Macaria

by Augusta J. Evans

  CHAPTER III

  THE MISSING WATCH

  Whether the general rule of implicit obedience to parental injunctionadmitted of no exceptions, was a problem which Irene readily solved; and onSaturday, as soon as her father and cousin had started to the plantation(twenty-five miles distant), she put on her hat, and walked to town.Wholly absorbed in philanthropic schemes, she hurried along the sidewalk,ran up a flight of steps, and knocked at a door, on which was written inlarge gilt letters "Dr. Arnold."

  "Ah, Beauty! come in. Sit down, and tell me what brought you to town soearly."

  He was probably a man of fifty; gruff in appearance, and unmistakably abachelor. His thick hair was grizzled, so was the heavy beard; and theshaggy grey eyebrows slowly unbent, as he took his visitor's little handsand looked kindly down into her grave face. From her infancy he had pettedand fondled her and she stood as little in awe of him as of Paragon.

  "Doctor, are you busy this morning?"

  "I am never too busy to attend to you, little one. What is it?"

  "Of course you know that Mrs. Aubrey is almost blind."

  "Of course I do, having been her physician."

  "Those cataracts can be removed, however."

  "Perhaps they can, and perhaps they can't."

  "But the probabilities are that a good oculist can relieve her."

  "I rather think so."

  "Two hundred dollars would defray all the expenses of a trip to New Orleansfor this purpose, but she is too poor to afford it."

  "Decidedly too poor."

  His grey eyes twinkled promisingly, but he would not anticipate her.

  "Dr. Arnold, don't you think you could spare that small sum without muchinconvenience?"

  "Really! is that what you trudged into town for?"

  "Yes. I have not the necessary amount at my disposal just now, and I cameto ask you to lend it to me."

  "Do you want the money now?"

  "Yes, if you please; but before you give it to me I ought to tell you thatI want the matter kept secret. No one is to know anything about it--noteven my father."

  She looked so unembarrassed that for a moment he felt puzzled.

  "I knew Mrs. Aubrey before her marriage." He bent forward to watch theeffect of his words, but if she really knew or suspected aught of the pastthere was not the slightest intimation of it. Putting back her hair, shelooked up and answered--

  "That should increase your willingness to aid her in her misfortunes."

  "Hold out your hand; fifty, one hundred, a hundred and fifty, two hundred.There, will that do?"

  "Thank you! thank you. You will not need it soon, I hope?"

  "Not until you are ready to pay me."

  "Dr. Arnold, you have given me a great deal of pleasure--more than I canexpress. I----"

  "Don't try to express it, Queen. You have given me infinitely more, Iassure you."

  Her splendid eyes were lifted toward him, and with some sudden impulse shetouched her lips to the hand he had placed on her shoulder. Something likea tremor crossed the doctor's habitually stern mouth as he looked at themarvellous beauty of the girl's countenance, and he kissed her slenderfingers as reverently as though he touched something consecrated.

  "Irene, shall I take you home in my buggy?"

  "No, thank you, I would rather walk. Oh! Doctor, I am so much obliged toyou."

  In answer to Irene's knock, Electra opened the cottage door, and usheredher into the small room which served as both kitchen and dining-room.Everything was scrupulously neat, not a spot on the bare polished floor,not a speck to dim the purity of the snowy dimity curtains, and on thetable in the centre stood a vase filled with fresh fragrant flowers. In alow chair before the open window sat the widow knitting a blue and whitenubia. She glanced round as Irene entered.

  "Who is it, Electra?"

  "Miss Irene, aunt."

  "Sit down, Miss Irene; how are you to-day?"

  "Mrs. Aubrey, I am sorry to hear your eyes are no better."

  "Thank you for your kind sympathy. My sight grows more dim every day."

  "You shan't suffer much longer; these veils shall be taken off. Here is themoney to enable you to go to New Orleans and consult that physician. Assoon as the weather turns cooler you must start."

  "Miss Irene, I cannot tax your generosity so heavily; I have no claim onyour goodness. Indeed I----"

  "Mrs. Aubrey, don't you think it is your duty to recover your sight ifpossible?"

  "Yes, if I could command the means."

  "You have the means; you must employ them. There, I will not take back themoney; it is yours."

  "Don't refuse it, auntie, you will wound Irie," pleaded Electra.

  There was silence for a few seconds; then Mrs. Aubrey took the hands fromher face and said,--"Irene, I will accept your generous offer. If my sightis restored, I can repay you some day; if not, I am not too proud to beunder this great obligation to you. Oh, Irene! I can't tell you how much Ithank you; my heart is too full for words." She threw her arm round thegirl's waist and strained her to her bosom, and the hot tears fell fast onthe waves of golden hair. A moment after, Irene threw a tiny envelope intoElectra's lap, and without another word glided out of the room. The orphanbroke the seal, and as she opened a sheet of note-paper a ten-dollar billslipped out.

