Out of a Labyrinth
Page 42
CHAPTER XLII.
IN CONCLUSION.
When Winter closed in, and the first snow mantled the farms ofGroveland, the poor girl whom Johnny La Porte had reluctantly made hiswife, closed her eyes upon this earthly panorama.
She never rallied after her return from the South. They said that shedied of consumption, but her friends knew, whatever medical name mightbe applied to her disease at the end, that it began with a broken heart.
When it was over, and Nellie Ewing had no further need of his presence,Johnny La Porte,--who, held to his duty by the stern and oftentimesmenacing eye of 'Squire Ewing, as well as by the fear which Carnes hadimplanted in his heart, had been as faithful and as gentle to his poorwife as it was in his worthless nature to be,--now found himself shunnedin the community where he had once been petted and flattered.
There was no forgiveness in the heart of 'Squire Ewing, and his door wasclosed against his daughter's destroyer; for such the Grovelanders, inspite of his tardy reparation, considered Johnny La Porte.
He attempted to resume his old life in Groveland; but 'Squire Ewing wasbeloved in the community, and when _he_ turned his back upon Johnny LaPorte his neighbors followed his example.
Nowhere among those cordial Grovelanders was there a place or a welcomefor the man who had blighted the life of Nellie Ewing, and so he driftedaway from Groveland, to sink lower and lower in the scale ofmanhood--dissolute, brainless, a cumberer of the ground.
Nellie Ewing's sad death had its effect upon thoughtless little MamieRutger. She was shocked into sobriety, and her grief at the loss of herfriend brought with it shame for her own folly, and then repentance anda sincere effort to be a more dutiful daughter and a better woman.
Mrs. Ballou put her threat into execution after mature deliberation. Sheput her daughter Grace into a convent school, and then, to makeassurance doubly sure, she rented her fine farm, and took up her abodenear that of the good sisters who had charge of her daughter's mentaland spiritual welfare.
As for the Little Adelphi and Fred Brookhouse, they both lost prestigeafter coming under the severe scrutiny of the police. One iniquitousdiscovery concerning the theatre and its manager led to more; and beforeanother Spring visited the Sunny South, the Little Adelphi and FredBrookhouse had vanished together, the one transformed into an excellentgreen grocers' establishment, and the other into a strolling disciple ofchance.
Amy Holmes clung to the Little Adelphi to the last; and, after its finalfall, she, too, wandered away from New Orleans, carrying with her, hersecret which had been so serviceable a weapon in the hands of Carnes,but which he never knew.
* * * * *
It is written in the book of Fate that I shall pay one more visit toTrafton.
This time there is no gloom, no plotting; there are no wrongs to right.The time is the fairest of the year, May time, and the occasion is ajoyous one.
Doctor Denham, funny, talkative, and lovable as ever; Carnes, bubblingover with whimsical Hibernianisms; Gerry Brown, handsome and in highspirits; and myself, quite as happy as are the rest; all step down uponthe platform at the Trafton depot, and one after another grasp theoutstretched hands of Harvey James, whom we all _will_ call Jim Long inspite of ourselves, and then receive the hearty welcome of the Harris's,senior and junior, and many other Traftonites.
We have come to witness the end of our Trafton drama, viz., the marriageof Louise Barnard and Carl Bethel.
Bethel is as happy as mortals are ever permitted to be and as handsomeas a demigod. There are left no traces of his former suffering; thewound inflicted by a hired assassin has healed, leaving him as strong asof old, and only the scar upon his breast remains to tell the story ofthe long days when his life hung by a thread.
Of the blow that was aimed at his honor, there remains not even a scar.The plot of the grave robbers has recoiled upon their own heads. Dr.Carl Bethel is to-day the leading physician, and the most popular man inTrafton.
"I have waited for this event," says Harvey James, as we sit chattingtogether an hour before the marriage. "I have waited to see themmarried, and after this is over, I am going West."
"Not out of our reach, I hope!"
"No; I have still the surplus of the price of my farm; enough to buy mea ranche and stock it finely. I mean to build a roomy cabin and fit itup so as to accomodate guests. Then by-and-by, when you want anotherSummer's vacation, you and Carnes shall come to my ranche. I have talkedover my plans with Bethel and his bride, and they have already acceptedmy hospitality for next year's vacation. I anticipate some years ofgenuine comfort yet, for I have long wanted to explore the West, and trylife as a ranchman, but I would not leave Trafton while Brooks continuedto flourish in it. Do you mean to accept my invitation, sir?"
"I do, indeed; and as for Carnes, you'll get him to come easier than youcan persuade him to leave."
"Nothing could suit me better."
Louise Barnard made a lovely bride, and there never was a merrier ormore harmonious wedding party.
During the evening, however, the fair bride approached Jim--or HarveyJames--and myself, as we stood a little aloof from the others. There wasthe least bit of a frown upon her face, too, as she said:
"I can't help feeling cross with you, sir detective. Somebody must bearthe blame of not bringing Adele Lowenstein to my wedding. I wrote herthat I should take her presence as a sign that she fully believed in thesincerity of my friendship, and that Trafton would thus be assured of myentire faith in her, and yet, she declined."
I do not know what to say in reply. So I drop my eyes and mentallyanathematize my own stupidity.
"Do you know why she refused to come?" she persists.
While I still hesitate, Jim--I must say Jim--touches my arm.
"Your delicacy is commendable," he says in my ear. "But would it not bebetter to tell Mrs. Bethel the truth, than to allow her to think thewoman she has befriended, ungrateful?"
I feel that he is wise and I am foolish; so I lift my eyes to her faceand say:
"Mrs. Bethel, Adele Lowenstein had one secret that you never guessed. Ifyou had seen her, as I saw her, at the bedside of your husband, on theday after the attempt upon his life, _you_, of all women in the world,would understand best why she is not at your wedding to-day."
She utters a startled exclamation, and her eyes turn involuntarily towhere Carl Bethel stands, tall and splendid, among his guests; then alook of pitying tenderness comes into her face.
"Poor Adele!" she says softly, and turns slowly away.
"Adele Lowenstein is not the woman to forget easily," I say to mycompanion. "But there," and I nod toward Gerry Brown, "is the man whowould willingly teach her the lesson."
"Then," says Jim, contentedly, "it is only a question of time. GerryBrown is bound to win."
THE END.
LAWRENCE L. LYNCH'S WORKS.
Madeline Payne, the Expert's Daughter; with 44 Illustrations. Price,$1.50.
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