easy work, merely giving away what he did not care for, and should not
miss. But now that the bulk of his property, real and personal, was to
come in question, he groaned inwardly at the necessity of bequeathing
it to any one. Did it not represent all the hopes, energies, labors
and results of his whole life? What a naked, shivering, miserable soul
he would be without it! He had a feeling that he should never be quite
certain of his own identity, in eternity, without the houses and the
lands, the negroes and the gold, for which he had lived in time.
"Well!" said Dr. Remy, by way of reminding him that he was still
waiting.
The Major frowned; nevertheless, after another moment, he resumed his
dictation.
"I give and bequeath," said he, slowly, "my house known as Bergan Hall,
with all the lands thereto pertaining, including the rice-plantation
known as 'Number Two;' also my three houses in the town of Berganton;
also my block in the city of Savannah; also my negroes, horses, mills,
and plantation implements; also, my household furniture and other
personal property, including all bonds, mortgages, moneys, and all
other property whereof I die possessed, to-----"
Doctor Remy had written down the items of this comprehensive inventory
with a delight that he could scarcely keep from shining out in his
face; and he now held his pen over the paper, while the Major paused,
in real enjoyment of so timely an opportunity for pleasurable
recapitulation and anticipation. The pause being a long one, however,
he finally raised his eyes to the rugged features opposite, and saw
that they were tremulous with emotion. Words, too, soon began to break
from the Major's lips, according to the habit which had grown upon him
in his solitude;--he had forgotten for the time, that he was not alone.
"He is the natural heir, as Maumer Rue insists," he muttered, "and the
only one justified by the old family precedents. But," he went on, as
Dr. Remy began to tremble, vicariously, for Astra's prospects, "he left
me without so much as saying 'good bye;' he did just what he knew I was
most bitterly opposed to; and he has never come near me since. No, he
shall not have it!--he never shall have it, in spite of Maumer Rue's
prophecies--I'll take care of that!"
And he began to repeat slowly, "bonds, mortgages, moneys, and all other
property whereof I die possessed, to--to--"
Again he paused.
"Why can't he say 'to Astra Lyte,' and done with it?" thought Dr. Remy,
impatiently, as he suddenly checked his pen in the midst of the first
curve of the letter A.
The Major made another effort;--"To my niece, Carice Bergan," he
concluded, with a sigh.
Doctor Remy's face fell so suddenly, that it attracted the Major's
attention.
"Well! what is the matter now?" he demanded, sharply.
Doctor Remy could not immediately answer. His mind was in a whirl of
confusion, disappointment, and anxiety. Mechanically, he put his hand
to his brow; and the gesture helped him to a plausible explanation.
"A sudden pain," said he, in a low, shaken voice; "I have felt it
several times of late. Wait a minute, it will soon be over."
And covering his eyes with his hands, he addressed himself at once to
the task of answering the difficult question;--
What is to be done now?
It was well for him that he was accustomed to think rapidly and
clearly, in the immediate presence of danger, that he was tenacious of
purpose too, and that his instinct, in the midst of overthrow and ruin,
was to commence at once to rebuild. Yet, for some moments, not an
available suggestion presented itself, not a shadow of help for the
exigency that had so unexpectedly arisen.
"Then, suddenly, a thought came to him, and with it, a gleam of hope.
He took his hands from his eyes, and looked the Major gravely in the
face.
"Before we go any farther," said he, "I feel bound in honor to make a
confession. If I had supposed that writing your will was going to put
me in such an awkward position, I should certainly have desired you to
look elsewhere for a lawyer. However, it cannot be helped now. Well,
the truth is"--he stopped for a moment, as if to overcome an excessive
reluctance,--"the truth is, I have long admired your niece; and now, as
my practice is steadily increasing, and I think I could take care of a
wife, I had made up my mind to ask permission to pay her my addresses."
Major Bergan uttered a prolonged "Whew!" and settled himself back in
his chair. "That alters the case, certainly," said he, after a brief
consideration of this new phase of the matter.
"I am glad to hear it," exclaimed Dr. Remy, eagerly. "Pray--if it is
not too selfish in me to ask it--pray give Bergan Hall to the next most
eligible claimant, and leave me Miss Carice."
The Major raised his eyebrows, and leaning forward, fixed his eyes on
Doctor Remy, as if he had found a new and interesting subject of study.
