Three millions! or, The way of the world
my pockets were left upon the body. Even the rings upon my fingers were
transferred to the hand of the dead man.
“To my horror the doctor cut off the head of the corpse, tied it up in
his handkerchief, and put it into the boat. He said this was to prevent
any one from supposing the remains were not mine. We then took the body
out into the channel a little way, fastened a fifty-six pound weight we
found in the boat to it, and sunk it with a rope. He fastened a stone
to the end of the rope, and threw it overboard.”
“What was that for?”
“Dr. Lynch said after the body had laid there a month or so, there
could be no possibility that any friend of the deceased would recognize
it. He intended to make everything perfectly sure. He meant to fish up
the rope some night, and let the body be found, and it would satisfy
all that I was dead. When all this was done, we left the island,
landing near the Point. I left him there, and walked ten miles before
morning. At East Summerville I hired a boy to drive me to Newington, in
his father’s wagon. At this place I took the morning train for Boston,
keeping out of sight in the cars, to avoid being recognized by any one
from Poppleton. I took the first steamer for Liverpool, and made my way
to Italy, where I resided most of the time till my return two months
ago.”
The absorbing interest of these narratives had thrown the eminent
trustees entirely into the shade; but when they were finished, Mr.
Lester proceeded to hand the securities to Eugene, which he did with
the utmost precision and formality.
“Mr. Lester, as a thank offering for the blessings this night has
confirmed to me, not the least of which is my wife, I purpose to carry
out the original intentions of my uncle, so far as the charitable
institutions are concerned,” said Eugene.
“You astonish me, Mr. Hungerford!” exclaimed the chairman of the
trustees, who might, with entire truth, have added that he believed
Eugene was crazy.
“The city of Baltimore was the home of my uncle. His property was
accumulated there; and I deem it no more than right that the place of
his residence should have good reason gratefully to remember him. The
three asylums shall be founded, and half the three millions shall be
appropriated to that purpose. My sister has already received her full
share. If Dr. Lynch had behaved like an honest man, he would have lost
nothing by my marriage with Mary. It has been my intention, from the
beginning, to carry out, not only my uncle’s primary, but also his
secondary intentions. Dr. Lynch has defeated himself. I could have
given him all the will mentioned, with a million still remaining. He
has chosen to serve the devil, and his master has disappointed him.”
“Honesty is the best policy,” laughed Dick.
“Whether it is or not, we should still be honest.”
“A man worth his million and a half can afford to be honest,” said Mr.
Lester.
“And a man who is not worth a penny cannot afford to be dishonest,”
added Eugene, whose ethics seldom agreed with those of the eminent
merchant.
At twelve o’clock the party in the drawing-room separated. Squire
Perkins and his daughter were sent home in the carriage. When the
driver had returned, Parkinson went up to Eugene’s room and knocked at
the door.
“There is great news at the Port, sir.”
“What is it?”
“Dr. Lynch has shot himself through the head.”
The news was true. The discomfited wretch had sacrificed reputation,
character, everything, to win a fortune. If he had won it, he could
have conquered an ill name--it was the way of the world. He had lost
it; and he had nothing to do but to die. He could not face the storm
which might greet him the next day; and all unshrived, he went into the
presence of the Almighty Judge.
Buckstone and his wife remained at Pine Hill that night. In the morning
they departed for New York. A few days after their arrival, a banker
in that city sent for Mrs. Buckstone, and informed her that she was
entitled to draw twelve hundred dollars a year at his office, being the
income of twenty thousand dollars deposited with him for her exclusive
use. Eugene felt that his faithful missionary was deserving of some
tribute of regard. But Buckstone had evidently sown his wild oats, and
Ellen frequently wrote to Mary, speaking in the warmest terms of his
fidelity and devotion to her.
Eugene still continues to dispense his charities, on a large scale, but
as silently as the dews of heaven water the flowers when all men sleep.
Poppleton and paradise are every year becoming more similar under his
influence, though he never expects to realize his highest ideal of a
Christian community.
Ross Kingman has built a new house on The Great Bell, and is a man of
influence in Poppleton. He still enjoys the confidence of his employer,
and is not the less happy for the knowledge that his hand is not
stained with blood.
One night, the gravestone bearing the name of Buckstone disappeared
from the cemetery; but another, with the name of Edward Goodwin, was
placed at the head of the grave. Dick Birch did this work, so that no
questions were asked, no unpleasant remarks made.
Master John Hungerford, Miss Mary Hungerford, and Master Eugene
Hungerford Birch are by far the most important personages at Pine Hill.
Johnnie has passed safely through the measles, but Eugene H. B., on
account of a little vein of obstinacy, probably inherited from his
mother, refused to take them, though Mrs. Hungerford, senior, went over
to “the other house” every day, in order to take the bull by the horns
in good season. But the children are all doing well, and being treated
to an abundance of fresh air we doubt not in due time Master John
Hungerford will be a _millionnaire_.
“Eugene, I think I am a great deal happier than I deserve to be,” said
Mary, one evening after she had put the little ones to bed, and seen
them both drop off into the slumber of innocence.
“You are happy because you are good, Mary.”
“Have you never repented taking me?”
“Repented! I have never ceased to rejoice that you are mine.”
“I owe all my happiness in this world to you.”
“No; to the Good Father, who gives it to you because you are so true
and good.”
“But to you as His minister. I tremble when I think what I might have
been without you, Eugene.”
“My joy has been greater than yours.”
“I was cast out, despised, loathed.”
“But you did not deserve it.”
“=IT WAS THE WAY OF THE WORLD.=”
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Emboldened text is surrounded by equals signs: =bold=.
Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.
New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the
public domain.