THIRTY YEARS OLD.
Four years have passed away. Pine Hill is still glorious in its beauty;
more glorious in its men and women, for the true life has been rich in
true progress. The twin mansions are full of joys. Life has blossomed
and borne fruit.
Eugene Hungerford’s birthday is at hand, when he will be thirty years
old. The time for the disposal of John Hungerford’s three millions has
been nearly reached. Dick Birch, and Julia, and Mary have insisted that
the occasion shall be celebrated. The lord of the manor is not partial
to celebrations, but he has consented to a gathering of his most
intimate friends on the occasion, and a letter from the three eminent
trustees in Baltimore has just been received, announcing that they
will be present in a body, attended and supported by the distinguished
lawyer who invented all the repetitions in John Hungerford’s will.
Eugene does not look so old as he did when he returned from Europe,
though five years have been added to the calendar. He has been happy
since that time; he has had enough to occupy his mind. Manly exercise
and abundant fresh air have kept him healthy, and he certainly looks
better than ever before. Mary has hardly grown older, though there is
a certain maturity in her looks which does not lessen her beauty, or
render her less interesting than before. She is a shade stouter, but
she is as elegant in form, and as graceful in movement, as before.
She is the mother of two children.
Mrs. Hungerford senior is still a hale, healthy old lady, happy in
seeing her children and grandchildren happy. She walks over to the
“other house,” as she terms it, every day, unless the weather is very
unfavorable, and even oftener if Master Eugene Hungerford Birch, now
happily just entering his third year, has the “snuffles,” or any
indications of croup, measles, whooping cough, scarlatina, or chicken
pox.
Dick Birch, perhaps somewhat modified by matrimony, is a happy man.
He is hardly appreciated by the people; if he had been, he would have
gone to Congress before this time; but Mrs. Birch declares that he
is the best man in the world, though he is just a little too fond of
having his own way--a grievous fault, said to be almost universal
among husbands. By no means let it be supposed that Mr. and Mrs. Birch
quarrelled, though without any positive information on the subject, we
will venture to say that Julia occasionally went into a huff, and that
Dick had to pacify her. As each had a will and a way, it is more than
possible that concessions were necessary on both sides; but as both
were reasonable, and there was true love, concession was easy, and even
pleasant. There was only a little spice to give variety to life, and no
happier couple lived in the whole world. They still continued to be on
the same side of the bridge.
Master Eugene Hungerford Birch is a remarkable child; it is absolutely
necessary that this fact should be stated, otherwise it would not be
known. Besides being able to sleep and to eat bread and milk, which he
did very naturally, if not gracefully, he could perform as many tricks
as the clown in a circus, and he was duly exhibited to the crowds of
admiring guests who came to Pine Hill. He could fall off the sofa,
tumble down stairs, and roll out of bed with remarkable facility; and
these feats were usually succeeded by healthy exercise of the lungs,
causing them to grow strong and vigorous.
Master Johnnie Hungerford was even a more remarkable young gentleman
than his cousin. He was four years old; and though he had, as yet,
made no speeches in town meeting, or in the hall of the Poppleton
Library, he could talk faster, and say more in a given time, than any
other child of his age in the county. His extraordinary talent in this
direction already pointed him out as a future member of Congress, to
which honorable position no one doubted that he would ultimately arrive.
Johnnie was not surpassed in anything by his remarkable cousin. He
could fall off the sofa, tumble down stairs, and roll out of bed with
no less facility than Master Eugene H. Birch; and, in the preceding
summer, he had contrived to outdo him by tumbling into the duck pond,
to the great astonishment of the ducks, and the mortal terror of his
mother. This was certainly a very enterprising feat, and Johnnie was a
hero for seven days afterwards. Besides his strictly gymnastic ability,
John had other talents and accomplishments of the highest order. He
could break crockery and glass ware beautifully; he could purloin his
mother’s scissors and hack a cambric handkerchief to pieces in the most
artistic manner; he could root out a rare geranium in the conservatory
in the twinkling of the eye.
Parkinson was quite sure that Johnnie would become an author, he was
so fond of books and of writing. He could use up a twenty-dollar copy
of Spenser in four minutes by the watch, accomplishing this remarkable
feat by climbing up to the desk, and with pen and ink scratching and
scrawling strange diagrams on the dainty pages. Johnnie was quite
enterprising, too, in the department of mechanics. The barometer,
which hung in the hall, was a great mystery to him; and one day he
climbed up to it on a chair, to make an examination. In the course of
his investigations, he managed, by the exercise of great skill, to
destroy the instrument in a very brief space of time. But Johnnie’s
greatest achievement in this line was picking his father’s gold watch
to pieces, in order to find the “tick” in it, thus exhibiting a thirst
for hidden knowledge worthy of encouragement.
