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diff --git a/40333-0.txt b/40333-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd8e889 --- /dev/null +++ b/40333-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4833 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40333 *** + +Transcriber's Notes: + + 1. Page scan source: + http://www.archive.org/details/richmansrelative03clel + (University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign) + + 2. Pages 86-87 are missing. They do not appear to be critical to + the story. + + 3. The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. + + + + + + + A RICH MAN'S RELATIVES + + + + + + + PRESS NOTICES + + OF + + "INCHBRACKEN," + + A NOVEL BY R. CLELAND + + * * * + + _Westminster Review, October_, 1883. + +"Inchbracken" is a clever sketch of Scottish life and manners at the +time of the "Disruption," or great secession from the Established +Church of Scotland, which resulted in the formation of the Free +Church. The scene of the story is a remote country parish in the north +of Scotland, within a few miles of the highland line. The main +interest centres in the young Free Church minister and his sister and +their relations, on the one hand, with the enthusiastic supporters of +the Disruption movement, mostly of the peasant or small tradesmen +class, with a sprinkling of the smaller landowners; and, on the other +hand, with the zealous supporters of the Established Church, +represented by the Drysdales of Inchbracken, the great family of the +neighbourhood. The story is well and simply told, with many a quiet +touch of humour, founded on no inconsiderable knowledge of human +nature. + + _Academy, 27th October_, 1883. + +There is a great deal of solid writing in "Inchbracken," and they who +read it will hardly do so in vain. It is a story of the Disruption; +and it sets forth, with much pains and not a little spirit, the +humours and scandals of one of the communities affected by the event. +The main incident of the story has nothing to do with the Disruption, +it is true; but its personages are those of the time, and the uses to +which they are put are such as the Disruption made possible. Roderick +Brown, the enthusiastic young Free Church minister, finds on the +sea-shore after wreck and storm, a poor little human waif which the +sea has spared. He takes the baby home, and does his best for it. One +of his parishioners has lost her character, however; and as Roderick, +at the instigation of his beadle, the real author of her ruin, is good +enough to give her money and help, it soon becomes evident to +Inchbracken that he is the villain, and that the baby of the wreck is +the fruit of an illicit amour. How it ends I shall not say. I shall do +no more than note that the story of the minister's trials and the +portraitures--of elders and gossips, hags and maids and village +notables--with which it is enriched are (especially if you are not +afraid of the broadest Scotch, written with the most uncompromising +regard for the national honour) amusing and natural in no mean degree. + + W. E. HENLEY. + + _Athenæum, 17th November_, 1883. + +"Inchbracken" will be found amusing by those who are familiar with +Scotch country life. The period chosen, the "Disruption time," is an +epoch in the religious and social life of Scotland, marking a revival, +in an extremely modified and not altogether genuine form, of the +polemic Puritanism of the early Presbyterians, and so furnishing a +subject which lends itself better to literary treatment than most +sides of Scottish life in this prosaic century. The author has a good +descriptive gift, and makes the most of the picturesque side of the +early Free Church meetings at which declaimers against Erastian +patronage posed in the attitude of the Covenanters of old. The story +opens on a stormy night when Roderick Brown, the young Free Church +minister of Kilrundle, is summoned on a ten-mile expedition to attend +a dying woman, an expedition which involves him in all the troubles +which form the subject of the book. The patient has nothing on her +mind of an urgent character. "No, mem! na!" says the messenger. + +"My granny's a godly auld wife, tho' maybe she's gye fraxious whiles, +an' money's the sair paikin' she's gi'en me; gin there was ocht to +confess she kens the road to the Throne better nor maist. But ye see +there's a maggit gotten intil her heid an' she says she bent to +testifee afore she gangs hence." + +The example of Jenny Geddes has been too much for the poor old +woman:-- + +"Ay, an' I'm thinkin' it's that auld carline, Jenny Geddes, 'at's +raised a' the fash! My granny gaed to hear Mester Dowlas whan he +preached among the whins down by the shore, an' oh, but he was bonny! +An' a graand screed o' doctrine he gae us. For twa hale hours he +preached an expundet an' never drew breath for a' the wind was +skirlin', an' the renn whiles skelpin' like wild. An' I'm thinkin' my +granny's gotten her death o' ta'. But oh! an' he was grand on Jenny +Geddes! an' hoo she up wi' the creepie am' heved it a the Erastian's +heid. An' my granny was just fairly ta'en wi't a', an' she vooed she +beut to be a mither in Israel tae, an' whan she gaed hame she out wi' +the auld hugger 'at she keeps the bawbees in, aneath the hearthstane, +for to buy a creepie o' her ain,--she thocht a new ane wad be best for +the Lord's wark,--an' she coupet the chair whaur hung her grave +claes,' at she airs fonent the fire ilika Saturday at e'en, 'an out +there cam a lowe, an' scorched a hole i' the windin' sheet, an' noo, +puir body, we'll hae to hap her in her muckle tartan plaid. An' +aiblins she'll be a' the warmer e'y moulds for that. But, however, she +says the sheet was weel waur'd, for the guid cause. An' syne she took +til her bed, wi' a sair host, an' sma' winder, for there was a weet +daub whaur she had been sittin' amang the whins. An' noo the host's +settled on her that sair, she whiles canna draw her breath. Sae she +says she maun let the creepie birlin' slide, but she beut to testifee +afore some godly minister or she gangs hence. An' I'm fear'd, sir, ye +maun hurry, for she's real far through." + +The excuse for this long extract must be its excellence as a specimen +of a long-winded statement, just such as a Scotch fisher boy would +make when once the ice was broken. Not less idiomatic is the interview +between Mrs. Boague, the shepherd's wife, and Mrs. Sangster "of +Auchlippie," the great lady of the congregation, when the latter has +had her painful experience of mountain climbing, till rescued by the +"lug and the horn" at the hands of her spiritual pastor. Other good +scenes are the meeting of the two old wives in mutches an the brae +side, and the final discomfiture of the hypocritical scamp Joseph +Smiley by his mother-in-law, Tibbie Tirpie, who rights her daughter's +wrongs and the minister's reputation by a capital _coup de main_. Of +more serious interest, though full of humour, are the trials the +excellent Roderick endures at the hands of his kirk session. Ebenezer +Prittie and Peter Malloch are types of many an elder minister and +ministers' wives have had to groan under, and the race is not extinct. +But all who are interested in such specimens of human nature should +refer to Mr. Cleland, who knows his countrymen as well as he can +describe his country. + + + + + * * * * * + + Select Novels by Popular Authors. + + _Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d. each_. + + By Florence Marryat. + + MY SISTER THE ACTRESS. + A BROKEN BLOSSOM. + PHYLLIDA. + THE ROOT OF ALL EVIL. + FACING THE FOOTLIGHTS. + + By Annie Thomas. + + ALLERTON TOWERS. + FRIENDS AND LOVERS. + EYRE OF BLENDON. + + + By Mrs. Eiloart. + + THE DEAN'S WIFE. + SOME OF OUR GIRLS. + + + By Lady Constance Howard. + + SWEETHEART AND WIFE. + MOLLIE DARLING. + + + By the Author of "Recommended to Mercy." + + BARBARA'S WARNING. + + + By Mrs. Alexander Fraser. + + A PROFESSIONAL BEAUTY. + + + By Harriett Jay. + + TWO MEN AND A MAID. + + + + + + + A + + RICH MAN'S RELATIVES. + + + + BY + + R. CLELAND, + + AUTHOR OF "INCHBRACKEN." + + + + _IN THREE VOLUMES_. + + VOL. III. + + + + + LONDON: + + F. V. WHITE AND CO., + + 31, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND, W.C. + 1885. + + + + + + + PRINTED BY + KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS; + AND MIDDLE MILL KINGSTON-ON-THAMES. + + + + + + + CONTENTS + + * * * + + CHAP. + + I.--Banks and Brays. + + II.--A Confidante. + + III.--Friends in Council. + + IV.--Moonlight and Shadow. + + V.--Murder. + + VI.--Nemesis. + + VII.--Rescue. + + VIII.--It was all Webb's Fault. + + IX.--Joe Proposes. + + X.--At Gorham. + + XI.--Planting Hyacinths. + + XII.--Randolph's Buckling. + + XIII. At Caughnawaga. + + XIV.--Thérèse's Revenge. + + XV.--The Selbys. + + XVI.--Betsey as Good Fairy. + + XVII.--At Last. + + XVIII.--The Broker Broke. + + + + + A RICH MAN'S RELATIVES. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + BANKS AND BRAYS. + + +Ralph's satisfaction at carrying through his man[oe]uvre with the +mining company's directors amounted almost to elation. The unexpected +appearance of opposition in that docile body had startled him at +first, but he had been able to ride it down in so summary and +highhanded a fashion that he doubted not but the spirit was quenched +for ever, and congratulated himself on its having appeared at a moment +when it could so easily and utterly be crushed and abolished. A +meeting of the bank directors next door was now due. Glancing at his +watch, he found that he was already fifteen minutes late, caught up +his portfolio of bank papers in haste, and passed by way of the +dressing-room into the bank, confident as an Alexander mounting his +war-horse, and riding forth to new victories. + +A breath of chill air blew in his face as he entered the board-room +and met reserved and distant glances on every side. They had not +waited for his coming, and were already deep in business. His own +arm-chair, he observed--the arm-chair of pre-eminence at the end of +the table, heretofore sacred to his own use, was occupied by M. +Petitôt, the pork packer, vice-president of the bank, who, however, +had the grace to rise apologetically, and make way, observing that +they had feared Mr. Herkimer did not intend to be present, when Mr. +Jowler, the bark dealer, sprang to his feet, and moved that the +vice-president retain the chair for the present, M. Petipomme +seconding the motion. + +Ralph bit his lip, and something like a scowl passed momentarily +across his face at the overt act of mutiny, which not so long before +he would have quelled with a crack of the whip, and brought the unruly +curs to heel with drooping neck and tail. But the moment was not +opportune for the exercise of authority; his brow grew clear again, if +somewhat pale, his features calm, if a trifle set, and expressionless, +and he sat down in a vacant chair at the lower end of the table. + +The business, however, appeared to have come to a stop; no one spoke, +and each looked at his neighbour, while the vice-president moved +restlessly in his chair, and twiddled his watch chain with uneasy +fingers. He coughed, cleared his voice, lifted his eye-glass to his +eyes, and let it drop, but still he said nothing, while Ralph looked +inquiringly round the board. Several ledgers had been brought in from +the bank and lay upon the table, every one open at the page headed, +"Ralph Herkimer & Son;" and while he waited, a clerk entered with yet +another, containing some further variety of information which he laid +before the chairman, opening it and officiously pointing out the +desired record, then looking up as he turned to withdraw, his eyes +lighted on the president himself, when a guilty flush and a +deprecatory glance betrayed that the information he had been +presenting bore upon the same point as the rest. + +"You appear, gentleman, to be looking into the working of my account," +said Ralph, after a further period of silence; "Pray go on, don't mind +me! You will find it is a profitable account, perhaps the _most_ +profitable in your books. Satisfy yourselves by all means. It is +your right. But permit me to say that the time and the manner are not +well chosen. There is something not altogether friendly, nor quite +above-board, in this way of gratifying your curiosity. Is it +honourable, gentleman, or manly, to watch till you get a man's back +turned before proceeding to overhaul his account?" + +"Strong language, Mr. Herkimer," said several voices at once. + +"Most unwarrantable," muttered Jowler. + +"It is true, gentlemen, and not a bit stronger than the facts +warrant." + +"Indeed, Mr. President," said Petitôt blandly--he was noted for a +courteous benignity which never failed, so long at least as there +remained a chance of the other side's ability to make him regret being +otherwise. After that--well, after those others became too weak for it +to matter, the world took little heed how he behaved, and he acted +accordingly, as pleased him best--brutally, the sufferers called it. +"Indeed, Mr. President, you take up the matter too seriously. The +accident of your absence when the question arose was a mere +coincidence. We are all, I assure you, well aware of the value of your +account." + +"Should think so," muttered Jowler, pleased to find how quickly they +were drifting to the pith of the grievance. "It amounts to half or +two-thirds of the bank's capital already, and it promises to swallow +up the whole before long." + +"Which would not suit you, Jowler," retorted Ralph, sneering +assiduously to conceal his wrath, and perhaps his dismay. "But it +might be well for the country and for the bank itself, that it should +not have any funds to dissipate in the bark business. I say +'dissipate' designedly, gentlemen. I know of four cargoes of cutch and +gambler now on the way for this port, with more to follow. Bark prices +must collapse, and the less we have to do with the article at present, +the better for us. It is well for the country, I consider, that +discouragement should arise to stop the reckless destruction of our +hemlock forests. If Jowler and his like are allowed their way, we +shall not have a hemlock left standing in ten years' time." + +"And how much better off is the bank with its tons of plumbago, which +cannot be brought to market?" retorted Jowler angrily. "The plumbago +paper has been renewed three times already, and the amount increased +without the sanction of the board." + +"Are we not drifting into a wrangle, gentlemen, and wasting time to no +good purpose?" said Mr. Seebright, of the _Journal_. "The bank +settlements are going against us week after week, and the specie +reserve is running down. What are we to do? That is the question." + +"Circulation going down every day," added Petipomme, with an air of +wisdom. + +"And pray, gentlemen, did you ever know it otherwise at this season?" +cried Ralph, eager to score any point an injudicious speaker might put +in his way. "Look into the government returns for last year, look into +them for any year, and you will find the circulation of the country +reaches its lowest points in August and February. It has several weeks +to go on diminishing yet, but it is larger than it was this time last +year. Wait till September, and you will see it go up and increase +steadily till it reaches its highest point in November. The thing is +as regular as the seasons, and no resolution this board can pass will +alter it." + +"All very true, President," said Seebright; "but this drain of the +reserve must be stopped somehow. How do you propose to do it? We must +contract--realize. Where shall we begin to prune?" + +Ralph was silent. He wanted to borrow more, and with the particulars +of the account actually on the table, it seemed best not to excite +ill-will by proposing to impose a reduction on any one else. Jowler +had taken up a share list to cover his chagrin under Ralph's attack; +he now laid it down with a loud "Hillo! St. Euphrase mining shares +down four per cent since yesterday! What's up, President? Things going +badly?" + +"I walked down street with old Mr. Premium this morning," said +Petipomme--"parted from him not half-an-hour ago. He says there's +something up, he could not make out what, but some villager had been +to him, eager to sell out at once, and at any price. The man was very +close and would say nothing, but he was so eager that Premium grew +panicky and was going to unload." + +"The bank has made you an advance, President, on some of that stock," +cried Jowler. "Four per cent off the security at one drop! I call on +you to put up a fresh margin." + +"I scarcely think you will consider that necessary, gentlemen, when I +tell you that, at the meeting held this morning, the directors have +agreed to declare a dividend of five per cent. It will be in all the +papers to-morrow. You will find the announcement on your table, Mr. +Seebright, when you get back to your office, and an advertisement for +to-morrow's issue." + +"Five per cent?" said Petitôt, congratulating himself on not having +joined in the late attempted onslaught. "Is not that unexpected? I +have heard no word of it." + +"It was only decided this morning, and we agreed to declare it at +once, so that _bonâ fide_ shareholders should reap the advantage +rather than mere speculators." + +"And it is not known yet?" asked Petitôt eagerly. "But it _will_ be, +in an hour's time," he added, answering himself. "Gentlemen! I think +there is no other business before the board. I declare the meeting +adjourned to this day next week;" and, seizing his hat, Mr. Petitôt +was gone, and half-way across the street to his broker's before any of +his brethren could have interposed a word, which, however, none of +them seemed wishful to do. Such a rush for hats and general stampede +had never been seen before; the assistant cashier, who wrote the +minutes, found the room deserted, when he laid down his pen, by all +but the president, and the roll of bills, which should have been +shared among the several gentlemen, still before him--an unprecedented +circumstance. + +"What is to be done with this, Mr. Herkimer?" + +"You and I had better share it between us, Briggs," he chuckled. "What +would they say if we did? They have all skipped off to buy St. +Euphrase mining shares, and they will make so much money they will +never miss this--that is, not before the shares are bought. +Afterwards, when they have completed their operation, they will +recollect, and come asking for it. Put it in your desk for the +present, it will not be long till they relieve you of the charge." + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + A CONFIDANTE. + + +The day came for the Misses Stanley's return to the country. Muriel's +classes were over, and the streets grown hot and dusty past endurance. +Life was a burden under the all-pervading glare shot from the vault +overhead, and the two miles breadth of glassy river, the acres on +acres of shining tin-roofs, and the heated face of limestone +pavements. The breeze felt withering like breath from a furnace, +hotter even than the air at rest, and cool was attainable only by +ingenious contrivance, and in twilight darkness. + +"Ah!" said Considine; he had been lingering in town till now, and had +suddenly found out that it was time to take his yearly _villagiatura_ +at St. Euphrase, his plans coinciding with those of his friends so +closely, that when the ladies reached the railway station he was +already on the platform to assist them about tickets and baggage as +well as to join them in the parlour car; which Miss Penelope +considered quite remarkable, but most fortunate and "very nice." "Ah!" +said Considine, raising a window as the train rolled into the country, +"what a different air to breathe! It smells and feels of the country +already." + +"Yes," said Miss Matilda, "I feel myself absorbing new vitality from +the verdure as we pass along. Do the woods not look seductive after +the baking and withering we have suffered of late? One grudges even +the delay of railway speed. What will it not be this afternoon to +sit among the trees, with coolness rustling softly through the +foliage--just to sit and feel one's self alive--with every breath a +new deliciousness, and the sense of rest and freshness making one +happy and new down to the finger-tips. You will find it delightful at +Podevin's to-day, so close by the river. I can imagine you will get +into a boat immediately, and go out in the stream and drift, and smoke +your cigar, I dare say; you gentlemen seem always doing that, though +it must spoil the flavour of a day so exquisite as this, it seems to +me." + +"As Podevin, whose house is full, has fitted me up the room over the +boat-house for my chamber, I imagine I shall have my share of any +coolness stirring; yet it would, I dare say, be pleasant to make a +beginning of the freshness at full strength by getting into a boat. +However, I shall not stay long, and if you will permit me, when the +afternoon heat grows moderate, I will walk up to your house and learn +if you and Miss Stanley are still alive--and my young friend Muriel +also, though indeed, the weather appears to suit her well enough." + +And truly at that moment Muriel was in perfect comfort, sitting a +little apart with an escort of her own--her friend Gerald who had +deserted the cares of business for her sweet company. Not that he +found her difficult of access at other times, for they often met; but +there is a privacy in a public railway carriage when the rumbling of +the wheels drowns conversation for every ear other than the one +addressed, and a safety from intrusion and interruption while the +journey lasts, not easily to be found elsewhere. + +Muriel sat in one corner of a sofa, with Gerald in the other, +listening to his purring, and purring softly back. It may have been +owing to the heat of the day, but their talk seemed less lively than +at other times, and their glances drooped shyly on the ground instead +of seeking and meeting each other's as they were wont. Gerald drew +closer as they talked, and by-and-by his hands secured one of hers, +and held it in possession. He would have slipped his hand behind her +waist, perhaps, if her position in the corner of the sofa had not been +beyond his reach; and as it was, she used some effort to liberate the +imprisoned hand, and regained it at last. Hushing and growing pale the +while in her fear of having become grouped with her companion into a +_tableau_ too interesting to escape notice. And then her eyes rose +shyly to his face, and shining with a light they had not held before, +and her lips parted tremulously to smile, and faltered out words which +were lost in the roar and hubbub of the rattling wheels, and Gerald +could not hear them; but the eyes which had looked in his a moment, +the rosy flushing and the tremulous smile, were proof the unheard +answer was not "no," and he was happy. When the train reached St. +Euphrase Muriel was "engaged," while still it wanted a week of her +sixteenth birthday. + +It is not very remarkable, if, in view of his success, young Gerald +stepped on the platform with something of the victor in his mein--his +head thrown back, and his coat unbuttoned, flapping away from the +expanded chest, while his eyes looked forth on the world at large, +with the broad imperial gaze of a new-crowned conqueror, while Muriel +leaned on his arm perhaps a shade more clingingly than she was aware. +It struck Betsey Bunce, at least, who, according to her custom, was +awaiting the city train, to espy the new arrivals, and pick up any +fragments of news dropped by her acquaintance--it struck Betsey that +summer day, that Gerald was a far finer and handsomer fellow than +theretofore she had thought him. She bowed and waved her hand with +much _empressement_; she even stepped forward to welcome him to St. +Euphrase at that unusual hour; but Gerald did not see her. His head +was in the clouds, and he inhaling that upper ether where swim the +stars and the souls of the most blest, to whom the gods have granted +all their desire. He was dazzled by the brightness of his own +felicity--alas, that the felicity should be as fleeting as its power +to dazzle--and saw little of what passed around him. Only he felt, and +felt only the pressure of a slender hand resting on his arm. And so, +unwittingly, he strode past Betsey Bunce; and Muriel, too, being with +him, and somewhat overcome, looking down, and with her mind disturbed +with new and confusing thoughts, and feelings which, if not so +altogether new, were yet now first acknowledgedly to herself permitted +to harbour there. + +And Betsey believed herself to have been slighted, and her wrath grew +hot against the young man, and her envy greener-eyed against the girl, +who continued to secure so many things which in justice should have +been hers; but having a "spirit," as she considered, she only tossed +her head, and walked forward through the arriving passengers in search +of other acquaintance. + +It was the same train which carried home the directors of the mining +association after their board meeting. Podevin was the first to +alight. He appeared a happier man than when setting out in the +morning. With him was Belmore, who had sunk through the whole gamut +from confidence to despair, and whose barometer of feeling had again +risen to "tranquil." His golden hopes for the future, indeed, had +vanished, but he expected under Stinson's direction to sell out +without loss, and by aid of the village notary to make everything snug +in case of after litigation. Joe Webb alone looked troubled and +oppressed. The dangers to his investment, and of his position as +director, had now for the first time been disclosed to him, and he was +at a loss how to act; and yet to take professional advice seemed to +his scrupulous mind to be a breach of confidence towards his fellow +directors, while to act with them appeared dishonest to the +shareholders and the general public. It was useless to open his mind +to Belmore and Podevin; they were resolved to save themselves at +whatever cost to other people. He felt that he must not breathe a word +among his neighbours, and at home he was a lonely bachelor with only +his faithful pipe to soothe counsel and console him. It was with +something akin to gratitude, therefore, that he received the friendly +greeting of Betsey Bunce. Had his dog been near to lick his hand in +that hour of darkness he would have been thankful; how much more when +human sympathy and goodwill were offered him. + +"You are back from town early to-day, Mr. Joe," cried Betsey, holding +out her hand with demonstrative cordiality. She had felt snubbed +before the eyes of all St. Euphrase by her "cousin Gerald," as she +called him when out of hearing, not having noticed her, and she owed +it to herself, she fancied, to show that she did not care, and had +plenty of other young men to speak to. + +"Yes," said Joe with a sigh, clasping the proffered hand as a drowning +man lays hold on a straw. Anything is good to catch at when one is +sinking. + +"And you look tired," she added with plaintive sympathy. + +"Worried, any way. Those town folks, you know. Miss Betsey, ain't like +us here in the country." + +"Ah! worried. I know the feeling so well; when one does not quite +know, perhaps, what it is one wants, and yet is quite sure that what +they would have is what we don't want. I know it, and town folks are +so selfish." + +It is marvellous how some big broad-shouldered fellow, with a fist of +his own and the will to use it, who ruffles it among his peers and +holds unabated his manly front before odds, opposition, and +misfortune, will wilt and weaken into drivelling self-pity for a few +soft words, spoken, mayhap, in doubtful sincerity, by some +insignificant dot of a woman, and one for whom he feels no more than +friendship. Is it a survival of the habit in childhood of bringing his +pains and troubles to his mother's lap? Or is it that man needs woman +to complete his being?--drawing courage from her sympathy in his hour +of darkness, even as she needs the protection of his strength in hers? +It is a fact, at least, that the bands which knit him in his pride, +soften like wax before her, and bully Bottom lays his honest ass's +head contentedly upon any Titania's knee, smiling in fatuous content +as she twiddles his long ears between her dainty fingers. + +"Town folks are very selfish," said Betsey again. + +"If they were honest one would not mind that. We country folk do the +best we can for ourselves, and would have both hands under, too, every +time, if only we could get it." + +"You are generous, Mr. Joe. I always said it of you." + +"I try to be fair," he answered, looking pleased. + +"And some people don't know what fairness means," rejoined Betsey, +with fervour, and a glance of appreciation into his face. She did not +know what she meant or was speaking about, but her companion did, and +approved her sentiments, which did just as well. She had begun the +conversation merely with a general desire to be pleasant, but now she +was growing interested in his evident depression, and curious to learn +its cause. He was not in love, that seemed certain--love always struck +our tender Betsey as the trouble most natural to a fine young man. He +would not be so ready, surely, to indulge his "dumps," for some other +girl in _her_ company; and if it were herself, there was no ground for +dumps at all; he might have her for the asking, she half suspected, +though she would not demean herself in her own eyes by considering the +point until the gentleman brought it properly under her notice. +Wherefore Miss Betsey went a fishing, and baiting her hook with a +gentle enthusiasm, she spoke again: + +"There's nothing so rare, I think, as fairness. Only the manly men are +ever fair, and women never." + +"I _want_ to do what's fair. Miss Betsey, and I guess I have managed +slick enough so far; but now it's a teaser to know which way to turn. +Is a man bound, think you, to harm himself to save his neighbours?" + +"I guess not, Mr. Webb; leastways, you know well enough they wouldn't +harm themselves to benefit you--not by a good deal, and you know it." + +"But what is a fellow to do? If I hold my tongue and let them walk +into a trap they will be sure to say it was me ensnared them--that I +being a director knew all about it." + +"Director? Mr. Webb. Surely it's not your mining company you are +talking about?" + +Joe looked confused. He had let his cat out of the bag without meaning +it. He had begun by thinking aloud, or rather by letting the oozing of +his thoughts escape into his talk. Then it had occurred to him that +while "naming no names," he might be able to draw a sort of sample +opinion in the abstract, and learn therefrom how his position must +appear in the eyes of others; and here he found himself on the brink +of a full disclosure, with an extremely compromising admission already +past recall, and confided to the doubtful secrecy of a woman--the most +talkative woman, perhaps, in the village. + +"Oh, no. Miss Betsey, you are quite mistaken, I assure you," he +faltered forth, with the shame-faced effrontery of one unused to +deception, and who scarcely expects his falsehood to succeed. + +"No, you don't, Mr. Joe Webb. You don't fool _me_ with your +assurances. I know quite well when a gentleman means what he says. You +may just as well trust me with the whole story. You _know_ you can +depend on my discretion." + +"And you will promise not to say a word to any living soul? And you +will give me your hand on it? Honour bright?" + +"My hand on it, Mr. Webb. Honour bright," and she looked her +winningest up into his face. "Who knew?" she thought, "here she was +giving a first solemn promise to handsome Joe Webb, and sharing a +secret with him, who knew but that she might make him another promise +yet?