Day had broken before the several
denizens of the Wilderness had
all returned to their homes,
the police
finished their inquiries, and all come back to its normal
quiet. Mrs. Westmacott had been left sleeping peacefully
with a small chloral draught to steady her nerves and a
handkerchief soaked in arnica bound round her head. It
was with some surprise, therefore, that the Admiral
received a note from her about ten o'clock, asking him to
be good enough to step in to her. He hurried in, fearing
that she might have taken some turn for the worse, but he
was reassured to find her sitting up in her bed, with
Clara and Ida Walker in attendance upon her. She had
removed the handkerchief, and had put on a little cap
with pink ribbons, and a maroon dressing-jacket, daintily
fulled at the neck and sleeves.
"My dear friend," said she
as he entered, "I wish to make
a last few remarks to you. No,
no," she continued, laughing,
as she saw a look of dismay upon
his face. "I shall not dream
of dying for at least another
thirty years. A woman should
be ashamed to die before she
is seventy. I wish, Clara, that
you would ask your father to
step up. And you, Ida, just pass
me my cigarettes, and open me
a bottle of stout."
"Now then," she continued,
as the doctor joined their party. "I
don't quite know what I ought
to say to you, Admiral. You want
some very plain speaking to."
"'Pon
my word, ma'am,
I don't know
what you are
talking about."
"The
idea of you
at your age
talking of going to sea, and
leaving that dear, patient little
wife of yours at home, who has
seen nothing of you all her life!
It's all very well for you. You
have the life, and the change,
and the excitement, but you don't
think of her eating her heart
out in a dreary London lodging.
You men are all the same."
"Well,
ma'am, since
you know so
much, you probably
know also
that I have sold my pension.
How am I to live if I do not
turn my hand to work?"
Mrs. Westmacott produced a
large registered envelope from
beneath the sheets and tossed
it over to the old seaman.
"That
excuse won't
do. There are
your pension
papers. Just
see if they are right."
He broke the seal, and out
tumbled the very papers which
he had made over to McAdam two
days before.
"But what am I to do with these
now?" he cried in bewilderment.
"You
will put them
in a safe place,
or get a friend
to do
so, and, if you do your duty,
you will go to your wife and
beg her pardon for having even
for an instant thought of leaving
her."
The
Admiral passed
his hand over
his rugged
forehead. "This
is very good of you, ma'am" said
he, "very good and kind, and
I know that you are a staunch
friend, but for all that these
papers mean money, and though
we may have been in broken water
lately, we are not quite in such
straits as to have to signal
to our friends. When we do, ma'am,
there's no one we would look
to sooner than to you."
"Don't be ridiculous!" said
the widow. "You know nothing
whatever about it, and yet you
stand there laying down the law.
I'll have my way in the matter,
and you shall take the papers,
for it is no favor that I am
doing you, but simply a restoration
of stolen property."
"How
that, ma'am?"
"I
am just going
to explain,
though you might take a lady's
word for it without asking any
questions. Now, what I am going
to say is just between you four,
and must go no farther. I have
my own reasons for wishing to
keep it from the police. Who
do you think it was who struck
me last night, Admiral?"
"Some
villain, ma'am.
I don't know
his name."
"But
I do. It was
the same man
who ruined
or tried to
ruin
your son. It was my only brother,
Jeremiah."
"Ah!"
"I
will tell you
about him--or
a little about him, for he has
done much which I would not care
to talk of, nor you to listen
to. He was always a villain,
smooth-spoken and plausible,
but a dangerous, subtle villain
all the same. If I have some
hard thoughts about mankind I
can trace them back to the childhood
which I spent with my brother.
He is my only living relative,
for my other brother, Charles's
father, was killed in the Indian
mutiny.
"Our father was rich, and when
he died he made a good provision
both for Jeremiah and for me.
He knew Jeremiah and he mistrusted
him, however; so instead of giving
him all that he meant him to
have he handed me over a part
of it, telling me, with what
was almost his dying breath,
to hold it in trust for my brother,
and to use it in his behalf when
he should have squandered or
lost all that he had. This arrangement
was meant to be a secret between
my father and myself, but unfortunately
his words were overheard by the
nurse, and she repeated them
afterwards to my brother, so
that he came to know that I held
some money in trust for him.
I suppose tobacco will not harm
my head, Doctor? Thank you, then
I shall trouble you for the matches,
Ida." She lit a cigarette, and
leaned back upon the pillow,
with the blue wreaths curling
from her lips.
"I
cannot tell
you how often
he has attempted to get that
money from me. He has bullied,
cajoled, threatened, coaxed,
done all that a man could do.
I still held it with the presentiment
that a need for it would come.
When I heard of this villainous
business, his flight, and his
leaving his partner to face the
storm, above all that my old
friend had been driven to surrender
his income in order to make up
for my brother's defalcations,
I felt that now indeed I had
a need for it. I sent in Charles
yesterday to Mr. McAdam, and
his client, upon hearing the
facts of the case, very graciously
consented to give back the papers,
and to take the money which he
had advanced. Not a word of thanks
to me, Admiral. I tell you that
it was very cheap benevolence,
for it was all done with his
own money, and how could I use
it better?
