Three millions! or, The way of the world
account, I shall trouble you to give me a check for the balance of my
salary.”
Dick Birch, though his hand trembled, and his lip quivered, buttoned
his coat, and took up his hat, which lay on the library table.
“Dick, have you joined the conspiracy against me?” demanded Eugene.
“No.”
“You know how all this vexes me; how it wounds and crushes me.”
“I will leave you, then.”
He moved towards the door.
“Stop, Dick; you cannot mean to give me the cold shoulder now?”
“Hungerford, I am the sufferer, not you. You have nothing to lose; I,
everything. You banish me, and I go.”
“What do you mean by that? Sit down, Dick, and let us talk over this
matter.”
“No, Hungerford. I will not talk about it, even. If you believe me
capable of deceiving you, I have not a word to say.”
“Dick, will you answer me one question?” demanded Eugene, earnestly.
“I will.”
“Did you see Buckstone last night?”
“No.”
Eugene was staggered by this reply--a single, plain, unadorned negative.
“How is it possible?” continued he, “that----”
“I will answer no more questions,” interposed Dick, firmly. “You would
not believe me if I did; and my self-respect does not permit me to
speak when my truthfulness is suspected. To the sheriff, to the court,
I can do this; to you I cannot. If others do not believe me, I will not
complain; they have no reason to trust me.”
“I will believe you--I do believe you,” protested Eugene.
“You will try to do so, doubtless. Your conversation since tea, you
told me just now, related to me.”
“How could it relate to any other person or thing, after what occurred
on the beach to-night?”
“With the sheriff, you tried to prove that I left the house last night,
after you retired--so Parkinson tells me,” added Dick, bitterly.
“On the contrary, we tried to prove that you had _not_ left the house.”
Perhaps the sheriff was trying to prove one thing while Eugene tried to
prove the opposite.
“It would be better to say we were trying to ascertain the truth,”
added Dr. Bilks.
Dick looked at the doctor, as though a word from him was out of place;
but he said nothing.
“Of what else do you suspect me, Hungerford?”
“I suspect you of nothing, Dick. It is cruel for you to put yourself in
such an attitude.”
“I am under suspicion: can you deny this, Hungerford?”
Eugene bit his lip. He could not equivocate. He was perplexed with
many doubts. It seemed impossible that any other person than Dick
should have been the man with Buckstone on the beach, and it was just
as impossible that his friend should utter a deliberate falsehood.
The evidence of the handkerchief and cigar, and the opinion of Ross
Kingman, were hardly needed, though everything was against Dick.
“You do not answer.”
“I cannot deny that I have believed you were the person, Dick.”
“That is quite enough, Hungerford. My relations with you and yours are
too delicate, too important, to be trifled with for an instant. If you
can believe, if you can suspect, that I was in treaty with Buckstone,
as represented, it follows that I was doing so from personal and
selfish motives.”
“Not at all, Dick; there may have been a dozen reasons why you should
have conducted such a negotiation privately. I had no doubt of your
motives.”
“You must have doubted them; but I do not blame you, Hungerford. Dr.
Bilks had probably told you my views in regard to Mary. I was afraid
you would marry her.”
“We have been entirely free in this matter,” said Dr. Bilks, in silky,
apologetic tones.
“I do not complain. I must say one thing more, in confidence,” added
Dick, glancing at the door; and his face flushed as he spoke. “Though
I have never confessed it to you, much less to her, I love your sister
Julia. I thank God she knows nothing of it!”
“I think she does, Dick. A man’s looks and actions cannot be wholly
meaningless. I knew it; so did others.”
“So much the worse for me--and for her!” exclaimed Dick, sadly and
bitterly. “What is patent to us will be so to others. All the world
will believe that I was hiring Buckstone to marry Mary, at the time
he was killed--doing it in the dark--and for what? To prevent Eugene
Hungerford from marrying her! I confess this was half my thought, for
I loved you too well, Hungerford, to see you throw yourself away upon
one who, in the eyes of the world, was defiled. It was for your sake,
as well as for hers, I made the proposition last night, to which you
assented. But what will the world say?”
“Never mind what the world says.”
“I must be above suspicion. What follows?”
“Never mind what follows, Dick. I understand you. Your motives were
pure and friendly. You meant to serve me. You were right; I would have
made Mary my wife, if the marriage with Buckstone had been illegal.”
“It was legal enough, if it could be proved; but there is no
certificate, no record, nothing even to prove that any ceremony was
performed. Though the man who married them were an impostor, the
legality of the union is not thereby affected; but we cannot prove
that either of the parties consented, or even that a mock ceremony was
performed. If there was any marriage, it was legal; but we can prove
nothing, and Buckstone repudiated it--deserted and abandoned the girl.
For these reasons it was necessary that Mary should be married again. I
thought so, and felt so, and, with your knowledge and consent, intended
to have her married again, but not without.”
“It is all clear enough, Dick.”
“No, it is not. One thing follows another, until it appears that I
am laboring to prevent you from carrying out the provisions of your
uncle’s will. Hungerford, I know this has never occurred to you.”
Eugene was silent. Dr. Bilks opened a book.
“Such a thought never darkened your mind, Hungerford,” continued Dick;
“but others will say, if I should ever be seen with your sister again,
that I”--he struggled with the thought--“that I keep you a bachelor in
order to marry half a million with Julia.”
