MISS DORNWOOD’S STORY.
As soon as I saw and recognized Waddie and Miss Dornwood, they turned
out of the road with the evident intention of avoiding me.
“Waddie!” I called to him.
Hearing my voice, they returned to the road, assured that I was not the
brutal guardian whom the young lady had so much reason to shun.
“Haven’t you seen Tom?” I asked.
“No.”
“He is looking for you.”
“We heard some one behind us, and turned aside till he had passed,”
added Waddie. “What does he want?”
“The drummer has concluded not to go to Middleport to-night.”
“And can you have the boat?” inquired Miss Dornwood, eagerly.
“The boat is certainly available,” I replied. “But do you really wish
to make a trip of thirty miles on the lake in the night?”
“I am afraid of nothing but the tyranny of my guardian,” she responded,
promptly.
“Where is Tom?” inquired Waddie. “We will lose no time.”
“I will find him. If he passed you, he must be near the hotel.”
They walked towards the boat, and I returned to the hotel, where I
found Tom, and we soon joined Waddie on board of the Belle. We were
all ready to start; but I confess I was very much troubled about the
circumstances of the voyage. The mainsail was flapping in the fresh
breeze; but I was somewhat afraid that Waddie was getting himself, and
perhaps me, into a scrape.
“Are you going, Waddie?” I asked, in introducing what I wished to say.
“Certainly I am.”
“I hope you will go with me. I should not feel safe without you,” added
Miss Dornwood.
“Won’t you go too, Wolf?” asked Waddie.
“I should be glad to have you,” continued the young lady.
“I am not perfectly clear in regard to this matter,” I suggested.
“Pray do not stay here any longer,” interposed Miss Dornwood. “If my
guardian should discover my absence, I’m afraid he would come down here
to look for me. Please to go out upon the lake, and I will tell you all
my story. Then, if you will not assist me, we can return.”
“Shove off, Tom,” I replied.
The skipper ran up the jib, and the Belle, gathering headway, stood out
into the lake.
“I think you are very cautious, Captain Penniman,” said Miss Dornwood.
“I am sure my friend here does not wish to do anything wrong,” I added.
“I will bear all the blame,” said Waddie, warmly. “I think I can find
friends for Miss Dornwood without going so far as Ruoara.”
“Where?” I asked, curiously.
“At my father’s house.”
“I shall not be obliged to trespass upon the kindness of your father’s
family, Mr. Wimpleton,” added Miss Dornwood. “My friends in Ruoara will
not hesitate to receive me into their house, though they know all the
circumstances of my situation.”
“Who are they?” I asked.
“Mr. Pinkerton and his family. Do you know them?”
“Very well indeed. Ben Pinkerton’s father,” added Waddie.
The Pinkertons were of the highest social standing in Ruoara, and I was
almost willing to believe that there could be no harm in conveying the
young lady to such friends as they were.
“Emily Pinkerton was my schoolmate at the academy, and before my father
died, our two families became quite intimate,” continued Miss Dornwood.
“Emily was at my guardian’s house last spring with her father and
mother, and they know all about the circumstances.”
“Do they think it is proper for you to leave your guardian?”
“Mr. Pinkerton told me himself to come to his house whenever I could
not endure my guardian any longer. I should have gone there before if
I could have got away.”
“Are your father and mother both dead?” I inquired.
“Both of them. I am going to tell you the whole history of our family.
I am seventeen now, and Mr. Pinkerton says I am old enough to think for
myself. I believe I am.”
“I should say you were,” I replied.
“My mother was married twice,” Miss Dornwood began. “Her first
husband’s name was Richard Overton, and they had one son, Charles
Overton, who is now my guardian. His father died when he was only four
years old. Two years after his death, my mother was married again, to
Edward Dornwood, my father. He was a wealthy man; but he was deformed,
and in very poor health. I wish I could tell you how much I loved him,
and how devoted he was to me. Even the great hump upon his back was not
a deformity in my eyes. But, feeble as he was, my mother was the first
to pass away, and died when I was only eight. I hardly remember her. I
have no doubt she loved me as a mother should love a child; but I know
she used to scold me very severely, and I recollect this more clearly
than anything else.
“My father never spoke an unkind word to me. When I did wrong, when I
fretted, he looked so sad,--sometimes actually shedding tears,--that
it became a positive terror to me to displease him. When he became so
feeble that he could not leave the house, I spent all my time out of
school with him. His eyes failed so that he could not see well, and,
for hours together, I used to read books to him which had not the least
interest to me. I can truly say, that I was never so happy as when with
him.”
“Where was this Charles Overton all this time?” I asked, as she paused
to wipe away her tears.
“He lived near us, and professed a very deep interest in my poor dear
father, and in me too, for that matter. His father had died a poor
man, and he was a clerk in a store. He used to come in every day, and
express so much solicitude for my father and his affairs, that we were
all deceived in him. We thought he was a good man, but really all he
cared for was my father’s money. By degrees he won his confidence;
and, though he had never treated me as a sister when we were children
together, I was very grateful to him for the care he bestowed upon his
step-father.
