CHAPTER XVII
SISTER THERESA
There was further information I wished to obtain,and I did not blush to pluck it from Stoddard beforeI let him go that night. Olivia Gladys Armstrong livedin Cincinnati; her father was a wealthy physician atWalnut Hills. Stoddard knew the family, and I askedquestions about them, their antecedents and place ofresidence that were not perhaps impertinent in view ofthe fact that I had never consciously set eyes on theirdaughter in my life. As I look back upon it now myinformation secured at that time, touching the historyand social position of the Armstrongs of Walnut Hills,Cincinnati, seems excessive, but the curiosity which theReverend Paul Stoddard satisfied with so little troubleto himself was of immediate interest and importance.As to the girl in gray I found him far more difficult.She was Marian Devereux; she was a niece of SisterTheresa; her home was in New York, with anotheraunt, her parents being dead; and she was a frequentvisitor at St. Agatha’s.
The wayward Olivia and she were on excellent terms,and when it seemed wisest for that vivacious youngsterto retire from school at the mid-year recess Miss Devereuxhad accompanied her home, ostensibly for a visit,but really to break the force of the blow. It was a prettystory, and enhanced my already high opinion of MissDevereux, while at the same time I admired the unknownOlivia Gladys none the less.
When Stoddard left me I dug out of a drawer mycopy of John Marshall Glenarm’s will and re-read it forthe first time since Pickering gave it to me in NewYork. There was one provision to which I had notgiven a single thought, and when I had smoothed thethin type-written sheets upon the table in my room Iread it over and over again, construing it in a new lightwith every reading.
Provided, further, that in the event of the marriage ofsaid John Glenarm to the said Marian Devereux, or in theevent of any promise or contract of marriage between saidpersons within five years from the date of said John Glenarm’sacceptance of the provisions of this will, the wholeestate shall become the property absolutely of St. Agatha’sSchool at Annandale, Wabana County, Indiana, a corporationunder the laws of said state.
“Bully for the old boy!” I muttered finally, foldingthe copy with something akin to reverence for mygrandfather’s shrewdness in closing so many doors uponhis heirs. It required no lawyer to interpret thisparagraph. If I could not secure his estate by settlingat Glenarm for a year I was not to gain it by marryingthe alternative heir. Here, clearly, was not one of thosesituations so often contrived by novelists, in which theluckless heir presumptive, cut off without a cent, wedsthe pretty cousin who gets the fortune and they livehappily together ever afterward. John Marshall Glenarmhad explicitly provided against any such frustrationof his plans.
“Bully for you, John Marshall Glenarm!” I roseand bowed low to his photograph.
On top of my mail next morning lay a small envelope,unstamped, and addressed to me in a free running hand.
“Ferguson left it,” explained Bates.
I opened and read:
If convenient will Mr. Glenarm kindly look in at St.Agatha’s some day this week at four o’clock. Sister Theresawishes to see him.
I whistled softly. My feelings toward Sister Theresahad been those of utter repugnance and antagonism. Ihad been avoiding her studiously and was not a littlesurprised that she should seek an interview with me.Quite possibly she wished to inquire how soon I expectedto abandon Glenarm House; or perhaps she wished toadmonish me as to the perils of my soul. In any eventI liked the quality of her note, and I was curious toknow why she sent for me; moreover, Marian Devereuxwas her niece and that was wholly in the Sister’s favor.
At four o’clock I passed into St. Agatha territoryand rang the bell at the door of the building where Ihad left Olivia the evening I found her in the chapel.A Sister admitted me, led the way to a small reception-roomwhere, I imagined, the visiting parent was received,and left me. I felt a good deal like a school-boywho has been summoned before a severe master fordiscipline. I was idly beating my hat with my gloveswhen a quick step sounded in the hall and instantly abrown-clad figure appeared in the doorway.
“Mr. Glenarm?”
It was a deep, rich voice, a voice of assurance, avoice, may I say? of the world,—a voice, too, may Iadd? of a woman who is likely to say what she meanswithout ado. The white band at her forehead broughtinto relief two wonderful gray eyes that were alightwith kindliness. She surveyed me a moment, then herlips parted in a smile.
