answered.

"He has kissed my hand," she said. "Does that tell you enough?
Don't let him sit next me on the way home! I have borne all I can
bear -- spare me for the rest of the day."

"I'll put you on the front seat of the carriage," replied the
captain, "side by side with me."

On the journey back Mrs. Lecount verified Captain Wragge's
prediction. She showed her claws.

The time could not have been better chosen; the circumstances
could hardly have favored her more. Magdalen's spirits were
depressed: she was weary in body and mind; and she sat exactly
opposite the housekeeper, who had been compelled, by the new
arrangement, to occupy the seat of honor next her master. With
every facility for observing the slightest changes that passed
over Magdalen's face, Mrs. Lecount tried he r first experiment by
leading the conversation to the subject of London, and to the
relative adv antages offered to residents by the various quarters
of the metropolis on both sides of the river. The ever-ready
Wragge penetrated her intention sooner than she had anticipated,
and interposed immediately. "You're coming to Vauxhall Walk,
ma'am," thought the captain; "I'll get there before you."

He entered at once into a purely fictitious description of the
various quarters of London in which he had himself resided; and,
adroitly mentioning Vauxhall Walk as one of them, saved Magdalen
from the sudden question relating to that very locality with
which Mrs. Lecount had proposed startling her, to begin with.
From his residences he passed smoothly to himself, and poured his
whole family history (in the character of Mr. Bygrave) into the
housekeeper's ears -- not forgetting his brother's grave in
Honduras, with the monument by the self-taught negro artist, and
his brother's hugely corpulent widow, on the ground-floor of the
boarding-house at Cheltenham. As a means of giving Magdalen time
to compose herself, this outburst of autobiographical information
attained its object, but it answered no other purpose. Mrs.
Lecount listened, without being imposed on by a single word the
captain said to her. He merely confirmed her conviction of the
hopelessness of taking Noel Vanstone into her confidence before
she had facts to help her against Captain Wragge's otherwise
unassailable position in the identity which he had assumed. She
quietly waited until he had done, and then returned to the
charge.

"It is a coincidence that your uncle should have once resided in
Vauxhall Walk," she said, addressing herself to Magdalen. "Mr.
Noel has a house in the same place, and we lived there before we
came to Aldborough. May I inquire, Miss Bygrave, whether you know
anything of a lady named Miss Garth?"

This time she put the question before the captain could
interfere. Magdalen ought to have been prepared for it by what
had already passed in her presence, but her nerves had been
shaken by the earlier events of the day; and she could only
answer the question in the negative, after an instant's
preliminary pause to control herself. Her hesitation was of too
momentary a nature to attract the attention of any unsuspicious
person. But it lasted long enough to confirm Mrs. Lecount's
private convictions, and to encourage her to advance a little
further.

"I only asked," she continued, steadily fixing her eyes on
Magdalen, steadily disregarding the efforts which Captain Wragge
made to join in the conversation, "because Miss Garth is a
stranger to me, and I am curious to find out what I can about
her. The day before we left town, Miss Bygrave, a person who
presented herself under the name I have mentioned paid us a visit
under very extraordinary circumstances."

With a smooth, ingratiating manner, with a refinement of contempt
which was little less than devilish in its ingenious assumption
of the language of pity, she now boldly described Magdalen's
appearance in disguise in Magdalen's own presence. She
slightingly referred to the master and mistress of Combe-Raven as
persons who had always annoyed the elder and more respectable
branch of the family; she mourned over the children as following
their parents' example, and attempting to take a mercenary
advantage of Mr. Noel Vanstone, under the protection of a
respectable person's character and a respectable person's name.
Cleverly including her master in the conversation, so as to
prevent the captain from effecting a diversion in that quarter;
sparing no petty aggravation; striking at every tender place
which the tongue of a spiteful woman can wound, she would, beyond
all doubt, have carried her point, and tortured Magdalen into
openly betraying herself, if Captain Wragge had not checked her
in full career by a loud exclamation of alarm, and a sudden
clutch at Magdalen's wrist.

"Ten thousand pardons, my dear madam!" cried the captain. "I see
in my niece's face, I feel in my niece's pulse, that one of her
violent neuralgic attacks has come on again. My dear girl, why
hesitate among friends to confess that you are in pain? What
mistimed politeness! Her face shows she is suffering -- doesn't
it Mrs. Lecount? Darting pains, Mr. Vanstone, darting pains on
the left side of the head. Pull down your veil, my dear, and lean
on me. Our friends will excuse you; our excellent friends will
excuse you for the rest of the day."

Before Mrs. Lecount could throw an instant's doubt on the
genuineness of the neuralgic attack, her master's fidgety
sympathy declared itself exactly as the captain had anticipated,
in the most active manifestations. He stopped the carriage, and
insisted on an immediate change in the arrangement of the places
-- the comfortable back seat for Miss Bygrave and her uncle, the
front seat for Lecount and himself. Had Lecount got her
smelling-bottle? Excellent creature! let her give it directly to
Miss Bygrave, and let the coachman drive carefully. If the
coachman shook Miss Bygrave he should not have a half-penny for
himself. Mesmerism was frequently useful in these cases. Mr. Noel
Vanstone's father had been the most powerful mesmerist in Europe,
and Mr. Noel Vanstone was his father's son. Might he mesmerize?
Might he order that infernal coachman to draw up in a shady place
adapted for the purpose? Would medical help be preferred? Could
medical help be found any nearer than Aldborough? That ass of a
coachman didn't know. Stop every respectable man who passed in a
gig, and ask him if he was a doctor! So Mr. Noel Vanstone ran on,
with brief intervals for breathing-time, in a
continually-ascending scale of sympathy and self-importance,
throughout the drive home.

Mrs. Lecount accepted her defeat without uttering a word. From
the moment when Captain Wragge interrupted her, her thin lips
closed and opened no more for the remainder of the journey. The
warmest expressions of her master's anxiety for the suffering
young lady provoked from her no outward manifestations of anger.
She took as little notice of him as possible. She paid no
attention whatever to the captain, whose exasperating
consideration for his vanquished enemy made him more polite to
her than ever. The nearer and the nearer they got to Aldborough
the more and more fixedly Mrs. Lecount's hard black eyes looked
at Magdalen reclining on the opposite seat, with her eyes closed
and her veil down.

It was only when the carriage stopped at North Shingles, and when
Captain Wragge was handing Magdalen out, that the housekeeper at
last condescended to notice him. As he smiled and took off his
hat at the carriage door, the strong restraint she had laid on
herself suddenly gave way, and she flashed one look at him which
scorched up the captain's politeness on the spot. He turned at
once, with a hasty acknowledgment of Noel Vanstone's last
sympathetic inquiries, and took Magdalen into the house. "I told
you she would show her claws," he said. "It is not my fault that
she scratched you before I could stop her. She hasn't hurt you,
has she?"