Dick Birch and lady once called Johnnie the “three million boy,”
because this sum depended upon him; but neither Eugene nor Mary liked
the idea. The “little darling,” with all his rare accomplishments, was
the choicest gift of God to them, worth more than three millions, and
was loved and prized for his own sake alone. Though his “nose was out
of joint” now, and had been for a year, by the appearance of Miss Mary
Hungerford, the young gentleman hardly suffered by the addition of a
sister to share his caresses. Miss Hungerford, being but a year old,
made no long speeches, though wonderful things were expected of her.
She was, however, a remarkably forward child, and could tumble out of a
chair, if they would only let her, almost as well as Johnnie himself.
She had an astonishing talent for eating and sleeping, though, not
being an epicure, she did not insist upon variety in her diet.
If Johnnie sneezed, all Pine Hill was thrown into commotion, and
his father had seriously entertained the idea of having a physician
resident at the mansion, that no delay might be experienced when the
little fellow barked hoarsely, or exhibited any symptom of a dangerous
disease. But, though the parents were inclined to be perniciously
indulgent, they were sensible people in the main. Pastry, cakes, and
confects were wholly banished from the tables, except on extraordinary
occasions; beef and mutton, bread and milk, were the staple articles of
diet, for parents as well as children, for the latter would not cry for
what they did not see. Johnnie lived mainly on fresh air, and on the
approach of his father’s thirtieth birthday, he was perfectly healthy,
and as fat and rosy as the child of a poor laborer.
Poppleton had been progressing during these four years. Eugene had been
busy all the time. The library was in excellent working condition;
the lyceum and the recreations were successful. The chapel had been
diffusing the light of the gospel; Miss Thompson still labored as
a missionary among the poor, and John Porter preached practical
Christianity.
Dr. Thomas Lynch still drove a fast horse through the streets, and was
hardly less popular than when he first came into the town; hardly less,
for he had actually begun to lose ground. He had purchased popularity,
and he was not always willing to pay the price. It cost too much to
keep up the farce of pandering to old women’s whims. As he became more
successful, he bowed less low to the magnates of Poppleton, took less
pains to conciliate men and women who could do nothing but sound his
praise. But the doctor was still great, though it was a fact that he
had begun to decline.
Eugene Hungerford’s birthday came. A gentleman arrived at Poppleton by
the afternoon train. He went directly to the office of Dr. Lynch, who
received him with a patronizing smile, and conducted him to the room in
the rear.
“You have come at exactly the right time,” said the doctor, rubbing his
hands, as if in anticipation of some delightful event.
“I came when you told me,” replied the stranger, somewhat roughly,
for the doctor’s greeting was rather too patronizing to be entirely
satisfactory.
“I have been afraid, twenty times to-day, that I should not see you.”
“But you knew I arrived from Italy a month ago.”
“I did; but I feared you might take a drop too much, or that some
accident might prevent you.”
“You need not insult me.”
“I had no intention of insulting you.”
“What do you mean by a drop too much, then?”
“Nothing, nothing! You know you used to imbibe a little too freely.”
“But I told you in one of my letters that I had drank nothing stronger
than red wine for five years.”
“So much the better.”
“When will this business be finished?” demanded the stranger, with no
little impatience.
“This evening.”
“I am disgusted with it.”
“You have no right to be disgusted with it. I have paid you three
thousand dollars a year for your services, which has supported you like
a prince in Italy.”
“I have no fault to find with the pay; that is liberal, but it would
not buy me into such a mean transaction a second time.”
“You must not flinch now, at the last moment.”
“I shall not flinch; I have sold myself to the devil, and I am willing
to pay the price.”
“But you must do your part handsomely. You must ride the high horse.
You must refuse all compromise. You must claim your own without the
shadow of relenting.”
“This was not nominated in the bond. I will do my part with as little
offence as possible.”
“You must be firm and resolute,” persisted the doctor.
“I will be firm and resolute enough to accomplish the purpose--no more.”
“I have been waiting five years for this night. I have longed for this
hour as they that suffer wait for the morning. My time has come. I
have been insulted, outraged in my feelings, cast out like an unclean
beast----”
“As you are!” interposed the stranger.
“What!”
“I know you, if they don’t.”
“This is hardly proper in you.”
“I will pay the bond, but I have the privilege of despising you.”
“Come, come; you are riding the high horse with me instead of my
enemies.”
