There was one point of time to which Leonard Jasper looked with no
little anxiety, and that was to the period of Fanny Elder's majority,
when it was his purpose to relinquish his guardianship, and wash his
hands, if it were possible to do so, entirely clean of her. Until the
estate left by her father was settled up, the property in her hands
and receipts in his, there was danger ahead. And, as the time drew
nearer and nearer, he felt increasing uneasiness.
On the very day that Fanny reached her eighteenth year, Jasper sent a
note to Claire, asking an interview.
"I wish," said he, when the latter came, "to have some conference with
you about Miss Elder. She has now, you are no doubt aware, attained
the legal age. Such being the case, I wish, as early as it can be
done, to settle up the estate of her father, and pay over to her, or
to any person she may select as her agent, the property in my hands.
It has increased some in value. Will you consult her on the subject?"
Claire promised to do so; and, at the same time, asked as to the
amount of Fanny's property.
"The total value will not fall much short of eight thousand dollars,"
replied Jasper. "There are two houses and lots that would sell at any
time for six thousand dollars. You live in one of these houses, and
the other is rented for two hundred and fifty dollars. Then there are
nearly two thousand dollars in six per cent. stocks. When her father
died, his estate consisted of these two houses, and a piece of poor
land which he had taken as satisfaction for a debt. At the first
opportunity, I sold the land and invested the money. This sum, with
accumulations of interest, and rents received for several years,
beyond what was required for Fanny's maintenance, has now increased
to within a fraction of two thousand dollars, and is, as just said,
invested in stocks. I think," added Jasper, "that you had better
assume the management of this property yourself. Get from Miss Elder a
power of attorney authorizing you to settle the estate, and the whole
business can be completed in a very short time. I will make you out an
accurate statement of every thing, so that you will be at no loss to
comprehend the accounts."
To this there could, of course, be no objection on the part of Claire.
He promised to confer with Fanny, and let Jasper know, in a day or
two, the result.
Now came a new trial for Claire and his wife. They had taken Fanny,
when only four years of age, and taken her so entirely into their home
and affections, that she had almost from the first seemed to them as
one of their own children. In a brief time the earlier memories of the
child faded. The past was absorbed in the present; and she loved
as parents none other than those she called by the tender names of
"father" and "mother." The children with whom she grew up she
knew only as her brothers and sisters. This thorough adoption and
incorporation of the child into their family was not, in any sense,
the work of design on the part of Claire and his wife. But they saw,
in the beginning, no reason to check the natural tendency thereto.
When little Fanny, of her own accord, addressed them, soon after her
virtual adoption, as "father" and "mother," they accepted the child's
own interpretation of their relative positions, and took her from that
moment more entirely into their hearts.
And so Fanny Elder grew up to womanhood, in the full belief that she
was the child of Mr. and Mrs. Claire. The new trial through which this
excellent couple were now to pass, the reader can easily imagine.
The time had come when Fanny must know the real truth in regard to
herself--must be told that she had no natural claim upon the love of
those whose love she prized above all things.
It seemed cruel to take away the conscious right to love and be loved,
which had so long blessed her. And yet the truth must now be made
known, and Mrs. Claire took upon herself the task of breaking it as
gently as possible.
A woman in age and stature, yet with all the gentle deference of
a daughter, Fanny moved by the side of Mrs. Claire with a loving
thoughtfulness, daily sharing her household duties. Some months before
she had left school, but was still taking lessons in music and French,
and devoting a portion of time to practice in drawing, for which she
had a decided taste.
On the day after Mr. Claire's interview with Jasper, Mrs. Claire said
to Fanny, with a seriousness of tone and manner that brought a look of
surprise to her face--
"Come to my room with me, dear. I have something to say to you."
Fanny moved along by her side, wondering to herself what could be in
her mother's mind. On entering the chamber, Mrs. Claire shut the door,
and then, as she sat down, with an arm around the young girl's waist,
she said, in a thoughtful, earnest voice--
"Fanny, I want you to tell me the first thing you recollect in life."
