That was Grace Carden's first anonymous letter. Its contents curdled her veins with poison. The poor girl sat pale and benumbed, turning the letter in her hand, and reading the fatal words over and over again.
There was a time when she would have entirely disbelieved this slander; but now she remembered, with dismay, how many things had combined to attach Henry to Jael Dence. And then the letter stated such hard facts; facts unknown to her, but advanced positively.
But what terrified her most was that Henry had so lately told her Jael Dence loved him best.
Yet her tossed and tortured mind laid hold of this comfort, that not the man only, but the woman too, were loyal, faithful spirits.
Could they both have changed? Appearances are deceitful, and might have deceived this anonymous writer.
After hours of mere suffering, she began to ask herself what she should do?
Her first feminine impulse was to try and find out the truth without Henry's aid.
But no; on second thoughts she would be open and loyal, show Henry the letter, and ask him to tell her how much truth, if any, there was in it.
The agony she endured was a lesson to her. Now she knew what jealousy was; and saw at once she could not endure its torments.
She thought to herself he was quite right to make her dismiss Mr. Coventry, and he must dismiss Jael; she should insist on it.
This resolution formed, she lived on thorns, awaiting Henry Little's next visit.
He came next day, but she was out.
She asked the servant if he had said anything.
The servant said, "He seemed a good deal put out at first, miss, but afterward he said, 'No, it was all for the best.'"
This was another blow. Grace connected these words of Henry in some mysterious way with the anonymous letter, and spent the night crying: but in the morning, being a brave, high-spirited girl, she resolved to take a direct course; she would go down to the works, and request an explanation on the premises. She would see the room where Henry was said to pass so many hours with Jael, and she would show him that the man she loved, and lived for, must place himself above suspicion, or lose her forever. "And if he quarrels with me for that," she thought, "why, I can die." She actually carried out her resolution, and went early next morning to the works to demand an explanation. She took the letter with her. As she went along she discussed in her own mind how she should proceed, and at last she resolved to just hand him the letter and fix her eye on him.
His face would tell her the truth.
She drove up to the great gate; there were a good many people about, talking, in excited groups.
The porter came out to her. She said she wished to see Mr. Little.
The porter stared: the people within hearing left off talking, and stared too, at her, and then at one another.
At last the porter found his voice. "Mr. Little! why, we can't find him anywhere, dead or alive."
Just then Ransome came out, and, seeing Miss Carden, gave a start, and looked much concerned.
Grace noticed this look, and her own face began to fill with surprise, and then with alarm. "Not to be found!" she faltered.
She did not know Mr. Ransome, but he knew her; and he came to the carriage-window and said, in a low voice, "Miss Carden, I am the chief-constable. I would advise you to return home. The fact is, there has been an explosion here, and a young woman nearly killed."
"Poor creature! But Mr. Little! Oh, sir! Oh, sir!"
"We can't find him," said Ransome, solemnly: "and we fear--we sadly fear--"
Grace uttered a low cry, and then sat trembling.
Ransome tried to console her; said it was just possible he might have not slept in the works.
The porter shook his head.
Grace sprung from the carriage. "Show me the place," said she, hoarsely.
Ransome demurred. "It is an ugly sight for any one to see."
"Who has a better right to see it than I? I shall find him if he is there. Give me your arm: I have heard him speak of you."
Then Ransome yielded reluctantly, and took her to the place.
He showed her Henry's room, all rent and mutilated.
She shuddered, and, covering her face with her hands, leaned half fainting against her conductor; but soon she shook this off, and became inspired with strange energy, though her face was like marble.
She drew him, indeed almost dragged him, hither and thither, questioning him, and listening to everybody's conjectures; for there were loud groups here of work-people and towns-people.
Some thought he was buried under the great chimney in the river, others intimated plainly their fear that he was blown to atoms.
At each suggestion Grace Carden's whole body winced and quivered as if the words were sword cuts, but she would not be persuaded to retire. "No, no," she cried, "amongst so many, some one will guess right. I'll hear all they think, if I die on the spot: die! What is life to me now? Ah! what is that woman saying?" And she hurried Ransome toward a work-woman who was haranguing several of her comrades.
The woman saw Ransome coming toward her with a strange lady.
"Ah!" said she, "here's the constable. Mr. Ransome, will ye tell me where you found the lass, yesternight?"
"She was lying on that heap of bricks: I marked the place with two pieces of chalk; ay, here they are; her head lay here, and her feet here."
"Well, then," said the woman, "he will not be far from that place.
You clear away those bricks and rubbish, and you will find him underneath. She was his sweetheart, that is well known here; and he was safe to be beside her when the place was blown up."
"No such thing," said Ransome, angrily, and casting a side-look at Grace. "She lay on the second floor, and Mr. Little on the first floor."
"Thou simple body," said the woman. "What's a stair to a young man when a bonny lass lies awaiting him, and not a soul about? They were a deal too close together all day, to be distant at night."
A murmur of assent burst at once from all the women.
Grace's body winced and quivered, but her marble face never stirred, nor did her lips utter a sound.
"Come away from their scandalous tongues," said Ransome, eagerly.
