XV. WAYS OPENING
“It is not and it cannot come to good.” Hamlet.
I ATTENDED the funeral of Mr. Leavenworth, but did not see theladies before or after the ceremony. I, however, had a few moments’conversation with Mr. Harwell; which, without eliciting anything new,provided me with food for abundant conjecture. For he had asked, almostat first greeting, if I had seen the _Telegram_ of the night before;and when I responded in the affirmative, turned such a look of mingleddistress and appeal upon me, I was tempted to ask how such a frightfulinsinuation against a young lady of reputation and breeding could everhave got into the papers. It was his reply that struck me.
“That the guilty party might be driven by remorse to own himself thetrue culprit.”
A curious remark to come from a person who had no knowledge orsuspicion of the criminal and his character; and I would have pushedthe conversation further, but the secretary, who was a man of few words,drew off at this, and could be induced to say no more. Evidently it wasmy business to cultivate Mr. Clavering, or any one else who could throwany light upon the secret history of these girls.
That evening I received notice that Mr. Veeley had arrived home, butwas in no condition to consult with me upon so painful a subject asthe murder of Mr. Leavenworth. Also a line from Eleanore, giving me heraddress, but requesting me at the same time not to call unless I hadsomething of importance to communicate, as she was too ill to receivevisitors. The little note affected me. Ill, alone, and in a strangehome,--‘twas pitiful!
The next day, pursuant to the wishes of Mr. Gryce, in I stepped into theHoffman House, and took a seat in the reading room. I had been there buta few moments when a gentleman entered whom I immediately recognizedas the same I had spoken to on the corner of Thirty-seventh Streetand Sixth Avenue. He must have remembered me also, for he seemed to beslightly embarrassed at seeing me; but, recovering himself, took up apaper and soon became to all appearance lost in its contents, though Icould feel his handsome black eye upon me, studying my features,figure, apparel, and movements with a degree of interest which equallyastonished and disconcerted me. I felt that it would be injudicious onmy part to return his scrutiny, anxious as I was to meet his eye andlearn what emotion had so fired his curiosity in regard to a perfectstranger; so I rose, and, crossing to an old friend of mine who sat ata table opposite, commenced a desultory conversation, in the course ofwhich I took occasion to ask if he knew who the handsome stranger was.Dick Furbish was a society man, and knew everybody.
“His name is Clavering, and he comes from London. I don’t know anythingmore about him, though he is to be seen everywhere except in privatehouses. He has not been received into society yet; waiting for lettersof introduction, perhaps.”
“A gentleman?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“One you speak to?”
“Oh, yes; I talk to him, but the conversation is very one-sided.”
I could not help smiling at the grimace with which Dick accompanied thisremark. “Which same goes to prove,” he went on, “that he is the realthing.”
Laughing outright this time, I left him, and in a few minutes saunteredfrom the room.
As I mingled again with the crowd on Broadway, I found myself wonderingimmensely over this slight experience. That this unknown gentleman fromLondon, who went everywhere except into private houses, could be inany way connected with the affair I had so at heart, seemed not onlyimprobable but absurd; and for the first time I felt tempted to doubtthe sagacity of Mr. Gryce in recommending him to my attention.
The next day I repeated the experiment, but with no greater successthan before. Mr. Clavering came into the room, but, seeing me, didnot remain. I began to realize it was no easy matter to make hisacquaintance. To atone for my disappointment, I called on MaryLeavenworth in the evening. She received me with almost a sister-likefamiliarity.
“Ah,” she cried, after introducing me to an elderly lady at herside,--some connection of the family, I believe, who had come to remainwith her for a while,--“you are here to tell me Hannah is found; is itnot so?”
I shook my head, sorry to disappoint her. “No,” said I; “not yet.”
“But Mr. Gryce was here to-day, and he told me he hoped she would beheard from within twenty-four hours.”
“Mr. Gryce here!”
“Yes; came to report how matters were progressing,--not that they seemedto have advanced very far.”
“You could hardly have expected that yet. You must not be so easilydiscouraged.”
“But I cannot help it; every day, every hour that passes in thisuncertainty, is like a mountain weight here”; and she laid one tremblinghand upon her bosom. “I would have the whole world at work. I wouldleave no stone unturned; I----”
“What would you do?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she cried, her whole manner suddenly changing;“nothing, perhaps.” Then, before I could reply to this: “Have you seenEleanore to-day?”
I answered in the negative.