"She has hurt me, to some purpose," said Magdalen -- "she has
given me the courage to go on. Say what must be done to-morrow,
and trust me to do it." She sighed heavily as she said those
words, and went up to her room.

Captain Wragge walked meditatively into the parlor, and sat down
to consider. He felt by no means so certain as he could have
wished of the next proceeding on the part of the enemy after the
defeat of that day. The housekeeper's farewell look had plainly
informed him that she was not at the end of her resources yet,
and the old militia-man felt the full importance of preparing
himself in good time to meet the next step which she took in
advance. He lit a cigar, and bent his wary mind on the dangers of
the future.

While Captain Wragge was considering in the parlor at North
Shingles, Mrs. Lecount was meditating in her bedroom at Sea View.
Her exasperation at the failure of her first attempt to expose
the conspiracy had not blinded her to the instant necessity of
making a  second effort before Noel Vanstone's growing
infatuation g ot beyond her control. The snare set for Magdalen
having failed, the chance of entrapping Magd alen's sister was
the next chance to try. Mrs. Lecount ordered a cup of tea, opened
her writing-case, and began the rough draft of a letter to be
sent to Miss Vanstone, the elder, by the morrow's post.

So the day's skirmish ended. The heat of the battle was yet to
come.

CHAPTER VI.

ALL human penetration has its limits. Accurately as Captain
Wragge had seen his way hitherto, even his sharp insight was now
at fault. He finished his cigar with the mortifying conviction
that he was totally unprepared for Mrs. Lecount's next
proceeding. In this emergency, his experience warned him that
there was one safe course, and one only, which he could take. He
resolved to try the confusing effect on the housekeeper of a
complete change of tactics before she had time to press her
advantage and attack him in the dark. With this view he sent the
servant upstairs to request that Miss Bygrave would come down and
speak to him.

"I hope I don't disturb you," said the captain, when Magdalen
entered the room. "Allow me to apologize for the smell of
tobacco, and to say two words on the subject of our next
proceedings. To put it with my customary frankness, Mrs. Lecount
puzzles me, and I propose to return the compliment by puzzling
her. The course of action which I have to suggest is a very
simple one. I have had the honor of giving you a severe neuralgic
attack already, and I beg your permission (when Mr. Noel Vanstone
sends to inquire to-morrow morning) to take the further liberty
of laying you up altogether. Question from Sea-view Cottage: 'How
is Miss Bygrave this morning?' Answer from North Shingles: 'Much
worse: Miss Bygrave is confined to her room.' Question repeated
every day, say for a fortnight: 'How is Miss Bygrave?' Answer
repeated, if necessary, for the same time: 'No better.' Can you
bear the imprisonment? I see no objection to your getting a
breath of fresh air the first thing in the morning, or the last
thing at night. But for the whole of the day, there is no
disguising it, you must put yourself in the same category with
Mrs. Wragge -- you must keep your room."

"What is your object in wishing me to do this?" inquired
Magdalen.

"My object is twofold," replied the captain. "I blush for my own
stupidity; but the fact is, I can't see my way plainly to Mrs.
Lecount's next move. All I feel sure of is, that she means to
make another attempt at opening her master's eyes to the truth.
Whatever means she may employ to discover your identity, personal
communication with you _must_ be necessary to the accomplishment
of her object. Very good. If I stop that communication, I put an
obstacle in her way at starting -- or, as we say at cards, I
force her hand. Do you see the point?"

Magdalen saw it plainly. The captain went on.

"My second reason for shutting you up," he said, "refers entirely
to Mrs. Lecount's master. The growth of love, my dear girl, is,
in one respect, unlike all other growths -- it flourishes under
adverse circumstances. Our first course of action is to make Mr.
Noel Vanstone feel the charm of your society. Our next is to
drive him distracted by the loss of it. I should have proposed a
few more meetings, with a view to furthering this end, but for
our present critical position toward Mrs. Lecount. As it is, we
must trust to the effect you produced yesterday, and try the
experiment of a sudden separation rather sooner than I could have
otherwise wished. I shall see Mr. Noel Vanstone, though you
don't; and if there _is_ a raw place established anywhere about
the region of that gentleman's heart, trust me to hit him on it!
You are now in full possession of my views. Take your time to
consider, and give me your answer -- Yes or no."

"Any change is for the better," said Magdalen "which keeps me out
of the company of Mrs. Lecount and her master! Let it be as you
wish."

She had hitherto answered faintly and wearily; but she spoke
those last words with a heightened tone and a rising color --
signs which warned Captain Wragge not to press her further.

"Very good," said the captain. "As usual, we understand each
other. I see you are tired; and I won't detain you any longer."

He rose to open the door, stopped half-way to it, and came back
again. "Leave me to arrange matters with the servant downstairs,"
he continued. "You can't absolutely keep your bed, and we must
purchase the girl's discretion when she answers the door, without
taking her into our confidence, of course. I will make her
understand that she is to say you are ill, just as she might say
you are not at home, as a way of keeping unwelcome acquaintances
out of the house. Allow me to open the door for you -- I beg your
pardon, you are going into Mrs. Wragge's work-room instead of
going to your own."

"I know I am," said Magdalen. "I wish to remove Mrs. Wragge from
the miserable room she is in now, and to take her upstairs with
me."

"For the evening?"

"For the whole fortnight."

Captain Wragge followed her into the dining-room, and wisely
closed the door before he spoke again.

"Do you seriously mean to inflict my wife's society on yourself
for a fortnight?" he asked, in great surprise.

"Your wife is the only innocent creature in this guilty house,"
she burst out vehemently. "I must and will have her with me!"

"Pray don't agitate yourself," said the captain. "Take Mrs.
Wragge, by all means. I don't want her." Having resigned the
partner of his existence in those terms, he discreetly returned
to the parlor. "The weakness of the sex!" thought the captain,
tapping his sagacious head. "Lay a strain on the female
intellect, and the female temper gives way directly."

The strain to which the captain alluded was not confined that
evening to the female intellect at North Shingles: it extended to
the female intellect at Sea View. For nearly two hours Mrs.
Lecount sat at her desk writing, correcting, and writing again,
before she could produce a letter to Miss Vanstone, the elder,
which exactly accomplished the object she wanted to attain. At
last the rough draft was completed to her satisfaction; and she
made a fair copy of it forthwith, to be posted the next day.

Her letter thus produced was a masterpiece of ingenuity. After
the first preliminary sentences, the housekeeper plainly informed
Norah of the appearance of the visitor in disguise at Vauxhall
Walk; of the conversation which passed at the interview; and of
her own suspicion that the person claiming to be Miss Garth was,
in all probability, the younger Miss Vanstone herself. Having
told the truth thus far, Mrs. Lecount next proceeded to say that
her master was in possession of evidence which would justify him
in putting the law in force; that he knew the conspiracy with
which he was threatened to be then in process of direction
against him at Aldborough; and that he only hesitated to protect
himself in deference to family considerations, and in the hope
that the elder Miss Vanstone might so influence her sister as to
render it unnecessary to proceed to extremities.

