AN APPALLING SECRET.
Allison regarded her companion in silent astonishment for a full
minute after his astounding communication.
“I do not understand you,” she said, at last, and she looked as if
she had not in the least comprehended his statement.
“I have told you that you are not the daughter of Adam Brewster,”
John Hubbard stolidly reasserted.
An incredulous expression swept over the girl’s beautiful face.
“That is an assertion too absurd to be heeded,” she said, and
turning again, as if to leave the room.
The man placed himself in her path, thus intercepting her.
“I have told you only the truth,” he said, with cold
deliberateness. “There is not one drop of Adam Brewster’s blood
in your veins; you are of no kin to either him or the late Mrs.
Brewster--so called.”
“Who--am--I--then?” came slowly from Allison’s white lips, for at
last the arrow had struck home, although she did not appear to have
heeded the last two ambiguous words which the man had uttered.
“I do not know; no one knows,” he answered, with cruel
indifference.
“I do not believe it--I will not believe it! You will have to prove
it!” the girl cried, tremulously.
“I can prove it.”
“Then I demand proof, here and now--this instant!” with an
imperative stamp of her foot.
John Hubbard left the room without a word. In less than three
minutes he returned, carrying in his hands one of the boxes which
had been found in Gerald’s possession on that fatal Sunday morning
of the previous winter.
He set it upon a table, placed a chair before it, and motioned for
Allison to be seated.
“In that box you will find the proof of what I have told you,” he
said; then added, as if impelled by a twinge of remorse: “I would
have saved you this, Allison, had you been reasonable.”
“Reasonableness! Do you call it unreasonable for a girl to
refuse to be coerced into an uncongenial marriage?” she cried,
passionately, her face flaming scarlet, although she was trembling
from head to foot with mingled suspense and apprehension.
“Where is the key to this?” she demanded, sinking into the chair
before the table and without giving the man a chance to reply.
He took a ring of keys from his pocket, detached one from it, and
passed it to her without speaking.
Allison could not have been whiter if she had been carved from
marble as she inserted the tiny bit of brass in the lock, turned
it, and threw open the cover of the mysterious box.
A low, inarticulate cry broke from her as she caught sight of the
infant’s clothing within, and instantly surmised the truth; yet,
even in her amazement and horror over the terrible revelation, she
noted how exquisitely fine was the material from which the garments
had been made--how rich the various trimmings--how pure the tiny
diamond that gleamed in the small golden key that was pinned upon
the yoke of the little dress.
She removed the articles one by one, laying them upon the table,
until she emptied the box of all its contents save that brief note,
written by the unknown mother, and Mrs. Brewster’s confession to
her husband.
Allison unfolded the letter first, and read it through to the end
without making a sign of the suffering that nearly cleft her heart
in twain, as she realized how, in an instant of time, as it were,
she had been cut adrift from every human tie that had bound her to
her supposed parents.
Then she perused the other, studying every line and dot of the few
brief words which had doubtless been penned by the hand of her own
mother.
“Well,” she said, at last, in a hollow voice, “is this the extent
of your revelations upon this subject?”
“Is it not sufficient to prove that you are not Adam Brewster’s
child?” the man questioned.
“Yes,” said Allison, chocking back a sob; “there can be no doubt
that I was only an adopted child----”
“You were not even adopted,” John Hubbard interposed. “There was
no one living who knew the secret when Adam Brewster discovered it,
and he was far too shrewd a man to betray it by taking out papers
of adoption at that late day, and thus run the risk of having the
world learn the truth. Why he should have spoiled everything by
retaining these proofs is more than I can understand. If he had
burned them immediately after reading Mrs. Brewster’s confession no
one would ever have known that you were not his child.”
“How came you to have this box?” Allison questioned, after a
thoughtful silence.
“Why, having been Mr. Brewster’s attorney and your guardian, it
became my duty to examine everything connected with his affairs,
and this----”
“Aha!” exclaimed Allison, with a start. “I believe this was one
of the two boxes which my father sent Gerald to get that Sunday
when you found him in the bank vault. I understand, now, why he
did this,” she went on, breathlessly. “He knew that he could trust
Gerald implicitly, never to speak of his errand to any one--never
to mention the existence of anything which he wished to conceal,
and he intended, without doubt, to destroy the contents of this
box, and so blot out of existence every vestige of this secret.”
“Well, yes, I should say that you have analyzed the situation very
accurately,” her companion observed, as she paused, although he had
given an impatient shrug at her tribute to Gerald.
