CHAPTER XLVI.THE NIGHT COMETH.
“How swift the shuttle flies that weaves thy shroud!”—Young.
On the evening of the day of the encounter in Charlton’s library, some of the principal persons of our story were assembled in one of the private parlors of the Astor House in New York.
Some hours previously, Vance had introduced Clara to her nearest relatives, the Pompilards; but before telling them her true name he had asked them to trace a resemblance. Instantly Netty had exclaimed: “Why, mother, it is the face you have at home in the portrait of Aunt Leonora.” And Aunt Leonora was the grandmother of Clara!
Vance then briefly presented his proofs of the relationship. Who could resist them? Pompilard, in a high state of excitement, put his hands under Clara’s arms, lifted her to a level with his lips, and kissed her on both cheeks. His wife, her grand-aunt, greeted her not less affectionately; and in embracing “Cousin Netty,” Clara was charmed to find a congenial associate.
Pompilard all at once recollected the gold casket which old Toussaint had committed to his charge for Miss Berwick. Writing an order, he got Clara to sign it, and then strode out of the room, delighted with himself for remembering the trust. Half an hour afterwards he returned and presented to his grand-niece the beautiful jewel-box, the gift of her father’s step-mother, Mrs. Charlton. Clara received it with emotion, and divesting it of the cotton-wool in which it had been kept wrapped and untouched so many years, she unlocked it, and drew forth this letter:—
“My dear little Granddaughter: This comes to you from one to whom you seem nearer than any other she leavesbehind. She wishes she could make you wise through her experience. Since her heart is full of it, let her speak it. In that event, so important to your happiness, your marriage, may you be warned by her example, and neither let your affections blind your reason, nor your reason underrate the value of the affections. Be sure not only that you love, but that you are loved. Choose cautiously, my dear child, if you choose at all; and may your choice be so felicitous that it will serve for the next world as well as this.E. B. C.”
“My dear little Granddaughter: This comes to you from one to whom you seem nearer than any other she leavesbehind. She wishes she could make you wise through her experience. Since her heart is full of it, let her speak it. In that event, so important to your happiness, your marriage, may you be warned by her example, and neither let your affections blind your reason, nor your reason underrate the value of the affections. Be sure not only that you love, but that you are loved. Choose cautiously, my dear child, if you choose at all; and may your choice be so felicitous that it will serve for the next world as well as this.
E. B. C.”
The Pompilards remained of course to dinner; and then to the expected interview of the evening. They were introduced to the highly-dressed bride, Mrs. Ripper, formerly Clara’s teacher; also to the quadroon lady, Madame Volney. And then the gentlemen—Captain Onslow, Messrs. Winslow, Semmes, and Ripper, and last, not least, Colonel Delancy Hyde and his nephew—were all severally and formally presented to the Pompilards.
“Does it appear from Charlton’s letters to Hyde that Charlton knew of Hyde’s villany in kidnapping the child?” asked Mr. Semmes of Vance.
“No, Charlton was unquestionably ignorant, and is so to this day, of the fact that the true heir survives. All that he expected Hyde to do was to so shape his testimony as to make it appear that the child diedafterthe mother andbeforethe father. On this nice point all Charlton’s chances hung. And the letters are of the highest importance in showing that it was intimated by the writer to Hyde, that, in case his testimony should turn out to be of a certain nature, he, Hyde, besides having his and Quattles’s expenses to New York all paid, should receive a thousand dollars.”
“That is certainly a tremendous point against Charlton. Is it possible that Hyde did not see that he held a rod over Charlton in those letters?”
“Both he and Quattles appear to have been very shallow villains. Probably they did not comprehend the legal points at issue, and never realized the vital importance of their testimony.”
“Let me suggest,” said Semmes, “the importance of having Charlton recognize Hyde in the presence of witnesses.”
“Yes, I had thought of that, and arranged for it.”
Here there was a stir in the little unoccupied anteroom adjoining. The Charltons and Charlton’s lawyer, Mr. Detritch, had arrived. The ladies were removing their bonnets and shawls. Hyde drew near to Vance, and the latter threw open the door. Charlton entered first. The prospect of recovering his New Orleans property had put him in the most gracious of humors. His dyed hair, his white, well-starched vest, his glossy black dress-coat and pantaloons, showed that his personal appearance was receiving more than usual attention. He would have been called a handsome man by those who did not look deep as Lavater.