Under these circumstances (the letter continued) it was plainly
necessary that the disguised visitor to Vauxhall Walk should be
properly identified; for if Mrs. Lecount's guess proved to be
wrong, and if the person turned out to be a stranger, Mr. Noel
Vanstone was positively resolved to prosecute in his own defense.
Events at Aldborough, on which it was not necessary to dwell,
would enable Mrs. Lecount in a few days to gain sight of the
suspected person in her own character. But as the housekeeper was
entirely unacquainted with the younger Miss Vanstone, it was
obviously desirable that some better informed person should, in
this particular, take the matter in hand. If the elder Miss
Vanstone happened to be at liberty to come to Aldborough herself,
would she kindly write and say so? and Mrs. Lecount would write
back again to appoint a day. If, on the other hand, Miss Vanstone
was prevented from taking the journey, Mrs. Lecount suggested
that her reply should contain the fullest description of her
sister's personal appearance -- should mention any little
peculiarities which might exist in the way of marks on her face
or her hands -- and should state (in case she had written lately)
what the address was in her last letter, and failing that, what
the post-mark was on the envelope. With this information to help
her, Mrs. Lecount would, in the interest of the misguided young
lady herself, accept the responsibility of privately identifying
her, and would write back immediately to acquaint the elder Miss
Vanstone with the result.

The difficulty of sending this letter to the right address gave
Mrs. Lecount very little trouble. Remembering the name of the
lawyer who had pleaded the cause of the two sisters in Michael
Vanstone's time, she directed her letter to "Miss Vanstone, care
of -- -- Pendril, Esquire, London." This she inclosed in a second
envelope, addressed to Mr. Noel Vanstone's solicitor, with a line
inside, requesting that gentleman to send it at once to the
office of Mr. Pendril.

"Now," thought Mrs. Lecount, as she locked the letter up in her
desk, preparatory to posting it the next day with her own hand,
"now I have got her!"

The next morning the servant from Sea View came, with her
master's compliments, to make inquiries after Miss Bygrave's
health. Captain Wragge's bulletin was duly announced -- Miss
Bygrave was so ill as to be confined to her room.

On the reception of this intelligence, Noel Vanstone's anxiety
led him to call at North Shingles himself when he went out for
his afternoon walk. Miss Bygrave was no better. He inquired if he
could see Mr. Bygrave. The worthy captain was prepared to meet
this emergency. He thought a little irritating suspense would do
Noel Vanstone no harm, and he had carefully charged the servant,
in case of necessity, with her answer: "Mr. Bygrave begged to be
excused; he was not able to see any one."

On the second day inquiries were made as before, by message in
the morning, and by Noel Vanstone himself in the afternoon. The
morning answer (relating to Magdalen) was, "a shade better." The
afternoon answer (relating to Captain Wragge) was, "Mr. Bygrave
has just gone out." That evening Noel Vanstone's temper was very
uncertain, and Mrs. Lecount's patience and tact were sorely tried
in the effort to avoid offending him.

On the third morning the report of the suffering young lady was
less favorable -- "Miss Bygrave was still very poorly, and not
able to leave her bed." The servant returning to Sea View with
this message, met the postman, and took into the breakfast-room
with her two letters addressed to Mrs. Lecount.

The first letter was in a handwriting familiar to the
housekeeper. It was from the medical attendant on her invalid
brother at Zurich; and it announced that the patient's malady had
latterly altered in so marked a manner for the better that there
was every hope now of preserving his life.

The address on the second letter was in a strange handwriting.
Mrs. Lecount, concluding that it was the answer from Miss
Vanstone, waited to read it until breakfast was over, and she
could retire to her own room.

She opened the letter, looked at once for the name at the end,
and started a little as she read it. The signature was not "Norah
Vanstone," but "Harriet Garth."

Miss Garth announced that the elder Miss Vanstone had, a week
since, accepted an engagement as governess, subject to the
condition of joining the family of her employer at their
temporary residence in the south of France, and of returning with
them when they came back to England, probably in a month or six
weeks' time. During the interval of this necessary absence Miss
Vanstone had requested Miss Garth to open all her letters, her
main object in making that arrangement being to provide for the
speedy answering of any communication which might arrive for her
from her sister. Miss Magdalen Vanstone had not written since the
middle of July -- on which occasion the postmark on the letter
showed that it must have been posted in London, in the district
of Lambeth -- and her elder sister had left England in a state of
the most distressing anxiety on her account.

Having completed this explanation, Miss Garth then mentioned that
family circumstances prevented her from traveling personally to
Aldborough to assist Mrs. Lecount's object, but that she was
provided with a substitute; in every way fitter for the purpose,
in the person of Mr. Pendril. That gentleman was well acquainted
with Miss Magdalen Vanstone, and his professional experience and
discretion would render his assistance doubly valuable. He had
kindly consented to travel to Aldborough whenever it might be
thought necessary. But as his time was very valuable, Miss Garth
specially requested that he might not be sent for until Mrs.
Lecount was quite sure of the day on which his services might be
required.

While proposing this arrangement, Miss Garth added that she
thought it right to furnish her correspondent with a written
description of the younger Miss Vanstone as well. An emergency
might happen which would allow Mrs. Lecount no time for securing
Mr. Pendril's services; and the execution of Mr. Noel Vanstone's
intentions toward the unhappy girl who was the object of his
forbearance might be fatally delayed by an unforeseen difficulty
in establishing her identity. The personal description,
transmitted under these circumstances, then followed. It omitted
no personal peculiarity by which Magdalen could be recognized,
and it included the "two little moles close together on the left
side of the neck," which had been formerly mentioned in the
printed handbills sent to York.

In conclusion, Miss Garth expressed her fears that Mrs. Lecount's
suspicions were only too likely to be proved true. While,
however, there was the faintest chance that the conspiracy might
turn out to be directed by a stranger, Miss Garth felt bound, in
gratitude toward Mr. Noel Vanstone, to assist the legal
proceedings which would in that case be instituted. She
accordingly appended her own formal denial -- which she would
personally repeat if necessary -- of any identity between herself
and the person in disguise who had made use of her name. She was
the Miss Garth who had filled the situation of the late Mr.
Andrew Vanstone's governess, and she had never in her life been
in, or near, the neighborhood of Vauxhall Wall.

With this disclaimer, and with the writer's fervent assurances
that she would do all for Magdalen's advantage which her sister
might have done if her sister had been in England, the letter
concluded. It was signed in full, and was dated with the
business-like accuracy in such matters which had always
distinguished Miss Garth's character.

This letter placed a formidable weapon in the housekeeper's
hands.