“This room is rather forbidding; if you will comewith me—”
She turned with an air of authority that was a partof her undeniable distinction, and I was seated a momentlater in a pretty sitting-room, whose windowsgave a view of the dark wood and frozen lake beyond.
“I’m afraid, Mr. Glenarm, that you are not disposedto be neighborly, and you must pardon me if I seem tobe pursuing you.”
Her smile, her voice, her manner were charming. Ihad pictured her a sour old woman, who had hiddenaway from a world that had offered her no pleasure.
“The apologies must all be on my side, Sister Theresa.I have been greatly occupied since coming here,—distressed and perplexed even.”
“Our young ladies treasure the illusion that thereare ghosts at your house” she said, with a smile thatdisposed of the matter.
She folded her slim white hands on her knees andspoke with a simple directness.
“Mr. Glenarm, there is something I wish to say toyou, but I can say it only if we are to be friends. Ihave feared you might look upon us here as enemies.”
“That is a strong word,” I replied evasively.
“Let me say to you that I hope very much that nothingwill prevent your inheriting all that Mr. Glenarmwished you to have from him.”
“Thank you; that is both kind and generous,” I saidwith no little surprise.
“Not in the least. I should be disloyal to your grandfather,who was my friend and the friend of my family,if I did not feel kindly toward you and wish you well.And I must say for my niece—”
“Miss Devereux.” I found a certain pleasure in pronouncingher name.
“Miss Devereux is very greatly disturbed over thegood intentions of your grandfather in placing her namein his will. You can doubtless understand how uncomfortablea person of any sensibility would be under thecircumstances. I’m sorry you have never met her. Sheis a very charming young woman whose happiness doesnot, I may say, depend on other people’s money.”
She had never told, then! I smiled at the recollectionof our interviews.
“I am sure that is true, Sister Theresa.”
“Now I wish to speak to you about a matter of somedelicacy. It is, I understand perfectly, no business ofmine how much of a fortune Mr. Glenarm left. Butthis matter has been brought to my attention in a disagreeableway. Your grandfather established thisschool; he gave most of the money for these buildings.I had other friends who offered to contribute, but he insistedon doing it all. But now Mr. Pickering insiststhat the money—or part of it at least—was only a loan.”
“Yes; I understand.”
“Mr. Pickering tells me that he has no alternative inthe matter; that the law requires him to collect thismoney as a debt due the estate.”
“That is undoubtedly true, as a general proposition.He told me in New York that he had a claim againstyou for fifty thousand dollars.”
“Yes; that is the amount. I wish to say to you, Mr.Glenarm, that if it is necessary I can pay that amount.”
“Pray do not trouble about it, Sister Theresa. Thereare a good many things about my grandfather’s affairsthat I don’t understand, but I’m not going to see anold friend of his swindled. There’s more in all thisthan appears. My grandfather seems to have mislaidor lost most of his assets before he died. And yet hehad the reputation of being a pretty cautious businessman.”
“The impression is abroad, as you must know, thatyour grandfather concealed his fortune before hisdeath. The people hereabouts believe so; and Mr. Pickering,the executor, has been unable to trace it.”
“Yes, I belie
ve Mr. Pickering has not been able tosolve the problem,” I said and laughed.
“But, of course, you and he will coöperate in an effortto find the lost property.”
She bent forward slightly; her eyes, as they metmine, examined me with a keen interest.
“Why shouldn’t I be frank with you, Sister Theresa?I have every reason for believing Arthur Pickering ascoundrel. He does not care to coöperate with me insearching for this money. The fact is that he verymuch wishes to eliminate me as a factor in the settlementof the estate. I speak carefully; I know exactlywhat I am saying.”
She bowed her head slightly and was silent for a moment.The silence was the more marked from the factthat the hood of her habit concealed her face.
“What you say is very serious.”
“Yes, and his offense is equally serious. It mayseem odd for me to be saying this to you when I am astranger; when you may be pardoned for having novery high opinion of me.”