"Do you mean to say," he asked, gravely, "that you would rather have
Carice without Bergan Hall than with it?"
"Decidedly," replied Doctor Remy. "I prefer an equal match to an
unequal one. I prefer to be credited with honorable motives, rather
than mercenary ones. I don't want to be a pensioner on my wife's
bounty. It is doubtful if I could ever make up my mind to address the
heiress of Bergan Hall. And thus, you see, if you persist in making
Miss Bergan your legatee, you are playing the mischief with my hopes
and plans."
Major Bergan continued to stare, thoughtfully, at the doctor. He was
beginning rather to like this disinterested suitor.
"Have you any reason to think that Carice favors you?" he asked,
finally.
Doctor Remy hesitated. "I really don't know how to answer that
question. If I should say 'yes,' in view of the 'trifles light as
air,' from which I have ventured to draw some slight encouragement, I
should seem, even to myself, to be a conceited ass; and yet, if you
would only be good enough not to throw Bergan Hall into the scale
against me, I should not be absolutely without hope."
Major Bergan gave a short laugh. "Who will know," he asked, "that
Carice is to have Bergan Hall? I expect you to keep my counsel in this
matter. That is why I asked you to do the business. I had an idea
that you were closer-mouthed, both by nature and training, than those
lawyers in Berganton."
"_I_ shall know it," replied Doctor Remy, virtuously, answering the
Major's question, and taking no notice of the compliment which followed
it. "And I shall know, too, that the heiress of Bergan Hall, if she
were aware of her position, might reasonably expect to find a better
match than a mere country physician."
"On my soul," exclaimed the Major, heartily, "I think she might 'go
farther and fare worse!' Go on, doctor and win her, if you can;--you
have my best wishes for your success. Leave Bergan Hall out of the
question; indeed, it may never come into it, after all. Carice may
refuse you----"
("Little doubt of that," thought the doctor.)
"I may alter my will a dozen times, or make a new one,--"
("You will have to be in a hurry, if you do," thought the doctor again,
grimly.)
"At any rate, I expect you to frame that one so that Carice's husband,
whoever he may be, can have no control whatever over the property. It
is to be hers, and her children's, only. So scribble away there, at
your best pace, or Proverb Dick will be here before we get through."
"But your brother Godfrey,"--began Doctor Remy, in despair, racking his
brains for some consideration that would be likely to shake the Major's
purpose.
"My brother Godfrey," interrupted Major Bergan, sternly, "has nothing
to do with this matter. I don't give the property to him, but to
Carice. Perhaps, on the whole, I had better just give her a
life-interest in it, and then have it go to her eldest son, who shall
take the name of Bergan, and be christened Harry. Yes, that will be
the better way. Write it down so."
"But"--began Doctor Remy again.
"Save your 'buts,' until we get through," broke in Major Bergan,
sharply. "I tell you, Carice shall have the place. If you don't want
her with it, you can let her alone. And if you can't, or won't, write
my will to suit me, I'll scud for some one who can and will."
This threat effectually silenced Doctor Remy. It was essential that
the matter should not be taken out of his hands, till he had satisfied
himself that it could in nowise be turned to his account. "If it comes
to the worst," said he to himself, "it is something to have the
document in my own handwriting. That gives me a better chance to
furnish a substitute, at need."
With the rigid self-control that always characterized him, therefore,
he now put aside, as far as might be, his own hopes and plans, and set
himself diligently to the work of completing the will, in accordance
with the Major's instructions, and to his entire satisfaction. He did
not even move a muscle when, in due time, the Major dictated a
paragraph to the effect that if Carice should not survive him, or
should die without issue, the estate should fall to a distant cousin,
now in Europe, whose sole claim to his consideration appeared to be
that he bore the family name. The doctor was proof against any further
shocks, this evening. Fate had done her worst for him, in forcing him
to write "Carice Bergan," where he had confidently expected to write
"Astra Lyte," and to find his account in so doing.
At the end of an hour, three closely written sheets lay upon the table,
ready for the signatures of the witnesses, whenever they should appear;
and the Major, drawing a long breath of relief, to see his lugubrious
business so nearly finished, applied himself to the brandy bottle for
appropriate refreshment. Doctor Remy sat silent, abstractedly toying
with the pen that had been making such havoc with his plans.
Suddenly he raised his eyes to Major Bergan's face with the question;--
"How did that medicine suit you?"