It provided a means of establishing Magdalen's identity through
the intervention of a lawyer by profession. It contained a
personal description minute enough to be used to advantage, if
necessary, before Mr. Pendril's appearance. It presented a signed
exposure of the false Miss Garth under the hand of the true Miss
Garth; and it established the fact that the last letter received
by the elder Miss Vanstone from the younger had been posted (and
therefore probably written) in the neighborhood of Vauxhall Walk.
If any later letter had been received with the Aldborough
postmark, the chain of evidence, so far as the question of
localities was concerned, might doubtless have been more
complete. But as it was, there was testimony enough (aided as
that testimony might be by the fragment of the brown alpaca dress
still in Mrs. Lecount's possession) to raise the veil which hung
over the conspiracy, and to place Mr. Noel Vanstone face to face
with the plain and startling truth.

The one obstacle which now stood in the way of immediate action
on the housekeeper's part was the obstacle of Miss Bygrave's
present seclusion within the limits of her own room. The question
of gaining personal access to her was a question which must be
decided before any communication could be opened with Mr.
Pendril. Mrs. Lecount put on her bonnet at once, and called at
North Shingles to try what discoveries she could make for herself
before post-time

On this occasion Mr. Bygrave was at home, and she was admitted
without  the least difficulty.

Careful consideration that morning had dec ided Captain Wragge on
advancing matters a little nearer to the crisis. The means by
which he proposed achieving this result made it necessary for him
to see the housekeeper and her master separately, and to set them
at variance by producing two totally opposite impressions
relating to himself on their minds. Mrs. Lecount's visit,
therefore, instead of causing him any embarrassment, was the most
welcome occurrence he could have wished for. He received her in
the parlor with a marked restraint of manner for which she was
quite unprepared. His ingratiating smile was gone, and an
impenetrable solemnity of countenance appeared in its stead.

"I have ventured to intrude on you, sir," said Mrs. Lecount, "to
express the regret with which both my master and I have heard of
Miss Bygrave's illness. Is there no improvement?"

"No, ma'am," replied the captain, as briefly as possible. "My
niece is no better."

"I have had some experience, Mr. Bygrave, in nursing. If I could
be of any use -- "

"Thank you, Mrs. Lecount. There is no necessity for our taking
advantage of your kindness."

This plain answer was followed by a moment's silence. The
housekeeper felt some little perplexity. What had become of Mr.
Bygrave's elaborate courtesy, and Mr. Bygrave's many words? Did
he want to offend her? If he did, Mrs. Lecount then and there
determined that he should not gain his object.

"May I inquire the nature of the illness?" she persisted. "It is
not connected, I hope, with our excursion to Dunwich?"

"I regret to say, ma'am," replied the captain, "it began with
that neuralgic attack in the carriage."

"So! so!" thought Mrs. Lecount. "He doesn't even _try_ to make me
think the illness a real one; he throws off the mask at starting.
-- Is it a nervous illness, sir?" she added, aloud.

The captain answered by a solemn affirmative inclination of the
head.

"Then you have _two_ nervous sufferers in the house, Mr.
Bygrave?"

"Yes, ma'am -- two. My wife and my niece."

"That is rather a strange coincidence of misfortunes."

"It is, ma'am. Very strange."

In spite of Mrs. Lecount's resolution not to be offended, Captain
Wragge's exasperating insensibility to every stroke she aimed at
him began to ruffle her. She was conscious of some little
difficulty in securing her self-possession before she could say
anything more.

"Is there no immediate hope," she resumed, "of Miss Bygrave being
able to leave her room?"

"None whatever, ma'am."

"You are satisfied, I suppose, with the medical attendance?"

"I have no medical attendance," said the captain, composedly. "I
watch the case myself."

The gathering venom in Mrs. Lecount swelled up at that reply, and
overflowed at her lips.

"Your smattering of science, sir," she said, with a malicious
smile, "includes, I presume, a smattering of medicine as well?"

"It does, ma'am," answered the captain, without the slightest
disturbance of face or manner. "I know as much of one as I do of
the other."

The tone in which he spoke those words left Mrs. Lecount but one
dignified alternative. She rose to terminate the interview. The
temptation of the moment proved too much for her, and she could
not resist casting the shadow of a threat over Captain Wragge at
parting.

"I defer thanking you, sir, for the manner in which you have
received me," she said, "until I can pay my debt of obligation to
some purpose. In the meantime I am glad to infer, from the
absence of a medical attendant in the house, that Miss Bygrave's
illness is much less serious than I had supposed it to be when I
came here."

"I never contradict a lady, ma'am," rejoined the incorrigible
captain. "If it is your pleasure, when we next meet to think my
niece quite well, I shall bow resignedly to the expression of
your opinion." With those words, he followed the housekeeper into
the passage, and politely opened the door for her. "I mark the
trick, ma'am!" he said to himself, as he closed it again. "The
trump-card in your hand is a sight of my niece, and I'll take
care you don't play it!"

He returned to the parlor, and composedly awaited the next event
which was likely to happen -- a visit from Mrs. Lecount's master.
In less than an hour results justified Captain Wragge's
anticipations, and Noel Vanstone walked in.

"My dear sir!" cried the captain, cordially seizing his visitor's
reluctant hand, "I know what you have come for. Mrs. Lecount has
told you of her visit here, and has no doubt declared that my
niece's illness is a mere subterfuge. You feel surprised -- you
feel hurt -- you suspect me of trifling with your kind sympathies
-- in short, you require an explanation. That explanation you
shall have. Take a seat. Mr. Vanstone. I am about to throw myself
on your sense and judgment as a man of the world. I acknowledge
that we are in a false position, sir; and I tell you plainly at
the outset -- your housekeeper is the cause of it."

For once in his life, Noel Vanstone opened his eyes. "Lecount!"
he exclaimed, in the utmost bewilderment.

"The same, sir," replied Captain Wragge. "I am afraid I offended
Mrs. Lecount, when she came here this morning, by a want of
cordiality in my manner. I am a plain man, and I can't assume
what I don't feel. Far be it from me to breathe a word against
your housekeeper's character. She is, no doubt, a most excellent
and trustworthy woman, but she has one serious failing common to
persons at her time of life who occupy her situation -- she is
jealous of her influence over her master, although you may not
have observed it."

"I beg your pardon," interposed Noel Vanstone; "my observation is
remarkably quick. Nothing escapes me."

"In that case, sir," resumed the captain, "you cannot fail to
have noticed that Mrs. Lecount has allowed her jealousy to affect
her conduct toward my niece?"

Noel Vanstone thought of the domestic passage at arms between
Mrs. Lecount and himself when his guests of the evening had left
Sea View, and failed to see his way to any direct reply. He
expressed the utmost surprise and distress -- he thought Lecount
had done her best to be agreeable on the drive to Dunwich -- he
hoped and trusted there was some unfortunate mistake.

