One Of Them

“‘I should say that the sum was a high one, but if the individual acquitted himself with all the integrity and all the delicacy the situation demanded, never by even an implication involving any one who trusted him, conducting the transaction to its end on his own responsibility and by his own unaided devices, why, then, it is more than probable that I would judge the reward to be insufficient.’

“So much, dear papa, will put you in possession of the treaty then ratified between us. I was to supply all the funds for present expenses; Mr. Trover to incur all the perils. He was invested with full powers, in fact, to qualify himself for Botany Bay; and I promised to forward his views towards a ticket of leave if the worst were to happen him. It was a very grave treaty very laughingly and playfully conducted. Trover had just tact enough for the occasion, and was most jocose wherever the point was a perilous one. From the letters and papers in my possession, he found details quite ample enough to give him an insight into the nature of the property, and also, what he deemed of no small importance, some knowledge of the character of this Mr. Winthrop, Clara’s uncle. This person appeared to be an easy-tempered, good-natured man, not difficult to deal with, nor in any way given to suspicion. Trover was very prompt in his proceedings. On the evening after our conversation he showed me the draft of Hawke’s will, dated at Jersey, about eight days before his death. It was then, for the first time, I learned that Trover knew the whole story, and who I was. This rather disconcerted me at first. There are few things more disconcerting than to find out that a person who has for a long intercourse never alluded to your past history, has been all the while fully acquainted with it. The way he showed his knowledge of the subject was characteristic In pointing out to me Hawke’s signature, he remarked, —

“‘I have made the witnesses – Towers, who was executed, and Collier, who, I have heard, died in Australia.’

“‘How familiar you are with these names, sir!’ said I, curiously.

“‘Yes, madam,’ said he; ‘I edited a well-known weekly newspaper at that time, and got some marvellous details from a fellow who was on the spot.’

“I assure you, papa, though I am not given to tremors, I shuddered at having for my accomplice a man that I could not deceive as to my past life. It was to be such an open game between us that, in surrendering all the advantages of my womanly arts, I felt I was this man’s slave, and yet he was a poor creature. He had the technical craft for simulating a handwriting and preparing a false document, but was miserably weak in providing for all the assaults that must be directed against its authenticity.

“His plan was, armed with what he called an attested copy of H.‘s will, to set out for America and discover this Mr. Winthrop. Cleverly enough, he had bethought him of securing this gentleman’s co-operation by making him a considerable inheritor under the will. In fact, he charged the estate with a very handsome sum in his favor, and calculated on all the advantages of this bribe; and without knowing it, Mr. Winthrop was to be ‘one of us.’

“He sailed in due time, but I heard no more of him; and, indeed, I began to suspect that the two bank-notes I had given him, of one hundred each, had been very unprofitably invested, when by this day’s post a letter reaches me to say that success had attended him throughout. By a mere accidental acquaintance on a railroad, he ‘fell in’ with – that’s his phrase, which may mean that he stole – some very curious documents which added to his credit with Winthrop. He describes this gentleman as exactly what he looked for, and with this advantage, that having latterly been somewhat unfortunate in speculation, he was the more eager to repair his fortune by the legacy. He says that only one embarrassing circumstance occurred, and this was that Winthrop determined at once on coming over to England, so that the authenticity of the will should be personally ascertained by him, and all his own proceedings in the matter be made sure. ‘For this purpose,’ he writes, ‘we shall sail from this place by the first steamer for Liverpool, where let me have a letter addressed to the Albion to say where you are to be found. Winthrop’s first object will be to meet you, and you must bethink you well what place you will deem most suitable for this purpose. Of course the more secluded and private the better. I have explained to him that so overwhelmed were you by the terrible event of H.‘s death you had never entered the world since; and, in fact, so averse to anything that might recall the past that you had never administered to the will, nor assumed any of your rights to property, and it would be well for him, if he could, to arouse you out of this deadly lethargy, and call you back to something like existence. This explained why I had taken the journey out to America to meet him.’ You will perceive, papa, that Mr. Trover knows how to lie ‘with the circumstance,’ and is not unitarian in his notions of falsehood.

