Part 4 (1/2)
”I do not know where she came from, nor where she went. She was most uncommonly beautiful.”
”Are the telegraph wires working south?”
”Why bless you, sir! they are down in several places, from the weight of the ice, so I heard the station operator say, just before you came in.”
As Dr. Hargrove walked away, an expression of stern indignation replaced the benign look that usually reigned over his n.o.ble features, and he now resolutely closed all the avenues of compa.s.sion, along which divers fallacious excuses and charitable conjectures had marched into his heart, and stifled for a time the rigorous verdict of reason.
He had known from the moment he learned the tin box was missing, that only the frail, fair fingers of Minnie Merle could have abstracted it, but justice demanded that he should have indisputable proof of her presence in V---- after twelve o'clock, for he had not left the library until that hour, and knew that the train pa.s.sed through at eleven.
Conviction is the pitiless work of unbiased reason, but faith is the acceptance thereof, by will, and he would not wholly believe, until there was no alternative. _Falsus in uno, falsus in omnibus_, and quite naturally Dr. Hargrove began to discredit the entire narrative of wrongs, which had attained colossal proportions from her delineation, and to censure himself most harshly for having suffered this dazzling Delilah to extort from him a solemn promise of secrecy; for, unworthy of sympathy as he now deemed her, his rigid rect.i.tude would not permit him to regard that unworthiness as sufficient justification for abrogating his plighted word. Suspicious facts which twelve hours before had been hushed by the soft spell of her rich plaintive voice, now started up clamorous and accusing, and the pastor could not avoid beholding the discrepancy between her pleas of poverty and friendlessness, and the costly appearance of her apparel,--coupled with her refusal to acquaint him with her means of maintenance.
If, as she had averred, the stolen license was--with the exception of his verbal testimony--the sole proof of her marriage, why was she not satisfied with the copy given to her unless for some unrighteous motive she desired to possess in order to destroy all evidence?
Surmise, with crooked and uncertain finger, had pointed to New York--whose broad deep bosom shelters so many helpless human waifs--as her probable place of destination, and had the telegraph-wires been in successful operation he would have hazarded the experiment of requesting her arrest at the terminus of the railway; but this was impracticable, and each succeeding hour aided in obliterating the only clue in his possession.
The universal observation of man, ages ago, simmered down and crystallized into the adage, ”Misfortunes never come singly;” and it is here respectfully submitted--that startling episodes, unexpected incidents quite as rarely travel alone. Do surprises gravitate into groups, or are certain facts binary?
Sometimes for a quarter of a century the sluggish stream of life oozes by, bearing no hint of deeds, or faces,--that perchance shed glory, or perhaps lent gloom to the far past,--a past well-nigh forgotten and inurned in the gathering grey of time,--and suddenly without premonition, the slow monotonous current ripples and swells into waves that bear to our feet fateful countenances, unwelcome as grave-ghouls,--and the world grows garrulous of incidents that once more galvanize the shrouded Bygone. For four years the minister had received no tidings of those whom he had so reluctantly joined in the bonds of wedlock, and not even a reminiscence of that singular bridal party had floated into his quiet parsonage study; but within twenty-four hours he seemed destined to garner a plentiful harvest of disagreeable data for future speculation. He had not yet reached his lawyer's office, when, hearing his name p.r.o.nounced vociferously, Dr.
Hargrove looked around and saw the postmaster standing in his door and calling on him to enter.
”Pardon me, my dear sir, for shouting after you so unceremoniously; but I saw you were not coming in, and knew it would promote your interest to pay me a visit. Fine day at last, after all the rain and murky weather. This crisp, frosty air sharpens one's wits,--a sort of atmospheric pumice, don't you see, and tempts me to drive a good bargain. How much will you give for a letter that has travelled half around the world, and had as many adventures as Robinson Crusoe, or Madame Pfeiffer?”
He took from a drawer a dingy and much-defaced envelope, whose address was rather indistinct from having encountered a oath on its journey.
”Are you sure that it is for me?” asked the minister, trying to decipher the uncertain characters.
”Are there two of your name? This is intended for Reverend Peyton Hargrove of St. ---- Church -- V----, United States of America. It was enclosed to me by the Postmaster-General, who says that it arrived last week in the long-lost mail of the steams.h.i.+p _Algol_, which you doubtless recollect was lost some time ago,--plying between New York and Havre; It now appears that a Dutch sailing vessel bound for Tasmania--wherever that may be; somewhere among the cannibals, I presume--boarded her after she had been deserted by the crew, and secured the mail bags, intending to put in along the Spanish coast and land them, but stress of weather drove them so far out to sea, that they sailed on to some point in Africa, and as the postmasters in that progressive and enlightened region did not serve their apprentices.h.i.+p in the United States Postal Bureau, you perceive that your doc.u.ment has not had 'despatch.' If salt water is ever a preservative, your news ought not to be stale.”
”Thank you. I hope the contents will prove worthy of the care and labour of its transmission. I see it is dated Paris--one year ago, nearly. I am much obliged by your kind courtesy. Good-day.”
Dr. Hargrove walked on, and, somewhat disappointed in not receiving a moiety of information by way of recompense, the postmaster added:
”If you find it is not your letter bring it back, and I will start it on another voyage of discovery, for it certainly deserves to get home.”
”There is no doubt whatever about it. It was intended for me.”
