THE FALSE HEIR.
In the suburbs of Chicago, perhaps a dozen miles from the great city,
stands a fine country house, in the midst of a fine natural park. From
the cupola which surmounts the roof can be seen in the distance the
waters of Lake Michigan, stretching for many miles from north to south
and from east to west, like a vast inland sea.
The level lawns, the greenhouses, the garden with rare plants and
flowers, show clearly that this is the abode of a rich man. My readers
will be specially interested to know that this is the luxurious and
stately home of Mr. Granville, whose son's fortunes we have been
following.
This, too, is the home of Mrs. Brent and Jonas, who, under false
representations, have gained a foothold in the home of the Western
millionaire.
Surely it is a great change for one brought up like Jonas to be the
recognized heir and supposed son of so rich a man! It is a change,
too, for his mother, who, though she dare not avow the relationship, is
permitted to share the luxury of her son. Mrs. Brent has for her own
use two of the best rooms in the mansion, and so far as money can bring
happiness, she has every right to consider herself happy.
Is she?
Not as happy as she anticipated. To begin with, she is always dreading
that some untoward circumstance will reveal the imposition she has
practiced upon Mr. Granville. In that case what can she expect but to be
ejected in disgrace from her luxurious home? To be sure, she will have
her husband's property left, but it would be a sad downfall and descent
in the social scale.
Besides, she finds cause for anxiety in Jonas, and the change which his
sudden and undeserved elevation has wrought in him. It requires a strong
mind to withstand the allurements and temptations of prosperity, and
Jonas is far from possessing a strong mind. He is, indeed, if I may
be allowed the expression, a vulgar little snob, utterly selfish, and
intent solely upon his own gratification. He has a love for drink,
and against the protests of his mother and the positive command of Mr.
Granville, indulges his taste whenever he thinks he can do so without
fear of detection. To the servants he makes himself very offensive by
assuming consequential airs and a lordly bearing, which excites their
hearty dislike.
He is making his way across the lawn at this moment. He is dressed in
clothes of the finest material and the most fashionable cut. A thick
gold chain is displayed across his waistcoat, attached to an expensive
gold watch, bought for him by his supposed father. He carries in his
hand a natty cane, and struts along with head aloft and nose in the air.
Two under-gardeners are at work upon a flowerbed as he passes.
“What time is it, Master Philip?” says one, a boy about a year older
than Jonas.
“My good boy,” said Jonas haughtily, “I don't carry a watch for your
benefit.”
The gardener bit his lip, and surveyed the heir with unequivocal
disgust.
“Very well,” he retorted; “I'll wait till a gentleman comes this way.”
A flush of anger was visible on the cheek of Jonas despite his freckles.
“Do you mean to say I'm not a gentleman!” he demanded angrily.
“You don't act like one,” returned Dan.
“You'd better not be impertinent to me!” exclaimed Jonas, his small gray
eyes flashing with indignation. “Take that back!”
“I won't, for it's true!” said Dan undauntedly.
“Take that, then!”
Jonas raised his cane and brought it down smartly on the young
gardener's shoulder.
He soon learned that he had acted imprudently. Dan dropped his rake,
sprang forward, and seizing the cane, wrenched it from the hands of the
young heir, after which he proceeded to break it across his knee.
“There's your cane!” he said contemptuously, as he threw the pieces on
the ground.
“What did you do that for?” demanded Jonas, outraged.
“Because you insulted me. That's why.”
“How can I insult you? You're only a poor working boy!”
“I wouldn't change places with you,” said Dan. “I'd like well enough to
be rich, but I wouldn't be willing to be as mean as you are.”
“You'll suffer for this!” said Jonas, his little bead-like eyes glowing
with anger. “I'll have you turned off this very day, or as soon as my
father get's home.”
“If he says I'm to go, I'll go!” said Dan. “He's a gentleman.”
Jonas made his way to his mother's room. She noticed his perturbed look.
“What's the matter, my dear boy?” she asked. “What's the matter, Jonas?”
“I wish you'd stop calling me your dear boy,” said Jonas angrily.
“I--I forget sometimes,” said Mrs. Brent, with a half-sigh.
“Then you ought not to forget. Do you want to spoil everything?”
“We are alone now, Jonas, and I cannot forget that I am your mother.”
“You'd better, if you know what's best for both of us,” said Jonas.
Mrs. Brent was far from being a kind-hearted woman. Indeed she was very
cold, but Jonas was her only son, and to him she was as much attached as
it was possible for her to be to any one. Formerly he had returned her
affection in a slight degree, but since he had figured as a rich man's
son and heir he had begun, incredible as it may appear, to look down
upon his own mother. She was not wholly ignorant of this change in his
feelings, and it made her unhappy. He was all she had to live for. But
for him she would not have stooped to take part in the conspiracy in
which she was now a participant. It seemed hard that her only son, for
whom she had sinned, should prove so ungrateful.
“My boy,” she said, “I would not on any account harm you or injure your
prospects, but when we are alone there can be no harm in my treating you
as my son.”
“It can't do any good,” grumbled Jonas, “and we might be overheard.”
“I will be cautious. You may be sure of that. But why do you look so
annoyed?”
“Why? Reason enough. That boy Dan, the under-gardener, has been impudent
to me.”
“He has?” said Mrs. Brent quickly. “What has he done?”
Jonas rehearsed the story. He found in his mother a sympathetic
listener.
“He is bold!” she said, compressing her lips.
“Yes, he is. When I told him I would have him turned off, he coolly
turned round and said that my father was a gentleman, and wouldn't send
him away. Ma, will you do me a favor?”
“What is it, Jonas?”
“Send him off before the governor gets home. You can make it all right
with him.”
Mrs. Brent hesitated.
“Mr. Granville might think I was taking a liberty.”
“Oh, you can make it all right with him. Say that he was very impudent
to me. After what has happened, if he stays he'll think he can treat me
just as he pleases.”
Again Mrs. Brent hesitated, but her own inclination prompted her to do
as her son desired.
“You may tell Dan to come here. I wish to speak to him,” she said.
Jonas went out and did the errand.
“Mrs. Brent wants to see me?” said Dan. “I have nothing to do with her.”
“You'd better come in if you know what's best for yourself.” said Jonas,
with an exultation he did not attempt to conceal.
“Oh, well, I have no objection to meeting Mrs. Brent,” said Dan. “I'll
go in.”
Mrs. Brent eyed the young gardener with cold animosity.
“You have been impudent to Master Philip,” she said. “Of course you
cannot remain any longer in his father's employment. Here are five
dollars--more than is due you. Take it, and leave the estate.”
“I won't take your money, Mrs. Brent,” said Dan independently, “and I
won't take my dismissal from any one but Mr. Granville himself.”
“Do you defy me, then?” said Mrs. Brent, with a firmer compression of
her lips.
“No, Mrs. Brent, I don't defy you, but you have nothing to do with me,
and I shall not take any orders or any dismissal from you.”
“Don't be impertinent to my----” burst forth from Jonas, and then he
stopped in confusion.
“To your--what?” asked Dan quickly.
“To my--nurse,” faltered Jonas.
Dan looked suspiciously from one to the other.
“There's something between those two,” he said to himself. “Something we
don't know of.”