"Do you mean to say, sir," pursued the captain, severely, "that
you have not noticed the circumstance yourself? As a man of honor
and a man of observation, you can't tell me that! Your
housekeeper's superficial civility has not hidden your
housekeeper's real feeling. My niece has seen it, and so have
you, and so have I. My niece, Mr. Vanstone, is a sensitive,
high-spirited girl; and she has positively declined to cultivate
Mrs. Lecount's society for the future. Don't misunderstand me! To
my niece as well as to myself, the attraction of _your_ society,
Mr. Vanstone, remains the same. Miss Bygrave simply declines to
be an apple of discord (if you will permit the classical
allusion) cast into your household. I think she is right so far,
and I frankly confess that I have exaggerated a nervous
indisposition, from which she is really suffering, into a serious
illness -- purely and entirely to prevent these two ladies for
the present from meeting every day on the Parade, and from
carrying unpleasant impressions of each other into your domestic
establishment and mine."

"I allow nothing unpleasant in _my_ establishment," remarked Noel
Vanstone. "I'm master -- you must have noticed that already, Mr.
Bygrave -- I'm master."

"No doubt of it, my dear sir. But to live morning, noon, and
night in the perpetual exercise of your authority is more like
the life of a governor of a prison than the life of a master of a
household. The wear and tear -- consider the wear and tear."

"It strikes you in that light, does it?" said Noel Vanstone,
soothed by Captain Wragge's ready recognition of his authority.
"I don't know that you're not right. But I must take some steps
directly. I won't be made ridiculous -- I'll send Lecount away
altogether, sooner than be made ridiculous." His color rose, and
he folded his little arms fiercely. Captain Wragge's
artfullyirritating explanation had awakened that dormant
suspicion of his housekee per's influence over him which
habitually lay hidden in his mind, and which Mrs. Lecount was n
ow not present to charm back to repose as usual. "What must Miss
Bygrave think of me!" he exclaimed, with a sudden outburst of
vexation. "I'll send Lecount away. Damme, I'll send Lecount away
on the spot!"

"No, no, no!" said the captain, whose interest it was to avoid
driving Mrs. Lecount to any desperate extremities. "Why take
strong measures when mild measures will do? Mrs. Lecount is an
old servant; Mrs. Lecount is attached and useful. She has this
little drawback of jealousy -- jealousy of her domestic position
with her bachelor master. She sees you paying courteous attention
to a handsome young lady; she sees that young lady properly
sensible of your politeness; and, poor soul, she loses her
temper! What is the obvious remedy? Humor her -- make a manly
concession to the weaker sex. If Mrs. Lecount is with you, the
next time we meet on the Parade, walk the other way. If Mrs.
Lecount is not with you, give us the pleasure of your company by
all means. In short, my dear sir, try the _suaviter in modo_ (as
we classical men say) before you commit yourself to the _fortiter
in re!"_

There was one excellent reason why Noel Vanstone should take
Captain Wragge's conciliatory advice. An open rupture with Mrs.
Lecount -- even if he could have summoned the courage to face it
-- would imply the recognition of her claims to a provision, in
acknowledgment of the services she had rendered to his father and
to himself. His sordid nature quailed within him at the bare
prospect of expressing the emotion of gratitude in a pecuniary
form; and, after first consulting appearances by a show of
hesitation, he consented to adopt the captain's suggestion, and
to humor Mrs. Lecount.

"But I must be considered in this matter," proceeded Noel
Vanstone. "My concession to Lecount's weakness must not be
misunderstood. Miss Bygrave must not be allowed to suppose I am
afraid of my housekeeper."

The captain declared that no such idea ever had entered, or ever
could enter, Miss Bygrave's mind. Noel Vanstone returned to the
subject nevertheless, again and again, with his customary
pertinacity. Would it be indiscreet if he asked leave to set
himself right personally with Miss Bygrave? Was there any hope
that he might have the happiness of seeing her on that day? or,
if not, on the next day? or if not, on the day after? Captain
Wragge answered cautiously: he felt the importance of not rousing
Noel Vanstone's distrust by too great an alacrity in complying
with his wishes.

"An interview to-day, my dear sir, is out of the question," he
said. "She is not well enough; she wants repose. To-morrow I
propose taking her out before the heat of the day begins -- not
merely to avoid embarrassment, after what has happened with Mrs.
Lecount, but because the morning air and the morning quiet are
essential in these nervous cases. We are early people here -- we
shall start at seven o'clock. If you are early, too, and if you
would like to join us, I need hardly say that we can feel no
objection to your company on our morning walk. The hour, I am
aware, is an unusual one -- but later in the day my niece may be
resting on the sofa, and may not be able to see visitors."

Having made this proposal purely for the purpose of enabling Noel
Vanstone to escape to North Shingles at an hour in the morning
when his housekeeper would be probably in bed, Captain Wragge
left him to take the hint, if he could, as indirectly as it had
been given. He proved sharp enough (the case being one in which
his own interests were concerned) to close with the proposal on
the spot. Politely declaring that he was always an early man when
the morning presented any special attraction to him, he accepted
the appointment for seven o'clock, and rose soon afterward to
take his leave.

"One word at parting," said Captain Wragge. "This conversation is
entirely between ourselves. Mrs. Lecount must know nothing of the
impression she has produced on my niece. I have only mentioned it
to you to account for my apparently churlish conduct and to
satisfy your own mind. In confidence, Mr. Vanstone -- strictly in
confidence. Good-morning!"

With these parting words, the captain bowed his visitor out.
Unless some unexpected disaster occurred, he now saw his way
safely to the end of the enterprise. He had gained two important
steps in advance that morning. He had sown the seeds of variance
between the housekeeper and her master, and he had given Noel
Vanstone a common interest with Magdalen and himself, in keeping
a secret from Mrs. Lecount. "We have caught our man," thought
Captain Wragge, cheerfully rubbing his hands -- "we have caught
our man at last!"

On leaving North Shingles Noel Vanstone walked straight home,
fully restored to his place in his own estimation, and sternly
determined to carry matters with a high hand if he found himself
in collision with Mrs. Lecount.

The housekeeper received her master at the door with her mildest
manner and her gentlest smile. She addressed him with downcast
eyes; she opposed to his contemplated assertion of independence a
barrier of impenetrable respect.

"May I venture to ask, sir," she began, "if your visit to North
Shingles has led you to form the same conclusion as mine on the
subject of Miss Bygrave's illness?"

"Certainly not, Lecount. I consider your conclusion to have been
both hasty and prejudiced."

"I am sorry to hear it, sir. I felt hurt by Mr. Bygrave's rude
reception of me, but I was not aware that my judgment was
prejudiced by it. Perhaps he received _you_, sir, with a warmer
welcome?"

"He received me like a gentleman -- that is all I think it
necessary to say, Lecount -- he received me like a gentleman."

This answer satisfied Mrs. Lecount on the one doubtful point that
had perplexed her. Whatever Mr. Bygrave's sudden coolness toward
herself might mean, his polite reception of her master implied
that the risk of detection had not daunted him, and that the plot
was still in full progress. The housekeeper's eyes brightened;
she had expressly calculated on this result. After a moment's
thinking, she addressed her master with another question: "You
will probably visit Mr. Bygrave again, sir?"

"Of course I shall visit him -- if I please."

"And perhaps see Miss Bygrave, if she gets better?"

