CHAPTER XLIII.THE LETTERS.

The next day’s mail brought four foreign letters to Rothsay,—one for Everard, one for Beatrice, one for Josephine, and one for Lawyer Russell. They were all mailed in Vienna, within two days of each other, and the one addressed to Everard was as follows:

“Vienna, April —, ——.

“Mr. Everard Forrest:—Dear Sir—I hardly know why I write to you first, unless it is because I know that what I have to say will hurt you most; you, who I think loved my darling Rossie. You have perhaps received theAmerican Registerwhich I ordered to be sent you from the office in Paris when I forwarded the notice, and so you know why I write to you now. I have written to you from time to time of Rossie’s failing health, but never told you as bad as it was, for I did not wish to alarm you unnecessarily, and kept hoping that change of scene might bring the improvement I so greatly desired. But nothing helped her, though she never complained of anything but fatigue. ‘So tired,’ was all she ever said of herself, and she seemed like some sweet flower fading gradually.

“At Haelder-Strauchsen, a little town among the Austrian hills, I found she was not able to go on as I wished to do, to Vienna, and so we staid there, where she had the best of care. Neither of us thought the end so near until the last day, when she failed rapidly, and talked of you and Miss Belknap, and told me to tell you how much she loved you both, and that you were not to be sorry she was dead, for she was only going home, and Heaven was as near Austria as it was to America. She was so beautiful in her coffin, with a smile of peace upon her face, as if she were resting at last. The people literally covered her with flowers, and strangers’ tears fell fast over her coffin as we laid her in the grave.

“I shall come to America soon, and will tell you all you wish to know with regard to her sickness and death, and the many things she said of you, and your kindness to her. I have a lock of her hair for you and Miss Belknap, which I will bring with me.

“And now good-by, and may Heaven pity us both and make us better men for having had our Rossie even for so short a time.

“Truly,John Matthewson.”

His letter to Beatrice was in substance much the same as the one to Everard. There were a few more detailsof Rossie’s illness, and a few more words which she said at the last of her friends in America.

Josephine’s letter no one saw, and if they had few in Rothsay could have made it out, for it was written in German, which Josephine could readily understand. One or two sentences, however, deserve a place in our story, and must accordingly be given. After indulging in a good deal of sentimentalism with regard to Rossie’s death, he added:

“But as every cloud has its silver lining, so has this dark pall which has overshadowed me so heavily. I can now offer you wealth as well as love, and this I dare say you will not object to. So, if you are not already at Indianapolis, go there at once, and perhaps I will join you there after I have paid my respects to Mr. Forrest.”

To Lawyer Russell he wrote as follows:

“Vienna, April —, ——.

“Mr. Thomas Russel:—Dear Sir—I have communicated to Mr. Forrest the sad news of my sister’s death, and need not enter into the particulars with you, who will hear them from him. I write to you as the family lawyer, on another subject of which I cannot now speak to Mr. Forrest, lest he should misconstrue my motive, and think me anxious and premature in what I am about to say. As a lawyer of large experience you have undoubtedly already thought of the fortune willed to Rossie by Judge Forrest, and of which she died lawfully possessed, and you have probably thought what disposition would now be made of it. You know, of course, that Rossie always protested it was not hers rightfully, and that she should give it back to Everard as soon as she reached her majority. I, however, who am her lawful heir, do not see things as she did, and am not disposed to throw away the good the gods provide. Still Iamdisposed to be generous and make over to Everard at once a portion of the property. As you must know more about the estate than any one except Everard himself, I wish you would be hunting up the matter, and getting into shape some statement or estimate of the value of the property, so there may be no unnecessary delay when I come to Rothsay, as I shall do at once. Ihave in New York a friend who is a shrewd, honest lawyer, and I may bring him with me, not because I think there will be any trouble or opposition to my claim, but just to expedite matters and get them settled as soon as possible.

“Hoping that you fully understand and appreciate my motives, and that I shall find in you a friend and adviser, I am, yours truly,

“John Matthewson.”

The old lawyer read this twice; then, with his hands under his coat-tails and his glasses on the top of his head, walked up and down his room, muttering to himself:

“Just what I told Ned,—the man is a scoundrel, and he will, with all his fine talk of generosity, bring a New York lawyer here to see to it, as if he wouldn’t have fair play and get every cent his due, though I’ll be blamed if I wouldn’t take advantage of any quirk or loop-hole to crawl out of, if there was one, which there isn’t. As Rossie’s brother he is her heir, of course, and the whole thing goes to him, for I’ll bet my head Ned will never take a dollar. Poor boy, as if he hadn’t trouble enough with the loss of the girl, without this new thing to bother.”

And if ever a man stood in need of sympathy it was Everard, who seemed completely crushed, and who looked so white and changed that even his best friends forbore speaking to him of Rossie, though they talked much of her among themselves, and many tears were shed for the young girl who had been so great a favorite, and whose grave was so far away. That Everard loved her with more than a brother’s love was conceded now by all, and no one thought to blame him for it, but pitied him in his sorrow, which he did not try to conceal. When Lawyer Russell took the doctor’s letter to him, and asked what he thought of it, he evinced no surprise or dissatisfaction.

“That’s all right,” he said, “he is her heir, and he shall have every dollar,—remember, every dollar. I would not take it from her, I will not have it from him; and you must do the business for me. I give it into yourhands. I cannot confer with him; I should forget myself sometime, and fly at his throat. I will give you all the papers pertaining to the estate. I have kept the matter perfectly straight, so there will be no trouble in finding just how much he is worth. Now mind, don’t you ever dare to think I will have a penny of the money, for I will not, so help me Heaven! till Rossie rises from her grave to give it to me. Then you may talk to me, and not till then.”

This was Everard’s decision, which both Mr. Russell and Beatrice approved, though both mourned bitterly over the fate which gave Judge Forrest’s hoarded stores into the hands of one as unprincipled as Dr. Matthewson, whose arrival was anxiously looked for.

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