"The first thing, mother?" She smiled at a request so unexpected, and
Mrs. Claire smiled in return, though from a different cause.
"Yes, dear. I have a reason for asking this. Now, let your thoughts
run back--far back, and recall for me the very first thing you can
recollect."
The countenance of Fanny grew thoughtful, then serious, and then a
half-frightened look flashed over it.
"Why, mother," said she, "what can you mean? What do you want to
know?"
"Your first recollection, dear?" returned Mrs. Claire, with an
assuring smile, although her heart was full, and it required the most
active self-control to prevent her feelings from becoming manifest in
her voice.
"Well, let me see! The first? The first? I was playing on the floor
with a dear little baby? It was our Edie, wasn't it?"
"Yes--so far your memory is correct. I remember the time to which you
refer as perfectly as if but a week had passed. Now, dear, try if you
can recall any thing beyond that."
"Beyond that, mother? Oh, why do you ask? You make me feel so
strangely. Can it be that some things I have thought to be only the
memory of dreams, are indeed realities?"
"What are those things, my child?"
"I have a dim remembrance of a pale, but beautiful woman who often
kissed and caressed me--of being in a sick-room--of a strange
confusion in the house--of riding in a carriage with father to a
funeral. Mother! is there any thing in this; if so, what does it
mean?"
"That woman, Fanny," said Mrs. Claire, speaking with forced composure,
"was your mother."
The face of the young girl grew instantly pale; her lips parted;
and she gasped for breath. Then falling forward on the bosom of Mrs.
Claire, she sobbed--
"Oh, mother! mother! How can you say this? It cannot, it cannot be.
You are my own, my only mother."
"You did not receive your life through me, Fanny," replied Mrs.
Claire, so soon as she could command her voice, for she too was
overcome by feeling--"but in all else I am your mother; and I love you
equally with my other children. If there has ever been a difference,
it has all been in your favour."
"Why, why did you destroy the illusion under which I have so long
rested?" said Fanny, when both were more composed. "Why tell me
a truth from which no good can flow? Why break in upon my happy
ignorance with such a chilling revelation? Oh, mother, mother! Forgive
me, if I say you have been cruel."
"Not so, my child. Believe me, that nothing but duty would have ever
driven me to this avowal. You are now at woman's legal age. You have
a guardian, in whose hands your father, at his death, left, for your
benefit, some property; and this person now desires to settle the
estate, and transfer to you what remains."
Bewildered, like one awakening from a dream, Fanny listened to
this strange announcement. And it was some time before she really
comprehended her true position.
"Not your child--a guardian--property!--What does it all mean? Am I
really awake, mother?"
"Yes, dear, you are awake. It is no dream, believe me," was the tender
reply of Mrs. Claire. "But, remember, that all this does not
diminish our love for you--does not remove you in the least from
our affections. You are still our child, bound to us by a thousand
intertwining chords."
But little more passed between them at this interview. Fanny asked
for no more particulars, and Mrs. Claire did not think it necessary to
give any further information. Fanny soon retired to her own chamber,
there to commune with her thoughts, and to seek, in tears, relief to
her oppressed feelings.
The meeting of Claire with Fanny, on his return home, was affecting.
She met him with a quivering lip and moistened eyes, and, as she
laid her cheek against his breast, murmured in a sad, yet deeply
affectionate voice--
"My father!"
"My own dear child!" quickly replied Claire, with emotion.
And then both stood for some time silent. Leading her to a seat,
Claire said tenderly--
"I have always loved you truly, and now you are dearer to me than
ever."
"My more than father," was her simple response.
"My own dear child!" said Mr. Claire, kissing her fondly. "We have
ever blessed the day on which you came to us from God."
Words would only have mocked their feelings, and so but few words
passed between them, yet how full of thoughts crowding upon thoughts
were their minds--how over-excited their hearts with new emotions of
love.