"I
thought that
I should probably
hear from him soon, and I did.
Last evening there was handed
in a note of the usual whining,
cringing tone. He had come back
from abroad at the risk of his
life and liberty, just in order
that he might say good-bye to
the only sister he ever had,
and to entreat my forgiveness
for any pain which he had caused
me. He would never trouble me
again, and he begged only that
I would hand over to him the
sum which I held in trust for
him. That, with what he had already,
would be enough to start him
as an honest man in the new world,
when he would ever remember and
pray for the dear sister who
had been his savior. That was
the style of the letter, and
it ended by imploring me to leave
the window-latch open, and to
be in the front room at three
in the morning, when he would
come to receive my last kiss
and to bid me farewell.
"Bad
as he was,
I could not,
when he trusted me, betray him.
I said nothing, but I was there
at the hour. He entered through
the window, and implored me to
give him the money. He was terribly
changed; gaunt, wolfish, and
spoke like a madman. I told him
that I had spent the money. He
gnashed his teeth at me, and
swore it was his money. I told
him that I had spent it on him.
He asked me how. I said in trying
to make him an honest man, and
in repairing the results of his
villainy. He shrieked out a curse,
and pulling something out of
the breast of his coat--a loaded
stick, I think--he struck me
with it, and I remembered nothing
more."
"The blackguard!" cried the
Doctor, "but the police must
be hot upon his track."
"I fancy not," Mrs. Westmacott
answered calmly. "As my brother
is a particularly tall, thin
man, and as the police are looking
for a short, fat one, I do not
think that it is very probable
that they will catch him. It
is best, I think, that these
little family matters should
be adjusted in private."
"My dear ma'am," said the Admiral, "if
it is indeed this man's money
that has bought back my pension,
then I can have no scruples about
taking it. You have brought sunshine
upon us, ma'am, when the clouds
were at their darkest, for here
is my boy who insists upon returning
the money which I got. He can
keep it now to pay his debts.
For what you have done I can
only ask God to bless you, ma'am,
and as to thanking you I can't
even----"
"Then pray don't try," said
the widow. "Now run away, Admiral,
and make your peace with Mrs.
Denver. I am sure if I were she
it would be a long time before
I should forgive you. As for
me, I am going to America when
Charles goes. You'll take me
so far, won't you, Ida? There
is a college being built in Denver
which is to equip the woman of
the future for the struggle of
life, and especially for her
battle against man. Some months
ago the committee offered me
a responsible situation upon
the staff, and I have decided
now to accept it, for Charles's
marriage removes the last tie
which binds me to England. You
will write to me sometimes, my
friends, and you will address
your letters to Professor Westmacott,
Emancipation College, Denver.
From there I shall watch how
the glorious struggle goes in
conservative old England, and
if I am needed you will find
me here again fighting in the
forefront of the fray. Good-bye--but
not you, girls; I have still
a word I wish to say to you.
"Give me your hand, Ida, and
yours, Clara," said she when
they were alone. "Oh, you naughty
little pusses, aren't you ashamed
to look me in the face? Did you
think--did you really think that
I was so very blind, and could
not see your little plot? You
did it very well, I must say
that, and really I think that
I like you better as you are.
But you had all your pains for
nothing, you little conspirators,
for I give you my word that I
had quite made up my mind not
to have him."
And so within a few weeks our
little ladies from their observatory
saw a mighty bustle in the Wilderness,
when two-horse carriages came,
and coachmen with favors, to
bear away the twos who were destined
to come back one. And they themselves
in their crackling silk dresses
went across, as invited, to the
big double wedding breakfast
which was held in the house of
Doctor Walker. Then there was
health-drinking, and laughter,
and changing of dresses, and
rice-throwing when the carriages
drove up again, and two more
couples started on that journey
which ends only with life itself.
Charles Westmacott is now a
flourishing ranchman in the western
part of Texas, where he and his
sweet little wife are the two
most popular persons in all that
county. Of their aunt they see
little, but from time to time
they see notices in the papers
that there is a focus of light
in Denver, where mighty thunderbolts
are being forged which will one
day bring the dominant sex upon
their knees. The Admiral and
his wife still live at number
one, while Harold and Clara have
taken number two, where Doctor
Walker continues to reside. As
to the business, it had been
reconstructed, and the energy
and ability of the junior partner
had soon made up for all the
ill that had been done by his
senior. Yet with his sweet and
refined home atmosphere he is
able to realize his wish, and
to keep himself free from the
sordid aims and base ambitions
which drag down the man whose
business lies too exclusively
in the money market of the vast
Babylon. As he goes back every
evening from the crowds of Throgmorton
Street to the tree-lined peaceful
avenues of Norwood, so he has
found it possible in spirit also
to do one's duties amidst the
babel of the City, and yet to
live beyond it. |