--and what the purport of that promise might be?" + +"And I may really trust you?" + +"Mr. Webb!" + +"Well! It is something to have any kind of fellow bein' one may let +out one's breath to. I've 'most 'bust, these last few hours, for want +of a soul I could speak to; but now I feel relieved like, and think I +can bear up. But I'll be round and see you. Miss Betsey, and we'll +have a talk about it if ever I feel nigh busting again." In fact, +Betsey's glances had been too deeply laden with expression. She had +forgotten the advice of wise King Solomon, and the wary bird had +descried in time the net so flagrantly spread out within his view. + +"Then it's nothing at present you've been so anxious to confide to me, +Mr. Webb?" cried Betsey just a little tartly. "I wondered at your +precautions, and, really, they frightened me; and I am very glad you +have changed your mind and are going to keep them to yourself. So you +give me back my promise and my 'honour bright?' I can breathe free +again----" "What you told me," she added after a pause, and with just +a suspicion of mischief twinkling under her eyelids, "about your +directorship and the company's going soon to smash, don't count, of +course, for that was before we said 'honour bright.'" + +"How you do run on, Miss Betsey. Of course I hold you to your promise, +and it covers everything we have said since we met. If I do not tell +you a lot, it is only because there isn't a lot to tell. But really +you must not talk about the mining company, or there will be the +d---- to pay. Fact is, old Herkimer has not been acting on the +square." + +"I can believe that," cried Betsey eagerly. Gerald's offence was too +recent to be forgotten or forgiven yet awhile. + +"He made us declare a div-- at the meeting to-day, though he knows +there is nothing to divide, and that most all the metal in the mine +has been dug out already. He expects to get shut of his shares that +way without losing money, and he don't care what becomes of the +concern after that, and he is just using us directors as cats-paws to +save his chestnuts." + +"Quite likely. They are deep scheming men, both father and son. Just +look at Gerald there, and the way he is going on with poor little +Muriel! See how the little fool is hanging to his arm." + +"She's a fine little girl, Miss Muriel Stanley, and I can excuse +anything a fellow does to win her, if only he is good to her +afterwards. You think he's after the aunts' money I guess, Miss +Betsey? That _would_ be mean, but he can't help liking, the sweet +little thing herself all the same." + +"Sweet little humbug! And she isn't a Stanley after all! and not the +Stanleys' niece. She's nobody's child, that I tell you, and nobody's +niece. She was found inside a paper parcel. And as for their money, +it's me and my uncle should get it by right, when they are done with +it, and they won't sleep easy in their graves if they leave it past us +that are their proper flesh and blood; and what's more, I mean to give +them a bit of my mind about it, and that right smartly. I'd after them +at once, but there's that old fool Considine holding the sunshade over +Matilda's head, and we'd best keep family matters at home. Just look +at the old thing! Faugh! It makes me sick to see a woman of her age, +that should be at home making her soul, philandering about the country +with an old dandy like that! Her sunshade lined with rose-coloured +silk and no less, to mend her old complexion--while young girls like +me must go without--and her curls like sausages flapping about +half-way down to her waist. Ha! There they go in at auntie's door to +get a drink of ice-water or something. I'll to them there. Good-bye, +Mr. Webb! You may depend on me, and trust me fully;" and she hastened +away with the "bit of her mind" she had spoken of already on her +tongue tip waiting to be launched. + +The launching was scarcely a success, however, or so Joe Webb +inferred, when, having claimed his horse at the stable, he rode past +the rectory on his homeward way. The Misses Stanley were just then +leaving the house, looking flushed and indignant, the wife following +them to the door with deprecatory looks which changed into dismay as +they departed without a sign of leave-taking, and Betsey in the +background, too crushed and ashamed to be aware even that it was Joe +as he went by. + +Whatever unpleasantness occurred passed harmlessly by Muriel. She was +walking with Gerald down by the river's bank--her very first walk with +an acknowledged lover, for hitherto they had kept up the boy and girl +traditions of their earlier friendship, and these now were discarded +for the first time as the petals fall from the blossom when their work +is done, and they can lend no more assistance to the forming fruit. +She missed the altercation, and her aunts took care that she should +not hear of it. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + FRIENDS IN COUNCIL. + + +It was a fortnight later, it was August, and it was dusk. Having +dined, the men had stepped forth through open windows to smoke upon +their lawns, the ladies, not far off, snuffing the fragrance wafted +through the gloom, or, Canadian-wise, setting out on visitations to +their neighbours' precincts, or receiving uninvited raiders on their +own; the middle-aged to sit and fan and gossip lazily, the young to +sing or even dance, chasing the sultry oppression with active +exercise, as youth alone is privileged to do. + +Jordan had dined, and his shadowy figure would show now and then sharp +against the sky, to be lost momentarily again on the dim background of +surrounding trees. Only the red spark of his cigar was always seen, +travelling back and forth fitfully across the dusky vagueness. Now it +would flash out bright and travel briskly, and then anon it would +dwindle and grow dim in rusty redness, creeping along or even +stationary for a while, starting again into brightness and hurried +movement--signs of pre-occupation, doubt, and suppressed excitement in +the smoker. + +"Ho! Jordan." The hail came suddenly out of the dimness; the light of +another cigar drawing near gradually, like the drowsy flight of a +belated beetle, being the only sign that Jordan was no longer alone. +He started, pulling briskly at his cigar till it glowed and lighted up +not only his own features, but those of Ralph Herkimer, who now stood +before him. + +"Herkimer! Most pleased to see you. Will you--will you come in?" + +"No, I had rather join you here in your stroll and smoke, if you don't +mind," lighting a fresh cigar as he spoke. + +"Well? And are you sorry now you took my advice?" he went on when the +process of lighting up was completed. "The difference between the rise +we brought about and the impending collapse which you foresaw--and +which would inevitably have taken place if your original block of the +stock and Rouget's, which I believe you now hold, had all been offered +at once. Must be a little fortune." + +"Scarcely that, perhaps, but I admit it has turned out a very pretty +thing, and does you the very highest credit as a financial engineer. +But tell me, how long will this boom last?" + +"Till the bubble is pricked, of course--provided the offerings at one +time are not more than can be easily absorbed. You can choke even a +hungry dog by stuffing too big pieces down his throat." + +"Will the price go higher yet?" + +"Naturally, if we restrict the supply." + +"Fact is, I am holding, still. Never _could_ bring myself to sell on a +rising market. I should feel as if I paid every after advance out of +my own pocket. But I mean to begin to-morrow--moderately, that is." + +"Right," said Ralph between two puffs. He had himself "unloaded" a +week before, and had little faith in the future; but it seemed +unnecessary to mention that. + +"And there is no fear of the ugly rumours coming out again? If the men +are seen hanging idle about the tap-rooms, for example, will it not +excite inquiry?--from those blockheads with hammers, for instance, who +are prowling about the neighbourhood, and trying to get at our people +to treat and pump them?" + +"The men speak mostly French, the prowlers English. There is safety in +that. The men are good Catholics, too; M. le Curé recommended many of +them, and they think the English want to tamper with their religion, +so they give them a wide berth." + +"But how do you keep them busy? And how long can you keep it up?" + +"I am getting all who are likely to be troublesome away to Montana, +engaging them for a mining concern, which, if it could be found, would +no doubt employ them. The men cannot get back from Montana before +Fall." + +"Bright idea, that. But there are Podevin and the two others. They +will blab, I fear, as soon as they succeed in selling out." + +"Podevin won't. You made sure of him at the board meeting, when you +told him that if it were known the directors would be indictable for +fraud. Or was it that fool Webb said it? Podevin and Belmore have sold +out, I know, but they are too frightened, both, to say a word. I have +seen them come out of the notary's more than once, and doubt not they +are conveying their property to their respective wives. I pity Belmore +if he does; his wife is Catholic and a devotee, she is sure to leave +it all to the church for the benefit of his heretical soul. The other +fellow is your--I mean our--real danger. He is as obstinate and as +stupid as a pig, and he thinks it would be _wrong_ to save himself, as +the rest are doing, while at the same time he bears us a grudge for +leading him into the scrape. He has been to me in town several times, +but I can make nothing of him, and I fear he is up to some virtuous +devilment or another. The fool has honour enough to fit out a +township, common cad though he be. Wish I had known sooner." + +"Hm! Then I must make haste and get out of the sinking boat." + +"Take care you do not founder the whole thing in your panic. Unload by +degrees--only so much each day, and, if possible, a little less than +is asked for. That will keep the price up, and the quotations of daily +transactions will preserve confidence." + +"I owe you thanks, Ralph, for your suggestions. So far they have been +most valuable. I shall not soon forget how wisely you encouraged me to +hold on. I only wish I could reciprocate your favours; but that is not +to be hoped. You know all the ropes so much better than I do. Take the +will for the deed, old man! and if--by good fortune--if ever----" + +"But you can, my dear Jordan, you really can--and I am glad to know +that your goodwill is equal to the test; though indeed it is nothing I +am asking after all--nothing to cost you anything." + +"Name it," mumbled Jordan with a good deal less effusion than he had +been indulging in the minute before, though still as cordially as the +staccato shock to his nerves would allow. To say truth, he felt not +unlike the sportive mouse, which, in pure lightness of heart, has +nibbled through the thread whose yielding liberates the spring which +catches and holds as in a vice. What wonder that instinctively he +should wriggle to withdraw, the moment he felt himself being held, +even to a position of his own choosing? Bitten by his own teeth, he +would have felt less foolish--less like the stag entangled by his own +antlers in a thicket, to wait the coming of the hunter and his hounds. + +Ralph noted the change in manner and tone; and the humour of it, +causing inward laughter, made the smoke he was inhaling lose its way, +and brought on a fit of coughing. + +"I want you to pay up Gerald's fortune at once," he said at length. +"It wants not much more than a year, you know, to the time fixed. He +is of age, and he is my partner, so we shall both be responsible. I am +Gerald's next heir, too, so it can have no bad consequences for you, +besides being a great convenience to us." + +The tumult in Jordan's circulation had had time to subside, and his +voice had grown even again. It was more mellifluously soothing now +than even its professional wont. "How I wish it had been something +else," he said; "something within the bounds of possibility. It +distresses me to--but----" + +"Quite so, my friend. The usual way of the world. Anything that is not +wanted you would have felt it a privilege to do. Is it not so?--even +to pulling out your eyes, only you know I am not a cannibal and prefer +oysters; so they would be of no use." + +"Really, my dear Ralph, you must not put it in that way, you know. +Indeed, you have no right to say so. Just think----" + +"Oh, I know--quite so--by all means, if you wish it. I know better +than chop arguments with a lawyer. That would be worse than an +altercation with a woman. He is not satisfied, like her, with the +_last_ word, he must have the best of it as well. But the facts +remain." + +"Is that not an admission, my friend, that you know your position will +not bear examination?" + +"Look out for your own position, friend Jordan! I have a presentiment +it would not be impossible to knock that over like a house of cards on +the Stock Exchange to-morrow morning, however easily you might +overthrow me in argument to-night." + +"I used the word 'position' to express your statement of the case, my +dear fellow; I meant nothing offensive." + +"And what sort of statement would you make of your own case if I were +to dismiss all the miners to-morrow open the gates, and let the world +in to see?" + +"Pray do be calm, Ralph, and don't grow excited, I had almost said +violent. You forget that I am only one of two. I can do nothing +alone." + +"I know it; but you can persuade your brother trustee, I believe, as I +cannot. Besides, he will say, like you, that he is one of two; so I +make sure of you before approaching him. Now, what do you say?--My +Canadian interests are in a mess. I have washed my hands of those +mines--I can ruin you, observe, if I like, without hurting myself--I +am already deeply dipped in Pikes Peak and Montanas and I must throw +in all the rest I have to save what is there already. My interests are +across the lines now, and I mean to be there myself also. So you see I +can have no personal interest in sparing you, and I have no doubt that +Webb's fear of a criminal prosecution of the directors will come +true." + +"I am not a director." + +"It would be proved that you attended the meetings and influenced the +board in favour of every irregularity--and there are plenty of +irregularities, I can tell you. The others will insist, you may depend +upon it, on the pleasure of your company with them in the dock; and, +for myself, I don't see why they shouldn't. I imagine that weak chest +of yours will need at least six months to recuperate in Florida--but +there will not be time for you to save your fortune and get away if +you do not listen to reason----" "You force me to speak plainly," he +added, as Jordan stopped short in his walk and dropped heavily upon a +garden seat, deprived of strength to stand upright. His cigar had +dropped from between his teeth, and he sat a mere black shadow in the +dusk till Ralph, pulling his own smouldering spark, into brilliancy, +bent near and saw how sickly pale his visage had become. + +"What say you, Jordan? How are we to arrange?" + +"It will take time to realize and gather in. The accounts, extending +over eighteen years as they do, are voluminous and complicated; it +will take time to make them up. You see it is nearly two years yet +till the time for handing over the trust, so there has appeared to be +no hurry so far; but it will take months to get the thing into shape." + +"I see. And you know that within a week or two I shall be across the +lines, and that it will be a couple of years at least before I shall +care to revisit Canada. Now, really, my friend, do you take me for the +sort of person it is worth while talking such slop to? Hand me the +securities as they are; I am surely as well able to negotiate them as +you can be." + +"I could transfer you those mining shares, of course, if you wished +it. Yes! That will simplify matters; part of them, I mean, the second +part." + +"Mining shares? Come now, that's a rum un. My uncle's estate don't +hold a dollar's worth of them. You forget the transfer books lie in my +office, and I could not have overlooked Considine's name either for +himself or as trustee. Our company is not in his line. He knows too +much and too little for that class of investment. But I see! and it is +what I might have suspected from your sudden rise in the world, only +that I did not think you could have got round Considine--I know _I_ +could not. I admire your management, Jordan. I really do, you must +have finessed very cleverly to nobble old Cerberus like that! A good +slice of the money has passed through your hands, we may infer; and, +of course, as would happen with any one else--I don't blame you, +mind--it has got a little confused and mixed up, as it were, amongst +your own, which is natural; and I do not mind accommodating you as +far as may be. We will take, say, half of your holding--the first +half--and it to be sold before you disturb the rest. We will take it +at par, and give you credit for it. What else will you give us?" + +"Par? Man alive! I bought Rouget's at a premium, and I have been +holding the whole ever so long, with the risk of its falling all +the time. You must take it at the market value, say a hundred and +seventy-six." + +"Whose money is it? By your own admission? And do you not receive a +pension under the will for looking after it? If the price had gone +down, would you have made good the loss?" + +"You have no right to insinuate that I would have done anything +improper. However, I will not yield to so outrageous a demand. No man +in his senses would; especially when you have no more business with it +than the parish priest, for two years to come." + +"You will force me, however unwillingly, to make Gerald file a +petition to have your trusteeship overhauled; with the affidavit I can +make in support the court cannot possibly refuse." + +"I shall have an information lodged against _you_ for swindling before +the petition can be heard. Who will mind your affidavit after that?" + +"Good for you, old man. A stale mate! It does one good to play a match +against you, Jordan; it brightens one's wits. Well now, can we make a +truce? If I do my best to gain you time to realize, and promise to +keep Gerald quiet for the next two years, will you get me that money +out of Considine's hands? How much is it, by-the-way?" + +"Half. We divided the property to avoid the endless consultations, +each agreeing to do his best with half, and trust the other." + +"Well, get Considine to hand over, and you shall be left undisturbed." + +"I don't believe he will do it." + +"Will you try to persuade him?" + +"Yes." + +"Come, then, we will find him at Podevin's, and have it out before we +sleep." + +"He is not there. I saw him walk past as I sat down to dinner; gone to +Miss Stanley's, I fancy, as usual." + +"He will be back before long, now; let us go down and wait." + +"Better wait here, there are always inquisitive loafers around there. +Come in and sit down, the moon is rising. He will not leave his +friends till it is high enough to light him home." + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + MOONLIGHT AND SHADOW. + + +Considine retired early to his chamber by the river-side. The moon was +up and emerging in lucent clearness from the bands of dimming haze +which joined the transparent heaven to the grosser earth. There was no +wind, only a stealing deliciousness on the sweet night air, lulled by +faint whispering among the aspen leaves hard by, and the lapping of +the waters round the boat-house. It was far too good a time to waste +in the unconsciousness of sleep: merely to exist and feel was tranquil +joy. He extinguished his lamp, threw off his coat, and lighting a +pipe, sat by the open window, and puffed and dreamed. + +Swiftly the stream swept by beneath the casement, each swirling eddy +touched with a ring of moonlight, and wavy gleaming lines threading +the dusky current in its course, showing the volume and the swiftness +and the might--like time, like life, like fate. And yet it was not +gloomy. The flickering lustre brightened as the moon rose higher, and +Considine's eye rested meditatively upon the scene. The river, it +seemed to him, was not unlike the passing of his own existence, with +something cold and something solitary in it, issuing from one +obscurity, and hurrying onward to another--nothing but a passing, and +yet not all a cheerless one. + +A gentle influence, it seemed to him, was shining just then on _his_ +life also, one as pure and good as the beams upon the passing tide, +but like that, far off, and cool, and unapproachable. The swellings of +the current seemed to leap and glance up, longing and responsive, but +the Lady Moon smiled back still in the same cool gentle brightness, +coming never the nearer, however the waves might flicker and burn in +impotent desire and longing. Matilda, too, was very far away. The +sense of yearning to be near her had long been in his soul; it had +germinated and grown so gradually that he had not known its presence, +till at length in its spreading it grew into his thought, and he knew +that he desired. + +Yet to disturb the pleasant present by a word seemed far too +hazardous--too like hurling a stone into the stream and breaking up +the radiance. Better, perhaps, be content to bear in silence the cool +reflection in his bosom, than, in leaping to catch the reality, lose +even the shadow. When the pulses sober down to the steady task of +living--when the turbulence, the cascades, and rainbows of the upper +reaches of life are past, and the even stream has entered on the level +country of middle age, love grows less confident and bold even in +those better natures which alone retain the capacity of loving. +Familiarity with disappointment makes man less willing to tempt his +fate, and he clings more eagerly to such good as the gods vouchsafe, +knowing its rarity and his own weakness to hold fast. "Better enjoy +the friendship," thought Considine, "than tamper with and disturb it +by futile endeavours to warm it into love;" and he drew a long breath; +and somehow the air seemed to have grown dim, though in truth it was +only a film of cloud stealing athwart the moon. + +He rose and stretched himself, and yawned, and concluded that now it +was time to turn in, when a tap at the door of his chamber surprised +him. + +"Who is there? Ha! Jordan? Glad to see you. And Herkimer! Let me light +the lamp. How fortunate I had not gone to bed. Oh, no apology! Should +have been sorry to miss you both. Smoking I see. So am I. Brandy and +water? Bless my soul, the ice has nearly all melted. Enough? Glad of +that--or here is soda if you prefer. Splendid night, is it not?" and +so on. His visitors' flow of talk seemed blocked in a strange way for +persons who had taken the trouble to visit him so late. He jerked out +his disjointed sentences in answer to nods and monosyllables, doing +his best to fulfil the rites of hospitality under difficulties. + +Smoke, brightened by brandy and soda, however, had its perfect work at +last. It dispensed, for one thing, with talk for talking sake, till +its own soothing and clarifying influence had time to act; for is not +the cloud blown by a fellow-smoker companionable and sufficient +without a word? Then Jordan, clearing his voice with a preliminary +cough, began: + +"You are surprised, Considine, to see us at this hour; but Herkimer +thought it our only chance of finding you alone. You popular bachelors +are so run after. Fact is, Herkimer says that it would be of advantage +to them to have young Gerald's fortune paid up at once, instead of +waiting for the short remainder of the twenty years to run out. After +talking it over, I am free to confess that much may be said in favour +of his view; and, indeed, he has quite brought me round, so I agreed +to come with him and assure you of my willingness to join you in +acceding. Young Gerald, you will remember, is of age now, and can +legally confirm his father's demand. They are partners in business, +and nearest of kin to each other, and can give us a full and complete +acquittance of our responsibilities, which, speaking for myself, I +shall be thankful to be rid of; for candidly I am not as young as I +have been, and I grow lazy, I suppose, as well as fat, and I find my +own concerns require all the attention I have to bestow. It has been a +long and an onerous trust, and I dare say that, like myself, you will +not be sorry to be rid of it." + +"I need scarcely say," observed Ralph, "that Gerald sees the +importance to our affairs of winding up the trust at once, as strongly +as I do. He has no desire, though, that the trustees should be +deprived of their commission for management before the expiration of +the twenty years. On the contrary, he appreciates their services so +highly that it is his wish to make the allowance permanent, by +granting them a capital sum sufficient to represent at eight per cent +their emolument from the property." + +When Jordan began to speak Considine had set down his pipe and lay +back in his chair, his left foot across his right knee, stroking it +with his hand, while he fixed his eyes upon the speaker. When Ralph +began, an incipient frown hovered about his eyebrows, the blood rose +hotly to his forehead as the speaker proceeded, and he sat bolt +upright, with fingers clenched and lips compressed, ere the conclusion +was reached; when he answered in a voice of suppressed indignation: + +"I am humiliated, Mr. Herkimer, that you should have felt at liberty +to speak as you have done. Your words might be taken to imply an +insinuation against Jordan's probity and my own, for which I am +certain that neither I nor he have given occasion. Take back what you +have said, or I, for one, must decline to say a word upon the subject +of your demand." + +"My dear general!" cried Ralph in amazement, not untouched with scorn +for the "canting old prig" who could pretend that the mode of earning +a dollar made any difference in its value. "You have completely +misunderstood me, I do assure you. No idea could have been farther +from my mind, or indeed from the mind of any one who knows as I do +your delicate sense of honour. I really must protest against your +entertaining so erroneous an impression; and it seems hard that I +should be prevented from expressing my boy's sense, and my own, of +your assiduous attention to our interests." + +"That will be time enough after you know what we have done," answered +Considine dryly. "At present you know nothing, nor can, till the +accounts of the estate have been made up, and submitted to your +examination. However, as you agree to take back the promise of a +consideration for violating the trust reposed in us, no more need be +said." + +"Violating the trust!" remonstrated Jordan. "And who, pray, my dear +Considine, uses unguarded language now?" + +"Not I. Remember the terms of the will, if you please, Mr. Jordan." + +"Technically, my dear sir, and verbally, I will not dispute your +accuracy; but more than that is due to the intentions of a testator, +from friends, and among friends." + +"You think you know Gerald's intentions better than he did himself, +then? For my part, I have thought the will a model of clearness." + +"Think of the circumstances, general--the present circumstances--and +all that has occurred since the will was made." + +"Nothing has occurred for which the will did not provide." + +"Excuse me, general. Gerald has come of age, he has gone into +business, he sees a use to which he can turn his inheritance. What +right have _we_ to balk him, and keep him out of his own?" + +"I deny that it is his own, or can be, till the time appointed has +arrived." + +"Literally speaking, of course, your position cannot be gainsaid; but +consider the circumstances, as I say. When the will was made, there +was every chance that quite another person would inherit. That person +would have received the money before reaching majority. It seems +therefore unfair, and contrary to the testator's wish, that Gerald +should have to wait." + +"I don't see it. What if that other should appear and claim the +inheritance?" + +"Is it likely?" + +"It is possible. Again, Gerald may die within the next +year-and-a-half. We should be personally liable then to the heirs." + +"His father is one of them, his three aunts are the others--all our +friends of long standing. From what you know of them, you can have no +misgiving as to our old friend Ralph's doing what is right by those +ladies. Had the testator been alive he could not but have been glad to +confide them to the care of so good a fellow as his nephew Ralph." + +"That is just where I must beg to differ. I knew old Gerald most +intimately, and I have the best ground for being sure that he would +not." + +"There it is, Considine! You have always had a kind of grudge against +me. You know you have," said Ralph. + +"Not at all, sir. Search your memory, and I defy you to produce one +token of ill-will. Did I not prove myself a useful friend at Natchez?" + +"Never mind Natchez," growled Ralph sulkily. + +"Did we not do business together for years after the war?