“I am far from liking this visit of Mr. Winthrop. I wish from my heart that his scruples had been less nice, and that he had been satisfied to eat his cake without inquiring whether every one else had got his share; but, as he is coming, we must make the best of it. And now, what advice have you to give me? Of course, we cannot suffer him to come here.”

“Certainly not, Loo. We must have out the map, and think it over. Does Trover tell you what amount the property may be worth?”

“He says that there are three lots. Two have been valued at something over a million of dollars; the third, if the railroad be carried through it, will be more valuable still. It is, he says, an immense estate and in high productiveness. Let us, however, think of our cards, papa, and not the stake; there is much to provide. I have no certificate of my marriage with Hawke.”

“That must be thought of,” said he, musingly.

“Clara, too, must be thought of, – married, if possible, to some one going abroad, – to Australia or New Zealand. Perhaps O’Shea.” And she burst out a-laughing at the thought.

“Or Paten. I ‘d say Ludlow – ”

A look of sickly aversion crossed his daughter’s face at the suggestion, and she said, —

“Nothing on earth would induce, me to consent to it.”

The Captain might have regarded this as a woman’s weakness, but he said nothing.

“It will be very difficult for me to get away at this moment too,” said she, after a pause. “I don’t fancy being absent while young Heathcote is here. He will be making all manner of inquiries about Clara, – where she is, with whom, and for what? If I were on the spot, I could suppress such perquisitions.”

“After all, dear Loo, the other is the great event I conclude, if all goes smoothly about this work, you ‘ll never dream of the marriage with Sir William?”

“Perhaps not,” said she, roguishly. “I am not so desperately in love as to do an imprudence. There is, however, much to be thought of, papa. In a few days more Ludlow is to be back here with my letters, more than ever necessary at this moment, when any scandal might be fatal. If he were to know anything of this accession of fortune, his demands would be insupportable.”

“No doubt of that. At the same time, if he merely hears that your marriage with the Baronet is broken off, he will be more tractable. How are you to obtain these letters?”

“I don’t know,” said she, with a stolid look.

“Are you to buy them?”

“I don’t know.”

“He will scarcely surrender them out of any impulse of generosity?”

“I don’t know,” said she, again; and over her features there was a sickly pallor that changed all their expression, and made her look even years older than she was. He looked at her compassionately, for there was that in her face that might well have challenged pity.

“But, Loo, dearest,” said he, encouragingly, “place the affair in my hands, and see if I cannot bring it to a good ending.”

“He makes it a condition to treat with none but myself, and there is a cowardice in this of which he knows all the advantage.”

“It must be a question of money, after all. It is a matter of figures.”

“He would say not. At the very moment of driving his hardest bargain he would interpose some reference to what he is pleased to call ‘his feelings.’ I told him that even Shylock did not insult his victim with a mock sympathy, nor shed false tears over the pain his knife was about to inflict.”

“It was not the way to conciliate him, Loo.”

“Conciliate him! Oh, how you know him!” She pressed her hands over her face as she spoke, and when she withdrew them the cheeks were scalded with tears.

“Come, come, Loo, this is scarcely like yourself.”

“There, it’s over now,” said she, smiling, with a half-sad look, as she pushed her hair back, as though to suffer the cool air to bathe her forehead. “Oh dear!” sighed she out, “if I only could have foreseen all the perils before me, I might have borne with George Ogden, and lived and died what the world calls respectable.”

He gave a little sigh too, which might have meant that he agreed with her, or that the alternative was a hard one, or that respectability was a very expensive thing for people of small means, or a little of all three together, which was most probable, since the Captain rarely dealt in motives that were not sufficiently mixed.

“And now, papa,” said she, “use your most ingenious devices to show me how I am to answer all these engagements, and while I meet Mr. Winthrop in Switzerland, contrive also to be on guard here, and on outpost duty with Mr. Ludlow Paten.”

“You ‘ll do it, Loo, – you ‘ll do it, or nobody else will,” said he, sipping his iced drink, and gazing on her approvingly.

“What would you say to Bregenz for our rendezvous with Winthrop?” said she, bending over the map. “It is as quiet and forgotten a spot as any I know of.”

“So it is, Loo; and one of the very few where the English never go, or, at least, never sojourn.”

