FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS.
“Miss Spicer, if you’ll promise never to mention it, I’ll tell you
something,” said the maid, after a little consideration.
“Well, I promise!”
“That man, Mr. Ross, I mean, once forced himself into our garden,
trampled down the beds, and insisted on finding madam in one of the
green-houses, where he did find her, and there they talked together in a
strange way. I did not hear what they said, being in another part of the
garden, and old Storms there, so that I could not get closer; but his
voice was loud and clear, and hers—— Well, I can’t tell you what hers
was like, only there was something that went to my heart in it—tears
buried out of sight since she was a girl. I should say——”
“Well, Ellen, you have surprised me. Who would have thought it of her—so
proud, so grandly self-possessed? I never dreamed that she could give
way.”
“Give way! Why, that man left her on the conservatory floor in a dead
swoon,” said Ellen Post, bringing her story to a climax with thrilling
dexterity.
Miss Spicer sunk down on the carpet, by the billowy waves of silk that
Ellen had dropped there, holding up her hands in astonishment.
“Mrs. Lambert in a swoon, a down right fainting fit! I can’t believe it.
Indeed, indeed, I can’t.”
“You may, for I helped to bring her out, and a dreadful time we had of
it. All that night long she lay like a dead woman, and never spoke a
word, except one, and that was a name.”
“What name, Ellen?”
“Herman. I never heard it before, and I don’t know who it belongs to in
the least,” answered the lady’s maid.
“Herman; that is _his_ name—Herman Ross.”
“Then, one thing is sure!”
“What is that, Ellen?”
“She loves that man.”
“Ellen Post, you take away my breath!”
“She loves that man. It was him she was dressing for that night, when
nothing could please her.”
“The night of Mrs. Carter’s party; do you mean that, Ellen?”
“Of course I mean that. Never saw her so hard to please. I took off her
diamonds twice, and had to put them on again at last. Never saw anything
like it. In any other person I should have known the signs; but who
would suspect her of wanting to please any one in particular? But it’s
all clear now. We’ve settled on the right man.”
“Why, Ellen, he’s going to marry this Laurence girl himself!”
“What! The man _she_ loves?”
“As true as I sit here—he is engaged to her! It all came out at the
party. Mrs. Carter told it. This Ross is her brother, you know.”
“That was what made her so white and wild. I understand it all now. That
is why she kept repeating the girl’s name in her sleep, which was more
like a fit than natural slumber. She has not been herself since.”
“No, you are right there; she seems like one stupefied by a blow—and
Ivon is not much better. He was wild as a hawk that night. Only think of
it—mother and son; but it serves him right. I have no compassion for
him, and all but engaged to me.”
“But if she marries this Ross, all will be at an end with Mr. Ivon.”
“No, it won’t. He thinks her the loveliest, the most beautiful and
accomplished creature in the world. Being married won’t hurt her with
him. He will never think any one fit to untie her shoes. I want him to
despise her—hate her. I want to break up this match, which is killing
your poor mistress.”
“But how?”
“I don’t know. What is the good of being rich when the thing you want
most can’t be got for money. Oh, if I had that girl under my feet how I
would stamp her down!”
Ellen Post seated herself by the window, and fell into thought. She was
a sharp, even-tempered schemer, who saw a chance of killing several
birds with one stone, if it only could be brought about. Her ideas were
crude as yet, but she saw a gleam of daylight through them.
“Five thousand dollars! Did you say that, Miss Spicer?”
“I said five thousand dollars. I don’t know what I said, but I’d give
even that. But what is the good?”
“And you mean it?”
“Mean it? No, I don’t mean it, for the thing isn’t possible. If it were
I wouldn’t hesitate a moment.”
“What you want is to disgrace the girl, so that neither of these men
would think of marrying her?”
“That is what I am pining for, and what will make your lady a well and
happy woman. It is for her sake.”
“Never mind! I see!” said Ellen, interrupting the young lady without
ceremony. “Now there are various kinds of disgrace; some think poverty
enough.”
“But that won’t do here; she is poor as a church mouse already, and they
do not care a straw for it.”
“Yes, I understand. We must plunge deeper than that. When it is
accomplished, I may be sure of the five thousand?”
“I might promise safely, and call it fifty thousand; but, if it is
possible for you to place this girl in a position which will drive all
honorable men from her, I will gladly give you the sum I at first spoke
of.”
“And the madam?”
“She must know nothing of this. She would condemn us, and reject our
help, though it is mostly for her good,” said the young lady, with
emphasis. “This must rest between you and myself. If another soul is
informed, I for one will throw up the bargain.”
“There is no need of that,” said Ellen, half buried in thought.
“Furthermore, I must have nothing to do with this, only so far as the
money is concerned.”
“That is understood. In fact, I see nothing that you could be of use
in.”
“Of course not.”
“Nor do I see how any one can act as yet; but all the same, Miss Spicer,
I shall earn your money.”
“Very well; I don’t ask how. I only wish for a thing, and when it comes
to pass, give so much money.”
“Five thousand,” said the maid.
“Five thousand,” answered the young lady, and the bargain was closed.