“Why should they think so?”
“Because it is natural that low-minded and selfish men should
suspect the motives of others. Such a thought never occurred to you,
Hungerford, but it has made my brain whirl with agony, since we parted
on the beach. In what a damnable position am I placed!”
Eugene was still silent, and Dr. Bilks did not seem to approve all
Dick’s statements and conclusions, for he occasionally turned and
twisted in his chair.
“If Julia thinks kindly of me now, she would spurn me as an unclean
reptile, if the thought came to her mind.”
“Dick, I must be candid: this thought has occurred to me, but only to
be rejected and cast out as a suggestion of the devil.”
Dr. Bilks winced.
“I need not wonder at it, though I did not think it. Now you understand
me. I must go.”
“No, Dick, you shall not go,” protested Eugene.
“I did not intend to speak of anything but business when I came. I will
not stand in a false position. I will not be suspected of marrying for
money.”
“Now you have stepped upon my ground, Dick,” said Eugene, with a smile.
“I would not marry for three millions--only for love.”
“I know not that Julia would have consented--perhaps it was wrong for
me to mention her name. It is all past now.”
“Not at all. Nothing would have pleased me so well as such a marriage.”
“It cannot be now--at least not till you are married, and John
Hungerford is born.”
“You are cheating yourself, Dick.”
“I will not take a step where my motives can be suspected. I am not
free from suspicion, even in your partial eyes.”
“You are.”
“No--you have suspected me. I have not intended to utter a word to
remove your suspicion. We part, Hungerford.”
“No, Dick.”
“It must be so. I do not blame you. I am still your friend.”
“This is cruel.”
“More cruel to me than to any one else.”
“It is unnecessary.”
“Can I stand by you in these intimate relations while I am accused
of base and unworthy practices? No, Hungerford. If it be the will of
God that I shall be purged of this stain, we shall meet as friends
again; if not, never. I will speak a word to Julia as I go. Good night,
Hungerford.”
“I shall see you to-morrow.”
“I am summoned as a witness at the examination of Ross to-morrow. We
may meet then.”
Dick Birch left the library, and entered the room where the ladies
were. He briefly stated that circumstances had occurred which rendered
it necessary for him to absent himself from the house. He shook hands
with Mrs. Hungerford and with Julia, neither of whom dared to ask him
any questions. He betrayed some emotion as he parted with Julia, and
she could with difficulty repress the tears that struggled in her eyes.
Dick went forth from the mansion he had reared and beautified, like the
wanderers from Eden, sad and disturbed.
“What do you think now, Dr. Bilks?” demanded Eugene in the library, as
the door closed behind the parting friend.
“I hardly know what to think,” replied the doctor.
“The thought which you suggested to me, you perceive, has already
occurred to him.”
“That was the worst feature in the interview. I was not entirely
satisfied with his appearance or his explanation.”
“You were not?” said Eugene, with much surprise.
“I am afraid he has had the thought about the half million too long in
his mind. It was the first thing, evidently, that came to him when the
little cloud of trouble appeared. I was pained to hear him mention his
danger, for it proved that he had been thinking of it.”
“You wrong him. A person of his noble nature is always sensitive.”
“If he had no thought of wrong, it would hardly have occurred to him
when the plan miscarried.”
“You have already condemned him.”
“No, far from it; I hope Mr. Birch will be able to make it apparent
that he had no selfish motives.”
Dr. Bilks spoke as a man disturbed by doubts and fears, but who was
sincerely anxious that those doubts and fears should be removed. He
staid till quite a late hour, and suggested various plans by which Dick
could be extricated from his unfortunate position; but Eugene had too
much faith in simple integrity to believe in any plans. When the doctor
took his leave, Julia came into the library with her mother. She was
sad and gloomy, and her looks sufficiently indicated her interest in
Dick. Eugene told them enough of what had transpired to explain the
rupture with Dick, and assured them it would soon be healed.
“I know he never had a thought of anything wrong,” said Julia.
“I do not think he had.”
“There is no reason why he should conceal his meeting with Mr.
Buckstone from you, if he did meet him.”
“None that we know of; but Dick says he was anxious to make Mary the
legal wife of Buckstone, to prevent me from marrying her.”
“To prevent you from marrying her!” exclaimed Mrs. Hungerford.
“Of course Eugene never had such a thought,” added Julia to her mother.
“I had no such thought before I came home,” said Eugene, who considered
this a good opportunity to inform his mother and sister of his purpose.
“Have you now?” demanded Mrs. Hungerford, full of motherly anxiety.
“I have, mother; I intend to make her my wife as soon as possible.”
“Eugene!”
“You cannot mean so!” ejaculated Julia.
“I am entirely in earnest.”
“Marry Mary Kingman!” exclaimed his mother.
“Why not?”
“Why not? Sure enough, why not!” said Mrs. Hungerford, more excited, if
not more indignant, than she was wont to be.
“Why not?” Eugene asked, quietly.
“How can you ask such a question?”
“Isn’t Mary a good girl?”
“Well, she was a good girl.”
“Isn’t she now?”
“I do not wish to say anything to hurt your feelings, Eugene; but you
know yourself that what has happened makes her notorious; and this
terrible murder will not improve her reputation. She has been town talk