believe. I meant to tell Helen where the will was the day after I put it
there; but she was so young--it seemed dreadful to let her know how
cowardly her father was--how he feared her. Get it--get a good
lawyer--see she has her rights. I put it--no one could suspect where--I
put it--in--the--"
His breath failed him entirely, and he fixed his eyes on mine with an
agonized expression which makes me shiver whenever I think of it.
Suddenly his strange operation with that sill, of which I had not
thought for a long time, came into my mind, and I whispered, quickly:
"In the sill of the house?"
His expression instantly changed to a very happy one, and yet he looked
wonderstruck, which was natural enough.
"I saw you put it there," said I. "But," I continued, fearing the dying
man might suspect me of spying, and so fear he had mistaken my
character--"but I did not mean to--I was on the ground when you came
there that evening; and when I saw what you were doing, I could not move
for fear of disturbing you. I know where to find it, and I can swear you
put it there."
Markson closed his eyes, and never opened them again; and his last act,
before going out of the world, was to give my hand a squeeze, which,
under the circumstances, I could not help believing was an honest one.
As his hand relaxed, I felt that I had better give place to those who
had a right to it, so I quietly retired. Helen fell on her knees by his
bedside, but Mrs. Markson followed me out of the room.
"Mr. Raines," said she, with a very pleasant smile for a woman widowed
but a moment before, "what did my dear husband want?"
Now, I am an honest man and a Church-member--and I was one then, and
believed in truth and straightforwardness just as much as I do now--but,
somehow, when such a person speaks to me, I feel as if I were all of a
sudden a velvet-pawed cat myself. So I answered, with the straightest of
faces:
"Only to see to one of the sills of the house, ma'am, and he made me
solemnly swear to do it right away. He was an extraordinary man, ma'am,
to think of the good of his family up to the last moment."
"Ah, yes, dear man!" said she, with a sigh which her face plainly
showed came from nowhere deeper than her lips. "I hope it won't take
long, though," she continued, "for I can't endure noise in the house."
"Not more than an hour," I replied.
"Oh, I'm glad to hear it!" said she. "Perhaps, then, you might do it
while we are at the funeral, day after to-morrow? We will be gone at
least two hours."
"Easily, ma'am," said I, with my heart in my mouth at the idea of
managing the matter so soon, and having the papers for Helen as soon as,
in any sort of decency, Mrs. Markson would be likely to have the old
will read.
For the rest of the day I was so absent-minded to everything except this
business of Markson's that my acquaintances remarked that, considering
how long I had been gone, I didn't seem very glad to see any one.
Finally I went to old Judge Bardlow, who was as true as steel, and told
him the whole story, and he advised me to get the papers, and give them
to him to examine. So, on the day of the funeral, I entered the house
with a mallet and a mortizing chisel, and within fifteen minutes I had
in my pocket the package Markson had put in the sill years before, and
was hurrying to the judge's office.
He informed me that Mrs. Markson's lawyer, from the city, had called on
him that very morning, and invited him to be present at the reading of
the will in the afternoon, so he would be able to put things in proper
shape at once.
I was more nervous all that day than I ever was in waiting to hear from
an estimate. It was none of my business, to be sure; but I longed to see
Mrs. Markson punished for the mischief which I and every one else
believed she had done her husband; and I longed to see Helen, whom every
one liked, triumph over her stepmother, who, still young and gay, was
awfully jealous of Helen's beauty and general attractiveness.
Finally the long day wore away, and an hour or two after the carriages
returned from the funeral, the city lawyer called the judge, and, at the
judge's suggestion, they both called for me.
We found Mrs. Markson and Helen, with some of Mrs. Markson's
relatives--Helen had not one in the world--in the parlor, Mrs. Markson
looking extremely pretty in her neat-fitting suit of black, and Helen
looking extremely disconsolate.
The judge, in a courtly, old-fashioned way, but with a good deal of
heart for all that, expressed his sympathy for Helen, and I tried to say
a kind word to her myself. To be sure, it was all praise of her father,
whom I really respected very highly (aside from my having had my first
contract from him), but she was large-hearted enough to like it all the
better for that. I was still speaking to her when Mrs. Markson's lawyer
announced that he would read the last will and testament of the
deceased; so, when she sat down on a sofa, I took a seat beside her.
