HIS BIRCH CANOE PULLED STEADILY AWAYHIS BIRCH CANOE PULLED STEADILY AWAY
“Good-bye, Margot. Into God’s hands I give you.”
“The same Hands, uncle, which have cared for me always. I shall come back and bring our loved one with me. Get well fast, to make him happy when he comes.”
A hasty kiss to Angelique who was sobbing herself ill, a clasp of Pierre’s hand, and she was gone. Joe’s birch was pulling steadily away from the Island of Peace into that outside world of strife and contention, of which the young voyager was so wholly ignorant.
Her eyes were wet and her heart ached, with that same sort of physical distress which had assailed her when Adrian went away, but now much sharper. Yet her lips still smiled and Joseph, furtively regarding her, was satisfied. She would give him no trouble.
A few miles’ journey and she had entered what seemed like fairyland. She had then no time for looking back or remembering. The towns were wonderful, and the first time that she saw a young girl of her own age shestared until the stranger made a grimace toward her. This perplexed and annoyed her, but taught her a lesson: she stared no more.
Yet she saw everything; and in that little book her uncle had provided for this object made notes of her impressions, to be discussed with him upon her return. Her first ride behind horses made her laugh aloud. They were so beautiful and graceful and their strength so appealed to her animal-loving heart. The ricketty buck-board, which was their first vehicle, seemed luxurious, though after a few miles’ jogging over a corduroy-road she confided to Joseph that she preferred a canoe.
“Umm. No shakeum up.”
A stage drawn by four steeds, rather the worse for wear, yet with the accompaniment of fellow-travelers and a musical horn, brought memories of Cinderella and other childish heroines, and made the old tales real; but when they reached the railway and steppedinto a car her interest grew painfully intense. When the conductor paused to take their tickets, obligingly procured for this odd pair by the stage-driver, Margot immediately requested to be put upon the engine.
“The engine! Well, upon my word!”
“Yes, I’ve never seen one, except the one in front of this car-train. I know how they operate but I would so dearly like to see them working close at hand. Can’t I?”
The brass-buttoned official made no reply, save to purse his lips and utter another low whistle; but he gave Margot and Joe a critical survey and reflected that of all the passengers he had ever carried these were the most unique. There was something in the girl’s intelligent face that was hard to deny, and for all his silence, perhaps because of it, a certain dignity about the Indian that won favor even for him.
It was a way-train on a branch road; one of the connecting links between the wilderness and the land of the “through express”else it might not have happened that, after so long a time had elapsed that Margot felt her request was indeed refused, the conductor returned and whispered in her ear. It was a concession, not to be made general; but she was informed:
“I’ve spoken to the engineer and he says he doesn’t mind. Not if you’ll ask no questions and won’t bother.”
“I’ll not. And I thank you very much.”
“Hmm. She may be a backwoods girl but she can give a lesson in manners to many a city miss,” thought the obliging guide, as he led Margot forward through the few cars toward the front; and, at the next stop, helped her to the ground and up again into the little shut-in space beside the grimy driver of this wonderful iron horse.
Margot never forgot that ride; nor the man at the lever his unknown passenger. She had left her obnoxious bonnet upon the seat beside old Joseph and her hair had broken from its unaccustomed braid to its habitualfreedom, so that it enveloped her and streamed behind her like a cloud. Her trim short skirt, her heelless shoes, her absence of “flummery” aroused the engineer’s admiration and he volunteered, what he had previously declined to give, all possible information concerning his beloved locomotive. He even allowed her, for one brief moment to put her own hand on the lever and feel the thrill of that resistless plunging forward into space.
It was only when they stopped again and she knew she ought to go back to Joe that she ventured to speak.
“I never enjoyed anything so much in my life, nor learned so much in so short a time. I wish—I wish—have you a sister, or a little girl? Or anybody you love very much?”
“Why, yes. I’ve got the nicest little girl in the United States. She’s three years old and as cute as they make ’em.”
“You’ve given me pleasure, I’d like to give her as much. May she have this from me, to get—whatever a town child would like?”
“Sure, miss, it’s too much;but——”
Margot was gone, and on the engineer’s palm shone a bright gold coin. All Mr. Dutton’s money was in specie and he had given Margot a liberal amount of “spending money” for her trip. Money being a thing she knew as little about as she did traveling he had determined to let her learn its value by experience; yet even he might have been a trifle shocked by the liberality of this, her first “tip.” However, she saw only the gratitude that leaped into the trainman’s eyes and was glad that she had had the piece handy in her pocket.
Yet, delightful as the novelty of their long journey was, Margot found it wearisome; and the nearer she reached its end the more a new and uncomfortable anxiety beset her. Joseph said nothing. He had never complained nor admired, and as far as sociability was concerned he might have been one of those other, wooden Indians which began to appear on the streets of the towns, before shops where tobacco wassold. She looked at Joe, sometimes, wondering if he saw these effigies of his race and what were his opinions on the matter. But his face remained stolid and she decided that he was indifferent to all such slight affairs.
It was when they first stepped out of their train into the great station at New York, that the full realization of her undertaking came to her. Even Joseph’s face now showed some emotion, of dismay and bewilderment, and her own courage died in that babel of noises and the crowding rush of people, everywhere.
“Why, what has happened? Surely, there must have been some fearful accident, or they would not all hurry so.”
Then she saw among the crowd, men in a uniform she recognized, from the description her uncle had once given her, and remembered that he had then told her if ever she were in a strange place and needed help it was to such officers she should apply. When this advice had been given, a year before, neitherhad imagined it would so soon be useful. But it was with infinite relief that she now clutched Joseph’s hand and impelled him to go with her. Gaining the side of an officer, she caught his arm and demanded:
“What is the matter? Where are all the people hurrying to?”
“Why—nowhere, in special. Why?”
The policeman had, also, been hastening forward as if his life depended upon his reaching a certain spot at a certain time, but now he slackened his speed and walked quietly along beside this odd girl, at the same moment keeping his eye upon a distant group of gamins bent on mischief. It had been toward them he had made such speed, but a brother officer appearing near them he turned his attention upon Margot and her escort.
