Two years had slipped by since Paula's return to America and matters
relating to the inheritance were no nearer actual settlement than
before. They were even more complicated, for the law, with all its
ponderous, intricate machinery, all its chicanery and false swearing,
had been set in motion, not to protect the orphan but to shield those
knaves who sought to enjoy what was not their own.
Tod's startling revelation in his stepfather's library, the morning the
will was being read, regarding John Marsh's secret marriage, came as a
terrible shock to Jimmy. At first he loudly denounced it as a damnable
lie, a blackmailing scheme, the invention of some hidden enemy. Then, as
he grew calmer and learned more details, he began to realize that the
elaborate structure which he had built up so carefully for years was
about to topple and in his disappointment he grew almost hysterical. He
stormed and raved, working himself into such a frenzy that it was
dangerous to go near him. But for Bascom Cooley, who still held out
hope, he would have shot himself. But Cooley, the resourceful, cunning
Cooley advised patience. All might be well. The money was not yet lost
by any means. What were the courts for if not to see that justice was
done? And Mr. Cooley was honest in his belief that a very serious
injustice would be done if the money went anywhere else than into his
own pockets. The new will must be contested. Some way must be devised to
have it declared invalid. It must be shown that John Marsh was insane at
the time he made the will and that the Frenchwoman he lived with was not
his wife. If this were true the girl Paula Marsh was not his legitimate
daughter. The truth of these statements would not be in question for a
moment, for reliable witnesses would go on the stand and solemnly swear
to them. Mr. Cooley knew where such witnesses could be found. It was
only a question of money. The longest purse secured the greatest number
of witnesses, for, strangely enough, very few people are willing to
commit perjury gratis. Cooley attended to everything, and well, he
might. He himself had as much at stake as Jimmy. So, going among his
influential friends, the "men higher up," he set the wheels of justice
moving--in his own direction.
The first gun in the long and bitterly contested legal battle, which
was to follow, was fired directly Leon Ricaby offered the new will to
the Surrogate for probate. Mr. Cooley replied promptly by offering the
first will. An administrator was then appointed by the Surrogate to
conserve the estate during the litigation, and thus the Marsh estate was
tied up into a complicated legal knot which only the Surrogate or a
decree of a competent court could disentangle.
Then began for Paula a long, drawn-out period of mental distress and
physical discomfort, which taxed her patience and powers of endurance to
the utmost. On first arriving in New York, she had taken a modest suite
of rooms in one of Manhattan's luxurious hostelries, but this she soon
found too expensive for her slender purse. Until it was proved that she
was legally entitled to the fortune her father had left, she could not
touch a cent of it. Meantime, her means were limited. Practically all
the available cash she had was a few hundred dollars left from her Paris
allowance. Mr. Ricaby offered to advance her any amount, but she
gratefully declined his assistance, preferring to husband her resources
by the practice of strict economy. The first step was to move into
cheaper quarters. After a long search she found comfortable rooms at
Mrs. Parkes' genteel boarding house on West Fourteenth Street. The
neighborhood was far from fashionable, but Paula did not mind that.
Indeed, she thought it an advantage, preferring to be quiet and
secluded, hidden away, as it were, from the world until the legal fight
was over and she could take her proper place in the world. Besides, she
was nearer now to the poorer districts to which her daily duties called
her, almost next door to the slums where her youthful enthusiasm,
tireless energy, fine humanitarianism were devoted daily to the noble
work of rescuing the needy and unfortunate. This Settlement work, far
from weighing heavily upon her, she regarded as a blessing. It not only
enabled her to do some good in the world, but it kept her mind occupied
while the lawyers were squabbling in the courts.
Of Mr. Ricaby she saw very little. He was busy, working constantly in
her interests, preparing for the trial. The case, he told her, was
already on the calendar and would come up very soon. Victory, for their
side, was, of course, a foregone conclusion. The other side had
virtually not a leg to stand upon. They must be prepared, however, for
any emergency. Bascom Cooley was known to be unscrupulous, a man who
would stop at nothing to gain his ends. Through trickery and his
political pull he had already scored an important point. The judge
before whom the case would come was an intimate friend of his. They
played poker together and belonged to the same political organization.
Was it not possible that he might be tempted to let his sympathies lean
in his crony's favor? Yet even judges dare not betray their trust too
openly. If right were on Paula's side, the Court would be forced to
render a decision in her favor.
