THE ELEGANT YOUNG LADY.
Leo still slept at the house in Phillimore Court, though he took his
meals in Gridley Street. It was necessary for him to go two or three
times a day to his shop to look after his stock of mice, rabbits,
pigeons, and guinea pigs, in which he still carried on a tolerably
lucrative commerce in supplying his old friends and customers. Every
moment of his time was occupied from six o'clock in the morning until
ten o'clock at night. He did everything "upon honor," and he carried
this rule into his lessons as well as his mercantile speculations. What
he learned he really learned, and never left the subject till he had
fully mastered it.
Though he had been absent from school over two months, he stood so well
in his class, that, with the severe exertion he made, he was able to
regain the position he lost. As soon as his father began to improve in
health, and there was a prospect that Leo might again take his place in
school, he devoted himself to his studies, and followed up his
geography, history, and arithmetic with a zeal which promised the best
results. He called upon the master, and received directions for the
conduct of his course. There are always plenty of good people to help
those who are willing to help themselves, and Leo had all the friends
he needed.
Everything was going on well with Leo, even after the sudden
disappearance of Andre and Maggie, whom, no doubt, he greatly missed in
their absence. If he knew anything about the reason for their abrupt
departure, he kept his own counsel, especially in the presence of Fitz
Wittleworth, who, since he had discovered that "_his_ witness" had been
tampered with, had become the tormentor of the young mechanic. Fitz
placed himself at the corner of Gridley Street almost every day, intent
upon worming something out of Leo. The latter was too busy to waste any
time on such a fellow as Mr. Wittleworth, and used to avoid him, as far
as he could, by taking a round-about way to his boarding-house. But
sometimes Fitz blundered upon his victim.
"I want to see you, Leo," said he one day, when he had by a happy
scheme outflanked him.
"I'm in a hurry, Fitz; I can't stop now. My mice haven't had their
dinner yet," replied Leo, uneasily.
"They won't starve just yet. Hold on! I've got something for you,"
persisted Fitz, when the victim began to move on.
"I don't want anything."
"Did you know your father had got himself into a scrape?"
"No, I didn't," answered Leo, who was interested in this intelligence.
"He has; and he'll have to answer to the court for clearing out. I
suppose you never read law, and don't know anything about the
subordination of witnesses. I'll tell you."
"I can't stay to hear it now," replied Leo, laughing, for he knew the
difference between "subordination" and "subornation."
"I want to talk with you about half an hour some time."
"What about?"
"About your father. Checkynshaw has bought him up."
"What do you mean by 'bought him up'?" demanded Leo, indignantly.
"I mean that Checkynshaw has paid him to keep out of the way in our
great case of Wittleworth versus Checkynshaw," added Fitz.
"I say he hasn't."
"Hasn't he cleared out?"
"What if he has? He's coming back again."
"Don't tell me! I know something about law."
"I won't tell you, and you needn't tell me. If you'll keep your side of
the street, I'll keep mine. If you mean to tell me that Andre Maggimore
has done anything wrong, or means to do anything wrong, you don't know
the man."
"I say he has. He was summoned as a witness for our side, and he has
sold out to the enemy."
"He hasn't done anything of the sort."
"What has he gone to France for, then?"
"That's his business, not yours."
"Yes, it is my business; I manage our suit, and you had better tell me
all you know about it."
"I guess not! In the first place, I don't know much about it; and in
the second, if I did, I wouldn't tell you."
"If Andre Maggimore commits perjury--"
"That will do, Fitz Wittleworth. I don't want to quarrel with you, and
I don't mean to do so; but you can't talk like that to me without
getting a broken head. So you can't talk to me at all. If you speak to
me again, I won't answer you."
Leo turned abruptly from Fitz, bolted into a run, and did not slacken
his pace till he reached the house. He was tempted to pitch into Fitz;
his fists had involuntarily closed; and he felt that if he listened any
longer, he should not be able to control his wrath. Leo stuck to his
text, and when Fitz attempted to speak to him, he dodged him as though
he had been an unclean beast. Of course Leo knew why his father and his
sister had gone away; but he did not intend to give the Wittleworths
the benefit of his knowledge. He had an occasional letter from Maggie,
and about a week before the exhibition, he received one informing him
that she and her father would sail for home in the next steamer, and
expected to be present at the exhibition.
The great day of the school year arrived. The examination for medals
had taken place, and Leo confidently expected this crowning distinction
of his school life, though no one could know who were to be the happy
recipients of the medals until their names were called on the great
day. There was only one damper upon his enthusiasm as the eventful
occasion dawned upon him. The steamer bearing Andre and Maggie had been
expected the day before, but she had not arrived; and Leo felt that
half his pleasure would be lost because they were not present to
witness his triumph.
The exercises of the exhibition proceeded, and Leo spoke his piece, and
carried through his part in the original dialogue to the entire
satisfaction of all interested. The silver pitcher had been presented
to the "beloved teacher," and the chairman of the district committee
had risen to deliver the medal speech, when the crowd at the doors was
opened by the gentlemanly policeman in attendance to allow the passage
of some favored guests. Leo was in a flutter of excitement; for,
shortly after the exercises began, the school-house being located near
the bay, he had heard the two guns which announced the arrival of an
English steamer, in those blissful days when Boston was favored by the
Cunard line.
