STAKED AND LOST
That night Miss Mehetabel died suddenly of heart disease.
How the next few days passed Brownie never knew, but it was all over at
last.
There were no near relatives, only some distant cousins, and these,
knowing they had no claim upon the old lady’s money, did not deem it
worth their while to come to the funeral. So Brownie and Aspasia, who
had proved herself a real comfort in these days of trial, sat alone,
excepting the servants and a few intimate acquaintances, in those great
somber rooms, while those last sad words were spoken above the dead.
And then they carried her forth to her last long home, and laid her
beside those other dear ones, who had been gone so many years.
It seemed to Brownie as if she were almost the only one living—as if all
the world had died and were buried, when she returned to that great
house in all its lonely splendor.
“Oh, Aspasia,” she cried, throwing herself into Miss Huntington’s arms,
with her first wild burst of tears, “What shall I do? I have nobody in
the world now to love me.”
“Don’t talk so, darling,” she said, her own tears flowing in sympathy.
“I love you better than any one else in the world, and I will never
forsake you.”
She little knew how soon her words would be put to the test.
“I know you love me, dear, but you cannot stay with me; you will soon go
home, where you have a fond father and mother, brothers and sisters,
while I have no one. I have no object in life, Aspasia, now that auntie
is gone,” and again the torrent of grief rushed forth.
Miss Huntington made her lie down, and soothed her as she would a child.
With her own dainty hands she removed her boots, brought a soft pair of
slippers and put them on, then bathed her head, and worked over her
until she grew calm again.
Their conversation was interrupted by a servant coming to tell them that
Miss Douglas’ presence was required in the library to listen to the
reading of the will. The summons made the poor girl’s grief burst forth
afresh.
“Oh, auntie, auntie!” she sobbed, “your money will be nothing to me
without you—gold without love is worthless.”
“You will go down with me, Aspasia,” she said, holding out her hand to
her friend as she arose to obey the request.
“Certainly, dear, if you wish,” was the kind reply, and the two friends
descended to the library, to find Miss Mehetabel’s lawyer, the family
doctor, and clergyman awaiting their appearance.
Brownie greeted them with a graceful inclination of her head, then
seated herself to await their business.
Rev. Mr. Ashley approached and took her hand.
“My dear Miss Douglas,” he said, and his voice shook with sympathy as he
looked into her sad face, “it was your aunt’s request that her will be
read immediately after the funeral ceremonies, and as our good friend,
the doctor, and myself were witnesses to that document, we were invited
to be present at the reading of it.”
Brownie bowed. She could not speak, for the tears were choking her so.
What was wealth to her in her lonely condition.
She knew everything was willed to her, for Miss Mehetabel had told her
so, but her generous little heart recoiled from having so much, when
there was no one but herself on whom to lavish it.
Mr. Ashley retired to a seat, and signified to Mr. Conrad, the lawyer,
that they were ready to listen.
He took up the legal-looking document from the table, near which he was
sitting, and began to read.
Everything, as she had expected, was given to Brownie, excepting a
legacy of five hundred dollars to each of the trusty servants, who had
been with her so many years.
All the plate, the house, with its elegant furnishings, the stable, with
its fine horses and carriages, were hers, and she privileged to choose
whom she liked to manage her affairs in the future.
There was a long silence after the lawyer ceased reading.
Brownie sat listless, and gazing absently out of the window, and feeling
so strange and lonely, as if some great burden had suddenly fallen upon
her.
“Ahem! ah—Miss Douglas—will you kindly give me your attention for a few
moments?” asked Mr. Conrad, breaking in upon her reverie, and speaking
with great embarrassment.
She started violently.
“Yes, sir; I beg your pardon for seeming inattentive,” she said, and the
color leaped into her face for a moment.
She waited a few moments, but he seemed suddenly to have become as
absent-minded as she had been.
She glanced at him, and was amazed at his appearance, while the doctor
and Mr. Ashley exchanged wondering glances.
Mr. Conrad was an elderly man of about sixty; his hair was gray, and his
face was wrinkled, but it was a noble face withal.
