Three millions! or, The way of the world
the sheltering rocks, where he had found it. It was certainly more
prudent to sink the letter with a stone, than to tear it up, and throw
the pieces away, for some of them might be found.
Why had not the letter been burned? Dr. Bilks must have written the
forged letter in his office. Did he go over to the island with this
letter in his pocket? or did he return to prepare it after Buckstone
was killed? Dick adopted the latter theory as the more reasonable;
but he made very little progress in his investigation, for the facts
were too meagre to enable him to establish a single point. He reached
Summerville, discharged his team, and procured another to convey him
to Newington, where he intended to take the morning train, and where
Eugene would not be likely to follow him. Dick went his way; went to
Boston; went to New York; went to Philadelphia; went to Ohio; but we
will leave him to pursue his inquiries, and return to Pine Hill.
* * * * *
“Marry Dr. Bilks,” repeated Eugene, as he drove home. Certainly the
doctor’s frequent visits--all of which could not be regarded as
professional--pointed in this direction. He was more than a physician
to her, and yet Eugene had hardly thought of the possibility of such an
event as his sister becoming Mrs. Bilks. He had hoped and believed that
Dick would be his brother-in-law; but his friend’s sensitiveness had
driven him from the field, leaving it open to the doctor.
As Eugene did not wish to believe that Dr. Bilks had artfully conspired
to expel Dick from Pine Hill, he found evidence enough in his memory
to convince him that such had not been the fact. He was laboring to
satisfy himself that both the doctor and Dick were honest and true men,
and he finally came to the conclusion that his friend was jealous--that
the green-eyed monster was the cause of all his troubles. He would
return to the hotel, see Dick again, and persuade him not to leave
Poppleton.
“Well, Eugene, what was the result of the examination?” asked Julia, as
he entered the sitting-room.
“Dick was discharged.”
“O, I am so glad!” exclaimed she.
“Dick is sorry.”
“How can that be?”
“He thinks his character has not been vindicated.”
“Poor fellow! He is too sensitive.”
“I know he is. Julia, what do you think of Dr. Bilks?” demanded Eugene,
abruptly.
“You know what I think of him, Eugene,” she replied, coloring slightly,
as though she feared that the gossips’ story was to be rehearsed by her
brother.
“Do you think he is an honest man?”
“Certainly I do.”
“Do you think Dick Birch is an honest man?”
“Certainly I do.”
“Both of them cannot be.”
“I am sure they are.”
“Dr. Bilks says he saw Dick on the Point Road the night of the murder;
Dick says he was in his chamber.”
“The doctor may be mistaken.”
“He swears, in court, with no qualification whatever, that he saw him
with Buckstone. Dick swears to the contrary. One of them has perjured
himself. Which is it?”
“Neither; there is some mistake.”
“Julia, do you love Dr. Bilks?”
“What a question!”
“This is a very serious matter; let us consider it before it is too
late. Will you answer me? Do you love him?”
“I never thought of such a thing!” exclaimed she.
“Do you love Dick Birch?”
“I never thought of such a thing!” she replied, laughing in her
confusion.
“Do you like either of them?”
“Both.”
“Be candid with me, Julia.”
“I am, entirely so.”
“You evade my questions.”
“Indeed, I do not! I like them both.”
“Do you love either of them?”
“No.”
“If either of them had sincerely offered you his hand and heart, would
you have accepted him?”
“How should I know?” laughed Julia, to whom these interrogatories were
exceedingly distasteful.
“You know that Dick loved you.”
“I ought to know it; he made oath that he did on the stand in court.”
“I am very serious, Julia; and you treat the matter too lightly.”
“As neither Dr. Bilks nor Dick ever spoke a word to me on the subject
to which you allude, how can I answer you?”
“Could you have loved Dick well enough to accept him?”
“I could; but I did not.”
“Can you love Dr. Bilks well enough to accept him?”
“I can; but I don’t,” laughed Julia.
“Do you regard his present attentions as merely professional?”
“Friendly, as well as professional.”
“You are not blind, Julia.”
“I am not.”
“You can see what the doctor means.”
“I do not know that he means anything.”
“You must be satisfied that he loves you. Why, he spent seven eighths
of his time at Pine Hill, when you were sickest! I don’t think he
slept an hour a night for a fortnight. The whole town began to cry out
against him because he neglected other patients for you. When you were
out of danger, he still came six times where he need have come but
once. He has sent special messengers to Boston after grapes and flowers
for you. Does all this mean nothing?”
“I think he likes me--loves me, if you please,” replied Julia, more
seriously than she had before spoken.
“And you encourage him?”
“He is my physician; I cannot very well discourage him. He has never
spoken a word to me of love. I cannot refuse his flowers, or decline to
ride or walk with him, without giving him pain. I am very grateful to
him for what he has done. What can I do, Eugene?”
“If you do not love him, you ought not to encourage him.”
“I do not dislike him; and I cannot decline his attentions. If he asks
me to walk, it is for my health; if he asks me to ride, it is because
a ride will benefit my health. He has done nothing which any one might
not do for a sick friend.”
“Of course you expect him to make some progress.”
“What do you think I am, Eugene?” demanded she, impatiently. “I expect
nothing. I do not dislike him; that is all I can say.”
