VI.
YOUNG MEN'S FANCIES.
The next morning at about nine o'clock Frank burst impetuously intoEdgar's presence. They had not met for a good-night the evening beforeand they had taken breakfast separately.
"Edgar, what is this I hear about Hermione Cavanagh? Is it true shelives alone in that house with her sister, and that they neither of themever go out, not even for a half-hour's stroll in the streets?"
Edgar, flushed at the other's excitement, turned and busied himself amoment with his books and papers before replying.
"Frank, you have been among the gossips."
"And what if I have! You would tell me nothing, and I knew there was atragedy in her face; I saw it at the first glance."
"Is it a tragedy, this not going out?"
"It is the result of a tragedy; must be. They say nothing and nobodycould draw from her beyond the boundary of that brick wall we rode by socarelessly. And she so young, so beautiful!"
"Frank, you exaggerate," was all the answer he received.
Frank bit his lip; the phrase he had used had been a trifle strong forthe occasion. But in another moment he was ready to continue theconversation.
"Perhaps I do speak of an experiment that has never been tried; but youknow what I mean. She has received some shock which has terrified herand made her afraid of the streets, and no one can subdue this fear orinduce her to step through her own gate. Is not that sad and interestingenough to move a man who recognizes her beauty?"
"It is certainly very sad," quoth the other, "if it is quite true, whichI doubt."
"Go talk to your neighbors then; they have not been absent like yourselffor a good long year."
"I am not interested enough," the other began.
"But you ought to be," interpolated Frank. "As a physician you ought torecognize the peculiarities of such a prejudice. Why, if I had such acase----"
"But the case is not mine. I am not and never have been Miss Cavanagh'sphysician."
"Well, well, her friend then."
"Who told you I was her friend?"
"I don't remember; I understood from some one that you used to visither."
"My neighbors, as you call them, have good memories."
"_Did_ you use to visit her?"
"Frank, Frank, subdue your curiosity. If I did, I do not now. The oldgentleman is dead, and it was he upon whom I was accustomed to call whenI went to their house."
"The old gentleman?"
"Miss Cavanagh's father."
"And you called upon him?"
"Sometimes."
"Edgar, how short you are."
"Frank, how impatient you are."
"But I have reason."
"How's that?"
"I want to hear about her, and you mock me with the most evasivereplies."
Edgar turned towards his friend; the flush had departed from hisfeatures, but his manner certainly was not natural. Yet he did not lookunkindly at the ardent young lawyer. On the contrary, there was a gleamof compassion in his eye, as he remarked, with more emphasis than he hadbefore used:
"I am sorry if I seem to be evading any question you choose to put. Butthe truth is you seem to know more about the young lady than I domyself. I did not know that she was the victim of any such caprice."
"Yet it has lasted a year."
"A year?"
"Just the time you have been away."
"Just----" Edgar paused in the repetition. Evidently his attention hadbeen caught at last. But he soon recovered himself. "A strangecoincidence," he laughed. "Happily it is nothing more."
Frank surveyed his friend very seriously.
"I shall believe you," said he.
"You may," was the candid rejoinder. And the young physician did notflinch, though Etheridge continued to look at him steadily and withundoubted intention. "And now what luck with Jerry?" he suddenlyinquired, with a cheerful change of tone.
"None; I shall leave town at ten."
"Is there no Harriet Smith here?"
"Not if I can believe him."
"And has been none in the last twenty years?"
"Not that he can find out."
"Then your quest here is at an end?"
"No, it has taken another turn, that is all."
"You mean----"
"That I shall come back here to-morrow. I must be sure that what Jerrysays is true. Besides---- But why mince the matter? I--I have becomeinterested in that girl, Edgar, and want to know her--hear her speak.Cannot you help me to make her acquaintance? If you used to go to thehouse---- Why do you frown? Do you not like Miss Cavanagh? "
Edgar hastily smoothed his forehead.
"Frank, I have never thought very much about her. She was young when Ivisited her father, and then that scar----"
"Never mind," cried Frank. He felt as if a wound in his own breast hadbeen touched.
Edgar was astonished. He was not accustomed to display his own feelings,and did not know what to make of a man who did. But he did not finishhis sentence.
"If she does not go out," he observed instead, "she may be equallyunwilling to receive visitors."