At this moment it seemed to be convulsed with pain.
His lips were drawn into a tight line across his teeth, and were almost
livid, while the cords stood out hard and knotted upon his forehead, and
the hand which held the will trembled visibly.
Brownie forgot herself instantly when she saw his evident suffering.
“Mr. Conrad, are you ill? Let me call Jones to get you something,” she
exclaimed, half rising to ring the bell.
“No, Miss Douglas, keep your seat. My illness is of the mind, not of the
body,” he replied, in tones of deepest pain.
Then, quickly rising, he went over and stood before her, with bowed
head, and hands clinched, as if he were struggling with some terrible
emotion.
“Miss Brownie,” he continued, speaking very gently and humbly, “I have a
very humiliating confession to make. I pray you, when you have heard it,
to judge me as kindly as you can, and whatever you do with me to meet
the claims of justice, if you will only say on your own part that you
forgive an old man, it will take the heaviest burden of my life from my
heart.”
She could not understand what this proud, self-reliant man, who for many
years had had charge of all her aunt’s affairs, could mean by speaking
in this humble, broken way to her.
“You wonder at my words,” he went on, “and yet you look trustingly upon
me; but it will not be quite so when I tell you that I have betrayed
that trust.”
“Betrayed my trust!” she repeated.
“Yes, betrayed your trust, betrayed your aunt’s trust, and played the
villain of the deepest dye. Miss Douglas, I have made a beggar of you!”
“Conrad, man, are you mad?” exclaimed Dr. Sargeant.
“Surely, my friend, you do not mean anything so bad as you have stated,”
said the kind-hearted clergyman, in grave tones.
“A beggar!” cried Miss Huntington, she alone taking in the full sense of
the word, and appalled at her friend’s calamity.
“Did you understand me, Miss Douglas?” asked Mr. Conrad, somewhat
impatiently, and wondering at her apathy, while he did not heed the
questions of the others.
“Yes; you said I—I should not have my property,” she replied, avoiding
the harsh words he had used.
“Heavens! how indifferent you are: I said I had made you a beggar. Not a
pauper in the streets has less than you will have when the debts are all
paid,” he cried, sinking into a chair by her side, the sweat rolling off
his face.
“Yes, yes, I know what you mean,” Brownie said, arousing herself when
she saw how distressed he appeared, then added: “But please, Mr. Conrad,
do not look so—do not feel so badly about it. I know auntie trusted you
fully, and I am sure it was something you could not help; I dare say, I
shall not mind it so very much when I get used to it,” she concluded,
gently.
The stricken lawyer groaned aloud. He had been prepared for tears, and
sobs, and censure; and here the noble girl was forgetting all her own
wrong, and striving to comfort him for his share in it.
“Dear Mr. Conrad, will you please explain this disagreeable affair to
me? I see it is troubling you very much. I do not understand much about
business, but I will listen attentively, and try to comprehend,” she
said, gently.
“God bless you, dear child, for your goodness to me,” he said, taking
her hand in one of his, while he wiped his moist brow with the other. “I
do not deserve it from you. Yes, I will explain at once, and have this
dreadful burden off my mind; it has nearly crushed me for years. You
know, dear, that I have had the care of your aunt’s property for the
last forty years—in fact, nearly ever since she came to this city to
live.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, for thirty years I was faithful to my trust. Had any one told me
then that to-day I should be a thief, I would have felled him to the
ground and spurned him with my foot. Ten years ago a dear friend of mine
died, leaving his only child in my care, together with a property of
fifty thousand dollars. I invested it in what I believed to be a sound
concern, but in less than a year it failed, and my friend’s child was
penniless.”
“How sorry I am,” was Brownie’s simple comment, and deeply impressed in
the lawyer’s tale.
He smiled bitterly, but clasping her hand more firmly, went on:
“I then did something which was not right, but which I thought must
succeed, and everything would be all right again. I felt that I was
entirely to blame for the loss of my ward’s property, and that I was in
duty bound to replace it. I had no ready funds of my own, but I knew
that your aunt, with her vast wealth, would not miss fifty thousand
dollars for a little while, and I resolved to use it—speculate in what
promised to be a very successful operation, hoping thus to win back a
portion at least of what I had lost for my ward. I staked it and lost!”
