COUSIN HERBERT
Arrived at the hotel in Boston, an inquiry for Herbert Loring revealed
that he was still there, but indisposed and not seeing visitors.
In the suite Diana engaged, the two friends discussed ways and means,
and it was decided that Diana should write a note to the invalid and
make herself known.
_My dear Mr. Loring_ (she wrote),
I might perhaps call you Cousin Herbert, for I believe my father,
Charles Wilbur, claims relationship, and, if you grant me
permission, I certainly shall do so. I believe you and my father
had time to see something of one another before steel swallowed him
up and you became absorbed in railroads. My mother is at our
cottage in Newport, and is wondering whether you could be induced
to visit us when Father returns from a cruise he is taking. I am
here in the hotel for a short time, and would like very much to
call on you if there is some half-hour when you would feel like
seeing a relative, even though you could not grant a similar
privilege to an outsider. I shall be so glad if you can allow me to
make your acquaintance. It would be a satisfaction to my parents to
hear from you by word of mouth. My mother saw by the papers that
you were back in this country and she wrote me of it. I have been
on one of the islands in Casco Bay where one gets very near to
Nature's heart: the best thing that can happen to a tired
schoolgirl.
Kindly let me hear from you, and I shall be grateful if you will
see me. After all, though we are strangers, blood is thicker than
water!
Yours cordially
DIANA WILBUR
"This is most extraordinary, upon my word, it is most extraordinary,"
was Herbert Loring's comment when he had read this communication. His
words might have been addressed to thin air or to Marlitt, his man; and
Marlitt knew by experience that it was well not to appropriate them
until he had received some further hint. So he stood at attention and
looked with interest at the view from an opposite window.
His employer was a haggard man, with a white mustache and gray hair. He
was immaculately groomed and was seated in a reclining chair, his feet
supported on the footrest. He wore a rich dressing-gown of gray silk.
One noticed that his left arm was never raised, but with his right hand
he now stroked his mustache. There were pouches under the eyes he lifted
to his valet.
"Here is a schoolgirl in the hotel who wants to come to see me; says
she's my cousin. I'm a nice figure to receive a schoolgirl."
Marlitt raised his eyebrows. "You are certainly in shape to receive
anybody, sir. But this young lady? May she be an impostor, sir?"
"No. I think not." Marlitt perceived that the note was an agreeable
incident. "She says she is the daughter of Wilbur, the Philadelphia
steel man. It's odd that they should not have forgotten me."
"Begging your pardon, sir, I think if you were not so determined to deny
yourself to friends, you would find that no one who had once known you
would have forgotten."
The sick man glanced back at the note in his lap. It escaped him on the
slippery silk and he made an involuntary effort with the useless arm to
recover it. He frowned, and Marlitt, stooping quickly, picked up the
sheet and restored it. The invalid read the letter once again.
"Send word to this young lady that I will see her at three-thirty
to-day," he said at last.
With much rejoicing, Diana, when she had received this word, arrayed
herself for the call. She wore a thin gray gown with a rose at the
girdle, and Mrs. Lowell, regarding her with admiration, thought no one
could be better equipped externally to win the fastidious masculine
heart.
Herbert Loring thought so, too, when at the appointed hour she entered
his room, and he received a swift impression of her fine quality.
"Welcome, my little cousin," he said as he met her eyes and the serene
and charming smile irradiating her youthful beauty. "I am a useless
hulk; can't get out of this chair without help. So you will pardon me."
She put her hand in the one he offered, and Marlitt placed a chair
beside him in such fashion that she faced him.
"That makes it the more gracious of you to receive me," she replied.
"I should never have known what I missed, had I refused," he said
gallantly. "My friend Wilbur has a very beautiful daughter."
Marlitt disappeared into the next room, and Diana blushed.
"Even in spite of sunburn?" she said.
"I was really touched, Cousin Diana, that your parents should remember
me sufficiently for you to take the trouble to come to see me. It is a
long time since anything has pleased me so much. I have been such a
rover that I am a stranger in my own land."
Diana had not expected to feel guilty of false pretences, but this
speech accused her even while it lent her increased courage, since his
was a heart that could be touched.
"I hope you will visit us," she said, "after I return to Newport."
"Are you on your way there now?"
"No, not quite yet. It is difficult to tear one's self away from Casco
Bay after one once falls under the spell."
Loring nodded. "I know the environment. Very piney and fresh and all
that. Cold water though, very cold."
