THE gardener opened the gate to us on this occasion. He had evidently received his orders in anticipation of my arrival.
"Mrs. Valeria?" he asked.
"Yes."
"And friend?"
"And friend."
"Please to step upstairs. You know the house."Crossing the hall, I stopped for a moment, and looked at a favorite walking-cane which Benjamin still kept in his hand.
"Your cane will only be in your way," I said. "Had you not better leave it here?""My cane may be useful upstairs," retorted Benjamin, gruffly.
"_I_ haven't forgotten what happened in the library."It was no time to contend with him. I led the way up the stairs.
Arriving at the upper flight of steps, I was startled by hearing a sudden cry from the room above. It was like the cry of a person in pain; and it was twice repeated before we entered the circular antechamber. I was the first to approach the inner room, and to see the many-sided Miserrimus Dexter in another new aspect of his character.
The unfortunate Ariel was standing before a table, with a dish of little cakes placed in front of her. Round each of her wrists was tied a string, the free ends of which (at a distance of a few yards) were held in Miserrimus Dexter's hands. "Try again, my beauty!" I heard him say, as I stopped on the threshold of the door. "Take a cake." At the word of command, Ariel submissively stretched out one arm toward the dish. Just as she touched a cake with the tips of her fingers her hand was jerked away by a pull at the string, so savagely cruel in the nimble and devilish violence of it that I felt inclined to snatch Benjamin's cane out of his hand and break it over Miserrimus Dexter's back. Ariel suffered the pain this time in Spartan silence. The position in which she stood enabled her to be the first to see me at the door. She had discovered me. Her teeth were set; her face was flushed under the struggle to restrain herself. Not even a sigh escaped her in my presence.
"Drop the string!" I called out, indignantly "Release her, Mr. Dexter, or I shall leave the house."
At the sound of my voice he burst out with a shrill cry of welcome. His eyes fastened on me with a fierce, devouring delight.
"Come in! come in!" he cried. "See what I am reduced to in the maddening suspense of waiting for you. See how I kill the time when the time parts us. Come in! come in! I am in one of my malicious humors this morning, caused entirely, Mrs. Valeria, by my anxiety to see you. When I am in my malicious humors I must tease something. I am teasing Ariel. Look at her! She has had nothing to eat all day, and she hasn't been quick enough to snatch a morsel of cake yet. You needn't pity her. Ariel has no nerves--I don't hurt her.""Ariel has no nerves," echoed the poor creature, frowning at me for interfering between her master and herself. "He doesn't hurt me."I heard Benjamin beginning to swing his cane behind him.
"Drop the string!" I reiterated, more vehemently than ever. "Drop it, or I shall instantly leave you."Miserrimus Dexter's delicate nerves shuddered at my violence.
"What a glorious voice!" he exclaimed--and dropped the string.
"Take the cakes," he added, addressing Ariel in his most imperial manner.
She passed me, with the strings hanging from her swollen wrists, and the dish of cakes in her hand. She nodded her head at me defiantly.
"Ariel has got no nerves," she repeated, proudly. "He doesn't hurt me.""You see," said Miserrimus Dexter, "there is no harm done--and Idropped the strings when you told me. Don't _begin_ by being hard on me, Mrs. Valeria, after your long absence." He paused.
Benjamin, standing silent in the doorway, attracted his attention for the first time. "Who is this?" he asked, and wheeled his chair suspiciously nearer to the door. "I know!" he cried, before I could answer. "This is the benevolent gentleman who looked like the refuge of the afflicted when I saw him last.--You have altered for the worse since then, sir. You have stepped into quite a new character--you personify Retributive Justice now.--Your new protector, Mrs. Valeria--I understand!" He bowed low to Benjamin, with ferocious irony. "Your humble servant, Mr. Retributive Justice! I have deserved you--and I submit to you.
Walk in, sir! I will take care that your new office shall be a sinecure. This lady is the Light of my Life. Catch me failing in respect to her if you can!" He backed his chair before Benjamin (who listened to him in contemptuous silence) until he reached the part of the room in which I was standing. "Your hand, Light of my Life!" he murmured in his gentlest tones. "Your hand--only to show that you have forgiven me!" I gave him my hand. "One?" he whispered, entreatingly. "Only one?" He kissed my hand once, respectfully--and dropped it with a heavy sigh. "Ah, poor Dexter!" he said, pitying himself with the whole sincerity of his egotism. "A warm heart--wasted in solitude, mocked by deformity.
Sad! sad! Ah, poor Dexter!" He looked round again at Benjamin, with another flash of his ferocious irony. "A beauteous day, sir," he said, with mock-conventional courtesy. "Seasonable weather indeed after the late long-continued rains. Can I offer you any refreshment? Won't you sit down? Retributive Justice, when it is no taller than you are, looks best in a chair.""And a monkey looks best in a cage," rejoined Benjamin, enraged at the satirical reference to his shortness of stature. "I was waiting, sir, to see you get into your swing."The retort produced no effect on Miserrimus Dexter: it appeared to have passed by him unheard. He had changed again; he was thoughtful, he was subdued; his eyes were fixed on me with a sad and rapt attention. I took the nearest arm-chair, first casting a glance at Benjamin, which he immediately understood. He placed himself behind Dexter, at an angle which commanded a view of my chair. Ariel, silently devouring her cakes, crouched on a stool at "the Master's" feet, and looked up at him like a faithful dog.
