SORELY PERSECUTED
Bertha was alarmed to find the name of Mr. Grayle on the note. She
hoped Mr. Presby had no business relations with such a man, and she was
frightened at the thought of seeing him again. He had insulted her at
Woodville, and he might do so in New York. But her errand must be done;
and she hoped he would not be in his office.
Mr. Grayle was in his private room with several gentlemen when she
reached her destination. She gave the note to his clerk, and saw it
delivered. It was a lucky escape, and she retreated from the place well
satisfied with the result. As Mr. Presby had told her she need not
hurry back, she decided to call upon Mr. Sherwood again.
“I’m very glad to see you again, Miss Grant,” said the clerk, as she
entered the office; “I have good news for you.”
“Has my father got out of the Tombs?” asked Bertha, to whom this seemed
to be the only good news that could come to her.
“No; not quite so good as that,” replied the clerk, shaking his head.
“You saw the gentleman who was with me when you left the office this
morning?”
“I did.”
“Did you know him?”
“I did not, though his face seemed strangely familiar.”
“It was your uncle, from Valparaiso.”
“Uncle Obed?”
“Yes, I suppose that is his name; at any rate, he is your father’s only
brother.”
“Oh, I am so glad!” exclaimed Bertha, “for I know that he can save my
father.”
“Your father shall be saved, any way; but for the present your
uncle cannot do much. He is a stranger in New York. His business in
Valparaiso was entirely with English merchants.”
“Where is he now?”
“He is stopping at the Astor House. If your father can be set at
liberty, your uncle will take care of his pecuniary matters as soon as
his funds arrive from England.”
“I will call and see him.”
“I think he has gone to Philadelphia, to see a friend who will furnish
him with money to pay off your father’s most pressing debts.”
“That is just like Uncle Obed,” said Bertha.
“He remained with me all the forenoon. He knows about Brace Brothers,
and he says they have only suspended and will, eventually pay all they
owe. If this is the case, Mr. Grant will yet come out all right. As
the matter stands now, if your father could raise about fifty thousand
dollars, it would keep him out of trouble till the affairs of Brace
Brothers are settled up. This your uncle will endeavor to procure.”
“Will Mr. Grayle be paid then?” asked Bertha.
“Mr. Grayle has already been paid. He has taken Woodville, though he
says the estate will not pay him what he has advanced. I suppose it
would not, if sold at auction, and he does not like the bargain. As
soon as he pressed your father, and threw him into prison, others
became clamorous for their money. I hope your uncle will be able to
raise the sum needed.”
“I am sure he will.”
“He is very doubtful, for all his friends are in England, and all his
property is there. He has retired from business, and means to settle in
this vicinity, as soon as he can close up his affairs, and invest his
wealth in this country. He was very anxious to see you.”
“I will see him at once, if I can.”
On her way uptown, she called at the Astor House; but Uncle Obed had
gone to Philadelphia, as the clerk thought.
It was time for her to return to Mr. Presby’s. Her father and his
affairs now engrossed all her attention, and she even forgot those of
her invalid employer. It was certainly good news that Uncle Obed had
arrived. Her father had written to him several months before, and she
had felt that, if he would come, all would be well. He could get Mr.
Grant out of prison; he could recover possession of Woodville; and he
could advance money to pay her father’s debts, and thus save him from
his creditors till the affairs of Brace Brothers were settled.
But Uncle Obed seemed to be almost powerless, after all. He had come,
but he was a stranger in the land, with no means and no credit. He had
wealth enough, but it might as well have been at the bottom of the Red
Sea, so far as any present use was concerned.
Her father was still in prison.
Woodville was still in possession of Mr. Grayle.
Creditors representing fifty thousand dollars were still ready to
harass her father.
Here were three tremendous obstacles in the path of her father. Bertha
felt that she was but a child, and she could do nothing against such
fearful odds; but still her mission was to save her father. The coming
of Uncle Obed would keep the family from want; but all her father had
seemed to be lost, and nothing but beggary or dependence to be before
him. It was doubtful whether Uncle Obed could do anything before it was
too late to save her father from ruin. What could she do herself? Alas!
nothing.
Still thinking of these things, she arrived at the door of Mr. Presby’s
house. As she went up the stone steps, the thought came, that perhaps
she might do something; but it was too absurd to be cherished, and she
dismissed it at once. She was so absorbed with these reflections that
she did not think of the night key in her pocket, and rang the bell.
The summons was promptly answered by John, who opened the door about a
foot, and placed himself in the aperture.
“Who do you wish to see, miss?” asked he, politely.
“I wish to see Mr. Presby--the old gentleman.”
“Do you? Well, he isn’t at home.”
“Not at home?”
“He has just gone out of town, and won’t be back for three days.”
“If you will let me in, I will go to my room,” said Bertha, who did not
believe John’s ridiculous story.
“Eh?” added the man, with a kind of leer, as though he did not
understand her.
“I say I will go to my room, if you please.”
“Your room? Pray, miss, where is your room?”
“It is the small chamber over the hall.”
“Really, miss, I don’t understand you. I don’t see how your room can be
in this house.”
“Don’t you know me, John?” asked Bertha, astonished at this singular
reception.
“Don’t I know you? How should I know you?” replied he, with an innocent
look.
“I am the young lady Mr. Presby engaged to-day.”
“Mr. Presby didn’t engage any young lady to-day.”
“Why, yes he did, John. You know me very well. Didn’t you talk with me
when I went out, two hours ago, and ask me where I was going?”