The document was very brief. He left Helen the interest of twenty
thousand dollars a year, the same to cease if she married; all the rest
of the property he left to his wife. As the lawyer concluded, Helen's
face put on an expression of wonder and grief, succeeded by one of utter
loneliness; while from Mrs. Markson's eyes there flashed an exultant
look that had so much of malignity in it that it made me understand the
nature of Satan a great deal more clearly than any sermon ever made me
do. Poor Helen tried to meet it with fearlessness and dignity, but she
seemed to feel as if even her father had abandoned her, and she dropped
her head and burst into tears.
I know it wasn't the thing to do before company, but I took her hand and
called her a poor girl, and begged her to keep a good heart, and trust
that her father loved her truly, and that her wrongs would be righted at
the proper time.
Being kind to my fellow-creatures is the biggest part of my religion,
for it's the part of religion I understand best; but even if I had been
a heathen, I couldn't have helped wishing well to a noble, handsome
woman like Helen Markson. I tried to speak in a very low tone, but Mrs.
Markson seemed to understand what I said, for she favored me with a look
more malevolent than any I had ever received from my most impecunious
debtor; the natural effect was to wake up all the old Adam there was in
me, and to make me long for what was coming.
"May I ask the date of that will?" asked Judge Bardlow.
"Certainly, sir," replied Mrs. Markson's lawyer, handing the document to
the judge. The judge looked at the date, handed the will back to the
lawyer, and drew from his pocket an envelope.
"Here is a will made by Mr. Markson," said the judge, "and dated three
months later."
Mrs. Markson started; her eyes flashed with a sort of fire which I hope
I may never see again, and she caught her lower lip up between her
teeth. The judge read the document as calmly as if it had been a mere
supervisor's notice, whereas it was different to the first will in every
respect, for it gave to Helen all of his property, of every description,
on condition that she paid to Mrs. Markson yearly the interest of twenty
thousand dollars until death or marriage, "this being the amount," as
the will said, "that she assured me would be amply sufficient for my
daughter under like circumstances."
As the judge ceased reading, and folded the document, Mrs. Markson
sprang at him as if she were a wild beast.
"Give it to me!" she screamed--hissed, rather; "'tis a vile, hateful
forgery!"
"Madame," said the judge, hastily putting the will in his pocket, and
taking off his glasses, "that is a matter which the law wisely provides
shall not be decided by interested parties. When I present it for
probate--"
"I'll _break_ it!" interrupted Mrs. Markson, glaring, as my family cat
does when a mouse is too quick for her.
Mrs. Markson's lawyer asked permission to look at the newer will, which
the judge granted. He looked carefully at the signature of Markson and
the witnesses, and returned the document with a sigh.
"Don't attempt it, madame--no use," said he. "I know all the signatures;
seen them a hundred times. I'm sorry, very--affects _my_ pocket some,
for it cuts some of my prospective fees, but--_that_ will can't be
broken."
Mrs. Markson turned, looked at Helen a second, and then dashed at her,
as if "to scatter, tear and slay," as the old funeral hymn says. Helen
stumbled and cowered a little toward me, seeing which I--how on earth I
came to do it I don't know--put my arm around her, and looked
indignantly at Mrs. Markson.
"You treacherous hussy!" said Mrs. Markson, stamping her foot--"you
scheming little minx! I could kill you! I could tear you to pieces! I
could drink your very heart's blood--I could--"
What else she could do she was prevented from telling, for she fell into
a fit, and was carried out rigid and foaming at the mouth.
I am generally sorry to see even wicked people suffer, but I wasn't a
bit sorry to see Mrs. Markson; for, while she was talking, poor Helen
trembled so violently that it seemed to me she would be scared to death
if her cruel stepmother talked much longer.
Two hours later Mrs. Markson, with all her relatives and personal
effects, left the house, and six months afterward Mrs. Markson entrapped
some other rich man into marrying her. She never tried to break
Marston's will.
As Helen was utterly ignorant of the existence of this new will until
she heard it read, the judge explained to her where it came from; and as
she was naturally anxious for all the particulars of its discovery, the
judge sent me to her to tell her the whole story. So I dressed myself
and drove down--for, though still under thirty, I was well off, and
drove my own span--and told her of my interview with her father, on his
deathbed, as well as of the scene on the night he hid the will.
