CHAPTER XIITHE SOMNAMBULIST
The day after the dance passed rather quietly, as the young people were tired and preferred lounging upon the piazzas or under the trees to any great exertion. The costumes taken from the cedar chest had been carefully folded and returned to it, ready for the next time, Amy said. The folding and putting away had fallen to Sherry, who took the dresses and jewelry to the attic, laying them carefully in the chest and pausing a moment to open what proved to be the family Bible of Eli Crosby, and which was near the bottom.
“Oh, I wish I could have this,” she thought, and was about to examine it further when Amy came up the stairs, and she closed the book hastily, noticing, as she did so, that it contained two or three loose papers. “Some business papers of grandfather Crosby’s, I dare say,” she thought, and all day her mind was upon the cedar chest and its contents.
As the afternoon drew to a close a thunder storm came up and the night shut in hot and sultry. The young people were tired, and after a few ineffectual efforts to enjoy themselves, as Alex. wished them to do, they retired to their rooms, and at a very early hour quiet had settled upon the house. Alex. wassleeping soundly when there came a knock upon his door and Amy’s voice called to him, “Alex., Alex., are you awake?”
“Yes,—no. What is it? Is the house on fire?” he answered drowsily; and Amy continued in a whisper, “Dress you and come quick. There’s some one in the attic.”
“Nonsense!” Alex. said, springing up and soon joining his sister, who explained that she and Ruth had heard footsteps going up the stairs and then had heard them overhead.
They could not be mistaken. There was some one in the garret, probably the same who had moved the chest,—a burglar, perhaps, and she advised Alex. to bring his revolver or call Charley Reeves.
“Nonsense!” he said again, going with his sister and Ruth to the hall, at the end of which were the attic stairs, where they stopped to listen.
There certainly was some one in the attic moving cautiously, when he moved at all, and Alex. at once started to go up. But Amy held him back.
“Don’t, don’t,” she whispered. “You might get hurt. Whoever is there must come down. We can sit here and wait. You have your revolver?”
“Revolver. No,” Alex. answered, sitting where Amy bade him sit on a bench against the wall, which here made a little curve or alcove, so that while they could see distinctly any one coming down the stairs they could not be seen.
“There, he is coming,” Amy and Ruth both exclaimed, clutching Alex. and holding their breath asfootfalls were heard upon the stairs and a glimmer of a light began to show itself in the darkness of the hall.
Amy and Ruth were trembling violently, while Alex. felt a little nervous as the light grew brighter and the steps came nearer. Then, with a smothered exclamation, he rose to his feet as Sherry came into view, carrying the brocade dress and the box of jewelry in one hand and in the other a candle, which she held raised directly in front of her, while she seemed to be looking steadily at it. She had on her dressing-gown and slippers, and her hair was falling over her shoulders. Her face was very pale, with a fixed and strained expression upon it, as if she were in pain or feeling her way over some dangerous place.
“It is Fanny. Who would have thought her a thief?” Amy gasped, while Alex.’s “Sh-sh!” came warningly.
“Don’t you see she is asleep?” he said, and Amy continued, “Let’s wake her, then.”
“No, wait,” Alex. answered, curious to know if Sherry would return to the attic for more goods.
She entered her room and they heard her moving around.
“Hiding the things,” Amy said excitedly, but Alex. kept her quiet until Sherry reappeared, candle in hand, and went to the attic again.
She was not gone long, and when she came back she had the old Bible under her arm and walked very slowly, saying, as she was opposite them, “I’m so tired and this is heavy, but it is mine.”
“Hers,” Amy repeated, in so loud a tone that Sherry stopped as if to listen, but neither turned her head nor her eyes.
Then she went into her room and shut the door.
“Aren’t you going in to wake her now?” Amy asked, and Alex. replied, “Certainly not. It would frighten and mystify her.”
“Yes, but my dress and jewels! She is welcome to the old Bible,” Amy continued; and Alex. replied, “They are safe. When she finds them in the morning she will put them back or bring them to us, and feel crushed and humiliated, no doubt. Go to bed, and hold your tongues. No one but ourselves need know what we have seen. The poor girl has had her mind so full of the dresses and is so tired working on them as she did and then waiting upon us so late last night that she is walking in her sleep. Not the first time probably.”