"Why not? I should be glad to know why not? Is it necessary to
ask your leave first, Lecount?"

"By no means, sir. As you have often said (and as I have often
agreed with you), you are master. It may surprise you to hear it,
Mr. Noel, but I have a private reason for wishing that you should
see Miss Bygrave again."

Mr. Noel started a little, and looked at his housekeeper with
some curiosity.

"I have a strange fancy of my own, sir, about that young lady,"
proceeded Mrs. Lecount. "If you will excuse my fancy, and indulge
it, you will do me a favor for which I shall be very grateful."

"A fancy?" repeated her master, in growing surprise. "What
fancy?"

"Only this, sir," said Mrs. Lecount.

She took from one of the neat little pockets of her apron a
morsel of note-paper, carefully folded into the smallest possible
compass, and respectfully placed it in Noel Vanstone's hands.

"If you are willing to oblige an old and faithful servant, Mr.
Noel," she said, in a very quiet and very impressive manner, "you
will kindly put that morsel of paper into your waistcoat pocket;
you will open and read it, for the first time, _when you are next
in Miss Bygrave's company_, and you will say nothing of what has
now passed between us to any living creature, from this time to
that. I promise to explain my strange request, sir, when you have
done what I ask, and when your next interview with Miss Bygrave
has come to an end."

She courtesied with her best grace, and quietly left the room.

Noel Vanstone looked from the folded paper to the door, and from
the door back to the folded paper, in unutterable astonishment. A
mystery in his own house! under his own nose! What did it mean?"

It meant that Mrs. Lecount had not wasted her time that morning.
While the captain was casting the net over his visitor at North
Shingles, the  housekeeper was steadily  mining the ground under
his feet. The folded paper contained nothin g less than a
carefully written extract from the personal description of
Magdalen in Miss Garth's letter. With a daring ingenuity which
even Captain Wragge might have envied, Mrs. Lecount had found her
instrument for exposing the conspiracy in the unsuspecting person
of the victim himself!

CHAPTER VII.

LATE that evening, when Magdalen and Mrs. Wragge came back from
their walk in the dark, the captain stopped Magdalen on her way
upstairs to inform her of the proceedings of the day. He added
the expression of his opinion that the time had come for bringing
Noel Vanstone, with the least possible delay, to the point of
making a proposal. She merely answered that she understood him,
and that she would do what was required of her. Captain Wragge
requested her in that case to oblige him by joining a walking
excursion in Mr. Noel Vanstone's company at seven o'clock the
next morning. "I will be ready," she replied. "Is there anything
more?" There was nothing more. Magdalen bade him good-night and
returned to her own room.

She had shown the same disinclination to remain any longer than
was necessary in the captain's company throughout the three days
of her seclusion in the house.

During all that time, instead of appearing to weary of Mrs.
Wragge's society, she had patiently, almost eagerly, associated
herself with her companion's one absorbing pursuit. She who had
often chafed and fretted in past days under the monotony of her
life in the freedom of Combe-Raven, now accepted without a murmur
the monotony of her life at Mrs. Wragge's work-table. She who had
hated the sight of her needle and thread in old times -- who had
never yet worn an article of dress of her own making -- now
toiled as anxiously over the making of Mrs. Wragge's gown, and
bore as patiently with Mrs. Wragge's blunders, as if the sole
object of her existence had been the successful completion of
that one dress. Anything was welcome to her -- the trivial
difficulties of fitting a gown: the small, ceaseless chatter of
the poor half-witted creature who was so proud of her assistance,
and so happy in her company -- anything was welcome that shut her
out from the coming future, from the destiny to which she stood
self-condemned. That sorely-wounded nature was soothed by such a
trifle now as the grasp of her companion's rough and friendly
hand -- that desolate heart was cheered, when night parted them,
by Mrs. Wragge's kiss.

The captain's isolated position in the house produced no
depressing effect on the captain's easy and equal spirits.
Instead of resenting Magdalen's systematic avoidance of his
society, be looked to results, and highly approved of it. The
more she neglected him for his wife the more directly useful she
became in the character of Mrs. Wragge's self-appointed guardian.
He had more than once seriously contemplated revoking the
concession which had been extorted from him, and removing his
wife, at his own sole responsibility, out of harm's way; and he
had only abandoned the idea on discovering that Magdalen's
resolution to keep Mrs. Wragge in her own company was really
serious. While the two were together, his main anxiety was set at
rest. They kept their door locked by his own desire while he was
out of the house, and, whatever Mrs. Wragge might do, Magdalen
was to be trusted not to open it until he came back. That night
Captain Wragge enjoyed his cigar with a mind at ease, and sipped
his brandy-and-water in happy ignorance of the pitfall which Mrs.
Lecount had prepared for him in the morning.

Punctually at seven o'clock Noel Vanstone made his appearance.
The moment he entered the room Captain Wragge detected a change
in his visitor's look and manner. "Something wrong!" thought the
captain. "We have not done with Mrs. Lecount yet."

"How is Miss Bygrave this morning?" asked Noel Vanstone. "Well
enough, I hope, for our early walk?" His half-closed eyes, weak
and watery with the morning light and the morning air, looked
about the room furtively, and he shifted his place in a restless
manner from one chair to another, as he made those polite
inquiries.

"My niece is better -- she is dressing for the walk," replied the
captain, steadily observing his restless little friend while he
spoke. "Mr. Vanstone!" he added, on a sudden, "I am a plain
Englishman -- excuse my blunt way of speaking my mind. You don't
meet me this morning as cordially as you met me yesterday. There
is something unsettled in your face. I distrust that housekeeper
of yours, sir! Has she been presuming on your forbearance? Has
she been trying to poison your mind against me or my niece?"

If Noel Vanstone had obeyed Mrs. Lecount's injunctions, and had
kept her little morsel of note-paper folded in his pocket until
the time came to use it, Captain Wragge's designedly blunt appeal
might not have found him unprepared with an answer. But curiosity
had got the better of him; he had opened the note at night, and
again in the morning; it had seriously perplexed and startled
him; and it had left his mind far too disturbed to allow him the
possession of his ordinary resources. He hesitated; and his
answer, when he succeeded in making it, began with a
prevarication.

Captain Wragge stopped him before he had got beyond his first
sentence.

"Pardon me, sir," said the captain, in his loftiest manner. "If
you have secrets to keep, you have only to say so, and I have
done. I intrude on no man's secrets. At the same time, Mr.
Vanstone, you must allow me to recall to your memory that I met
you yesterday without any reserves on my side. I admitted you to
my frankest and fullest confidence, sir -- and, highly as I prize
the advantages of your society, I can't consent to cultivate your
friendship on any other than equal terms. "He threw open his
respectable frock-coat and surveyed his visitor with a manly and
virtuous severity.

"I mean no offense!" cried Noel Vanstone, piteously. "Why do you
interrupt me, Mr. Bygrave? Why don't you let me explain? I mean
no offense."

