ARTHUR SETTLES HIMSELF.
They did try it on, but not until after the November election, at which
Frank was defeated by a large majority, for Peterkin worked against him
and brought all the "heft of his powerful disapprobation" to bear upon
him. Although Frank had had no part in turning him from the door that
morning after the party, he had not tried to prevent it by a word, and
this the low, brutal man resented, and declared his intention to defeat
Frank if it cost him half his fortune to do so. And it did cost him at
least two thousand dollars, for Frank Tracy was popular with both
parties; many of the Democrats voted for him, but those who could be
bought on both sides, went against him, even to the Widow Shipley's four
sons; and when all was over, Frank found himself defeated by just as
many votes as old Peterkin had paid for, not only in Shannondale, but in
the adjoining towns, where his money carried "heft," as he expressed it.
It was a terrible disappointment to Frank and his wife, who had looked
forward to a winter in Washington, where they intended to take a house
and enjoy all society had to offer them in the National Metropolis.
Particularly were they anxious for the change now that Arthur had come
home, for it was not altogether pleasant to be ruled where they had so
long been rulers, and to see the house turned upside down without the
right to protest.
"I can't stand it, and I won't," Frank said to his wife, in the first
flush of his bitter disappointment. "Ever since he came home he has
raised Cain, generally, with his carpenters, and masons, and painters,
and stewing about water-pipes, and sewer-gas, and smells. He's mad as a
March hare, and if I can't get rid of him by going to Washington, I'll
do it in some other way. You know he is crazy, and so do I, and I'll
swear to it on a stack of Bibles as high as the house."
And Frank did swear to it, before two or three physicians and Mr. St.
Claire, who, at his solicitation, came to Tracy Park, and were closeted
with him for an hour or more, while he related his grievances, asserting
finally that he considered his brother dangerous, and did not think his
family safe with him, citing as proof, that he had on one occasion
threatened to kill his son Tom for accusing Harold Hastings of theft.
How the matter would have terminated is doubtful, if Arthur himself had
not appeared upon the scene, calm, dignified, and courtly in his manner,
which insensibly won upon his hearers, as, in a few well-chosen and
eloquent words, he proceeded to prove that though he might be peculiar
in some respects, he was not mad, and that a man might repair his own
house, and cut off his own water pipes, and take up his sewer, and
detect a bad smell, and still not be a subject for a lunatic asylum.
"And," he continued, addressing his brother, "it ill becomes you to take
this course against me--you, who have enriched yourself at my expense,
while I have held my peace. Suppose I require you to give an account of
all the money which you have considered necessary for your support and
salary? Would the world consider you strictly honorable? But I have no
wish to harm you. I have money enough, and cannot forget that you are my
brother. But molest me, and I shall molest you. If I go to the asylum,
you will leave Tracy Park. If I am allowed to stay here in peace, you
can do so, too. Good-morning, gentlemen!" and he bowed himself from the
room, leaving Frank covered with confusion and shame as he felt that he
was beaten.
The physicians did not think it a case in which they were warranted to
interfere. Neither could conscientiously sign a certificate which should
declare Arthur a lunatic, and their advice to Frank was that he should
suffer his brother to have his own way in his own house, and when he
felt that he could not bear with his idiosyncracies he could go
elsewhere. But it was this going elsewhere which Frank did not fancy;
and, after a consultation with his wife, he decided to let matters take
their course for a time at least.
Arthur's allusion to the sums of money his brother had appropriated to
his own use had warned Frank that he was not quite so indifferent to or
ignorant of his business affairs as he had seemed; and this, of itself,
served to keep him quiet and patient during the confusion which ensued,
as walls were torn down, and doors and windows cut, while the house was
filled with workmen, and the sound of the hammer and saw was heard from
morning till night.
It was the middle of October when Arthur commenced his repairs, but so
many men did he employ, and so rapidly was the work pushed on, that the
first of January found everything finished and Arthur installed in his
suite of rooms, which a prince might have envied, so richly and
tastefully were they fitted up. Beautiful pictures and rich tapestry
covered the walls in the first room, where the floor was inlaid with
colored woods, and the center was covered with a costly Oriental rug,
which Arthur had bought at a fabulous price in Paris. But the gem of the
suite was the library, where the statuary stood in the niches, and
where, from the large bow-window at the south, a young girl's face
looked upon the scene with an expression of shy surprise and half regret
in the blue eyes, as if their owner wondered how she came there, and was
always thinking of the fields and forests of far-away Germany. For it
was decidedly a German face of the higher type, and such as is seldom
found among the lower or even middle classes. And yet you instinctively
felt that it belonged to the latter, notwithstanding the richness of the
dress, from the pearl-embroidered cap set jauntily on the reddish golden
hair to the velvet bodice and the satin peasant waist. The hands, small
and dimpled like those of a child, were clasped around a prayer-book and
a bunch of wild flowers which had evidently just been gathered. It was a
marvelously beautiful face, pure and sweet as that of a Madonna, and the
workmen involuntarily bowed their heads before it, wondering who she
was, or where, if living, she was now, and what relation she bore to the
strange man who often stood before her whispering to himself:
"Poor little Gretchen! Will you never come?"
If he were expecting her now he no longer asked that the carriage be
sent to meet her. That had been one of the proofs of his insanity as
alleged by his brother, and Arthur was sane enough to avoid a repetition
of that offense, but he often went himself to the station, when the New
York trains were due, as it was from the west rather than the east that
he was now looking for her.