After saluting Vance, Charlton started on recognizing the gaunt figure of Delancy Hyde. Concluding at once that the Colonel had come as a friend, Charlton exclaimed: “What! My old friend, Colonel Delancy Hyde? Is it possible?”
And there was a vehement shaking of hands between them.
Detritch and the ladies having entered, all the parties were formally introduced to one another. The mention of Miss Berwick’s name excited no surprise on the part of any one.
The company at once disposed themselves in separate groups for conversation. Captain Onslow gave his arm to Miss Charlton, and they strolled through the room to talk of ambulances, sanitary commissions, hospitals, and bullets through the lungs. Pompilard, who declared he felt only eighteen years old while looking at his niece, divided his delightful attentions between Madame Volney and Mrs. Ripper. Clara invited Colonel Hyde to take a seat near her, and gave him such comfort as might best confirm him in the good path he was treading. Hyde junior looked at the war pictures in Harper’s Weekly. Winslow and Mrs. Charlton found they had met five years before at Saratoga, and were soon deep in their recollections. Semmes and Detritch skirmished like two old roosters, each afraid of the other. Ripper made himself agreeable to Mrs. Pompilard and Netty, by talking of paintings, of which he knew something, having sold them at auction. Vance took soundings of Charlton’s character, and found that rumor, for once, had not been unjust in her disparagement. The man’s heart, what there was of it, was in his iron safe with his coupons and his certificates of deposit.
Suddenly Vance went to the piano, and, striking some of the loud keys, attracted the attention of the company, and then begged them to be silent while he made a few remarks. The hum of conversation was instantly hushed.
“We are assembled, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “on business in which Mr. Charlton here present is deeply interested.”
Mr. Charlton, who occupied an arm-chair, and had Detritch on his right, bowed his acknowledgments.
“If,” continued Vance, “I have not communicated privately to Mr. Charlton, or his respectable counsel, all the startling and important facts bearing on the case, I hope they will understand that it was not through any failure of respect for them, and especially for Mrs. and Miss Charlton, but simply because I have thought it right to choose the course which seemed to me the most proper in serving the cause of justice and of the party whose interests I represent.”
Charlton and Detritch looked at each other inquiringly, and the look said, “What is he driving at?”
The amiable bride (Mrs. Ripper) touched Pompilard coquettishly with her fan, and, pointing to Charlton, whispered, “O, won’t he be come up with?”
“No innocent man,” continued Vance, “will think it ever untimely to be told that he is holding what does not belong to him; that he has it in his power to rectify a great wrong; to make just restitution. On the table here under my hand are certain documents. This which I hold up is a certified printed copy of the great Trial, by the issue of which Mr. Charlton, here present, came into possession of upwards of a million of dollars, derived from the estate of the brother of one of the ladies now before me. It appears from the judge’s printed charge (see page 127) on the Trial, that the essential testimony in the case was that given by one Delancy Hyde and one Leonidas Quattles. With the former, Mr. Charlton has here renewed his acquaintance. Mr. Quattles died some months since, but we here have his deposition, duly attested, taken just before his death.”
“What has all this to do with my property in New Orleans?” exclaimed Charlton, thoroughly mystified.
“Be patient, sir, and you will see. The verdict, ladies and gentlemen, turned upon the question whether, on the occasion of the explosion of the Pontiac, the child, Clara, or her father, Henry Berwick, died first. The testimony of Messrs. Hyde and Quattles was to the effect that the child died first. But it now appears that the father died—”
“A lie and a trick!” shouted Charlton, starting up with features pale and convulsed at once with terror and with rage. “A trick for extorting money. Any simpleton might see through it. Have we been brought here to be insulted, sir? You shall be indicted for a conspiracy. ’T is a case for the grand jury,—eh, Detritch?”
“My advice to you, Mr. Charlton,” said Detritch, “is to turn this gentleman over to me, and to refuse to listen yourself to anything further he may have to say.”
In this advice Charlton snuffed, as he thought, the bad odor of a fee, and he determined not to be guided by it. Laughing scornfully, he said, resuming his seat: “Let the gentleman play out his farce. He hopes to show, does he, that the child diedafterthe father!”