“Julia, Dick Birch says that Dr. Bilks is an artful, cunning villain.”
“I do not think any better of Dick for saying so,” replied Julia,
indignantly.
“Dick honestly believes it.”
“He must not expect me to believe it.”
“You used to think that what Dick said was law and gospel.”
“He did not use to say such things as that.”
“Julia, Dick is going to leave Poppleton--never to return, he says.”
“Of course he has good reasons for going.”
“Do you condemn him, Julia?”
“Far from it! I am sorry for him. I should not think he would go away
while everybody doubts his integrity.”
“Julia, have you lost all your regard for Dick?”
“No, Eugene.”
“Which do you like best--him or Dr. Bilks?”
“I cannot answer such questions. I don’t know. I always liked Dick very
much. I looked upon him as my best friend, as well as yours. After his
confessions on the stand, I thought it best that we should be less
intimate. It seems that Dick thought so himself, for I have not seen
him since.”
“The best evidence in the world of his noble and generous nature! He
loved you too well even to subject you to any invidious remark. He
suffers himself to save you from annoyance.”
“Poor fellow!”
“Dr. Bilks is near you all the time, while Dick is self-banished from
your presence. But, Julia, you must not encourage Dr. Bilks.”
“Must not?”
“Of course I mean you ought not to do so--at least for the present.”
“I do not mean to encourage him. I am not a beau-hunter.”
“Do not commit yourself, either in word or deed, until this mystery
has been solved; until we know whether Dick or the doctor, or both, or
neither, is the scoundrel. There is something wrong somewhere. I do not
know where. I am completely befogged and bewildered. Like yourself, I
cannot condemn either of them. Both are my friends; but one of them
must be wrong.”
“Which, Eugene?”
“I don’t know.”
“You have an opinion.”
“There is much that I cannot explain on both sides. Let us wait.”
“Certainly we shall wait; we cannot do otherwise.”
“But, Julia, you must check the doctor.”
“I see nothing to check.”
Julia could not even answer to herself whether she loved Dr. Bilks
or Dick. Both of them were friendly, both agreeable. In a comparison
of the characters of the two gentlemen, the advantage was in Dick’s
favor; but her gratitude to the doctor for his kindness and devotion
during her sickness more than offset the other’s advantage. She did
not think of a husband, save in the abstract; if she had, perhaps she
would have considered one as eligible as the other, and would have been
prepared to accept him who spoke first. She did not yet love either,
though both were lovable. With one so fair, so young, so accomplished,
love could not exist without its complement. A loving look, a sweet
word, a pressure of the hand, would have developed the treasures of her
affection. She waited, unconsciously, for these tokens; if Dick had
given them, probably he would have been accepted; and the same was true
of Dr. Bilks.
Julia made no promises; they seemed unnecessary to her. Perhaps
she knew less of her own heart than others knew of it. She was not
hungering and thirsting for a husband. Fortune had been over lavish
to her, and she was too much enamoured of Pine Hill, too much devoted
to her mother and her brother, to think of leaving them without the
strongest of provocations. Probably she expected to be a wife some
time; but she regarded a husband as she did the airs of heaven, that
came unbought and unsought. She thought that he who was to be her
all-in-all must be the gift of God, in some special manner, and she
floated on the tide, a creature of fate and circumstances. She could
not possibly marry one she did not love, and she waited unresistingly
for her heart to speak her destiny.
Eugene drove down to the Port again, after he had, as he believed, made
a proper use of Dick’s solemn warning. He was very nervous, uneasy,
perplexed, and anxious, as a man in prison when life and hope are
without its walls. He wanted the truth, which should enable him to
decide between his two friends, now doubly necessary for Julia’s sake
as well as his own. If he could not satisfy himself, he might comfort
Dick, and enable him to wait with patience till the final judgment
could be pronounced.
He drove up to the hotel. Dick had gone--had taken his trunk, and left
with no present intention of returning. Where he had gone no one knew;
the man who had driven him to Summerville had not yet returned. When
he did return, Eugene hastened to pursue his friend, and win him back.
Late in the evening he returned to Pine Hill. Dick was fleeing even
from him.
CHAPTER XXIV.
POPPLETON GOSPEL.
The long summer and part of the autumn wore heavily away to Ross
Kingman, within the walls of the county jail, before his trial took
place. The grand jury had found a true bill against him for the murder
of Eliot Buckstone; and he waited hopefully for the time when a jury of
twelve men should justify him for the deed he had done.
The months wore away less heavily at Pine Hill, though the Hungerfords
were not without their trials and anxiety. Millions of money could not
purchase exemption from the common lot of humanity. A hundred thousand
in the Poppleton Bank, and the same sum invested in stocks and real
estate, did not banish a single care from the mind of Eugene. He loved
and feared, he hoped and desponded, like the poor man who fed his
children by his daily labor. The loss of Dick Birch, even for a time,
was a severe trial to him, in connection with the doubt and uncertainty
which environed the name and reputation of his friend.
Dr. Bilks still came often to Pine Hill; still sunned himself in the
smiles of Julia. He loved her; but he made no progress. The solemn
warning of Dick Birch had not been in vain; and when the enthusiastic
wooer found himself ready to speak tenderly and confidentially on
the subject nearest to his heart, Julia darted away from him. It so