As I told the latter part of the story a reverent, loving,
self-forgetful look came into her face, and made her seem to me like an
angel. As for myself, the recalling of the incident, now that I knew its
sequel, prevented my keeping my eyes dry. I felt a little ashamed of
myself and hurried away, but her look while I spoke of her father, and
her trembling form in my arms while Mrs. Markson raved at her, were
constantly in my mind, and muddled a great many important estimates.
They finally troubled me so that I drove down again and had a long and
serious talk with Helen.
What we said, though perfectly proper and sensible, might not be
interesting in print, so I omit it. I will say, however, that my
longing--when I first saw Helen as a little girl--for a daughter just
like her, has been fulfilled so exactly, that I have named her Helen
Markson Raines, after her mother; and if she is not as much comfort to
me as I supposed she would be, it is no fault of hers, but rather
because the love of her mother makes me, twenty years after the
incidents of this story occurred, so constantly happy, that I need the
affection of no one else.
[Illustration]
GRUMP'S PET.
On a certain day in November, 1850, there meandered into the new mining
camp of Painter Bar, State of California, an individual who was
instantly pronounced, all voices concurring, the ugliest man in the
camp. The adjective ugly was applied to the man's physiognomy alone; but
time soon gave the word, as applied to him, a far wider significance. In
fact, the word was not at all equal to the requirements made of it, and
this was probably what influenced the prefixing of numerous adjectives,
sacred and profane, to this little word of four letters.
The individual in question stated that he came from "no whar in
pu'tiklar," and the savage, furtive glance that shot from his hyena-like
eyes seemed to plainly indicate why the land of his origin was so
indefinitely located. A badly broken nose failed to soften the
expression of his eyes, a long, prominent, dull-red scar divided one of
his cheeks, his mustache was not heavy enough to hide a hideous
hare-lip; while a ragged beard, and a head of stiff, bristly red hair,
formed a setting which intensified rather than embellished the
peculiarities we have noted.
The first settlers, who seemed quite venerable and dignified, now that
the camp was nearly a fortnight old, were in the habit of extending
hospitality to all newcomers until these latter could build huts for
themselves; but no one hastened to invite this beauty to partake of
cracker, pork and lodging-place, and he finally betook himself to the
southerly side of a large rock, against which he placed a few boughs to
break the wind.
The morning after his arrival, certain men missed provisions, and the
ugly man was suspected; but so depressing, as one miner mildly put it,
was his aspect when even looked at inquiringly, that the bravest of the
boys found excuse for not asking questions of the suspected man.
"Ain't got no chum," suggested Bozen, an ex-sailor, one day, after the
crowd had done considerable staring at this unpleasant object; "ain't
got no chum, and's lonesome--needs cheerin' up." So Bozen
philanthropically staked a new claim near the stranger, apart from the
main party. The next morning found him back on his old claim, and
volunteering to every one the information that "stranger's a grump--a
reg'lar grump." From that time forth "Grump" was the only name by which
the man was known.
Time rolled on, and in the course of a month Painter Bar was mentioned
as an old camp. It had its mining rules, its saloon, blacksmith-shop,
and faro-bank, like the proudest camp on the Run, and one could find
there colonels, judges, doctors, and squires by the dozen, besides one
deacon and a dominie or two.
Still, the old inhabitants kept an open eye for newcomers, and displayed
an open-hearted friendliness from whose example certain Eastern cities
might profit.
But on one particular afternoon, the estimable reception committee were
put to their wit's end. They were enjoying their _otium cum dignitale_
on a rude bench in front of the saloon, when some one called attention
to an unfamiliar form which leaned against a stunted tree a few rods
off.
It was of a short, loose-jointed young man, who seemed so thin and lean,
that Black Tom ventured the opinion that "that feller had better hold
tight to the groun', ter keep from fallen' upards." His eyes were
colorless, his nose was enormous, his mouth hung wide open and then shut
with a twitch, as if its owner were eating flies, his chin seemed to
have been entirely forgotten, and his thin hair was in color somewhere
between sand and mud.
As he leaned against the tree he afforded a fine opportunity for the
study of acute and obtuse angles. His neck, shoulders, elbows, wrists,
back, knees and feet all described angles, and even the toes of his
shocking boots deflected from the horizontal in a most decided manner.
"Somebody ort to go say somethin' to him," said the colonel, who was
recognized as leader by the miners.