“Oh! I thought there was something wrong. Is it always such a racketty place? This New York?”
“Always. Why, ’tis quiet here to-day, compared to some.”
“Are you an officer of the law? Is it your business to take care of strangers?”
“Why, yes. I suppose so.”
“Can I trust you? Somebody must direct me. I was to take a cab and go—to this address. But I don’t know what a cab is from any other sort of wagon. Will you help me?”
“Certainly. Give me the card.”
Margot handed him the paper with the address of the old friend with whom her uncle wished her to stop while she was in the city; but the moment the policeman looked at it his face fell.
“Why, there isn’t any such place, now. All them houses has been torn down to put up a sky-scraper. They were torn down six months ago.”
“Why, how can that be? This lady has lived in that house all her life, my uncle said. She is a widow, very gentle and refined: she was quite poor; though once she had plenty of money. She took boarders, to keep a roof over her head; and it isn’t at all likelythat she would tear it down and so destroy her only income. You must be mistaken. Won’t you ask somebody else, who knows more about the city, please?”
The officer bridled, and puffed out his mighty chest. Was not he “one of the finest”? as the picked policemen are termed. If he didn’t know the streets of the metropolis, who did?
Margot saw that she had made a serious mistake. Her head turned giddy, the crowd seemed to surge and close about her, and with a sense of utter failure and homesickness she fainted away.
“There, dear, you are better. Drink this.”
Margot opened her eyes in the big waiting-room for women at the great station. A kind-faced woman in a white cap and apron was bending over her and holding a cup of bouillon to her lips, which obediently opened and received the draught with grateful refreshment.
“Thank you. That is good. Where am I? Who are you?”
The attendant explained: and added, with intent to comfort:
“You are all right. You will be cared for. It was the long going without food and the sudden confusion of arrival. The Indian says you have not eaten in a long time. Heis here, I could not keep him out. Is—is he safe?”
The hot, strong soup, and the comforting presence restored the girl so far that she could laugh.
“Joe safe? Our own dear old Joseph Wills? Why, madam, he is the very best guide in all the state of Maine. Aren’t you, Joe? And my uncle’s most trusted friend. Else he would not be here with me. What happened to me that things got so queer?”
“You fainted. That’s all.”
“I? Why, I never did such a thing in my life before.”
Joe drew near. His face seemed still impassive but there was a look of profound concern in his small, black eyes.
“Wouldn’ eat. Get sick. Joe said. Joe hungry, too.”
Margot sat up, instantly, smitten with remorse. If this uncomplaining friend admitted hunger she must have been remiss, indeed.
“Oh, dear madam! Please get him something to eat, or show him where to get it for himself. This last part of the road, or journey, was so long. The train didn’t stop anywhere, hardly, and I saw none of the eating places I had seen on the other trains. We were late, too, in starting, and had no breakfast. My own head whirls yet, and poor Joe must be famished. I have money, plenty, to pay for everything.”
The station matron called an attendant and put Joe in his charge. She, also, ordered a tray of food brought from the restaurant and made Margot eat. Indeed, she was now quite ready to do this and heartily; and her appetite appeased, she told the motherly woman as much of her story as was necessary; asking her advice about a stopping place, and if she, too, thought it true that the widow’s house had been demolished.
“Oh, yes, miss. I know that myself, for I live not so far from that street. It is, or was, an old-fashioned one, and full of big housesthat had once been grand but had run down. The property was valuable, though, and no doubt the widow bettered herself by selling. More than that, if she is still in the city, her name should be in the directory. I’ll look it up and if I find it, telephone her. After we do that will be time enough to look for some other place, if she is not to be found.”
Margot did not understand all this, and wondered what this quiet, orderly person had to do with the starting of trains, which she could hear continually moving out and in the monster building, even though she could not see them from this inner room. But this wonder was soon lost in a fresh surprise as, having consulted a big book which was chained to a desk in one corner, the matron came forward, smiling.
“I’ve found the name, miss. Spelled just as you gave it to me. The number is away up town, in Harlem. But I’ll ring her up and see.”
Again the matron crossed the room, towarda queer looking arrangement on the wall; but, a new train arriving, the room so filled with women and children that she had no more leisure to attend to Margot. However, she managed to tell her:
“Don’t worry. I’ll be free soon again, for a minute. And I’ll tell that Indian to sit just outside the door, if you wish. You can sit there with him, too, if it makes you feel more at home. You’re all right now, and will not faint again.”
“No, indeed. I never did before nor shall again, I hope.”
Yet Margot was very thankful when she and Joe were once more side by side, and now amused herself in studying the crowds about her.
“Oh! Joe, there are more ‘types’ here in a minute than one could see at home in years. Look. That’s a Swede. I know by the shape of his face, and his coloring. Though I never saw a live Swede before.”
“Wonder if she ever saw a dead one!” saida voice in passing, and Margot knew she had been ridiculed, yet not why. Then, too, she saw that many glances were turned upon the bench where she and Joe sat, apart from the crowd and, for almost the first time, became conscious that in some way she looked not as other people. However, she was neither over-sensitive nor given to self-contemplation and she had perfect faith in her uncle’s judgment. He had lived in this great city, he knew what was correct. He had told her to ask the widow to supply her with anything that was needed. She had nothing to do now but wait till the widow was found, and then she could go on about the more important business which had brought her hither.
As she remembered that business, her impatience rose. She was now, she must be, not only within a few miles of her unknown father, but of the man who had wronged him, whom she was to compel to right that wrong. She sprang to her feet. The crowd that had filled the waiting-room was again thinning,for a time, and the matron should be free. Would she never come?
“Then I’ll go to her! Stay right here, Joe. Don’t leave this place a minute now till I get back. Then we’ll not lose each other. I’ll come for you as soon as I can.”
Joe grunted his assent and closed his eyes. He, too, was conscious of staring eyes and indignant at them. Had nobody ever seen an Indian before? Were not these clothes that he was wearing the Master’s gift and of the same sort all these other men wore? Let them gaze, if that suited the simple creatures. As for him he was comfortable. The bench was no harder than the ground. Not much harder. He would sleep. He did.