“They are your enemies, not mine.”
“I have paid you to help me crush them,” said the doctor, bitterly.
“And I will help you crush them, because I have been paid for doing
so; but I am none the less a villain, though I am a respectable man
compared with you.”
“Have a care, sir.”
“You need not threaten me. I doubt if I can help kicking you after I
have done what you require of me.”
“Be reasonable, my dear fellow. We cannot afford to quarrel.”
“I can; you cannot.”
“Neither of us can.”
“I have had all the money you were to pay me.”
“I will give you a thousand dollars more if you follow my directions
implicitly.”
“What are they?” asked the stranger, apparently tempted by the offer.
“You must be firm and resolute, and insist upon bearing your own away
with you. My revenge would not be complete without that.”
“I spurn the offer!” replied the stranger, proudly. “After I have
inflicted the wound, I shall do the best I can to heal it. I shall be
seen no more in this part of the country.”
“Your sensibilities are very delicate,” sneered the doctor.
“You will win your fortune: be satisfied with that. I am not so vile as
you are.”
The doctor handed the stranger a cigar, and then tried to persuade him
to do his work after the heroic style; and while he is thus engaged, we
will leave him, and return to Pine Hill.
The eminent trustees and the distinguished lawyer from Baltimore have
arrived. Mr. John Lester has John Hungerford on his knee. He has no
doubt that the little gentleman is “the legal son of the said legal
father;” and being a man of ample fortune himself, he is rather glad
to get rid of the labor and trouble of managing the three millions
any longer. The distinguished lawyer, who has already examined the
records, is satisfied that Eugene Hungerford was duly and legally
married to Mary K. Buckstone, widow of Eliot Buckstone--deceased beyond
the possibility of a doubt, for his body was found at the bottom of the
channel, fully identified, and buried in the town. The Rev. John Porter
is present, and ready to swear, if need be, that he united the parties.
Dr. Gardner, from the Mills, is ready to satisfy him that Master
Johnnie is the child of his parents. There is no room even for a cavil,
and no one proposes to raise the slightest objection.
In the evening the three dozen or so of intimate friends arrive. Ross
Kingman and lady are there, among the first to come. When Dick went
to Europe, Ross was installed into the office of agent, and since
that time has acted in that capacity. Hubbard became skipper of the
yacht, at Dick’s suggestion, though the old fisherman wanted to know
what he should do with a thousand dollars a year, which was more than
he had been in the habit of earning in five years. Ross receives the
same salary that Dick had, and is regarded as a person of considerable
consequence in Poppleton.
He is what is called a smart business man, and his employer has entire
confidence in his fidelity and his good judgment. He is honored and
respected, though certain people are impressed by the fact that he has
killed a man, in avenging his sister’s honor; to such he is terrible.
On this occasion the library had been prepared as a banquet hall, for
the dining-room is not large enough to accommodate the company. Eugene
is at the head of the table, with Mr. John Lester on his right. Dick
Birch sits at the other end of the board.
“What do you think of my brother-in-law now, Mr. Lester?” asked
Hungerford, as the soup plates were removed. “You were not prejudiced
in his favor the first time you came to Pine Hill, you remember.”
“But, Mr. Hungerford, you placed him in a false position before me,”
protested the eminent trustee.
“And Dr. Bilks?”
“Had you told me that Dr. Bilks was that scapegrace of a Tom Lynch,
I should not have erred in judgment. Without correct premises,
Mr. Hungerford, of course it is impossible to arrive at a correct
conclusion.”
Of course Mr. Lester could have made no mistake; it was not possible
for an eminent merchant like himself to blunder on a question of human
nature.
“I did not know myself that Tom Lynch was amongst us.”
“You were deceived, and unwittingly deceived me. I have the highest
regard for your friend Mr. Birch.”
The supper was finished, and Mr. Lester intimated that he should be
happy to place Eugene Hungerford in possession of the deeds, bonds,
notes, and other securities, which constituted the three millions. The
party adjourned to the drawing-room.
“I believe there is only one person not present who has had any
contingent interest in the property,” said Mr. Lester, who, being an
eminent man, was of course disposed to be formal and precise in the
discharge of a duty so important as that which now devolved upon him.
“Dr. Lynch,” added the lawyer. “His contingent interest ceases to-day.”
“It is quite proper that he should be present, being an interested
party, and I have taken the liberty to invite him to come here at nine
o’clock,” continued Mr. Lester. “You will pardon me for inviting this
unwelcome guest, Mr. Hungerford, but I deemed it best that he should be
here,” he added, in a low tone, to Eugene, who stood by his side.