"Yes, but we all take dips in it."
"Youth!" said the sick man, shaking his head. "Youth!"
"If one does not swim, I know it is quite too cold," said Diana. "I am
glad you are familiar with that country, for then you can sympathize
with my enthusiasm. I long to have a place there of my own and, perhaps
with such congruity of taste, you and I together can persuade my parents
that it would not be too erratic in me to buy a part of that green hill
and be there a little while every year."
The invalid nodded. "I'll say Amen to anything you indicate," he
returned readily.
How devoutly Diana hoped this promise might be kept!
"I have another reason for being glad to meet a man relative just now,"
she went on. "There are some people at the Inn where I am staying who
present such a strange problem. When injustice is obviously being done,
one longs to help."
Her companion nodded. "That is natural, but usually futile," he said.
"It is a very good rule to 'keep off the grass.'"
"Yes, but this affair makes me very unhappy, Cousin Herbert."
"A shame," he returned, and he would like to have patted her pretty
hand, but she was on his left side. "Too bad there is always some
serpent in paradise. Don't be too tender-hearted, my dear. Don't be too
tender-hearted. It doesn't pay. Of course, where-ever you go people will
try to lay you under tribute. You must learn to wear an armor, a full
suit of chain armor under your dainty costumes."
"This is not a question of money," said Diana, her heart beating faster
and, for the first time, she quaked at the full realization of her
errand. "Would you let me tell you about it, Cousin Herbert?"
"Why, of course, my child, if it is any satisfaction to you to confide
in such a useless old cripple as I have become."
"You are far from that," returned the girl, steadying the voice which
threatened to waver. "Your opinion on the subject will be very valuable
to me."
The sick man lifted his heavy eyebrows and smoothed his mustache. "Then
proceed, by all means," he said. "One thing I have in tragic abundance
is time; and I am flattered."
"There is a man at our Inn," began Diana, her fingers tightly
intertwined in her lap, "who has a young boy in his power. The lad is
his nephew. He shows every sign of years of neglect. The uncle
continually betrays himself, and scarcely tries to hide the fact that he
is looking forward to incarcerating the boy in some institution for the
deranged."
"Simply to get rid of him?"
"No; there is money back in the family somewhere, and we--I have come to
the conviction that this man believes the boy will fall heir to it, and
that, if he is safely out of the way, the uncle as guardian will get
control of this money."
"What sort of mentality does the boy seem to have?"
"He is a sensitive, fine-grained lad with just the sort of nature which
persistent brutality will blight and paralyze. He has been so neglected
that he has little physical resistance and one can see him being
gradually crushed with as little hope of escape as the fly in the
spider's web."
"And you take it greatly to heart, eh?" said the invalid, regarding the
girl's flushed face and appealing eyes.
"Wouldn't any one?" she asked.
"A confounded nuisance to have such a circumstance mar your vacation."
"Oh, think of the boy's side of it, Cousin Herbert!"
"You want my opinion? I think the law could take a hand there."
"Yes; but the law is so slow!" Diana swallowed. "So near a relative as
an uncle, own brother to the boy's father, can put up a hypocritical
fight and establish a very strong claim."
Herbert Loring shook his head. "My dear child, in your position, if you
begin on this Quixotic business, there will be no end to it, believe me.
You can't right all the wrongs in the world, and you will have the pack
in full cry after you if it is known that you have let down the bars.
You can state this case to a lawyer, and put it in his hands with the
understanding that you will pay the bills, but your identity must be
kept secret. Then let them fight it out. You can't do any more than
that. A pity I didn't know you were here this morning. My lawyer was
with me." The speaker's tired eyes smiled and the corners of his
mustache lifted slightly. "I have celebrated my return by destroying my
will and the new business was to have been finished this morning, but I
was uncertain about some matters that the lawyer is looking up to-day.
He will come to-morrow morning to draw up the new will, and before he
goes I will send for you and you shall tell him about your boy and his
ogre of an uncle."
Diana's heart was beating fast now. She summoned all her courage. "What
is so exciting to me, Cousin Herbert," she began,--and he wondered to
hear the wavering in her voice,--"is that lately I have learned that
this lad is related to some one rich and powerful who could rescue him
at once."
A puzzled frown came in Loring's forehead.
"Any one I know?" he asked.
"Surely, or I should not trouble you at a time when you are not feeling
strong. Cousin Herbert, this neglected boy belongs to you. He is your
grandson." Diana unconsciously stretched her clasped hands toward him.
