MR. KENYON'S RESOLVE.
Mr. Kenyon felt that a sword was impending over his head which might at
any time fall and destroy him. Four years before he had married Mrs.
Conrad, a wealthy widow, whose acquaintance he had made at a Saratoga
boarding-house. Why Mrs. Conrad should have been willing to sacrifice
her independence for such a man is one of the mysteries which I do not
pretend to solve. I can only record the fact. Oliver was away at the
time, or his influence--for he never fancied Mr. Kenyon--might have
turned the scale against the marriage.
Mr. Kenyon professed to be wealthy, but his new wife never was able
to learn in what his property consisted or where it was located.
Shortly after marriage he tried to get the management of his wife's
property into his own hands; but she was a cautious woman,--a trait
she inherited from Scotch ancestry,--and, moreover, she was devotedly
attached to her son Oliver. She came to know Mr. Kenyon better after
she had assumed his name, and to distrust him more. Three months had
not passed when she bitterly repented having accepted him; but she
had taken a step which she could not retrace. She allowed Mr. Kenyon
a liberal sum for his personal expenses, and gave a home to his son
Roland, who was allowed every advantage which her own son enjoyed.
Further than this she was not willing to go, and Mr. Kenyon was, in
consequence, bitterly disappointed. He had supposed his wife to be of a
more yielding temperament.
So matters went on for three years. Then Mr. Kenyon all at once fancied
himself in very poor health, at any rate he so represented. He induced
a physician to recommend travelling, and to urge the importance of
his wife accompanying him. She fell into the trap, for it proved to
be a trap. The boys were left at home, at a boarding school, and Mr.
and Mrs. Kenyon set out on their travels. They sailed for Cuba, where
they remained two months; then they embarked for Charleston. In the
neighborhood of Charleston Mr. Kenyon was enabled at length to carry
out his nefarious design. He made the acquaintance of Dr. Fox, an
unprincipled keeper of a private insane asylum, and left Mrs. Kenyon in
his charge, under the name of Mrs. Crandall, with the strictest orders
that under no circumstances should she be permitted to leave the asylum.
Three months from the time of his departure he reappeared in
Brentville, wearing deep mourning--a widower. According to his account,
Mrs. Kenyon had been attacked by a malignant fever, and died in four
days. He also produced a will, made by his wife, conveying to him
absolutely her property, all and entire. The only reference to her son
Oliver was couched in these terms:
"I commend my dear son Oliver to my husband's charge, fully satisfied
that he will provide for him in all ways as I would myself, urging
him to do all in his power to promote my dear Oliver's welfare, and
prepare him for a creditable and useful position in the world."
But for this clause doubts would have been expressed as to the
genuineness of the will. As it was, it was generally supposed to be
authentic, but Mrs. Kenyon was severely criticised for reposing so much
confidence in her husband, and leaving Oliver wholly dependent upon him.
It was a great blow to Oliver,--his mother's death,--and the world
seemed very lonely to him. Besides, he could not fail to notice a
great difference in the manner of Mr. Kenyon and Roland toward him.
The former laid aside his velvety manner and assumed airs of command.
He felt secure in the position he had so wrongfully assumed, and hated
Oliver all the more because he knew how much he had wronged him.
Roland, too, was quick to understand the new state of things. He was
older than Oliver, and tried to exact deference from him on that
account. His father had promised to make him his chief heir, and both
had a tacit understanding that Oliver was to be treated as a poor
relation, with no money and no rights except such as they might be
graciously pleased to accord.
But Oliver did not fit well into this rôle. He was too spirited and too
independent to be browbeaten, and did not choose to flatter or fawn
upon his step-father though he did bear the purse.
The outbreak recorded in the first chapter would have come sooner had
Oliver been steadily at home. But he had spent some weeks in visiting
a cousin out of town, and was thus saved from a conflict with Roland.
Soon after he came home the scene already described took place.
Thus far things had gone to suit Mr. Kenyon. But the arrival of Dr.
Fox, and his extortionate demand, with the absolute certainty that it
would be followed at frequent intervals by others, was like a clap of
thunder in a clear sky. Henceforth peril was imminent. At any time his
wife might escape from her asylum, and appear on the scene to convict
him of conspiracy and falsehood. This would mean ruin. At any time Dr.
Fox, if his exactions were resisted, might reveal the whole plot, and
this, again, would be destruction. If not, he might be emboldened, by
the possession of a damaging secret, to the most exorbitant demands.
These thoughts worried Mr. Kenyon, and robbed him of sleep.
What should he, or could he do?
Two things seemed desirable--to get rid of Oliver, and to leave
Brentville for some place where neither Dr. Fox nor his injured wife
could seek him out.
The more he thought of this way out of the difficulty the better he
liked it. There was nothing to bind him to Brentville except the
possession of a handsome place. But this comprised in value not more
than a tenth part of his--that is, his wife's--possessions. Why
should he not let or, still better, sell it, and at once and forever
leave Brentville? There were no friendly ties to sunder. He was not
popular in the village, and he knew it. He was popularly regarded as
an interloper, who had no business with the property of which he had
usurped the charge. Neither was Roland liked, as much on his own
account as on his father's, for he strutted about the village, turning
up his nose at boys who would have been better off than himself in
a worldly point of view but for his father's lucky marriage, and
declining to engage in any game in which the first place was not
accorded to him.
It was very different with Oliver. He was born to be popular. Though
he possessed his share of pride, doubtless, he never showed it in an
offensive manner. No poor boy ever felt ill at ease in his company. He
was the life and soul of the playground, though he obtained an easy
pre-eminence in the schoolroom.
"Oliver is worth a dozen of Roland!" was the common remark. "What a
pity he was left dependent on his step-father!"
The last remark was often made to Oliver himself, but it was a subject
which he was not willing to discuss. It seemed to him that he would be
reproaching his mother, to find fault with the provision she had made
for his future.
It did seem to him, however, in his secret heart, that his mother had
been misled by too blind a confidence in his step-father.
"I wish she had left me only one-quarter of the property, and left it
independent of him," he thought more than once. "She couldn't know how
disagreeable it would be to me to be dependent upon him."
Oliver thought this, but he did not say it.
The thought came to him again as he walked home from the house of Frank
Dudley, twenty minutes after Roland had travelled over the same road.
"I wonder whether Mr. Kenyon will be up," he asked himself, as he rang
the bell. "If he is, I suppose I must make up my mind for another
volley. How different it was when my poor mother was alive!"
The door was opened by Maggie, the servant.
"Has Roland come home?" he asked.
"Yes, Mr. Oliver; he is in bed by this time."
"That's good!" thought Oliver. "Is Mr. Kenyon up?"
"No, Mr. Oliver. Did you wish to see him?"
"Oh, no," said Oliver, feeling relieved. "I only enquired out of
curiosity. You'd better shut up the house, Maggie."
"I was going to, Mr. Oliver."
Oliver took his lamp and went up slowly to bed. His room was just
opposite to Roland's, which adjoined the apartment occupied by his
father.
Remembering the scene of the previous day, Oliver expected it would
be renewed when he met his stepfather and Roland at breakfast in the
morning. Such, also, was the expectation of Roland. He wanted Oliver to
be humiliated, and fully anticipated that he would be.
What, then, was the surprise of the two boys when Mr. Kenyon displayed
an unusually gracious manner at table!