"Oh, no," the other eagerly broke in; "people visit there just the same.Only they say she never likes to hear anything about her peculiarity.She wishes it accepted without words."
It was now Edgar's turn to ask a question.
"You say she lives there alone? You mean with servants, doubtless?"
"Oh, yes, she has a servant. But I did not say she lived there alone; Isaid she and her sister."
Edgar was silent.
"Her sister does not go out, either, they say."
"No? What does it all mean?"
"That is what _I_ want to know."
"Not go out? Emma!"
"Do you remember _Emma_?"
"Yes, she is younger than Hermione."
"And what kind of a girl is _she_?"
"Don't ask me, Frank. I have no talent for describing beautiful women."
"She is beautiful, then?"
"If her sister is, yes."
"You mean _she_ has no scar." It was softly said, almost reverently.
"No, she has no scar."
Frank shook his head.
"The scar appeals to me, Edgar."
Edgar smiled, but it was not naturally. The constraint in his manner hadincreased rather than diminished, and he seemed anxious to start uponthe round of calls he had purposed to make.
"You must excuse me," said he, "I shall have to be off. You are comingback to-morrow?"
"If business does not detain me."
"You will find me in my new office by that time. I have rented the smallbrown house you must have noticed on the main street. Come there, and ifyou do not mind bachelor housekeeping, stay with me while you remain intown. I shall have a good cook, you may be sure, and as for a room, thenorth chamber has already been set apart for you."
Frank's face softened and he grasped the doctor's hand.
"That's good of you; it looks as if you expected me to need it."
"Have you not a Harriet Smith to find?"
Frank shrugged his shoulders. "I see that you understand lawyers."
Frank rode down to the depot with Jerry. As he passed Miss Cavanagh'shouse he was startled to perceive a youthful figure bending over theflower-beds on the inner side of the wall. "She is not so pretty bydaylight," was his first thought. But at that moment she raised herhead, and with a warm thrill he recognized the fact that it was notHermione, but the sister he was looking at.
It gave him something to think of, for this sister was not without herattractions, though they were less brilliant and also less marred thanthose of the sad and stately Hermione.
When he arrived at his office his first inquiry was if anything had beenheard from Flatbush, and upon being told to the contrary he immediatelystarted for that place. He found the house a scene of some tumult.Notwithstanding the fact that the poor woman still lay unburied, theparlors and lower hall were filled with people, who st
ared at the wallsand rapped with wary but eager knuckles on the various lintels andcasements. Whispers of a treasure having been found beneath the boardsof the flooring had reached the ear of the public, and the greatestcuriosity had been raised in the breasts of those who up to this day hadlooked upon the house as a worm-eaten structure fit only for the shelterof dogs.
Mr. Dickey was in a room above, and to him Frank immediately hastened.
"Well," said he, "what news?"
"Ah," cried the jovial witness, coming forward, "glad to see you. Haveyou found the heirs?"
"Not yet," rejoined Frank. "Have you had any trouble? I thought I saw apolice-officer below."
"Yes, we had to have some one with authority here. Even Huckins agreedto that; he is afraid the house will be run away with, I think. Did yousee what a crowd has assembled in the parlors? We let them in so thatHuckins won't seem to be the sole object of suspicion; but he really is,you know. He gave me plenty to do that night."
"He did, did he?"
"Yes; you had scarcely gone before he began his tactics. First he ledme very politely to a room where there was a bed; then he brought me abottle of the vilest rum you ever drank; and then he sat down to beaffable. While he talked I was at ease, but when he finally got up andsaid he would try to get a snatch of sleep I grew suspicious, andstopped drinking the rum and set myself to listening. He went directlyto a room not far from me and shut himself in. He had no light, but in afew minutes I heard him strike a match, and then another and another.'He is searching under the boards for more treasure,' thought I, andcreeping into the next room I was fortunate enough to come upon a closetso old and with such big cracks in its partition that I was enabled tolook through them into the place where he was. The sight that met my eyewas startling. He was, as I conjectured, peering under the boards, whichhe had ripped up early in the evening; and as he had only the light of amatch to aid him, I would catch quick glimpses of his eager, peeringface and then lose the sight of it in sudden darkness till the gleam ofanother match came to show it up again. He crouched upon the floor andcrept along the whole length of the board, thrusting in his arm to rightand left, while the sweat oozed on his forehead and fell in large dropsinto the long, narrow hollow beneath him. At last he seemed to grow wildwith repeated disappointments, and, starting up, stood looking about himat the four surrounding walls, as if demanding them to give up theirsecrets. Then the match went out, and I heard him stamp his foot withrage before proceeding to put back the boards and shift them into place.Then there came silence, during which I crept on tiptoe to the place Ihad left, judging that he would soon leave his room and return to see ifI had been watching him.
