Both Judge Bigelow and Squire Floyd were discreet men, and did not, at
the outset of their executorship, do more in the way of giving publicity
to the fact, than probating the will, and entering into bonds for the
faithful performance of the trust. For the present they decided to let
Mrs. Montgomery remain in occupancy of the old mansion, and she accepted
this concession in her favor.
The property left by Captain Allen was large. The grounds upon which the
old house stood, embraced nearly twenty acres, and as the town had grown
in that direction, its value might now be estimated by the foot, instead
of the acre, as houses had grown up on all sides. Moreover, the stream
of water upon which the mill of Squire Floyd stood, ran through these
grounds, in a series of picturesque rapids, giving a fall of over twenty
feet. The value of this property, including a mill site, was estimated
at sixty thousand dollars. Then there were twenty thousand dollars in
stock of the County Bank, the interest of which Mrs. Allen had drawn
since the death of her husband, regularly, as administratrix of the
estate. Besides this property, there were several pieces of unimproved
land in and around the town, the value of which could not fall much
below twenty thousand dollars. In addition to all this, was a coffee
estate on the island of Porto Rico. But as to its extent, or value, no
evidence appeared. It might now be richly productive, or a mere tropical
wilderness. If productive, no evidence of any return since Captain
Allen's death appeared.
The winter passed without any apparent movement on the part of the
executors looking to the discovery of Mrs. Allen's heirs. Young Dewey
came up from New York every few weeks, to hold business interviews with
his uncle and Squire Floyd, touching the mill-extension which was
fully determined upon; Judge Bigelow agreeing to invest twenty thousand
dollars, and the nephew ten thousand. All these matters were talked of
in the beginning, freely, before Wallingford, who still had his office
with his old preceptor, and shared in his business. After a while, he
noticed a growing reserve on the part of Judge Bigelow and Squire Floyd,
when he was by, touching their private affairs; and then they ceased
entirely all reference thereto.
Dewey came up as frequently as usual, but avoided any remark in relation
to business while in the presence of Wallingford. During his stay in
S----, the Judge spent but little time at the office; being, for the
most part, at the mill with his nephew and the Squire.
In the spring, a large force of men was set to work on the extension of
Squire Floyd's mill; and as Judge Bigelow had become largely interested
in the new enterprise, he gave a great deal more attention to what was
going on in that direction, than to the business of his office, the
heaviest part of which devolved upon Mr. Wallingford. Still, no steps
were taken to discover the heirs of Mrs. Allen. Once or twice Mr.
Wallingford had approached the subject, but the Judge made no response.
At last, he put the question direct, as to what had been done. The Judge
seemed a little annoyed; but said, in a hurried way that was unusual
with him,
“I must, and will attend to this matter immediately. I have had so much
on my mind that it has been neglected.”
But the spring months passed--summer glided by--and still there was
no advertisement for heirs, nor any steps taken, so far as Wallingford
could learn, to ascertain their existence.
Mrs. Montgomery still occupied the old mansion, waiting patiently the
issue whatever it might be. Her health, I regretted to find, was not
firm. She suffered a great deal from nervous debility; and I saw,
plainly, that she had failed considerably during the past few months.
Blanche, on the contrary, after recovering from the illness which
followed immediately on her arrival in S----, had continued in excellent
health; and was growing daily more matured and womanly both as to mental
development and personal bearing.
The mill improvements went on all summer, exciting no little interest
in our town, and occasioning no small amount of talk and speculation.
It was some time in the fall of that year, that I was permitted to hear
this brief conversation between a couple of townsmen. Mr. A----had made
some query as to the source of all the money expended on the new mill of
Squire Floyd, which was now standing forth, under roof, in most
imposing proportions, compared with the old works. Mr. B----shrugged his
shoulders, and replied,
“Floyd and the Judge are joint executors of old Allen's estate, you
know.”
“What does that signify?” inquired Mr. A----.
“It may signify a great deal. They have trust funds in their possession
to a large amount, I am told.”
“They are both honorable men, and would not violate their trust,” said
A----.
“I will not gainsay that,” answered Mr. B----. “Still, they may use
these funds temporarily, and wrong no one.”
Nothing more was said in my presence, but I turned their remarks over
and over again, feeling less satisfied the more I pondered them. A day
or two afterwards I met Mr. Wallingford, and said to him,
“How comes on the search for the heirs of the Allen estate?”
The question caused him to look grave.
“No progress has been made, so far as I can learn,” he answered.
“Isn't this indifference on the part of the executors a little
extraordinary?” I remarked.
“I must confess that I do not understand it,” said the young lawyer.
“There is personal, as well as real estate?”