“Then if you knew--if you realized this, you have been false to
your trust,” Allison indignantly continued. “You have not carried
out my father’s wishes. Why could you not have respected them? Why
have you revealed this secret to me?”
“I have my reasons,” the man sullenly returned.
“Well,” said the girl, tremulously, “if you have done this
simply to be revenged upon me because I rejected your proposal
of marriage, you have at least succeeded in giving me a terrible
shock; you have, in a sense, robbed me of my birthright; but you
can never rob me of the knowledge that Mr. and Mrs. Brewster both
loved and cherished me with all the tenderness which an own father
and mother could experience for their child. He certainly proved
this by every act of his life, and by making me the sole heir to
his wealth. The one thing I cannot understand is his making you my
guardian and investing you with so much power over me. I rebelled
against it at the outset; I am more than ever unreconciled to it
to-day, and I will submit to it no longer. I know that I have the
right to appeal for a change of guardian, and I intend to avail
myself of it,” she concluded, with considerable warmth.
“Please allow me to remind you of what I have already stated--that
I am about to resign the honor which Mr. Brewster conferred upon
me,” John Hubbard returned, in a tone, and with a look so sinister
that Allison felt her flesh creep.
“I am very glad,” she replied, coldly. “It will at least save me
considerable trouble and worry.”
“Thank you,” he stiffly rejoined; “but possibly you may not feel
quite so elated when I tell you that the revelation which I have
just made was but to prepare you for another of a far more serious
nature.”
“More trouble! Oh, I can bear no more!” moaned Allison to herself,
although she made no visible sign, except to grasp the arms of her
chair convulsively and try to brace herself for what was to come.
She began to feel spent from the excitement which she had already
undergone, and it seemed as if she could not endure another blow
like that which had just fallen upon her.
“Yes, I am afraid there is more trouble for you,” said John
Hubbard, with a smile of cruel triumph over her suffering.
Now that he was convinced that he could never win her, he was
prepared to ruthlessly crush her, with all possible despatch, and
his plans had long been matured to this end.
“But,” he returned, after a slight pause, “I want you to understand
that you have brought judgment upon your own head. I would have
been glad to shield you from every pang. You need never have
learned this secret, or have been shorn of a single luxury. As
it is, however, it becomes my duty to tell you that you are no
longer the heiress you have supposed yourself to be. The rich Miss
Brewster, the belle, the beauty, will be dethroned--hurled from her
high position in the world into poverty and obscurity by one blow
from the ax of fate.”
The seeming absurdity of such a statement acted like an electric
shock to Allison.
“What do you mean?” she demanded, whirling haughtily around upon
the speaker. “I may not be Adam Brewster’s own child--that is a
fact which I am forced to admit; but that it deprives me of the
fortune which he left me, by will, or of the position in society to
which he reared me, I do not admit. Your authority as my guardian
is not powerful enough for that, and you know, as well as I, that
my father spent his life accumulating his money with the hope and
the intention that I should inherit it.”
“Your conclusions are well drawn, Miss Brewster, and I should not
presume, upon my own authority, to controvert them,” John Hubbard
returned, with an air of mock humility and a deprecatory glance;
“but, unfortunately, a power more potent than any which I possess
is at work against your interests.”
“I do not understand you,” said Allison, coldly, but with a sinking
heart, for the man’s manner was very ominous.
“Well, then, to bring the matter before you in a nutshell, a woman
calling herself Mrs. Adam Brewster has recently presented herself,
claiming to be the legal wife of your late father, so called, and
certain property rights. In fact, she proposes to dispute Mr.
Brewster’s will and your right of inheritance.”
“It is false! I do not believe it!” cried Allison, starting wildly
to her feet. “Who is this woman? Where is she? I pronounce her an
impostor!”
“Pray do not allow yourself to become excited, Miss Brewster,” said
her companion, with formal politeness. “I foresaw, of course, that
this would be a great trial to you, and I hoped that the matter
might be compromised quietly--to save scandal and your feelings,
you understand. It could have been so arranged if--if you had
consented to become my wife. You would then have retained your
proper position in life, and the loss of a part of your fortune
need never have been known. I would have paid Mrs. Brewster what
she demands, and the whole affair could have been hushed up, since
she cares more for money than for the notoriety of becoming known
as the late banker’s wife.”