“No, ladies and gentleman,” said Vance, crossing the room, taking Clara by the hand, and leading her forth, “what I have to show is, that she didn’t die at all, and that Clara Aylesford Berwick now stands before you.”
Charlton rose half-way from his chair, the arms of which he grasped as if to keep himself from sinking. His features were ghastly in their expression of mingled amazement and indignation, coupled with a horrible misgiving of the truth of the disclosure, to which Vance’s assured manner and the affirmative presence of Colonel Hyde gave their dreadful support. Charlton struggled to speak, but failed, and sank back in his chair, while Detritch, after having tried to compose his client, rose and said: “In my legal capacity I must protest against this most irregular and insidious proceeding, intended as it obviously is to throw my client and myself off our guard, and to produce an alarm which may be used to our disadvantage.”
“Sir,” replied Vance, “you entirely misapprehend my object. It is not to your fears, but to your manhood and your sense of justice that I have thought it right to make my first appeal. Ipropose to prove to you by facts, which no sane man can resist, that the young lady whose hand I hold is the veritable Miss Berwick, to whom her mother’s estate belonged, and to whom it must now be restored, with interest.”
“With interest! Ha, ha, ha!” cried Charlton, with a frightful attempt at a merriment which his pale cheeks belied.
“There will be time,” continued Vance, “for the scrutiny of the law hereafter. I court it to the fullest extent. But I have thought it due to Mr. Charlton, to give him the opportunity to show his disposition to right a great wrong, in the event of my proving, as I can and will, that this lady is the person I proclaim her to be, the veritable Miss Berwick.”
Moved by that same infatuation which compels a giddy man to look over the precipice which is luring him to jump, Charlton, with a deplorable affectation of composure, wiped the perspiration from his brow, and said: “Well, sir, bring on these proofs that you pretend are so irresistible. I think we can afford to hear them,—eh, Detritch?”
“First,” said Vance, “I produce the confession of Hyde, here present, and of Quattles, deceased, that the infant child of Mr. Berwick was saved by them from the wreck of the Pontiac, taken to New Orleans, and sold at auction as a slave. The auctioneer, Mr. Richard Ripper, is here present, and will testify that he sold the child to Carberry Ratcliff, whose late attorney, T. J. Semmes. Esq., is here present, and can identify Miss Berwick as the child bought, according to Ratcliff’s own admission, from the said Ripper. Then we have the testimony of Mrs. Ripper, lately Mrs. Gentry, by whom the child was brought up, and of Esha, her housemaid, both of whom are now in this house. We have further strong collateral testimony from Hattie Davy, now in this house, the nurse who had the child in charge at the time of the accident, and who identifies her by the marks on her person, especially by her different colored eyes,—a mark which I also can corroborate. We have articles of clothing and jewels bearing the child’s initials, to the reception and keeping of which Mrs. Ripper and Esha will testify, and which, when unsealed, will no doubt be sworn to by Mrs. Davy as having belonged to the child at the time of the explosion.”
“Well, sir,” said Mr. Detritch, with a sarcastic smile, “I think Brother Semmes will admit that all this doesn’t make out a case. Unless you can bring some proof (which I know you cannot) of improper influences being applied by my client to induce his chief witnesses to give the testimony they did, you can make little headway in a court of law against a party who is fortified in what he holds by more than fourteen years of possession.”
“Even on this point, sir,” replied Vance, “we are not weak. Here are five original letters, with their envelopes, postage-marks, &c., all complete, from Mr. Charlton to Colonel Delancy Hyde, offering him and his accomplice their expenses and a thousand dollars if they will come on to New York and testify in a certain way. Here also are letters showing that, in the case of a colored woman named Jacobs, decoyed from Montreal back into slavery, the writer conducted himself in a manner which will afford corroborative proof that he was capable of doing what these other letters show that he did or attempted.”
As Vance spoke, he held one of the letters so that Charlton could read it. The latter, while affecting not to look, read enough to be made aware of its purport. His fingers worked so to clutch it, that Detritch pulled him by the coat; and then Charlton, starting up, exclaimed: “I’ll not stay here another moment to be insulted. This is a conspiracy to swindle. Come along, Detritch. Come, Mrs. Charlton and Lucy.”