But Margot found the matron doing a strange thing. She had a long pipe running from a box on the wall, and sometimes she was calling into it, or a hole beside it, in the most absurd way: “Hello! Hello, Central!” or else she was holding the tube to her ear and listening.
“What is it? What are you doing?”
“The telephone. I’m ringing up your friend. I’ll tell you what I hear, soon.”
Even the matron rather objected to having this oddly-dressed, inquisitive girl continually at hand, asking questions. She was busy and tired, and Margot understood that she was dismissed to her bench and Joe.
There she settled herself to think. It was time she did. If this friendly widow, whom her family had always known, could not be found, where should she go? To some hotel she supposed, and wondered which and where.
She was still deep in her musings when the matron touched her arm.
“I got an answer. The number is all right. It is the lady’s home when she is in town, but she has been in the country all summer. The boarding-house—it’s that—is closed except for the janitor, and he doesn’t know where she has gone. That’s all.”
It might be “all,” but it made the woodlander’sheart sink. Then she looked up and saw a vaguely familiar profile, yet she knew nobody, had seen nobody at home, and not even on her journey, whom she could remember to have been just like this.
It was the face of a young man, who was dressed like all these other city men about her, though with a something different and finer in the fit and finish of the light gray suit he wore. A slight moustache darkened his upper lip, and he fingered this lovingly, as one might a new possession. A gray haired lady leaned lightly on his arm and he carried her wraps upon his other. Suddenly she spoke to him, as they moved outward toward a suburban train, and he smiled down upon her. It was the smile that revealed him—Adrian.
“Why, how could I fail to know him! Adrian—then all is right!”
She forgot Joe and all else save that retreating figure which she must overtake, and dashed across the room regardless of thepeople who hindered her progress, and among whom she darted with lightning-like speed.
“Adrian! Adrian!Adrian!”
Their train was late, the lady had been helped to the last platform, and the young man sprang after her just as it was moving out. He heard his own name and turned, wondering and startled, to see a light-haired girl fiercely protesting against a blue-coated official, who firmly barred her passage beyond the stile into the dangerous region of a hundred moving cars.
“Your ticket, miss! Your train—which is it?”
“Ticket! It’s Adrian I want. Adrian, who has just gone on that car—oh, so fast, so fast! Adrian!”
“Too bad, miss, and too late. Sorry. The next train out will not be many minutes. Likely your friends will wait for you at your station. Which is it?”
“My friends? Oh! I don’t know. I guess—I guess I haven’t any.”
She turned away slowly, her heart too heavy for further speech, even had there been any speech possible; and there was Joe, the faithful and silent, laying his hand on her shoulder and guiding her back to their own bench.
“One girl runs away, get lost. Joe go home no more.”
“Poor Joe, dear Joe. I had no idea of running away. But I saw somebody, that boy who was at the island this summer, and I tried to make him see me. Too late, as the man said. He has gone, and now we, too, must go somewhere. I’ll ask that nice woman. She’ll tell us, I think,” and she again sought the matron.
“Yes. I do know a good place for you, if—they’ll take you in. Meaning no harm miss, but you see, you aren’t fixed just the same, and theIndian——”
“Is it a question of clothes? It’s not the clothing makes the character, my uncle says.”
“No, miss, I suppose not. All the samethey go a mighty long way toward making friends, leastways in this big city. AndIndians——”
“Joe Wills is just as noble and as honest as any white man ever lived!”
“Maybe so. Indeed, I’m not denying it, but Indians are Indians, and some landladies might think of tomahawks.”
Margot’s laugh rang out and the other smiled in sympathy.
“Joe, Joe! Would you scalp anybody?”
Then, indeed, was the red man’s impassivity broken by a grin, which happily relieved the situation, fast becoming tragic.
“Well, I’m not wise in city ways but I know that I can find a safe shelter somewhere. I’m going to ask that policeman, yonder, to find us a place.”
“That’s sensible, and I’ll talk with him myself. If he isn’t on duty likely he’ll take you to my friend’s himself. By the way, who was that you ran after and called to so loud?You shouldn’t do that in a big, strange station, you know.”
“I suppose not; yet I needed him so, and it was Adrian, who’s been at my own home all summer. If he’d heard, or seen me, he would have taken all the care, because this is where he’s always lived. The same familiar spot that—that dear Peace Island is to Joe and me,” she said, with a catch in her voice and laying her hand affectionately upon his sleeve.
“Adrian? A Mr. Adrian?”
“Why, no. He is a Wadislaw. His father’s name is Malachi Wadislaw, and my business here is with him.”
“Wadislaw, the banker? Why then, of course, it’s all right. Officer, please call a cab and take them to Number — West Twenty-fifth Street. That’s my friend’s; and say I sent them.”
“Mother, that was Margot!”
Mrs. Wadislaw heard but did not comprehend what Adrian was saying. She was flushed and panting from her rush after the retreating train and her nerves were excited.
“I’ll never, never—run—for any car—in this world, again!” she gasped. “It’s dangerous, and—so—so uncomfortable. Myheart——”
“Poor mother! I’m sorry. I’ll get you some water.”
The young fellow was excited himself but on quite a different matter; yet he knew that nothing could be done for the present and that the disturbed lady would take no interest in anything until her own agitation was calmed.
“No, no. Don’t you leave me. Touchthe button. Let the porter attend—I—I am so shaken. I’ll never, never do it again.”
He obeyed her and sat down in the easy-chair beside her. She had been compelled to run else they had been left behind, and she had been hurried from the platform of that last car through the long train to their own reserved seats in the drawing-room car.
“It was foolish; doubly so, because trains are so frequent. There was no need for haste, anyway, was there?”
“Only this need: that when anybody accepts a dinner invitation one should never keep a hostess waiting.”
“But when the hostess is only your own sister, and daughter?”
“One should be most punctilious in one’s own family. Oh, yes. It is no laughing matter, my son, and since you have come home and regained your common sense, you must regard all these seeming trifles. Half the disagreements and discomforts of life are due to the fact that even well-bred peopletreat their own households with a rudeness they would not dare show strangers. Now that you have given up your careless habits I shall take care to remind you of all these details, and expect to see you a finished society man within a twelvemonth.”