"The box was on the bed, and throwing myself beside it, I grasped itwith one arm and hid my face with the other, and as I lay there I soonbecame conscious of his presence, and I knew he was looking from me tothe box, and weighing the question as to whether I was sleeping soundenough for him to risk a blow. But I did not stir, though I almostexpected a sudden crash on my head, and in another moment he crept away,awed possibly by my superior strength, for I am a much bigger man thanhe, as you must see. When I thought him gone I dropped my arm and lookedup. The room was in total darkness. Bounding to my feet I followed himthrough the halls and came upon him in the room of death. He had thelamp in his hand, and he was standing over his sister with an awful lookon his face.
"'Where have you hidden it?' he hissed to the senseless form before him.'That box is not all you had. Where are the bonds and the stocks, andthe money I helped you to save?'
"He was so absorbed he did not see me. He stooped by the bed and ran hishand along under the mattresses; then he lifted the pillows and lookedunder the bed. Then he rose and trod gingerly over the floor, as if tosee if any of the boards were loose, and peered into the empty closet,and felt with wary hand up and down the mantel sides. At last his eyesfell on the clock, and he was about to lift his hand to it when I said:
"'The clock is all right; you needn't set it; see, it just agrees withmy watch!'
"What a face he turned to me! I tell you it is no fun to meet such eyesin an empty house at one o'clock at night; and if you hadn't told me thepolice would be within call I should have been sick enough of my job, Ican tell you. As it was, I drew back a foot or two and hugged the box alittle more tightly, while he, with a coward's bravado, stepped after meand whispered below his breath:
"'You are making yourself too much at home here. If I want to stop theclock, now that my sister is dead, what is that to you? You have norespect for a house in mourning, and I am free to tell you so.'
"To this tirade I naturally made no answer, and he turned again to theclock. But just as I was asking myself whether I should stop him or lethim go on with his peerings and pokings, the bell rang loudly below. Itwas a welcome interruption to me, but it made him very angry. However,he went down and welcomed, as decently as he knew how, a woman who hadbeen sent to his assistance by Miss Thompson, evidently thinking that itwas time he made some effort to regain my good opinion by avoiding allfurther cause for suspicion.
"At all events, he gave me no more trouble that night, nor since, thoughthe way he haunts the door of that room and the looks he casts inside atthe clock are enough to make one's blood run cold. Do you think thereare any papers hidden there?"
"I have no doubt of it," returned Frank. "Do you remember that the oldwoman's last words were, 'The clock! the clock!' As soon as I can appealto the Surrogate I shall have that piece of furniture examined."
"I shall be mortally interested in knowing what you find there,"commented Mr. Dickey. "If the property comes to much, won't MissThompson and I get something out of it for our trouble?"
"No doubt," said Frank.
"Then we will get married," said he, and looked so beaming, that Frankshook him cordially by the hand.
"But where is Huckins?" the lawyer now inquired. "I didn't see him downbelow."
"He is chewing his nails in the kitchen. He is like a dog with a bone;you cannot get him to leave the house for a moment."
"I must see him," said Frank, and went down the back stairs to the placewhere he had held his previous interview with this angry anddisappointed man.
At first sight of the young lawyer Huckins flushed deeply, but he soongrew pale and obsequious, as if he had held bitter communing withhimself through the last thirty-six hours, and had resolved to restrainhis temper for the future in the presence of the man who understood him.But he could not help a covert sneer from creeping into his voice.
"Have you found the heirs?" he asked, bowing with ill-mannered grace,and pushing forward the only chair there was in the room.
"I shall find them when I need them," rejoined Frank. "Fortunes, howeversmall, do not usually go begging."
"Then you have not found them?" the other declared, a hard glitter oftriumph shining in his sinister eye.