"Fact, colonel," replied one of the men; "but what's a feller to say to
sich a meanderin' bone-yard ez that? Might ask him, fur perliteness
sake, to take fust pick uv lots in a new buryin' ground; but then
Perkins died last week, yur know."
"Say _somethin'_, somebody," commanded the colonel, and as he spoke his
eyes alighted on Slim Sam, who obediently stepped out to greet the
newcomer.
"Mister," said Sam, producing a plug of tobacco, "hev a chaw?"
"I don't use tobacco," languidly replied the man, and his answer was so
unexpected that Sam precipitately retired.
Then Black Tom advanced, and pleasantly asked:
"What's yer fav'rit game, stranger?"
"Blind man's buff," replied the stranger.
"What's that?" inquired Tom, blushing with shame at being compelled to
display ignorance about games; "anything like going it blind at poker?"
"Poker?--I don't know what that is," replied the youth.
"He's from the country," said the colonel, compassionately, "an' hesn't
hed the right schoolin'. P'r'aps," continued the colonel, "he'd enjoy
the cockfight at the saloon to-night--these country boys are pretty well
up on roosters. Ask him, Tom."
Tom put the question, and the party, in deep disgust, heard the man
reply:
"No, thank you; I think it's cruel to make the poor birds hurt each
other."
"Look here," said the good-natured Bozen, "the poor lubber's all gone in
amidships--see how flat his breadbasket is. I say, messmate," continued
Bozen, with a roar, and a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder, "come and
splice the main-brace."
"No, thank you," answered the unreasonable stranger; "I don't drink."
The boys looked incredulously at each other, while the colonel arose and
paced the front of the saloon two or three times, looking greatly
puzzled. He finally stopped and said:
"The mizzable rat isn't fit to be out uv doors, an' needs takin' keer
ov. Come here, feller," called the colonel; "be kinder sociable--don't
stand there a gawpin' at us ez ef we wuz a menagerie."
The youth approached slowly, stared through the crowd, and finally
asked:
"Is there any one here from Pawkin Centre?"
No one responded.
"Some men went out to Californy from Pawkin Centre, and I didn't know
but some of 'em was here. I come from ther' myself--my name's Mix," the
youth continued..
"Meanin' no disrespect to your dad," said the colonel, "Mr. Mix, Senior,
ortn't to hev let you come out here--you ain't strong enough--you'll git
fever 'n ager 'fore you've washed dirt half a day."
"I ain't got no dad," replied the stranger; "leastways he ran away ten
years ago, an' mother had a powerful hard time since, a-bringin' up the
young uns, an' we thought I might help along a big sight if I was out
here."
The colonel was not what in the States would be called a prayer-meeting
man, but he looked steadily at the young man, and inwardly breathed a
very earnest "God have mercy on you all." Then he came back to the more
immediate present, and, looking about, asked:
"Who's got sleepin'-room for this young man?"
"I hev," quickly answered Grump, who had approached, unnoticed, while
the newcomer was being interviewed.
Every one started, and Grump's countenance did not gather amiability as
he sneakingly noticed the general distrust.
"Yer needn't glare like that," said he, savagely; "I sed it, an' I mean
it. Come along, youngster--it's about the time I generally fry my pork."
And the two beauties walked away together, while the crowd stared in
speechless astonishment.
"He won't make much out uv that boy, that's one comfort," said Black
Tom, who had partially recovered from his wonder. "You ken bet yer
eye-teeth that his pockets wouldn't pan out five dollars."
"Then what does he want uv him?" queried Slim Sam.
"Somethin' mean an' underhand, for certain," said the colonel, "and the
boy must be purtected. And I hereby app'int this whole crowd to keep an
eye on Grump, an' see he don't make a slave of the boy, an' don't rob
him of dust. An' I reckon I'll take one of yer with me, an' keep watch
of the old rascal to-night. I don't trust him wuth a durn."
That night the boys at the saloon wrinkled their brows like unto an
impecunious Committee of Ways and Means, as they vainly endeavored to
surmise why Grump could want that young man as a lodger. Men who pursued
wittling as an aid to reason made pecks of chips and shavings, and were
no nearer a solution than when they began.