He was ready to find excuses for her, and told his sister a second time to hold her tongue. It was not in Amy’s nature to hold her tongue when there was an occasion to loosen it, and the occasion came at once. Mrs. Groves, whose room was at the end of the hall, and who boasted that she slept with one eye open, had heard the sound of voices, and coming from her room to investigate, met Amy and Ruth.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Why are you here in your dressing-gowns, and what’s that light doing at this time of night?”
She pointed to the light shining over the open transom of Sherry’s door, and started in that direction.
“Don’t go there,” Amy said in a mysterious whisper, and then the whole story came out, Mrs. Groves listening with an incredulous sneer and look of exultation.
“I always mistrusted her and believed there was some mystery back of her, but didn’t think she’d be up to quite so barefaced an act.”
“But Alex. thinks she’s asleep,” Amy said, and Mrs. Groves replied: “That’s a ruse to cover up the theft if discovered. She told one of the maids yesterday that she was homesick and believed she should go home. If she is asleep she will see the things in the morning and either take them back or tell you about it. If she does neither, depend upon it they are in her trunk and she is going to leave.”
This seemed feasible, and with their minds a good deal unsettled with regard to Sherry, Amy and Ruth returned to their rooms. Early the next morning they stole up to the attic, finding Mrs. Groves there before them, looking into the chest, diving to the bottom and pulling the articles out. With an ominous shake of the head she said to them: “I told you so; they are not here, and she has been down more than an hour. She must have seen them. They are in her trunk. Sleep-walking! Fiddlesticks! I walked just as much.”
“Seems as if she wanted to prove the girl guilty,” Amy said, as she went down to the piazza, where she found Alex. and told him of Mrs. Groves’ suspicions.
“Don’t you believe her,” he said. “She has neverliked the girl. She is always finding fault with her because she seems superior to the others, and is glad of a chance to hurt her.”
And still he felt anxious, knowing Sherry must see the articles if they were in her room, and wondering what she would say. He found her standing by his mother’s chair as usual when he went in to breakfast, and noticed how pale she was, with dark rings around her eyes, and how languidly she moved, as if very tired. Mrs. Marsh knew the story by this time, and half the guests besides, and Sherry felt instinctively that she was an object of more interest than usual as she waited upon the table. For aught she knew she had slept soundly. She had not dreamed, and could not account for her headache and weakness and the dreadful nausea which sometimes nearly overmastered her. A great aversion to the place had taken possession of her, with a desire to leave it.
“I don’t think it agrees with me,” she thought. “I’ll make that an excuse and give notice this very day. I’ve had enough of it.”
“I expected it,” Mrs. Groves said, when some time during the morning Sherry announced her wish to leave, saying she was not feeling well and had not for some days.
“Mountain air is usually thought very healthy,” Mrs. Groves said with a snap in her voice, “and your duties certainly are not so very great that you need to complain.”
“I am not complaining of the work,” Sherry replied.“That is easy enough. But something ails me and I want to go home.”
“I expected it,” and Mrs. Groves’ lips shut firmly together. “Will you go to-day?”
“Oh, no,” Sherry answered, a good deal disturbed by Mrs. Groves’ manner, which had never been quite as aggravating as it was now. “I will stay till you fill my place.”
Mrs. Groves had not expected this. She thought Sherry would be glad to go at once before her theft was discovered, and she was anxious to be rid of her.
“No necessity for your waiting a day. We can manage very well. Polly is good for two tables, and some from the Reeves’ table leave to-morrow, but keep your place till after lunch,” was Mrs. Groves’ vinegary response, and Sherry left her with a feeling that she had been dismissed, rather than dismissed herself, and also with a feeling of uncertainty as to whether she really wished to go.
There had not been as much fun in her lark as she had anticipated, but,—and she colored to the roots of her hair as she thought of Alex., whom she might never see again. But what did it matter? She could never be more to him than a girl whom he had employed, and to whom he had been kind, as he was to every one. She would go home, and start that afternoon if her head stopped aching. It was throbbing painfully, and black specks were floating before her eyes, sometimes obscuring her vision and again making her see double. “There is something the matter, and the sooner I get home the better,” shethought, and finding a cool place on the piazza, she sat down to rest until it was time for lunch, the last meal at which she would serve.
Meanwhile Mrs. Groves had been busy. Sherry’s offer to stay until her place was filled did not look like guilt, but Mrs. Groves’ mind was unchanged, and she hastened to report to Amy that No. 1 had given notice and was going that afternoon.