--business by +which _you_ profited as much as I did? Have I ever made use of an +unfriendly or disrespectful word in your presence?" + +"You have thought and looked them; and you know it." + +"Men are not held responsible for thoughts and looks. They cannot help +them. But let us close all this at once. It is contrary to the letter +of the will to do as you propose, gentlemen, and I will not take the +responsibility. I believe, too, it will be for the young man's own +interest that he should come into possession later, when his hands may +be less trammelled by business engagements." + +It was useless to say more. The schemers speedily took their leave, +Ralph growling and muttering under his breath about pig-headed +ramrods, while Jordan reflected pensively what an impracticable old +Spartan he would have to reckon with, if ever his peculiar method of +trusteeship should come up for discussion. "Not a business man," he +muttered to himself. "Emphatically not!" + +"If he were to die now, would not the whole be in your hands?" asked +Ralph. + +"Undoubtedly. Why?" + +"It just struck me, when we were up there, and he was holding forth by +the open window--and the river outside so swift and deep." + +Jordan started. + +"By G-- I could have pushed him out, and there would have been an end. +But you're chicken-hearted, Jordan. You could not be counted on to +keep quiet." + +"I would rather not be present at such a transaction, certainly," and +Jordan felt a creeping run up his spine. What a desperate fellow the +man must be! He must speak him fair and keep out of his clutches. +Considine was impracticable, he thought again, and Ralph was violent. +If the two came in collision, what loss would it be to him? Either of +them might some day become troublesome. The thought shot through his +mind, and the sickly faintness, bred of suggested murder, tingled into +a glee of terrified exultation, which made him tremble, and the very +teeth rattle in his jaw. + +"It would be all right? Would it not?" asked Ralph. + +"Ye--ye--yes. But really, my dear friend, is it necessary to take me +into your confidence? Considine bathes in the river every morning, +by-the-way--you may count on my eagerness to forward your views--in +any--contingency--but----" + +"Quite so, Jordan. I'm to play cat, am I, to your monkey, for the +chestnuts? Very well. I won't compromise you. You weren't born to be +hanged--a deal more likely to die a sneak-thief's death in a +penitentiary hospital! Bathes every morning, does he, in the river? +Good-night. Sound sleep and pleasant dreams." + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + MURDER. + + +It was a summer morning, between six and seven. The last thread of +mist has melted in the warming air, air suffused with sunshine and +crisp with a lingering freshness from the night; the banks all dewy, +and the river asparkle in the slanting light. + +Considine stepped into a skiff in the boat-house beneath his chamber, +and shot out into the stream to take his morning plunge. Then +lingeringly snuffing the sweet cool air and surveying the upward +moving banks as he drifted down, with fingers idling among the +intricacies of buttons, and talking aloud, he leisurely undressed +himself for his swim: + +"Can that be the glitter of a gunbarrel in the sun? It is--reminds one +of the sharpshooters on the Rappahannock river during the war. What +can the fellow be skulking for, like that, among the bushes? He +remembers it's the close season for duck perhaps; but he might take +courage, and stand boldly forth this morning; there is not one on the +river to pop at, as far as I can see. I must give the Game Preserving +Association a hint when I go to town, though. Well! here goes. +One--two--three!" He dived into the river, and the bracing coolness +licked his languid limbs into a new feeling of firmness and strength. + +Regaining the surface, and shaking his eyes clear of the dripping +hair, he turned to survey his sportsman, now standing full in view. + +"Ralph Herkimer!--and taking aim!--last night--I understand. My +God!--if he aims straight--I'm done for." + +The skiff had drifted on in front during his gambols, and he now +struck out with all his might to gain its side and interpose it +between himself and danger; but he never reached it. A flash and a +puff of smoke upon the shore, a crack, and a stinging sensation in the +shoulder, paralyzing the arm, and he went under water. Rising +presently, he struck out anew, straining every sinew to overtake the +boat, and almost reaching it, when he lifted the sound arm to lay +hold--lifted it too soon. It fell short, fell back on the water, and +he plunged headforemost to the bottom. His head may have struck upon a +sunken rock, or--or anything. He struggled, feeling himself drowning, +and then he grew drowsy, his consciousness grew vague and dreamlike, +and then there was an end. The current swept onward undisturbed, and +the empty boat drifted down stream towards the sedgy islands, where +the river took a turn, and was lost from view. + +Ralph Herkimer stood upon the shore watching with an intentness which +left him deaf and impervious to every other impression. The rifle had +slipped from his shoulder, the butt rested on the ground, and a thread +of smoke still crept out from the barrel. His hand supported it +mechanically. His perceptions were out upon the river. The victim was +hit, he saw so much, and when he sank, Ralph drew a breath of infinite +relief between his tight-set teeth; but still he could not turn away +his eyes. + +The head emerged above the tide again. What?--and he was wounded?--and +yet about to escape!--and it would be known that it was he--Ralph--who +had fired. He must not let him escape--and yet, to fire again? The +first shot, being unlooked for, would pass unnoticed; the next, all +ears along the river being now aroused, would surely be observed. He +clutched the rifle, with one barrel still to fire, and watched the +swimmer. How heavily he floundered through the water, yet with what +desperate force; and, really, he was gaining on the boat. If he +should reach it the deed would be out--everything known--and it would +then be too late to shoot. A boat with a corpse--an empty boat, with +blood-stains, would be enough to set the law and the detectives to +work. He lifted the gun, but his heart beat far too wildly to take +aim. His eyes were clouded, his hands shook; while out in the stream +the swimmer could be seen in frantic effort struggling along and +gaining on the boat. + +And now it seems to Ralph there is no choice. He _must_ fire again, or +the swimmer will gain the boat, and everything be known. Why should +his hand tremble now? When did he ever fail to knock a squirrel from +the tree? Has he not shot a bear in his time? Is not the danger of +letting this man escape worse than any mischief the bear could have +done him? and yet---- + +Ha! The swimmer rises in the water, throwing out his arm as though to +grasp the boat. It is beyond his reach. He falls forward in the tide +and disappears. A foot is seen above the water for an instant, and is +gone. The boat drifts onward all alone. The gun has not gone off, and +Ralph sinks on the bank, panting and weak in the revulsion of +excitement. His eyes follow the drifting boat and watch the even +glassy flowing in its wake, but the waters part not asunder any more. +No head emerges panting and struggling to disturb the mirrored lustre +reflected from the morning clouds. The thing is done. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + NEMESIS. + + +Ralph Herkimer was late for breakfast. He had been out with his gun; +for Gerald, setting out to catch an early train for town, came +on him stepping from the shrubbery to gain the verandah and his own +dressing-room window--met him right in the face, to his own no small +surprise, and not, apparently, to the satisfaction of his parent. + +"Ducks! Father? Ain't you three weeks ahead of time?" + +"Sparrows! my son. We shall not have a black cherry left, for those +blasted English sparrows." + +"And you took the rifle? That would have been putting a big blast with +a vengeance into one of their little persons. Head, claws, feathers, +would have been blown to the four winds. The rest would be nowhere." + +"Humph," grunted Ralph in surly wise, entering his open window without +further parley. + +"Old man must be out of sorts this morning," said the son, proceeding +on his way. "Never saw him so grumpy of a morning before. And to take +a rifle to the sparrows! He must have gone out half awake--taken it up +without noticing, and been ashamed at being seen--stolen back, no +doubt, before Solomon Sprout would arrive with his spade and barrow. +Solomon isn't an early bird by any means. I suppose no gardener is. +Has the whole day before him to potter about the place. Solomon would +have laughed at the rifle, and told us about blowing Sepoys away from +the cannon's mouth when he was soldiering in 'Indy.'" + +Ralph was very late for breakfast. He had rung for his man, and sent +him for sherry and bitters, and then dismissed him, peremptorily +refusing to be shaved, or to be bothered in any way. + +Nine o'clock. Mrs. Martha sat by her coffeepot, but her spouse did not +appear. She rang for Joseph, and inquired for his master, but he could +only say that he had rung for sherry and bitters, refused to be +shaved, and ordered him out of the room. + +"He's out of sorts," soliloquized Mrs. Martha. "Smoked too many cigars +with Jordan last night, that's what's the matter! What fools the men +are! Making themselves sick with nasty tobacco, just for manners to +one another! I'm sure they don't really like it. I've known the time +when Ralph would sit the whole evening with me and Gerald--Gerald was +a baby then--and never a cigar. Just a few peaches before going to +bed, and a Boston cracker. Heigh-ho! I was young then, to be sure, and +better looking, but I don't suppose that signifies to Ralph. I am sure +I like _him_ as well, and think him as fine a man as ever I did; and +why would he not think the same of me? It's just that eternal +_business!_ The men are that dead set on it they think of nothing +else, and they make believe to like tobacco to be with one another, +and keep the women away, that they may talk business. The weary, weary +business! Whatever good has it done us? The richer we get, the harder +Ralph seems to work, and the less I see of him. But I'll keep him at +home to-day, anyhow. See if I don't." + +With a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, she hastened to her +husband's room. + +"Well, Ralph? Still up? I fancied you must have lain down again. Drink +your coffee. It will do you good. Dear me! How pale and limp you +look." + +"Nonsense! I'm all right." + +"Not you. You must not think of going to town to-day. We'll hang a +hammock on the shady side of the house and you can swing there. The +river view feels cool, and there always comes a breeze up from the +water. Joseph!" + +"Bid him hang the hammock in the front of the house, Martha. It amuses +one to see who comes and goes. Yes; I shall stay at home with you +to-day. I don't feel up to much--yesterday's heat, I suppose. Bid him +hang the hammock up in front." + +"There's no shade worth speaking of on that side till the afternoon. +You'll broil yourself with the glare off the flower beds. The west +verandah is the place at this hour, and there's the pleasant outlook +over the river." + +"River be d----d. It makes me giddy to look at it this morning. My +head seems all aswim." + +"Bilious--the brandy and cigars last night. You never _could_ stand +much of that, Ralph. It's not for you! Leave it to the dull fellows +who want brightening. You have too many nerves to agree with +stimulants in quantity." + +"Don't preach, Martha, my good soul. My head is splitting. Open the +window wider, and close the blinds. Now leave me, please; I think I +could sleep. Send Joseph with the brandy and some soda-water and ice." + +"A hair of the dog that bit you, eh? My poor old man. But I think you +would be better without it," and she laid her cool hand on his +forehead as he lay. + +It was the touch that of all things soothed and softened him the most. +In the hurry of life and the scramble for its prizes he had long +outgrown the early transports of the honeymoon, real though they had +been at the time--as real as it was in his nature to experience. The +light of her eye had less power to kindle a response within him; +it shone more dimly, doubtless, than of old, and his receptive +organ--heart, call it?--had toughened with the years, and was too +occupied with greed to hold much else. Her bright and sensible talk, +grown familiar, had ceased to interest; but the touch of that cool, +soft, firm, and sympathetic hand upon his brow, had still the old +power to soothe and charm away pain and care. She was so true, and +strong, and faithful; and a healing virtue dwelt for him in her +touch--the one truly good and holy nature he had ever believed in. And +she believed so thoroughly in him--the only one, perhaps, who did, in +all the world--except their boy--and he had only learnt the faith from +_her_. + +She believed in him, and she was good and true. His brow revelled in +the cool, soft, firm touch. He could have pressed it as a dog will rub +against his mistress's caressing palm, but that he was ashamed of the +one still lingering softness in his nature. Remembering the +chicaneries of his money-making career, how glad he was she did not +know them; and yet he felt a rogue in gaining this testimony of her +faith, more than in all the swervings from uprightness he had ever +been guilty of. And the morning's work. For the fraction of an instant +it had been less present with him in the luxury of that caress. What +would she think of that, if ever she came to know? He guessed the +horror she would feel, though, strictly speaking, he felt no horror in +himself. Would he ever come to feel any? he wondered. It was merely a +dull, stupid consciousness as yet that he was not as other men; that +they would none of him if they but knew; that he was separate from the +rest of his kind. And she? Her hand appeared to burn him at the +thought. He felt spattered and sticky with the dead man's blood, and +it was soiling her clean pure hand. If she knew it, she would renounce +him. Shrinkingly he turned his head beneath her touch, and the gentle +wife, pained at perceiving her caress grow irksome, stole silently +from the room. + +"Alas! How they had been drifting apart through all the years!" +thought Martha. "The world had come between, a broadening wedge +pressing them ever more and more asunder. Ralph had never been unkind, +but how slowly, yet steadily, he had been growing not to care. He had +so many other things to think on." She, who sat at home with her +thoughts, and still cherished the old fancies of her girlhood, grew +hungry at the heart with the old hunger for a perfect love; and the +food had grown sparer and slighter while her mind and soul had been +waxing with the years--for a woman's heart need not wither with her +complexion--and now, when she sought sign of love, what got she? A +roll of bank bills--a handful of Dead Sea fruit--or costly trinkets +which had no value now that the eyes she would have pleased did not +care to look. Still, until now, he had submitted to her caress; she +had even pleased herself by fancying that he liked it, he had +submitted always so calmly. Now he had shrunk from her--turned away +his head. "Alas! she was growing old," she thought, "he had ceased to +care for her save as his housekeeper and Gerald's mother. How hard the +men were, and utterly selfish!" She wiped her eyes a little, and went +about her morning occupations. At least he should never know that she +had suffered this wound. He should never know that she had observed a +change. But never again should he have the opportunity to spurn. She +would give him his way. + +Ralph spent his morning in a semi-invalid fashion strange to one of +his habits. "What was the matter with him?" he asked himself, "and +what was he afraid of?" To both queries he answered positively +"nothing." Yet the oppression on his spirits would not lift, and there +was a tremor or dismay at his heart which would not be calmed or +reassured. Why would not the man roll over and have done, and let +there be an end, as there was with the squirrel and the bear he +recollected? + +Of moral sense Ralph may be said to have had as little as any one +living in the civilized state. He certainly had not enough to trouble +sleep or digestion, and might have been warranted impervious to +remorse. With little benevolence, and without imagination, he was +insensible to pain or misery beyond the circumference of his own +cherished hide, as had been shown by his pleasure in the torture and +ill-usage of his uncle's slaves. He had even prided himself on being +proof to such phantasies as limit other men in working out their will; +and if not brave, he had at least the judgment which reduces danger to +its true dimensions. He surveyed his position now, The probabilities +were in his favour. Who could have seen him? Who suspect him? It was +unlikely at that hour that any one had, seeing he had fired but once. +In his position nobody would suspect him, even if he had been seen and +were accused. He need only say he had seen a bird on the water, and, +having the gun in his hand, after frightening the sparrows from his +cherry trees hard by, he had let fly. Jordan could testify to his +spending the previous evening amicably with the deceased, and no one +could suggest a reason for the deed. Possibly, too, the body being in +mid-stream would be carried down. Once in the St. Laurence it was safe +to be carried over the Lachine Rapids, or rendered unrecognizable by +mere lapse of time. Danger, he told himself, there was none, and yet +the gloom upon his spirits would not lift. Not all the brandy and soda +he could swallow availed to cheer him. + +There is a social atmosphere in which we live, a subtile sense of the +general sentiment of our fellows, which no obtuseness of the nerves, +no clearness of the understanding, can be wholly proof against. We +breathe it, and live in it, and are of it, exceptional endowment +counting for but little in opposition. The sanctity of human life, and +the solidarity of each member with the rest of the community as far as +mere existence goes, are sentiments so derived--foregone conclusions +which nobody disputes, and nobody finds it necessary to assert. They +go without saying, and are in the basis of our notions. And now, as a +murderer, Ralph felt himself in the position of a lurking wolf, liable +to be found out at any moment, and hooted from the company of men. He +was already of a different kind from his fellows--a man apart and +outside of human sympathy. If it were known, whom would he have to +depend on? Would not his closest intimates be ready to assist the +sheriff in bringing him to punishment? The loneliness weighed on him. +Brandy would not lighten it. The rush of that detestable river was in +his ears, and would not be expelled, nor the swift glassy sweeping of +the tide be obliterated from his view, use his eyes or close them as +he might. + +"Let me take you for a drive, Martha," he called out at last. "A long +drive in the sun and wind, I think, will do me good." + + +That drive was not a happy experience for the unfortunate horse. Urged +to his utmost speed, over endless miles of dusty way, in the heat and +glare of an August afternoon, Ralph suffered him not to flag, though +his sides were wet with foam and his ears drooped with fatigue. +Heedless of all else, Ralph strove to escape or outstrip the dull +oppression that had fallen on his spirit, the dismay which, like a +shadow, stood by his shoulder and at his ear, whispering in the +rushing river's voice, and pointing him to the shimmer of waters +closing on the swimmer's head, turn his eyes whithersoever he might. +Martha sat pensively and silent by his side. In his miserable +pre-occupation he forgot her presence, and spoke to her not a word, +bent on urging the horse forward, in feverish merciless impatience. + +"Ralph!" Martha cried at last in genuine alarm. She had known him in +feverish moods before, which violent motion and exertion had been able +to relieve, but she never before had seen him act and look as now. She +feared for his sanity, and kept silence while she could, trusting to +his out-wearing the fit; but in time it seemed to her that their lives +were in danger, they were liable to be thrown out at any moment, and +succour was miles away. "Ralph!" and she laid her hand on his sleeve. +"Where are you going? Where do you want to take us? You will break +down the horse and throw us out upon the road, if you do not mind. +Look at him!--he seems fit to drop." + +Ralph started, and but for his wife the reins would have slipped from +his hand. He was like one awakened from a horrid dream, roused to what +is going on around him. He checked the horse, brought him to a walk, +and shortly stopped. The relief he experienced at the moment he was +disturbed was inexpressible, he could have laughed and babbled with +delight; but then, too quickly, he recollected. There was something to +conceal as well as to forget; he must guard his every word and +movement. By-and-by unheeded incidents might be re-called, and pieced +together into a web of circumstantial evidence from which it would be +impossible to escape. He must command himself. + +"It's the heat, Martha, the heat. My head has been turning round all +day. Wonder if I can have had a slight sunstroke? It was well you +spoke; I must have been asleep--sleeping with my eyes open, and +driving like mad. Poor Catchfly! I've nearly killed him. What will +Gerald say to me for ruining his nag? Too bad! Really I did not know +what I was doing. You should have spoken an hour ago, Martha." + +"How could I, Ralph? You have not spoken a word since we came out. I +did not know what might be the matter. It was only when Catchfly began +to look as if he must drop, and the road got stony, and I saw the +gravel pits by the wayside, that I began to fear for our necks and +spoke. Where are you going? Where are we?" + +"I do not know where we are. As to where I am going, it can only be +_back again_, if we can find the way." + +"We must 'light then, and give the poor beast an hour or two's rest, +at any rate. See how used up he is! It will be no wonder if he goes +lame; and see, he has lost a shoe!" + +"We must get out of this sun-beaten road, at any rate, into the shade. +There is a grove by the road-side, a mile on the way back. See it? A +sugar-bush[1] it looks like from here. There must be a homestead not +far from it. We may hire a fresh horse there, perhaps, and let them +bring home Catchfly to-morrow." + +In time the sugar-bush was reached, and by-and-by, the farmer's house. +The way seemed long, they traversed it so slowly, for Catchfly fell +lame as he began to cool; and they had to alight and lead him ere the +end. + +In consideration of money paid, the farmer complied with their wishes. +Catchfly was liberated from the shafts, and another horse took his +place--a horse which had toiled all day in the turnip field, and at +his best was not remarkable for speed. They were condemned to sit up +helplessly behind, while this patient beast trudged wearily along the +road. The day waned into twilight, and Martha's patience died out with +the light. + +"Say! Ralph, you can go home and have your dinner. I've had enough of +buggy-riding for one day. Let me out here, at Miss Stanley's gate, +she'll give me a cup of tea. After dinner you can send up Gerald to +bring me home." + +"I don't feel hungry either," answered Ralph. "It will be dull without +you. I'll go in, too, and bring you home myself by-and-by." + +The ladies were sitting in the dusk without candles. Penelope drowsed +over some knitting by the window, while Matilda and Muriel played old +duets from memory; the former seemingly without much interest or +attention, though she still kept on playing, notwithstanding Muriel's +frequent exclamations that she had gone astray. The window was +darkened for an instant, but the music still went on, hurrying just a +little, perhaps, to reach its close. It was only a lady who had come +and sat down by Penelope, speaking softly, as if unwilling to +interrupt. And then, through the other window there entered a man, the +dark outline of whose figure alone was seen against the dimly-lighted +garden, and the music ceased, for Matilda had risen. + +"Mr. Considine--at last. And we have been looking for you since two +o'clock. The horses harnessed, lunch baskets packed, everything ready. +What an apology you have got to make us! I really do not think +Penelope can bring herself to forgive you, whatever you say." + +Ralph gasped and started, stopped short, looked wildly behind him, and +catching hold of a chair to steady himself, dropped into it in a +momentary palsy of fright. + +"Mr. Herkimer!" Matilda corrected herself, "What a ridiculous +mistake!" and she coloured, perhaps, but it was growing dark, and no +inquisitive eye was near. "You seem quite faint with the heat. Muriel, +get him some wine and water. And Martha! I did not observe you come +in. Mr. Herkimer seems quite poorly." + +"He has been out of sorts all day. Biliousness and the heat combined. +No! You did not observe _me_. It was impossible to mistake _my_ shadow +for Considine's." + +Ralph started and stamped his foot. That man's name again; and _he_ +striving so strenuously to forget! + +"Are you worse? Ralph," asked Martha, noticing his movement. "I +wonder, Matilda, you should mistake Ralph for Considine. They are both +men, that is all the resemblance I can see between them." And Martha +smiled. + +"We expected Mr. Considine, that is all. We have been looking for him +since two o'clock. He has not come, and he has not sent. I never knew +him serve us so before. He is so very particular in general." + +"I should think so. Depend upon it there is some good reason, or a +message has miscarried." + +Ralph writhed. Why _would_ they speak of the man? It seemed as if they +could speak of no one else. And yet they did not know, and they must +not know. Nobody must know; and he must exert a vigorous control upon +himself. How was it that control should be needed at all? What +weakness was this that had fallen on him? He did not understand it. +About a man already dead--done with; non-existent; wiped like a cipher +from a slate--vanished and disappeared? + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + RESCUE. + + +The wooded islands which closed the river view from St. Euphrase, shut +out from sight the homestead of Farmer Belmore lower down the stream. +Only the unreclaimed outskirts of his land could be seen from the +village, repeating the shaggy bush of the islands upon the farther +shore, and carrying it backward and upward to the sky line. A dense +umbrageous bush it was, containing much choice timber, a resort of +game, and also, in the warm weather, of tramps, at times, and +specimens of the rougher dwellers in the city, who sought in its leafy +recesses temporary change of abode, to the loss of neighbouring +gardens and hen-roosts. The farmer, however, was safe while the +depredators dwelt upon his land, by tacit understanding; and therefore +he made a point of closing his eyes, and never was cognizant of their +presence. + +At this moment a gang of gypsies[2] were encamped in Belmore's bush. +Their waggons, tents, and children had lain there for a week or two, +while the men scoured the surrounding country, selling horses, and +picking them up, the screws in honest trade, the others as might +happen: for strays were certainly not unfrequent about the time of +their visits, though none were ever traced into their hands, which is +not remarkable, as who would look for a Canadian colt in New York +State, or a New York one in Ohio or Kentucky? + +These people, like other European products transported to America, +have thriven luxuriantly. They have ceased to be tinkers, though +fortune-telling is still practised by the women; their donkeys have +been exchanged for waggons and horses, and they traverse the settled +States from the Gulf of Mexico to the St. Lawrence, following the warm +weather northward, as the red-birds and wild canaries do, and +returning South again when summer is over, in time to avoid the cold. +Their native love of wandering finds a wider range in their new +country, and they are comparatively wealthy, though still, as ever, +they live in the open air and apart from their fellow men. + +The morning fires were alight in the gypsy camp near the river bank. +The meal was over, but the children and the dogs still brawled and +scrambled for the scraps. The women, and such young men as were not +away, had dispersed themselves along the woody banks to fish or bathe; +and old Jess, the mother of the gang, sat smoking her corn-cob pipe +upon a fallen pine which stretched far out, dabbing its humbled +plumage in the current, and raising murmurs for its downfall in the +lapping of the water among its boughs. Jess sat and smoked in the +pleasant morning air, so full of warmth and sunshine and gentle sound, +watching the smoke-rings vanish into air and thinking the passive +unconscious thoughts of physical well-being, the thoughts which want +no words because they call for no expression. The ox knows them, +ruminating in his meadow; and mankind, innocent of printed lore, and +under no stress to act or say, must know them too, in their harmonious +vagueness, bringing the luxury and refreshment of perfect sleep, +without the diminishment of sleep's unconsciousness. + +The even movement of the glancing water called up in a day-dream the +images of bygone things--her childhood and youth in England, her +voyage across the sea, her husband and her sons; and then her +husband's death, as he was fording Licken River in a freshet, riding +an unruly horse. The current before her seemed to swell and darken and +grow turbid as she recalled the affrighted beast plunging and +floundering through the swirling flood, swerve suddenly aside, losing +his footing, and roll over, disappearing in a vortex, and by-and-by +emerge alone and struggle up the bank. It was a long time since it all +had happened; the very recollection had ceased to be present in her +daily life, with its cares and enjoyments so completely of the +present--the affairs of her numerous descendants and their hangers-on, +over whom she would fain retain authority as much as might be; and its +equivalent, the money, in her own hands. + +This morning it felt different, the long ago seemed more actual than +the present as she sat and smoked, her grizzled hair hanging in wisps +upon her shoulders, and her sun-bonnet of yellow gingham pushed back +upon her head. A something in the water, surging up through the +surface and sinking again, leaving rings upon the current coming down, +caught her eye as she sat gazing up stream. It might only be a log, +but yet, how it carried back her thoughts to her old man hurried down +on that Licken freshet into the muddy Ohio, and rolling on and on for +hundreds of miles through the yellow oozy water, till the body stuck +fast in a clay-bank and was hid for ever. It might be a log; but no, +it was not, for now she saw white hair, which spread and shrank again, +as it sank and rose in the water. A horse, was it? or an ox, with a +hide worth stripping off to sell? but no--it was a man! She could see +it plainly now, as it drifted near, and she felt the thud as it struck +against the branches of her tree, branches which caught it and blocked +its forward course. A man! and still alive, perhaps, for there was a +redness as from oozing blood around. She threw her pipe away, and +shouting to those within hail, she leaped into the water and waded out +with the assistance of her tree. A youth had hurried to her aid, the +water did not reach above his chest, and their united efforts drew the +body ashore. + +"A fine clean-limbed man," sighed Jess, comparing him with her own old +man, whom partial hap, alas, had carried away for ever. "A fine +strapping man, but never so spry as thy own grandfer. Will. _He was_ +the man, but he's away; let's see to this coon. Hm----" a smothered +exclamation, and a suspicious glance at Will, to see if he had +observed her pull a diamond ring from the drowned man's finger; but +Will's attention was drawn to something else at the moment. + +"He ain't come by's end fair, granny," he said; "see to the blood on's +back--running still, by gum! The man maybe ain't dead, granny." + +Granny slipped the ring into her mouth for safety, till she should +find leisure and privacy to conceal it elsewhere, and then resumed her +interest in the drowned man. + +"Runnin' sure, the blood is, Will. And shot he's been. I heard the +crack of a gun up stream the now, I reckon, but I gave no heed. Lay +down his head, lad, and lift his feet. Help