There were a number of games played, but so great was the
absentmindedness of the players, that several hardened scamps indulged
in some most unscrupulous "stocking" of the cards without detection. But
even one of these, after having dealt himself both bowers and the king,
besides two aces, suddenly imagined he had discovered Grump's motive,
and so earnest was he in exposing that nefarious wretch, that one of his
opponents changed hands with him. Even the barkeeper mixed the bottles
badly, and on one occasion, just as the boys were raising their glasses,
he metaphorically dashed the cup from their lips by a violent, "I tell
you what" and an unsatisfactory theory. Finally the colonel arose.
"Boys," said he, in the tone of a man whose mind is settled, "'tain't
'cos the youngster looked like lively comp'ny, fur he didn't. 'Taint
'cos Grump wanted to do him a good turn, fur 'tain't his style.
Cons'kently, thar's sumthin' wrong. Tom, I reckon I take _you_ along."
And Tom and the colonel departed.
During the month which had elapsed since his advent, Grump had managed
to build him a hut of the usual mining pattern, and the colonel and Tom
stealthily examined its walls, front and rear, until they found crevices
which would admit the muzzle of a revolver, should it be necessary. Then
they applied their eyes to the same cracks, and saw the youth asleep on
a pile of dead grass, with Grump's knapsack for a pillow, and one of
Grump's blankets over him. Grump himself was sitting on a fragment of
stone, staring into the fire, with his face in his hands.
He sat so long that the worthy colonel began to feel indignant; to sit
in a cramped position on the outside of a house, for the sake of abused
human nature, was an action more praiseworthy than comfortable, and the
colonel began to feel personally aggrieved at Grump's delay. Besides,
the colonel was growing thirsty.
Suddenly Grump arose, looked down at the sleeping youth, and then knelt
beside him. The colonel briskly brought his pistol to bear on him, and
with great satisfaction noted that Tom's muzzle occupied a crack in the
front walls, and that he himself was out of range.
A slight tremor seemed to run through the sleeper; "and no wonder," said
the colonel, when he recounted the adventure to the boys; "anybody'd
shiver to hev _that_ catamount glarin' at him."
Grump arose, and softly went to a corner which was hidden by the
chimney.
"Gone for his knife, I'll bet," whispered the colonel to himself. "I
hope Tom don't spile my mad by firin' fust."
Grump returned to view; but instead of a knife, he bore another blanket,
which he gently spread over his sleeping guest, then he lay down beside
Mix with a log of wood for a pillow.
The colonel withdrew his pistol, and softly muttered to himself a dozen
or two enormous oaths; then he arose, straightened out his cramped legs,
and started to find Tom. That worthy had started on a similar errand,
and on meeting, the two stared at each other in the moonlight as blankly
as a couple of well-preserved mummies.
"S'pose the boys'll believe us?" whispered the colonel.
"We ken bring 'em down to see the show themselves, ef they don't,"
replied Tom.
The colonel's report was productive of the choicest assortment of
ejaculations that had been heard in camp since Natchez, the leader of
the Vinegar Gulch Boys, joined the Church and commenced preaching.
The good-natured Bozen was for drinking Grump's health at once, but the
colonel demurred. So did Slim Sam.
"He's goin' to make him work on sheers, or some hocus-pocusin'
arrangement, an' he can't afford to hev him git sick. That's what his
kindness amounts to," said Sam.
"Ur go fur his gratitude--and dust, when he gets any," suggested
another, and no one repelled the insinuation.
It was evident, however, that there was but little chance of either
inquest or funeral from Grump's, and the crowd finally dispersed with
the confirmed assurance that there would be one steady cause of
excitement for some time to come.
Next morning young Mix staked a claim adjoining Grump. The colonel led
him aside, bound him to secrecy and told him that there was a far
richer dirt further down the stream. The young man pointed toward the
hut, and replied:
"He sed 'twas payin' dirt, an' I ort to take his advice, seein' he giv
me a pick an' shovel an' pan--sed he'd hev to git new ones anyhow."
"Thunder!" ejaculated the colonel, more puzzled than ever knowing well
how a miner will cling as long as possible to tools with which he is
acquainted.
"Jest wait till that boy gets a bag of dust," said a miner, when the
colonel had narrated the second wonder. "The express agent'll be here
next week to git what fellers wants to send to their folks--the boy'll
want to send some to his'n--his bag'll be missin' 'bout then--jist wait,
and ef my words don't come true, call me greaser."
The colonel pondered over the prophecy, and finally determined on
another vigil outside Grump's hut.