“No, indeed!”
“Adrian! How can you trifle so? Now when you’ve so lately been restored to me?”
“Dearest mother, I am not trifling. I should be, though, if I meant to shine nowhere else than at a fashionable dinner-table. There, don’t look worried. I’ll try not to disgrace you,yet——Well, I’ve learned a higher view of life than that. But can you hear me now? That was Margot—woodland Margot—who saved my life!”
“Nonsense. It couldn’t be.”
“It surely was; and I’m going to ask you to excuse me from this one visit so that I can go back and find her.”
“Find her? If it were she, and I’m positive you are mistaken, of course she is not inthe city alone. Her uncle must be with her, and your sister will be deeply hurt if you fail her this first time. At a dinner, you know, there are a certain and limited number of guests. The failure of one leaves his or her partner in an awkward position. You must keep your engagement, evenif——But, Adrian?”
“Yes, mother.”
“You must not exaggerate your obligations to those people. They did for you only what anybody would do for a man lost in the woods. By their own admission you were worth a great deal to that farmer. Else he never would have parted with eighty dollars, as he did. I shall always prize the gold piece you brought me; indeed, I mean to have it set in a pin and wear it. But this Maine farmer, or lumberman, or whatever he is, just drop him out of mind. His very name is objectionable to me, and you must never mention it before your father. Years ago there was a—well, something unpleasant withsome people; and, please oblige me by—by not being disagreeable now. After all my anxiety while you were gone and about your father’s health, I think—Ireally——”
Adrian slipped his arm across the back of the lady’s chair and smiled upon her, lovingly. He was trying his utmost to make up to her and all his family for whatever they had suffered because of his former “misdeeds.” He had come home full of high resolves and had had his sincerity immediately tested by his father’s demanding that:
“If you are in earnest, if you intend to do a son’s part by us, go back into the bank and learn a good business. This ‘art’ you talk about, what is it? But the shifty resource of a lot of idle fellows. Get down to business. Dollars are what count, in this world. Put yourself in a place where you can make them, and while I am alive to aid you.”
Adrian’s whole nature rebelled against this command, yet he had obeyed it. And hehad inwardly resolved that, outside the duties of his clerkship, his time was his own and should be devoted to his beloved painting.
“After all, some of the world’s finest pictures have been done by those whose leisure was scant. If it’s in me it will have to come out. Some time, in some way, I’ll live my own life in spite of all.”
It had hurt him, too, a little that his people so discouraged all history of his wanderings.
All of his sisters were married and well-connected, and one of them voiced the opinion of all, when she said:
“Your running away, or your behaving so that you had to be sent away, is quite disgrace enough. That you are back safe, and sensible, is all any of us care to know.”
But because he was forbidden to talk of his forest experiences he dwelt upon them all the more in his own mind; and this afternoon’s glimpse of Margot’s sunny head had awakened all his former interest. Why was she inNew York? Was the “master” with her? He, of whom his own mother spoke in such ignorant contempt, as a “farmer,” a “lumberman,” yet who was the most finished scholar and gentleman that Adrian had ever met.
“Well, I can’t get home till after that wretched dinner, and I should have to wait for the next train, anyway, even if the ‘mater’ would let me off. I’ve promised myself to make her happy, dear little woman, if I can, and sulking over my own disappointments isn’t the way to do that,” he reflected. So he roused himself to talk of other matters, and naturally of the sister at whose home they were to dine.
“I don’t see what made Kate ever marry a warden of state’s prison. I should think life in such a place would be hateful.”
“That shows how little you know about it, and what a revelation this visit will be to you. Why, my dear, she has a beautiful home, with horses and carriages at her disposal; her apartments are finely furnishedand she has one comfort that I have not, or few housekeepers in fact.”
“What is that?”
“As many servants as she requires, and at no expense to herself. Servants who are absolutely obedient, thoroughly trained, and never ‘giving notice.’”
“I do not understand.”
“They are the convicts. Why, they even have an orchestra to play at their entertainments, also of convicts; the musical ones to whom the playing is a great reward and treat. I believe they are to play to-night.”
“Horror! I hope not. I don’t want to be served by any poor fellow out of a cell.”
“You’ll not think about that. Not after a little. I don’t at all, now, though I used to, sometimes, when they were first in office. It’s odd that though they’ve lived at Sing Sing for two years you’ve not been there yet.”
“Not so odd, little mother. Kate and I never get along together very well. She’s too dictatorial. Besides, she was always cominghome and I saw her there. I had no hankering after a prison, myself. And speaking of disgrace, I feel that her living in such a place is worse than anything I ever did.”
“Adrian, for a boy who has ordinary intelligence you do say the strangest things. The office of warden is an honorable one and well paid.”
The lad smiled and his mother hastily added:
“Besides, it gives an opportunity for befriending the unhappy prisoners. Why, there is aman——”
She hesitated, looked fixedly at her son as if considering her next words, then concluded, rather lamely:
“But you’ll see.”
She opened her novel and began to read and Adrian also busied himself with the evening paper; and presently the station was reached and they left the train.
A carriage was in waiting for them, driven by men in livery, and altogether quite smartenough to warrant his mother’s satisfaction as they stepped into it and were whirled away to the prison.
But as he had been forewarned, there was no suggestion of anything repulsive in the charming apartments they entered, and his sister’s greeting was sufficiently affectionate to make him feel that he had misjudged her in the past.
All the guests were in dinner dress and Adrian was appointed to take in his own mother, Kate having decided that this would be a happy surprise to both parties. They had been the last to arrive and as soon as greetings were over the meal was immediately served; but on their way toward the dining-room, Mrs. Wadislaw pressed her son’s arm and nodded significantly toward the leader of the palm-hidden orchestra.
“Take a look at that man.”
“Yes. Who is he?”
