“WHATEVER STANDS IN MY PATH!”
“Did she really mean it, I wonder? Would it spoil her party for
her if I should not go?” mused Gerald Winchester, as the daintily
ruffled skirts of Allison Brewster disappeared around a corner and
his glance shifted to the lovely rosebud which he still held, “or
is it just her sweet, impulsive way of saying pleasant things to
make one feel comfortable and happy?”
As he concluded this soliloquy, he raised the bud to his lips and
bestowed a light caress upon it.
At the same instant a step behind him caused him to turn suddenly,
to find himself again confronted by the sneering face of Mr. John
Hubbard.
“Very pretty! very interesting, truly; but rather a dangerous
sentiment, and presumptuous, as well, for a boy to indulge in, with
only fifteen dollars a week,” the man sarcastically observed.
Then without giving Gerald time to reply, had he been so disposed,
he added sharply:
“Have you copied those papers relating to the Wynn estate?”
“Yes, I have just finished them,” the young man returned, as he
took a package from his desk and passed it to his companion, who
observed that his hand was trembling and that he had grown very
white about the mouth, while there was a gleam of fire in his eyes
which betrayed that he was not lacking in spirit, although he was
able to hold it under perfect control.
As John Hubbard took the papers he managed to brush to the floor
the rosebud which Gerald had laid upon the desk.
“Take care, please,” said the young man, and stooping eagerly to
recover his treasure.
But he was not quick enough, for the other ruthlessly set his foot
upon it, crushing it flat and destroying all its beauty.
For a minute the boy and the man stood looking straight into each
other’s eyes, their faces as colorless as the collars about their
necks.
“That is typical of what happens to everything that stands in my
way; so beware! young beggar, that you do not covet what is beyond
your reach,” said John Hubbard menacingly.
Gerald Winchester’s hands were clenched so fiercely that the nail
of every finger turned purple; but his bearing was that of a hero
who could face a cannon’s mouth and never flinch.
Presently he drew in a long, deep breath, his hands relaxed; then
he said, as quietly as if he were making the most commonplace
observation imaginable:
“Nothing is unattainable, Mr. Hubbard, to him who is determined to
win.”
“Aha! say you so? You speak with the impulse and inexperience of
youth; but, look there, and--be warned,” sneered his companion, as,
lifting his foot he made a gesture indicating the mutilated bud.
Then turning abruptly, he left the office, while Gerald, with a
ghastly face and trembling hands, stooped to recover the ruined
flower.
He tenderly gathered up every discolored leaf and petal, arranging
them neatly upon a sheet of blank paper, which he carefully folded
and placed within an envelope.
“It shall be my mascot,” he muttered, with a determined gleam in
his eyes, as he put it in an inside pocket of his vest, “and as
sure as I live, Mr. John Hubbard, you will find me no mean rival. I
will yet stand where I can ask for what I want and not be accused
of being a fortune-hunter, either.”
Mr. Brewster came in, a few minutes later, and Gerald’s thoughts
were turned into other channels, although throughout the day he was
never for a moment unconscious of that bruised and discolored bud
which lay so near his heart.
Two weeks slipped rapidly by, and the day set for Allison
Brewster’s lawn-party dawned clear and beautiful.
Gerald had, meantime, received by mail a formal card of invitation
with the words “Come early” delicately penciled in one corner, and
he had been looking eagerly forward to the occasion, although he
said nothing to any one of his intention to be present.
In his heart he knew that Mr. Brewster, in spite of his own
fondness for him, would not approve of the existence of any
tender relations between him and his peerless daughter, and he
greatly feared, should he intimate that he had been bidden to the
approaching festival, that some extra work would be forthcoming to
keep him away.
While he would not wilfully betray the confidence of his employer,
he, at the same time, believed that he had a perfect right to love
Allison, since, morally and intellectually, he was her equal, if
not her superior; while he felt sure, so sanguine is youth, that
he would eventually work his way up to a position no less enviable
than hers--both socially and financially.
“I will take no unfair advantage,” he said to himself, “but I will
make the most of my opportunities; and, if by and by, Allison
should respond to my affection, I will claim her right to act for
herself, and my right to abide by her choice, and”--with a flash of
fire in his dark eyes--“I am no fragile bud to be crushed by the
heel of any man’s boot.”