Notwithstanding this legal unpleasantness, Paula thought she ought to
call on her uncle, and in this Mr. Ricaby agreed with her. So one
afternoon she dressed herself smartly and rode up Broadway to West
Seventy-second Street. The reception she received was not such as to
encourage her to repeat the visit. Her uncle was out, but Mrs. Marsh
greeted her with frigid politeness and asked her to have tea. While the
two women were taking mental inventory of each other Mr. Marsh came in,
and the situation became more strained.
Jimmy had expected this visit and had prepared himself for it. He had
intended to call the girl an impostor to her face, to drive her from the
house, but now she had come, he did neither. He saw a tall, pale,
aristocratic-looking girl who vaguely, despite the difference of sex,
reminded him of his brother. Yes, now he saw her he knew it was the
truth, but no matter, he would fight just the same. She was his
brother's child, the girl who had come between him and his rightful
inheritance. She was the enemy. But he would fight her and he would win.
Cooley had promised him that. These thoughts were passing through his
mind as he sat in silence, staring gloomily at her. Then he asked
questions about her father and the way they lived in Paris. It seemed to
her that he was most interested in her answers regarding her mother, and
it suddenly occurred to her that he was cross-examining her for the
purpose of the trial. Disconcerted she relapsed into monosyllables and
the atmosphere grew more chilly. There was no hint of legal
difficulties. He merely inquired if she intended to reside permanently
in New York, and expressed the hope that she would always consider their
house her home. Paula silently bowed her thanks, and the ceremonious
call was at an end.
Of Tod Chase she had seen a good deal since the voyage home. He had
asked for permission to call and she assented gladly. The young man
belonged in a way to the enemy's camp, but she did not mind that. On the
ship they had been thrown a good deal in each other's company, and she
had taken a fancy to him. He was always in such good humor, always so
full of animal spirits that his mere presence relieved the general gloom
and cheered her up. He brought her books and magazines and chatted to
her by the hour of a world she did not know and did not care to know. He
talked freely of the coming trial; denounced the whole thing as an
outrage and hotly berated his stepfather and Bascom Cooley as two
scoundrels. He got so worked up over the case that Paula had to laugh.
Only one person was not convinced of his sincerity and that was Mr.
Ricaby. The lawyer was not blind to the fact that the young man was
paying Paula a good deal of attention, and he would have been more than
human had he not resented it.
Thus in a way Paula was happy. In the day time she had her work among
her poor, and the evening she gave up to reading or music. Sometimes Tod
would drop in, and, with Mr. Ricaby, they would have an enjoyable
evening. On rare occasions Harry and Mrs. Parkes would be invited to
join the little circle.
Then came the trial with all its annoyances, all its brutalities. It was
a terrible ordeal for the young girl, and there were times when, utterly
worn out and discouraged, she felt it was beyond her strength to go on.
The opposite side had no mercy on her. Bascom Cooley was not the kind of
man to spare anyone, woman or child. There were no lies and calumnies
that a devilish ingenuity and brazen impudence could invent that he did
not concoct in order to attack the new will. To discredit the new
claimant, he grossly insulted her; to belittle the will, he calumniated
the dead man. He produced witnesses who swore on the stand that John
Marsh, of late years, was an entirely changed man, irresponsible for his
actions. They testified that he not only drank himself to death, but
that he acted irrationally and was clean out of his mind. Physicians in
Cooley's employ gave corroborative evidence, with some modifications.
Mr. Cooley, triumphant, argued that his client, Mr. James Marsh, had
amply proved his claim. He alone was entitled to the estate under the
original will which was executed at a time when the deceased was in
possession of all his faculties. If, thundered the lawyer, the second
will was not a damnable forgery--and significantly he added, they had
not yet had time to go into that phase of it--it was the work of a crazy
man. He would go still further----
Now he did a horrible thing. Not content with vilifying the father, he
besmirched the character of Paula's mother. Granted, he shouted, that
John Marsh was not crazy--even then the girl had no legal claim to the
estate, for she was illegitimate. John Marsh never married her mother!
