My Pretty Maid; or, Liane Lester

But in her haste Roma made one fatal mistake.

In groping for the glass, she held the vial with the arsenic clasped in her hand.

And she was very nervous, her white hands trembling as they fluttered over the little medicine stand by the head of the bed.

That was why, the next moment, there came the sharp clink of glass against glass as her hands came in contact with what she sought, overturning and breaking both, with such a sharp, keen, crystalline tinkle that both the sleepers were aroused suddenly and quickly, and Mr. Clarke flung out his arms, clutching Roma ere she could escape, and demanding bewilderedly:

"What is the matter? Who is this?"

"Edmund! Edmund!" cried his equally startled wife, hastily lighting a night lamp close to her arm, in time to see Roma writhing and struggling in her father's arms.

"Roma!" he panted.

"Roma!" echoed his wife.

It was a situation to strike terror to the girl's guilty heart.

But in her scheming she had not failed to take into account any possible contretemps.

Failing in her efforts to escape before her identity was detected, Roma laughed aloud, hysterically:

"Dear papa, do not squeeze me so hard, please; you take away my breath! Why, you must take me for a burglar!"

Edmund Clarke, releasing her and not yet fully awake, stammered drowsily:

"Yes—I—took—you—for—a—burglar. What do you want, Roma?"

"Yes, what is the matter, my dear?" added Mrs. Clarke wonderingly, while Roma, mistress of the situation still, pressed her hand to her cheek, groaning hysterically:

"Oh, papa, mamma, forgive me for arousing you, but I am suffering so much with a wretched toothache, and I came to ask you for some medicine to ease it!"

"Poor dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Clarke, with immediate maternal sympathy, as she rose quickly from her bed and motioned Roma into her dressing room, searching for remedies within a little medicine case while she plied her with questions.

"When did it begin to ache, dear? Why didn't you send Dolly for the medicine? It will make you worse, coming along the cold corridors!"

"For goodness' sake, don't tease! Give me the medicine quick as you can!" Roma answered crossly, dropping into a chair and hiding her face in her hands, her whole form shaking with fury at the failure of her scheme to kill Edmund Clarke.

A blind, terrible rage possessed her, and she would have liked to spring upon him and clutch his throat with murderous hands.

But she dare not give way to her murderous impulse; she must wait and try her luck again, for die he must, and that very soon.

She could only wreak her pent-up rage by cross answers to the gentle lady she called mother, and Mrs. Clarke, with a patient sigh of wounded feeling, turned to her, replying:

"I did not mean to tease you, Roma, but here is some medicine. Put five drops of it upon this bit of cotton and press it into the cavity of your tooth, and it will give you speedy relief. In the morning you must visit a dentist."

Roma lifted her pale face, and answered:

"Yes, I will visit a dentist, but not one at Stonecliff. I will go to Boston by the early train."

"I will go with you and do some shopping," said her mother, who had a very feminine love of finery.

"Very well," the girl answered, scowling behind her hand, for she preferred to go alone on her mission to Granny Jenks.

But she realized that it would not do to offend the only person who seemed to have any real fondness for her, so, making a wry face behind her hand, she went up to Mrs. Clarke, saying gently:

"I did not mean to be cross to you, dear mamma, but I am in such agony with this pain that I could not help my impatience. I want you to forgive me and try not to love me any less for my faults, please."

Mrs. Clarke could not help wondering what favor Roma was planning to ask for now, but she answered sweetly:

"I forgive you, dear, and, of course, I shall always love my daughter."

"But papa does not love me much. I often meet his glance fixed on me in cold disapproval, and at times he is very stern to me!" complained Roma.

"That must be your fancy, dear. He could not help loving you, his own daughter, dearly and fondly," soothed the lady, though she knew that she had herself noticed and complained of the same thing in her husband.

"You do not love Roma as I do," she had said to him, reproachfully, many times, getting always an evasive, unsatisfactory reply.

So she could not offer her much comfort on this score; she could only put her arm about the form of the arch traitress, murmuring kind, tender words, actually getting in return a loving caress that surprised her very much, it was so unusual.

But Roma for the first time in her life comprehended the necessity of fortifying her position by a staunch ally like her mother.

"I will go back to my room now. I must not keep you up any longer in the cold, dear, patient mamma," she cried gushingly, as she kissed her and left the room.

Mrs. Clarke was grateful for the caress, but she retired to bed with the firm conviction that it would take a very large check indeed to gratify Roma's desires in Boston to-morrow. Her affectionate spells were always very costly to her parents.

"Do you think I had better take the second dose of that sedative? I am very nervous from my sudden awakening, and wish we had locked the door on retiring," her husband said petulantly.

"It would be very unkind to lock the door on our own daughter. Roma was just now lamenting your sternness and lack of love and sympathy," returned the lady.

Edmund Clarke stifled an imprecation between his teeth, then demanded earnestly:

"Have I ever failed in love and sympathy to you, dear Elinor?"

"Never, my darling husband," she answered, fondly clasping his hand.

"And never will my love fail you, dearest; but I cannot say as much for Roma, whose nature is so unlike yours that I confess she repels instead of attracts me," he exclaimed, reaching out for the medicine and exclaiming impatiently on finding the glass broken and the draught lost.

Ah, how nearly it had been a fatal draught, had not Heaven interposed to save his life!

As he set it back on the table, he added:

"Why, here is a broken vial on the table beside the glass. I wonder how it came there!"

"I do not know; but it really does not matter, dear. There, now, shut your eyes, and try to sleep," advised his wife, knowing the importance of sound, healthful sleep to the convalescent.

But to her dismay he arose and turned the key in the lock, saying as he lay down again:

"I'll try to sleep now; but I'll make sure first of not being disturbed again."