"No offense is taken, sir," said the captain. "You have a perfect
right to the exercise of your own discretion. I am not offended
-- I only claim for myself the same privilege which I accord to
you." He rose with great dignity and rang the bell. "Tell Miss
Bygrave," he said to the servant, "that our walk this morning is
put off until another opportunity, and that I won't trouble her
to come downstairs."

This strong proceeding had the desired effect. Noel Vanstone
vehemently pleaded for a moment's private conversation before the
message was delivered. Captain Wragge's severity partially
relaxed. He sent the servant downstairs again, and, resuming his
chair, waited confidently for results. In calculating the
facilities for practicing on his visitor's weakness, he had one
great superiority over Mrs. Lecount. His judgment was not warped
by latent female jealousies, and he avoided the error into which
the housekeeper had fallen, self-deluded -- the error of
underrating the impression on Noel Vanstone that Magdalen had
produced. One of the forces in this world which no middle-aged
woman is capable of estimating at its full value, when it acts
against her, is the force of beauty in a woman younger than
herself.

"You are so hasty, Mr. Bygrave -- you won't give me time -- you
won't wait and hear what I have to say!" cried Noel Vanstone,
piteously, when the servant had closed the parlor door.

"My family failing, sir -- the blood of the Bygraves. Accept my
excuses. We are alone, as you wished; pray proceed."

Placed between the alternatives of losing Magdalen's society or
betraying Mrs. Lecount, unenlightened by any suspicion of the
housekeeper's ultimate object, cowed by the immovable scrutiny of
Captain Wragge's inquiring eye, Noel Vanstone was not long in
making his choice. He confusedly described his singular interview
of the previous evening with Mrs. Lecount, and, taking the folded
paper from his pocket, placed it in the captain's hand.

A suspicion of the truth dawned on Captain Wragge's mind the
moment  he saw the mysterious note. He withdrew to the window
before he opened it. The first  lines that attracted his attention
were these: "Oblige me, Mr. Noel,
by comparing the young lady who is now in your company with the
personal description which follows these lines, and which has
been communicated to me by a friend. You shall know the name of
the person described -- which I have left a blank -- as soon as
the evidence of your own eyes has forced you to believe what you
would refuse to credit on the unsupported testimony of Virginie
Lecount."

That was enough for the captain. Before he had read a word of the
description itself, he knew what Mrs. Lecount had done, and felt,
with a profound sense of humiliation, that his female enemy had
taken him by surprise.

There was no time to think; the whole enterprise was threatened
with irrevocable overthrow. The one resource in Captain Wragge's
present situation was to act instantly on the first impulse of
his own audacity. Line by line he read on, and still the ready
inventiveness which had never deserted him yet failed to answer
the call made on it now. He came to the closing sentence -- to
the last words which mentioned the two little moles on Magdalen's
neck. At that crowning point of the description, an idea crossed
his mind; his party-colored eyes twinkled; his curly lips twisted
up at the corners; Wragge was himself again. He wheeled round
suddenly from the window, and looked Noel Vanstone straight in
the face with a grimly-quiet suggestiveness of something serious
to come.

"Pray, sir, do you happen to know anything of Mrs. Lecount's
family?" he inquired.

"A respectable family," said Noel Vanstone -- "that's all I know.
Why do you ask?"

"I am not usually a betting man," pursued Captain Wragge. "But on
this occasion I will lay you any wager you like there is madness
in your housekeeper's family."

"Madness!" repeated Noel Vanstone, amazedly

"Madness!" reiterated the captain, sternly tapping the note with
his forefinger. "I see the cunning of insanity, the suspicion of
insanity, the feline treachery of insanity in every line of this
deplorable document. There is a far more alarming reason, sir,
than I had supposed for Mrs. Lecount's behavior to my niece. It
is clear to me that Miss Bygrave resembles some other lady who
has seriously offended your housekeeper -- who has been formerly
connected, perhaps, with an outbreak of insanity in your
housekeeper -- and who is now evidently confused with my niece in
your housekeeper's wandering mind. That is my conviction, Mr.
Vanstone. I may be right, or I may be wrong. All I say is this --
neither you, nor any man, can assign a sane motive for the
production of that incomprehensible document, and for the use
which you are requested to make of it."

"I don't think Lecount's mad," said Noel Vanstone, with a very
blank look, and a very discomposed manner. "It couldn't have
escaped me, with my habits of observation; it couldn't possibly
have escaped me if Lecount had been mad."

"Very good, my dear sir. In my opinion, she is the subject of an
insane delusion. In your opinion, she is in possession of her
senses, and has some mysterious motive which neither you nor I
can fathom. Either way, there can be no harm in putting Mrs.
Lecount's description to the test, not only as a matter of
curiosity, but for our own private satisfaction on both sides. It
is of course impossible to tell my niece that she is to be made
the subject of such a preposterous experiment as that note of
yours suggests. But you can use your own eyes, Mr. Vanstone; you
can keep your own counsel; and -- mad or not -- you can at least
tell your housekeeper, on the testimony of your own senses, that
she is wrong. Let me look at the description again. The greater
part of it is not worth two straws for any purpose of
identification; hundreds of young ladies have tall figures, fair
complexions, light brown hair, and light gray eyes. You will say,
on the other hand, hundreds of young ladies have not got two
little moles close together on the left side of the neck. Quite
true. The moles supply us with what we scientific men call a
Crucial Test. When my niece comes downstairs, sir, you have my
full permission to take the liberty of looking at her neck."

Noel Vanstone expressed his high approval of the Crucial Test by
smirking and simpering for the first time that morning.

"Of looking at her neck," repeated the captain, returning the
note to his visitor, and then making for the door. "I will go
upstairs myself, Mr. Vanstone," he continued, "and inspect Miss
Bygrave's walking-dress. If she has innocently placed any
obstacles in your way, if her hair is a little too low, or her
frill is a little too high, I will exert my authority, on the
first harmless pretext I can think of, to have those obstacles
removed. All I ask is, that you will choose your opportunity
discreetly, and that you will not allow my niece to suppose that
her neck is the object of a gentleman's inspection."

The moment he was out of the parlor Captain Wragge ascended the
stairs at the top of his speed and knocked at Magdalen's door.
She opened it to him in her walking-dress, obedient to the signal
agreed on between them which summoned her downstairs.

"What have you done with your paints and powders?" asked the
captain, without wasting a word in preliminary explanations.
"They were not in the box of costumes which I sold for you at
Birmingham. Where are they?"

"I have got them here," replied Magdalen. "What can you possibly
mean by wanting them now?"

"Bring them instantly into my dressing-room -- the whole
collection, brushes, palette, and everything. Don't waste time in
asking questions; I'll tell you what has happened as we go on.
Every moment is precious to us. Follow me instantly!"

His face plainly showed that there was a serious reason for his
strange proposal. Magdalen secured her collection of cosmetics
and followed him into the dressing-room. He locked the door,
placed her on a chair close to the light, and then told her what
had happened.