Instantly Mr. Ricaby was on his feet with an indignant protest. Was it
not scandal enough, he cried hotly, that members of the bar should
prostitute their profession by putting perjured witnesses on the stand
without further disgracing themselves by wantonly insulting a
defenseless girl? The insinuation of illegitimacy was a cowardly and
venomous lie, an outrageous falsehood which could be nailed on the spot,
for, luckily, his client, Miss Marsh, had safe in her possession her
mother's marriage certificate. As to the other statements made under
oath regarding John Marsh's mental condition, they were equally reckless
and fabricated solely for the purpose of influencing the court's
decision. The witnesses he would call would refute the allegations
entirely.
Long before the trial closed, it was apparent that Mr. Ricaby had by far
the best of it. But the fight was not yet won. There were delays and
more delays. Mr. Cooley, feeling he was losing ground, changed his
tactics. Instead of pushing the case, he sought to gain time. Finally
when the evidence was all in, and counsel for either party had exhausted
their arguments and powers of vituperation, the Court calmly reserved
its decision, and the long, tedious wait and suspense began all over
again.
Paula was glad it was over, and at heart was not really concerned about
the outcome. Of course, the money would be welcome. It was hers, and it
was her duty to claim it. When it was in her possession, she saw in her
mind's eye a thousand miracles that might be worked with it to bring
comfort and joy into many a desolate home. But if she lost--well, then
she would go cheerfully to work and support herself. There were times
when she wondered if she would ever marry. Perhaps she would, but whom?
There was no one she cared particularly about. At one time she thought a
good deal of Mr. Chase, but since the beginning of the trial she had
seen less of him. His visits to the boarding house were less frequent,
and it seemed to her that his attitude was more distant. After all, it
was only natural. No matter how much he might sympathize with her, he
must realize that a victory for her would mean a terrible blow to his
own mother. She could not blame him if he stood aloof. Mr. Ricaby had
never liked him. Perhaps she herself was mistaken in him. His profession
of friendship might be only a blind in order to pry into her movements.
She smiled to herself as she reflected that she certainly would not care
to marry Harry Parkes. Yet her landlady's son was the only male who,
thus far had ventured to pay court to her. Always solicitous for the
welfare of everybody around her, she was sorry for Harry Parkes. That he
had faults, she overlooked. He had some good traits--therefore she
concluded that there was still hope for him. She tried to get him
interested in her Settlement work and offered to find for him duties
which he would find congenial. But Harry, his faith in himself unshaken,
received all such suggestions with a grimace. As was to be expected, he
put a wrong construction on her sympathetic attitude, mistaking kindly
interest for adoration of his manly charms, and last evening when they
were alone in the parlor he had attempted liberties which she
indignantly resented. She let him plainly understand that if it happened
again she would be forced to leave the house. That is why she was not
particularly grateful to Mrs. Parkes for leaving them alone now. Her
mind was too preoccupied for small talk. At any moment, Mr. Ricaby had
telephoned her, the Court might be expected to hand down its decision.
Still, not wishing to appear curt, she said:
"Your mother is remarkably amiable this afternoon, Mr. Parkes."
Harry woke up with a start.
"Yes--yes--she is--she is!" he stammered. There was a short silence, and
then he said:
"Miss Marsh--I want to apologize for--for--for my--my--conduct the other
night----"
"Apologize!" she exclaimed, as if not understanding.
"Yes," he stammered. "I'm very sorry--very sorry----"
"Sorry--why, what did you do?" she demanded.
Harry looked at her in surprise.
"It isn't what I did so much," he said hesitatingly, "as what I
said--I--want--you to forgive me----"
Paula smiled.
"There's nothing to forgive, Mr. Parkes. The fact is, you won't think
I--I'm rude, will you--but--I hardly remember what happened last night.
I was very weak and foolish, and I'm afraid I gave way to--to tears. I
don't believe in tears--it seems you're sorry for yourself--and I'm not
sorry for myself--I'm angry with my relations--I'm angry because they
make me angry. I love peace and happiness and a calm, quiet life--and
they make my existence a hell on earth--with their attacks on my father
and mother and their lawsuits. My heart is always in my mouth--I'm
always afraid that something dreadful is going to happen--any moment I
may hear the Court's decision. I'm unhappy, Mr. Parkes--and I've no
right to be unhappy. I'm young and I have a happy disposition--every
capacity to enjoy my life but----" Shaking her head, she added: "But
there, I'm not going to bother you with my troubles. You're home
early----"
"You're sure that you're not angry with me?"