She turned her face to me,—it was singularly gentleand refined,—not a face to associate with an idea ofself-seeking or duplicity.
“I sent for you, Mr. Glenarm, because I had a verygood opinion of you; because, for one reason, you arethe grandson of your grandfather,”—and the friendlylight in her gray eyes drove away any lingering doubtI may have had as to her sincerity. “I wished to warnyou to have a care for your own safety. I don’t warnyou against Arthur Pickering alone, but against thecountryside. The idea of a hidden fortune is alluring;a mysterious house and a lost treasure make a very enticingcombination. I fancy Mr. Glenarm did not realizethat he was creating dangers for the people hewished to help.”
She was silent again, her eyes bent meditatively uponme; then she spoke abruptly.
“Mr. Pickering wishes to marry my niece.”
“Ah! I have been waiting to hear that. I am exceedinglyglad to know that he has so noble an ambition.But Miss Devereux isn’t encouraging him, as near asI can make out. She refused to go to California withhis party—I happen to know that.”
“That whole California episode would have beenamusing if it had not been ridiculous. Marian neverhad the slightest idea of going with him; but she issometimes a little—shall I say perverse?—”
“Please do! I like the word—and the quality!”
“—and Mr. Pickering’s rather elaborate methods ofwooing—”
“He’s as heavy as lead!” I declared.
“—amuse Marian up to a certain point; then they annoyher. He has implied pretty strongly that the claimagainst me could be easily adjusted if Marian marrieshim. But she will never marry him, whether she benefitsby your grandfather’s will or however that may be!”
“I should say not,” I declared with a warmth thatcaused Sister Theresa to sweep me warily with thosewonderful gray eyes. “But first he expects to find thisfortune and endow Miss Devereux with it. That is apart of the scheme. And my own interest in the estatemust be eliminated before he can bring that conditionabout. But, Sister Theresa, I am not so easily got ridof as Arthur Pickering imagines. My staying qualities,which were always weak in the eyes of my family, havebeen braced up a trifle.”
“Yes.” I thought pleasure and hope were expressedin the monosyllable, and my heart warmed to her.
“Sister Theresa, you and I are understanding eachother much better than I imagined we should,”—andwe both laughed, feeling a real sympathy growing betweenus.
“Yes; I believe we are,”—and the smile lighted herface again.
“So I can tell you two things. The first is that ArthurPickering will never find my grandfather’s lostfortune, assuming that any exists. The second is thatin no event will he marry your niece.”
“You speak with a good deal of confidence,” she said,and laughed a low murmuring laugh. I thought therewas relief in it. “But I didn’t suppose Marian’s affairsinterested you.”
“They don’t, Sister Theresa. Her affairs are not ofthe slightest importance,—but she is!”
There was frank inquiry in her eyes now.
“But you don’t know her,—you have missed youropportunity.”
“To be sure, I don’t know her; but I know OliviaGladys Armstrong. She’s a particular friend of mine,—we have chased rabbits together, and she told me agreat deal. I have formed a very good opinion of MissDevereux in that way. Oh, that note you wrote aboutOlivia’s intrusions beyond the wall! I should thankyou for it,—but I really didn’t mind.”
“A note? I never wrote you a note until to-day!”
“Well, some one did!” I said; then she smiled.
“Oh, that must have been Marian. She was alwaysOlivia’s loyal friend!”
“I should say so!”
Sister Theresa laughed merrily.
“But you shouldn’t have known Olivia,—it is unpardonable!If she played tricks upon you, you should nothave taken advantage of them to make her acquaintance.That wasn’t fair to me!”
“I suppose not! But I protest against this deportation.The landscape hereabouts is only so much sky,snow and lumber without her.”
“We miss her, too,” replied Sister Theresa. “We haveless to do!”
“And still I protest!” I declared, rising. “SisterTheresa, I thank you with all my heart for what youhave said to me,—for the disposition to say it! Andthis debt to the estate is something, I promise you, thatshall not trouble you.”
“Then there’s a truce between us! We are not enemiesat all now, are we?”
“No; for Olivia’s sake, at least, we shall be friends.”
I went home and studied the time-table.