IN DEEP DESPAIR
Judy was curled up like a dog on the library door mat. “I will not get
up—I will not get up,” she cried, groveling at Vivienne’s feet, as she
came out, “till you tell me that you are not going to leave us.”
“I am,” said Vivienne; “but you are to go with me.”
“With you, my precious?” cried the girl springing to her feet. “Where
are you going?”
“To England.”
“When?” almost screamed the excited girl.
“To-morrow.”
“And Stanton—what is he going to do?”
“Marry me and go too.”
“Oh this is delicious,” said Judy clasping her around the waist. “I
never dreamed of this. Oh I will be good. I shall never get out of
temper now,” and she sidled in ecstasy up and down the hall.
“My father will accompany us, I hope,” said Vivienne. “I wish never to
separate from him again. I must go to see him now, the beloved martyr. I
can scarcely believe that he is here; so many wonderful things have
happened to-night. My head is in a whirl.”
“Don’t go,” said Judy detaining her. "Mamma gave him the best room in
the house, where he has, I hope, quietly gone to sleep. You will see him
in a few hours; let us talk some more about England and your marriage. I
don’t understand perfectly yet. Things have been so rushed that I am
confused. Will you explain to me about your father? I thought Uncle
Colonel liked him. Why did he wish to get rid of him?”
“Dear Judy,” and Vivienne drew the girl to a seat beside her, “it seems
to me that all the trouble and all the comfort in the world comes
through women. You know sometimes men love the women they should not. It
is a shocking thing to say, but my father tells me that Colonel Armour
loved my mother better than he has ever loved any person in the world.”
“Shocking indeed,” said Judy, “in plain English, brutal; for I suppose
in liking her, his first thought was to get rid of your father.”
“Yes, he wished to ruin him, to bring about a separation between him and
my mother, and he hoped that my father, being of a sensitive nature,
would take his own life, and my mother being proud and hating treachery,
would despise his memory and marry him.”
“The old wretch!”
“But my mother was more clever than he thought her. She understood his
wiles, and though she could prove nothing, she told him that he himself
had falsified the books that he accused my father of doing, and that she
loved her husband more than ever when he became an unhappy victim.”
“And where does MacDaly come in?”
“He overheard a conversation in which my father rebuked Colonel Armour
for his obsequious attentions paid to my mother during the absence of
her husband. Colonel Armour lost his temper and in a fury dismissed him
from his service, declaring that he would ruin him.”
“Which he certainly did,” interrupted Judy. “It is a strange thing that
all this has not been found out before. That creature MacDaly ought to
be horsewhipped.”
“He was afraid for himself,” said Vivivenne, “for it was he that set the
warehouse on fire.”
“What, MacDaly?”
“Yes, but without an intention of doing it. It happened in this way: he
listened to the altercation between my father and Colonel Armour, then
went into a place of hiding. No stir was made with regard to the affair,
so he issued from his place and loitered about to hear later on a
conversation between Colonel Armour and Stanton. Colonel Armour said
that he was coming back that evening to write in the office. This was
unusual; MacDaly suspected that it bore on my father’s case and resolved
to watch. Therefore returning stealthily at an earlier hour than his
customary one to the warehouse, he saw Colonel Armour enter and leave
his office. MacDaly then crept to the room. He found the safes closed,
but he guessed shrewdly that his master had been tampering with the
accounts of his clerk. While shuffling over loose papers on the table he
mistakenly thought he heard Colonel Armour’s returning step. He ran,
forgetting a lighted cigar or pipe he had laid down. It set fire to the
papers. MacDaly, watching from the wharf, saw the windows bright with
flames. He rushed to the spot but he could not extinguish the fire. He
feared to call for help, and not till the passers-by saw the blazing
building, was an alarm sounded. Then unfortunately, it was too late. The
cunning MacDaly hid himself till the fire was over; but Colonel Armour
suspected his connection with it, and taxed him with it, only sparing
him from exposure because his purpose was to have my father blamed. This
is a whip that he has held over MacDaly’s head to keep him from making
any revelations about my father.”
“That if he did he would be punished for setting fire to the building?”
said Judy inquiringly.
“Yes, Colonel Armour frightened him by saying that he would prove that
he had done it intentionally, which by the common law is felony. The
simple MacDaly knew that his master was rich and powerful, and he did
not dare to brave him.”
“And how do you feel about it all?”
“It is horrible,” whispered Vivienne raising her hands as if to lift
some heavy weight from her shoulders. “To think of all these years of
agony, my mother’s death, my father’s martyrdom, Stanton’s slow misery,
my unhappiness, and all through the sin of one man. Now all seems
brightness except the living death that has come upon the one who has
caused all this trouble. If he never comes out of it, Judy, if he has no
chance for repentance!”
“Don’t worry about him,” said Judy scornfully. “Think of your father.
Hasn’t he a sweet face, and isn’t he a perfect gentleman? And you and
Stanton thought to find him in some cobbler’s shop!”
“A cobbler can be a gentleman, Judy.”
“Ah, Miss Aristocrat, you’ve rather changed your opinions since you came
to Halifax. By the way, why do we leave so soon as to-morrow? Is it
because you are in a hurry to get Stanton away?”
“Yes, Judy.”
“And here comes that man you are so proud of. I think I’ll go to bed.
I’ve stuff for a dozen nightmares.”