She did not seem satisfied, but waited till her friend left the roombefore saying more. Then, with an earnest look, inquired if I knewwhether Eleanore was well.
“I fear she is not,” I returned.
“It is a great trial to me, Eleanore being away. Not,” she resumed,noting, perhaps, my incredulous look, “that I would have you think Iwish to disclaim my share in bringing about the present unhappy stateof things. I am willing to acknowledge I was the first to propose aseparation. But it is none the easier to bear on that account.”
“It is not as hard for you as for her,” said I.
“Not as hard? Why? because she is left comparatively poor, while I amrich--is that what you would say? Ah,” she went on, without waiting formy answer, “would I could persuade Eleanore to share my riches with me!Willingly would I bestow upon her the half I have received; but I fearshe could never be induced to accept so much as a dollar from me.”
“Under the circumstances it would be better for her not to.”
“Just what I thought; yet it would ease me of a great weight if shewould. This fortune, suddenly thrown into my lap, sits like an incubusupon me, Mr. Raymond. When the will was read to-day which makes mepossessor of so much wealth, I could not but feel that a heavy, blindingpall had settled upon me, spotted with blood and woven of horrors. Ah,how different from the feelings with which I have been accustomed toanticipate this day! For, Mr. Raymond,” she went on, with a hurriedgasp, “dreadful as it seems now, I have been reared to look forward tothis hour with pride, if not with actual longing. Money has been madeso much of in my small world. Not that I wish in this evil time ofretribution to lay blame upon any one; least of all upon my uncle; butfrom the day, twelve years ago, when for the first time he took us inhis arms, and looking down upon our childish faces, exclaimed: ‘Thelight-haired one pleases me best; she shall be my heiress,’ I havebeen petted, cajoled, and spoiled; called little princess, and uncle’sdarling, till it is only strange I retain in this prejudiced breast anyof the impulses of generous womanhood; yes, though I was aware from thefirst that whim alone had raised this distinction between myself andcousin; a distinction which superior beauty, worth, or accomplishmentscould never have drawn; Eleanore being more than my equal in all thesethings.” Pausing, she choked back the sudden sob that rose in herthroat, with an effort at self-control which was at once touching andadmirable. Then, while my eyes stole to her face, murmured in a low,appealing voice: “If I have faults, you see there is some slight excusefor them; arrogance, vanity, and selfishness being considered in the gayyoung heiress as no more than so many assertions of a laudable dignity.Ah! ah,” she bitterly exclaimed “money alone has been the ruin of usall!” Then, with a falling of her voice: “And now it has come to mewith its heritage of evil, and I--I would give it all for--But this isweakness! I have no right to afflict you with my griefs. Pray forget allI have said, Mr. Raymond, or regard my complaints as the utterances ofan unhappy girl loaded down with sorrows and oppressed
by the weight ofmany perplexities and terrors.”
“But I do not wish to forget,” I replied. “You have spoken some goodwords, manifested much noble emotion. Your possessions cannot but provea blessing to you if you enter upon them with such feelings as these.”
But, with a quick gesture, she ejaculated: “Impossible! they cannotprove a blessing.” Then, as if startled at her own words, bit her lipand hastily added: “Very great wealth is never a blessing.
“And now,” said she, with a total change of manner, “I wish toaddress you on a subject which may strike you as ill-timed, but which,nevertheless, I must mention, if the purpose I have at heart is ever tobe accomplished. My uncle, as you know, was engaged at the time of hisdeath in writing a book on Chinese customs and prejudices. It was a workwhich he was anxious to see published, and naturally I desire to carryout his wishes; but, in order to do so, I find it necessary not onlyto interest myself in the matter now,--Mr. Harwell’s services beingrequired, and it being my wish to dismiss that gentleman as soon aspossible--but to find some one competent to supervise its completion.Now I have heard,--I have been told,--that you were the one of allothers to do this; and though it is difficult if not improper for me toask so great a favor of one who but a week ago was a perfect stranger tome, it would afford me the keenest pleasure if you would consent to lookover this manuscript and tell me what remains to be done.”
The timidity with which these words were uttered proved her to be inearnest, and I could not but wonder at the strange coincidence of thisrequest with my secret wishes; it having been a question with me forsome time how I was to gain free access to this house without in any waycompromising either its inmates or myself. I did not know then that Mr.Gryce had been the one to recommend me to her favor in this respect.But, whatever satisfaction I may have experienced, I felt myself in dutybound to plead my incompetence for a task so entirely out of the lineof my profession, and to suggest the employment of some one betteracquainted with such matters than myself. But she would not listen tome.