“I do not believe one word of it! She is an impostor!” Allison
reiterated. “My father never made a second marriage. He loved my
mother far too well ever to put another in her place.”
“Ah, pardon me, Miss Brewster, but I fear that I have not even yet
made myself quite plain,” returned the villain, his white teeth
gleaming viciously under his mustache. “Mrs. Brewster does not
claim that she is the second wife; she asserts that she is the
first--the only wife----”
“What!” almost shrieked Allison, as she sank back, pale and
breathless, upon her chair. “What is this that you dare tell me?
Oh, you do not know what you are saying! You are making my lovely
precious mother no wife at all!”
“Exactly; that is just what the aspirant for the Brewster fortune
claims,” began the wily expert.
“It is not true! There is not a word of truth in the dreadful
story!” interposed the unhappy girl, in heart-broken tones, a
shudder of repugnance shaking her from head to foot.
“No doubt it seems hard, and there are a good many hard things in
the world. I have found it so in my own experience,” her companion
replied, with significant emphasis; “but, unfortunately for you,
the lady brings proofs which appear incontestible.”
“I will not listen to them! I will have them refuted! I will engage
the best counsel in New York, and leave no stone unturned to defend
the reputation of my dear father and mother,” Allison wildly
declared.
Her companion looked somewhat disconcerted in view of her threat;
but, after a moment, leaned toward her and said, in low, stern,
rapid tones:
“All vehement denial and denunciation can do your cause no good. I
have seen this woman who claims to be Mrs. Brewster. I have seen
and read letters and documents which prove her statement that she
was married to Adam Brewster some three years prior to his marriage
to the lady whom you called mother. She says they only lived
together a very short time; a violent quarrel and the discovery
that they were not congenial resulted in a separation, she going
to a distant city in the West to reside, and where, out of motives
of revenge, she caused a notice of her death to be inserted in a
newspaper and sent to her husband. A few years afterward she saw
an announcement of Mr. Brewster’s marriage to a Miss Porter, of
Massachusetts.”
“Horrible! But if all this is true, why did she not make her claim
upon him at that time? Why wait all these years before claiming her
rights?” Allison demanded, as Mr. Hubbard paused.
“That is easily explained,” he returned. “Mr. Brewster took his
bride immediately abroad. She did not know when he returned, and
could learn nothing regarding him until after the death of the
second Mrs. Brewster. She says that later she did seek him, and
demanded recognition as his wife. Of course, it was a terrible blow
to him to learn how she had deceived him, but he would have nothing
to say to her; he repudiated her utterly. The only thing he would
agree to was to pay her a certain amount annually, as hush money,
for she threatened to expose the facts of the case unless he would
make some arrangement with her.”
“I do not believe it,” Allison again stoutly affirmed. “It was not
like my father to pay ‘hush money’ to any one. He was always open
and aboveboard in all his dealings; besides, he never appeared to
have any trouble or burden upon his mind, as he must have had if he
had stood in constant fear of a public scandal.”
“All the same, Miss Brewster, your father was married--it was a
secret marriage, too--three years previous to his union with Miss
Porter. It occurred during the last year of his college course in
New Haven. Mrs. Brewster can produce prima facie evidence of the
fact in the form of old letters and a certificate, and I have also
seen the record of the marriage license in the city archives.”
“Why, then, did not this woman come forward at the time of papa’s
death, and contest his will? Why has she waited all these months?”
questioned Allison, with white, quivering lips.
“Simply because I have not allowed her to do so; because I have
been striving to protect your interests--trying to temporize with
her,” said Mr. Hubbard, with a would-be effective sigh. “She would
have been content with half, and I could then have saved the other
half for you, if you had been reasonable and listened to my suit.
I could thus have protected you from every ill; indeed, I never
would have wounded you by allowing you to suspect anything of what
has been revealed to you to-day. You perceive what you have brought
upon yourself by defying me.”
Allison lifted a death-white face to the speaker, but there was a
gleam in her eyes that made him quail before her.
“Mr. John Hubbard, I would rather be a beggar in the streets--I
would rather be a street sweeper, earning a penny at a time,
than be the wife of such a man as you,” she said with deliberate
scorn. “You are cold, cruel, unprincipled, or you would never have
conducted yourself as you have to-day; you would never have sought
to be revenged upon one who was helplessly consigned to your power
because, not loving you, she refused to marry you.”
“Very well. You have sealed your own doom. Henceforth I shall act
in the interests of Mr. Brewster’s legal wife and daughter.”