JUST FIFTY POUNDS.
Mrs. Stacy, thus reminded of her own needs, began to moan softly among
her pillows, and called out to the walls and windows that she wished, if
that pain was going to keep on so, that she never had been born. If it
wasn't that she had the very best husband that ever drew breath, she
would just give up, and want to die; but for his sake she would try and
worry through.
Stacy was far out of reach both of the moans and this conjugal tribute
to his goodness, for he had hastened to join that bank messenger who,
somehow, took the form of his old sweetheart, and shaded him now and
then with a coquettish bend of her parasol.
"Found your cane," observed Maggie, glancing at the ponderous
gold-headed affair in the hand of her old lover.
"Oh, yes; no trouble; had just stood it up in a corner of the parlor."
Maggie laughed a little under the cover of her parasol, but kept a
discreet silence about the locked door until she was snugly seated in
the park, with Stacy crowded close to her side.
"Ah," he said, heaving a sigh that lifted the white vest like a
snow-bank, "this is something like happiness! If you could only know
what your haughtiness has driven me to--but it is no use trying to make
you understand! Look at me, Miss Maggie! _Am_ I the same man that adored
you so? Don't answer. I am, I am, for--Harriet, forgive me, I love you
yet--I love you yet!"
"But you left me, Mr. Stacy."
"Rather say the furies driv me. I wasn't myself. It was another fellow
that woman married: the true man staid with you, and here he is, just
the same as ever, if you would only believe it--but you won't, you
won't!"
"How can I believe it, Mr. Stacy, after abandoning me so?"
"But not till you driv me to it--not till you had slapped my face with
that precious little hand."
"Mr. Stacy, I--I'm glad you care for me a little, because I want a great
favor of you."
Stacy sat upright in the iron seat, and pulled down his white vest with
a couple of jerks.
"A favor, did you say?"
"Yes, a great favor."
"And what may its nature be, Miss Maggie?"
"Mr. Stacy, you are a rich man."
Stacy was troubled. To deny his wealth was a terrible sacrifice of
vanity--to admit it might be exposing himself to depredation.
"Well, yes," he said at last, "I am rich. No one in New York would doubt
that; but over here one has such trouble in getting funds, you
understand. It was only this morning Mrs. Stacy wanted money for a
little shopping, as she called it; but I couldn't give it to her--upon
my soul I couldn't."
"Then, it would be of no use to ask you for a loan of twenty-five
pounds, as I thought of doing."
"A loan of twenty-five pounds, my dear Maggie! Five hundred pounds would
not be too much, if I were only in New York; but here in London, where
Alderman Stacy is not known, I could not raise even the miserable sum
you want--I could not, indeed."
Maggie's eyes began to flash, for she understood the meanness of this
man, and despised it; but she thought of that anxious group in Olympia's
parlor, and resolved to have the money.
"Still, considering everything, I think you will try to oblige me."
"Don't ask me. It wounds my manhood to refuse; but let us talk of
something else--those dear old times--"
"No," said Margaret, unlocking one of her bracelets, and closing it with
a vicious snap. "If you cannot let me have it, I will go to your wife."
"My wife? You go to my wife! Why, she hates you like pison!"
"And I am not very fond of her; but I want this money, and she will have
to give it me."
Stacy pulled down his vest again, and broke into a mellow laugh.
"Well, I _should_ like to see you try it on! What would you say to her,
Maggie?"
"I would say: Mrs. Matthew Stacy, you and I were fellow-servants
together in New York, where the lady was murdered; and for some days,
you and I, and the person you have married, were left in charge of all
the valuable property that house had in it. One of those nights I went
away, leaving everything in its place. When I came back again the
wardrobes had been plundered, the bureaus broken open, the wine-cellar
pillaged."
Matthew Stacy had been growing crimson while Maggie spoke. He put up a
hand to his throat, as if something were choking him, and tore open a
button or two of his vest; then he gasped out:
"Miss Maggie, Miss Maggie, do you mean to insinuate that I or my wife
Harriet--"
"I don't mean to insinuate anything, because what I say I know. You and
your wife took these things. I knew it at the time; I can prove it now."