"Admirably," replied the Major. "I have had one attack since you were
here,--a tolerably severe one, too,--but the second powder acted like a
charm."
"The second powder!" thought the doctor. "I am afraid that I gave him
too many! At that rate, if chance favors him, he may hold on for a
year, or more."
He was opening his lips for another remark, when the door shook under a
vigorous rap; and scarce waiting for the Major's invitation, Dick
Causton entered.
III.
BUILDING ANEW.
The new comer opened his eyes wide at sight of Doctor Remy, and the
table littered with writing materials; and looked with evident
curiosity at the closely written sheets of the will, the character of
which he seemed at once to discover or divine.
"I see," said he, sententiously, nodding his head,--"'Our last garment
is made without pockets.'"
Major Bergan shivered as if he had felt a chill breath from the mouth
of a tomb. It was hard to be so often reminded that he and his
possessions must soon part, with small prospect of meeting again.
"If you must quote proverbs, Dick," he exclaimed peevishly, "pray don't
quote such cold-blooded ones as that!"
"How could I help it, when 'it came to my hand like the bow o' a pint
stoup?'" answered Dick Causton coolly, with his eyes fixed hungrily on
the Major's brandy bottle.
The hint was successful. Bottle and glass were immediately placed
within his reach, and he made haste to warm and quicken his age-frosted
blood with a deep draught of the potent liquor. It was both strange
and sad to see how his eye brightened, his face grew more animated, his
figure became more erect, his whole frame seemed to gather vigor and
energy, under its influence, while his air became, if possible, more
mean and slouching than before. It was as if he felt conscious
himself, and knew that any beholder would be sure to discover, that his
proper strength and manhood had long since died out of him, and he was
now drawing unworthy breath and life from a source of which he was
thoroughly ashamed, though unable to do without it.
Major Bergan, meanwhile, briefly explained why he had sent for him,
adding, in a tone that was meant to be courteous, but narrowly escaped
condescension;--
"I knew that you would be glad to do a favor to an old friend like me,
Dick."
"Certainly," replied Richard Causton, heartily; "especially as I
suspect that I shall also be doing a favor to my young friend, Mr.
Arling. 'He that loves the tree, loves the branch,' you know."
Major Bergan frowned. "I don't see what my nephew has to do with it,"
said he, surlily.
Dick Causton gave him a look of surprise. "_De vrucht valt niet ver
van den stam_," said he, shaking his head. "That is to say, The fruit
falls near the stem. It isn't nature for a man to leave his property
away from his own blood. It isn't right, either, in my opinion."
"I am not going to leave mine away from my blood," replied Major
Bergan, austerely; "though, if I were, I do not see that it is
anybody's affair but my own."
"Nor I either," rejoined Dick Causton, coolly, "unless your dead
ancestors should imagine it to be theirs. _Os demos á os suyos
quieren_,--The devils are fond of their own,--and so, doubtless, are
the saints, if any such are to be found in your pedigree. It is
reasonable to suppose that they would all prefer to see their earthly
possessions go down in the channel marked out by nature. Anyway, I'm
right glad to know that Mr. Arling is to have his rights, some day,
fine fellow that he is! I've always had a kindness for him, ever since
I first gave him a lift, on his way to you."
Major Bergan looked very grim. "Yes, Mr. Arling will have his rights,"
said he, with stern emphasis,--"I've seen to that."
Dick Causton glanced from the Major's face to the will, with an
instinctive feeling that all was not right, but could make nothing of
either. The one was dark and impenetrable; the other was upside down,
from his point of view. Apparently, nothing invited attack but the
brandy bottle. That, he was glad to see, was not yet empty.
"I am wasting words," said he, shrugging his shoulders. "_A chose
faite conseil pris_. 'Advice after action is like medicine after
death'--or brandy after one has ceased to be thirsty."
"Take another glass," said Major Bergan.
Dick obeyed with alacrity. The dram was scarcely swallowed, ere a tap
at the door announced the arrival of the overseer from "Number Two,"--a
tall, lank, taciturn Texan, whom the Major had recently taken into his
employ, as a short cut to that avoidance of the rice fields which
Doctor Remy had recommended.
The ceremonies of signing and sealing the will immediately followed.
Dick Causton was greatly disappointed that the document was not read in
his hearing, as he had expected.