shake the water out of +him, and roll him round. There was none by to roll thy poor grandfer +the day he fell in Licken River. Never fear to hurt him, lad! The man +can't feel, and more's the pity. Shake him well and roll him round, +keep down his head, and let the filthy water run off his stommick." +There was little of that same fluid ever privileged to enter Jess's +anatomy, or, indeed to come near her person, save in the inevitable +form of rain or a fordable stream. + +It was a rough and uncouth process of resuscitation, in which the +others, as they gathered about, joined with energy, chafing the limbs, +rubbing, rolling, and kneading; but fortunately for himself Considine +was unconscious of the liberties which the gypsies were taking with +his person; a brown skinned black-eyed rabble, pawing, and pulling, +and fingering him all over, without diffidence or any respect. + +The warm sun and the vigorous handling had their effect at last, a +sigh escaped from the inactive chest, and by-and-by another, and then +old Jess had him carried into the bush and laid on her own bed in one +of the waggons, where she practised such surgery as she knew in the +way of binding up his wound, poured a quantity of whisky down his +throat, and left him to sleep. + +Just then some of the gypsies, who had come on the boat lying grounded +among the weedy shallows round the island, brought it ashore; and +Considine's towels and clothing were appropriated and divided among +the gang, who then pushed the boat back into the stream and let it +drift. When this was done, the camp sank back into rest and leisure. +The people wandered off into the bush, to spend the summer day as +liked them best, some to stretch themselves in the shadow, others to +bask in the sun, while the children picked berries or snared birds, a +happy and unsophisticated crew, till the lengthening shadows of +afternoon warned the women to prepare supper against the return of +their men. + +The men returned earlier than was expected. A shrill whistle rang +through the bush as they appeared, which brought in the stragglers +from every direction to hover round the fire and snuff in expectancy +the savoury odours which issued from the bubbling pots. + +Reuben, the chief man, led Jess aside, muttering to her a rambling +story of his troubles during the day, which she listened to with +impatience and disgust. + +"As usual, Reuben, al'us getting in a row along of them strays you +pick up and let join us. Thou'lt have the hull country raised agin us +ere long, and we shan't know whar to go--us as were so well liked +every whar a while back." + +"It was yourself let him wive with Sall, mother; and you've no call to +cast it up to me. A fine thing it would have been to let the pore +wench go off with her lad, all alone; and her the handiest gal to tell +a fortn' 'twixt here and Allegany. Needs must when the devil drives, +so we let the coon stay. And there's no harm in the lad as I kin see, +'cep' that he's kind o' soft like, and not peart. He's cl'ar off the +now, and he's makin' for the Lines, but, like's not, they'll be down +here the morrow to look for him, and there's a many thing's round this +camp as wuddn't be good for sheriff's men to see. We mun cl'ar out, +mother; cl'ar out the night." + +"I have a half-drownded man in the waggon wi' me, lad--I pulled him +out o' th' water myself, for the love o' your old dad as is drownded +and gone this many a year--and what am I to do with 'n, think you?" + +"Let him slide. Put him back whar you brought 'n from. I wants no +stranger wi 's this night." + +"We cud not leave him here for the sheriff to find. They'd say we did +for him. He has a gunshot in's body as it is, and I hain't a rag to +cover him wi' when we leave him. You'd not be for givin' him your own +coat, I reckon, and I know of nowt else, for I need my blanket to keep +my own old bones warm o' nights. The lads have his pants, and boots, +and things among them, the gals have the shirt and the towels, and I +have the gold ticker for yourself, Reuben, and you wouldn't be for +hanging it round's neck, I reckon, to show we didn't rob him, if we +tote him to Belmore's place afore we start." + +Reuben took the watch, opened it, held it to his ear, bit the chain +with his teeth, tested it in such ways as occurred to him, and +finally, satisfied of its value, slipped it into his pocket. + +"We'll have to take him, I s'pose. Keep him quiet, and keep the duds +away from him. He'll be bound to stay then, cuddn't make off ye know +wi' nothin' but's own pelt on's back. He'll kin pay for's liberty and +new duds afore long. And willin' too. But you'll have to keep dark." + +There was no light in the gypsy camp that night. The fires had +smouldered out, and the shadows of the trees excluded every glance of +the moonlight. There was no sound either; no yelp of cur or cry of +wakeful infant; only the hooting of a solitary owl overhead, blinking +at the moon through the leaves, or the rustle of a fox stealing away +through the underbush, making off with a half-picked bone. A mile away +a creaking of wheels labouring through deep encumbered ruts, and the +cracking of branches might have been heard in the stillness, while +dusky figures shone momentarily in the moonlight as they passed from +one obscurity of shadow to the next. + +Ere morning the gang was encamped again in another quiet corner, +twenty miles distant from Belmore's bush, and next day they resumed +their retreat to the Vermont Line, journeying calmly through a +neighbourhood which knew nothing of the misdoings of Sall's husband. + +Old Jess rode in the waggon with her charge, nursing and caring for +him with much skill, but unable to extract the bullet from his wound. +That was now growing fevered and inflamed, the jolting must have +caused him pain, and might have elicited a groan liable to be +overheard at an inconvenient moment; but she contrived to keep him in +a drowse with strange drinks of her own devising, which she +administered to him, and it was a whole day from the time of his +rescue before he was able to take note of his situation. Even then his +head was dizzy, his shoulder ached; his body was so wretched, and his +mind so confused, that he was glad to turn round and court sleep and +unconsciousness again. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII. + + IT WAS ALL WEBB'S FAULT. + + +It was a day or two before Ralph's nerves recovered their tone. It +mortified him to discover that such things formed part of his internal +economy, for he had supposed himself to resemble the strong and +successful men of history and finance, who march straight forward to +their purpose, looking neither behind nor to either side, careless +alike of the downtrodden and the overthrown who mark their onward +path, conquering and to conquer. It was a day or two before he calmed +down, or, as his wife expressed it, "got over that little turn, which, +now it was over, she was free to confess, had made her feel real +anxious." The cares of business had been too much, she thought, and +she was sure he wanted a change. "Why would he not take her for a few +weeks to the sea; or to the White Mountains she was so fond of? Why +keep a dog and be always barking himself? Had he not made Gerald a +partner? Then why not leave him in charge of the business? She was +sure her boy, with his inherited smartness and fine education, could +manage very well for a week or two; and at the worst there was always +the telegraph, and he could recall his father if he found the +responsibility too much for him. Is he not a fine young man, Ralph? +Own up for once, though he is your own son." + +"Yes, my dear, certainly!--Very fine indeed, and very nice--and a good +lad to boot; but he knows no more of my business than you do, and I do +not wish that he ever should." + +Martha sighed. She had her misgivings that there were depths and +recesses in her husband's thoughts and his affairs, which she had +never sounded or peered into, and which might yield up skeletons and +unwelcome truths to an over-inquisitive search. She had never +attempted to know more than was disclosed, therein manifesting her +wisdom. "Why should she, indeed?" as she asked herself. Ralph had +always been kind; once upon a time, at least, he had been more, he had +been really fond of her; and, for herself, she knew that she still +loved him very dearly, and therefore it was wisdom to keep disturbing +considerations out of sight. It is so always. There is much in life to +make the moral perceptions jar. Good and evil are linked in such close +relations--concurrent streams which occupy one channel amicably, and +with mutual convenience, but without mingling--the wheat and tares +growing up together, and both contributing to the luxuriance of the +scene, however the strictly moral eye may disapprove. Still, Martha +had her misgivings; or rather, if she would have heeded them, her +intuitions. They started from the most trivial grounds, an inadvertent +phrase, a laugh, or even a shrug of scorn, at something good or noble, +which betrayed that there were things, and not so far either from the +gates of speech, which, if they came forth, would raise a barrier +between them which could never be pulled down; and so, as the guardian +of her own happiness and peace, she resolutely turned her observation +the other way, rather than see what it would cost her far too dear to +know, as leading to an alienation worse than widowhood; for there +could be mingled with it no tender regret, no hope, or even wish for +reunion. + +"Then is Gerald to have no holidays this year?" said Martha, by way of +resuming the talk. "If you will not go away yourself you may surely +send _him_." + +"I don't think he wants to travel farther + +--------------------------------------------- + +[Pages 86-87 missing.] + +--------------------------------------------- + +was finished. No, sir-ree! Not if I know it." + +"But, my dear fellow, I really do not know whom you are talking about. +I assure you. I have not seen or heard of him since the other evening +when we called on him together." + +"Who _has_ seen him since then, I should like to know? But it is clear +you know well enough what I'm driving at. Now, tell me, for we have +little time to act in, have you taken any steps towards getting hold +of his papers yet?" + +"What steps would you wish me to take? or rather, what steps would be +possible? Podevin--his host, remember, and the man has no one +belonging to him, or more nearly interested in him, in this +country--thinks he must have gone to New York by the early train the +other morning; that he went straight from his room to the station +without going into the hotel. You see the train stops for breakfast at +that small station, fifty miles down the line. So he is no way +disturbed at his guest's absence, who has taken his room for the +season, and goes and comes as he likes." + +"But the man is drowned! I saw him sink with my own eyes." + +"If you will report that to the authorities, it will both simplify and +hasten matters. Only the first question which they will ask is sure to +be why you waited so many days before saying a word. The heat, no +doubt, may be made to account for a good deal, but you had better have +medical advice before committing yourself." + +"But there is the boat. He undressed in the boat. That will tell the +whole story. One of Podevin's boats, too." + +"Ha! Yes; I think I remember, now you mention it, Randolph's telling +us at dinner, yesterday, that Podevin's boat-house had been broken +open and a boat carried off--yes, and the boat was picked up far down +the river, and brought back all safe. And the old man has been +fretting himself to make out which of his servants could have given +it, for he is sure the boat-house has been opened from the inside. Not +a word about clothes, though, and you see there is no anxiety whatever +about his disappearance. We must wait. The body may be found." + +"But I am going off--off to the White Mountains with my wife, for the +rest of the warm weather, and there is no saying when I shall get +back." + +"No; I suppose not." + +"And I want to take those securities, or whatever they are--you don't +seem to know yourself? a pretty trustee!--along with me. Can I depend +on you to send them after me?" + +"_You_ should know. Would you do it yourself?" and Jordan, braced into +self-assertion by the overbearing tone of the other, looked defiantly +in his face. "In a year and ten months from now your son will have a +right to dictate, if, as Considine phrased it the other evening, he +shall then prove to be the heir. In the meantime, I am accountable +only to my fellow-trustee, and if he does not call me to account I +know of no one else in the position to do so. At the same time, your +assistance in unloading my copper shares might be of vast benefit to +me, and I am willing to pay for that, and pay handsomely, though it is +idle to discuss at present what I may see my way to doing if ever I +become sole trustee." + +Ralph turned away with a shrug to buy his morning newspaper. "Brag is +a good dog, but Hold-fast is a better," was all he said to himself as +he seated himself in the railway carriage, and began to look over the +news. It was a truism he had long been familiar with, but one which +came pleasanter when he happened to own Hold-fast, instead of poor +Brag. However, one must fight the dog he happens to have, there are +chances, always, only one need not lament when what might have been +expected comes to pass. It did seem to him, however, that he had very +needlessly befouled himself with crime; he was going to make nothing +out of it, that was pretty clear, and, as he cynically expressed it, +the devil was picking him up a bargain, dirt cheap. His hide, +however--his moral hide, that is--was tough and callous, and he +congratulated himself on the circumstance. So long as the "untoward +incident" was not known, it should not interfere with his appetite or +his spirits. Already he had become accustomed to that ugly word +"murderer" in his mind; it was bearable he found, so long as it +carried no external mark; though he regretted it, undoubtedly, now +that it had turned out so utterly useless. As there was every prospect +of its never being known, he would survive it well enough, he felt; +but he would take precious good care next time that there should be no +mistake about the _quid pro quo_, before again running the risk of so +many ugly possibilities. + +He reached town busied with these reflections, and hurried to his +office, where he soon was deep in the correspondence of the days he +had been absent, with Stinson behind his chair contributing condensed +verbal information by way of commentary as he went along. + +"Yes, Stinson, you'll do," he said, when he had laid down the last +letter. "You've been a good clerk, and an apt pupil. You have +feathered your nest nicely, I make no doubt, and when the house goes +up, as it must, in three weeks at the outside--I think I can keep it +standing till then--you will be in a good position, no one better, to +start for yourself; and, with what I have taught you, to make your +fortune right off. You will be able to start at once, I say, but if +you take the advice of an old friend--who has not been a bad friend to +you either, though I say it--you will wait on here and wind up the +business. The creditors will be only too glad to have you. In fact, +there is no one else who ever will unravel things. You will, and can, +make your own terms with them, I doubt not; and the only favour I have +to ask of you is that you will do what you can to let that boy Gerald +down easy, and get him his discharge as soon as possible. It is well +for him now, that he should have been so unfit for business--financial +business, I mean, or rather, perhaps, our special application +of the science of finance. He would have done well in some steady, +old-fashioned, respectable concern, I make no doubt, for he is not a +fool; but he wants enterprise, vim, go, and he has too many scruples +for a rising man. His mother, good woman, has spoiled his prospects +for life in this walk; but, as he will probably be independent, +perhaps it is best so. There's nothing like high-souled honour to keep +a man's head up in the world--when he can afford it, that is--I never +could, not till after my road was chosen, at least, when it would have +been too late; so broad views in economics and morals were the only +ones for me, and I fancy some of my admirers will find them to have +been even broader than they thought, after I have cleared out, and +they find their money scattered past picking up again. But this is +digression, Stinson; never mind _me_, only keep the boy's name clean. +It would break his spirit and kill his mother--the truest woman +alive--if any reproach fell on him. Fling everything on me, I shall +have so much to carry that a trifle more or less will make no matter. +And, after all, when Pikes Peak and Montana comes up to par, I shall +be back again with a pocketful of money big enough to make them all +keep quiet. If anybody strong enough to carry on a lawsuit for years +has a colourable claim, I can settle with him out of court; and as for +the small fry, I shall snap my fingers at them, and they will think me +a finer fellow than ever for being able to over-ride them. They're +like dogs, they reverence the man who can hide them soundly. But I +talk discursively this morning. Eh, Stinson? I hope you will +impress upon the lad, what, indeed, is the fact, and what the books +of the firm show conclusively, and that is, that the _firm_ is +solvent--almost, that is; ninety-eight cents to the dollar they show, +and there would be a surplus, if the firm's funds had not been +diverted to my private operations, with which he has no concern, and +which it would be casting a reflection on me for him now to touch. +There is the Bank, the Copper Company, and the St. Lawrence and +Hudson's Bay, in which he has absolutely no interest whatever. If the +creditors of these come to him with representations, and claims of +honour--I know how they will put it--asking him to promise a payment +out of my uncle's fortune when he gets it, tell him from me, that I +expect him as a good son to close his ears to every slanderous story, +and to have nothing to do with those who tell it, and never to admit +the possibility of such claims having a foundation, by attempting to +settle them. It will not surprise me much if that inheritance of his +turns out to be no great thing after all. It has not been in the most +judicious keeping, and----But see, who is that at the door. Tell him, +whoever he is, I am engaged, and can't see him. There are several +drawers full of papers in the safe--the accumulation of years--I shall +need your memory to help me, perhaps. We will tackle them to-day in +case of accidents." + +"Engaged most particularly," cried Stinson, unbolting the door and +holding it ajar. "Can see nobody, Mr. Jordan. Indeed, sir--you cannot +come in--no, indeed!" + +"Stand back, you fool. Don't I tell you I must?" and Jordan, looking +red and white in patches, hot and cold at once, his hat on his head +askew, and his waistcoat torn open, struggled in, pushing Stinson +aside, closing the door again, and locking it himself. + +"See here! Herkimer. Have _you_ been served with this?--I have got one +as solicitor, but you as president should be served also, and so +should each individual director, I hold, and I mean to push the point +as to their being served individually; but there can be no question +about the necessity of serving the president." + +"What is it? Let me see. Hm! Webb v. St. Euphrase Mining Association. +Motion to show cause--pay dividend. Don't know, I'm sure. It may be +in the outer office. Have been busy this morning--let nobody in but +you--and that was only because Stinson failed to keep you out. Ask in +the office as you go out, they will tell you--if you think it of +consequence." + +"Consequence? If they have not served you I can certainly get the +hearing postponed, and secure time to unload." + +"Time to unload? Who wants to unload? _I_ don't. I unloaded long ago." + +"But _I_ do." + +"And pray, Mr. Jordan, what of that? _You_ are not a director of this +company--only the solicitor, its paid professional adviser. Send in +your bill, it will be filed with the rest of the claims, and rank as +the law prescribes when we go into liquidation." + +"Good God! Ralph. It will ruin me!" Jordan had grown all white now, +and beads of moisture were standing on his forehead. "We _must_ stave +off this argument in court. The shares will be unsaleable at a cent in +the dollar. As it is, my brokers have been able to get off none for +three days back--some inkling of this, no doubt. But if I can stave +off the argument in court for a fortnight, there will be time for us +to circulate encouraging rumours." + +"_Us?_ What have I to do with it? I will have no hand in circulating +false reports. Understand that clearly, Mr. Jordan. I wonder what I +can have done"--turning to Stinson, who stood by the door enjoying the +comedy--"to give any one the right to approach me with such a +proposal," and he blew his nose loudly, grinning the while under cover +of his pocket-handkerchief. + +"Do you want to ruin me, Herkimer? I have all the shares I ever took +up still on my hands, not only those I subscribed for, but all +Rouget's, and I was to have given him up his mortgage in payment of +them; but I had already realized that, and bought more of your +infernal shares with the money; and now, the fat's in the fire! If I +can't unload I am a ruined and a dishonoured man. Everything I have +will go, and then the Law Society will come down on me for +irregularities, when I have lost the ability to square the benchers, +and I shall be disbarred. Ralph!" and he clasped his hands, "I shall +be ruined if you do not help me at this pinch. You must!" + +"I don't seem to see it. I fear it is impossible. Unfortunate, of +course; but just what happens constantly, when a man leaves the groove +of his own profession, and ventures into fields of enterprise he does +not understand, and has no experience in. You lawyers are so very +superior to the rest of us. You go into court and talk so glibly of +our affairs, and so much more knowingly than we can do ourselves, that +by-and-by you persuade yourselves that you really understand them. +Then you try a hand at them yourselves, and then you cut your fingers. +It is droll, my dear fellow. Forgive my saying so, but as a man of the +world you must see it yourself; and if only it had been some one else +you would have appreciated the humour of the situation thoroughly." + +"Keep your jesting, Mr. Herkimer, for a more seemly opportunity," +cried Jordan, rallying into something like manhood under the sting of +the other's gibes. "It will prove no very amusing jest for yourself if +I am ruined. Your son's inheritance is involved with my fortune, and +both must sink or swim together. Remember that! I have something in +_my_ power, too, so beware!" + +"I know. You seem to have forgotten our conversation this morning very +quickly. You then defined your position with a frankness which left +nothing more to say. You made it perfectly clear that you would never +leave hold on my uncle's fortune till we compelled you, and we cannot +do that at present. If you saved your money at the present pinch, you +would lose it again next opportunity; or, at least, you would make +sure that we should not get at it. No! Mr. Jordan. I shall put in no +rejoinder, or whatever may be the proper name for it. Mr. Webb may +have his order, and welcome, for any obstruction from me. In fact, as +I am taking my wife on a tour through the White Mountains, it would be +inconvenient for me to be detained watching a lawsuit. If I might +suggest, change of scene will be beneficial to your own health, as a +relief from the worries of share-jobbing. Meanwhile, let me wish you +good-bye. No saying how long it may be before we meet again. Stinson! +Let's get on with those papers. I think I may be able to get away to +the White Mountains to-morrow." + + +The very next morning Martha, escorted by Ralph, set out on a journey +of pleasure through the White Mountains; and a day or two later, +Amelia Jordan, tantalized out of patience by her husband's continued +procrastination as to their summer holiday, went off to Long Branch +alone, and it was not many days later that Jordan himself did not +appear at his office, though where he had gone nobody knew. Some said +he had followed his wife to the fashionable seaside resort, others, +that he had joined Herkimer in his travels. The latter view became the +popular one; it kept the two names conjoined, which seemed best, they +came up together so often now in the talk on 'Change; for the great +house in the Rue des Borgnes--Ralph Herkimer & Son--had come down, and +great was the fall of it, the Banque Sangsue Prêteuse was involved in +the ruin, so was the Mining Association of St. Euphrase, and so were +other important concerns. They had all tumbled together in one +confusion of ruin which set the ears of the public ringing, and filled +their eyes with so much dust that they could see nothing clearly; but +Jordan having been heard to anathematize "that fellow Webb," it was +universally held during the worst days of the excitement that he had +originated or precipitated the calamity for his own base ends. In +truth, Webb was one of the severest sufferers, his fellow-directors +having taken the hint to save themselves in time, and even to make +money out of it; while he, good man, found all his savings and all his +ready money evaporated in smoke or converted into scrip fit for +nothing but pipe-lights, with impending possibilities of litigation, +should any victimized shareholder be tempted to throw good money after +bad and relieve his indignation with a lawsuit. But then he had the +high moral satisfaction of having vindicated his superior probity in +his own eyes--the world's, I fear, were so busy with its own affairs +that they took no heed. He lay down at night with an easy conscience +and a light pocket, if sometimes a heavy heart, for it must be +confessed that his neighbours' non-appreciation of his virtuous +conduct was afflicting. But he was young still, and strong, and +sanguine, and his farm and stock were fairly good. He would make money +yet, he vowed, if only Providence would spare him in the land of the +living; and that--money-making, I mean--is, as all the world knows, +the whole duty of man. + +Webb realized, however, that he must now have a woman in his +household, to help him to make it quickly; not a hireling, as +heretofore, in his days of bachelorhood and prosperity, to be courted +and considered at every turn, lest she should go off and leave him, +but a lawful wife; tied to his homestead by the institutions of God +and man, to churn his butter, fatten his poultry, and look after his +comfort; and do it, too, for life, without other wage than her keep, +and the dignity of being a married woman. + +He had had dreams, like other young men, of a being with golden hair +and wonderful eyes, a human bird of paradise, for whom he was to build +a delightful bower, and live happy with her in it for ever after; but +the day for fantastic dreaming was gone by; birds of paradise are +expensive, and he had no money. He must content himself with less, +with a serviceable work-a-day barn-door fowl, content to roost +anywhere, and for whom a nest of wholesome straw would be as meet as a +gilded aviary for the other--and such a one rose before his mind's eye +in the person of Betsey Bunce. "A homely girl," as he told himself, +"but active and handy, able to bake and mend, and willing to do +it"--for _him_ at least, he flattered himself. She was "awful homely," +he confessed as he mused; "and a fool about her clothes, but if he +looked after the spendings, as he 'allowed' to do, he would have her +dressed sensibly enough, he flattered himself, so soon as her wedding +finery wore out." + +He did not feel as if he could ever come to be foolishly fond of her, +but he thought he had descried tokens that she was not indisposed to +attach herself to _him_. So there would be a certain _modicum_ of love +to furnish out their board, and if it was not he who provided it, at +least he would be its object, which was the next best thing, and as +much, perhaps, as a man could look for, after losing his money. +Wherefore he made up his mind, and the very next Sunday after church +he put his resolve in practice. + + + + + CHAPTER IX. + + JOE PROPOSES. + + +Betsey was one of the last to come out of church on a Sunday morning +now. She hung behind while her aunt lingered to exchange the news with +her neighbours. Since the day when she had hastened to give the Misses +Stanley "a bit of her mind," relative to Muriel's parentage and +rearing, a something more than coldness had sprung up. Miss Matilda's +words on that occasion had been few, but scorching, and the look of +withering disgust, which accompanied them, had been more than even her +obtuse conceit and forwardness could bear up against. She had not +dared to face the ladies since, and, they being in the heart of the +group of lingerers, Betsey felt constrained to remain outside the +circle, a sort of martyr to the truth, ruminatmg in silence on the +consequences of proclaiming it, at least when the proclamation is +ill-timed or ill-natured. + +The circle melted away in time, beginning with Muriel and Gerald +Herkimer--who, in his bankruptcy and the absence of his family, +partook of many dinners and a great deal of delightful sympathy at the +ladies' residence--and ending with Penelope and Matilda, the latter of +whom, though she exhibited fitful outbursts of vivacity, appeared +depressed, and far from in good form. It was observed by those who saw +them drive from the church door that, instead of taking the reins +herself, she let the servant drive, quite contrary to her usual +custom; but then Mr. Considine had been in the habit of returning with +the ladies from church, and his presence at Matilda's elbow may have +been necessary to give her confidence. + +Betsey reached the open air at last, feeling unusually meek and +chastened under the lack of notice she had been experiencing; and in +the revulsion of feeling which ensued when Mr. Joe Webb stepped +forward, and, after ceremoniously inquiring for her health, asked if +she would not favour him with her company for a buggy-ride down the +road, while her dinner was "_dishing up_" at home, it is not +remarkable if she "enthused a little," to cull a flower of speech from +the English column of the _Journal de St. Euphrase_. + +"Oh! Thank you, Squire! that will be nice"--I fear _bully_ was the +word she used, this sweet Western flower, but it means much the same +thing, only a little more so. + +"Then come along! In with you! And we'll be stepping," which was +perhaps a more free-and-easy mode of address than Mr. Joe's wont, for +he prided himself on his fine manners with the ladies; but he was +trying to get up his courage by a little premature audacity for what +was to follow. + +Proposing matrimony in cold blood--did you ever try it, my reader?