Through the crowd came Mr. Checkynshaw, followed by a young lady of
remarkable beauty, who was most elegantly dressed; and behind her came
Andre Maggimore. They were provided with seats, and the exercises
proceeded. Everybody seemed to pay more attention to the beautiful
young lady than to the excellent chairman, whose _forte_ certainly was
not speech-making. The fashion of her dress was a season ahead of the
ideas of other ladies present, and was of the most costly material.
Some of the people thought they had seen her before, but they were not
quite sure. Leo was certain that he had seen her before, and he found
it hard work to keep his seat during the solemn and impressive remarks
of the worthy chairman of the district committee; and it was only when
he began to call the names of the successful candidates for the medal
that the whole attention of the aspirant was given to him.
"Leopold Maggimore," called the chairman for the sixth name, which
would have been the first if Leo had not been absent so long.
There was some applause bestowed upon each of the recipients; but that
which greeted Leo's name was warm and enthusiastic. Andre smiled, and
the beautiful young lady in the elegant dress smiled; and even Mr.
Checkynshaw was so far in sympathy with the occasion that he smiled
too, when the blue ribbon was put upon the neck of Leo. After that, the
time hung heavy upon all our characters who were present, especially as
the distinguished gentlemen who had been invited to make a "few remarks"
were unusually long-winded and prosy.
The exhibition was finished at last, and the elegant young lady flew to
the seat of Leo, the silk fluttering like a summer tempest, grasped
both his hands, and actually kissed him before the assembled multitude.
There were several scores of nice young men present, who envied Leo now
more than when the blue ribbon was placed on his neck; and it ought to
be added that Leo bore his martyrdom with remarkable fortitude. Andre
then grasped his hand, and the tears stole down his pale face. Even Mr.
Checkynshaw condescended to take the hand of the young man, and
congratulate him upon the distinction he had won.
The party left the school-house. There was a carriage waiting at the
door for the banker, which bore them to Pemberton Square. It is not of
much consequence what happened there, and we need only say that the
elegant young lady was rather sad, and seemed to cling more to Andre
and Leo than to the lofty man who entertained them, or to his family.
The great case of Wittleworth _vs._ Checkynshaw had been twice
postponed during the absence of the defendant, and it was called for
the fourth time only a few days after his return. All the parties were
present this time. Mr. Fitz Wittleworth did not seem quite as confident
as before. There were indications of a "gigantic conspiracy," as he
expressed it, against the majesty of justice as represented by the
Wittleworths. It was alleged that the defendant had his daughter in
court--and a beautiful young lady she was; but Mr. Wittleworth insisted
that this person--elegant and richly dressed as she appeared--was an
impostor, employed to personate the deceased child of his powerful
rival, and thus enable him to retain the block of stores and the back
rents.
Mrs. Checkynshaw and Elinora were in court; so were Andre and Leo. Mr.
Choate was there, and Mr. Wittleworth cast a reproachful glance at him;
but it was fortunate for the distinguished orator that he did not know
how much he had fallen in the estimation of one "who had formerly been
in the office with him."
Certain dry formalities were solemnly passed through; the counsel for
the plaintiff made a statement, during which he read extracts from the
will of Mr. Osborne. It was plain enough to everybody that the block of
stores belonged to Mrs. Wittleworth, unless the trustee and defendant
could produce his daughter. She was produced; but Fitz was still
hopeful. The elegant young lady was no other than Miss Maggie
Maggimore. It was evident enough to him that she had been engaged to
play the part in the farce. Mrs. Checkynshaw was the first witness
called. She told the whole story about the cholera in Paris; that
Marguerite, her husband's daughter, had the disease first, and was
reported to have died with it; that she was taken with the terrible
malady shortly afterwards; and that the child wore, at the time she was
taken to the hospital, a gold locket, which contained portraits of her
father and mother, and a lock of the hair of each. This locket was
handed to her, and she identified it.
Fitz began to be alarmed.
Andre was called next. He had been employed as an interpreter in the
hospital in the Rue Lacepede. He had frequently seen the child whose
name was entered on the books of the establishment as Marguerite
Poulebah. He was informed that her parents had died, and that she had
no friends to whom she could be sent. He became very much interested in
her, and when something was said about taking her to an orphan asylum,
he had invited her to go home with him. He kept her there a few days,
and became so much attached to her that he was not willing to give her
up. His landlady took care of her till he embarked for America, where
he soon found employment as a barber and had ever since retained her.
He identified the locket as the one worn by the child when he took her
from the hospital. He confessed that he had done wrong in not using
greater efforts to find the friends of the child; but they were so much
attached to each other that a separation would have been insupportable
to either.
Andre finished his direct statement, and the counsel for the plaintiff
immediately opened upon him so fiercely that Fitz began to feel that
the day was not wholly lost.