“That proves her guilt conclusively, and I told you so. Better see to it at once before she gets away. She ought to be made an example as a warning to the other girls,” and her head and chin and the flabby flesh under it shook as she said it.
“What would you propose if we found the missing articles in her trunk? You would not have her arrested here?” Amy asked.
Her sympathy was a good deal with Sherry, whose look of suffering appealed to her.
“Of course I would not have her arrested, although she deserves it,” Mrs. Groves replied. “Take the things away, and let her know that we all know her for what she is,—a thief!”
The word had an ugly sound to Amy, and still uglier to Alex. when applied to the girl in whom he found he had so great an interest. He fully believed in the sleep-walking, and had hoped that the articles would be returned to the chest, or that Sherry would speak of them. Neither had happened, and urged by Amy he made up his mind to ask her if she ever walked in her sleep.
“It is just to the girl to give her a chance to defendherself against Mrs. Groves, who, I must say, is very bitter against her. I’ll do it,” Alex. said; “but will wait till after lunch, when Craig Saltus will be here. He must know of the girl’s family in Buford, where he has a country house. I’ll ask him about them. Craig always braces me up.”
Craig had written that he would arrive on the eleven o’clock train, but Sherry knew nothing of it till lunch time, when she was rather late at her post. Her head was still aching frightfully with that nausea so hard to bear. Two or three times she had sat down overcome by dizziness before she could rally sufficient strength to go to the dining-room, where the sight and odor of the food nearly overmastered her as she moved slowly up to her table after all were seated, seeing the back of a strange man, but never dreaming who it was until she stood beside him.
“Why, Miss Sherman, you here! This is an unexpected pleasure. Alex. never told me,” Craig exclaimed, offering her his hand, and as quickly as he could, on account of his lameness, getting upon his feet and beginning to pull out the vacant chair next to him.
Then sense and sight for a moment forsook Sherry, who would have fallen if Alex., too, had not risen and taken her arm.
“There is a mistake, and there has been one all the time,” he said to Craig, who was looking at one and then another, but mostly at Sherry, whose white apron and cap struck him at last.
He knew what they meant, but why was she wearingthem, and why did Mrs. Marsh and Amy and Ruth seem so bewildered and Alex. so nervous, and why was Sherry so white?
An awful dizziness was coming over her again, and the black specks were thick before her eyes. Turning to No. 4, she said:
“Polly, will you take my place? I must have air.”
She was white as a corpse, and the rings around her eyes grew darker as she left the room, with Alex. beside her.
“What is it, Miss Sherman?” he said, adopting the name Craig had given her. “Why have you never told us you were Craig Saltus’ friend?”
“I don’t know,” Sherry answered faintly, as she sat down on the side piazza, where she had waltzed with Alex., and where the dog came bounding to her and began to lick her cold hands. “Go back,” she said to Alex. “I shall be better alone. By and by I’ll tell you why I was so foolish.”
Alex. went back, finding his mother and Amy and Ruth in a state of great excitement, and Craig quite as much surprised, as each listened to the other and told what they knew of the young lady,—Miss Sherry Sherman, Craig called her, repeating to Alex. what he had already said to the ladies.
“One of the very best families in Buford,” he said. “We know them well; and Rose is very fond of Sherry and her sister Katy.”
“Sherry,” Alex. exclaimed. “I thought her name was Fanny.”
“So it is in part,” Craig answered; “Fanny Sheridan Sherman, but she is called Sherry in Buford.”
“Craig,” Alex. gasped, a light beginning to break upon him, “is she related to old Pledger?”
“To Joel Pledger? Yes. You saw her in the box with him, you know, and asked me who she was.”
“But you didn’t tell me her name. You said his grand-niece,” Alex. replied. “She interested me then. She has puzzled me ever since she came here. Why did she come?”
This question no one could answer, although Craig tried to do so.
“I think she is a little erratic by nature,” Craig said. “I know she is fond of adventure, and probably the fancy struck her, as it does many young girls, to have some diversion in this line. You must have seen she was a lady?”
“Always,” Alex. exclaimed. His interest in Sherry increased tenfold now that he knew she was the girl seen in old Pledger’s box and never forgotten.
Amy said nothing. She was thinking of the dress and the jewelry, and wondering how they were to approach the subject. Questioning Fanny Sheridan Sherman, daughter of a clergyman and friend of Craig Saltus, was different from questioning No. 1. Alex. too, was worried, but it must be done, and the sooner it was off his mind the better. Going to the piazza, where he had left Sherry, he found her still there, with her eyes closed and the traces of tears on her face.