“Mr. Harwell has notes and memoranda in plenty,” she exclaimed, “andcan give you all the information necessary. You will have no difficulty;indeed, you will not.”
“But cannot Mr. Harwell himself do all that is requisite? He seems to bea clever and diligent young man.”
But she shook her head. “He thinks he can; but I know uncle nevertrusted him with the composition of a single sentence.”
“But perhaps he will not be pleased,--Mr. Harwell, I mean--with theintrusion of a stranger into his work.”
She opened her eyes with astonishment. “That makes no difference,” shecried. “Mr. Harwell is in my pay, and has nothing to say about it.But he will not object. I have already consulted him, and he expresseshimself as satisfied with the arrangement.”
“Very well,” said I; “then I will promise to consider the subject. Ican at any rate look over the manuscript and give you my opinion of itscondition.”
“Oh, thank you,” said she, with the prettiest gesture of satisfaction.“How kind you are, and what can I ever do to repay you? But would youlike to see Mr. Harwell himself?” and she moved towards the door; butsuddenly paused, whispering, with a short shudder of remembrance: “He isin the library; do you mind?”
Crushing down the sick qualm that arose at the mention of that spot, Ireplied in the negative.
“The papers are all there, and he says he can work better in his oldplace than anywhere else; but if you wish, I can call him down.”
But I would not listen to this, and myself led the way to the foot ofthe stairs.
“I have sometimes thought I would lock up that room,” she hurriedlyobserved; “but something restrains me. I can no more do so than I canleave this house; a power beyond myself forces me to confront all itshorrors. And yet I suffer continually from terror. Sometimes, in thedarkness of the night--But I will not distress you. I have already saidtoo much; come,” and with a sudden lift of the head she mounted thestairs.
Mr. Harwell was seated, when we entered that fatal room, in the onechair of all others I expected to see unoccupied; and as I beheld hismeagre figure bending where such a little while before his eyes hadencountered the outstretched form of his murdered employer, I could notbut marvel over the unimaginativeness of the man who, in the face ofsuch memories, could not only appropriate that very spot for his ownuse, but pursue his avocations there with so much calmness and evidentprecision. But in another moment I discovered that the disposition ofthe light in the room made that one seat the only desirable one for hispurpose; and instantly my wonder changed to admiration at this quietsurrender of personal feeling to the requirements of the occasion.
He looked up mechanically as we came in, but did not rise, hiscountenance wearing the absorbed expression which bespeaks thepreoccupied mind.
“He is utterly oblivious,” Mary whispered; “that is a way of his.I doubt if he knows who or what it is that has disturbed him.” And,advancing into the room, she passed across his line of vision, as ifto call attention to herself, and said: “I have brought Mr. Raymondup-stairs to see you, Mr. Harwell. He has been so kind as to accede tomy wishes in regard to the completion of the manuscript now before you.”
Slowly Mr. Harwell rose, wiped his pen, and put it away; manifesting,however, a reluctance in doing so that proved this interference to bein reality anything but agreeable to him. Observing this, I did not waitfor him to speak, but took up the pile of manuscript, arranged in onemass on the table, saying:
“This seems to be very clearly written; if you will excuse me, I willglance over it and thus learn something of its general character.”
He bowed, uttered a word or so of acquiescence, then, as Mary left theroom, awkwardly reseated himself, and took up his pen.
Instantly the manuscript and all connected with it vanished from mythoughts; and Eleanore, her situation, and the mystery surroundingthis family, returned upon me with renewed force. Looking the secretarysteadily in the face, I remarked:
“I am very glad of this opportunity of seeing you a moment alone, Mr.Harwell, if only for the purpose of saying----”
“Anything in regard to the murder?”
“Yes,” I began.
“Then you must pardon me,” he respectfully but firmly replied. “It isa disagreeable subject which I cannot bear to think of, much lessdiscuss.”
Disconcerted and, what was more, convinced of the impossibility ofobtaining any information from this man, I abandoned the attempt; and,taking up the manuscript once more, endeavored to master in some smalldegree the nature of its contents. Succeeding beyond my hopes, I openeda short conversation with him in regard to it, and finally, coming tothe conclusion I could accomplish what Miss Leavenworth desired, lefthim and descended again to the reception room.
When, an hour or so later, I withdrew from the house, it was with thefeeling that one obstacle had been removed from my path. If I failedin what I had undertaken, it would not be from lack of opportunity ofstudying the inmates of this dwelling.
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