--is +a serious matter, or so Joe Webb thought. His mind had been made up +on the point, the night before; in the morning he saw no reason to +change it, but he observed that the sky looked heavy. If it had drawn +to rain he would not have been sorry, for he could, without loss of +self-respect, have remained at home, and postponed his undertaking. +The weather kept up however, and he went to church; but very few, I +fear, were the prayers he joined in. + +What he was intending to do would keep continually rising before his +mind; not as it had done overnight in the comfortable after-phases, +when My Lord Benedict should have entered on his domestic felicity, +with slippers toasting inside the fender against his return from the +field, pipes filled, and tobacco fetched, without his needing to +leave the lounge where he reposed, but in the onerous stage of how to +do it. What should he say? and how would she take it? Should he take +her hand before beginning? It would be establishing a sort of hold +upon her attention. But if she objected to that by an unauthorized +individual?--yet the very objection would give the opening to explain, +which he desired. Only--how about getting hold of the hand? It might +be holding up her parasol. To snatch at it would bring down the +article with a flap, which would frighten the horse! Weil, he did not +mind that. He could quiet _him_ well enough with a cut of the whip. +But how about the lady? How to quiet _her?_ The whip would not do +there, yet a while; though later, he had been credibly informed that +Blackstone authorizes such doings on the part of husbands, provided +the stick be no thicker than their thumbs. But the lady might refuse +to be reassured; she might insist on being let down, or worse, she +might actually say. No. No! The word whistled through his mind like a +gust of icy wind, it was so new and so unexpected an idea. He must +feel tremulous, no doubt, till he should be answered "yes," but he +could not bring himself to contemplate the opposite. It would be so +utter a quencher to--well, if not to love for _her_, which was an +eventuality he could contemplate with some tranquillity, at least to +his self-love, which was too near his heart to be thought of without +dismay. He would be, like a railway guard standing on the roof of a +carriage, and sweeping through space at forty miles an hour, when +unexpectedly there comes a bridge which he has not looked for, or +bowed his head to in time, it catches him between the eyes with a blow +irresistible and swift, which snuffs him out of existence, and casts +him away, and leaves him a lifeless wreck upon the track. + +Altogether Joe had not a happy or an edifying service of it that day +in church. A man's own fancies can fret and worry him worse than the +words of others, they hit all the raw places so much more surely. He +hastened from the sacred fane with the very earliest to go, and stood +and watched and waited till Betsey should appear among the other +dispersing worshippers, she was long of appearing, and by-and-by he +began to think, with a very distinct sense of relief, that she was not +there and he must defer the task he had set himself to another day, +when, behold! the very last to come out, she appeared; and, seizing +himself by the collar, as it were, he marched himself into her +presence, and solicited the honour of a drive. Betsey was gracious and +compliant, and did not take long to mount into the buggy; he sprang in +after, and away they went. + +The pace was good; Joe kept fast cattle, and knew how to drive them; +but the conversation flagged. How can a man with a purpose--so deadly +to himself, at least--be at his ease, and alive to the trifles which +lead up to untrammelled talk? How can he be otherwise than distraught? +There is a purpose at his breast hanging heavy as lead, and he feels, +poor creature, as though cold water were running down his neck. "Had +it been a dance," he thought, "to which he was leading the girl out, +it would have been different." The music and the rhythm and the motion +of a waltz bring on a gentle enthusiasm, and the sense of support and +protection conduce to the tenderness which a man should feel at such a +moment; but this was only a buggy-ride; the two were perched up +together behind a horse in heat and dust, and for the life of him he +could not make up his mind what he ought to say. He had heard of +fellows proposing in a buggy, but now when he tried it, it was not the +place it was cracked up to be; and he sat in perturbed silence. + +Betsey was at her ease, however; she suspected nothing, and she was +elated at being borne off in a cloud of dust before the eyes of the +women who had slighted and ignored her five minutes before. Some +people it seemed--men people, too--thought her worthy of notice. She +felt exultant, and she prattled. She wriggled, too, just a very +little, which is scarcely dignified, perhaps, but comes natural to +some people in moments of exuberance. She talked of the weather till +some other subject should arise, like the rest of us who are born to +speak English, but he answered nothing; and then she asked him if a +shower would not do good to his turnips. + +He answered "yes," to that, which is not an easy rejoinder to build +the next observation upon; but then he was busy with his horse at the +moment, for he hit him a cross cut with the whip, and twitched his +nose and eyebrows impatiently. And then there was a lull, and silence +disturbed only by the steady pounding of the horse's feet, and the +rasping of a wheel against an occasional stone. + +"We were so sorry to hear," Betsey said at last, after the silence had +lasted some time, and was beginning to grow oppressive; "so very sorry +to hear that you have lost money by those Herkimers. Do you remember, +I told you the very last time we met what I thought of them, and that +it was not much? But that warning came too late to benefit you, I +suppose. Is it not absurd the way that young Gerald goes fooling +around Muriel up the way? It is just what might be expected from a +girl like her, who don't belong to anybody, for all her airs; but I +confess I am sorry to see his infatuation, though perhaps it only +serves the Herkimers right--the stuck-up lot. I always saw through +them--insincere, and all show; though of course I would not have said +it, on account of their relationship to Aunt Judy; but now, really, it +seems downright wrong to hold one's tongue, and looks like +countenancing their on-goins," and Betsey stopped to take breath. + +Joe availed himself of the stoppage to take up his parable. "Yes, Miss +Betsey," he said, "it is quite true. I have lost the savings of ten +years, and all the ready money my father left. Quite true." + +"Ah!" sighed Betsey very softly. + +"But I'm to the fore still; and you just wait and see if I don't make +some more--and more than I have been _euchred_ out of." + +"I like to hear a man speak like that! It sounds so strong and +capable." + +"Do you think you could like the man himself. Miss Betsey? Mind you, +it ain't all talking with me! It's going to be real, hard, downright +doing--livin' off what my own farm raises, and wearin' homespun off +the backs of my own sheep, like a _habitant_; freezing on to every +copper cent I can scrape, and laying it all by. It will be a hard and +a dull life for the first year or two; but it's a good farm, and +well-stocked, and in three or four years' time, when I have bought a +new reaper, and a few such tricks, and brought in another hundred +acres of useless bush, with my own hard work and the hired boys, I +believe things will be on the road to grow better than ever; for, +though maybe you would not think it, I have thrown away a deal of +money on nonsense in my time. But that's over now. What do you think +of it yourself. Miss Betsey?" + +Betsey turned and looked at him with opening eyes, and met a steadfast +gaze more bewildering still, which made her drop them again, and look +away. "Think? I think it sounds brave in you to speak like that. A man +should never lose heart!" + +"But it's yourself, I mean. Would you like it yourself?" + +"If I were a man, that's how I'd like to be. I'd love to play the man +so." + +"But it ain't the _man_ you'd be expected to play. Miss Betsey. It +would be the _wife_." + +Betsey coloured and looked a little hurt. "It's too serious a subject +to play with, Mr. Webb." + +"But it ain't play. It's good, downright, honest earnest I mean." + +"I don't understand you." + +"Could you bring yourself to marry a fellow who has lost his money, +and is hard up?" + +"I don't know, Mr. Webb," she laughed uncomfortably, and a little +inclined to take offence at such a catechism being pressed on her, +while she sat helpless in the hurrying "trap." "It would depend +altogether on who the 'fellow' was." + +"It's me! Miss Betsey. Will you take me? I'm no great match for any +girl now, I know that; but _will_ you take me?" + +"I don't like foolin' on such subjects, Mr. Webb; and it wasn't +gentleman-like of you to bring me away in your buggy to talk like +this." Her face was scarlet, as she said it, and looked in his; but +there was no bantering smile there,--and a catch came in her throat, +which sent the blood throbbing down to her finger-tips, as the idea +crossed her mind that the man was in earnest. In that case, however, +he would speak again, so she said no more. + +"But this ain't foolin'. Miss Betsey, and I don't know what right you +have to accuse me of sich. Did any one ever know me, man or boy, to +tell a lie? I ask you plainly, Betsey Bunce, will you marry me?" + +"Oh, laws! Joe Webb--I never--let me out here! I never--oh! you've +took me all of a heap. Stop the buggy." + +Joe drew rein, and stopped the equipage in the middle of the road, +just where the shadow of a tall poplar by the wayside would shelter +them from the sun; and there he sat, looking hot about the temples, +and trying to settle his eyes on the tips of his horse's ears, because +these could not return the look, while he dared not turn elsewhere for +fear a mocking glance should meet him and complete his discomfiture, +as he sat there awaiting his answer, feeling like a fool who has +surrendered his shoulders to the smiters--a trapped animal awaiting +the arrival of the hunters--the man who has put it in a girl's power +to say she refused him. It was a moment of dread and suspense for Joe. + +Betsey fanned herself vehemently--what a privilege a fan must be, +sometimes. Since their stoppage she had become less eager to alight. +She made no move, sat perfectly still, and let the perturbation of her +spirits expend itself in fanning. She was coming to herself again. +And, oh! so pleasantly. "What a _puss_ she had been! And that--most +wonderful of all--without suspecting it herself. And there he was on +his knees before her! or what was just the same thing, perched at her +elbow in infinite discomfort, looking all the colours of the rainbow +in his misery." "And should she have him? that was the point. If +she had snared him without knowing it, might there not be others +sighing in secret?" She glanced at him over her fan--that precious +fan!--glanced over it as the timid fawn does over a park paling, and +then is off to hide its head in a bush when the keeper comes in sight. +"And how handsome he was! and how foolish he looked, poor fellow, +getting himself into a state about poor she! It was delightful. And he +so broad-shouldered and manly! She could not find it in her heart to +cause him pain--especially when he had made herself so--happy. And +those old maids she had parted from at church, how she pitied them! +How she should continue to pity them all the rest of her life--her +married life!" She peeped over the fan again, and there was poor Joe +fidgeting worse than ever--for all the world, like a bull at a +bull-baiting--tied to the stake, unable to get away, amid fears and +fancies at his own absurd position, like the yelping curs, which +plague the noble brute. Then she glanced along the road. A cloud of +dust was approaching, a waggon within it, for already she could hear +the rattle of wheels and the clank of harness. Already Joe was rousing +himself and gathering up his reins for a start. Time was up. If she +let this opportunity pass, and allowed matters to fall back into +everyday life, how would she ever bring them up again to this point? +It was provoking, the dalliance was so pleasant, but she could not +risk a slip; so, shutting her eyes, and shutting up her fan, she took +the leap--and just in time, for the buggy was already in motion. + +She said it very softly. What she said Joe could not hear for the +noise of the wheels, very likely she did not know precisely herself +what it was; but they both took it to mean consent, and Joe, so soon +as that lumbering waggon was fairly past, stooped down and sealed it +on her lips, as in duty bound. + +Then there was a silence of some duration, though both were too busy +with their own thoughts to notice it; till at length Joe remembered +that the purpose of their expedition was fulfilled, and asked his +companion if she did not think they had better return. Betsey was +ready to think whatever her Joe thought, leaning up with an +undesirable closeness that warm day, and softly fanning their joint +countenances with a fond and lingering motion of her fan. In time she +heaved a sigh, deep and full of overflowing enjoyment, and then she +spoke. + +"Do you know, Joe dear, you have given me a great surprise to-day?" + +Joe's tight-strained feelings had run themselves down now. He +felt--"tired in his inside," I fear, would have been his inelegant +expression, and longed for a glass of beer. He felt incapable of +conversation, and even a little grumpy, perhaps. Such strange and +inconsistent creatures are the men. + +Betsey's over-wroughtness was quite of another kind. Her nervous +excitement, once fairly past the turn of the tide, was inclined, as +Hamlet would have had his solid flesh incline, to "melt and dissolve +itself into a dew"--of verbiage and watery talk. It was of a +soliloquizing tendency, too, which, though prone to questionings, +passed on from one to the next, indifferent to non-reply. + +"This has been all a great surprise; I never thought that you really +cared for me. Was it not strange?" and she looked up in his face grown +stolid, and beginning to show unmistakable signs of crossness, and +fanned him fondly, smiling into dimples, like the rapturous maidens in +"Patience," when they enthral their poet with garlands. + +"I thought it would have been the pretty Miss Savergne, you were so +attentive to----" + +"She would not marry a poor man, and a poor man, could not afford to +marry _her_," and then Joe stopped. He would have liked to kick +himself for an unmannerly brute; for alas! the soft impeachment was +all too true. He coughed and spluttered. Fortunately, Betsey was too +full of her own pleasant reflections to heed anything, but he felt he +must get away and calm down, or something worse might escape him which +would not pass unnoticed, so he pulled up by the road-side just on the +outskirts of the village. + +"Would you mind if I set you down here, Betsey? It is getting late. +The calves should have been watered an hour ago, and Baptiste and +Laurent are both away." + +"To be sure, Joe! A farmer's wife must take an interest in the calves, +and I mean to do my duty," and she sprang gaily out, and stood looking +after the man and outfit as they trotted off, with a sense of +proprietorship which was new and very pleasant. + + +The rector and his wife delayed their dinner half-an-hour, and then +sat down, wondering what had become of Betsey. They had nearly +finished when she whirled in, a tumultuous arrangement of white muslin +and enthusiasm. + +"Oh, auntie! Oh, Uncle Dionysius!" She involved first one and then the +other in her manifold frills and puffings by way of embrace. +"Congratulate me!--do!--Just think!" + +"Sit down, Betsey, and calm yourself," remonstrated the rector, "and +then, perhaps, it may be possible to think. Meanwhile you take our +breath away. Have you had your dinner?" + +"Well, no. But I don't care--or rather, I dare say I _will_ take just +a morsel. What have you been having? Chickens? Well, I will take just +a bone, and a good plateful of salad, and the rest of that melon. +That's all I want. Such news! Only guess! But you would never think. +Fact is, the squire--Squire Webb--has--what do you think?" + +"Why!" cried Aunt Judy, "I saw you go for a drive with +him?--Oh!--Indeed." + + + + + CHAPTER X. + + AT GORHAM. + + +Mrs. Martha Herkimer, with her husband, travelling at their leisure in +"Noo Hampshire," the country of her girlhood, was a happy woman. He +was constantly with her, had few letters to write, and no men to talk +business with. He seemed to have laid business aside, would read his +newspaper beside her of a morning, and drive with her in the +afternoon, to admire the scenery--"objects of interest," the American +says, meaning everything the residents plume themselves upon, from the +Falls of Niagara, should they possess them, to the new school-house at +the Five-mile Cross Roads. + +It felt like a renewal of the honeymoon, or those delightful "latter +rains," spoken of in scripture, when the thirsty earth, long parched +and chapped with drought, drinks in once more the life-restoring +moisture, and clothes itself anew with grass and verdure. He told her +one day that his house had suspended payment and he was bankrupt, but +as they were travelling with every comfort, and there seemed no lack +of money, she accepted it as one of the inscrutable phenomena of the +commercial world, which she had long given up attempting to +understand. Her Ralph, she told herself, could have done nothing +wrong. He was fonder of money, and harder and keener about acquiring +it, she feared, than was perhaps, perfectly right. Her father had been +a preacher of the old Puritan school, ministering to villagers in a +sequestered valley, and warning them against worldliness and the race +for wealth, the world of wealth being an unknown country there about. +If Ralph had lost some of his gatherings now, it might be for his +greater good perhaps in other ways. She saw many around her who had +failed, and yet lived comfortably and respected afterwards, and she +would not be sorry if such were to be the fate of her own good man. It +would wean him from the hurry and worry of business, and let him stay +more at home than theretofore, to his own good, very probably, and +assuredly to her greater happiness. + +They travelled about, by road and rail, from one summer hotel to +another--there are many of them in the White Mountains--climbing +mountains, sailing on ponds, and honeymooning it delightfully all day +long, and now they were arriving at Gorham by the evening train, +meaning to ascend Mount Washington, already distinguished by his +snow-tipped summit, on the morrow. It was a purple evening, with the +eastward slopes of the valley reddening in the afterglow, while cool +blue shadows stole out of hollows to the westward, forerunners of the +twilight. The people on the platform stood in bright relief as the +train drew up at the station, and Martha's eye took them all in as she +alighted. + +"What?" she cried, "General Considine! _you_ here?" She felt a bump +between her shoulders from the wallet of Ralph close behind her, as +though he stumbled. "Ralph!" and she turned round, but Ralph was +gone--gone back for something left behind no doubt. "General," and she +ran up to him and took his hand, while Considine looked disturbed, and +said nothing. + +"What have you been about, general? Nobody has seen you, nobody knew +you were away; and one of your friends--you know who--is far from +pleased, I can tell you. But say!--your arm in a sling? Oh, general, +you have not been fighting, at _your_ time of day, I do hope. When I +was a girl we always said a Southern man must have been fighting if he +was tied up any way. What have you been doing? A hunting accident?" + +"Madam," Considine began, clearing his throat, and looking tall and +sternly in the good woman's face, who was regarding him with such +friendly eyes. He coughed again, his face softened, and showed signs +of discomposure. How could he speak as he felt to this good soul about +her own husband, and tell her he was a murderer? He would have liked +to get away from her without saying anything; but she had mentioned "a +friend," the friend to whom he was at that moment hastening back to +apologize for, or at least to explain, his absence. He would like to +know beforehand what the friend was saying, and for that, self-control +and reticence, combined if necessary with invention, were needed. He +coughed again. Martha's last words, "hunting accident," still hanging +on his ear, came to his tongue-tip of itself. + +"Yes. Hunting accident--gun accident, that is. Thought I was killed. +Insensible. A gang of tramps found me, and robbed me--they wore my own +clothes before my eyes, the rascals--and saved my life. And now that +they have cashed the cheque they made me give them in payment of the +treatment, they have discharged me cured. But what do the Miss +Stanleys say?" + +"Matildy was mighty huffy at first. 'You should have called to +explain, or sent a note to apologize,' she said. But when you went on +doing neither, she grew down hearted like,--took it to heart serious, +I do believe, though she has never owned up as much to anybody. But, +if once she makes sure you are in the land of the livin', see if you +don't catch it, that's all. I guess I shouldn't like to be you, when +you call to explain, unless you can make the narrative real thrillin'. +But how was it, general? You must come up to the hotel with us and see +Ralph--I don't see where that man's run to--and tell us all about them +tramps. Do, now, general, like a dear." + +"Impossible, Mrs. Herkimer. I go to Montreal by this very train. +Good-bye." + + + + + CHAPTER XI. + + PLANTING HYACINTHS. + + +Desdemona listening to the Moor is a parallel not now used for the +first time. The "cultured" reader has met it before. But where to find +a better? Matilda sat and listened with open-eyed attention while +Considine told his story. + +She had received him with some slight display of coolness, when he +first appeared, but without question and comment. If the men cared no +more than to forget their little plan of a lunch in the woods, of what +consequence could it possibly be to them? They would know better than +trouble him with their little female festivities again, that was all; +and if he had been indifferent or rude, at least they knew better than +make themselves absurd by showing offence. It was "good morning, Mr. +Considine," when he appeared. "So sorry Penelope has gone out. +However, she is only down at the farm, talking to Bruneau. She will be +back presently." Considine had to say everything for himself, without +the assistance which even pretending to call him to account would have +given; while all the time he recognized how deeply he must have +offended by the severity with which he was chilled and sat upon, as +Miss Matilda went on most industriously with her embroidery. + +"I failed to turn up at your pic-nic, Miss Matilda." + +"Oh! It was no consequence. I dare say you would have found it dull if +you had come. As it was, the day was so sultry we felt sure it would +thunder, and did not go." + +"But I really wished to go, Miss Matilda. I was most desirous---" + +Matilda lifted her face to smile a sweet incredulous smile on the +visitor, and then went on with her work. + +"But it is so, Miss Matilda. I beg you will believe me. And do you +suppose I would not have sent you word if it had been possible?" + +"We were surprised at that, now I remember. But it was not a party. It +was nothing. Pray do not mention it!" + +"But I must, Miss Matilda. It was most important to me!" + +Miss Matilda laid her work in her lap and looked up. + +"I went to bed, Miss Matilda, intending to join your expedition. I got +up next morning, still intending it, at six o'clock. You were not to +start till eleven. I bathe every morning in the river. I went out in a +boat, as usual--one of Podevin's boats. I plunged in and swam--just as +I always do--when a rascal--I will not name him--took aim at me from +the shore, and shot me in the shoulder. You see my arm is in a sling." + +"Oh!" cried Matilda, half rising and dropping the work; "I did not +notice your poor arm, Mr. Considine. Indeed I did not. Shot you in the +arm? Did it hurt much? Shot--You? Pray tell me about it. Who was the +person?" + +"A person we both know. But you must not mention his name. Not that he +deserves any consideration from honest folks, but for his wife's sake, +who is a good woman, and would be horrified if she knew. It was Ralph +Herkimer." + +"Ralph Herkimer! But why?" + +"He called on me with Jordan the night before, asking me to give up +his uncle's money, which I hold in trust. You may have heard of the +uncle's curious will, which tied up the money out of Ralph's reach. +Ah! he knew the rascal. I could not give up the money. It would have +been a breach of trust. And so, the very next morning, he fires at me +while I am swimming in the river. Fired and struck me. I tried to +regain the boat, but I could not. I was crippled of an arm, and I +sank, and know no more." + +"Mr. Considine!" and Matilda rose and came to the sofa where he sat, +her cheek blanched, and betraying an interest which made him feel glad +that he had suffered, to call it forth. + +"And--well, Mr. Considine, what then?" + +"The next thing I knew, I was barely conscious; but I was on dry land, +feeling sick and stupid, and more dead than alive. A whole crowd of +people were about me, shaking me, punching me, pulling me, bumping me, +while I only wished they would let me alone, and let me die; for +already I had gone through all the horrors of drowning, and this +seemed like an after-death. And then I found myself among blankets, +and some one--a witch she looked like--was forcing whisky down my +throat, and fingering my wounded shoulder. I was drowsy and miserable, +and, thinking I was already dead, I wondered if all this was for my +sins. And then I slept, I suppose, for when I woke next it was dark or +nearly so; and there was a jolting and rumbling which set my poor +shoulder aching miserably; and I tried to sit up, but some one pushed +me down again and bade me keep still. When I looked, the witch was +perched upon my pillow, with the moonlight slanting through her grisly +hair, and a long skinny arm pressing me down. She forced more whisky +into my mouth, and then I slept." + +"Oh! Mr. Considine. What an experience!" + +"I woke again, and it was daylight, and the old hag seated on my +pillow had fallen asleep. I sat up slowly and with difficulty, for I +was stiff and sore. I was in a waggon under a tree. I tried to rise, +but could find nothing save my blanket to dress in. The hag opened her +eyes and looked at me, and grinned, and asked me what I wanted to do. +I said,' to go home,' and then she laughed out, pointing to me, and +reminding me I had no clothing; and at the sound of her voice there +gathered round a whole crowd of swarthy vagabonds, grinning at me, and +jeering, and when I looked at them, one rascal was wearing my coat, +and another kicked up his heels and showed me my boots. A pimpled baby +was rolled up in my nice clean shirt, and the captain of the gang +pulling my watch out of his pocket, told me it was only five o'clock, +and a heap too early for 'a swell cove' to think of rising. I was +their prisoner, in short, though I must confess the old woman attended +to my wounded shoulder very kindly; bathing it with cool water several +times a day, and bandaging it as well as one of our surgeons could +have done during the war. They kept me several days with them, in +their journeyings and campings, travelling by all kinds of bye-ways +and unfrequented places, and keeping me concealed whenever strangers +came about the camp. They crossed the Lines, by-and-bye, and travelled +into the States. I knew that by the nasal Yankee twang of the +strangers' voices, though great care was taken that I should not get +speech of them--and then, one day, the captain, the fellow, at least, +who wore my watch, told me he thought I was strong enough to travel +now, and if I would give them some money to buy me clothes, and pay +for the care they had taken of me, I might go my ways. I was so +helplessly in their power, that we did not haggle long about the +price, though it was a pretty steep one. I wrote them a cheque, which +they carried to a neighbouring bank, and so soon as my bankers had +honoured it I was set at liberty. I put in a bad time, Miss Matilda, I +promise you; but, if you will believe me, what vexed me most of all +was to think how I had kept you waiting, and never been able to send a +word of excuse. When I was drowning in the river, it was my very last +thought, I remember, and when I came to myself it was my first." + +"Oh! Mr. Considine. How very nice of you to say so. But don't! It is +really too dreadful. It is horrible. I never did hear anything so +frightful. And you say that Ralph Herkimer did this abominable deed? +Are you sure you are not mistaken? Or it may have been an accident." + +"Not a bit of it. I saw him as plain as I see you, and it was no +accident. I saw him shoulder his gun to fire again, while I was +struggling in the water, in case I had succeeded in gaining my boat." + +"You will have him taken up, Mr. Considine? It seems wrong--and +dangerous to leave such a person at large." + +"I would if it were not for his wife. But you know how she would +suffer. She never would be able to show face again. No! For her sake I +mean to let the thing pass; and you must promise me, Miss Matilda, you +will never mention it." + +"How noble of you! Mr. Considine. I shall never be able to look at the +ruffian again. And his son is here constantly. But we must put a stop +to that. It will vex poor Muriel, I fear, but she will see the reason +of the thing. You will allow me to explain to Muriel? There they go; +passed the window this very minute. The assassin!" + +"Nay! Miss Matilda. Let me intercede for the lad. There is no harm in +my young friend Gerald. A fine manly youngster--his mother's son, +every inch of him. No, no, my little Muriel--forgive the freedom--must +know least of all. Young love! Miss Matilda. It is a charming sight to +see. So full, and so trusting--so all-in-all, and yet so delicate and +dainty. So fleeting, sometimes. Always so fragile and so irreparable +if it gets a bruise. So hopeless to try and bring back its early +lustre if once it grows dim. So--but--I'm a maundering old fogey, I +suppose. Forgive an old bachelor's drivel, Miss Matilda." + +"There's nothing to forgive, Mr. Considine. I sympa--I agree +with--it's all so true! There's nothing like youth in all the world, +and--love--but, there now! These are things which middle-aged people +have no business with----" + +"But surely, Miss Matilda. We--they--the middle-aged--have business +with that? If our hearts have remained unwithered by the world--if +there should still be a germ of life at the core, though hidden by the +rind which time brings for a protection, like the scales on a hyacinth +root in a gardener's drawer, do you not think it allowable and even +fitting, that when warmth gets at them, and moisture, they may sprout +forth worthily, even if out of season, each after its kind? Do you +suppose a sound heart can ever grow incapable of love. Miss Matilda? +Will love ever die?" + +"Ah!" and Matilda looked upward. "My own feeling. So true! So +comforting! Love never dies. The poets say so. Beyond the grave are we +not assured that still and for ever we shall love? But yet--but yet--I +fear sometimes that it shows a grovellingness in myself, that I do not +cherish the thought more eagerly--as we grow older should our +affections not take a higher flight? I long so for more warmth, and +regret my coldness and frivolity; but I feel going to church so little +helpful." + +"You are lonely. Miss Matilda. Aspiring after unseen goodness is a +high and abstract flight. It needs companionship. I, too, know what +it means. But a man in the world is little able to withdraw his +thoughts from worldliness, and I am alone. With help--a good woman's +help--Matilda! May I say it? as I have long felt it?