“Miss Sherman,” he began, drawing a chair beside her, “I can’t tell you how surprised I am, and glad that—” he began to stammer, not knowing how to finish the sentence, for Sherry’s eyes were open now and fixed upon him. “Yes, I’m glad,” he went on, “and when you are feeling better you will tell me about it. Now I must speak of something else,—something imperative. Did you ever walk in your sleep?”
Instantly a look of terror leaped into Sherry’s eyes, and her hands grasped the arms of the chair in which she was sitting.
“Yes,” she answered, “when I was a child. I hoped I had outgrown the habit, but it came back to me some days ago and I took the key.”
“What key?” Alex. asked, and Sherry told him the story of the key, leaving out her dream of her grandmother and only saying, “I dreamed some one told me where it was.”
Alex. was more puzzled than ever. Why was she so interested in the chest and its contents? He would ask her later. He must get over the most important part at once, and he said: “The brocade and jewelry and Bible disappeared last night. Do you know where they are?”
For a moment he thought Sherry had fainted, she sat so still and looked so white, and he put his hand on the one of hers nearest to him, and as she opened her eyes and looked at him he said, “Don’t feel so badly; try and remember.”
Then she rallied and said in a choking voice: “No,I don’t know where they are. Did I walk in my sleep, and is that why I feel so dizzy and tired this morning, just as I used to feel?DidI walk in my sleep?”
Alex.’s hand was still on hers, and he felt her cold fingers closing tightly round it; and there was the pallor of death on her face as he told her what he saw.
“Oh,” she gasped, “this is dreadful! You saw me, and it must be true; but I do not remember dreaming at all as I usually do. I must have put the things in my closet. I did not see them as I opened the door this morning to hang up my dress. Your sister and Miss Doane saw me last night, too? Will you ask them to go with me to my room?”
“Let me see you there first,” Alex. suggested, and Sherry did not refuse his help.
Her strength seemed to have left her, and her feet dragged heavily as she climbed the back stairs.
“Sit here till I return,” Alex. said, placing her in a chair near the door and hurrying off for his sister and cousin, whom he found talking to Craig Saltus and telling him of last night’s adventure.
“I remember hearing that she walked in her sleep when a child,” he said. “She was little more than that when we first went to Buford. The whole town knew of it and were interested. She and Rose were great friends, and Rose had her once to spend the night with her, and she scared us all by getting up at midnight and starting for home.”
This swept away any doubt Amy and Ruth mighthave had with regard to Sherry, and they went with Alex. to her room, where she was sitting with her head dropped as if asleep, but she roused up when they came in, her lips quivering with a pitiful smile as she said: “I didn’t know what I was doing. I have no remembrance of it. I never used to have when I woke. There was only a sick, dizzy, tired feeling, as if I had walked miles, or been terribly frightened. It is dreadful, and you saw me with them. They must be in the closet. Please look. I can’t.”
Amy and Ruth did the searching, while Alex. stood by Sherry, whose face was spotted when they brought out the brocade, which was hanging inside the closet where it could not be seen, if one merely opened the door as Sherry had done in the morning. The jewelry and Bible came next, and the three were placed upon the bed just as Mrs. Groves appeared in the doorway. She had been that morning to see a friend who was to leave that day and had just returned. Consequently she had not heard of Mr. Saltus’ arrival, or of the scene at the table, nor of all that followed, filling the entire staff in the kitchen with wonder. She had started directly for her room, and hearing voices as she passed Sherry’s door, looked in with a sinister expression on her face as she saw the articles on the bed and Sherry sitting white and limp in a chair, with Alex. standing over her as if to prevent her escape.
“So you’ve found ’em,” she said. “I thought you would. Were they in her trunk?”
Instantly the terrible truth flashed upon Sherry that this woman believed her a thief, and it roused all her strength and courage. Springing to her feet and confronting her foe, she began: “And do you dare insinuate that I took the things knowingly and meant to carry them off? It is a fitting end to all the little mean tyrannies you have heaped upon me ever since I came. I have tried my best to serve you well, and you reward me by intimating that I am a thief. Oh, I can’t bear it. Will no one stand between me and this dreadful woman?”