He passed out. Detritch offered his arm to Mrs. Charlton. She declined it, and he left the room. There was an interval of silence. Every one felt sympathy for the two ladies. Mrs. Charlton approached Vance, and said, “Will you allow me to examine those letters?”
“Certainly, madam,” he replied.
She took them one by one, scrutinized the handwriting, read them carefully, and returned them to Vance. She then asked the privilege of a private conference with Hyde, and the Colonel accompanied her into the anteroom. This interview was followed by one, first with Mrs. Ripper, then with Mr. Winslow, then with Esha and Mrs. Davy, and finally with Clara. During the day Pompilard had sent home for a photograph-bookcontaining likenesses of Clara’s father, mother, and maternal grandmother. These were placed in Mrs. Charlton’s hands. A glance satisfied her of the family resemblance to the supposed child.
Re-entering the parlor Mrs. Charlton said: “Friends, there is no escape that I can see from the proofs you offer that this young lady is indeed Clara Aylesford Berwick. Be sure it will not be my fault if she is not at once instated in her rights. I bid you all good evening.”
And then, escorted by Captain Onslow, she and her daughter took their leave, and the company broke up.
Charlton, impatient, had quitted the hotel with Detritch and sent back the carriage. They were closeted in the library when Mrs. Charlton and Lucy returned. The unloving and unloved wife, but tender mother, kissed her daughter for goodnight and retired to her own sleeping-room. She undressed and went to bed; but not being able to sleep, rose, put on a lightrobe de chambre, and sat down to read. About two o’clock in the morning she heard the front door close and a carriage drive off. Detritch had then gone at last!
Charlton’s sleeping-room was on the other side of the entry-way opposite to his wife’s. She threw open her door to hear him when he should come up to bed. She waited anxiously a full hour. She began to grow nervous. Void as her heart was of affection for her husband, something like pity crept in as she recalled his look of anguish and alarm at Vance’s disclosures. Ah! is it not sad when one has to despise while one pities! “Shall I not go, and try to cheer him?” she asked herself. Hopeless task! What cheer could she give unless she went with a lie, telling him that Vance’s startling revelation was all a trick!
The laggard moments crept on. Though the gas was put up bright and flaring, she could not have so shivered with a nameless horror if she had been alone in some charnel-house, lighted only by pale, phosphoric gleams from dead men’s bones.
But why did not Charlton come up?
The wind, which had been rising, blew back a blind, and swept with a mournful whistle through the trees in the area. Then it throbbed at the casement like a living heart that had something to reveal.
Why does he not come up?
Why not go down and see?
Though the entry-ways and the stairs were lighted, it seemed a frightful undertaking to traverse them as far as the library. Still she would do it. She darted out, placed her hand on the broad black-walnut balustrade, and stepped slowly down,—down,—down the broad, low, thickly carpeted stairs.
At last she stood on one of the spacious square landings.
What terrible silence! Not even the rattle of an early milk-cart through the streets! Heavenly Powers! Why this unaccountable pressure, as of some horrid incubus, upon her mind, so that every thought as it wandered, try as she might to control it, would stop short at a tomb? She recoiled. She drew back a step or two up,—up the stairs. And then, at that very moment, there was a dull, smothered, explosive sound which smote like a hand on her heart. She sank powerless on the stairs, and sat there for some minutes, gasping, horror-stricken, helpless.
Then rallying her strength she rushed up three flights to the room of Fletcher, the man-servant, and bade him dress quickly and come to her. He obeyed, and the two descended to the library.
Through the glass window of the door the gas shone brightly. Fletcher entered first; and his cry of alarm told the whole tragic tale. Mrs. Charlton followed, gave one look, and fell senseless on the floor.
Leaning back in his arm-chair,—his head erect,—his eyes open and staring,—sat Charlton. On his white vest a crimson stain was beginning to spread and spread, and, higher up, the cloth was blackened as if by fire. The vase-like ornament which had attracted Pompilard’s attention on the library table had been drawn forth from its socket, and the pistol it concealed having been discharged, it lay on the floor, while Charlton’s right hand, as it hung over the arm of the chair, pointed to the deadly weapon as if in mute accusation of its instrumentality.