"Never buy a pig in a poke, nor sign a paper without reading it," said
he, as he took the pen into his hand. "How am I to tell what will I
really signed, if I know nothing of the contents? However, it's your
risk, not mine," he added, hastily, seeing that Major Bergan was
beginning to look impatient. And, forthwith, he bent his energies to
the task of writing his name in a large, angular, and very tremulous
hand; and then shook his head dubiously over the result.
"It looks like nothing that ever I wrote before," he remarked, as he
laid down the pen. "But _Hund er hund om han er aldrig saa broget_,--A
dog, is a dog whatever be his color,--and so, a signature must be a
signature though it wiggle across the paper like a tipsy eel. Perhaps
I shall know it by that token, when I see it again. But I can't
promise."
"I shall know mine," observed the overseer, confidently, as he lifted
the pen.
Doctor Remy leaned forward with sudden interest. The name was written
in commonplace fashion enough, but it was finished with an odd,
complicated flourish.
"Do you always sign your name in that way?" he asked.
"Always."
"It looks very difficult; yet you seemed to do it with much ease. Let
me see the process again." And he pushed a piece of paper over to the
man, who, gratified to find his skill so heartily appreciated, scrawled
it all over with his sign-manual, in wearisome repetition. The paper
was then passed from one to another, for a brief examination, and was
finally left in the hands of Doctor Remy; who first began absently to
roll it round his fingers, and ended by tearing it in three or four
pieces, in a fit of apparent abstraction. Nobody noticed that one of
these found its way into his pocket as a thing of possible utility, in
the future.
He then rose. "I am sorry to be obliged to go so soon," said he,
courteously, "but a physician's time is not his own. Good evening,
Major Bergan, I am always at your service, and in any capacity. Good
evening, Mr. Causton, doubtless, we shall meet again."
Dick glanced at the brandy bottle, and, seeing that it was empty, was
taken with a sudden fancy for the doctor's society.
"I'll walk along with you, doctor, at least as far as our road is one,"
said he, rising. "Good company makes short miles."
"I came in the saddle," answered Doctor Remy, "but we can be companions
as far as the gate, if you like."
Nevertheless, the pair did not separate at the gate. Their
conversation had become too interesting, apparently, to both; and Dick
Causton continued to walk on by the side of the doctor's horse.
It was late when he reached his cabin, that night. Very suggestively,
too, he reeled across the threshold, and, missing the bed, deposited
himself heavily on the floor.
"_Tidt meder man ei did som man vil skyde_, A man does not always aim
at what he means to hit,"--he muttered, resignedly, merely changing his
position for a more comfortable one, and dozing off to sleep.
Somewhere, on the way--or out of it--apparently, he had found a
supplementary brandy bottle, and had not left it until it was as empty
as the Major's.
It was late, too, when Doctor Remy laid his head on his pillow, that
night. And, perhaps, in all Berganton, there was no wearier nor sadder
man than he. One apparently well-constructed plan had just gone to
pieces in his hands, without note of warning. Another was now to be
built up out of the fragments, pitilessly rejecting whatever had been
an element of weakness in the first. Already, its outline had begun to
shape itself dimly against his mental horizon. Yet he did not allow
himself to linger upon it to-night. With the rigid self-control which
he habitually exercised, he put aside disappointment, care, and hope,
and soon slept as soundly as if no anxiety rested on his mind, no stain
on his conscience.
He was early astir. With the morning light came quickness and
clearness of thought. His scheme began to look more distinct and
feasible. By way of getting it in hand at once, he tapped lightly at
the door of Astra's studio.
He was somewhat surprised to find her before an easel, palette and
brushes in hand. She smiled and blushed at his approach.
"I know what you would say," she began, apologetically,--"'A Jack at
all trades,' _et caetera_, but I really wanted color for _this_
subject." She pointed to her canvas. "Do you recognize it?"
"I can see that those are Miss Bergan's eyes," replied Doctor
Remy;--"all else is delightfully vague and suggestive."
"And what eyes they are!" exclaimed Astra, admiringly,---not without a
pleasant perception, too, that she had succeeded wonderfully well in
putting them on canvas.
Doctor Remy did not answer immediately. He was regarding the portrait
with a gravity that Astra could not understand,--unless, indeed, his
thoughts were elsewhere. Nevertheless, when he spoke, it was
sufficiently to the point.