She was terribly excited, and her hands went up, beating the air frantically for a moment; then she stretched them toward Alex., as if asking for help, which he promptly gave. Taking her hands in his, he turned to Mrs. Groves and exclaimed: “Woman, leave this room at once, and never again be guilty of such an insinuation against Miss Sherman.” And Mrs. Groves left, so astonished and shocked that she fairly ran through the hall to her own room, where she sat down more shaken up than she had ever been in her life. Was the world turning topsy-turvy and she turning with it? And was Alex. Marsh crazy, and why should that girl dare to talk so to her, Mrs. Groves, matron of Maplehurst, whom all the servants held in awe, if not in fear? What did it mean? She heard what it meant when Amy came to her after the interview with Sherry was over.
“Well, I never!” Mrs. Groves exclaimed, when the story came to an end. “Been masquerading as somebody else, has she? Do you call that honest and aboveboard?”
Amy had undertaken Sherry’s championship, and she meant to carry it through.
“Certainly,” she replied. “She told you her name was Fanny Sherman, from Buford, didn’t she?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Groves admitted rather reluctantly, and Amy continued: “That was true, and if she wished to hire out as a waitress she had a right to do so. She has made a good one, and I am sorry for her. We are all sorry.”
Mrs. Groves dared not say to Amy all that was in her mind. She did not like Sherry, and she did not mean to like her if she belonged to a hundred good families and Craig Saltus had known her all her life. But she was quelled, and with her head high in the air excused herself, as she must see to some of her household affairs.
“I hope the girl is not going to be sick here. The land knows we have enough to do, and we are awful short with her being off.”
Amy did not reply, and Mrs. Groves departed for the kitchen, talking to herself as she sometimes did when excited. Returning to Sherry’s room, Amy began to fold up the dress, which still lay upon the bed, and as she did so she said to Sherry: “May I ask why you are so interested in the chest?”
Sherry hesitated, and then replied, “Because I think it belongs to Katy and me.”
“Belongs to you!” Amy repeated. “What do you mean?”
Sherry felt that she could not talk much longerbefore her strength gave out. There were lumps in her throat and a buzzing in her ears, and she saw things through a cloud of spots. Everything was slipping from her. She must explain quickly if she explained at all, and she began very rapidly:
“It was my great-grandmother’s, Mrs. Crosby. She is buried across the way, and because she once lived here I had a fancy to come when I saw Mr. Marsh’s advertisement; mother and Katy opposed me, but I was self-willed; the romance of the affair appealed to me. I wanted to see Maplehurst. I could not come as a guest and so I came as a waitress. I knew many young ladies did such things, and I thought I’d try it. Aunt Pledger of New York, who used to be here, told me of the chest and its contents, and said they were mine and Katy’s, if still in existence. I did not stop to reason that when Mr. Marsh gave the house to your brother he probably gave him all there was in it. I was a foolish girl from the beginning. I thought it would be fun to come to my grandfather’s old homeincog. It has been anything but fun, and now it has come to this! Seeing the dresses and cutting into them worked on my brain and brought back the trouble of my childhood, making me seem like a thief.Shethinks so, Mrs. Groves. She has never liked me. All the rest have been most kind.”
Sherry’s voice was now a whisper, for the lumps in her throat were choking her and rising higher and higher, until with her last words she broke into hysterical sobs, while her tears ran like rain through the fingers she pressed upon her face.
“Oh, Sherry, Sherry!” Alex. said, calling her by the name he thought the sweetest in the world. “Don’t cry like that! You frighten me. It is all right; everything is right. The chest is yours and everything in it. Don’t cry! Speak to her!”
He turned to Amy and Ruth, who stood appalled, not knowing what to say. Amy’s wits came first, and going up to Sherry she said: “We are surprised, but we believe you and are sorry you are taking it so hard. You are tired and overwrought. Lie down. Rest will do you good.”
Telling Ruth to put the dress and jewels and Bible back in the chest, Amy made Sherry lie down, spread a wet towel on her hot face and head, closed the blind to shut out the light, and then, with Alex., left the room, saying to him, when he suggested sending for a physician: “Wait awhile, she may be better to-morrow, and she does not want it talked about.”
CHAPTER XIIIFINDING THE WRONG
That night Nos. 2, 3 and 4 took turns caring for Sherry, who had grown weak so fast that she could scarcely lift her head from the pillow. They knew now something of her story, and the most exaggerated rumors were afloat concerning her antecedents and why she was there.
“I never believed she was like us, or likeme, anyway,” Polly said. “She had an air about her different, and that old hen of a Groves was always naggin’ her. I hate her!”