  "Electra, come to school Monday. The enclosed will pay your tuition for twomonths longer. Please don't hesitate to accept it if you really love

  "Your friend IRENE."

  Thinking of the group she had just left, Irene approached the gate and sawthat Russell stood holding it open for her to pass. Looking up she stopped,for the expression of his face frightened and pained her.

  "Russell, what is the matter? oh! tell me."

  "I have been injured and insulted. Just now I doubt all people and allthings, even the justice and mercy of God."

  "Russell, 'shall not the righteous Judge of all the earth do right?'"

  "Shall the rich and the unprincipled eternally trample upon the poor andthe unfortunate?"

  "Who has injured you?"

  "A meek-looking man who passes for a Christian, who turns pale at the soundof a violin, who exhorts to missionary labours, and talks often aboutwidows and orphans. Such a man, knowing the circumstances that surround me,my poverty, my mother's affliction, on bare and most unwarrantablesuspicion turns me out of my situation as clerk, and endeavours to brand myname with infamy. To-day I stand disgraced in the eyes of the community,thanks to the vile slanders of that pillar of the church, Jacob Watson. Icould bear it myself, but my mother! my noble, patient, suffering mother! Imust go in, and add a yet heavier burden to those already crushing out herlife. Pleasant tidings, these I bring her; that her son is disgraced,branded as a rogue!"

  There was no moisture in the keen eye, no tremor in the metallic ring ofhis voice, no relaxation of the curled lip.

  "Can't you prove your innocence? Was it money?"

  "No, it was a watch, which I gave up as security for drawing a portion ofmy salary in advance. It was locked up in the iron safe; this morning itwas missing, and they accuse me of having stolen it."

  He took off his hat as if it oppressed him, and tossed back his hair.

  "What will you do, Russell?"

  "I don't know yet."

  "Oh! if I could only help you."

  She clasped her hands over her heart, and for the first time since herinfancy tears rushed down her cheeks. It was painful to see that quiet girlso moved, and Russell hastily took the folded hands in his, and bent hisface close to hers.

  "Irene, the only comfort I have is that you are my friend. Don't let theminfluence you against me. No matter what you may hear, believe in me. Oh!Irene, Irene! believe in me always!"

  He held her hands in a clasp so tight that it pained her, then suddenlydropped them and left her.

  Mrs. Aubrey recognized the step and looked round in surprise.

  "Electra, I certainly hear Russell coming."

  He drew near and touc
hed her cheek with his lips, saying tenderly--

  "How is my mother?"

  "Russell, what brings you home so early?"

  "That is rather a cold welcome, mother, but I am not astonished. Can youbear to hear something unpleasant? Here, put your hands in mine; now listento me. You know I drew fifty dollars of my salary in advance, to pay Clark.At that time I gave my watch to Mr. Watson by way of pawn, he seemed soreluctant to let me have the money; you understand, mother, why I did notmention it at the time. He locked it up in the iron safe, to which no onehas access except him and myself. Late yesterday I locked the safe asusual, but do not remember whether the watch was still there or not; thismorning Mr. Watson missed it; we searched safe, desk, store, could find itnowhere, nor the twenty-dollar gold piece deposited at the same time. Noother money was missing, though the safe contained nearly a thousanddollars. The end of it all is that I am accused as the thief, and expelledin disgrace for----"

  A low, plaintive cry escaped the widow's lips, and her head sank heavily onthe boy's shoulder. Passing his arm fondly around her, he kissed her whiteface, and continued in the same hushed, passionless tone, like one speakingunder his breath, and stilling some devouring rage--

  "Mother, I need not assure you of my innocence. You know that I never couldbe guilty of what is imputed to me; but, not having it in my power to provemy innocence, I shall have to suffer the disgrace for a season. Only for aseason, I trust, mother, for in time the truth must be discovered. I havebeen turned out of my situation, and, though they have no proof of myguilt, they will try to brand me with the disgrace."

  For a few moments deep silence reigned in the little kitchen, and only theInfinite eye pierced the heart of the long-tried sufferer. When she raisedher head from the boy's bosom, the face, though tear-stained, was serene,and, pressing her lips twice to his, she said slowly--

  "'Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to tryyou; as though some strange thing happened unto you. For whom the Lordloveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.' I willwait patiently, my son, hoping for proofs which shall convince the world ofyour innocence. I wish I could take the whole burden on my shoulders, andrelieve you, my dear boy."

