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Page 62
Gordon nodded.
"Oh, Uncle Tom, who was she, and why did she lock me up?" asked
Clemency.
"Clemency," said Gordon, in a sterner voice than Clemency had ever heard
him use toward her, "never speak, never think, of that woman or that man
again. Now go out and eat your dinner."
CHAPTER XII
Clemency was so worn out that Doctor Gordon insisted upon her going to
bed directly after dinner, and he and James had a solitary evening in
the office, with the exception of Gordon's frequent absence in his
wife's room. Each time when he returned he looked more gloomy. "I have
increased the morphine almost as much as I dare," he said, coming into
the office about ten. He sat down and lit his pipe. James laid down the
evening paper which he had been reading. "Is she asleep now?" he asked.
"Yes. By the way, Elliot, have you guessed who that woman was who
kidnapped Clemency?"
James hesitated. "I don't fairly know whether I am right, but I have
guessed," he replied.
"Who?"
"The nurse."
"You are right. It was the nurse. That man had won her over, and set her
up housekeeping in Westover. He had been staying at the hotel there
before he came here. He was her lover, of course, although he was too
circumspect not to guard the secret. She has been living in that house
for the last three months under the name of Mrs. Wood, a widow. The
former occupants went away last summer, Aaron has been telling me. He
said that once he himself saw the man enter the house, and he had seen
the woman on the street. She had made herself quite popular in Westover.
It was no part of that man's policy to keep his vice behind locked
doors. Locks themselves are the best witness against evil. She attended
the Dutch Reformed Church regularly. She was present at all the church
suppers, and everybody has called on her in Westover. Now I think she
has fled, half-crazed with grief over the death of her lover, and afraid
of some sort of exposure. Unless I miss my guess, there will be a furor
around here shortly over her disappearance. She was not a bad woman as I
remember her, and she was attractive, with a kindly disposition. But he
had his way always with women, and I suppose she thought she was doing
him a service by kidnapping poor little Clemency. I am sorry for her. I
hope she did not go away penniless, but she has her nursing to fall
back upon. She was a good nurse. That makes me think. I must see if Mrs.
Blair cannot come here to-morrow. Clara must have somebody beside
Clemency and Emma. I should prefer a trained nurse, and this woman is
simply the self-taught village sort, but Clara prefers her. She shrinks
at the very mention of a trained nurse. Of course, it is unreasonable,
but the poor soul has always had an awful dread of hospitals and a
possible operation, and I believe that in some way she thinks a trained
nurse one of a dreadful trinity. She must be humored, of course. The
result cannot be changed."
"You have no hope, then?" James said in a low voice.
"I have had no more from the outset than if she had been already dead,"
said Gordon.
James said nothing. An enormous pity for the other man was within him.
He thought of Clemency, and he seemed to undergo the same pangs. He felt
such a terrible understanding of the other's suffering that it passed
the bounds of sympathy. It became almost experience. His young face took
on the same expression of dull misery as Gordon's. Presently Gordon
glanced at him, and spoke with a ring of gratitude and affection in his
tired voice.
"You are a good fellow, Elliot," he said, "and you are the one ray of
comfort I have. I am glad that I have you to leave poor little Clemency
with."
James looked at him with sudden alarm. "You are not ill?" he said.
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