The House in the Mist | Page 9

laughed as I imagined
sneaking Hector, malicious Luke or brutal John responding to this
naïve appeal, and then found myself wondering why no echo of my
mirth came from the men themselves. They must have seen much more
plainly than I did the ludicrousness of their weak old kinsman's demand;
yet Luke was still; Hector was still; and even John, and the three or
four others I have mentioned gave forth no audible token of disdain or
surprise. I was asking myself what sentiment of awe or fear restrained
these selfish souls, when I became conscious of a movement within,
which presently resolved itself into a departing foot-step.
Some conscience there had been awakened. Some one was crossing the
floor toward the door. Who? I waited in anxious expectancy for the
word which was to enlighten me. Happily it came soon, and from the
old lawyer's lips.
"You do not feel yourself worthy?" he queried, in tones I had not heard
from him before. "Why? What have you done that you should forego
an inheritance to which these others feel themselves honestly entitled?"
The voice which answered gave both my mind and heart a shock. It
was she who had risen at this call. She, the only true-faced person
there!
Anxiously I listened for her reply. Alas! it was one of action rather than
speech. As I afterward heard, she simply opened her long cloak and
showed a little infant slumbering in her arms.
"This is my reason," said she. "I have sinned in the eyes of the world,

therefore I can not take my share of Uncle Anthony's money. I did not
know he exacted an unblemished record from those he expected to
enrich, or I would not have come."
The sob which followed these last words showed at what a cost she
thus renounced a fortune of which she, of all present, perhaps, stood in
the greatest need; but there was no lingering in her step; and to me,
who understood her fault only through the faint sound of infantile
wailing which accompanied her departure, there was a nobility in her
action which raised her in an instant to an almost ideal height of
unselfish virtue.
Perhaps they felt this, too. Perhaps even these hardened men and the
more than hardened woman whose presence was in itself a blight,
recognized heroism when they saw it; for when the lawyer, with a
certain obvious reluctance, laid his hand on the bolts of the door with
the remark: "This is not my work, you know; I am but following out
instructions very minutely given me," the smothered growls and grunts
which rose in reply lacked the venom which had been infused into all
their previous comments.
"I think our friends out there are far enough withdrawn, by this time,
for us to hazard the opening of the door," the lawyer now remarked.
"Madam, I hope you will speedily find your way to some comfortable
shelter."
Then the door opened, and after a moment, closed again in a silence
which at least was respectful. Yet I warrant there was not a soul
remaining who had not already figured in his mind to what extent his
own fortune had been increased by the failure of one of their number to
inherit.
As for me, my whole interest in the affair was at an end, and I was only
anxious to find my way to where this desolate woman faced the mist
with her unfed baby in her arms.

III
A LIFE DRAMA
But to reach this wanderer, it was first necessary for me to escape from
the house. This proved simple enough. The up-stairs room toward
which I rushed had a window overlooking one of the many lean-tos
already mentioned. This window was fastened, but I had no difficulty
in unlocking it or in finding my way to the ground from the top of the
lean-to. But once again on terra-firma, I discovered that the mist was
now so thick that it had all the effect of a fog at sea. It was icy cold as
well, and clung about me so that I presently began to shudder most
violently, and, strong man though I was, wish myself back in the little
attic bedroom from which I had climbed in search of one in more
unhappy case than myself.
But these feelings did not cause me to return. If I found the night cold,
she must find it bitter. If desolation oppressed my naturally hopeful
spirit, must it not be more overwhelming yet to one whose memories
were sad and whose future was doubtful? And the child! What infant
could live in an air like this! Edging away from the house, I called out
her name, but no answer came back. The persons whom