THE LETTERS.
The next day’s mail brought four foreign letters to Rothsay,—one for
Everard, one for Beatrice, one for Josephine, and one for Lawyer
Russell. They were all mailed in Vienna, within two days of each other,
and the one addressed to Everard was as follows:
“VIENNA, April —, ——.
“MR. EVERARD FORREST:—_Dear Sir_—I hardly know why I write to you
first, unless it is because I know that what I have to say will hurt
you most; you, who I think loved my darling Rossie. You have perhaps
received the _American Register_ which I ordered to be sent you from
the office in Paris when I forwarded the notice, and so you know why I
write to you now. I have written to you from time to time of Rossie’s
failing health, but never told you as bad as it was, for I did not
wish to alarm you unnecessarily, and kept hoping that change of scene
might bring the improvement I so greatly desired. But nothing helped
her, though she never complained of anything but fatigue. ‘So tired,’
was all she ever said of herself, and she seemed like some sweet
flower fading gradually.
“At Haelder-Strauchsen, a little town among the Austrian hills, I
found she was not able to go on as I wished to do, to Vienna, and so
we staid there, where she had the best of care. Neither of us thought
the end so near until the last day, when she failed rapidly, and
talked of you and Miss Belknap, and told me to tell you how much she
loved you both, and that you were not to be sorry she was dead, for
she was only going home, and Heaven was as near Austria as it was to
America. She was so beautiful in her coffin, with a smile of peace
upon her face, as if she were resting at last. The people literally
covered her with flowers, and strangers’ tears fell fast over her
coffin as we laid her in the grave.
“I shall come to America soon, and will tell you all you wish to know
with regard to her sickness and death, and the many things she said of
you, and your kindness to her. I have a lock of her hair for you and
Miss Belknap, which I will bring with me.
“And now good-by, and may Heaven pity us both and make us better men
for having had our Rossie even for so short a time.
“Truly, JOHN MATTHEWSON.”
His letter to Beatrice was in substance much the same as the one to
Everard. There were a few more details of Rossie’s illness, and a few
more words which she said at the last of her friends in America.
Josephine’s letter no one saw, and if they had few in Rothsay could have
made it out, for it was written in German, which Josephine could readily
understand. One or two sentences, however, deserve a place in our story,
and must accordingly be given. After indulging in a good deal of
sentimentalism with regard to Rossie’s death, he added:
“But as every cloud has its silver lining, so has this dark pall which
has overshadowed me so heavily. I can now offer you wealth as well as
love, and this I dare say you will not object to. So, if you are not
already at Indianapolis, go there at once, and perhaps I will join you
there after I have paid my respects to Mr. Forrest.”
To Lawyer Russell he wrote as follows:
“VIENNA, April —, ——.
“MR. THOMAS RUSSEL:—_Dear Sir_—I have communicated to Mr. Forrest the
sad news of my sister’s death, and need not enter into the particulars
with you, who will hear them from him. I write to you as the family
lawyer, on another subject of which I cannot now speak to Mr. Forrest,
lest he should misconstrue my motive, and think me anxious and
premature in what I am about to say. As a lawyer of large experience
you have undoubtedly already thought of the fortune willed to Rossie
by Judge Forrest, and of which she died lawfully possessed, and you
have probably thought what disposition would now be made of it. You
know, of course, that Rossie always protested it was not hers
rightfully, and that she should give it back to Everard as soon as she
reached her majority. I, however, who am her lawful heir, do not see
things as she did, and am not disposed to throw away the good the gods
provide. Still I _am_ disposed to be generous and make over to Everard
at once a portion of the property. As you must know more about the
estate than any one except Everard himself, I wish you would be
hunting up the matter, and getting into shape some statement or
estimate of the value of the property, so there may be no unnecessary
delay when I come to Rothsay, as I shall do at once. I have in New
York a friend who is a shrewd, honest lawyer, and I may bring him with
me, not because I think there will be any trouble or opposition to my
claim, but just to expedite matters and get them settled as soon as
possible.
“Hoping that you fully understand and appreciate my motives, and that
I shall find in you a friend and adviser, I am, yours truly,
“JOHN MATTHEWSON.”
The old lawyer read this twice; then, with his hands under his
coat-tails and his glasses on the top of his head, walked up and down
his room, muttering to himself:
“Just what I told Ned,—the man is a scoundrel, and he will, with all his
fine talk of generosity, bring a New York lawyer here to see to it, as
if he wouldn’t have fair play and get every cent his due, though I’ll be
blamed if I wouldn’t take advantage of any quirk or loop-hole to crawl
out of, if there was one, which there isn’t. As Rossie’s brother he is
her heir, of course, and the whole thing goes to him, for I’ll bet my
head Ned will never take a dollar. Poor boy, as if he hadn’t trouble
enough with the loss of the girl, without this new thing to bother.”
And if ever a man stood in need of sympathy it was Everard, who seemed
completely crushed, and who looked so white and changed that even his
best friends forbore speaking to him of Rossie, though they talked much
of her among themselves, and many tears were shed for the young girl who
had been so great a favorite, and whose grave was so far away. That
Everard loved her with more than a brother’s love was conceded now by
all, and no one thought to blame him for it, but pitied him in his
sorrow, which he did not try to conceal. When Lawyer Russell took the
doctor’s letter to him, and asked what he thought of it, he evinced no
surprise or dissatisfaction.
“That’s all right,” he said, “he is her heir, and he shall have every
dollar,—remember, every dollar. I would not take it from her, I will not
have it from him; and you must do the business for me. I give it into
your hands. I cannot confer with him; I should forget myself sometime,
and fly at his throat. I will give you all the papers pertaining to the
estate. I have kept the matter perfectly straight, so there will be no
trouble in finding just how much he is worth. Now mind, don’t you ever
dare to think I will have a penny of the money, for I will not, so help
me Heaven! till Rossie rises from her grave to give it to me. Then you
may talk to me, and not till then.”
This was Everard’s decision, which both Mr. Russell and Beatrice
approved, though both mourned bitterly over the fate which gave Judge
Forrest’s hoarded stores into the hands of one as unprincipled as Dr.
Matthewson, whose arrival was anxiously looked for.