"Prove it fourteen years after?"
"Some things do not wear out--jewelry and India shawls, for instance. I
was at the Opera not long since. My sister, who used to come and visit
me so often, is a little in that line, and I used to show her all the
shawls and splendid dresses our mistress used to have. Well, that night
at the Opera we both saw your wife, sitting by you, with the best shawl
the madam had, on her own shoulders. We knew it at a glimpse. There
isn't another just like it to be found in England or America. That
shawl, Matthew Stacy, is worth thousands of dollars, and your wife,
Harriet Long, the cook, was wearing it."
"Margaret! Margaret Casey, you had better take care."
"I have taken care. This woman had a gold-mounted opera-glass in her
hand that we both can swear to. Besides that, she had a little watch at
her side, set thick with diamonds. That watch she took to a jeweller to
be mended. It is in his hands yet. When I leave this seat, it will be my
first business to make sure that she never gets the watch again."
"But it is fourteen years--time enough for anything to be outlawed."
"I have asked about that. Crimes are not like debts--they cannot be
outlawed, Mr. Stacy."
"And you could find it in your heart to hunt down an old sweetheart like
that, providing all you say is true? I wouldn't a believed it of you,
Maggie."
"It seems to me that sweetheart just now refused to lend me twenty-five
pounds."
"Refused! No, he did not refuse."
Matthew caught his breath, and changed his wheedling tone all at once. A
new idea had struck him.
"But, supposing what you say is true, there isn't any one in England to
prosecute--"
"Yes, there is the lady's agent. He sat by you when we first saw the
shawl. Mr. Hepworth Closs."
Matthew Stacy sprang to his feet, perfectly aghast.
"And you have told him?"
"Not yet; but I mean to!"
"You mean to--"
"Yes, I do!"
"That is it--that is it--the self-same cretur that left the print of her
fingers on my cheek, and of herself on my heart. It is her who wishes to
cast me to the earth, and have me stamped on by the law. Oh, Maggie
Casey, Maggie Casey, I wouldn't have believed it of you!"
"And I wouldn't have believed you capable of refusing me fifty pounds!"
"Fifty pounds! It was twenty-five, Miss Margaret."
"Yes; but I've changed my mind. One does not want to be refused a
miserable sum like that. I've doubled it."
"But I did not refuse; I only wanted to put the subject off till we had
talked of old times--I didn't refuse you by any manner of means. You
hadn't told me anything about yourself--how you came here, and what you
were doing, or anything that an old lover's heart was panting to know."
"Well, I will tell you now. I have been, ever since that time, in the
family of a nobleman, as a sort of half servant, half companion to his
daughter."
"You don't say so! Then what on earth can you want of twenty-five
pounds?"
"Fifty."
"Well, fifty it is, then. Between us, that was all I hesitated about;
twenty-five pounds was such a pitiful sum for you to ask of me. You
didn't understand this noble feeling, and almost threatened me; but not
quite, and I'm glad of it, for Matthew Stacy is the last man on earth to
give up to a threat. I hope you will believe that, Miss Margaret."
"Fifty pounds!" said Margaret, lifting a tuft of grass by the roots with
the point of her parasol.
"Did I dispute its being fifty? Certainly not. Now just say how you will
take it--in gold or Bank of England notes?"
"Notes will do."
"I'm glad you said that, because I happen to have the notes about me,"
answered the alderman, drawing out a plethoric note-case, and counting
the money with terrible reluctance. "Here we are; just the sum. Now tell
me, were you really in earnest about its being fifty?"
"Just fifty," answered Margaret, counting the money on her lap; "just
fifty."
Matthew heaved a grievous sigh, and stood up.
"Now I suppose that little affair is settled forever?" he said, working
both hands about the head of his cane, while he eyed the girl askance.