--with yours----" + +He took her hand and held it, looking in her face. + +She did not seem to hear him at first, her eyes were far away. And +then she grew to feel the intentness of his gaze, and drew away her +hands to hold before her face, where a blush was rising; for the look +spoke more of a human than immortal love, and it confused her. + +"We will be friends," she said. + +"But friendship will not be enough for me, Matilda. You must be my +wife." + +Matilda was white now. She leaned back in the sofa, and her head fell +forward. It seemed to Considine that she would faint, and he had risen +to ring, when she recovered self-control, and looked up in his face. + +Being a lady of an earlier generation, when fainting was occasionally +practised as a climax to emotion, and brides sometimes wept at the +altar on bidding _adieu_ to the associations of their youth, allowance +must be made for Matilda by young women of the modern and robuster +school, who can ratify an engagement for life with the same outward +composure as one for the next valse. The modes of emotional expression +and disguise are as much a question of date as the fashions in +hair-dressing. Matilda was no more a lackadaisical fool than you are, +my good madam; nor are you, I do believe, one whit more hard or +heartless than she, whom I take to have been a good and affectionate +woman. + +Penelope came in from the farm not long after, and there was much to +tell her. Considine was persuaded to remain for dinner, and went away +in the evening a happy man. + +The hyacinths were getting their chance at last, and he promised +himself that with care and shelter they would sprout yet, and bloom in +the autumn, as fragrantly and gay as with other fortune they might +have done in spring. + + + + + CHAPTER XII. + + RANDOLPH'S BUCKLING. + + +There was a lacrosse match at Montreal that September, the Indians +of Brautford against the Indians of Caughnawaga, at which that section +of the community interested in sport, and now returned from the +regattas of the coast, mustered strong. The Lacrosse Club, the +getters-up of the exhibition, were there in a body, the school boys +were all there, and the betting men, as well as those who are willing +to go anywhere on a fine day on any pretext, and the ladies, who like +to see what is the excitement which draws the latter class--the +butterfly class--together. + +"See how the Caughnawagas have got the ball, and are carrying it on, +and on. There--there! They will win. Almost at the goal. But, ah! That +little fellow! He seems only a boy. How he breaks through them--See! +He has got it away--caught it on his lacrosse--throws it back over his +shoulder--away back past them all. Not a Caughnawaga near it. And now +Brautford has got it. They strike it again and again. Won! By Jove! +Brautford has won. Who would have thought it?" + +It was Randolph Jordan who spoke, springing on his chair and waving +his hat in the general tumult of applause, and the cheering for +"Little Brautford," who now rejoined his comrades amidst the loud +plaudits in which they all shared, but which were especially for him +who had earned the victory. They had won the first game. + +Randolph occupied a chair in front of the grand stand, and beside him +sat Adéline Rouget, dressed in cardinal red and white, tolerably +conspicuous, and not objecting to be looked at; but still better +pleased with the evident admiration in Randolph's eyes, and the +devoted attention he was paying her, than with anything else. They +were old friends, those two, now. Their friendship dated from the +night of their first tobogganing together, when Randolph had +discovered to his surprise that mademoiselle was "really a jolly girl, +and with no nonsense in her." They had many another tobogganing after +that first, and many a jolly waltz, and found that they suited each +other to a nicety. Both were fairly good looking, and always well got +up, and each felt the presence of the other was a credit and setoff to +one's self in the eyes of the world to which both belonged. It is a +strong point in a friendship when one is sure that it looks well. A +friend of the other sex, with whom one groups badly, may be a +delightful companion at home or in the country; but what pleasure can +there be in being seen in society dancing with a guy? A certain share +of the ridicule will fall on one's self. It must always show one at a +disadvantage, and if it is a dance, how can even the finest figure and +get-up look well, if awkwardly held or turned round, or rumpled as to +flounces, and so forth?--or hung upon, or stood away from, as if +people were marionettes? + +These two young people realized that they looked well together. Their +friends had told them so frequently; therefore it was indubitable, +even if they had not known it themselves. Their relations had also +told them that they should marry, and as each found the other +extremely "jolly" and companionable, and saw in a joint establishment +an indefinite prolongation of the gaieties of the past six months, +they were nothing loth. People said they were engaged, and they +supposed so themselves; in fact, they must have been, for in their +conversations that was taken for granted. They were not of a "spoony" +disposition, as they said themselves, however, and found many other +things to talk about more interesting than an analysis of their +affections; and nothing but opposition applied to their head-strong +tempers could have fanned their easy-going preference into an +appearance of genuine strength. That stimulus was now afforded by the +lady's papa, in a way both sudden and unexpected. + +Randolph had resumed his seat beside his companion, and plied the fan +for her, while she managed the parasol, so as to make a small tent, +from under which they could scan their neighbours while greatly +sheltered themselves. There was a tap on Randolph's shoulder, +accompanied by "Pairmit me, sair." + +Randolph looked round. "Mr. Rouget! Good morning, sir. I did not think +we should have had the happiness to see you here--believed you were in +New York. When did you arrive in Montreal?" His hand was held out +while he spoke, expectant of being shaken, but it remained untouched. +This might have been an oversight, though Mr. Rouget was scrupulously +particular in such matters, as a rule; but on the present occasion he +seemed resolved there should be no mistake. The extended hand not +having been withdrawn when the speaker ceased, he drew himself up to +the top notch of his stature--it was French stature, and not +excessive--placing his hands behind his back with a look of lowering +majesty and indignation, which made him as overhanging and colossal, +if also as stagy, as was possible. + +"Sair! Pairmit me to pass you." + +Randolph drew half a step aside, and backward; it was all he could do, +owing to his companion's close proximity. + +"I vish to speak to mademoiselle, my daughtaire." + +"Adéline is here, sir;" showing with his left hand how the parent +might place himself on her other side. + +"Mademoiselle Rouget vill dispense vit your presence, sair," with +severe dignity; and he stepped, not as ushered by Randolph's left +hand, but in the direction of his right, the consequence being that +his foot caught between the legs of Randolph's chair, and he found +himself prostrated on the turf. + +"_Mon Dieu!_" cried Adéline, rising and taking refuge with one of her +friends, a few chairs off, under the impression that a brawl in public +was imminent, and screening herself from all share in it with her +parasol, while she continued to watch the scene through the fringes. + +"_Sac-r-r-ré_," growled the father, passing from dignity into fury. +Dignity cannot possibly survive a trip up with a chair leg, and there +is no refuge from the ridicule of the thing but in anger. + +"You vould dare knock me down? _Coquin!_" as he regained his feet, +grasping his cane, and gnawing his white moustache between his teeth. + +"Pardon me, Mr. Rouget," said Professor Hammerstone, coming forward +and dusting a blade of grass with his handkerchief from the angry +gentleman's sleeve. "I hope you have not hurt yourself. I was standing +by, and you must forgive my saying that our young friend here is +really not to blame for this little accident. It is all the fault of +those foolish chairs. I have bruised my own shins with them. The club +would have done better to provide benches. Jordan is as innocent of +the _contretemps_ as I am." + +Rouget bowed--what else could he do?--and thanked Professor +Hammerstone, who at least had done him the kindness of giving him a +cue to modulate back naturally into the ordinary manner of civilized +men; but he scowled at Randolph, who, in the bewilderment caused by +Rouget's unexpected address--they had parted last as any expectant +father and son-in-law might, three weeks before--had nearly laughed at +his sudden downfall. + +"I vill rekvest you to valk aside vit me one instant, sair. Dis vay." + +Randolph followed, and presently they were out of the crowd, pacing +the grass in silence. Rouget cleared his throat, pushed out his chest, +and strove to be grand once more. + +"It surprises me, Mistaire Jordan, to observe you in ze society of +Mademoiselle Rouget. I demand zat you do not intrude yourself again." + +"Not speak to my promised wife, Mr. Rouget? I do not understand." + +"Understand zen, sair, zat mademoiselle is no more promessed to you. +You mus be fol to expect it. Ze son of your fazer mus know so much. He +has vat you call 'chiselled' and 'gouged' me of my money, and my +shares, and land. He has----" + +"Mr. Rouget! Is it the part of a gentleman to speak of my father in +such terms to me? I did not think you would have done it. I know +nothing of business transactions between you and my father. I presume +both are men of the world. It would be impertinent in me to inquire +into your affairs. But you yourself have sanctioned my pretensions to +Adéline's hand, and our engagement." + +"Have ze bounty to speake of Mademoiselle Rouget by her proper +title--Mademoiselle Rouget de La Hache-young sair! Ze promesse or +contract is now forfeit, as you should know, by ze _chicane_ of--of +_monsieur voire père_," with a shrug and a low bow. "I mus rekvest you +vill not again intrude yourself on ze presence of mademoiselle my +daughtaire, who is on ze point to make a retraite at ze Convent of ze +Sacred Heart, and von day may have ze blessedness to become +_réligieuse_. Mademoiselle Rouget vill not be at home to you in +future." And thereupon the little gentleman executed his very finest +bow, exhibiting both rows of his perfectly-fitting false teeth from +ear to ear, and turned away. He was surprised, a minute later, on +turning his head, to observe that Randolph, at a yard or two of +distance, was pursuing the same course as himself towards where his +daughter was sitting. + +"Mistaire Jordan! I protest! Have I not defended you from coming in +presence of my daughtaire? Vould you draw _esclandre_ on mademoiselle +before _tout le monde?_" + +"I must return Mademoiselle Rouget's fan, sir." + +Rouget held forth his hand ready to become the bearer; but, +disregarding the motion, Randolph only quickened his pace, Rouget +following as quickly as he dared without appearing to run a race. + +Randolph arrived first, and presented the fan, saying, "I shall pass +your garden gate ten minutes before seven," and withdrew in time to +make way for Rouget, who presented his arm with a ceremonious bow, and +led his daughter from the ground. + +Their walk homeward could not have been a happy one. When Randolph met +Adéline, at ten minutes before seven, her face was flushed and her +eyes swollen. + +"Adéline! have you consented to be made a nun, then?" + +"Not if I know it! Not if my Randolphe ees true." + +"Are you game to run away, Adéline? It would be a sin to cut off all +that splendid hair. My mother is at Long Branch. Shall we go to her? I +have money enough to take us down." + +"Long Branch! It vould be divine! my Randolphe. Ze saison ees not yet +there passed. I vill go. But--for ze toilettes? And so many are +demanded zere. But yes! I do see ze vay. I vill send ze robes to +_cette chère_ Mlle. Petitôt, and she vill forvard by express." + +"The very thing! I hate the bother of women's trunks. Besides, we +could not get them out of the house. You can stroll in to Mlle. +Petitôt after dinner and explain. She will do anything to oblige a +friend. And then your maid can bundle the things over the wall, from +the one garden to the other, and Mlle. Petitôt will do the rest. Our +train leaves at half-past eleven to-night. I shall be at the corner +with a cab at eleven sharp. Be sure and bring as little baggage as you +can; nothing but what I can carry on the run from here to the corner, +for you know we might be chased, and then it would be convent, sure--a +hand-bag is the best thing." + +"There is the dinner bell. _Au revoir_. I shall be ready at eleven." + + +Amelia Jordan was surprised rather than pleased, three days after, +when the cards of her "children" were brought up to her with her +morning tea. They had arrived late overnight, she was told, too late +to disturb her, and they hoped to see her at breakfast about ten. + +"Oh, you imprudent children!" she cried an hour later, meeting them in +a broad verandah overlooking the sea. "You impetuous, inconsiderate, +absurd pair of children. And to come to Long Branch, of all places. Do +you know how much a day it costs to live here? And what about gowns, +Adéline? You can scarcely come down to breakfast, even once, in that +travelling suit, and assuredly you must not be seen in it again after +half-past eleven." + +"We came to you, mother, because we had no one else," said Randolph. +"Adéline has run away, without a single thing, unless Mlle. Petitôt +should send her some clothes, and that depends on the maid's being +able to throw them over the garden wall." + +"You pair of babies! Adéline, the very wisest thing that you can do is +to go right back home again." + +"They'd stick her into a convent, mother. Her father told me himself +he meant to. Besides, she's _your_ daughter now as much as his. We +stopped over in New York yesterday and got married." + +"Good gracious! I never heard anything so preposterous. And how do you +propose to live?" + +"We mean to live with _you_, mother, to comfort your failing years +like dutiful children?" + +"Well, now, that really is kind of you, I must say. The sooner I get +back to my quiet little house at St. Euphrase, then, the better. I +cannot afford to support a family of three at Long Branch. It costs a +great deal too much for the mere living, not to speak of the dressing. +Again, at St. Euphrase, I can make you young people work for your +board, as, of course, being honest, you would like. Randolph shall dig +the garden and Adéline shall milk the cows. That will save me two +servants' wages." + +"_Mais, madame_," whimpered Adéline, "Randolphe has me promessed to +come to Long Branch for to see ze gaieties." + +"My child, you have no clothes to appear in. You will have to look at +the gaieties from your bedroom window, and even your meals will have +to be brought you. Are you aware that three new gowns every day is the +smallest number in which any self-respecting woman can appear at Long +Branch? You need not smile, it is no laughing matter. You will +compromise me hopelessly if you come downstairs, and, I may add, +that any things Mlle. Petitôt may send you will not help you here. +Tailor-made gowns are _de rigueur_, and above all, they must be +indubitably new, and worn for the very first time. I would recommend a +bilious attack, my dear; keep your room. And, after all, a fictitious +attack of bile is better than the real thing. I will arrange for our +going back to Canada, and with that view, perhaps, I had better begin +by writing your mother. She will be anxious to know what has become of +you, and I dare say I shall be able to make your peace now, more +easily than later." + +"Ah! _Chère madame_, do not write. Zey vill send me to ze _couvent_. I +know so vell. And never to come out again. And zere I shall be made +make ze _grande rétraite_ for always for marrying me vidout consent. +And it will be so _triste_, have _pitié, ma mere_." + +"My dear child, you may trust me. I have no intention of giving you +up, all the archbishops in Lower Canada shall not deprive my boy of +his wife. Now, be sensible, for once! Go back to your room, and I will +do my best for you." + +And poor Adéline, like a naughty child, went upstairs to her room. + +That day Amelia had a long letter to write. She liked letter-writing, +for she imagined she had a talent for affairs, and this is what she +wrote: + + + "Long Branch. + +"My Dear Madame Rouget, + +"I have been so startled this morning by the totally undreamt of +appearance of your daughter in company with my boy Randolph. They +informed me that they stopped over at New York and were married, and +have now come on here to favour me with a visit during their +honeymoon. I am powerless, therefore, to separate them, as otherwise I +would. I hasten to inform you of this, judging from my own feelings +that you will be thankful to learn that your daughter, on her +disappearance, has fallen into good hands. At the same time, permit me +to assure you, dear Madame Rouget, that this--I scarcely know how to +express my feelings on the subject--this elopement is none of my +devising. I neither instigated, assisted, nor approve it. The children +are of different faiths, and I fear poor Adéline has no fortune, and +no prospect of ever having any. She has come here claiming my maternal +care, and, actually, she has not a gown fit to appear at breakfast in. +I have recommended her to keep her room, and, if you are the +reasonable person I have believed you, I shall see that she stays +there till she has received her mother's forgiveness for this very +foolish step. Indeed, it is superabundantly foolish, and you may +assure M. Rouget, from me, that I deplore it far more than he possibly +can. To think that my cherished son should have married a French +woman, and without _dot_. It is mortifying. When there are differences +of religion there ought to be compensation. M. Rouget will reply that +it is owing to Randolph's father that his daughter is not suitably +dowered. Perhaps so; I shall not express an opinion; but, for myself, +I feel untrammelled by such a consideration. When I was married +myself, my dearest father saw that I did not go to my husband +penniless. He availed himself of our admirable Lower Canada law, and I +was _séparée des biens_. I have my own income, which no one can touch, +and my own house at St. Euphrase, bought with my own money. If La +Hache--what is left of it--were settled on your daughter in the same +way, it might prove a blessing some day. + +"And this brings me to my purpose in writing you. Dear Madame Rouget, +had we not better make a virtue of necessity and accept an +accomplished fact? It would be better, surely, to have our children +properly married in a church than merely for them to have been buckled +together by a Yankee magistrate. My boy insists that M. Rouget shall +assure him on this point before he returns to Canada. His wife, as he +calls her, being under legal age, if any difficulty is made, he +threatens to continue living in this country, which I am sure you +would regret as much as I shall. As to their plans, the young people +can live with me till some employment is found for Randolph. The +Minister of Drainage and Irrigation should be able to find him +something. + +"As to their religion, they have already settled that question for +themselves, having adopted civil marriage. Had Randolph's suit +progressed, as was at one time contemplated, it is probable that, as +he is no bigot, he might have acquiesced in any wishes of his +_fiancée_ or her family; but now they have forbidden the match, and +yet it has taken place. I will not consent to any disrespect being now +shown to our venerable Church of England, and, indeed, I have never +been able to understand how one section of the Catholic Church can +claim superiority over another. No doubt when the present difficulty +shall have been arranged, the young couple, who appear devotedly +attached to each other, will grow into each other's views, and both be +of the same communion. Meanwhile, I am aware that in your church there +are difficulties connected with mixed marriages; but his grace the +archbishop, as I have been informed, holds discretionary power to +grant a dispensation for sufficient reason. I am confident his grace +will see such reasons in the present case, as otherwise our hapless +children will be condemned to remain in this most undevout republic, +and may become the prey of no one knows what pernicious sect. + +"Assuring you of my entire sympathy, and begging that you will not +defer your reply, for in truth the hotel bills at Lone Branch for a +party of three are enough to make one shudder, believe me, + + "Dear Madame Rouget, + + "Yours in parallel tribulation, + + "Amelia Jordan." + + +"Now!" cried the lady, throwing down her pen; "I defy them to pretend +that _we_ wanted their alliance!" Then she read the letter over, +frowning at it critically the while. + +"It is an impertinent letter--or insolent, rather; but what is one to +do? If one shows a tittle of respect they take it as their due, and +become so hoity-toity one can do nothing with them." + +The letter duly reached its destination, and was fumed and growled +over by magnates both of Church and State. Nothing could be done, +however, and, therefore, like prudent people, they yielded--yielded, +too, with a very tolerable grace; and Amelia returned to St. Euphrase +triumphant, leading her children in her suite, and with a vastly +heightened opinion of her own cleverness. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII. + + AT CAUGHNAWAGA. + + +The lacrosse match proceeded all the same, though M. Rouget had +withdrawn the patronage of his presence. The interest felt in the +second game was greater than that in the first. Every one with money +to stake was on the _qui vive_; the chances were considered even now, +whereas in the first innings, every one believed in Caughnawaga, and +odds had to be given to tempt the few down-hearted Upper Canadians to +back Brautford. The second game ended like the first, to the general +surprise, and again Brautford's success was largely due to the clever +stripling, who, bounding about the field as nimbly as the ball itself, +was always where he was most wanted, and calmly did the best thing to +do at the time. "Who is the little one?" was asked on every hand; but +no one was ready with an answer other than the obvious one, "Injun, +like the rest," till a squaw--one of the many who circulated among the +crowd, brown as horse chestnuts, with little beads of eyes and broad +flat faces, arrayed in moccasins and blankets, yellow, red, and blue, +selling bark and bead work--vouchsafed the laconic information, "name +Paul." + +The third game was longer and more obstinately contested than either +of its predecessors. Caughnawaga braced itself for a supreme effort, +under the reproaches of its backers and the taunts of the very squaws. +The best of five were to take the stakes. If Brautford won this third, +the match was over, and Caughnawaga "knocked into a cocked hat." The +players fought their most strenuous on either side, with tight set +teeth and wicked-looking eyes, which boded ill for joint or limb which +should happen within the swing of a lacrosse. Caughnawaga was +desperate, following up its capture of the ball with a compact rush, +and interposing their wiry bodies recklessly between it and the +uplifted sticks of the other side. Rushing and scuffling, they had +carried it nearly to their goal, another lick, and the game were won; +when, in front, there leaped the redoubtable Paul, scooped it up on +his netting, and threw it back over their heads. + +It was done in a moment, while yet the rush and impetus were +unstemmed; an instant later and he was stumbled upon and run down by +his eager opponents, trampled on and stunned, before they could stay +themselves in their rush. They tripped over him and fell in a heap, +while the Brautford men caught the ball in the undefended middle and +had little opposition in carrying it to the other goal. + +"Brautford! Hurrah for Brautford!" The Caughnawaga's heard the shout +while they were still disentangling and picking themselves up, a +defeated band. They picked themselves up and slunk away like cats, +that, raiding a dairy, are suddenly drenched and discomfited by an +ambushed milker. Only Paul was left on the ground, stunned and unable +to rise. + +His comrades were the first to miss him; and they, perhaps, were +reminded of him by their backers in the crowd, for triumph is a +self-engrossing passion, and glory so sweet a sugar-stick, that, while +sucking it, we are not too likely to go in search of the comrade to +whom the most of it is due. + +"Where is the young 'un?" was questioned in the crowd. "Where is +Paul?" and the crowd turned to the now deserted portion of the field +where he had last been seen. He was there still. A squaw in a red +blanket was beside him; she had raised his head and was chafing his +temples. Another squaw--a young one, this--was seen fetching water to +pour on him. But now the crowd was interested, they had gathered round +him, and soon carried him into the refreshment tent, where whisky, the +sporting man's nostrum, was used to restore him. + +The notable Indians on the ground, the elders who did not join in +youthful sports, had gathered to look at the youth who had done so +well, and who might yet, for anything they could know, come forth one +day, a champion of their race. For who can tell what fancies may be +cherished by the red man? The white does not sympathize with them, and +therefore he puts them away, behind his impenetrable stolidity of +bearing, which might conceal so much, but more frequently and with +equal success hides nothing at all. They were once possessors of the +land, in so far, at least, as being there, for they shared it with the +beasts. Traditions of the physical prowess of their fathers are handed +down among them, and who can tell but, in their dreams, they may look +forward to a hero like those of old to arise and vindicate their place +among the whites. + +Our old friend, Paul, of long ago, was a leading figure among these +elders, and one of evident consideration. A tall man, grown fleshy +from ease and lack of exercise, the violent exercises of his youth, +with his straight black hair threaded plentifully with white--a +"respectable" Indian, one seemingly well to do. The token of his +respectability was likewise that which deprived him of every vestige +of dignity or grace, to wit, a suit of rusty black clothes. It is the +queer tribute of respect which men of other races pay to our European +civilization. They cast away their native braveries and +picturesqueness of apparel, and accept the clothing of the white man +taken at its baldest and worst. An Indian, a Japanese, or a negro, +goes into full dress by putting on a chimney-pot hat and black +raiment, resembling that worn by undertakers' mutes, never +well-fitting, never well cared for, and harmonizing vilely with his +dusky skin, while his own natural instincts can arrange combinations +so suitable and becoming. + +Paul stepped forward to where the lad lay, and surveyed the shapely +limbs. He was conscious now, but still dull and stupid, and not averse +to being a centre of interest. Paul laid his hand on his brow, and +felt his chest, and thought he was as fine a man of his years as he +ever beheld. The squaw in the red blanket looked up at him, while she +continued to chafe the boy's hands, and seemed greatly moved; but it +would have been unworthy of a "respectable" Indian of Paul's standing, +to take notice of a squaw on a public occasion like the present. He +moved away, and out of the throng in time, preparing to smoke a pipe +in quiet. The squaw in the red blanket followed him, and when she had +got him well out of notice, that his lordly superiority might not be +ruffled by the familiarity in public, she laid her hand on his arm, +and said, "Paul." + +Paul turned his sleepy eyes that way, but it was only a squaw, a +strange squaw. He had nothing to say. + +"Your son!" said the squaw, touching his arm again. He stopped at +that, and she pointed over her shoulder with her thumb to the crowd +they had come from. + +"Mine?" + +"Yours, Paul." + +"Who are you?" + +"His mother--Fidèle--Your squaw." + +"My son? Where born?" + +"Brautford. You bade me go to Brautford." + +"Ouff." It would have been undignified for a man like Paul to say +more. It meant all he had to say, too, very likely. For, doubtless, +language which is never uttered ceases to be given birth to in the +mind. He turned, however, with Fidèle, and both walked back to the +tent. + +The lad was better now. Refreshment was going on, the people seeing +him able to dispense with their care, had turned their attention to +sustaining themselves. He got up and joined his mother coming in, and +they went out again to a quiet place, followed by Paul, that his +parental feelings might be gratified with an interview, without +compromising his dignity by an exhibition before the world. + +It seemed an unnecessary precaution. Paul's feelings, if he had any, +were under far too good control to lead him into impropriety. He sat +down with them on a deserted bench, however, questioned them both, and +finally accepted his son and his long absent spouse to his heart; that +is to say, he bade them follow him to Lachine, and then conducted them +across the river, and to his home in Caughnawaga. + +Thérèse had ruled there as mistress from the day Fidèle had gone away. +That was so long ago now, that it had never occurred to her that her +sister would return, and the Père Théophile, a wise ruler, who, while +his flock did their duty according to what he considered their lights, +and were duly submissive, did not unnecessarily fret them with +abstract questions of affinity, ignored any irregularity, collected +the church dues from them, and christened the children. There were but +two of these, and girls both, to the intense disappointment and +mortification of Paul. Imagine his satisfaction, then, to find himself +in possession of a well-grown son of