Spice Box (2 page)

Herbert had taken off his overcoat and hung it in the hall closet, paused to take a deep draught from a bottle he had hidden on a shelf behind the door, and then as he heard her descending the stairs, he hastily corked the almost empty bottle and slid it back on the shelf. Leaving the door carelessly swinging open behind him, he hurried out and waited for her at the foot of the stairs, a maudlin delight in his drunken face that filled her with a frenzy of fear. Yet she did her best to come on calmly, not to let him see that she was frightened.

The heavy frown cleared away from Herbert’s cruelly handsome face, and something almost gloating took its place, as if he were watching a new possession and delighting in it, a possession whose full value he had not heretofore realized. Trying not to look at him, nor to see the expression of his face, Janice came steadily down till she reached the last step. Then suddenly Herbert stepped forward, lifting her hand from the banister and drawing her close to him. Flinging his arms about her fiercely, he laid his lips on her sweet shrinking ones and strained her to him.

“My darling! My beautiful one,” he cried, pressing his face to hers, “you are all mine now! There is no one between us anymore!”

With a wild cry Janice tried to tear herself away from his grasp, those circling arms that were so fierce and strong about her, to turn her face away from those disgusting, clinging lips, gasping and crying out, forgetful of listening servants, of all else save the necessity to get away. But she was held as in a vise, and her face was smothered with loathsome kisses.

At last she wrenched one hand loose and beat wildly against his face, his eyes, his mouth, she could not see where, only to struggle her best and get away.

For an instant he struggled with her, angrily, and then one of her blows must have reached his eye, for he staggered back, his hold about her relaxing, and the girl slid down at his feet.

“You little devil!” he said fiercely. “I’ll teach you! You’ll learn to take it and like it, do you hear that?” And with one hand to his eye, he staggered toward her again.

But Janice, her terror giving her new strength, sprang to her feet and fled from his outstretched hands down the hall toward the front door. Where she was going she did not stop to think, only to get out and away.

Before her stood the hall closet door, swung wide, as Herbert had carelessly left it, and there on the door hook hung an old evening wrap of her sister’s, a long warm circular garment of dull blue. It was richly lined and trimmed with fur, but of a fashion of several years back, and therefore it had fallen into common use. Louise had worn it, she remembered, that last walk they took together around the yard before her final illness and, coming in exhausted, had thrown it down on a hall chair where the maid had found it and hung it in the closet. Such a train of thought to flash across her mind in that moment of stress, but it was her sister’s hand held out to help her.

She caught at the cloak now and dashed out the front door, closing it sharply behind her. She knew that Herbert would be following at once. There was no time to pause.

The fierce winter wind met her like a wild beast, breathed its burning-cold breath on her bare arms and throat, searched her shrinking flesh clad in that thin gown. The sleet cut and scratched her face and hands, and the first step of her light slippers from the threshold into the deep carpet of snow that had already drifted up to the very doorway chilled her through and through.

Yet she dared not hesitate an instant. She plunged wildly down the steps and into the deeper snow of the path, struggling frantically while she tried to fling the cloak about her. She finally succeeded in straining it across her shoulders, holding it fast as she fought against fierce wind and snow, down to the street and out on the road, not realizing what direction she was taking.

Something had happened to the streetlights, and the way was very dark as she sped on. Her fingers were fumbling to find the fastenings of the cloak. If she could only get it buttoned about her! And there was a capacious hood that would cover her head.

But she was too much afraid that Herbert would come out after her. She was faintly conscious that she heard the front door open behind her, heard her name called fiercely, angrily, and so she sped on into the darkness. The sound made her forget the cold and wet, and she plunged wildly on in the night. She must get away from Herbert. If he caught her he would bring her back, and she dared not think of what might happen.

When the baffled maniac rallied from the pain in his eyes Janice’s blow had given him, he stumbled toward the front door, pausing a moment to look into the hall coatroom, with a vague idea that the girl might be hiding in there, else why should that door be open? His dazed mind utterly forgot that he had left it unlatched when he hung up his hat and coat. But he could not believe that Janice had actually gone into the storm on a night like this.

And then he flung the front door wide, and the light streamed out into the storm, lighting up the snow-filled air till it seemed like a great shaft of gold. Janice, shivering into the shelter of a great hedge, saw it and hurried off, farther and farther from the house.

Herbert had expected to find his young sister-in-law near at hand. Perhaps hiding on the front porch. Or she might have merely gone around to the back door and entered the house again that way. She would likely go up to her room and lock herself in. If she had, he would get her, even if he had to break down the door. She should not elude him. He would find her and bring her down again and conquer her!

He purposely waited a moment, to frighten her, if she had really gone out. She would be ready enough to come back out of the cold when she got good and scared, but now, as he stepped outside the doorway and gazed up and down the white flurry of the outer world, he could not see any sign of her. The deep whiteness everywhere brought to his muddled mind the scene at the grave and the awful whiteness of the cemetery. He turned angrily back into the warmth and light of the house, shuddering away from the whirlwind of whiteness. She must be in the house somewhere. She must be! He slammed the door shut, leaving her out in the storm. He could never follow her out into that cold and sleet. He hated discomfort. Not even his anger could carry him so far.

Janice heard the slamming of the door, but did not know whether he had gone back or was still following her, and her terrified feet kept speeding on, numb with cold in their slight covering, struggling through the deep snow as though by superhuman strength. Corner after corner she turned in her flight, out into the country, not stopping to think where she was going.

Stumbling and blind, scarcely knowing what she did, she made her way into the road, through drifts that almost brought her to her knees. Only the strenuous effort necessary to keep moving made her unaware of the fearful cold, the sting of the sleet in her face, the numbing ache in her feet. The hood had slipped back from her head and the snow was covering her hair, lashing into her eyes unmercifully.