“A convict, life sentence. Number 526. He plays divinely, violin.But——”
Again she hesitated and looked sharply into Adrian’s face. Should she, or should she not, tell him the rest? Yes. She must; it would be the surest, shortest way of curing his infatuation for those wood people. Her boy had spoken of this Margot as a child, yet with profound love and admiration. It would be as well to nip any nonsense of that sort in the bud. There was only a moment left, they were already taking their places at the elegantly appointed table, and she whispered the rest:
“He is in for robbery and manslaughter,—your own father the victim. His name is Philip Romeyn, and your woodland nonpareil is his daughter.”
“Mother!”
Adrian’s cry was a gasp. He could not believe that he had heard aright; but he felt himself pulled down into his chair and realized that though his spiritual world had been turned upside down, as it were, this extraordinary dinner must go on. There was only one fact for which to rejoice, a trivial one: he had been placed so that he could look directly into that palm-decked alcove and upon this convict, Number 526.
Convict! Impossible. The fine head was not debased by the close-cropped hair, and held itself erect as one upon which no shadow of guilt or disgrace had ever rested. The face was noble, despite its lines and the prison pallor; and though hard labor had bowed theonce stalwart shoulders, they neither slouched nor shrunk together as did those of the other poor men in that group.
“Adrian! Remember where you are.”
Even the bouillon choked him and the fish was as ashes in his mouth. Courses came on and were removed, and he tasted each mechanically, prodded to this duty by his mother’s active elbow. Her tact and volubility covered his silence, though there was nobody at that table, save herself, who did not mentally set the lad down as an ignorant, ill-bred person, oddly unlike the others of his family. Handsome? Oh! yes. His appearance was quite correct and even noticeable, but if a man were too stupid to open his mouth, save to put food into it, his place at a social function were better filled by a plainer and more agreeable person.
But all things end, as even that intolerable dinner finally did, and Adrian was free to rise and in some quieter place try to rearrange his disordered ideas. But he noticed that Katesignaled her mother to lead the guests from the room while she, herself, remained to exchange a few words with her chief musician. Adrian, also, lingered, unreproved, with an intensity of interest which fully redeemed his face from that dulness which his sister had previously assigned to it. She even smiled upon him, reassuringly:
“You’ll get used to society after a bit, brother. You’ve avoided it so much and lived so among those artists that you’re somewhat awkward yet. But you’ll do in time, you’ll do very well. I mean to make it a point that you shall attend all my little functions.”
But Adrian resolved that he would never grace, or disgrace, another in this place, though he answered nothing. Then the lady turned to Number 526, and the boy’s eyes fixed themselves upon that worn face, seeking resemblances, trying to comprehend that this unhappy fellow was the father of his sunny Margot.
Kate was speaking now with an accent intended to be kind, even commendatory, but her brother’s ear detected, also, its tone of condescension. Did the convict notice it, as well? If so, his face showed no sign.
“You did well, my man, very well. I think that there might be a bit more time allowed for practice, and will speak to the warden about it. But you, personally, have a remarkable gift. I hope you will profit by it to your soul’s good. I shall want you and your men again for a time this evening. I have the warden’s consent in the matter. A few arias and dreamy waltzes, perhaps that sonata which you and 1001 played the other day at my reception. Just your violin and the piano. You will undertake it? The instruments shall be screened, of course.”
Adrian was leaning forward, his hands clenched, his lips parted. His gaze became more and more intense. Suddenly the convict raised his own eyes and met the youth’s squarely, unflinchingly. They were blue eyes,pain-dimmed, but courageous. Margot’s eyes, in very shape and color, as hers might be when life had brought her sorrow. For a half-minute the pair regarded one another, moved by an influence the elder man could not understand; then Adrian’s hand went out invitingly, while he said:
“Allow me to thank you for your music. I’ve never heard a violin speak as yours does.”
The convict hesitated, glanced at the warden’s lady, and replied:
“Probably because no other violin has been to any other man what this has been to me.”
But he did not take the proffered hand and, with a bow that would have graced a drawing-room rather than a cell, clasped his instrument closely and quietly moved away.
Kate was inured to prison sights, yet even she was touched by this little by-play, though she reproved her too warm-hearted brother.
“Your generosity does you credit, dear, butwe never shake the hand of a prisoner, except when he is leaving. Not always then.”
“Kate, wait a minute. Tell me all about that man. I thought the prisoners were kept under lock and key. Ithought——Oh! it’s so awful, so incredible.”
“Why, Adrian! How foolish. Your artistic temperament, I suppose, and you cannot help it. No. They are by no means always kept so close. This one is a ‘trusty.’ So were all the orchestra. So are all whom you see about the house or grounds. This man is the model for the whole prison. He is worth more, in keeping order, than a hundred keepers. His influence is something wonderful, and his life is a living sermon. His repentance is unmistakably sincere, and his conduct will materially shorten his term, yet it will be a dark day for the institution when he leaves it. I cannot help but like him and trust him; andyet——Dear, dear! I must not loiter here. I must get back to my guests.”
“Wait, wait. There’s something I want to ask you. To tell you, too. Do you know who that man is?”
Kate shivered.
“Do I not? Oh! Adrian, though I have brought myself to look upon him so indulgently now, it was not so at first. Then I hated the sight of his face, and could scarcely breathe in the room where he was. He is under life-sentence for manslaughter and—I wonder if I ought to tell you! But I must. The situation is so dramatic, so unprecedented. The man whom Number 526 tried to kill, and whom he robbed of many thousands, was—our own father!”
He was not even surprised and her astonishing statement fell pointless, except that he shivered a little, as she had done, and withdrew his hand from her arm, where it had arrested her departure.
“I have heard that already. Mother told me. But I don’t believe it. That man never, never attempted or committed a crime. If hewere guilty could he lift his eyes to mine so steadfastly, I, the son of my father? There is some horrible, horrible mistake. I don’t know what, nor how, but there is. And I will find it out, will set it right. I must. I shall never know another moment’s peace until I do. Those eyes of his! Why, sister, do you know that it was little Margot, that man’s daughter, who saved me from starvation in the forest? Yes, saved my life; and whose influence has turned me from an idle, careless lad into—a man.”
If any of those critical guests could have seen his face at that moment they would not have called him stupid; and his excitement communicated itself so strongly to his sister, that she passed her hands across her brow as if to clear her startled thoughts.