“I? ’Pon my word, I never saw you before in my life!” protested John,
apparently amazed at this statement.
It was greeted by a loud laugh from the entry behind him. It was the
same voice she had heard before, and Bertha supposed it must be Miss
Ellen.
“Then, if you will call Mr. Presby, he will assure you I am the person
he engaged.”
“How can I tell him when he is out of town?”
“He is not out of town, John.”
“Oh, now, that does not sound like a lady, to doubt my word; but I will
call Mr. Edward Presby.”
“I do not wish to see him.”
“Then I can’t do anything for you, miss.”
“I will go up to my room.”
“We don’t let strangers into the house,” replied John, decidedly.
“What do you mean, John? You know me well enough.”
“Never saw you before in my life; and if you doubt my word, I shall
never want to see you again.”
“Send her away, John,” said the female in the hall.
“Good evening, miss; if you call next week, you may see Mr. Presby,”
said John, with one of those wicked leers with which he accompanied his
polite impudence, and closed the door in her face.
Bertha, astounded by this incident, retired from the door, and moved
down the street again. Such villainy and such trickery were beyond her
comprehension. She had actually been denied admission to the house of
her employer. But she had spirit enough not to yield the point. She
had walked down the street but a short distance before she thought of
the night key in her pocket, and then she determined to return, and
to make her way to Mr. Presby’s library, whether John was willing or
not, for it did not occur to her that he would carry his opposition so
far as to prevent her by force from doing so. It was evident that Mr.
Presby’s son and daughter intended to prevent her from remaining with
him. They feared her influence--that she might comfort and encourage
the invalid, and thus prolong his life; or be an available witness in
a contested will case; or that she might in some manner prevent them
from controlling the old man’s thoughts or actions. “You must not love
me, or they will hate you,” had been the warning of the father. If they
wished to prevent her from seeing Mr. Presby again, it would be hard
for her to do so.
Bertha felt that the old man was in the hands of his enemies, though
they were his own children, and higher considerations than her own
comfort and welfare prompted her not to yield to the conspiracy. She
could not desert the old gentleman when he had been so kind to her.
Obeying this generous impulse, she hastened up the steps, and inserted
the night key as quickly as she could. The door was opened without
difficulty, and, not stopping to close it, she hung up the night key
on the nail from which she had taken it, and opened the inner door,
intending to run upstairs before John should appear to dispute her
passage.
She was partially successful, and had ascended a few steps before the
vigilant manservant showed himself. But John, whom Mrs. Presby regarded
as a useful person in the house, was as active as he was keen. No
sooner did he discover that he had, in some mysterious manner, been
circumvented, than he sprang up the stairs, and, catching hold of her
dress, pulled her down to the door again.
“Who is it, John?” called the voice of the female from an adjoining
room.
“It is the girl that tried to get in a few moments ago.”
“A thief--isn’t she, John?” said Mr. Edward Presby, who now appeared in
the hall, followed by his wife and his sister.
“I suppose so, sir,” replied the ready John. “She has been prowling
about the house all day. I have sent her away twice.”
“But how did she get in?” demanded Mr. Presby.
“That’s more than I know; but this kind of folks always find a way to
open a door,” answered John, with a wicked grin.
“How did you get in?” said Mr. Presby, sternly.
“Hush, Ned,” whispered Miss Ellen, pointing upstairs.
“No fear of him; he is fast asleep in the back chamber,” muttered John.
But Mr. Presby acted upon this caution, and, taking Bertha by the arm,
led her into the dining-room, in the rear, where the invalid could not
hear what transpired.
“Now, how did you get in?” repeated Mr. Presby, in the same stern tone
he had used before, as though he were speaking to a common thief, whom
he hated and despised.
“I came in with the night key,” replied Bertha, appalled at the turn
which the affair had taken.
“Where did you get the night key?”
“I took it from the nail when I went out.”
“When you went out! When was that?”
“I know what she means. She stole the key when she came to the door
with the foolish inquiries,” observed Miss Ellen.
“Did you miss the keys, John?” asked Mr. Presby.
“I did not, sir. I don’t believe she got in that way. I will go and
see;” and he left the room.
In a moment he returned, declaring the two night keys were hanging on
the nail, where he had seen them half a dozen times during the day.
“She picked the lock, then,” added Mr. Presby.
“Well, I hope something will be done about it this time,” said Mrs.
Presby. “You caught a woman in the hall once before, and let her go
because she was well dressed.”
“That was a mistake of mine; and I will not make another of the same
kind. John, you may go for an officer.”
“For mercy’s sake, Mr. Presby, don’t send me to prison!” said Bertha,
terrified beyond expression.
“That is just what the woman said, in almost the same words,” added
Mrs. Presby.
“Don’t you know me, sir?” pleaded Bertha. “I was in the library when
you were there this afternoon.”
“No use,” replied Mr. Presby, shaking his head. “That kind of stuff
won’t go down.”
“The other thief said she wanted to see her sister, who was a servant
in the house,” said Miss Ellen.
“It is a plain case, miss, and there is no use of wasting words in idle
stories. I let one thief escape, and I will not permit another to slip
through my fingers.”
“I am no thief, sir. I beg you to send up to your father, and he will
assure you I am not a thief,” pleaded Bertha.
“My father is out of town.”
Poor Bertha could say nothing to move her persecutors; and, in despair,
she relapsed into silence. In a few moments John returned with a
policeman. Mr. Presby and his man told their story, and the officer
thought it was a very plain case.
“Come, miss,” said he, taking her by the arm and leading her out into
the street.