And then at the crossroads there was a familiar sign pointing the way to the cemetery. Without an instant’s hesitation she turned into the road through which she had ridden only a little while before. Ah! Here was sanctuary! There was no place for her in this world, but she could rest beside her sister. Here was peace!

She stumbled on. The snow had drifted deeply here, and in some places was much beyond her depth. But she floundered on, again and again plunging down into what seemed bottomless depths and then struggling up again, on toward the place where they had laid her sister that afternoon.

The drifts were deeper here, for the wind had been at work, sweeping down the long bare road from the hilltop, hurling the eddying snow higher. At the side there were places where it was even now above her head, with only a narrow path that was wadable around it, and ever as she struggled on, each step seemed more and more impossible.

The tears had frozen on her white cheeks, and her lips were numb with cold. The frozen cry of her heart stifled in her throat, and there was none to hear. “Oh Louise, my sister, let me come with you!”

Then suddenly she stumbled forward and lost her footing in a deep drift that seemed to envelope her. And there above her loomed the big stone arch that marked the entrance of the cemetery.

She sank back wearily, and the great white drift received her and folded cold arms about her. The lights from the stone arches touched her gold hair till it looked like a coronet, and the long sable-edged robe wrapped around her like a sumptuous winding sheet.

Once she opened her eyes, looked up to the gateway, and tried to struggle up again but found herself too weary and sank back once more, dreaming that her wish for death was coming true. For Herbert would never think to seek for her there. She was alone and safe at last.

Was God anywhere about? And did He care?

Then she closed her eyes, and the snow softly fell on her face and on her eyelids, and the light glinted down and touched her with unearthly beauty.

H
oward Sterling, the young house doctor from the sanitarium at Enderby, had been detailed to accompany a patient home who was still in critical condition, but whom for certain reasons it seemed best to put back among familiar surroundings for a time.

They went in the ambulance. Two nurses had attended on the way and were to remain with the patient indefinitely. The young doctor was to stay overnight if it seemed necessary. But if all went well he had promised to return that evening so that another intern who was taking his place in his absence might get away to attend his sister’s wedding. The patient had borne it well and did not seem much exhausted. The experiment of bringing him home had proved so far a successful one, and he seemed to be resting comfortably. There was no reason at all why the young doctor should stay any longer. The ambulance had returned immediately, but there was still time to make the six o’clock train back to Enderby and take over for Brownleigh so that he could start early for the wedding.

On the other hand, there was a girl, Rose Bradford, in whom he was somewhat interested. She lived only five miles from the house of the patient, and there was time, if he hurried, to make a call upon Rose and then return to see how the patient fared before catching the seven o’clock train from the Crossroads Junction. It was an express that would get him to Enderby a little after eight. He could telephone Brownleigh to arrange for one of the other doctors to take over during the brief interval, only a half hour or so. That would still get Brownleigh to the wedding in time. It was better, perhaps, that he should arrange to do this and so have time to take another look at the patient before he left anyway. So his decision was made.

There was no difficulty in securing a conveyance to take him over to the Bradford estate. The grateful family of the patient could not do enough for him. Dr. Sterling was speeding in a luxurious car toward Rose Bradford.

It happened that Rose was even more interested in the young doctor than he was in her, and she was quite anxious for her father to meet him. She knew her father was a man of influence and could, if he chose, put her young doctor on his way to a name and fame, and place him far beyond the mere drudgery of a common house doctor in a private hospital. So as soon as she received his telephone call she set about at once planning how she might keep him at her home until her father’s return that evening, to dinner, and for the night. Then they would have opportunity to get acquainted.

There was quite a house party of young people staying at Bradford Gables, and they put their heads together to make arrangements for a brilliant evening affair that would without doubt beguile the staunchest and sternest adherent to duty that the medical profession could show. So when young Sterling arrived at the Gables he found the stage set for a prolonged stay, with a delightful program prepared.

He looked about the luxurious house and down on the attractive Rose-girl who awaited his answer with eyes that pleaded eloquently, and felt greatly tempted.

Rose Bradford was small and slender, with wild-rose cheeks and lips like a small red bud. Her hair was dark and curling and fitted close about her face.

He looked down admiringly into her lovely, dark, melting eyes, and his expressive face took on that indulgent gentleness used to speaking to sweet, pretty children.

“How I wish I could,” he said wistfully. “It would be most charming. You certainly are an enchantress, and perhaps I should turn and flee at once, for you are making it more and more difficult for me.”

The eyes melted their sweetest into his glance, and the pleading began in a soft, gentle voice. She was thinking how engagingly the doctor’s crisp hair waved away from his forehead. He was handsome as a Greek god. Why did he have to be poor, and a doctor? Why hadn’t he been born the son of a millionaire instead of that tiresome Channy Foswick that her mother wanted her to marry?

There was a fresh, bright color on the young doctor’s cheeks that spoke of abounding health and clean living, but Rose didn’t think much about such things. She was admiring the interesting whimsical twinkle in his gray eyes, and she was determined to keep him at the house as long as possible, so she kept up her insistence.

“But I can’t possibly stay,” he told her. “The man who is taking my place at the sanitarium is due at his sister’s wedding tonight. I promised to be back and take over.”

Rose shrugged her dainty shoulders. “After all, what is a
sister’s
wedding? He wouldn’t be missed,” she said. “It isn’t as if it were something necessary, like illness or death. Can’t you make it up to him afterward? Get him a whole day off or something? Besides, wouldn’t he think the patient had required you to stay? Isn’t it really safer for you to stay a few days and see how the patient gets along at home? Surely you
ought
to stay, at least overnight.”

But young Dr. Sterling, in spite of his Greek-god features, had a strong firm chin under the curve of his pleasant mouth.