“I wish we could manage to find a small house or a cottage there. I should like to be what dramatists call ‘discovered’ in a humbly furnished chamber, living with my dear old father, venerable in years and virtues.”

“Well, it ought not to be difficult to manage. If you like, I ‘ll set off there and make the arrangements. I could start this evening.”

“How good of you! Let me think a little over it, and I will decide. It would be a great comfort to me to have you here when Charles Heathcote comes. I might need your assistance in many ways, but perhaps – Yes, you had better go; and a pressing entreaty on your part for me to hasten to the death-bed of my ‘poor aunt’ can be the reason for my own hurried departure. Is it not provoking how many embarrassments press at the same moment? It is an attack front, rear, and on the flanks.”

“You ‘re equal to it, dear, – you ‘re equal to it,” said he, with the same glance of encouragement.

“I almost think I should go with you, papa, – take French leave of these good people, and evacuate the fortress, – if it were not that next week I expect Ludlow to be back here with the letters, and I cannot neglect that. Can you explain it to me?” cried she, more eagerly, – “there is not one in this family for whom I entertain the slightest sense of regard, – they are all less than indifferent to me, – and yet I would do anything, endure anything, rather than they should learn my true history, and know all about my past life; and this, too, with the certainty that we were never to meet again.”

“That is pride, Loo, – mere pride.”

“No,” said she, tremulously, “it is shame. The consciousness that one’s name is never to be uttered but in scorn in those places where once it was always spoken of in honor, – the thought that the fair fame we had done so much to build up should be a dreary ruin, is one of the saddest the heart can feel; for, let the world say what it will, we often give all our energies to hypocrisy, and throw passion into what we meant to be mere acting. Well, well, enough of moralizing, now for action. You will want money for this trip, papa; see if there be enough there.” And she opened her writing-desk, and pushed it towards him.

The Captain took out his double eye-glass, and then, with due deliberation, proceeded to count over a roll of English notes fresh from the bank.

“In funds, I see, Loo,” said he, smiling.

“It is part of the last three hundred I possess in the world. I drew it out yesterday, and, as I signed the check, I felt as might a sailor going over the side as his ship was sinking. Do you know,” said she, hurriedly, “it takes a deal of courage to lead the life I have done.”

“No doubt, – no doubt,” muttered he, as he went on counting. “Forty-five, fifty, fifty-five – ”

“Take them all, papa; I have no need of them. Before the month ends I mean to be a millionnaire or ‘My Lady.’”

“I hope not the latter, Loo; I hope sincerely not, dearest. It would be a cruel sacrifice, and really for nothing.”

“A partnership in an old-established house,” said she, with a mocking laugh, “is always something; but I won’t prejudge events, nor throw my cards on the table till I have lost the game. And à propos to losing the game, suppose that luck should turn against us, – suppose that we fail to supply some essential link in this chain of fortune, – suppose that Trover should change his mind and sell us, – suppose, in short, anything adverse you please, – what means are remaining to you, papa? Have you enough to support us in some cheap unfrequented spot at home or abroad?”

“I could get together about two hundred and forty pounds a year, not more.”

“One could live upon that, could n’t one?” asked she.

“Yes, in a fashion. With a number of privations you have never experienced, self-denial in fifty things you have never known to be luxuries, with a small house and small habits and small acquaintances, one could rub through, but no more.”

“Oh, how I should like to try it!” cried she, clasping her hands together. “Oh, what would I not give to pass one year – one entire year of life – without the ever-present terror of exposure, shame, and scorn, – to feel that when I lie down to rest at night a knock at the street door should not throw me into the cold perspiration of ague, or the coming of the postman set my heart a-throbbing, as though the missive were a sentence on me! Why cannot I have peace like this?”

“Poverty has no peace, my dear Loo. It is the poorest of all wars, for it is the pettiest of all objects. It would break my heart to see you engaged in such a conflict.”

And the Captain suffered his eyes to range over the handsome room and its fine furniture, while his thoughts wandered to a French cook, and that delicious “Château Margaux” he had tasted yesterday.

Did she read what was passing in his mind, as, with a touch of scorn in her manner, she said, “Doubtless you know the world better,” and left the room?