Frank, who watched him nervously, with all his senses sharpened, guessed
what had caused the change and grew more nervous and morbid on the
subject of Gretchen than ever. At first his brother, who was greatly
averse to going out, had asked him to post his letters; business letters
they seemed to be, for they were addressed to business firms in New
York, London and Paris, with all of which Arthur had relations. But one
morning when Frank went as usual to his brother's room asking if there
was any mail to be taken to the office, Arthur, who was just finishing a
letter, replied:
"No, thank you, I will post this myself. I have been writing to
Gretchen."
"Yes, to Gretchen?" Frank said, quickly, as he advanced nearer to the
writing-desk, hoping to see the address on the envelope.
But Arthur must have suspected his motive, for he at once turned over
the envelope and kept his hand upon it, while Frank said to him:
"Is she in London now?"
"No; she was never in London," was the curt reply, and then, turning
suddenly, Arthur faced his brother and said: "Why are you so curious
about Gretchen? It is enough for you to know that she is the sweetest,
truest little girl that ever lived. When she comes I shall tell you
everything, but not before. You have tried to prove me crazy: have said
I was full of cranks; perhaps I am, and Gretchen is one of them, but it
does not harm you, so leave me in peace, if you wish for peace
yourself."
There was a menacing look in Arthur's eyes which Frank did not like, and
he resolved to say no more to him of Gretchen, whose arrival he again
began to look for and dread. But she did not come, or any tidings of
her, and Christmas came and went, and the lovely bracelets which Arthur
brought from the trunk he said was hers, and into which no one had ever
looked but himself, remained unclaimed, as did the costly inlaid
work-box and the cutglass bottles with the golden stoppers, while Arthur
seemed to be settling into a state of great depression, caring nothing
for the outside world, but spending all his time in the rooms he had
prepared for himself and one who never came.
As far as possible he continued his foreign habits, having his coffee
and rolls at eight in the morning, his breakfast, as he called it, at
half-past twelve, and his dinner at half-past six. All these meals were
served in his room as elaborately and with as much ceremony as if lords
and ladies sat at the table instead of one lone man, who required the
utmost attention and care in the waiting. The finest of linen, and
china, and glass, and silver adorned his table, with a profusion of
flowers--roses mostly, if he could get them, for Gretchen, he said, was
fond of these, and, as she might surprise him at any moment, he wished
to be ready for her and show that he was expecting her.
Opposite him, at the end of the table, was always an empty plate with
its surroundings, and the curiously carved chair, which had seen the
lion at Lucerne. But no one ever sat in it. No one ever used the
decorated plate, or the glass mug at its side, with its twisted handle
and the letter "G." on the silver cover. Just what this mug was for,
none of the household knew, until Grace Atherton, who had traveled in
Europe, and to whom Mrs. Tracy showed it one day when Arthur was out,
said:
"Why, it is a beer-mug, such as is used in Germany, though more
particularly among the Bavarian Alps and in the Tyrol. This Gretchen is
probably a tippler, with a red nose and double chin. I wish to goodness
she would come and satisfy our curiosity."
But Gretchen did not come, and as the days went by Arthur became more
and more depressed and remained altogether in his room, seeing no one
and holding no intercourse with the outside world. He had returned no
calls, and had been but once to see Mrs. Crawford. That interview had
been a long and sad one, and when they talked of Amy, whose grave Arthur
had visited on his way to the cottage, both had cried together, and
Gretchen seemed for the time forgotten. They talked of Amy's husband,
and then Arthur spoke of Amy's son, who was not present, and whom he
seemed to have forgotten, for when Mrs. Crawford said to him, "You saw
him on the night of your return home," he looked at her in a perplexed
kind of way, as if trying to remember something which had gone almost
entirely from his mind. It was this utter forgetfulness of people and
events which was a marked feature of his insanity, if insane he were,
and he knew it and struggled against it; and when Mrs. Crawford told him
he had seen Harold he tried to recall him, and could not until the boy
came in, flushed and excited from a race with Dick St. Claire through
the crisp November wind which had brought a bright color to his cheek
and a sparkle to his eye. Then Arthur remembered everything, and
something of his old prejudice came back to him, and his manner was a
little constrained as he talked to the boy, whose only fault was that
Harold Hastings had been his father.
He did not stay long after Harold came in, but said good-morning to Mrs.
Crawford and walked slowly away, going again to Amy's grave, and taking
from it a few leaves of the ivy which was growing around the monument.
And this was all the intercourse he held with Mrs. Crawford, except to
send her at Christmas a hundred dollars, which he said was for the boy
Harold, to whom he had done an injustice.
After this he seldom went out, but settled down into the life of a
recluse, talking occasionally to himself, with some unseen person, who
must have spoken in a foreign tongue or tongues, for sometimes it was
French, sometimes Italian, and oftener German in which he addressed his
fancied guest, and neither Frank nor Dolly could understand a word of
the strange jargon. On the whole, however, he was very quiet and
undemonstrative, and if he were still expecting Gretchen, he gave no
sign of it, and Frank was beginning to breathe freely, and to look upon
his presence in the house as not altogether unbearable, when an event
occurred which excited all Shannondale, and for a time made Frank almost
as crazy as his brother.