“When I was about fourteen years old, my father began to fail in health
very rapidly, and it was evident to himself, as it was to the rest of
us, that he could not last many months longer. With a calmness which
seemed to be awful to me, he spoke of leaving the earth to join the
angels in heaven. I wept bitterly at the thought of parting with him;
but he suffered so terribly that I finally became reconciled to his
going, for I realized that my loss, even in a worldly sense, would be
his gain. Then he told me about his property, and asked me if I should
like to have Charles for my guardian.
“I was fifteen years old, but I knew little or nothing about business.
I was entirely satisfied to have Charles an my guardian, though I
hardly comprehended what his relations with me in that capacity were
to be. The next day came the lawyers, and my father made some changes
in his will, which had been written years before. In a word, he named
Charles Overton as my guardian, and made him the executor of his will.
I am sure he charged him to be very kind to me, and to take good care
of my fortune. But my father lived nearly a year after he had settled
up his worldly affairs, during which Charles was as devoted to him and
me as the most loving son and brother could be. He came to our house to
live, in order that he might better attend to the wants of the invalid,
and resigned his situation in the store so that he could devote all his
time to this duty.
“I will not try to tell you the sad story of my father’s death. He
passed away, and ceased to suffer. We laid him in the silent tomb, and
life was not to me what it had been before. I had lost my greatest
earthly comfort, and, young as I was, I looked forward with joy and
hope to the time when I should join my father in heaven. But this
sadness wore away, though I have not ceased, and never shall cease,
to think of my father as an angel, even when he was upon the earth.
Charles Overton took charge of everything, and came into actual
possession of the house in which I had lived all my life. It was more
than six months after my father’s death when he spoke to me about
business. Then he showed me my father’s will, and read it to me. He
described the legal forms through which he had passed, but I could not
understand them.
“My father gave him twenty thousand dollars in his will, and a fixed
salary for doing the business of his estate until I was of age. After
giving many legacies to charitable objects, the residue of his fortune
was given to me. I was told that I was the heiress of two hundred
thousand dollars. But there was one very singular clause in the will,
to the effect that, if I married without the consent of Charles
Overton, I was to receive fifty thousand dollars, and the residue of
the fortune was to go to my half brother. I was astonished and shocked
at this part of the will. I asked Charles to let me see it. Certainly
it was all written down as he had read it; but it seemed incredible to
me that my doting father had intended to subject me to such a condition.
“About this time Charles Overton began to exercise his authority over
me. He resorted to every expedient in his power to annoy me, and make
me miserable. He succeeded, too, in making me as unhappy as I could
wish any human being to be, if he were my worst enemy. I could not
divine his object; but, between him and his wife, I had hardly a day
of peace from one year’s end to the other. I was not permitted to go
into company, nor to visit those who had been my friends and companions
during the latter years of my father’s life. I was not allowed even to
take a walk without some one to attend me, and see that I made no new
acquaintances, nor met any old ones. I may say with truth that I have
been a slave now for nearly two years.
“I remonstrated and protested against this treatment; but Charles
explained that he was only carrying out the wishes of my father that he
should watch over me with the utmost care. It was only when I believed
I comprehended his motives, that I ventured actually to resist him. I
refused to obey him, and went out when I could find an opportunity. I
was fully persuaded that he intended to break me down and wear me out,
so that he could get my fortune.”
“But why is he so particular that you should make no acquaintances?”
asked Waddie. “If you should be married without his consent, he will
get most of your fortune.”
“Mr. Pinkerton told me that clause would not stand the test of the law.
But I do not think of being married either with or without my half
brother’s consent,” added Miss Dornwood, with much embarrassment.
She paused a few moments, and looked over the side of the boat into the
water. I realized that it was a great trial to her to feel obliged to
tell this long and painful narrative.
“I have not told you the worst yet,” she continued. “I was satisfied
that Charles Overton wanted my money; that he was plotting day and
night to obtain it. Doubtless what he termed my obstinacy worried him.
He is a man of no principle whatever, and I am sure he is equal to any
crime he has the courage to perpetrate. About three weeks ago, while we
were at Cape May, we met Lord Palsgrave. While we were bathing in the
surf one day, a wave lifted me off my feet, and carried me out of my
depth. I could swim, and was not at all alarmed; but his lordship swam
out to me, and, in spite of my protest, insisted upon saving me from a
watery grave. I thanked him for his good intentions, though I did not
need his services; and from that time to this he has clung to me. I
must tell the whole truth: he proposed to me, and I promptly rejected
him, for I did not like him. My intimacy with him assured me there was
not much difference between a lord and a boor. My guardian did like
him, if I did not, and declared that his lordship was the only man who
could marry me with his consent. I was persecuted on this subject till
I was disgusted with it.”
And then the poor girl burst into tears again.