Unfolding the letter, he had glanced at the signature, and now hurrying homeward, read as follows:
”PARIS, _February 1st_,
”REV. PEYTON HARGROVE,--Hoping that, while entirely ignorant of the facts and circ.u.mstances, you unintentionally inflicted upon me an incalculable injury, I reluctantly address you with reference to a subject fraught with inexpressible pain and humiliation. Through your agency the happiness and welfare of my only child, and the proud and unblemished name of a n.o.ble family, have been wellnigh wrecked; but my profound reverence for your holy office, persuades me to believe that you were unconsciously the dupe of unprincipled and designing parties. When my son Cuthbert entered ---- University, he was all that my fond heart desired, all that his sainted mother could have hoped, and no young gentleman on the wide Continent gave fairer promise of future usefulness and distinction; but one year of demoralizing a.s.sociation with dissipated and reckless youths undermined the fair moral and intellectual structure I had so laboriously raised, and in an unlucky hour he fell a victim to alluring vices. Intemperance gradually gained such supremacy that he was threatened with expulsion, and to crown all other errors he was, while intoxicated, inveigled into a so-called marriage with a young but notorious girl, whose only claim was her pretty face, while her situation was hopelessly degraded. This creature, Minnie Merle, had an infirm grandmother, who, in order to save the reputation of the unfortunate girl, appealed so adroitly to Cuthbert's high sense of honour, that her arguments, emphasized by the girl's beauty and helplessness, prevailed over reason, and--I may add--decency and one day when almost mad with brandy and morphine he consented to call her his wife. Neither was of age, and my son was not only a minor (lacking two months of being twenty), but on that occasion was utterly irrational and irresponsible, as I am prepared to prove. They intended to conceal the whole shameful affair from me, but the old grandmother--fearing that some untoward circ.u.mstance might mar the scheme of possessing the ample fortune she well knew my boy expected to control--wrote me all the disgraceful facts, imploring my clemency, and urging me to remove Cuthbert from a.s.sociates outside of his cla.s.smates, who were dragging him to ruin. If you, my dear sir, are a father (and I hope you are), paternal sympathy will enable you to realize approximately the grief, indignation, almost despairing rage into which I was plunged. Having informed myself through a special agent sent to the University of the utter unworthiness and disreputable character of the connection forced upon me, I telegraphed for Cuthbert, alleging some extraneous cause for requiring his presence. Three days after his arrival at home, I extorted a full confession from him, and we were soon upon the Atlantic. For a time I feared that inebriation had seriously impaired his intellect, but, thank G.o.d! temperate habits and a good const.i.tution finally prevailed, and when a year after we left America Cuthbert realized all that he had hazarded during his temporary insanity, he was so overwhelmed with mortification and horror that he threatened to destroy himself. Satisfied that he was more 'sinned against, than sinning,' I yet endeavoured to deal justly with the unprincipled authors of the stain upon my family, and employed a discreet agent to negotiate with them, and to try to effect some compromise. The old woman went out to California; the young one refused all overtures, and for a time disappeared, but, as I am reliably informed, is now living in New York, supported no one knows exactly by whom. Recently she has made an imperious demand for the recognition of a child, who she declares shall one day inherit the Laurance estate; but I have certain facts in my possession which invalidate this claim, and if necessary can produce a certificate to prove that the birth of the child occurred only seven months after the date of the ceremony, which she contends made her Cuthbert's wife. She rejects the abundant pecuniary provision which has been repeatedly offered, and in her last impertinent and insanely abusive communication, threatens a suit to force the acknowledgment of the marriage, and of the child, stating that you, sir, hold the certificate or rather the license warranting the marriage, and that you will espouse and aid in prosecuting her iniquitous claims. My son is now a reformed and comparatively happy man, but should this degrading and bitterly repented episode of his collage life be thrust before the public, and allowed to blacken the fair escutcheon we are so jealously anxious to protect, I dread the consequences. Only horror of a notorious scandal prevented me long ago from applying for a divorce, which could very easily have been obtained, but we shrink from the publicity, and moreover the case does not seem to demand compliance with even the ordinary forms of law. Believing that you, my dear sir, would not avow yourself _particeps criminis_ in so unjust and vile a crusade against the peace and honour of my family were you acquainted with the facts, I have taken the liberty of writing you this brief and incomplete _resume_ of the outrages perpetrated upon me and mine, and must refer you for disgraceful details to my agent, Mr. Peleg Peterson of Whitefield, ---- Co., ----. Hoping that you will not add to the injury you have already inflicted, by further complicity in this audacious scheme of fraud and blackmail,
”I am, dear sir, respectfully An afflicted father, RENe LAURANCE.
”P.S.--Should you desire to communicate with me, my address for several months will be, Care of the American Legation, Paris.”
How many men or women, with lives of average length and incident, have failed to recognize, nay to cower before the fact, that all along the highways and byways of the earthly pilgrimage they have been hounded by a dismal _cortege_ of r.e.t.a.r.ded messages,--lost opportunities,--miscarried warnings,--procrastinated prayers,--dilatory deeds,--and laggard faces,--that howl for ever in their shuddering ears--”Too late.” Had Dr. Hargrove received this letter only twenty-four hours earlier, the result of the interview on the previous night would probably have been very different; but unfortunately, while the army of belated facts--the fatal Grouchy corps--never accomplish their intended mission, they avenge they failure by a pertinacious presence ever after that is sometimes almost maddening.