It was Polly who stayed the longest with Sherry, and who said to Alex. in the morning, “I think she’s awful sick and needs some one with her all the time. I’d stay with her if I didn’t have to wait upon the table. Mrs. Groves is crosser than a bear because there are only three of us, and Mr. Saltus here.”
Alex. did not reply, but it was a troubled face he took to his guests. He could not feel merry with that sick girl upstairs, and many times during the morning he stole to her door to inquire how she was.
As the day wore on Sherry did not rally, but lay with closed eyes, noticing no one except Alex. At the sound of his voice she always looked up and smiled,saying once when he asked if she wished anything, “I want Katy.”
They sent for Katy, who, on her way to Maplehurst, stopped in New York and told Mrs. Pledger of Sherry’s illness.
“For gracious’ sake!” that good woman said. “Sherry sick! I shall go with you and take a trained nurse. It will cost something, of course, for they ask abominable prices, but for once I can afford it, and Sherry must not die for want of care. I have taken a great fancy to her.”
One of the best trained nurses in New York was found, and the three, Mrs. Pledger, Katy and the nurse, reached Maplehurst one afternoon, greatly to the disgust of Mrs. Groves, who did not yet believe Sherry’s illness serious. She was nervous and tired and wanted to be let alone instead of having so much coddling. The girls, Nos. 2, 3 and 4, could sit up with her nights by turns, and if necessaryshewould for one night stay with her. She thought this a concession worthy of a martyr’s crown. She did not know Katy had been sent for, and great was her surprise and consternation when the ’bus from the station deposited three women at the door, one of whom, Mrs. Pledger, at once took possession of everything pertaining to Sherry, even overshadowing the nurse in her orders and putting Mrs. Groves quite in the background. The kitchen was invaded at all hours, first by the nurse, who came in the discharge of her duties, and next by Mrs. Pledger, who came because she must see what was going on and give heropinion. Katy stayed mostly with Sherry, who had smiled in token that she knew her and Mrs. Pledger, and had then fallen into a stupor from which it was hard to rouse her. Even Alex.’s voice failed. A slight movement of her head was all the response she gave when asked if she knew him. She was very ill, and a doctor from Bethlehem came every day, and most of the guests departed and a great hush fell upon the house where there had been so much hilarity. Alex.’s good times were slipping away, but he did not care. It had come to the point where Sherry was more to him than all the good times in the world, and if she died he would never know another, he said to himself, as he hovered near her door, or sat with Craig Saltus, who at his request remained at Maplehurst, and with whom he talked freely of Sherry and his feeling for her. He had been interested in her when he saw her at the opera. He had been interested in her ever since she came to Maplehurst.
He had stood between her and Mrs. Groves two or three times. He had waltzed with her on the piazza and felt a stir in his pulse such as no other girl had ever awakened, and when in her abasement at Mrs. Groves’ cruel blow she had stretched out her hands to him as if for help and he had taken them in his, the work was completed and he knew that he loved her. Several times a day he went to the door of her room to see if anything was wanting, and the rest of the time he sat upon the piazza or under the maple tree, sometimes with Craig Saltus and sometimes with only the dog lying at his feet in a most subdued state,never even noticing when a rabbit ran across the road to its home in the hillside. The dog had been to Sherry’s room during the first of her illness and looked at her with wondering eyes. Then, failing to get any notice from her, he had gone downstairs and out into the yard where Alex. was sitting, and lifting up his head gave vent to his feelings in a howl which made Alex.’s blood curdle as he grasped the dog’s throat and stopped him, talking to him as if he could understand that quiet was necessary if he would have his mistress live. He called Sherry his mistress, and the dog seemed to comprehend and never again gave vent to a sound which superstitious people, and some who are not superstitious, think a portent of evil. Every morning, however, he went to the door of Sherry’s room, gave a low “woof-woof” by way of greeting, and then trotted back, sometimes to his kennel, but oftener to Alex., who felt his sympathy and was glad of his companionship.
From the first Mrs. Pledger had taken to Alex. as a young man “with as little nonsense as was often found in a city prig.” Every day she reported Sherry’s progress, and was the first to take the good news to him that the crisis was passed and Sherry much better. Then, sitting down beside him she began to talk of her uncle Crosby and his wife who died so young.
“I don’t remember just how old she was,” she said. “Twenty-four or five. It must be recorded on the grave-stone and in the family Bible in the chest, which is nearer. I’ll go and see.”