"Yes, they are very fine eyes," said he. "And Miss Bergan is
altogether very pretty,--in an uncommon style, too. It is surprising
that she has remained heartfree so long."
Astra looked at him with soft, smiling, amused eyes. "Heartfree! As
much as I am," said she.
Doctor Remy gave her a questioning look.
"I am not going to tell you anything about it," said she, laughingly.
"Use your eyes, sometimes, in watching your neighbors, as I do."
"Who _is_ my neighbor?" asked Doctor Remy, smiling.
"The proper question!" laughed Astra. "In this case, you need not
journey beyond this roof, to find him."
Doctor Remy's eyes lit with a sudden, strange gleam. "Do you _know_ it
is so?" he asked, quickly.
"Ho, I cannot quite say that;--I doubt if she knows it herself yet.
But I believe it, all the same."
Doctor Remy watched her absently for some moments, then made a few
curt, critical remarks about her work, bade her a cool good morning,
and withdrew.
Astra looked after him, with a troubled, wondering expression.
"What has come over him?" she asked herself. "How have I offended him?
Or was it only my fancy that he seemed so cold and strange?"
Before Doctor Remy began his professional rounds, that morning, he had
sketched, in outline, the main features of a new plan for the
acquisition of Bergan Hall. The minor details he wisely left to the
suggestions of time and circumstance.
One of these proved to be very close at hand. As he drove mechanically
through the principal street of Berganton, revolving various
probabilities and possibilities in his mind, and trying to make some
provision for each, he espied Miss Ferrars coming up the
sidewalk,--easily recognizable, at almost any distance, by her
peculiarly mincing and swaying gait. In all similar encounters with
the slightly faded maiden,--whom he shrewdly suspected of designs upon
his bachelor liberty,--it had been his wont to slide swiftly past, with
a low and deprecatory bow, suggestive of his deep regret that the
urgency of his haste denied him the pleasure of stopping to inquire
after her health. On this occasion, therefore, she was agreeably
surprised to see him rein his horse up to the sidewalk, with the
obvious intention of speaking to her. Perhaps her heart beat a little
more quickly, as she stopped to listen.
Apparently, however, he had nothing of more importance to communicate
than a commonplace enough observation about the heat of the weather,
and a friendly caution not to walk far in so fervid a sunshine as was
flooding the town with its golden waves. Then, he gathered up his
reins, as if to signify that his say was said, and he was ready to
proceed. Nevertheless, he lingered a moment longer, to add,
carelessly,--
"By the way, I ought to acknowledge that you were right, and I was
wrong, the other day. It is not the first time that man's reason has
had to admit the superior correctness, as well as quickness, of woman's
intuition."
Miss Ferrars looked both pleased and puzzled. "It is very good of you
to say so," she answered, simpering;--"but really, I can't think what
you allude to."
"When you called at my office, a few days ago," explained the doctor,
"you did me the honor to confide to me your impressions with regard to
my friends, Miss Lyte and Mr. Arling. I thought you were mistaken, and
told you so. It turns out, however, that the mistake was on my part,
not yours. I was really blind--not wilfully so, as you had the charity
to suppose. I mention the matter the more readily because it must soon
be patent to everybody. Good morning."
And without waiting for a reply, Doctor Remy courteously lifted his
hat, and went his way, with a curious smile on his lips.
"That last intimation ensures speed," said he to himself. "Miss
Ferrars will do her best to be beforehand with the news. Before
to-morrow morning, it will be known throughout the town. Then, I can
easily manage so that it shall reach the Major's ears, and--by the help
of my loving commentary--produce the desired effect. Astra must be
gotten out of the way, for the present, at least. So must Arling; last
night's business convinced me that he is more dangerous than I
imagined. The Major deceives himself, but he does not deceive me; his
bitterness towards his nephew is nothing more than piqued and smothered
affection,--affection undergoing fermentation, as it were, and certain
to work itself clear and sweet, in time. If Arling remains in the
neighborhood, the Major will soon be seizing upon some pretext for a
reconciliation. Failing of that, Miss Carice is certain to inherit his
estate; just because he wooed--and did not win--her mother, some
twenty-five or thirty years ago! No doubt, a marriage between the two
would suit him exactly, if he once got hold of the idea. Yes, Arling
must be gotten rid of. But how?"
He bent his brows moodily. Some expedient, apparently, soon suggested
itself to him, and was immediately rejected with a shake of the head.