"We are on the brink of detection," proceeded the captain,
carefully mixing his colors with liquid glue, and with a strong
"drier" added from a bottle in his own possession. "There is only
one chance for us (lift up your hair from the left side of your
neck) -- I have told Mr. Noel Vanstone to take a private
opportunity of looking at you; and I am going to give the lie
direct to that she-devil Lecount by painting out your moles."

"They can't be painted out," said Magdalen. "No color will stop
on them."

"_My_ color will," remarked Captain Wragge. "I have tried a
variety of professions in my time -- the profession of painting
among the rest. Did you ever hear of such a thing as a Black Eye?
I lived some months once in the neighborhood of Drury Lane
entirely on Black Eyes. My flesh-color stood on bruises of all
sorts, shades, and sizes, and it will stand, I promise you, on
your moles."

With this assurance, the captain dipped his brush into a little
lump of opaque color which he had mixed in a saucer, and which he
had graduated as nearly as the materials would permit to the
color of Magdalen's skin. After first passing a cambric
handkerchief, with some white powder on it, over the part of her
neck on which he designed to operate, he placed two layers of
color on the moles with the tip of the brush. The process was
performed in a few moments, and the moles, as if by magic,
disappeared from view. Nothing but the closest inspection could
have discovered the artifice by which they had been concealed; at
the distance of two or three feet only, it was perfectly
invisible.

"Wait here five minutes, "said Captain Wragge," to let the paint
dry -- and then join us in the parlor. Mrs. Lecount herself would
be puzzled if she looked at you now."

"Stop!" said Magdalen. "There is one thing you have not told me
yet. How did Mrs. Lecount get the description which you read
downstairs? Whatever else she has seen of me, she has not seen
the mark on my neck -- it is too far back, and too high up; my
hair hides it."

"Who knows of the mark?" asked Captain Wragge.

She turned deadly pale under the anguish of a sudden recollection
of Frank.

"My sister knows it," s he said, faintly.

"Mrs. Lecount may have written to your sister," suggested the
captain:

"Do you think my sister would tell a stranger what no stranger
has a right to know? Never! never!"

"Is there nobody else who could tell Mrs. Lecount? The mark was
mentioned in the handbills at York. Who put it there?"

"Not Norah! Perhaps Mr. Pendril. Perhaps Miss Garth."

"Then Mrs. Lecount has written to Mr. Pendril or Miss Garth --
more likely to Miss Garth. The governess would be easier to deal
with than the lawyer."

"What can she have said to Miss Garth?"

Captain Wragge considered a little.

"I can't say what Mrs. Lecount may have written," he said, "but I
can tell you what I should have written in Mrs. Lecount's place.
I should have frightened Miss Garth by false reports about you,
to begin with, and then I should have asked for personal
particulars, to help a benevolent stranger in restoring you to
your friends. "The angry glitter flashed up instantly in
Magdalen's eyes.

"What _you_ would have done is what Mrs. Lecount has done," she
said, indignantly. "Neither lawyer nor governess shall dispute my
right to my own will and my own way. If Miss Garth thinks she can
control my actions by corresponding with Mrs. Lecount, I will
show Miss Garth she is mistaken! It is high time, Captain Wragge,
to have done with these wretched risks of discovery. We will take
the short way to the end we have in view sooner than Mrs. Lecount
or Miss Garth think for. How long can you give me to wring an
offer of marriage out of that creature downstairs?"

"I dare not give you long," replied Captain Wragge. "Now your
friends know where you are, they may come down on us at a day's
notice. Could you manage it in a week?"

"I'll manage it in half the time," she said, with a hard, defiant
laugh. "Leave us together this morning as you left us at Dunwich,
and take Mrs. Wragge with you, as an excuse for parting company.
Is the paint dry yet? Go downstairs and tell him I am coming
directly."

So, for the second time, Miss Garth's well-meant efforts defeated
their own end. So the fatal force of circumstance turned the hand
that would fain have held Magdalen back into the hand that drove
her on.

The captain returned to his visitor in the parlor, after first
stopping on his way to issue his orders for the walking excursion
to Mrs. Wragge.

"I am shocked to have kept you waiting," he said, sitting down
again confidentially by Noel Vanstone's side. "My only excuse is,
that my niece had accidentally dressed her hair so as to defeat
our object. I have been persuading her to alter it, and young
ladies are apt to be a little obstinate on questions relating to
their toilet. Give her a chair on that side of you when she comes
in, and take your look at her neck comfortably before we start
for our walk."

Magdalen entered the room as he said those words, and after the
first greetings were exchanged, took the chair presented to her
with the most unsuspicious readiness. Noel Vanstone applied the
Crucial Test on the spot, with the highest appreciation of the
fair material which was the subject of experiment. Not the
vestige of a mole was visible on any part of the smooth white
surface of Miss Bygrave's neck. It mutely answered the blinking
inquiry of Noel Vanstone's half-closed eyes by the flattest
practical contradiction of Mrs. Lecount. That one central
incident in the events of the morning was of all the incidents
that had hitherto occurred, the most important in its results.
That one discovery shook the housekeeper's hold on her master as
nothing had shaken it yet.

In a few minutes Mrs. Wragge made her appearance, and excited as
much surprise in Noel Vanstone's mind as he was capable of
feeling while absorbed in the enjoyment of Magdalen's society.
The walking-party left the house at once, directing their steps
northward, so as not to pass the windows of Sea-view Cottage. To
Mrs. Wragge's unutterable astonishment, her husband, for the
first time in the course of their married life, politely offered
her his arm, and led her on in advance of the young people, as if
the privilege of walking alone with her presented some special
attraction to him! "Step out!" whispered the captain, fiercely.
"Leave your niece and Mr. Vanstone alone! If I catch you looking
back at them, I'll put the Oriental Cashmere Robe on the top of
the kitchen fire! Turn your toes out, and keep step -- confound
you, keep step!" Mrs. Wragge kept step to the best of her limited
ability. Her sturdy knees trembled under her. She firmly believed
the captain was intoxicated.

The walk lasted for rather more than an hour. Before nine o'clock
they were all back again at North Shingles. The ladies went at
once into the house. Noel Vanstone remained with Captain Wragge
in the garden. "Well," said the captain, "what do you think now
of Mrs. Lecount?"

"Damn Lecount!" replied Noel Vanstone, in great agitation. "I'm
half inclined to agree with you. I'm half inclined to think my
infernal housekeeper is mad."

He spoke fretfully and unwillingly, as if the merest allusion to
Mrs. Lecount was distasteful to him. His color came and went; his
manner was absent and undecided; he fidgeted restlessly about the
garden walk. It would have been plain to a far less acute
observation than Captain Wragge's, that Magdalen had met his
advances by an unexpected grace and readiness of encouragement
which had entirely overthrown his self-control.

"I never enjoyed a walk so much in my life!" he exclaimed, with a
sudden outburst of enthusiasm. "I hope Miss Bygrave