“Impossible. Fifteen years has Number 526 lived a prison life, and if there had been any mistake, it would, it must, have been found out long ago. Why, the man had friends, rich ones, who spent great sums to prove hisinnocence and failed. The evidence was too strong. If he had had his way we two would have long been fatherless.”
Kate turned to leave the room but Adrian did not follow her. The place had become intolerable to him, yet he blessed the chance which had brought him there to see this unhappy fellow-man and to learn this amazing story. Now he could not wait to put distance between himself and the hateful spot, and to begin the unraveling of what he knew, despite all proof, was somebody’s terrible blunder.
As cautiously as any convict of them all, escaping from his fetters, the lad made his way into the street and thence with all speed to the station. He had picked up a hat somewhere, but was still in full dress, and more than one glance fell with suspicion upon his heated countenance and disordered appearance. However, he was too deep in his own thoughts to observe this, and as the train rushed cityward he grew more calmand better able to formulate a plan of action.
“I begin to understand. This yearly visit of the ‘master’ has been to Number 526. They were close friends, and brothers by marriage. This year he has brought Margot with him. Will he, I wonder, will he let her see this convict in stripes? No marvel that my question as to her father’s burial place was an unanswerable one. Mother desired me not to mention the names of my forest friends before my father, but in this I must disobey her. I dare not do otherwise. I must get the whole, complete, detailed history of this awful affair, and there is nobody who could so well remember it as its victim. But I believe there were two victims, and one is suffering still. I only hope that father’s head will not be troubling him. I can’t think of him without these queer ‘spells’ yet he has always been capable of transacting business, and I must get him to talk, even if it does confuse him. Oh! hum! Will we never reach the city!And where is Margot now? If I knew I should hurry to see her first; but—what a welcome her uncle would give me if I succeeded in clearing her father’s name. No wonder he disliked me—rather I am astonished that he let me stay at all, knowing my name, even if not my parentage. After that, of course, I had to go. Yet he was kind and just to the last, despite his personal feeling, and this poor Number 526 looks just as noble.”
The house on Madison Avenue was dark when Adrian reached it, but he knew that his father’s private room was at the rear of the building and, admitting himself with his latch-key, went directly there.
The banker sat in an attitude familiar to all his family, with his hands locked together, his head bent, and his gaze fixed upon vacancy. He might have been asleep for all appearances, but when Adrian entered and bade “Good-evening, father,” he responded promptly enough.
“Good-evening, Adrian. Has your mother come home?”
“No, father. I left—well, I left rather suddenly. In any case, you know, she was to stop for the night with Kate. But I came, right after dinner, because I want to have a talk with you. Are you equal to it, to-night, sir?”
The banker flashed a suspicious glance upward, then relapsed into his former pose. Memories of previous disagreeable “talks” with this, his only son, arose, but Adrian anticipated his remark.
“Nothing wrong with me, this time, father, I hope. I am trying to learn the business and to like it.I——”
“Have you any money, Adrian?”
“A little. What is left of my salary; more than I should have if mother hadn’t fitted my wardrobe out so well. A clerk even in your bank doesn’t earn a princely sum, you remember; not at first.”
It was a well-known fact, upon the “street,”that the employees of “Wadislaw’s” received almost niggardly payment. Wadislaw, himself had the reputation of penuriousness, and that his family had lived in the style they had was because Mrs. Wadislaw’s personal income paid expenses.
“Put it away. Put it away where nobody can find it. There are more robbers than honest men in the country. Once I was robbed, myself. Of an enormous sum. I have never recovered from that set-back. We should not have gotten on at all but for your mother. Your mother is a very good woman, Adrian.”
“Why, yes, father. Of course. The very best in the world, I believe. She has only one fault, she will make me go into society, and I dislike it. Otherwise, she’s simply perfect.”
“Yes, yes. But she watches me too closely, boy. Don’t let your wife be a spy upon you, lad.”
“No, I won’t,” laughed he. “But speakingof robberies, I wish you would tell me about that great one which happened to you. It was when I was too young to know anything about it. I have a particular reason for asking. If you are able, that is.”
“Why shouldn’t I be able? It is never out of my mind, night nor day. There was always a mystery in it. Yet I would have trusted him as I trusted myself. More than I would dare trust anybody now, even you, my son.”
The man was thoroughly aroused, at last. Adrian began to question if he had done right in saying what would move him so, knowing that all excitement was apt to be followed by a “spell,” during which he acted like a man in a dream, though never sleeping.
But he resumed the conversation, voluntarily, and Adrian listened intently.
“He was a poor boy from a country farm. Your mother and the girls, were boarding at his home. I went up for Sundays, for I liked his horses. I never felt I couldafford to ownone——Don’t buy a horse, Adrian!”
“No, father. Not yet. I’m rather more anxious to buy a certain moose I know and present it to the city Zoo. King Madoc. You remember I told you about the trained animal, who would swim and tow a boat, and could be harnessed to draw a sleigh?”
“Umm. Indeed? Remarkable. Quite remarkable. But I wouldn’t do it, boy. The gift would not be appreciated. Nobody ever does appreciate anything. It is a selfish world. A selfish world, and an ungrateful one.”
“Not wholly, father, I hope.”
“We were talking. What about? I—my memory—so much care, and the difficulty of keeping secrets. It’s hard to keep everything to one’s self when a man grows old, Adrian.”
“Yes, father dear. But I’m at home now to stay. You must trust me more and rely upon me. Believe me, I will deserve your confidence. But it was the boy from the farm you were telling me of, and the horses.”
In all his life Adrian had never drawn so near his father’s real self as he was drawing then. He rejoiced in this fact as a part of the reward of his more filial behavior. He meant wholly what he had just promised, but he was still most anxious to hear this old story from this participant’s own lips, while they were together, undisturbed.