fifteen years--well-grown, and +such a player at lacrosse. Was it not he alone, and not the Brautford +band in general, who had beaten the Caughnawagas? And now he would be +of the Caughnawagas himself, and Paul would make much money, in bets +and otherwise, out of his son's fine play. + +He received, then, his new-found family into his home and established +them there with honour. Young Paul, with the privileges of a "buck," +lolled about the place, eating, sleeping, smoking all day long, like +his father. Fidèle sat by the hearth in her blanket and smoked her +pipe, while the household drudgery, now doubled by the addition to the +household, trebled by the presence of a squaw claiming to be first +wife, criticizing, ordering, and doing no work, fell on Thérèse and +her girls--to cut and carry wood, draw water, dig potatoes, cook, and +share the leavings, after the more considered members had eaten their +fill. It was hard lines. + +The village was speedily aware of the accession to its inhabitants. +That same evening the crest-fallen lacrosse players were told that old +Paul had recognized young Paul as his son, and brought him away from +the Brautford band to themselves; and all the bucks in the Reservation +came to welcome the certain winner of games, and congratulate his +father. The middle-aged squaws recollected Fidèle, and came to praise +her son, squatting round the hearth in their blankets with lighted +pipes, while poor Thérèse, deposed from her motherhood of the house, +stole out to the garden-patch to dig and bewail her fate. + +It cannot be supposed that the relations of the two squaws could be +cordial when they found themselves alone together. Their being sisters +made it none the less intolerable to be, or to have been, supplanted. +Thérèse felt injured now, and Fidèle remembered the wrongs and the +jealousy of fifteen years. It was not many days before they came to +blows, scolding, screaming, scratching, and pulling handfuls of each +other's hair, till a crowd of squaws had gathered from the surrounding +cabins; when Paul, the lord and master, appeared upon the scene, and, +in the grand heroic manner of the wilderness and its uncontaminated +sons, took down his cudgel from the wall, and belabouring them both +with soundness and impartiality, commanded them to desist. Was it not +shocking, dear lady? Yet, it was only one of those shocking things +which have been going on from the foundation of the world--which are +going on still, in Egypt, Russia, and elsewhere. The strong use a +stick to the weak, and order, of a sort, is maintained. We know +better, and have changed all that, and we go on improving, though it +may still be a question how it is going to answer in the end. It is +the weakest and the shrillest voiced, with us, who rule. The burly and +the peaceable stop their ears, and yield to escape the din. By-and-bye +we shall have all the ignorant to make our laws and instruct us. Shall +we be better off, I wonder? When every one is master, who will serve? +When all become commissioned officers, who will be left to fill the +ranks? + +There was worse yet in store for Thérèse, however. Fidèle must needs +go to mass in that well-watched community. In Brant she could please +herself, but in Caughnawaga there were ladies of the convent to be +pleased, who were so bountiful. Fidèle's re-appearance came thus +officially before the Père Théophile. Scandal must be prevented, Paul +could not be permitted the luxury of two wives at once, however +capable he might be of keeping them both in order. More, it was the +newcomer, in this case, who was the lawful wife. Thérèse must go, and +he laid his injunction on Paul accordingly. Paul was submissive; one +squaw was enough to mind his comfort, and it mattered not which, +though, if anything, the boy's mother would suit the best. He obeyed +with promptitude, and after administering a parting beating, he turned +the three forlorn ones out of doors. + +When a turkey comes to grief, through sickness or accident, the rest +of the flock are apt to set upon it and peck it to death. It is a +Spartan regimen, and encourages the others to keep well. The spirit +prevailing in Caughnawaga was in so much Spartan or turkey-ish--it is +a spirit not unknown at times in more cultured circles. Nobody dreamed +of coming forward out of natural kindness; and, as a matter of duty, +there was too much of the improper in the whole story, for any one +brazenly to claim praise from the ladies of the convent for sheltering +homeless ones such as these. It seemed irreverent, even, to suppose it +could be a Christian duty to succour them. + +The outcasts walked down the village street, hiding their faces in +their blankets, bruised and ashamed. No one spoke to them or pitied +them. The squaws, their daily companions, sitting at their doors, +sewing, smoking, idling, looked steadily at them as they went by; some +with a wooden stolidity which showed no sign of recognition, some with +a spiteful and vindictive leer. Thérèse had been better off than many +of them, but who would change places with her now? + +The dusk was falling, and the nights were growing chilly now; there +might be frost before morning. The gleam of firelight, the twinkle of +lamps, shone through cabin windows and from open doors, but no one +bade them enter. There was heavy dew in the air, the herbage was +soaked with moisture, and therefore they would not turn aside into the +bush, to drench themselves among the dripping leaves, and be chilled +to the bone with hoar frost, perchance, ere morning. They went forward +to the river-side, and out upon the pier, where the water swept +smoothly by, murmuring monotonously in a sombre passionless sough, +black as their own desolate misery, still and undemonstrative as +themselves. + +They huddled themselves together under the lee of some bales and +boxes, their chins upon their knees within their blankets, and there +they crouched and shivered, all through the livelong night, sleeping +at times or drowsing, but always motionless, with the sound of the +mighty river in their ears, promising nothing, regretting nothing, yet +consoling in its changeless continuance--a life, and one in harmony +with their own, a seeming sympathy, when all the world beside had cast +them off. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV. + + THÉRÈSE'S REVENGE. + + +The daylight had returned, but the sun was not yet up, and the air was +cold, when a heavy hand was laid upon the sleeping squaws, and shook +them roughly. + +"What are yez doin' here? Stailin' is it ye're afther, eh?" + +"Sleep here all night," was Thérèse's answer, as she slowly regained +her feet. She was stiff with cold. "No home to go to--come here." + +"A shindy at home was it? Turned out of doors is it ye are? Sarves ye +right, maybe. But it's a could sleepin' place, _al_ the same, and wan +niver knows. The gates won't be opened these two hours, but ye can +come in this way. Here's an empty luggige room, where yez cuddn't do +no harm ef ye wanted." + +He ushered them in, closed the door behind them, and turned the key +with a knowing wink. + +"Oi'm clair of yez now, me beauties. The pollisman can do as he thinks +best when he comes on at sivin o'clock. Oi've catched them if they're +wanted, an' that's as much as they kin expect from a night watchman." + +The police sergeant arrived at his appointed time. The squaws had +accepted their confinement with a contented mind, and were asleep. +Under the shelter of a roof and on a wooden floor, they could stretch +themselves at length, which was grateful after the cramped position of +the night. + +Their apathetic indifference convinced the man of authority that their +tale was true; they had come on the pier while the gates were open the +evening before, and fallen asleep. It was wrong, as he assured them, +and he could take them up for it; but to what good end? he asked +himself. He was a _virtuoso_ in malefactors, and did not care to +encumber himself with a capture out of which so little credit with his +superiors could be got, as three squawks sleeping on a pier. + +"Look out, now!" he said, shaking his finger at them. "I let +you off this time, but if"--another shake of his finger--"but if +ever--I--catch-you here again--you may look out for squalls." + +Thérèse had lifted her head in dull indifference; but at the sound of +his voice her face changed. She looked at him. It was now long ago +since she had heard that voice before--when she was quite a girl, the +speaker quite a young man--but the occasion was a momentous one. It +was when she had been arrested by mistake instead of Fidèle. If only +it had been Fidèle indeed; and if Fidèle had been punished then as she +deserved, she would not have come back again, like the hungry ghosts +of the long forgotten dead, to push the living from their stools and +bring them to ruin. + +There kindled a red coal down deep at the bottom of Thérèse's eyes +and made them glow and burn, and the surging blood rose to her +weather-beaten cheek and reddened it behind the scarce transparent; +skin the lips parted, and the white teeth glistened, and for the +moment Thérèse in her fury looked handsomer, if in an evil way, than +she had ever done in her youth. It was no apathetic face now, carven +in walnut wood, but rather the features of a snake-haired fury, as one +may see them at times in the caverns of a red-coal fire. + +She laid her hand upon the sergeant as he was turning to go, after +having discharged his prisoners. + +"I know you," she said, as he turned in surprise. "Remember me?" + +"You? Where have I seen you? When was it?" + +"Long ago--_enfante perdue_--Remember now?" + +"What? You the woman that stole the child, and the nuns got off? Yes, +I remember you. You should be at the _Isle aux Noix_ now, I do +believe. Look out, as I said a little ago, or you'll go there yet, +some day. Don't you be expecting the ladies will do as much for you +next time." + +"_Enfante encore perdue?_" + +"To be sure. Do you know where it is?" + +"_Morte_," grunted Thérèse, with a wicked flash of her eye--"ze +bones." + +"Murder? Do you say it was murdered? Did you see it done? Did you do +it yourself?" + +"No. Fidèle and Paul." + +"Will you swear out an information. There is a reward still out. It +has not been withdrawn that ever I heard. If I get you that reward, is +it a bargain that I am to draw it for you and keep half? Is it a +bargain?" + +"Bargain." + +"And you will swear an information?" + +"Vill swear." + +"Where shall I find you?--to-morrow morning, say?" + +Thérèse shook her head despondingly, and looked at her children. +"Hungry." + +"Who's your buck?" + +"Paul was." + +"I know Paul. Has he turned you off?" + +"Got Fidèle." + +"Aha! That's it, is it? And you know where those bones are? Sure?" + +"Svear." + +"Then you'll get even with them yet, my beauty. And, stay, here's a +dollar for you. You say you're hungry, and Paul has turned you out of +doors. Be on the Lachine side of the ferry this evening. I may have to +lock you up, but you'll be well used." + +That evening, at sunset, the police landed Paul and Fidèle, both +handcuffed, on the Lachine wharf, where Thérèse joined the party of +her own accord, and they all proceeded by train to Montreal. Thérèse +could not refrain from uttering one cluck of triumph as she passed her +late master and looked at his bonds, while he shot her a look of fury +and strained at his handcuffs in a way which showed it was well that +they were strong; and then all the party subsided into the stony +stillness of their ordinary demeanour. + +There was nothing very striking in the first examination which +followed. Thérèse recollected having seen a small grave dug in the +back kitchen, and an empty box laid beside it. Then Fidèle had come in +and exchanged clothes with her, and then she (Thérèse) went away. +Neither Fidèle nor the baby had been seen afterwards. She herself had +been taken up and accused of stealing the child, but it had been shown +that she had not left Caughnawaga on the day of the kidnapping, and +she had been acquitted. After that Paul had taken her as his squaw, +and they had lived together ever since. A fortnight ago Fidèle had +returned, and since then she had suffered much ill-usage, and finally +been turned out of doors. + +The evidence seemed sufficient, but in court it would need as +corroboration the finding of the bones; therefore, there was a remand, +and two days later the prisoners were brought before the magistrate +again. The persons sent to dig under the floor had found a box, which +was produced, and a thrill of hushed excitement ran through the court +room; the male prisoner, even, threw aside his sullen stolidity, +turned to the constable in charge, and spoke a few words. The +constable conveyed the message to the Crown attorney, who addressed +the magistrate, and he forthwith appointed counsel for the defence, +leaning back in his chair, and allowing the young _avocat_ a few +minutes to converse with his client. The lawyer listened to Paul, +shook his head, raised his hand in remonstrance, and spoke soothingly; +but the red man's anger, having once found voice, grew fiercer and +more determined every moment. He shook out his long straight hair as a +furious animal will toss his mane, and gnashed his teeth, while his +usually dull eyes blazed like living coals. He put aside the arguments +and remonstrances of his adviser with a gesture of impatience, and, +looking to the magistrate, rose to his feet. The advocate, seeing that +his client was impracticable, preferred to take the work upon himself, +and addressed the bench. + +He told "that, in spite of all which he could say, the prisoner--the +male one--while disclaiming art and part in the crime of murder, was +resolved to claim from the court that he should not stand his trial +alone, or in company only with the ignorant squaw who sat at his side. +Whatever had taken place--and here, in tribute to his own professional +credit, he must be permitted to say that it was sorely against his +wish and advice that he was now driven to admit that anything _had_ +taken place, and he would have defied the learned counsel opposite to +prove that there had, and more, to bring it home to these much-injured +Indians--it was but right that the instigator should be brought to +stand his trial by the side of his instruments, and he claimed of the +court to permit the prisoner Paul to swear an information against +Ralph Herkimer, financier, broker, banker,"--"and bankrupt," some one +muttered--"for conspiring with and suborning, and inciting by promise +of gain, the prisoner Paul to steal, kidnap, abduct, and make away +with the infant daughter of George Selby, professor of music, in the +city of Montreal." He told "how the said Herkimer had continued to pay +an annual stipend or pension to the said Paul during many years, till, +on pressing the said Paul to make away with the said child, Paul had +declared that he could not, and the said stipend or pension had ceased +to be paid from that day forward." + +It was with enhanced interest that, when this had been settled, and a +warrant ordered to issue for Herkimer's apprehension, the box was +placed on the table, and the lid ordered to be removed. + +His worship, the magistrate, arranged his spectacles on his nose, the +county attorney compressed his lips to steady his nerves, lest the +sight of horror to be disclosed should disturb his delicate +sensibilities; and, then, as the lid came away, there appeared--what +might once have been a lock of hay! Time and mildew had done much to +destroy it, the shaking it had undergone since it was disturbed had +contributed yet more towards returning it to its primal condition of +dust; but hay it was, most surely, though even as they looked it +seemed crumbling away under the light and the freer air. The finders +had identified the box. It was manifestly the one referred to by the +chief witness. But where were the bones? Where any evidence of murder? +Not a morsel was there of bone, or even a lock of hair. + +The magistrate shrugged his shoulders. He was a disinterested party, +and could appreciate without alloy of personal feeling the humour of +his court holding inquest upon an empty box. The Crown prosecutor bit +his lip, infinitely disconcerted, and the sergeant of police looked +foolish. There was still the charge of kidnapping, however, that was +sworn to by the chief witness, whose evidence, after all, was +confirmed by the box. It was a grave, a box, and a live baby which she +had seen, and she had not said that she saw the murder. The male +prisoner's own statement and confession, after being warned, was also +in evidence against him. His counsel turned and looked at him, as much +as to say, "I told you so; but you _would_ speak out, notwithstanding +my advice. Now, take the consequence." + +Paul was more surprised than anybody at the discovery of emptiness +within the box. His jaw actually dropped in amazement, notwithstanding +the natural rigidity of his facial muscles. He might have got off, it +almost seemed; but then there would have been no information laid +against Herkimer, and ever since the day he had been dismissed with +contumely from his office before all those sniggering clerks, his +fingers had been itching to be at the man's throat, and only prudence +had restrained them. Fidèle's face remained unchanged, for, naturally, +she was not surprised; but there came a twinkle of childish humour +into her face to see how all those arrogant whites had been fooled by +a poor squaw. + +Thérèse was disappointed, but not more than her experiences as a squaw +had long taught her to bear. The down-trodden are not much crushed +when an expectation gives way. Her foes, it was true, were not to be +tried for their lives, but they were still to be locked up, and +punished in some sort later on, while she herself, an indispensable +witness, would be well cared for till all was settled. + + + + + CHAPTER XV. + + THE SELBYS. + + +George Selby was notified at once, of course, that the inquiry into +his child's disappearance had suddenly and unexpectedly revived +itself, after so many years, with the prospect of solving the mystery, +if not of restoring the lost one. + +It was an old wound now, that sudden evanishment of the sweetest +blossom which had shone upon their lives. His wife and he, each in +pity to the other, seldom spoke of it, and therefore there appeared a +skinning over or partial healing to have come; but it still bled +inwardly, saddening, and oppressing with unspoken grief. In the +fifteen years of their bereavement his wife had been brought down from +youth and strength and beauty to premature old age. Within the last +twelvemonths a change had come. As she had told him, peace and +resignation had come to her, the sad peace of the mourners who resign +their loved ones, believing it is well with them, though knowing they +shall no more meet on earth; and her health had greatly improved. +"Why, then," thought George, "should he disturb her?--revive the +deadened misery and cause relapse? There would be doubt and anxiety +while the inquiry was in progress, and, alas! there was little that +could be called hope to look for at the conclusion." Therefore he said +nothing to Mary, but he did not fail to present himself at the +examination before the magistrate. It was a horrid idea that their +innocent darling should have been murdered by Indians, though it was +relieved by the consolatory thought that in all those years of +mourning to the parents the child's troubles had long been of the +past; and he said nothing when he went home after the first day's +inquiry. + +The next day of examination was one of the most painful George Selby +had ever known. He shrank into an unnoticed corner when the box was +brought into the court-room--shrank from it, but could not tear away +his eyes. And then he listened to Paul's accusation of his Mary's +nephew, and for the first time he divined the motive of the seemingly +wanton and inexplicable crime. Oh! how deeply in his heart he cursed +the detestable money of that domineering old man, who, not satisfied +with having his way in life, must needs strive to impose it after +death, working misery and soul destruction upon his nearest kin. He +shivered and clasped his hands before his eyes when the lid was to be +lifted from the box. He heard the drawing of the nails, the creak and +giving way of each one in its turn, and then there was a stillness; +but after that there came no sigh of horror, the air thrilled with a +movement of disappointment, felt rather than to be heard, and he came +forward and peered into the faces of the crowd. The one additional +horror was to be spared him of being called on to recognize his +child's remains in the presence of curious strangers. + +He peered intently at the prisoners, one of whom had virtually +confessed but a moment before. He noted Paul's amazement and +confusion. He noted that the squaw by his side remained calm, save +that there stole a look of mockery into her face, as she surveyed the +court, and he felt sure that that woman was not a murderess. It was +his heart which was on the strain, and enabled him to see and read the +reality untrammelled by judgment's frequent errors, wrong deductions, +and misinterpretations. He could discern that of which the +professional experience of officials took no note, for the heart is +clearer sighted than the head. + +With them there was a juridical problem to be solved by pure reason, +an indictment to be made, presentable before a judge and jury--a +proposition that the prisoners at the bar were guilty of a specific +offence, with evidence in proof. "Where is my child?" was the ruling +thought which filled George Selby's mind. The squaw at the bar was the +stealer. So much was proved by the witness under oath, and by the +implied admission of her fellow prisoner. But she had not murdered the +child, though perhaps it had been intended that she should; so much +could be drawn from her tranquillity and the confusion of her +companion. He felt that he must question that squaw forthwith, and +after the prisoners had been formally committed to stand their trial, +he obtained speech of her through the assistance of the police +sergeant, who took care to elicit an assurance that the reward, +advertised fifteen years before in a placard of which he produced a +copy, would still be paid when the baby's fate was discovered. + + +"Mary," George said to his wife that evening when they met. "I have +news." + +"News, George? News of what?" + +"The news we have been waiting for all these years. The squaw is found +at last--the right one. She is sister of the one who was taken up at +the time. The two changed clothes. That accounts for the confusion at +the trial. Those who identified her recognized the clothes. Those who +swore to her being in Caughnawaga that day spoke truth, too." + +"Oh, George!" with a weary sigh; "Is it all to be gone through again? +The misery and the pain? Yet now I feel so sure my precious one is at +peace, in the arms of God, that I think I can bear it. It is well the +discovery, whatever it may be, did not come earlier to embitter our +grief." + +"And yet, my dearest, already something which will shock you has come +to light--the instigator of the wrong is named. His accomplice accuses +him. That wretched fortune of your most misguided brother has been at +the root of all our trouble. That men who find themselves so little +wise in directing their own courses, should strive to perpetuate their +folly, by imposing their will on others after they are dead!" + +"You mean that it was Ralph? I have often suspected that; but it +seemed so merciless and inhuman a thing to do, that I have blushed for +shame at my suspicions, even when alone, and cast the thought behind +me. Poor wretch! Look at him now!--shamed and dishonoured--run away to +the States--afraid to show his face in Canada! Martha and the boy are +to be pitied in belonging to him, for they are good; but they do not +know him, and no one will be ruffian enough to enlighten them. Martha +is back at St. Euphrase again. Susan had a letter from her to-day. The +house there is settled on her, it seems, and she wants to give it up +to the creditors, but Ralph says she must not, and that before long he +will be on his feet again, and pay everybody." + +"I fear Ralph meant worse than merely to set the child aside, and it +is no thanks to his intentions if he has not innocent blood on his +hands." + +"Hush! George. It is right you should tell me the facts, but do not +draw inferences. Judge not." + +"My dear, I judge no one; but I have seen the squaw. She tells me she +was ordered to make away--to bury. The very box, which was to have +been used, was produced in court--produced as it had been dug out from +under the kitchen floor, and you may fancy how my heart died within me +at the sight; but when the box was opened, it was found to be empty, +and the squaw has told me that when she came to look at our angel, she +found it was impossible to obey the inhuman command. She buried the +empty box and carried the child away. She speaks of a road with trees, +and a valley with a broad river, and says that she laid the baby upon +the stoop of a house before going down the hill. She says she +recollects the house perfectly. A police sergeant, who seems to have +charge of the case, says he believes it must be near St. Euphrase, and +the sheriff has allowed me to take him and his prisoner there +to-morrow. I have ordered a carriage, and we will endeavour to take +her over the old ground." + +"Something will come of it, George, I feel sure. Take me with you, +dearest; it will be maddening to live through the interminable hours +between now and your return. Let me come with you." + +"There will not be room, dear. A squaw out of jail would not be +pleasant company in a carriage. They are not over tidy, remember. For +myself, I shall sit with the driver." + +"Then I shall take the early train to St. Euphrase, and go to +Judith's. Be sure you come to me as early as ever you can, I shall be +faint with impatience." + + + + + CHAPTER XVI. + + BETSEY AS GOOD FAIRY. + + +When Mary Selby and her sister Susan arrived at the Rectory of St. +Euphrase, next morning, the family mind was already excited by other +news; so much so, that, notwithstanding this was the first visit +Judith's sisters had ever paid, and it was unexpected, they were +received precisely as if they had dropped in from the next street, and +their coming were an every-day occurrence. The family capacity for +surprise had been forestalled. + +"Only think!" cried Betsey, the irrepressible; "young Jordan has been +here--Randolph, you know. _I_ know him quite well; was at a party at +their house, when I stayed with you last winter--knew him a little, +before then, but not much. Well, he tells Uncle Dionysius here--that's +not here, exactly, but in the study--that he ran away with Miss +Rouget, the seignior's daughter. Stuck-up looking thing she is. No +complexion to speak of; a snub nose. Yes, indeed, Aunt Judy, it is a +snub. _Nez retroussé_, is it? That's because she's Miss Rouget de La +Hache, and a kind of a somebody; though folks do say they've lost +their money all the same--like better folks who make less moan. But, +anyhow, Randolph ran away with her--fixed a fire-escape on to her +bedroom window, and down she came, bag and baggage, in the dead of the +night; and everybody in the house fast asleep. They went to New York, +and were married before a squire, and now they have come home, and are +staying with Mrs. Jordan, at The Willows. And they are going to be +married all over again, from the beginning--twice over again, I should +say, for he has just been speaking to Uncle Dionysius, and now he has +gone to the Roman Catholic priest, with a letter from an archbishop, +and no less, bidding him raise no difficulties, but just do it. Think +of that! Is it not impressive? The same two people to be three times +married, and always to one another! I suppose there will be no getting +out of that, anyhow, as long as they live. If even they were to go to +Chicago, I suppose it would take three divorce suits to separate them. +They can only dissolve one marriage at a time, so I have heard. What +do _you_ think. Miss Susan?" + +"I never was married, my dear. I have suffered too much from neuralgia +for some years back to be able to think of marrying, or anything +else." + +"Well! That's not me, now. If I was to have neuralgy, I'd want a man +to take care of me, all the more, 'pears to me. I'm 'takin' steps,' +as uncle there says, to get the man right off; and then the neuralgy +may come if it wants to, I can't help it." + +Both visitors' eyes were fixed on the speaker. The recollections of +their own youth furnished no such amazing expression of maidenly +opinion. Betsey coloured a little, coughed, and began once more, while +her uncle and aunt, taught by experience, sat silent, waiting till she +should talk herself out of breath. + +"The fact is, Mrs. Selby, I'm to be married immediately; as soon, that +is, as I can get ready, and that depends mostly on Mademoiselle +Ciseau. She'll have to make my gown, and she says she's over head and +ears in orders, between so many deaths and all the marriages; for you +know Matildy Stanley's going to marry--more proper if she'd be making +her soul, at her time of life, than thinking of sich--and that chit +Muriel--set her up--she's to be married the same day as her aunt, +though they ain't no kin at all, nohow, to one another, and Matildy +knows it. I call it going before their Maker with a lie in their right +hand--goin' to church to be married, and tellin' such a story." + +"But who are the bridegrooms, Betsey?" + +"Me? I'm going to marry Mr. Joe Webb--Squire Webb, I should say, it +sounds more respectful--justice of the peace, and the handsomest +fellow round here about. But never mind the men, just for one minute. +Everybody knows there must be a man to make a wedding, and any kind +does quite well; but think of a poor girl married without a gown, or +the wrong kind of one. How people would talk! You bein' from the city, +will be able to give me an idea. Here are a lot of _swatches_ the +storekeeper got me from Montreal, and every one has the price marked +on to it. White satin? Oh, yes, it's pretty and stylish; but I see by +'Godey's Magazine' the upper crust ain't as partial to marryin' in +white as they used to be; and white satin would not be much use +afterwards for apple-paring bees, and sich; that's the form our gaiety +takes mostly in the country round here. Yellow? Well, I did read not +long ago about a _recherché_ nuptials, somewhere, and the bride was +dressed to represent a sunflower--poetical fancy, wasn't it? Yes, +yellow's a good colour--easily seen--but it soils just as bad as +white, or worse, for one can say _écru_ for dirty white, but what can +be said for soiled yellow? Just nothing, for everybody sees it's gone +dirty. + +"Brown? and navy blue? I guess one of these would be the best. You +like the blue, eh? Well, now, that's strange, for to me the brown +looks a deal the best. I could be married in my travelling dress, with +a bonnet trimmed with white roses and peacock's feathers--I seem to +see it in my mind's eye. Sweet and rather distinguished--but it would +be better with the brown, would it not, than with the blue? Now, do +really give me your candid opinion, Mrs. Selby; you have everything +about you at home in such good taste." + +Betsey got out of breath at last, and rose to take away her +_swatches_, and there was an opening for the visitors to explain the +cause of their unlooked for advent. Both Judith and her husband were +kind and sympathizing, and both were shocked beyond measure at the +part which Ralph had played in the transaction. For Martha's sake, +however, and for the credit of the family, the subject was dropped +when Betsey returned to the room, she being a known blab of the most +flagrant kind. + +Mary succeeded in restraining her impatience for tidings of her +husband's success within bounds, for several hours; but after the one +o'clock dinner it grew stronger than her will, and would not be +controlled. + +"By which way are they most likely to reach the village, Judith? I +feel myself fretting into a fever as I sit. I must be up and doing, or +I shall lose my senses. Betsey, my dear, will you not come out with +me? We will walk in the direction we are most likely to meet them. It +will bring me the news a minute or two sooner, and it soothes me to +feel I am doing. You will tell me about your own plans, too, dear. It +is good for me to listen to other people's concerns, if only to +distract me from my own." + +Betsey was nothing loth. She was good-natured, at least, if not +endowed with all the other virtues. They walked through the village, +and up the turnpike road coming from the east. Mary, notwithstanding +her weakness, was so urged forward by impatience that Betsey, scarce +able to keep up with her, was soon out of breath, and quite unable to +make the interesting confidences she had intended. + +"Is not that a carriage coming this way? I see two men on the +driving-box, and one of them is George. Oh! the time is come. Lend me +your arm, Betsey, dear, to steady me. I am getting faint. If this is +another disappointment, how shall I bear it?" + +The carriage drew near. One look in George's face told all. +Hopelessness had settled on it; he looked utterly cast down. He +alighted as his wife drew near, and the afflicted ones embraced in +silent wretchedness, as they had done many a time before. The story of +the expedition did not take long to tell. + +The squaw was able to point out the way she had taken all across the +Reservation, with circumstantial details, which made it impossible to +doubt the accuracy of her recollection, and argued a hopeful +termination to their search. On gaining the public road they entered +the carriage, and still the squaw went on recognizing salient objects +on either hand, and finally, at a forking of the road, where there +stood a house, she cried out, that there was the place. It +corresponded perfectly to her previous descriptions. They alighted, +and the sergeant knocked at the door. A woman opened it, and when +asked by the officer how long she had lived there, answered, after +many repetitions of the question and much explanation, and disavowing +that she understood English, twenty years. "Then you will remember," +the policeman said, "if one summer night, many years ago, you found an +infant lying at your door?" She answered that babies were never left +there. She was a respectable woman, who had brought up a family of her +own, and that the proper place to leave outcast children was a +convent, or the priest's house. + +Her hearing appeared so bad, her knowledge of English so slight, she +seemed so cross, so deaf, and so stupid, that they could draw nothing +from her but the disavowal of any knowledge of a child having been +left there, which, however, was what they chiefly wanted to know, and +they came away disappointed. The priest of the village might be able +to make some inquiries, and they were now on their way to find him; +but there was little to be expected after so many years. + +"Where was this house with the woman?" asked Betsey, with awakened +interest. "Not the first house we shall come to going up the hill?" + +"Yes," said Selby, "that is the place." + +"Well, then--but surely it cannot be!