“Ah!” ejaculated the clergyman, with a sorrowful shake of the head.
“Whew!” whistled the doctor.
“Horrid man!” breathed Miss Huntington, under her breath.
But Brownie only nestled a step nearer the poor man’s side.
“Driven desperate by this unfortunate circumstance,” he went on, with a
deep sigh, “I grew reckless, and invested a hundred thousand more of
Miss Douglas’ money, but again I lost. Then a bank where I had deposited
a very large amount of her funds suddenly suspended payment; but hoping
that all would come out right by and by, I kept all knowledge of the
difficulty from her. You know that the old lady loved the good things of
this life, and was not at all careful of the dollars; and she need not
have been, had I been faithful. But I continued to speculate with what
ready money I could get hold of, and, with her annual expenditure, her
thousands have melted into hundreds; and to-day, when she thought you
would inherit at least a million, I have to tell you, that if I pay the
debts and the legacies to the servants, there will not remain sufficient
to feed you for a year. I, who always prided myself upon my integrity
and my incorruptibility, have forfeited my character for probity and
honesty, and stand here before you a criminal worthy to suffer the
extent of the law.”
He paused for a moment, but as no one spoke, he continued:
“This is my confession; and now I surrender myself into your hands, to
do with me as you will. I had no right whatever to touch a penny of your
aunt’s money. I was deeply distressed at the loss of my ward’s property,
but I ought to have stopped there. However, having once failed of
success in using Miss Douglas’ money, I kept on, hoping, in my
desperation, that some favorable turn in fortune’s wheel would enable me
to replace everything.”
There was an awkward silence when the old man concluded.
Dr. Sargeant and Mr. Ashley were horror-struck at the revelation.
It had been deeply humiliating to the old and respected lawyer to make
this confession in the presence of these witnesses, but the time had
come when the state of affairs could no longer be concealed. The
property was all gone, and Miss Douglas’ death necessitated a settlement
of some kind, and it would have to come out that her niece and reputed
heiress was penniless. The house and everything would have to be sold to
pay the outstanding debts, and she who had been cradled in the lap of
luxury from her earliest infancy, must now go forth into the cold world,
to buffet with its storms and bitterness alone.
Brownie’s face was very grave as he concluded, and all but the lawyer
were watching her anxiously, to see how she would bear the news.
She began already to realize the care that had thus suddenly fallen upon
her. She knew that henceforth she must work with her hands for the bread
which she ate; and during the lawyer’s story she had changed from the
gay and light-hearted girl to the grave and thoughtful woman. But still
her first thought was for others.
“I am so glad auntie did not know of this be—before she died,” she said,
her lips quivering as she uttered those last words.
Mr. Conrad looked up with an expression of bewilderment.
“It would have made her so unhappy, you know, on my account,” Brownie
explained.
“What will you do with me?” he asked, wearily.
“What will I do with you, Mr. Conrad? I do not think I clearly
understand what you mean,” she answered, with a troubled expression on
her sweet face.
“You know that the law takes care of people who do as I have done. The
crime of embezzlement is no light one.”
“Oh, dear Mr. Conrad, do not speak so! You meant to commit no crime; you
only wished to right some one else’s wrong. It was not, perhaps, just
the right thing to do without auntie’s knowledge, but I can do nothing
with you only——”
“Only?” the lawyer asked, raising his haggard face, and eagerly reading
the lovely flushed one at his side.
“Only to be very, very sorry for you, my friend,” she said, softly, and
with a little quivering smile.
Mr. Conrad looked upon her as if she had been an angel—wonder,
reverence, awe, all expressed upon his countenance. Then, with a deep
groan, the strong man bowed his head and wept the bitterest tears he had
ever shed in his life.
He could have borne to hear the felon’s doom pronounced upon him with
the face of a Stoic; but this sublime pity and forgiveness caused him to
forget his manhood, and made a child of him.