V.
DIFFICULTIES.
"During the short walk that ensued we talked much of the dead widow andher sinister brother.
"'They belong to an old family,' observed Miss Thompson, 'and I haveheard my mother tell how she has danced in their house at many a ball inthe olden times. But ever since my day the place has borne evidences ofdecay, though it is only in the last five years it has looked as if itwould fall to pieces. Which of them do you think was the real miser, heor she? Neither of them have had anything to do with their neighbors forten years at least.'
"'Do not you know?' I asked.
"'No,' said she, 'and yet I have always lived in full view of theirhouse. You see there were years in which no one lived there. Mr.Wakeham, who married this woman about the time father married mother,was a great invalid, and it was not till his death that the widow cameback here to live. The father, who was a stern old man, I have heardmother tell, gave his property to her because she was the only one ofhis children who had not displeased him, but when she was a widow thisbrother came back to live with her, or on her, we have never been ableto determine which. I think from what I have seen to-night it must havebeen on her, but she was very close too, or why did she live like ahermit when she could have had the friendship of the best?'
"'Perhaps because her brother overruled her; he has evidently had an eyeon this property for a long time.'
"'Yes, but they have not even had the comforts. For three years at leastno one has seen a butcher's cart stop at their door. How they have livednone of us know; yet there was no lack of money or their neighbors wouldhave felt it their duty to look after them. Mrs. Wakeham has owned veryvaluable stocks, and as for her dividends, we know by what thepostmaster says that they came regularly.'
"'This is very interesting,' said I. 'I thought that fellow's eyesshowed a great deal of greed for the little he was likely to inherit. Isthere no one who is fully acquainted with their affairs, or have theylived so long out of the pale of society that they possess no friends?'
"'I do not know of any one who has ever been honored with theirconfidence,' quoth the young lady. 'They have shown so plainly that theydid not desire attention that gradually we have all ceased to go totheir doors.'
"'And did not sickness make any difference? Did no one go near themwhen it was learned how ill this poor woman was?'
"'We did not know she was ill till this morning. We had missed her faceat the window, but no doctor had been called, and no medicine bought, sowe never thought her to be in any danger. When we did find it out wewere afraid to invade premises which had been so long shut against us;at least I was; others did go, but they were received so coldly they didnot remain; it is hard to stand up against the sullen displeasure of aman like Mr. Huckins.'
"'And do you mean to say that this man and his sister have lived therealone and unvisited for years?'
"'They wished it, Mr. Etheridge. They courted loneliness and rejectedfriendship. Only one person, Mr. H----, the minister, has persisted inkeeping up his old habit of calling once a year, but I have heard himsay that he always dreaded the visit, first, because they made him seeso plainly that they resented the intrusion, and, secondly, because eachyear showed him barer floors and greater evidences of poverty ordetermined avarice. What he will say now, when he hears about the twowills and the brother trying to run away with his sister's savings,before her body was cold, I do not know. There will be some indignationfelt in town you may be sure, and considerable excitement. I hope youwill come back to-morrow to help me answer questions.'
"'I shall come back as soon as I have been to Marston.'
"'So you are going to hunt up the heirs? I pray you may be successful.'
"'Do you know them? Have you ever heard anything about them?' I asked.
"'Oh, no. It must be forty years since Harriet Huckins ran away fromhome. To many it will be a revelation that such a person lives.'
"'And we do not even know that she does,' said I.
"'True, true, she may be dead, and then that hateful brother will havethe whole. I hope he won't. I hope she is alive and will come here andmake amends for the disgrace which that unsightly building has put uponthe street.'
"'I hope so too,' said I, feeling my old disgust of Huckins renewed atthis mention of him.
"We were now at her gate, so bidding her good-by, I turned away throughthe midnight streets, determined to find the constable. As I wenthurrying along in the direction of his home, Miss Thompson's questionrepeated itself in my own mind. Had Mrs. Wakeham been the sufferer andvictim which her appearance, yes and her words to me, had betokened? Orwas her brother sincere in his passion and true in his complaints thathe had been subject to her whims and had led the life of a dog in orderto please her. With the remembrance of their two faces before me, I feltinclined to believe her words rather than his, and yet her last cry hadcontained something in its tone beside anxiety for the rights of analmost unknown heir; there had been anger in it,--the anger of one whosesecret has been surprised and who feels himself personally robbed ofsomething dearer than life.
"However, at this time I could not stop to weigh these possibilities ordecide this question. Whatever was true as regarded the balance of rightbetween these two, there was no doubt as to the fact that this man wasnot to be trusted under temptation. I therefore made what haste I could,and being fortunate enough to find the constable still up, succeeded ininteresting him in the matter and obtaining his promise to have thehouse put under proper surveillance. This done, I took the car forFulton Ferry, and was so fortunate as to reach home at or near twoo'clock in the morning. This was last night, and to-day you see me here.You disappoint me by saying that you know no one by the name of HarrietSmith."
"Yet," exclaimed Edgar, rousing himself from his attitude of listening,"I know all the old inhabitants. Harriet Smith," he continued in amusing tone, "Harriet--What is there in the name that stirs up somefaint recollection? Did I once know a person by that name after all?"
"Nothing more likely."
"But there the thing stops. I cannot get any farther," mused Edgar. "Thename is not entirely new to me. I have some vague memory in connectionwith it, but what memory I cannot tell. Let me see if Jerry can helpus." And going to the door, he called "Jerry! Jerry!"