“Yes, yes. Well, I thought I could drive a pair of colts as well as any jockey, though I knew no more about driving than any other city business man. Of course, they ran away, and I should have been killed, but that littleshaver——Why, Adrian, that little shaver just sprung on the back of one, from where he’d been beside me in the wagon, and he held and pulled and wouldn’t let go till they’d quieted down, and then he was thrown off and nearly trampled to death. I wasn’t hurt a bit, not a single bit. You’d think I’d befriend such a brave, unselfish little chap as that, wouldn’t you, lad?”
In the interest of his recital Mr. Wadislawhad risen and paced the floor, but he now sat down again, flushed and a bit confused.
“What did you do for him, father?”
“Hmm. What? Oh! yes. Found out he wanted to come to New York and put him to school. Made a man of him. Gave him a place in the bank. Promoted him, promoted him, promoted him. Till he got almost as high as I was myself. Trusted him with everything even more than myself for he never forgot. It would have been better if he had.”
A long silence that seemed intolerable to Adrian’s impatience.
“Then, father, what next?”
“How curious you are! Well, what could be next? except that I went one night—or day—I don’t remember—hewent——The facts were all against him. There was no hope for him from the beginning. If I had died, he would have hanged, that boy—that little handsome shaver who saved my life. But I didn’t die, and he only tried to kill me.They found him at the safe—we two, only, knew the lock—and the iron bar in his hand. He protested, of course. They always do. His wifecame——Oh! Adrian, I shall never forget her face. She was a beautiful woman, with such curious, wonderful hair, and she had a little baby in her arms, while she pleaded that I would not prosecute. The baby laughed, but what could I do? The law must take its course. The money was gone and my life almost. There was no hope for him from the beginning, though he never owned his guilt. But I didn’t die, and—Adrian, why have you asked me all this to-night? I am so tired. I often am so tired.”
The lad rose and stood beside his father’s chair, laying his arm affectionately around the trembling shoulders, as any daughter might have done, as none of this stern father’s daughters dared to do.
“I have asked you, father, and pained you because it was right. I had to ask. To-day I have seen this ‘little shaver,’ a convict inhis prison. I have looked into a face that is still noble and undaunted, even after all these years of suffering and shame. I have heard of a life that is as helpful behind prison bars as the most devoted minister’s outside them. And I know that he is innocent. He never harmed you or meant to. I am as sure of this as that I stand here, and it is my life’s task to undo this wrong that has been done. You would be glad to see him righted, would you not, father? After all this weary time?”
“I—I—don’t—I am ill, Adrian,I——Take care! The money, the bonds! My head, Adrian, my head!”
Uponreaching the New York railway station, Adrian had stopped long enough to send his mother an explanatory telegram, so that she might not worry over his sudden disappearance. He had also urged her in it, to “make a good visit, since he would be at home to look after his father.”
In this new consideration for the feelings of others he was now thankful that Mrs. Wadislaw was away. “She gets so anxious and frightened over father’s ‘spells,’ though he always comes out of them well,” he reflected; then did what he remembered to have seen her do on similar occasions. He helped his father to the lounge, loosened his collar, bathed his head, and administered a few drops of a restorative kept near at hand.
In a few moments the banker sat up again and remarked:
“It is queer that no doctor can stop these attacks. I never quite lose consciousness, or rather I seem to be somebody else. I have an impulse to do things I would not do at other times—yet what these things are I do not clearly remember when the attack passes. But I always feel better for some days after them. For that reason I do not dread them as I would, otherwise. Strange, that a man has to lose his senses in order to regain them! A paradox, but a fact.”
“Do you have them as often as formerly?”
“Oftener, I think. They are irregular. I may feel one coming on again within a few hours or it may not be for weeks. The trouble is that I may be stricken some time more severely and fall senseless in some unsafe place.”
“Don’t fear about that, father. I am at home again, you know, and shall keep you well in sight. If you would only give upbusiness and go away to Europe, or somewhere. Take a long rest. You might recover entirely then and enjoy a ripe old age.”
“I can’t afford it, lad. If those stolen bonds—but what’s the use of recalling them? Your talk has brought my loss so freshly before me. I wish you hadn’t asked me about it. However, it’s done, and it’s late. Let’s get to bed. I must be early at the bank, to-morrow. The builders are coming to look things over and estimate on the cost of safe deposit vaults in the basement. Ours is one of the oldest buildings in the city and every inch of space has increased in value since it was put up. The waste room of that basement should bring us in a princely income, if the inspector will give the permit to construct the vaults. My head must be clear in the morning, if ever, and I must rest now. Good-night.”
Adrian saw his father to his room and sought his own, resolving to be present at the next day’s interview with the builders, and togive the banker his own most watchful care. But his thoughts soon returned to the startling knowledge he had gained concerning Margot’s history, and when he fell asleep, at last, it was to dream of a prison on an island, of his mother in a cell, and other most distressing scenes. So that he awoke unrefreshed, and in greater perplexity than ever as to how he could find Margot or be of any help to Number 526.
But Mr. Wadislaw seemed brighter than usual, and was almost jovial in his discussion of the proposed alterations of his property.
“You will be a rich man, Adrian, a very rich man, as I figure it. Money is the main thing. Get money and—and—keep it;” he added with a cautious glance around the breakfast room.
But there was nobody except the old butler to hear this worldly advice and he had always been hearing it. Adrian, to whom it was given, heard it not at all. He was thinking of his island friends and wondering howhe should find them. However, when they reached the bank, he rallied his wandering thoughts and gave strict attention to the talk between the banker and the builders, trying to impress upon his mind the dry facts and figures which meant so much to them.
“You say that this wall will have to be torn down. To reach bottom rock. Why, sir, that wall has stood—Adrian, what is that racket in the outer office? Stop it. The porter should notallow——But, sir, that wall is as thick as the safe built into it. Imean——”
Mr. Wadislaw passed his hand across his forehead and Adrian, seeing this familiar sign of impending trouble, felt that his place was at his father’s side rather than in quelling that slight disturbance in the adjoining room. He took his stand behind the banker’s chair and rested his hand upon it.
Mr. Wadislaw cast a hurried, appealing glance upward, and the son smiled and nodded. The contractor moved about theplace, tapping the walls, the floor, and the great chimney beside the safe; pausing at this spot and listening, tapping afresh, listening again, with a marked interest growing in his face.