  "You have, mother; it ceases to crush me, now that you are yourself oncemore." He spoke with difficulty, however, as if something stifled him, and,rising hastily, poured out and drank a glass of water.

  "And now, Russell, sit down and let me tell you a little that is pleasantand sunshiny. There is still a bright spot left to look upon."

  Stealing her hand into his, the mother informed him of all that hadoccurred during Irene's visit, and concluded by laying the money in hispalm.

  Electra sat opposite, watching the change that came over the face she lovedbest on earth. Her large, eager midnight eyes noted the quick flush andglad light which overspread his features; the deep joy that kindled in histortured soul; and unconsciously she clutched her fingers till the nailsgrew purple, as though striving to strangle some hideous object thrustingitself before her. Her breathing became laboured and painful, her gaze moreconcentrated and searching, and when her cousin exclaimed: "Oh, mother! sheis an angel! I have always known it. She is unlike everybody else!"Electra's heart seemed to stand still; and from that moment a sombrecurtain fell between the girl's eyes and God's sunshine. She rose, and asilent yet terrible struggle took place in her passionate soul. Justice andjealousy wrestled briefly; she would be just though every star fell fromher sky, and with a quick uncertain step she reached Russell, thrustIrene's note into his fingers, and fled into solitude. An hour later,Russell knocked at the door of an office, which bore on a square tin platethese words, "Robert Campbell, Attorney at Law." The door was partiallyclosed, and as he entered an elderly man looked up from a desk, coveredwith loose papers and open volumes, from which he was evidently makingextracts. The thin hair hung over his forehead as if restless fingers hadploughed carelessly through it, and, as he kept one finger on a half-copiedparagraph, the cold blue eye said very plainly, "This is a busy time withme; despatch your errand at once."

  "Good morning, Mr. Campbell; are you particularly engaged?"

  "How-d'ye-do, Aubrey. I am generally engaged; confoundedly busy thismorning. What do you want?"

  His pen resumed its work, but he turned his head as if to listen.

  "I will call again when you are at leisure," said Russell, turning away.

  "That will be--next month--next year; in fine, postponing your visitindefinitely. Sit down--somewhere--well--clear those books into a corner,and let's hear your business. I am at your service for ten minutes--talkfast."

  He put his pen behind his ear, crossed his arms on the desk, and lookedexpectant.

  "I came here to ask whether you wished to employ anyone in your office."

  "And what the deuce do you suppose I want with an office lad like yourself?I tried that experiment to my perfect satisfaction a few months ago. Isthat all?"

  "That is all, sir."

  The boy rose, but the bitter look that crossed his face as he glanced atthe well-filled book-shelves arrested the lawyer's attention, and headded--

  "Why did you leave Watson, young man? It is a bad plan to change about inthis style."

  "I was expelled from my situation on a foul and most unjust accusation."

  "Let's hear the whole business; sit down."

  Without hesitation he narrated all the circumstances, once or twice pausingto still the tempest of passion that flashed from his eyes. While he spoke,Mr. Campbell's keen eyes searched him from head to foot, and at theconclusion he said--

  "I see fate has thumped none of your original obstinacy out of you. Aubrey,suppose I shut my eyes to the watch transaction, and take you into myoffice?"

  "If so, I shall do my duty faithfully. But you said you did not need anyonehere, and though I am anxious to find work, I do not expect or desire to betaken in from charity. I intend to earn my wages, sir, and from your ownaccount I should judge you had very little use for an assistant."

  "Humph! a bountiful share of pride along with prodigious obstinacy. ThoughI am a lawyer, I told you the truth; I have no earthly use for suchassistants as I have been plagued with for several years. In the main,office-boys are a nuisance, comparable only to the locusts of Egypt; Iwashed my hands of the whole tribe months since. But if I could only get anintelligent, ambitious, honourable, trustworthy young man, he would be ahelp to me. I had despaired of finding such, but, on the whole, I ratherlike you; believe you can suit me exactly if you will, and I am disposed togive you a trial. Sit down here and copy this paragraph; let me see whatsort of hieroglyphics I shall have to decipher if I make you my copyist."

  Russell silently complied, and after a careful examination it seemed thechirography was satisfactory.

  "Aubrey, you and I can work peaceably together; I value your candour, Ilike your resolution. Come to me on Monday, and in the matter of salary youshall find me liberal enough. I think you told me you had a cousin as wellas your mother to support; I shall not forget it. Now, good morning, andleave me unless you desire to accumulate work for yourself."