“Yes. Stocks worth twenty thousand dollars.”
“I have heard it suggested, that trust funds in the case are going into
Squire Floyd's mill.”
Wallingford started at the suggestion, and looked for some moments
intently in my face; then dropped his eyes, and stood lost in thought a
good while.
“Where did you hear the suggestion?” he at length inquired.
I repeated the conversation just mentioned, and named the individuals
with whom it had occurred.
“And now, Henry,” said I, “put this hint, and the singular neglect of
the executors to search for the heirs to the Allen property, together,
and tell me how the matter shapes itself in your mind. We speak
confidentially with each other, of course.”
“I don't just like the appearance of it, that is all I can say, Doctor,”
he replied in a half absent manner.
“As you represent the interests of Mrs. Montgomery,” said I, “is it not
your duty to look a little closer into this matter?”
“It is; and I shall give it immediate attention.”
He did so, and to his surprise, found that all the bank stock had been
sold, and transferred. It was now plain to him where at least a part
of the funds being so liberally expended on the mill property of Squire
Floyd came from. On venturing to make some inquiries of Judge Bigelow
bearing on the subject, that individual showed an unusual degree of
irritation, and intimated, in terms not to be misunderstood, that he
thought himself competent to manage any business he might undertake, and
did not feel disposed to tolerate any intermeddling.
From that time, Wallingford saw that a separation from his old preceptor
was inevitable; and he so shaped events, that in less than three months
he made the separation easy and natural, and took an office to himself
alone.
Still there was no movement on the part of the executors in regard
to the valuable estate in their hands. Summer and fall passed, and
Christmas saw the splendid improvements of Squire Floyd completed,
and the new mill in operation, under the vigorous power of steam. The
product thus secured was almost fabulous in the eyes of the half asleep
and awake people of S----, many of whom could hardly imagine people
enough in the country to consume the miles of cloth that came streaming
out from the rattling looms. And yet, we were informed, that more than
quadruple this product could be sold by the extensive house of Floyd,
Lawson, Lee, & Co.; and that all that stood in the way of creating a
magnificent fortune out of cotton bales, was the lack of productive
facilities.
During this winter I saw more than usual of Mrs. Dewey. She came up
from New York with her nurse and child, a babe not quite a year old, and
spent over six weeks with her parents. She had lost, in the two years
which had passed since her marriage, nearly all those beautiful traits
of character which made her once so charming. Fashionable city life
seemed to have spoiled her altogether. Her mind had not grown in the
right direction. She had wholly abandoned that tasteful reading through
which intellectual refinement comes; and to all appearance, no longer
cared for anything beyond the mere sensuous. Nothing in S----had
any interest for her; and she scarcely took the pains to conceal her
contempt for certain sincere and worthy people, who felt called upon,
for the sake of her parents, to show her some attention. She was not
happy, of course. When in repose; I noticed a discontented look on her
face. Her eyes had lost that clear, innocent, almost child-like beauty
of expression, that once made you gaze into them; and now had a cold,
absent, or eagerly longing expression, as if her thought were straining
itself forward towards some coveted good.
Her conversation was almost always within the range of New York
fashionable themes; and barren of any food upon which the mind could
grow. There was not even the pretence of affection between her and her
husband. The fairest specimen of well bred indifference I had yet seen
was exhibited in their conduct to each other. Their babe did not seem
to be a matter of much account either. Delia took no personal care of it
whatever--leaving all this to the nurse.
It happened one day that I was called in to see the child. I found it
suffering from some of the ill effects of difficult dentition, and
did what the case required. There was an old friend of Delia's at the
house--a young lady who had been much attached to her, and who still
retained a degree of her old friendship. They were talking together in
a pleasant, familiar way, when I came down stairs from my visit to the
sick child--the mother had not shown sufficient interest in the little
sufferer to attend me to the nurse's room. A word or two of almost
careless inquiry was made;--I had scarcely answered the mother's
queries, when her friend said, in a laughing way, looking from the
window at the same time,
“There, Delia! see what you escaped.”
I turned my eyes in the same direction, and saw Mr. Wallingford walking
past, on the opposite side of the street, with his head bent down. His
step was slow, but firm, and his air and carriage manly.
Delia shrugged her shoulders, and drew up the corners of her lips. There
was an expression very much like contempt on her face.--But she did
not make any reply. I saw this expression gradually fade away, and her
countenance grow sober. Her friend did not pursue the banter, and the
subject dropped.
What she had escaped! It was a dark day in the calendar of her life,
when she made that escape; and I think there must have been times when
a consciousness of this fact pressed upon her soul like a suffocating
nightmare.