"Why, no--what for--whatever did you say or do?"
He hesitated and looked at her, trying to read her mind. Her
self-possession disconcerted him.
"Never mind," he said finally, "I was very foolish----"
"Were you?" she replied calmly. "I didn't notice anything out of the
ordinary."
He advanced a step nearer and his voice was agitated, as he burst out:
"You see, Miss Marsh, I----"
"Do you mind calling me Paula," she said in the most matter-of-fact
tone. "I hate the name of Marsh--it's my Uncle James' name--and it's
always on those horrid law papers--'_Marsh versus Marsh_.' It's always
connected with defendants and plaintiffs and--affidavits--and other
horrible instruments of torture. My heart beats every time I see the
dreadful words. _Marsh versus Marsh!_ I dream of _Marsh versus
Marsh_--and when I wake up in the morning--the first thing that greets
me in the morning paper is _Marsh versus Marsh_. I hate the name--I hate
it!"
Was this the opportunity? Harry did not know but he seized it.
"Why--why not change it?" he murmured.
Paula smiled.
"That idea has occurred to me dozens of times," she said gaily. "I will
when this horrible lawsuit is settled."
His companion grew a shade paler.
"Is that a--a bargain----" he asked seriously.
"Yes," she laughed.
"And may I--pick--pick out a suitable name for you----?"
"If you like," she said lightly; "any old name will
do--Smith--Jones--Billikins----"
"Even Par--Parkes?" he suggested.
"Yes--even Parkes," she laughed. "Anything but Marsh----"
The door opened and Mrs. Parkes entered, carrying a tray with tea.
"Here we are--here we are," she said cheerily, "a fresh cup of tea--I
opened a new packet of Lipton on purpose. Say, that Lipton makes elegant
tea! Oh, I've forgotten the toast. Harry, run down and get it, there's
a dear boy." Turning to Paula, she added: "He is a dear boy, isn't he?"
"Just like his father, I think you once told me," rejoined Paula, with a
covert smile.
"Did I? Well, he is in some ways--and in some ways he isn't."
"Mother, please!" exclaimed Harry. "I'm afraid I'm like you, Miss
Paula--I don't like to be reminded of my relations-- I'll get the toast,
mother."
He left the room to go foraging for toast, while Mrs. Parkes began
pouring out tea.
"Did the dear boy tell you?" she asked. "He said he was going to
apologize but----"
"Will you kindly tell me what the dear boy did that needs so much
apology?" said Paula.
"He's so impulsive," said Mrs. Parkes, with a sigh. "To that extent he
is like his father--but--he feels as I do that until your lawsuit is
settled one way or the other, he should not have asked you to be his
wife. One lump or two?"
Paula opened wide her eyes.
"Be his wife?" she exclaimed. "One lump? No, two. Did he ask me to marry
him?"
"Yes. Didn't he? He said he did----"
"So that's what it was--great Heavens! I've been proposed to--and I
didn't know it----"
"Of course, he has my consent," went on Mrs Parkes, in a patronizing
tone.
"Of course, I mean--thank you--that's rather nice," rejoined Paula,
trying to conceal a laugh. "You're awfully good--but--this is nice tea,
isn't it?"
"Why, you haven't tasted it yet," protested the landlady.
"No--I'm just going to. The aroma--is----" Gulping the tea down she
scalded herself. "It's hot, isn't it?"
The door reopened and Harry reappeared with the toast.
"Mr. Ricaby has just come in," he blurted out. "He wants to see you at
once--says it is most important. I told him to come right up. Why, Miss
Marsh, what's the matter----?"
Paula had turned pale. The teacup almost fell from her trembling hand.
Perhaps her attorney had brought the message which she had been so
anxiously expecting. Had he brought good news?
"You look frightened to death, my dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Parkes.
Paula rose.
"May I ask you to excuse me?" she said. "Mr. Ricaby wants to see me on
most important business connected with my lawsuit. I would like to see
him alone."
"Certainly, my dear," said Mrs. Parkes, rising. "We'll take the tea in
my room. Come, Harry, help me with the tray."
The young man frowned disapproval at this most untimely interruption,
but there was no help for it. With a glance at Paula that received no
response, he rebelliously picked up the tray and followed his mother
out.