"I said fifty pounds, and fifty pounds it is," answered Margaret. "Now
let us be going."
"But you mean to act fair?"
"I mean to act fair, and return your money."
"Oh, I don't mean that, I don't want that! It was the other affair; you
could not do anything so cruel."
Margaret turned short round and faced the stout man, who was trembling,
abjectly, from head to foot.
"Mr. Stacy, I have kept silent fifteen years and rather over. If I have
not spoken before, you may be certain I never shall. I wanted this money
very much, indeed, and shall repay it with less thankfulness because of
the mean way in which I forced it from you. Your wife may wear her shawl
and watch to the end, for any harm I mean her. Good morning, Mr. Stacy."
Stacy stood just as she left him, thrusting his cane into the turf.
"And she wouldn't have done it after all. What a confounded fool I have
made of myself! Two hundred and fifty dollars, and gold up to one-forty
at home, which makes another clean hundred. What a mercy it is she
didn't ask a thousand, though! She took the starch out of me, through
and through. I should have handed over anything she asked."
As Stacy was walking from the park, now and then giving a punch to the
turf with his cane, in discontented abstraction, he nearly ran against a
man who had just passed the gate, and, looking up angrily, saw Hepworth
Closs. The poor craven turned white as he saw that face; but Hepworth
was in haste, and took no heed of his agitation.
"You are just the man I most wanted," he said.
"What--what--me? Is it me you wanted?" stammered Stacy, smitten with
abject terror.
"Yes; you are an American, and will understand the value of American
bonds."
"American bonds! Surely, Mr. Closs, you will at least give me a chance
of bail? I tell you it is all false! That creature isn't to be believed
under oath."
"I have no idea what you mean," said Closs, a good deal puzzled; "but
you evidently do not understand me. I am about to leave England, and
have a monied trust to settle before I go. There is a reason why it is
inexpedient for me to act in person. I wish to pay the money, but give
no explanation. Will you act as my agent in this?"
"Is--is it--that estate you are just settling up?" asked Stacy, below
his breath, for he felt as if the earth were about to swallow him. "Is
it that?"
"I can give you no explanation. This money came into my hands years ago.
I invested it carefully--doubled it over and over again; but now I wish
to give up my trust. I have it here in American bonds, fifty thousand
dollars."
"Fifty thousand!"
"Just that. I wish you to take this to the young lady, to whom it
rightfully belongs, and place it in her own hands, with the simple
statement that it is hers. Will you oblige me in this?"
"First tell me who the young lady is."
"Lady Clara, the daughter of Lord Hope, of Oakhurst."
"The daughter of a lord! My dear sir, I shall be too happy!"
"But there is a condition. I do not wish the lady to guess where this
money comes from. You must be understood as the agent, who has invested
and increased it from a small property left in New York by a relative.
This will work you no harm, but, on the contrary, win for you favor and
gratitude from as noble a lady as ever lived."
"Will it get an invitation to Oakhurst for myself and Mrs. Stacy? That
is a thing I should like to mention incidentally, to the Board of
Aldermen when they give me a public reception in the Governor's Room.
Will it bring about something of that kind?"
"That I cannot tell. The young lady is not now at Oakhurst, but with her
grandmother, at Houghton Castle. It is there you will find her."
"Houghton Castle! Why, that's the place I saw mentioned in the Court
Journal. There is to be tremendous doings at Houghton Castle before
long; a grand entertainment, to which all the grandees, far and near,
are invited. What if this fifty thousand dollars should get me and Mrs.
S. an invite? That would be a crusher."
"It is possible," said Closs, controlling the fierce beating of his
heart. "Come to my hotel in the morning, early. I am anxious to get this
trust off my mind."
Stacy promised, and the two men parted, the one elated, the other
doubtful, harassed, and painfully disappointed; but the very next day
after Matthew Stacy left London for Houghton, Hepworth Closs received a
letter, which put all ideas of a voyage to America out of his mind.