Having settled matters thus in his own mind, Gerald looked eagerly
forward to the fulfilment of his promise to Allison.
On Saturday morning, however, John Hubbard presented himself before
Mr. Brewster--Gerald being out on some errand--and stated that a
matter of importance in Jersey City needed prompt attention, and it
would be necessary to despatch some trustworthy person to deliver
certain valuable documents into the hands of the party whom they
most concerned.
“I would go myself,” said the wily expert and confidential lawyer,
“but I have to prepare for that case that is coming off on Monday,
and I cannot attend to both matters.”
“Very well, send whom you like to Jersey,” said the banker briefly.
“I think perhaps that Winchester might go--that is, if you can
spare him; he is reliable and as prompt as the clock,” said the
crafty schemer, who, for two weeks, had borne this thing in mind
for the very purpose of keeping Gerald from the lawn-party.
“Yes, I can spare him,” replied Mr. Brewster, “and you are
right--Gerald is as true as steel, and can be trusted with any
commission.”
John Hubbard’s white teeth gleamed for a moment beneath his
mustache in a sinister smile at this high tribute to the young man;
then remarking that he would make up the package, he disappeared
from the room, chuckling to himself as he went.
A half hour later he took the parcel to Gerald, who with difficulty
concealed his disappointment when he was told what was required of
him, for he knew that it would be utterly impossible for him to go
to Jersey City to perform his errand and return in season to keep
his promise to Allison; at least, it would be evening before he
could reach Yonkers, where Mr. Brewster’s country home was located,
and the party would be over by that time.
He felt very sure from the mocking gleam in his eye as he handed
the paper to him, that John Hubbard had cunningly contrived this
strategy for the express purpose of making him miss the pleasure he
was anticipating. But he must obey orders, and he departed upon his
mission without a word of protest.
He first made his way to a florist’s, however, to order a dainty
basket of forget-me-nots sent by express to Allison, inserting in
the box with them a card upon which he hastily wrote the following:
“New York, 11 A. M.--I am at this moment unexpectedly sent out
of town upon important business, and so cannot go to Y., as I
promised. Am very sorry, but my offering will prove that I am not
unmindful of the occasion. G. W.”
Having seen his tribute despatched, Gerald went on his way with
what grace he could muster, although a feeling of bitterness
against the marplot of his pleasure rankled sorely in his heart.
“What can it matter to him whether I am fond of Allison or not?” he
mused, as he boarded a car for the ferry. “He is a man twice her
age, and he cannot be so deluded as to think that she would ever
marry him. It would be monstrous,” and a mocking laugh broke from
him at the thought and the remembrance of what Allison had said
about “getting a chill,” whenever John Hubbard came near her.
Nevertheless, at that very moment John Hubbard was seated in the
private office of Adam Brewster, making a formal proposal for the
hand of the banker’s daughter.
“You know I am a man of few words,” he remarked, coming to the
point at once, as he took the chair his employer indicated, “and
so I am here to confess to you, Mr. Brewster, that I love your
daughter and to ask your permission to win her for my wife.”
The banker regarded the man in speechless astonishment as he
paused, after making the above startling declaration. It was a full
minute before he could recover himself sufficiently to reply.
“You want to marry _my_ daughter!” he at last burst forth, with
unconscious emphasis upon the pronoun. “Good Heaven! she is only a
child!”
“I know that she is very young, sir, and, of course, I do not
expect your sanction to a union under two or three years,” John
Hubbard returned, shooting a searching look at his companion
from his crafty eyes. “I simply want your consent to such an
arrangement, and your influence in my favor with Miss Allison----”
“But----” began Mr. Brewster, with white lips and an evident effort
at self-control.
“Believe me,” interposed his companion. “I appreciate your
affectionate desires for her, and realize that you aspire to an
assured position for her; but I believe I can realize even your
most extravagant wishes for her in that respect. You know something
of my circumstances, Mr. Brewster, but I have to tell you that
my interest in this bank, my estates in New Jersey and Virginia
are but a small part of my wealth. Let me ask you to examine this
memoranda, and then possibly you will realize that my offer is not
one to be despised,” said John Hubbard, as he took a small book
from his pocket and passed it to his companion.
Mr. Brewster took it mechanically and silently examined the pages
for several minutes, his face growing strangely grave and rigid as
he did so.