The response came slowly; heavy bodies do not soon overcome theirinertia. But after the lapse of a few minutes a shuffling footstep washeard. Then the sound of heavy breathing, something between a snore anda snort, and the huge form of the good-natured driver came slowly intoview, till it paused and stood in the door opening, which it very nearlyfilled.
"Did you call, sirs?" asked he, with a rude attempt at a bow.
"Yes," responded Edgar, "I wanted to know if you remembered a woman bythe name of Harriet Smith once living about here."
"Har-ri-et Smith," was the long-drawn-out reply; "Har-ri-et Smith! Iknows lots of Harriets, and as for Smiths, they be as plenty assquirrels in nut time; but Har-ri-et Smith--I wouldn't like to say Ididn't, and I wouldn't like to say I did."
"She is an old woman now, if she is still living," suggested Frank. "Orshe may have moved away."
"Yes, sir, yes, of course"; and they perceived another slow Harrietbegin to form itself upon his lips.
Seeing that he knew nothing of the person mentioned, Edgar motioned himaway, but Frank, with a lawyer's belief in using all means at hiscommand, stopped him as he was heavily turning his back and said:
"I have good news for a woman by that name. If you can find her, and sheturns out to be a sister of Cynthia Wakeham, of Flatbush, New York,there will be something good for you too. Do you want to try for it?"
"Do I?" and the grin which appeared on Jerry's face seemed to light upthe room. "I'm not quick," he hastily acknowledged, as if in fear thatFrank would observe this fault and make use of it against him; "that is,I'm not spry on my feet, but that leaves me all the more time forgossip, and gossip is what'll do _this_ business, isn't it, Dr.Sellick?" Edgar nodding, Jerry laughed,
and Frank, seeing he had got aninterested assistant at last, gave him such instructions as he thoughthe needed, and dismissed him to his work.
When he was gone, the friends looked for an instant at each other, andthen Frank rose.
"I am going out," said he. "If you have friends to see or business tolook after, don't think you must come with me. I always take a walkbefore retiring."
"Very well," replied Edgar, with unusual cheeriness. "Then if you willexcuse me I'll not accompany you. Going to walk for pleasure? You'dbetter take the road north; the walk in that direction is the best intown."
"All right," returned Frank; "I'll not be gone more than an hour. Seeyou again in the morning if not to-night." And with a careless nod hedisappeared, leaving Edgar sitting alone in the room.
On the walk in front of the house he paused.
"To the north," he repeated, looking up and down the street, with acurious shake of the head; "good advice, no doubt, and one that I willfollow some time, but not to-night. The attractions in an oppositedirection are too great." And with an odd smile, which was at once fullof manly confidence and dreamy anticipation, he turned his facesouthward and strode away through the warm and perfumed darkness of thesummer night.
He took the road by which he had come from the depot, and passingrapidly by the few shops that clustered about the hotel, entered at onceupon the street whose picturesque appearance had attracted his attentionearlier in the evening.
What is he seeking? Exercise--the exhilaration of motion--therefreshment of change? If so, why does he look behind and before himwith an almost guilty air as he advances towards a dimly lighted house,guarded by the dense branches of a double row of poplars? Is it here theattraction lies which has drawn him from the hotel and the companionshipof his friend? Yes, for he stops as he reaches it and gazes first alongthe dim shadowy vista made by those clustered trunks and upright boughs,and then up the side and across the front of the silent house itself,while an expression of strange wistfulness softens the eager brightnessof his face, and his smile becomes one of mingled pride and tenderness,for which the peaceful scene, with all its picturesque features, canscarcely account.
Can it be that his imagination has been roused and his affectionsstirred by the instantaneous vision of an almost unknown woman? thatthis swelling of the heart and this sudden turning of his whole naturetowards what is sweetest, holiest, and most endearing in life means thathis hitherto free spirit has met its mate, and that here in the lonelydarkness, before a strange portal and in the midst of new and untriedscenes, he has found the fate that comes once to every man, making him achanged being for ever after?
The month is June and the air is full of the scent of roses. He can seetheir fairy forms shining from amid the vines clambering over the wallsand porches before him. They suggest all that is richest and spiciestand most exquisite in nature, as does her face as he remembered it. Whatif a thorn has rent a petal here and there, in the luxurious flowersbefore him, are they not roses still? So to him her face is all thelovelier for the blemish which might speak to others of imperfection,but which to him is only a call for profounder tenderness and moreardent devotion. And if in her nature there lies a fault also, is not aman's first love potent enough to overlook even that? He begins to thinkso, and allows his glances to roam from window to window of the nearlydarkened house, as if half expecting her sweet and melancholy head tolook forth in quest of the stars--or him.
The living rooms are mainly on the side that overlooks the garden, andscarcely understanding by what impulse he is swayed, he passes aroundthe wall to a second gate, which he perceives opening at right angles tothe poplar walk. Here he pauses a moment, looking up at the window whichfor some reason he has determined to be hers, and while he stands there,the moonlight shows the figure of another man coming from the highwayand making towards the self-same spot. But before this second personreaches Frank he pauses, falters, and finally withdraws. Who is it? Theshadow is on his face and we cannot see, but one thing is apparent,Frank Etheridge is not the only man who worships at this especial shrineto-night.