--that is the house Bruneau lives +in--the Stanleys' man. His wife confessed to me and Aunt Judy, only +last winter, that she found a baby at her door one summer night, many +years ago, and carried it up to the door of the big house, where my +cousins took it in and adopted it. But, from the way she spoke of +Muriel's parentage, it can be no relation of yours, dear Mrs. Selby. +She said it was--but I can't say what she said." + +"If you please, miss," cried the sergeant, who had been listening, +"will you be so kind as to walk back with us. As you know the woman, +she will speak different to you from what she did to us. I feel noways +sure that she was not lying when I questioned her, now you put the +notion in my head." + +Again there came knocking to Annette's door. Again she opened it, and +looked as if she fain would have run away at sight of the policeman +before her. + +"Annette," said Betsey, "did you not tell me that you carried that +baby you found on your stoop up to Miss Stanley's door and left it?" + +"I know it," answered Annette, and covering her face with her apron, +fled back into the interior of her house. They could hear her mount +the little stair, and bang to a door, but they saw her no more. In +truth, from the time she had unburdened her feelings to the rector's +lady, a new misgiving oppressed her mind. Could English women be +trusted to keep a promise, and they heretics? What would the Miss +Stanleys say, first of her conduct towards themselves in foisting that +particular child on them, and next in divulging the story, to the +discredit of their adopted niece? And now the story was out, and there +was a minister of the law come to take her. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII. + + AT LAST. + + +Miss Stanley sat in the dining-room making up her accounts. She sat at +a table by the window, with her bills and account books spread in +order before her, and her pen in her hand, waiting to begin--waiting +till the wandering thoughts would come back from their wool-gathering, +and settle down to work. Once and again she advanced so far as to dip +her pen in the ink, but the figures did not come, the page before her +continued white, the ink dried up in her pen. With her elbow on the +table, her cheek upon her hand, she went on thinking--thinking about +her household, though not about her accounts. She had been head of the +family so long, had steered and directed it so many years, and they +had been so happy together; and now, it made her head whirl to think +of the changes that were coming to pass. In the drawing-room, at that +moment, was Muriel with her Gerald--a pair of children, and as +unthinkingly happy. Their clear laughter penetrated through closed +doors, and she heard it where she sat. Matilda was in the morning-room +with Considine, as utterly content, if less obstreperously merry than +her niece. And Penelope sat alone. + +The moisture gathered in her eyes as she thought, but promptly was +brushed away as a disloyalty, for if "dear Tilly" had come to love +another more, she was very sure she continued to love her aging sister +none the less. And yet it did seem hard to see that other come in +between. Since her sister had been a very little girl, she had been to +her a mother, watching over and caring for her till they grew to be +companions and friends. They had been all the world to one another, +and while, with a mother's inconsistency, she had wondered at the +blindness of the men, who did not come and marry her sister, she knew +that if they had, she would have hated them for their success. And +now, after all danger seemed over, when they had settled down to grow +old together, when even their adopted daughter was old enough to marry +the man, the devastating man, had come--broken in, to disturb the +repose of their virginal paradise in the hour of coming twilight, and +end the pensive sweetness of their lives. + +Yet, and the thought constrained her to admit that it was far from +being the worst thing possible which had befallen, she had extorted +from her intending brother that he should not take her sister quite +away. He was to live with her, and she with them. The house at St. +Euphrase was to be hers--Penelope's--and they were to be her inmates. +Considine would take a house in town, where she should live with them; +and all three parties to the arrangement had professed they saw no +reason why they should not always live together. "Yet, why would those +two marry at all?" she thought; "surely the season when birds select +their mates was past for them. From the things which Considine spoke +of as remembering he must be positively old; and Tilly, her precious +Tilly"--a new-born candour forced her to admit it now, though she had +not thought of it before--"was no longer young. Why could they not +live on as friends, as they had been doing? when Considine's company +had really added flavour to their spinster lives. What would people +say?" Penelope imagined, like the rest of us, that "people" care. It +is a fancy which sticks most pertinaciously, despite its lack of +reason. Why will we not judge "people" by ourselves? And is it not +true that long before our neighbours have grown accustomed to their +affairs themselves they have become a twice-told tale to us? We shrug +our shoulders and pass on, seeking a new diversion somewhere else. +Whatever we may do which pleases ourselves, "people" will cease to +trouble their heads about it long before the nine days are over. + +The fear of this notoriety, however, was a tonic thought to Penelope. +Instinctively she bridled to think that any should presume to +criticise a transaction in _her_ family, and at once she ranged +herself in spirit on her sister's side, and began to defend her. "'A +man,'" she thought, "'is no older than he feels.' What eminent person +is it who has written that? It is certainly true of Considine. See how +erect he carries himself! How cheerful he is! and strong. His hair is +white, but as thick as ever. He rides, and swims, and walks, like an +active man of forty. And 'a woman is as young as she looks.' That is +true of our Tilly. How well she wears! Who would fancy she was one age +with Louisa Martindale? And yet I believe she is. What impertinence it +will be if any one presumes to say a word!" + +After that turn to her reflections, Penelope felt positively +refreshed, and able to pull herself together. The pen was dipped in +the ink once more, the bills taken up one by one, and the column of +figures extended itself steadily down the page. But her industry was +interrupted ere long. The parlour-maid appeared in some confusion. +What was she to do? She had standing orders not do disturb her +mistress when closeted in the dining-room, and she had been told an +hour ago to show no one into the drawing-room or the parlour, and +there were a lady and a gentleman and a policeman, and some more, +asking to see Miss Stanley. + +"Show them in here," Penelope said, wondering what was the matter. The +mention of a policeman troubled her. Had it anything to do with the +Herkimer bankruptcy?--Gerald being then in the house. The newspapers +had been full of his father's doings of late, and they had had much +trouble to keep them from Muriel's eyes. "Poor child," she ejaculated, +"I hope it is nothing to distress her," and then the visitors walked +in. Mrs. Selby and her husband--she had called on Mrs. Selby, and was +glad to find in one of the visitors a person whom she knew--a +policeman leading in a squaw, and Betsey Bunce--the "atrocity," as she +called her in her mind. "How dared she enter there, after the passage +which had taken place between them at the rectory as to Muriel's +parentage?" Yet it was Betsey who came to the front now, seeing Selby +look confused, and in doubt how to begin. "I can see by your face," +said Betsey, "you ain't half well pleased, Cousin Penelope, to see me +here, after me speaking my mind about what Aunt Judy and me fished out +of your woman Annette. But it's that very same story has brought us +all here to-day, and a good thing it was that I got hold of it, or +goodness knows what would have come to these poor Selbys. You know +from the papers all about their losing their little girl long ago. You +know, too, that the squaw was taken up last week who ran away with +her. Look at her! There she stands, beside the policeman, and not a +bit ashamed of herself, as far as I can see. Could you believe that so +much artfulness-you've read about it in the papers (the changing +clothes and burying boxes, and running away, is what I allude to)--and +so much wickedness--wringing two loving hearts (I'm sure that's the +kind Mr. and Mrs. Selby have got, for I stayed with them last winter +and found them real kind). Look at her, Miss Penelope, and say if you +could have believed that so much artfulness, and wickedness, and +brazen effrontery--she don't blink an eye even--could be tied up in +one blanket." + +"Yes, Betsey," said Penelope, opening her eyes, and looking partly +offended and partly confused; "and what after that? Mr. and Mrs. Selby +and the rest scarcely allowed you to bring them up here, merely to +afford you the pleasure of playing showman!" + +"You interrupted me, Miss Penelope, or rather I got carried away with +having so much to tell all at once; and then I stuck fast. However, as +I was saying, that's the squaw! The Selbys are the parents, and you've +got the baby in this house! You needn't look at me, cousin, as if I +was crazy, for I ain't. It's Muriel--your Muriel--that I mean. Ask +Annette Bruneau--by rights she should have been here, too, to make the +thing complete, and to speak for herself; but, as I have spoken for +all the rest, I may say for her that she would not let herself be +brought. She ran upstairs and locked herself into her room, so we had +to come along without her. Why don't you send for Muriel to see her +mother. Miss Penelope? and Matildy should be here, too. She spoke very +harsh to me the last time we met; but she was mad, then, so I bear no +grudge. She'll be better friends now. And she _should_ be here, too, +to see the meeting of the long-lost child and her parents. It'll be +real touching, and she deserves to see it, for she has been like a +mother to Muriel--I'll allow that, for all that she said to me some +weeks back." + +Penelope fetched Muriel and Matilda, and the explanations were long +and confused, mingled with embraces and many tears. Even Considine +blew his nose, and the policeman passed his sleeve across his eyes; +only the squaw looked on unmoved. "If all these whites were happy, as +they said they were, why did they shed tears?" + +The rush of words grew slower and more fitful after a while. Emotion +is exhausting, whether it be grief or joy. Mary Selby sat with her +arms round her daughter's waist, and her face buried in her bosom, +while Matilda, half-jealous, and feeling half-bereaved, held the +girl's hand. + +Betsey stood up and surveyed the scene. It seemed her own handiwork, +for had she not brought these people together? The emotional silence, +when every one was filled with the same idea, made her think of the +closing tableau in a pantomime, and to feel herself the beneficent +spirit who had brought about the happy _dénouement_. She could not +refrain from holding out her parasol over so many bowed heads. It +seemed to her to have become a magic wand, tipped with a sparkling +star. She could fancy, too, that her gown had transformed itself into +tinsel and transparent draperies, and that she was being slowly +carried up through the ceiling to the sound of plaintive music. + +Much could have been done with Betsey, I verily believe, if she had +been caught early and submitted to culture. But "Tollover's Circus" +had been her only introduction to the world of plastic imagination, +scenic, or pictorial art; saving always "Godey's Magazine of the +Fashions," which instructed her in a variety of knowledge she would +have been better without, the knowledge, not very accurately stated, +of how women with ten times her fortune, if she should ever come to +have any, wear their clothes. + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII. + + THE BROKER BROKE. + + +Ralph Herkimer sat in his New York hotel looking glum. The turn he had +been expecting in Pikes Peak and Montana had come; the stock had been +brought into notice at last, but it would have been better for him if +it had remained unquoted on the share list, as it had been for weeks +back. The turn was one for the worse. The shares had gone begging on +Wall Street. Nobody would buy. He sat with his hands in his pockets, +his chair tilted back, and his hat drawn over his eyes, pulling +furiously at a huge cigar, and involving himself in smoke. It was a +serious position of his affairs, and there was nothing he could do in +the circumstances but wait--wait till he was ruined outright, which at +the moment seemed likely enough, or be patient through months, if not +years, till improvement came. Of the two alternatives, the former +seemed at that moment the preferable, in so far as that it would be +soonest over. + +The Canada mail was in; his letters were brought him--an unpleasant +bundle always now. "They can wait. There is no hurry." He pushes them +aside. But, stay! There is one from his wife. "Martha," he says, and +breaks the seal. + +He was intensely sorry for himself that afternoon. The world was so +hard. Nobody seemed a bit interested to know that he was on the verge +of being ruined; in fact, it inclined them rather to get out of his +way. "Ill-luck," one would have said, to see them, "must be +infectious." His friends on Wall Street seemed busy that day whenever +he wanted to discuss with them, and some had even been rather short, +as to a manifest bore. If he would, he might have recollected that +such are the manners and customs among money-makers, when a +money-loser comes along. He had practised them himself; but that was +when other people were the losers; now it was he, and that made all +the difference. + +But Martha was fond of him, and he turned to her letter for comfort +and sympathy in his deep self-pity. He was fond of Martha, as fond, at +least, as a busy man with his head full of other things can afford to +be of anybody; but that Martha was fond of _him_ in he never doubted, +and that was the aspect of their connection, which was comfortable to +dwell on at that moment. He lit a fresh cigar, and opened his letter. + +It was a long letter, and began by answering all the questions which +he had asked, and then it went on: + +"Gerald and Muriel talk about their marriage continually, as is to be +expected, poor children. I have been trying to stave it off till you +shall have arranged your affairs, and are able to play the part you +would wish on the occasion; but I am only Gerald's mother, and it is +Muriel who has the right to say when. Besides, Gerald will not allow +me to put in a word which would sound like wishing delay, and Muriel +seems to think that if Gerald is there, it does not matter much about +his father. I cannot altogether blame the girl; it would have been my +own thought twenty-five years ago, and, to be sure, I like to see my +boy valued as he deserves. + +"But it is Matilda who is hurrying things forward in this railway +fashion. No doubt she has the best right to arrange Muriel's affairs, +she has been a mother to her; but the fact is, it is going to be a +double wedding. Matilda herself and Muriel are to be married the same +day; Considine has plucked up heart at last, proposed, and been +accepted. He should have done it long ago, as I tell him. And now that +the game is in Matilda's hands, she is more eager than the little girl +of sixteen. She has had longer to wait, you will say, and that there +are no fools like old fools. I know the way you men like to talk, +pretending to be hard, and you as soft as the women--you, Ralph, at +least, only your head is so full of business you do not give yourself +leisure to think. + +"And, oh! Ralph, dear, I do wish you would come back to Canada and +silence the scurrilous reports that are in circulation. Only show +face, and the cowards and liars who invent stories about an absent man +will be silenced; for well I know there is not a syllable of truth in +the whole _farrago_. The city papers are detestable just now; and +really, Ralph, you ought, for your son's and your wife's sake, as much +as your own, to write your solicitors at once, and get them heavily +fined for their abominable calumnies. Indifferent as you are to such +things, you really cannot let that story pass which appeared in the +papers the other day. It is getting copied into every paper in the +Dominion, Gerald says, and he feels so sore about it; he won't show +face in Montreal, he says, till it is set right. I mean, of course, +the vile libel of that low Indian, Paul, which his counsel repeated to +the magistrate, accusing you of having conspired to carry off and make +away with your own first cousin--Mary Selby's child. I wish, dear +Ralph, you would come back and face them out, the foul-tongued +ruffians. That would shame them out of countenance and stop their +mouths. The papers say there is a writ out against you. Come back, +Ralph, give yourself up, and hurry on the trial. The sooner the truth +is known the better. For all my confidence in you, I feel it painful +to have the people's eyes fixed on me when I walk up the village to go +to church, as if I were an evildoer. Think of it, Ralph, and come. + +"But I am forgetting to tell you the great news. Your daughter-in-law +to be, who do you think she is? A niece of the Stanleys, you will say. +Never more mistaken in your life. She is no kin to them at all--not a +drop of blood. She is your Aunt Selby's long-lost daughter. Think of +that! The Indian, Paul, believed his squaw had killed her, but it +seems she carried her into the country and left her at Bruneau's door, +and Bruneau's wife, thinking she had enough of his children already on +her hands, carried it up, and left it on the Stanleys' doorstep. +Everybody supposed Muriel was their niece, though latterly the Bunces +have been rather free with their innuendos. And now the girl turns out +to be a great heiress. Strangest of all, it is what we have been +calling Gerald's fortune, which she is heir to, and Gerald, the lucky +boy, will get back by marriage the very fortune he loses by law. +Nobody can say either that he marries Muriel for her money; but to +tell the truth, they seem a pair of children in everything that +relates to that." + +Ralph smoked his cigar through to the end, smoked it till the butt +dropped of itself upon his letter, charring the paper before it went +out. He continued to sit, rigid in every limb, with his features +drawn, and grey, and set; breathing heavily, but never moving. His +life seemed living itself over again before his eyes, the prizes he +had striven for, the means by which he had tried to win them, the +vicissitudes of his career, and the end which he had reached. "Fool," +was the only word he uttered, and it escaped him in a tone of mingled +misery and wonder; misery, that it was himself; wonder, that he should +have done it; for now his consciousness seemed divided in two, one +half judging and wondering and scorning, the other, crushed into +little save memory, and a sense of being undone, and having become a +burden longing to be shaken off. + +It was no awakening of conscience, such as moralists describe. He had +never troubled himself with questions of right and wrong, true and +false, honour and baseness. Success was the honour to which he had +aspired, failure the one inexpiable baseness. A faculty unused in +well-nigh half a century will scarcely leap into action and +controlling predominance over powers and habits strengthened by +constant use, all of a sudden. It was by his own poor standard that he +stood condemned at last. He had so utterly and unnecessarily failed. +What opportunities he had had! and how utterly they had been wasted in +his hands. + +He had been over-smart all through. In striving to make doubly sure, +and assisting the forces that were making for his prosperity, he had +defeated them. In attempting to shoulder up his fortunes he had pushed +them over. And all was over now. What could he do henceforth? Even +Martha, poor woman, would turn from him when she came to know. It was +infinitely sad; it was beyond remedy, too altogether out of joint, +ever to be set right. And then, he was so weary of it all, he had no +heart even to try. Sleep, long and unbroken, sleep without dreams, +sleep without a waking, that was all he yearned for, the one last good +the universe held for him. + +It was dusk now; the gas was alight all over the hotel, and in the +streets. He staggered to his feet, and slowly went downstairs. A +druggist's shop was near, and there he asked for essence of bitter +almonds. The druggist observed to him that it was "dangerous in +quantity," and must be used with care. "I'll take good care," Ralph +answered, as he went out. They were the last words he was ever heard +to utter. + + +They telegraphed to Gerald from New York next day. His father was +dead. It is heart disease, to which sudden deaths are attributed +now-a-days. It saves many a pang to the loving hearts of survivors. It +saved poor Martha an accession to her grief, and even the world began +to talk pityingly of one who had seemed so rich so short a time +before. For really the world is not a very bad one. With time and +leisure it likes to do a good-natured thing, and does it, if it +remembers in time. And then it has a most valuable code of +proprieties. It holds it wanton and brutal to speak evil of the dead. +And so it came to be in bad taste to mention the Herkimer story at +all. The poor man was dead--gone to his own place. What more was there +to say? + +Even the Indians profited. Their trial came on, but no one took much +interest in it. The young lady had come to no harm; she was even to +marry the son of the man whose name had been dragged into the +transaction. They pleaded guilty, and profited largely by the leniency +of the court. + +The weddings were unavoidably postponed. It was Matilda herself who +proposed that they should wait six months, out of respect for Martha. +Her extravagant haste and eagerness had been for Muriel's behoof. She +feared that the past might get more fully canvassed, and arrange +itself into some kind of barrier, which, though Muriel might ignore, +Gerald might feel ashamed to overpass. + +Jordan's career did not close itself so abruptly as his friend's had +done, and there were times when he envied Ralph the speedy conclusion +of his troubles. His affairs proved to be like an old woman's +knitting; when once a stitch of it is dropped, nobody can tell how +great may be the devastation. Jordan's fortune had crumbled to pieces; +he was a discredited man, and worse, a pensioner on his wife's bounty; +and that last, all who knew the charming Amelia--and all who knew her, +voted her charming--agreed was no enviable position. About a year +after Randolph was married, and settled in a government office at +Ottawa, the Minister of Drainage and Irrigation exerted his influence, +and got the old man--he is really old now, seventy is the next decade +he will touch, and that before long--made stipendiary magistrate at +Anticosti, where among the sleet storms of the gulf of St. Lawrence he +dispenses justice to litigious fishermen. Amelia did not accompany +him. Why should she? To be an ornament of society in Montreal or +Ottawa is the role nature intended her to fill, and she works the part +industriously. An old _habitante_ woman makes Jordan an infinitely +more efficient housekeeper in the far East, where comforts are few, +and there is no society, and she writes him every week the most +delightful letter, with all the chit-chat and scandal about his old +friends carefully chronicled. This affords him nearly as much +amusement to read as it gave her to write, and is far more +persistently pleasant than he finds the writer, when he spends his +annual holiday with her at St. Euphrase. + + +Gerald and Muriel are an old married couple now. Their boy is just the +age of his mother when she was stolen away. He would spend all his +time, if he had his way, with his grandmother Selby, who adores him, +and often calls him Edith in forgetfulness. There is a drawer upstairs +in her room, where there are little shoes, red, white and blue, and +sashes of gay colours, and little lace frocks. They are all nicely +washed and ironed now--the frocks, that is--and the little fellow puts +them on for a lark, at times, though he is getting too big for most of +them now. But there was a time when no one was permitted to touch or +see those things, and when the tears of ten years and more dropping on +the muslin and the lace had rumpled them and blotted them into a faded +yellow. They are precious still--his mother wore them when she was his +age--but the urchin himself is more precious yet by far. It amuses him +to try them on, and, therefore, they have been newly done up for his +lordship's greater gratification. + +Muriel's fortune turned out less than it might have been. The portion +in Jordan's hands having disappeared, Considine offered to make good +the deficiency to the last cent he possessed as far as it would have +gone. But the moiety he had manipulated himself had prospered, and +made a very pretty fortune as it was; and for the rest--no one doubts +that some day Muriel will fall heir to all that he, his wife, and her +sister possess. + +The man with the two wives, is how his acquaintance speak of +Considine, for the three go everywhere together. He is as attentive to +Penelope as to his wife, and she is far more adoring than her sister, +who, being married, has her rights, to criticise, to have little +tempers--though, indeed, Matilda's are of the smallest--and so forth. + +And now there seems no more to say. Betsey Bunce is in her right place +as mistress of a farm. Her poultry lay larger eggs, and her cows give +more butter than those of any one else. She is busy and cheery all day +long, and neither man nor maid dare ever be idle on the premises. She +has proved a fortune to her husband, if she brought him none, and he +owns now that the bad luck which first made him think of Betsey was +the luckiest circumstance of his life. She is bound to make a rich man +of him, and a legislator at Ottawa, some day soon. + + + + FOOTNOTE + +[Footnote 1: Sugar-bush. A grove of maple trees. The farmers tap the +juice in spring, and boil it into sugar. In Lower Canada and New +Hampshire, scarcely any other sugar is consumed in the country +places.] + +[Footnote 2: Jennie Jeffers, queen of the gypsies in the United +States, died in Greenfield, Tennessee, March 10, 1884, and was buried +at Dayton, Ohio, April 16. Fifteen hundred gipsies from all parts of +the country were present.--_American Paper_.] + + + + THE END. + + + + + + + PRINTED BY + KELLY AND CO., GATE STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS, W.C.; + AND MIDDLE MILL KINGSTON-ON-THAMES. + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Rich Man's Relatives (Vol. 3 of 3), by +Robert Cleland + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 40333 *** |