“I am entirely satisfied.”
“I do not think he will come,” said Mr. Lester. “His contingent
interest no longer exists, and I doubt if he will care to see all the
property slip into your hands.”
The eminent trustee chuckled a little. He was so well satisfied that
the doctor would not come, that he had not even deemed it worth his
while to say before that he had invited him.
“Dr. Lynch is not present,” continued the eminent trustee, “and we will
proceed without him.”
“Dr. Lynch,” said Parkinson, throwing open the door at this moment.
“Ah!” ejaculated Mr. Lester, faintly.
“I am here at the request of Mr. Lester,” said Dr. Lynch, as Eugene
stepped forward to receive the guest.
Eugene made no reply; he was courteous, but he said no more than was
necessary to greet the guest. He gave him a seat.
“By the terms of John Hungerford’s will,” Mr. Lester began again, “a
document drawn up with great care by my learned legal friend, whom you
all have the pleasure of meeting on this interesting occasion, it was
provided that the income of the three millions of dollars, the entire
estate of the testator, should be paid over to Eugene Hungerford,
his nephew, as fast as it accrued. This clause, I believe, has been
faithfully and legally carried out, and the trustees have the receipts
for all moneys paid over to Mr. Hungerford.”
Mr. Lester paused and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. It was
important business, and it must look important.
“By the terms of John Hungerford’s will, it further appears,” he
continued, “that if, when testator’s nephew, Eugene, had attained
the age of thirty years, he was the father of a son, who had been
duly named for his father’s uncle, the whole three millions should
be paid over to the nephew. In order to comply with the terms of the
will, and entitle Mr. Hungerford to the absolute possession of the
property, these questions must be answered. First: Is Eugene Hungerford
legally married? Second: Has he a son? Third: Is this son named John
Hungerford?
“During the day, the trustees, with the valuable assistance of the
distinguished legal gentleman, who drew up the original will, have
considered these three questions, embodying the conditions on which
they were to constitute Mr. Hungerford the sole owner of the property,
and they are happy to say that they find full, complete, legal evidence
which satisfies them that the three conditions have been duly and
properly met.
“The trustees find that Mr. Hungerford was duly married to the
estimable lady known as his wife.” Mr. Lester was so intent upon being
verbose that he quite forgot his early view of the marriage. “They were
united by Rev. John Porter. There is no room to doubt the legality of
the marriage; but unpleasant as it is, this matter must be mentioned.”
Mr. Lester made this apology, because, glancing at Mary, he saw that
her face was quite red, and that she was annoyed by the consideration
of the question.
“There being no doubt on this point----”
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Lester,” interposed Dr. Lynch, in a bland and
almost supercilious tone, “but there is some doubt about it.”
All eyes were directed towards the doctor. Eugene looked stern
and indignant; the conduct of the unwelcome guest appeared like a
premeditated insult to him. Dick Birch’s fingers were involuntarily
clutched together; he was in condition to lay violent hands on the
doctor. Julia placed her finger upon his arm; and this prevented him
from executing the purpose in his mind.
“Dr. Lynch, do I understand you to raise an objection to the legality
of the marriage?” asked Mr. Lester, now quite startled out of his
propriety by the unexpected event.
“I do raise an objection,” replied the doctor, who was already
revelling in the misery he intended to produce.
“What objection?”
“The marriage was not legal,” he replied, triumphantly, as he glanced
at Eugene.
“The ceremony was performed by the reverend gentleman now present; the
marriage is duly recorded, and there are plenty of witnesses of the
fact.”
“I appeal to your legal adviser, at your side, to say whether or not
these are sufficient to constitute a legal marriage!” said Dr. Lynch,
apparently bent upon prolonging the joy of his triumph, and upon
keeping the parties in suspense as long as he could.
“If the parties are competent to marry, they are sufficient,” said the
lawyer.
“But the parties to this marriage were not competent.”
“What do you mean, you villain!” roared Dick Birch, unable any longer
to repress his rage.
“Soft words, if you please, Mr. Birch,” replied Dr. Lynch, with
affected politeness. “I purpose to prove all I allege.”
“What do you allege, Dr. Lynch?” interposed the lawyer.
“I allege that the lady was not competent to marry. She was the wife of
another man.”
“Her husband was dead.”
“I beg your pardon. He was living.”
“Why don’t you prove it?” demanded Dick Birch.
“I will.”
Dr. Lynch went out of the room, opened the front door, and presently
appeared with the stranger whom he had met at his office.
“Here is my proof,” said he, pointing to the stranger.
It was Eliot Buckstone!