Three millions! or, The way of the world
moment. Even Mary, who would have given all the world six years before
to prove her first marriage, was painfully anxious to have it declared
illegal.
“Do not mock us, Dick,” said Eugene, fearfully agitated.
“I speak only the truth, Hungerford. The God of eternal justice does
not permit this wretch to desolate your happy home. Be calm, Mary,”
added Dick, as he moved towards the door.
“The proof, Mr. Birch--the proof!” said Dr. Lynch, with triumphant
assurance.
Dick left the room.
“That is the last of him,” sneered the doctor. “Abuse proves nothing. I
have been foully wronged and ill-treated by that man. Yet I am expected
to be patient, and to be gentle and conciliatory. Mr. Hungerford, it
has been your misfortune to have a bad adviser.”
“Silence, sir!” said Eugene, sternly.
“As you please. I am not disposed to annoy you in any manner. Between
you and me this matter can be speedily adjusted, but you must send Mr.
Birch away.”
“Mr. Birch is my friend; I will hear no abuse of him from you.”
“This is a plain case, as you perceive. Here is Mr. Buckstone himself;
he is the best kind of evidence.”
“And here is Mrs. Buckstone herself!” shouted Dick Birch, leading Miss
Thompson into the room.
The baby had been troublesome, and she had volunteered to sit by the
crib when the party left the supper table.
“Who?” demanded Dr. Lynch, with a broad laugh.
“Mrs. Eliot Buckstone,” replied Dick.
“I think not,” sneered the wretch.
“Ellen!” exclaimed Buckstone, starting back as Miss Thompson came
forward.
“O, Eliot!” cried she, bursting into tears, and sobbing as though her
heart would break.
“What farce is this?” asked the doctor, beginning to look a little pale.
“This is a part of the old farce,” added Dick.
“Who is this woman?” gasped Dr. Lynch.
“She is my wife,” replied Buckstone, hanging his head with shame.
“Have you deceived me? Have you made a fool of me?”
“You were that in the beginning. Knaves and fools are twin brothers,”
said Dick.
“If I did deceive you, I was deceived myself,” replied Buckstone.
“Is this woman your wife?” hissed the doctor, now so agitated by
stirring emotions that he could hardly speak.
“She is.”
“When were you married to her?”
“Seven years ago.”
“Was it a legal marriage?”
“It was.”
“I have the certificate,” added the weeping lady, who now began to
comprehend the situation.
“Then you have deceived, duped, cheated me!” cried the doctor.
“Unintentionally I have; but, from the deepest depths of my heart, I
thank God that your villanous conspiracy has come to grief!” added
Buckstone, fervently.
“Good! There is some hope of you, Buckstone,” exclaimed Dick.
Eugene threw his arms around the neck of Mary, and pressed her to his
bosom. She smiled in her tears; she did not think that she had been no
wife when she married him who stood by her side, and folded her to his
heart. The world was not there; it could not frown.
Dr. Lynch flew up and down the room, smarting under the sting of
this final defeat, the object of contempt and reprobation to all who
beheld him. The last half million had eluded his grasp; his dream of
wealth was exploded; his vision of vengeance was dissipated in the most
crushing blow he had ever received.
“Keep cool, doctor,” said Dick, in taunting tones.
The discomfited wretch paused before him, boiling over with passion.
Dick laughed in his face, and he dared not resent it.
“We begin to understand the past as well as the present,” said Eugene.
“The doctor’s confession was the biggest lie of all,” added Dick. “I
think we had better look up the facts at once, while the doctor is
present.”
But the convicted villain at these words rushed from the house.
“No matter,” laughed Dick. “There is a hole in this millstone. Mr.
Buckstone, you acknowledge that this lady is your wife,” he added,
nodding to Miss Thompson.
“I do; and if she can forgive me, I will endeavor to atone for the
wrong I have done.”
“Freely, Eliot,” said she, giving him her hand. “If you are truly
sorry, and mean to shun your evil ways, I cannot reproach you.”
“I have hated this business from the beginning; but after I had been
paid for it, I could not honorably refuse to complete the contract.”
“When were you married to Miss Thompson?” asked Dick.
“Seven years ago, at Eastport.”
Buckstone told his story. On a visit to Eastport, while he was a
student of art, he had fallen in love with Ellen Thompson, whose father
was a sea captain. They were married, and went to New York. They lived
happily for a year, when Buckstone’s dissolute habits destroyed their
peace. He was a periodical drunkard. For three, six, or even twelve
months he entirely abstained from the cup, and then his period of
dissipation lasted from four to twelve weeks. In one of these seasons
he abandoned his wife, and she was left destitute, as Mary had been.
She wrote to her father, and the indignant parent hastened to her
assistance. He conveyed her to his home. She was an only child, and her
mother was dead. Captain Thompson resolved that she should never return
to her husband; but the stricken wife refused to be comforted. Her
hopes had been wrecked.
Captain Thompson was appointed to the command of a brig for a voyage to
the West Indies and back. He could not leave Ellen alone in her misery,
and he thought the sea voyage would benefit her health, and help her to
forget her grief. She went with him. Before her departure she wrote a
letter to Buckstone, whom she still loved in spite of his bad conduct,
inviting him to send his reply to Gonaives. This was the last he knew
of her, until he met her in the drawing-room at Pine Hill.