Mrs. Pledger was never quite happy unless she knew the exact date of the age she was hunting up. Leaving Alex. she went to the attic, and taking the Bible from the chest turned to the record of deaths. As she did so two papers fell out. Ruth had seen them when she carried the Bible back, but feeling that they did not concern her, had not glanced at them. Mrs. Pledger was of a different temperament. She wanted to know what they were, especially the one so yellow and tender that it almost came to pieces in her hand. It proved to be a deed given by Eli Crosby to Amos Marsh more than fifty years before. The other paper, which was much fresher, was a sheet of foolscap folded like a letter, marked “Private” and directed to “Alexander Marsh.” But for the “Private” Mrs. Pledger would have opened it, but that deterred her, and she took both papers to Alex., who was in his usual seat under the maple. For a few minutes Mrs. Pledger stood, hoping Alex. would open the letter, but he didn’t, and she turned to go, then stopped and said:
“I forgot to tell you that she was twenty-five and six months.”
Alex. scarcely heard her or knew whom she meant. He was looking at the deed with a presentiment as if that yellow document were a message of evil to him. In the excitement of the good times he had been having at Maplehurst he had scarcely thought of the wrong he was to right, though he had fancied it had something to do with the farm. Of course he should right it if he ever found what it was, he said, andhad dismissed it from his mind. Now, however, it came back to him with this time-worn deed, which he read twice, wondering why it remained in Mr. Crosby’s possession when by right it belonged to his Uncle Amos, who should have kept it with his papers.
“Possibly the letter will throw some light on it,” he thought, and opening it at last he read it, while the cold sweat came out on his forehead and hands, making him shiver, although the day was hot.
“Nephew Alexander,” it began, “I’m here in what was once my home, so-called, though never mine by right. I’m a wicked old man on the verge of the grave, and I cannot die till I have confessed a secret which I have borne for years because I had not courage to face the world which thinks me so good. I’m not good. I’m false to the core, and this is my story:
“Eli Crosby and I were fast friends. What one knew the other knew. If one wanted a favor the other granted it, and we helped each other over difficulties. He was a good man, free as water with his money, and when a friend asked his name to a note of four thousand dollars he gave it against my advice. Then, as some ugly rumors reached him, he came to me and said, ‘I’ll bet I’ll have to pay that note, and if so it will take my farm. I’ve nothing else. What shall I do?’
“I thought a moment, and said: ‘Deed it to me and give out that you have done so, but keep the deed yourself. The farm will be as much yours as it is mine, and when the trouble is over, if there is trouble, I will deed it back and no harm will be done.’
“I don’t think he was quick to grasp an idea, but I made him understand, and when he hesitated and asked if it wasn’t a fraud, I said: ‘If it is it is often practised, and may save your farm.’
“He went through the form, the deed was drawn but was never delivered to me, but kept in his family Bible, where it is now. As God is my witness, I meant fair and honest at first. His wife was dead. I never married. Both of us were alone, and at his request I came to live with him as at my own home and called it mine. Three months after the transaction he went West and was brought back dead,—killed on the railroad. Two months later I heard the note was paid, and then the devil entered into me. I liked the farm, and did not want to give it up, or tell of the fraudulent sale, as I would have to do. Eli’s only daughter had married and died, leaving a son, who had been sent through college and given a few thousand dollars, all Eli could spare. Where he was I didn’t know. Eli was not quite pleased with his daughter’s marriage, and after sending her boy to college, did not try to keep track of him. To make the story short, I did not tell that the place was not legally mine, and when people wondered what Eli had done with the price of the farm I knew no more than they did. There was a little from the sale of some of his effects, and a little in a bank. To this I added a thousand dollars, and sent it to the young man, Eli’s grandson, who, by inquiry, I found was studying for the ministry. Then I settled down to enjoy my farm, but never knew a moment’s real happiness.That deed haunted me and Eli haunted me, too, till I could endure it no longer. As I would not add another sin to my soul by selling the farm when I could not give a clear title, I abandoned it and went to Denver. I saved all I could and put it in banks, feeling that some time I should make restitution. Eli’s grandson was the Rev. Henry Sherman, who preached in Buford, Mass. I kept track of him after I found where he was. He is dead, but he has a widow and two daughters living. The farm is rightfully theirs, and the money too, the way I figure it. The ranch and Denver house are really mine. I bought them with means honestly my own.