After the younger members of the family had retired on that evening,
Mr. and Mrs. Claire and Fanny were alone together. All three were in
a calmer state of mind. Fanny listened with deep attention, her hand
shading her countenance so as to conceal its varying expression, to
a brief history of her parentage. Of things subsequent to the time of
her entrance into her present home, but little was said. There was
an instinctive delicacy on the part of Claire and his wife, now that
Fanny was about coming into the possession of property, which kept
back all allusion to the sacrifices they had made, and the pain they
had suffered on her account, in their contentions with her guardian.
In fact, this matter of property produced with them a feeling of
embarrassment. They had no mercenary thoughts in regard to it--had
no wish to profit by their intimate and peculiar relation. And yet,
restricted in their own income, and with a family growing daily more
expensive, they understood but too well the embarrassment which
would follow, if any very important change were made in their present
external relations. To explain every thing to Fanny, would, they knew,
lead to an instant tender of all she possessed. But this they
could not do; nor had they a single selfish desire in regard to her
property. If things could remain as they were, without injustice to
Fanny, they would be contented; but they were not altogether satisfied
as to the amount they were receiving for her maintenance. It struck
them as being too much; and they had more than once conferred together
in regard to its reduction.
The first thing to be done was to make Fanny comprehend her relation
to Mr. Jasper, her guardian, and his wish to settle up the estate of
her father, and transfer to her, or her representative, the property
that remained in his hands.
"I will leave all with you, father," was the very natural response
made to this. "All I have is yours. Do just as you think best."
On the next day a power of attorney in the name of Edward Claire was
executed; and, as Jasper was anxious to get the business settled,
every facility thereto was offered. Claire examined the will of Mr.
Elder, in which certain property was mentioned, and saw that it agreed
with the guardian's statement. All the accounts were scrutinized; and
all the vouchers for expenditure compared with the various entries.
Every thing appeared correct, and Claire expressed himself entirely
satisfied. All legal forms were then complied with; and, in due time,
the necessary documents were prepared ready for the signature of
Claire, by which Jasper would be freed from the nervous anxiety he had
for years felt whenever his thoughts went forward to this particular
point of time.
On the evening preceding the day when a consummation so long and
earnestly looked for was to take place, Jasper, with his mind too much
absorbed in business troubles to mingle with his family, sat alone in
his library, deeply absorbed in plans and calculations. His confidence
in fortune and his own prudence had been growing weaker, daily; and
now it seemed to him as if a great darkness were gathering all around.
He had fully trusted in himself; alas! how weak now seemed to him
his human arm; how dim the vision with which he would penetrate the
future. He was mocked of his own overweening and proud confidence.
This was his state of mind when a servant came to the library-door,
and announced a gentleman who wished to see him.
"What is his name?" asked Jasper.
"He said it was no difference. He was a friend."
"It might make a great difference," Jasper muttered in an undertone.
"Show him up," he said aloud.
The servant retired, and Jasper waited for his visitor to appear. He
was not long in suspense. The door soon reopened, and a man, poorly
clad, and with a face bearing strong marks of intemperance and evil
passions, came in.
"You do not know me," said he, observing that the merchant, who had
risen to his feet, did not recognise him.
Jasper shook his head.
"Look closer." There was an air of familiarity and rude insolence
about the man.
"Martin!" exclaimed Jasper, stepping back a few paces. "Is it
possible!"
"Quite possible, friend Jasper," returned the man, helping himself to
a chair, and sinking into it with the air of one who felt himself at
home.
Surprise and perplexity kept the merchant dumb for some moments. He
would quite as lief have been confronted with a robber, pistol in
hand.
"I do not wish to see you, Martin," said he, at length, speaking in a
severe tone of voice. "Why have you intruded on me again? Are you not
satisfied? Have you no mercy?"
"None, Leonard Jasper, none," replied the man scowling. "I never knew
the meaning of the word--no more than yourself."
"You are nothing better than a robber," said the merchant, bitterly.
"I only share with bolder robbers their richer plunder," retorted the
man.