But nobody noticed this, for, suddenly, the door slid open and there stood in the aperture a girl with wonderful, flowing hair and a face strangely stern and defiant.
“Margot!”
But it was not at Adrian she looked. At last she was in the presence of the man who had ruined her father. And—he knew her! Aye, knew her, though they two had never met before and, as yet, she had spoken no accusing word. For he had sunk back in his seat, his face white, his eyes staring, his jaw dropped. To him she was an apparition, one risen from the dead to confront him with the darkest hour of all his past, when a broken-hearted wife had kneeled to him, begging her husband’s life. Yet it was broad daylight and he wide awake.
“Are you Malachi Wadislaw?”
“I—I—thought you were dead!”
“No, not dead. Alive and come at last to make you right the wrong you did my father. To make you open his prison doors and set him free.”
“Are you Philip Romeyn’s wife? Her hair—his eyes—I—I—am confused—Adrian!”
“Yes, father. I am here. Margot!”
Her glance passed from the father to the son but there was no relenting kindness in it. When the young suffer it is profoundly, and the inmost depths of Margot’s nature were stirred by this first sight of her father’s enemy.
“Philip Romeyn’s wife lies in the grave, whither your persecution sent her. I am her daughter and his, come to make you do a tardy justice. To make you lead me to the place where you have hidden the bonds, the gold, you said he stole! For if stealing was done it was by your own hands, not his.”
“Margot—Margot! This is my father!” cried Adrian, aghast.
“Yes, Adrian, and my father—my father—wears a convict’s garb this day because of yours!”
“No, no! No, no. I tried to save him, but he would not save himself! I begged him, almost on my knees I begged him, the little shaver, to confess and get the benefit of that. But he would not. There was no hope for him from the beginning. None. They found me all but dead. The money gone. He by me, the steel rod in his hand with which we used to fasten the—that very safe.I——Why, I can see it all as if it were to-day, even though they lifted me for dead, and found him standing, dazed and speechless. When they questioned him about the money he said: ‘Ask Malachi Wadislaw. I never touched it.’ That was all. But they proved it against him. I was dead—almost—and I was beggared. Beggared!” his voice rose to a scream, “by that brave little shaver who had once—once saved my life. Robbed and murdered—his benefactor, who had madehim rich and prosperous. Should he not suffer? Aye, forever!”
The silence that followed this speech was intense. The builder ceased his inquisitive tapping and listened spellbound. Old Joe stood rigidly behind the girl whom he had followed. Adrian scarcely breathed. Accused and accuser faced one another, motionless.
Then: “Where—was—it?” demanded Margot. “Show me—the place.”
“Here. Here, in this very sanctum to which nobody had the entrance but us two. There—is the monster safe that was robbed. With such another rod of steel”—he pointed to a bar resting above the safe—“was I struck—here.” His hand touched for an instant a deep scar on his temple and an involuntary shudder passed over the girl’s frame.
But her face did not change nor the defiance of her eyes grow less. She moved a step forward, and, as if to make way for her, the builder, also, stepped aside. As he did sohis hammer caught upon the little ledge of the chimney projection which he had been testing and whose hollow sound had aroused his curiosity. The small slab of marble slipped and fell, though it had seemingly been securely plastered in the wall. It left an aperture of a few inches, and the contractor ejaculated:
“Pshaw! That’s queer. Must have been loose, I never saw just such a hole in such a place. I’m sorry, sir,yet——”He turned to address the banker but paused, amazed. What had he done?
The effect of that trivial accident upon the owner of the building was marvelous. He sprang to his feet, clasped his head with his hands, and gazed upon that tiny opening with the fascination of horror. For a moment it seemed as if his staring eyes would start from their sockets and he gasped in his effort to breathe.
“Father! What is it? What ails you?”
But the distraught man tossed off his son’sarm like one who needed no support, and to whom each second of delay was unendurable.
“Look, look! What they told me—I believed—look, look!” then he swayed and Adrian caught him.
But Margot’s anxious love leaped to a swift comprehension of what merely amazed the others.
“That hole! The bonds—the bonds are in that hole! That’s what he means. Look, look!”
Incredulous, but impelled by her insistence, the builder peered into the opening. It was too small to admit his head and his gaze could pass no further than its opposite side.
“There’s nothing there, miss, but a hole, as he said.”
She tossed him aside, not noticing, and thrust her arm down as far as it would reach.
“A stick, a string, something—quick! It is deep.”
Nobody moved, till she turned upon the Indian.
“For the master, Joe! a string and a weight. Quick, quick!”
The empty-handed son of the forest was the man who filled her need. A new, well-leaded fishing line that had caught his fancy, passing down the street, came from his pocket. She seized, uncoiled, and dropped it down the hole.
“Oh! it is so deep. But we must get to the bottom. We must, even if I tear that wall down with my own hands. You’ll help me, Joe, dear Joe, won’t you? For the master?”
He moved forward, instantly, but Adrian interposed. He was colorless with excitement yet his voice had the ring of hope and expectation, as he bent and looked into Malachi Wadislaw’s eyes.
“Is she right, father? Do you hear me? Is there anything in that small place?”
“I remember—I remember. The bonds. The bonds are safe. Always—always keep your money in ahidden——”
“God forbid!” groaned the lad. Then to the builder, “Get your men. Tear down that wall. Quick. A man’s life is at stake, or more than life—his honor.”
The contractor hesitated, then remarked:
“Well, it won’t weaken the building, as I see; and we had decided on the work. It would have to come down anyway.”
He stepped to the street and summoned a waiting workman. They were skilled and labored rapidly, with little scattering of dust or mortar, though Margot would not move aside even from that, but gave them room for working only, standing with gaze riveted on that deepening shaft. A mere shell of single bricks, plastered and painted as the remaining wall, had hidden it; and its depth was little below the thick-beamed floor.
At last the workman stood up.
“I think I see the bottom, sir, and there seems to be stuff in it. Would you like to feel, young man?”
“No, no! I! It is I—to me the right—tofind them!” cried Margot, flinging herself between, and downward on the floor.