“I might write all this to Harry’s widow, but I’d rather tell you, my own kin. I have been to New York and seen Joel Pledger, whose wife was Eli’s half sister. I’ve known her since she was a child. She was here once. I asked about you and your family. Joel knows everybody, whether dead beats or honest men. He spoke well of your reputation: ‘Fashionable, but not fast,’ he said.
“I am on my way home and have stopped at the old farmhouse, which is more haunted than ever. Rats and noises everywhere. Some things I left have been stolen, but, for a wonder, nobody has broken into the chest. It is heavy to handle. I found it under the rafters just where I pushed it when I left. The Bible is in it and the deed, and I made up my mind to write the whole thing out and put it in the Bible, with the deed. I am sure you will find it some day. It is hardly in nature that you will not open the chest,you or your mother or sister. Bowles, the man who has had things in charge, has looked after them pretty well and knows there are women’s clothes in it,—Mrs. Crosby’s clothes, which I have taken out and aired. I shall hang the key on a little nail at the back of the chest, where it has hung for years. Somebody will find it.
“Sometimes I think I’ll go back to New York and tell you everything or hunt up those Shermans and tell them. But I can’t, I can’t; so I write the story and pray God you may find it when I am gone. My lawyers have urged me to make a will, but don’t you see, I’d have to tell why the farm and the money in the bank was not mentioned. I’m a coward, but am trying to make restitution and right the wrong. The old place does not seem worth much in the present condition of the house, but, much or little, it is theirs. Forgive your old uncle, and find those girls.
“Amos Marsh.”
“Amos Marsh.”
“Amos Marsh.”
“Amos Marsh.”
This was the letter, and for a few minutes Alex. felt as if all power to move had left him. There was a blur before his eyes, and still the glare of sunlight hurt them, and he closed them to shut it out. Then he opened them and looked around him—at the handsome house, where he had had such good times and hoped to have more; at the stretches of pasture, where his cows were feeding; at the meadows and fields, where his men were gathering a late growth of hay, and at the wooded hills in their cool summer dress. “It is a goodly heritage, but not mine,” he said, witha groan, just as Amy came out and sat down beside him, asking why he looked so sad, and if they could not have out more of their friends now Sherry was better.
“Read that,” he said, giving her the letter.
She read it, growing white and rigid as she read, and saying in a whisper: “Oh, Alex., Maplehurst is not ours! It is theirs!” and she nodded towards the room where Sherry lay in a sleep which was giving back her strength, while Katy sat beside her.
“Yes, it is Sherry’s,” Alex. replied, thinking only of her, and feeling the pain grow less because it was Sherry and not a stranger who was to take Maplehurst from him.
“What will you do?” Amy asked, and Alex. replied, “Make reparation, of course.”
He had met the wrong and would right it as soon as Sherry was able to be told. It was well for Alex. that Craig Saltus was still there, for in him he found a tower of strength and a safe adviser. Craig had studied law a little and knew what was to be done and how to do it.
“It is hard on you,” he said to Alex., after he had heard the story, and Alex. replied: “Yes, but it would be harder if any one but Sherry were the usurper.”
Craig looked at him a moment, and then said: “I think I know what you mean. I have guessed it all along and am glad for both of you. Sherry is the finest specimen of sweet young girlhood I ever knew. Too impulsive, perhaps, and fond of adventure, aswas proven by her coming here as she did. I may tell you now that I don’t know what I might have done but for my infirmity, which will keep me from ever marrying.”
Alex. began to protest, but Craig stopped him. “I know my value in one way, but hold myself too high ever to ask anyone to marry a cripple. If she said yes, it would be for my money. I wish you success.”
He walked away and sat down alone for a moment to think of the happiness which was probably in store for Alex. and could never be his.
Then he began to feel how much Sherry had been in his mind since he first met her in Buford,—a merry, sunny-faced girl, no more impressed with him because of his money than with the poorest men of her acquaintance. He had felt shocked to find her at Maplehurst as other than a guest, but her illness had followed so quickly that he had scarcely given anything else a thought, and now this affair of the deed was crowding it entirely from his mind. He had seen Alex.’s growing interest in Sherry, and had said to himself: “She is worthy of him, and I am glad for his sake that she is one of the heirs of Maplehurst.” Everything he could do to adjust matters Craig resolved to do, and at once set himself about it so quietly and thoroughly that Alex. left everything in his hands and devoted himself to Sherry, waiting anxiously for the day when it would be safe to tell her.