"I will not bear this, Martin. Leave my presence."
"I will relieve you certainly," said the visitor, rising, "when you
have done for me what I wish. I arrived here, to-day, penniless; and
have called for a trifling loan to help me on my way North."
"Loan! what mockery! I will yield no further to your outrageous
demands. I was a fool ever to have feared the little power you
possess. Go, sir! I do not fear you."
"I want your check for two hundred dollars--no more," said Martin, in
a modified tone--"I will not be hard on you. Necessity drives me to
this resort; but I hope never to trouble you again."
"Not a dollar," replied Jasper, firmly. "And now, my friend, seek
some other mode of sustaining yourself in vice and idleness. You have
received from me your last contribution. In settling the estate
of Reuben Elder to the entire satisfaction of all parties, I have
disarmed you. You have no further power to hurt."
"You may find yourself mistaken in regard to my power," replied
Martin as he made a movement toward the door, and threw back upon the
merchant a side-glance of the keenest malignity. "Many a foot has been
stung by the reptile it spurned."
The word "stay" came not to Jasper's lips. He was fully in earnest.
Martin paused, with his hand on the door, and said--
"One hundred dollars will do."
"Not a copper, if it were to save you from the nether regions!"
cried Jasper, his anger and indignation o'erleaping the boundaries of
self-control.
He was alone in the next moment. As his excitement cooled down, he
felt by no means indifferent to the consequences which might follow
this rupture with Martin. More than one thought presented itself,
which, if it could have been weighed calmly a few minutes before,
would have caused a slightly modified treatment of his unwelcome
visitor.
But having taken his position, Jasper determined to adhere to it, and
brave all consequences.
While Claire was yet seated at the breakfast-table on the next
morning, word was brought that a gentleman was in the parlour and
wished to see him.
On entering the parlour, he found there a man of exceedingly ill
appearance, both as to countenance and apparel.
"My name is Martin," said this person--"though you do not, I presume,
know me."
Claire answered that he was to him an entire stranger.
"I have," said the man, speaking in a low, confidential tone of voice,
"became cognisant of certain facts, which it much concerns you, or at
least your adopted daughter, Fanny Elder, to know."
For a few moments, Claire was overcome with surprise.
"Concerns Fanny Elder to know! What do you mean, sir?"
"Precisely what I say. There has been a great fraud committed; and I
know all the ins and the outs of it!"
"By whom?" asked Claire.
"Ah!" replied the visitor, "that we will come to after a while."
"Upon whom, then?"
"Upon the estate of Ruben Elder, the father of your adopted daughter."
Not liking either the man's appearance or manner, Claire said, after a
moment's reflection--
"Why have you called to see me?"
"To give the information I have indicated--provided, of course, that
you desire to have it."
"On what terms do you propose to act in this matter? Let us understand
each other in the beginning."
"I can put you in the way of recovering for Miss Elder from twenty to
a hundred thousand dollars, out of which she has been cheated. But,
before I give you any information on the subject, I shall require an
honourable pledge on your part, as well as written agreement, to pay
me twenty per cent. of the whole amount recovered. Will you give it?"
Claire bent his head in thought for some moments. When he looked up he
said--
"No, sir. I can make no compact with you of this kind."
"Very well, sir. That closes the matter," replied Martin, rising. "If
you will not buy a fortune at so small a cost, you deserve to be poor.
How far your conscience is clear in respect to Miss Elder, is another
matter. But, perhaps you don't credit what I say. Let me give you a
single hint. Fanny Elder was missing once for three days. I had a hand
in that affair. Do you think she was carried off, and taken to another
city for nothing? If so, you are wonderfully mistaken. But good
morning, sir. If you should, on reflection, change your mind, you can
hear of me by calling at the office of Grind, the lawyer."
"Good morning," returned Claire, showing not the least disposition to
retain the man, toward whom he experienced a strong feeling of dislike
and sense of repulsion.
Martin lingered a few moments, and then went out, leaving Claire
bewildered by a rush of new thoughts.