A strange white change came over her listener's face and the expression
that awoke in the eyes that met hers was terrible to her.
"This is the explanation of your desire to make my acquaintance," he
said in a changed voice.
She was so frightened that she seemed to hear her own heartbeats. "The
boy's name is Gayne. Herbert Loring Gayne," she went on, desperately.
"Miss Wilbur, you have ventured in where angels would fear to tread,"
said the sick man sternly, "but you awake no memory. That room where you
intrude is bare and empty. You--"
"He is talented," pleaded Diana. "Very talented as an artist. Any family
might be proud to own him and bring him out of a cellar into the
sunshine. Think of the interest in life it would give you. Think it
over, Cousin Herbert. Just be willing to see him once--"
While she was talking, her companion touched the bell on the table
beside him and the words died on her lips as the valet came into the
room.
"I am tired, Marlitt," said the invalid huskily. "Miss Wilbur is ready
to go." His head fell back against a down pillow. "Pardon my not
attending you to the door," he added, ignoring the girl's wet-eyed
confusion. She gathered herself together and rose.
"Thank you for allowing me to come in," she said, inclining her head;
then she turned toward the door which Marlitt held open.
She continued to hold her head high until she reached her own apartment,
where Mrs. Lowell was waiting. The latter started to her feet as she
viewed her friend's entrance and noted her excited color and trembling
lips.
Diana succeeded in uttering one word, "Hopeless," then she succumbed
into Mrs. Lowell's arms and fell into wild weeping on her shoulder.
Led to a couch, she lay upon it and continued weeping while Mrs. Lowell
sat beside her and held her hand comfortingly.
"We did right to come, however," she said, when, after a time, the girl
was quiet, "and you fulfilled your duty bravely in going to him. You
cannot tell what fruit your visit may bring forth. Don't try to tell me
about it now. He has suffered a terrible wound to his pride and heart,
and even after many years it could smart when touched. We mustn't be
discouraged. Our mission is a righteous one and so God is on our side,
and if we don't accomplish the child's deliverance in this way, we shall
in some other way. I am going to read to you one of the most inspired
and inspiring poems ever written," and, taking up her Bible, Mrs. Lowell
turned its pages and read aloud the ninety-first psalm.
At seven o'clock they had dinner served in their room, and Diana
recounted her experience with the invalid before they retired for the
night. Mrs. Lowell again talked to her calmly and comfortingly and the
girl's mortified pride and disappointed heart finally quieted and she
slept.
The next morning the two friends discussed plans over the breakfast
which was served in their room. When later the waiter arrived to carry
away the tray, he was so full of news that he was obliged to speak.
"Big excitement in the house," he said. "Gentleman dead in his bed. Big
man, too. Used to be president of big railroad. Wouldn't wonder if the
papers had extrys out in a few minutes."
Diana caught Mrs. Lowell's hand and the latter spoke to the man: "What
name?"
"Why it's Herbert Loring. I guess that'll make some stir."
It certainly made some stir in Diana's heart. It was throbbing. When the
waiter had left the room, she lifted horrified eyes to her friend.
"Do you think I killed him?" she murmured.
"No, no, dear child."
"I noticed he was paralyzed on one side," said the girl, "but the valet
will tell them that I excited him so that he dismissed me. Shall I pay
our bill and we go away at once?"
"Just as you like, dear."
"I couldn't do that," said Diana suddenly. "I cannot be a coward."
"Then let us stay right here," said Mrs. Lowell quietly. "You may be
questioned, and it will be better to be found easily. I suppose there
will have to be an inquest or some such formality."
"Oh, it is dreadful!" exclaimed the girl. "If my mother knew this, she
would never allow me to escape from under her wing again. She has a
horror of anything even unconventional."
"Just be calm and strong in the right, Diana, and if any one comes to
question you, try not to lose your self-control. I know you have a great
deal. I shall stay beside you."
"Yes, I beg of you not to leave me. Poor Mr. Loring. Poor Cousin
Herbert. How much sorrow he must have had. So proud a man to become
helpless."
Only five minutes later two cards were presented at the door. One was
that of a doctor, the other of a lawyer. Mrs. Lowell sent word that the
men were to be admitted.
Diana had on the peach-colored negligee and, when the two callers were
ushered into the living-room of her suite, they found a pale, large-eyed
girl standing with their cards in her hand.