"I have not brought them with me," acknowledged the lawyer, warily.
"Perhaps, then, you won't," suggested Huckins, while he seemed to growinstantly at least two inches in stature. "If they are not in Marstonwhere are they? Dead! And that leaves me the undisputed heir to all mysister's savings."
"I do not believe them dead," protested Frank.
"Why?" Huckins half smiled, half snarled.
"Some token of the fact would have come to you. You are not in a strangeland or in unknown parts; you are living in the old homestead where thislost sister of yours was reared. You would have heard if she had died,at least so it strikes an unprejudiced mind."
"Then let it strike yours to the contrary," snapped out his angrycompanion. "When she went away it was in anger and with the curse of herfather ringing in her ears. Do you see that porch?" And Huckins pointedthrough the cracked windows to a decayed pair of steps leading from theside of the house. "It was there she ran down on her way out. I see hernow, though forty years have passed, and I, a little fellow of six,neither understood nor appreciated what was happening. My father stoodin the window above, and he crie
d out: 'Don't come back! You have chosenyour way, now go in it. Let me never see you nor hear from you again.'And we never did, never! And now you tell me we would have heard if shehad died. You don't know the heart of folks if you say that. Harriet cutherself adrift that day, and she knew it."
"Yet you were acquainted with the fact that she went to Marston."
The indignant light in the brother's eye settled into a look of cunning.
"Oh," he acknowledged carelessly, "we heard so at the time, wheneverything was fresh. But we heard nothing more, nothing."
"Nothing?" Frank repeated. "Not that she had married and had hadchildren?"
"No," was the dogged reply. "My sister up there," and Huckins jerked hishand towards the room where poor Mrs. Wakeham lay, "surmised things, butshe didn't know anything for certain. If she had she might have sent forthese folks long ago. She had time enough in the last ten years we havebeen living in this hole together."
"But," Etheridge now ventured, determined not to be outmatched incunning, "you say she was penurious, too penurious to live comfortablyor to let you do so."
Huckins shrugged his shoulders and for a moment looked balked; then hecried: "The closest women have their whims. If she had known any suchfolks to have been living as you have named, she would have sent forthem."
"If you had let her," suggested Frank.
Huckins turned upon him and his eye flashed. But he very soon cringedagain and attempted a sickly smile, which completed the disgust theyoung lawyer felt for him.
"If I had let her," he repeated; "I, who pined for companionship oranything which would have put a good meal into my mouth! You do not knowme, sir; you are prejudiced against me because I want my earnings, and alittle comfort in my old age."
"If I am prejudiced against you, it is yourself who has made me so,"returned the other. "Your conduct has not been of a nature to win myregard, since I have had the honor of your acquaintance."
"And what has yours been, worming, as you have, into my sister'sconfidence----"
But here Frank hushed him. "We will drop this," said he. "You know me,and I think I know you. I came to give you one last chance to play theman by helping me to find your relatives. I see you have no intention ofdoing so, so I will now proceed to find them without you."
"If they exist," he put in.
"Certainly, if they exist. If they do not----"
"What then?"
"I must have proofs to that effect. I must know that your sister left noheirs but yourself."
"That will take time," he grumbled. "I shall be kept weeks out of myrights."
"The Surrogate will see that you do not suffer."
He shuddered and looked like a fox driven into his hole.
"It is shameful, shameful!" he cried. "It is nothing but a conspiracyto rob me of my own. I suppose I shall not be allowed to live in my ownhouse." And his eyes wandered greedily over the rafters above him.
"Are you sure that it is yours?"
"Yes, yes, damn you!" But the word had been hasty, and he immediatelycaught Frank's sleeve and cringed in contrition. "I beg your pardon," hecried, "perhaps we had better not talk any longer, for I have been tootried for patience. They will not even leave me alone in my grief," hewhined, pointing towards the rooms full, as I have said, of jostlingneighbors and gossips.
"It will be quiet enough after the funeral," Frank assured him.
"Oh! oh! the funeral!" he groaned.
"Is it going to be too extravagant?" Frank insinuated artfully.
Huckins gave the lawyer a look, dropped his eyes and mournfully shookhis head.
"The poor woman would not have liked it," he muttered; "but one must bedecent towards one's own blood."