Three months after the receipt of her letter, Buckstone saw in the
newspapers an account of the wreck of Captain Thompson’s vessel, and
the loss of all on board, except the negro cook. He had written to
her, as requested, but now his wife was dead. He was sober then, and
he grieved for the lost one; and he was sincere, though his volatile
nature could not long cling to a sorrow.
Ellen was not lost; she was not even in the brig when she was wrecked.
On the passage out, she had become a great favorite with an English
lady, whose husband was a merchant in Gonaives. On her arrival in
Hayti, she was warmly welcomed at the house of her friend, and, as her
father intended to make another voyage to the same port immediately,
she was persuaded to spend a few months in the family of the merchant.
Captain Thompson, finding her so well contented with her new friends,
and thinking the change would be mentally and physically beneficial to
her, raised no objections to the continuation of the visit. The news
of the wreck of the brig and the loss of her father was a heavy blow;
but having no friends at home, she remained with the family of the
merchant for some months.
Her husband’s letter reached her, though long delayed, and she
determined to return to him. She wrote to him, announcing her
intention, and sailed for New York. She expected to be folded in his
arms when she stepped on shore; but no husband greeted her, and she
began to search the city for him. She found his last residence, and
there heard the terrible story of his murder in Poppleton--an event
which had occurred three months before her arrival.
At this time Dick Birch was in New York, inquiring into the antecedents
of Buckstone. One of the persons to whom Ellen applied referred her to
him for information. Her sad story was told. She was a penniless woman.
Dick took her to the home of his father, on his return, and finally she
was installed as the missionary at Poppleton, at his suggestion. He had
advised her to resume her maiden name, and to conceal her relations
with Buckstone. He was not altogether satisfied, at first, that she was
the wife of Buckstone; for it was possible that he had deceived her,
as he had Mary. In Poppleton it would injure her to be known by her
husband’s name. It was the way of the world to condemn without much
inquiry. It could not be pleasant to Eugene and Mary to be reminded of
the past by his name. Whether he was right or wrong, he deemed it best
for all that Ellen’s previous history should be studiously concealed.
It was simply a measure of humanity, for he had no suspicion that
Buckstone was still living. There was no question of the marriage now;
no one denied it.
“Mr. Buckstone, we supposed you were killed,” said Dick, when the story
of Ellen had been collated from both parties.
“I was not.”
“I supposed the blow I gave you would have killed any man,” added Ross.
“I should certainly have perished if Dr. Bilks had not saved me.”
“Explain how it was,” said Dick.
“I was thrown off the cliff; I don’t know whether the water partially
restored me to consciousness, or whether I struggled; but the first
distinct recollection I had was of being on the beach with the doctor.
What he did for me I don’t know, but I was as well as ever in half an
hour, with the exception of a terrible pain in my head, caused by the
blow I had received. I did not get over it for a month. Dr. Bilks----”
“Dr. Lynch is his real name,” interposed Dick.
“Dr. Lynch, then, explained what he wanted of me. He had sent for
me, and offered me a thousand dollars if I would publicly marry Miss
Kingman. I intended to claim my wife again, but I wanted the money. I
had always been short of funds. He wished me to marry her to prevent
Mr. Hungerford from doing so. If I spoke of any doubts in regard to the
legality of the marriage in Providence, it was only to get the money
offered to me.”
“What did the doctor say he wanted of you?” asked Dick, when Buckstone
exhibited a tendency to enlarge upon his own excuses.
“He laid out the plan just as he has carried it out. It would appear
on the following day that I had been murdered by Ross Kingman. This
was what he wanted, he said; he wished Mr. Hungerford to marry Mary
then, if I would do as he wished me to do. He proposed to give me three
thousand dollars a year for six years if I would assist. The offer
blinded my eyes, and----”
“You accepted it.”
“I did; and he stipulated that I should leave the town before morning,
and remain in some foreign land until he needed my attendance. Mary
would apparently be a widow. I told him how to procure the evidence of
our marriage, and gave him a letter to Dorning. Hungerford would make
her his wife, and live in perfect confidence with her until the time
when the three millions would come to him by the conditions of his
uncle’s will. Dr. Bilks, or Dr. Lynch, explained the whole matter to
me. At the right time I was to appear, claim Mary as my wife, and thus
prove that the child was illegitimate, if there was one.
“I had been wishing for years to go to Italy to study art. The means
were now within my hand, and the doctor promised to remit the three
thousand dollars to me every year. He has done so faithfully and
punctually; though I hoped he would fail, for I was disgusted with the
business.”
“What did you do while on the beach? We found a body at the bottom of
the channel which was identified as yours.”
“There had been a man by the name of Goodwin drowned that day. The
doctor took me into the boat, and rowed down to the cliff, where he had
found the body wedged in among the rocks. We conveyed it back to the
beach. We then went to the doctor’s office, where I wrote the letter to
Dorning, and he wrote something--I don’t know what. He gave me a suit
of his clothes, and a draft on New York for three thousand dollars, the
first instalment of the reward. I put on the clothes, and we returned
to the beach. The garments were removed from the corpse, and mine
substituted for them. My wallet, porte-monnaie, and all the contents of