Finally he lifted his glance to the expert’s face.
“John, I had no idea you were so rich a man,” he observed.
“Will I do for a son-in-law?” queried the man flippantly, and with
a little smile of triumph.
“That is a difficult question to answer,” said Mr. Brewster,
flushing a deep crimson with the effort he made to restrain his
impulse to kick the man from his presence for his vulgarity and
presumption, for, clever as he had become as a business man, he was
possessed of no natural refinement, and the banker would far rather
have seen Allison immured in a convent than the wife of such a man,
useful as he was in certain ways.
“Why is it a difficult question?” sharply demanded the would-be
suitor.
“Well, first and foremost, Allison is far too young to have any
matrimonial ideas instilled into her mind; she has two years yet to
go to school----”
“I told you I would wait--I expected to wait,” interposed John
Hubbard impatiently, and with a fiery gleam in his eyes. “I have
already waited and toiled years, with this one hope in view--for
I have loved the child ever since she was a little girl--strange
as it may seem--and a few years more will not matter so very much,
provided I have your consent and influence to back me. Meantime,
I shall be growing richer,” he concluded, as if that were the one
inducement to be considered.
“But Allison’s wishes must be considered,” said the banker, a
trifle nervously. He could not bind himself to sell his darling,
and yet he knew that this man would make a dangerous foe; there
were certain reasons why he did not wish to excite his enmity. “At
least,” he added, “I cannot force her affections--she must choose
her own husband.”
“Ah! do you intend to allow her to do that? Suppose she should love
and choose a poor man--a common clerk, for instance, with a mere
pittance?” and the expert’s eyes gleamed maliciously.
“Humph! Ah! well--I don’t think I could quite agree to that,”
coldly responded the banker. “The man who marries Allison must at
least be able to match her fortune dollar for dollar.”
“I can very nearly do that now.”
“I see you can, John, and I own that you have been very clever--far
more clever than I gave you credit for being. I cannot quite
understand it. I am greatly surprised and--and, of course,
am--ahem!--honored by your proposal----”
“Then be kind enough to give me some definite answer,” bluntly
interposed Mr. Hubbard.
“Really, John, you must give me time--this has come upon me so
unexpectedly, I am wholly unprepared to pledge myself to anything,”
Mr. Brewster replied thoughtfully, and beginning to recover
something of his habitual dignity.
“Very well, take time; but, meantime, give me a chance. By the way,
I believe you have a lawn-party, or something of the kind, out at
Lakeview to-day, do you not?”
Again Adam Brewster flushed, and he longed to show his companion
the door and tell him never to come into his presence again; but,
as previously intimated, there were reasons why he dared not offend
him.
So, restraining his anger, he called a smile to his lips and
blandly responded:
“Yes, my daughter is going to entertain some of her friends this
afternoon; it will be rather a juvenile affair; but perhaps you
would enjoy seeing the young folks amuse themselves; if so, come
home with me and look on for a while.”
“Thank you, I shall be happy to do so,” promptly returned John
Hubbard, with a vicious gleam of his ghastly teeth.
And thus it happened that just as Allison Brewster came downstairs
to receive her first guests she was confronted by “the man who
always gave her a chill,” and who now drove all the brightness from
her face, and made her feel that her party was doubly spoiled by
his presence and Gerald’s absence.
“Why couldn’t papa have sent him, instead of Gerald, on that errand
rather than bring him here, where he isn’t wanted?” she said to
herself, with a feeling of resentment.
But she was a well-bred little lady, and, bowing courteously to
her self-invited guest, she thanked him politely for the bouquet
of magnificent roses with which he presented her, but which she
quietly handed to a servant, charging her to put them in water,
and--never thought of them again.
But upon her breast--nestling among the cascade of filmy lace that
trimmed her spotless dress of India lawn--there was a lovely
cluster of forget-me-nots, which, with a thrill of delight--in
spite of her disappointment at his enforced absence--she had culled
from Gerald’s dainty basket, which was now standing upon the
dressing-case in her room, to gladden no eyes but her own.
Almost unconsciously her hand fluttered caressingly among the
delicate blossoms, even while she stood talking with John Hubbard;
then, all at once, glancing out upon the lawn, she gave a little
cry of joyous surprise and sprang forward to meet--Gerald himself!