MR. CRAVEN MEETS WITH UNEXPECTED DIFFICULTIES.
Mrs. Craven was placed in a difficult position. At the special request
of Frank, as conveyed in his letter, she had agreed to keep secret her
knowledge of his safety. Of course, she could no longer indulge in her
sorrow, which at first overwhelmed her. Her only course was to affirm
her belief in his deliverance, though she was not at liberty to name
the grounds upon which her belief was based. This must necessarily seem
strange, as a "presentiment" was a very slender reason for the change
in her manner. Had she been willing to play a part, Mrs. Craven might
still have counterfeited grief, but this, again, was not in accordance
with her nature. She preferred to be misunderstood, and to excite
surprise in those who were ignorant of the facts.
But this was not her only perplexity. There was the haunting suspicion
that the man whom, unhappily for herself, she called husband, had
instigated the wicked plot against the life of her only son. Frank
believed it. It might not be true; yet, while there was a possibility
of its truth, how could she continue to treat him with her usual
courtesy? She sought to do it, but she could not. Though studiously
polite, her manner became very cold--almost repellent. When Mr. Craven
approached her she could hardly avoid shuddering.
Of course, this change became perceptible to him, and he was puzzled
and disturbed. It upset all his calculations. He thought she would
accept the fact of Frank's death--of which, by the way, he had no doubt
himself--and would be so overcome by sorrow that he could readily
obtain her consent to those business steps which would place the entire
control of Frank's fortune in his hands. Yet here she was, declining to
believe that he was dead, and evidently her confidence in him was, for
some reason, chilled and impaired.
Mr. Craven was impatient to broach the subject, and finding his wife's
manner still the same, and with no prospect of alteration, he devised a
plausible mode of approaching the subject which was so near his heart.
One evening, after the supper dishes were removed, just as Mrs. Craven
was leaving the room, he called her back.
"My dear," he said, "will you sit down a few minutes? I have a few
words to say to you."
She complied with his request.
"Ahem!" he commenced. "I have taken a step to-day of which I wish to
apprize you."
"Indeed."
"Yes, my dear. Sensible of the uncertainty of life, I have to-day made
my will."
"Indeed!" she said again, exhibiting no particular interest in Mr.
Craven's communication.
"You do not ask me in what way I have left my money!"
"I do not suppose it concerns me."
"But it does, materially. I have no near relatives--at least, none that
I care for. I have bequeathed all my property to you."
As Mr. Craven possessed nothing whatever apart from the money which
his wife permitted him to control, this magnanimous liberality did not
require any great self-denial or evince any special affection on his
part. However, his wife did not know that, and upon her ignorance he
relied. He expected her to thank him, but her manner continued cold.
"I am obliged to you for your intention," she said, "but I am not
likely to survive you."
"We cannot tell, my dear. Should you live to be my widow, I should wish
you to inherit all I left behind me."
"Thank you, but I should prefer that you would leave all you possess to
the relatives you refer to."
"I have none that I care for."
"I suppose we must sometimes leave property to those we do not
particularly like."
Mr. Craven was very much disappointed by the coldness with which his
liberality was received. He wanted to suggest that his wife should
follow his example and leave him her fortune, increased as it was by
Frank's, of which she was the legal heir. But this proposal was not so
easy to make. Nevertheless, he determined, at any rate, to try for the
control of Frank's estate.
"There's but one thing more I want to mention," he said. "But first
let me say, that my will must stand without alteration. Of course, you
can make such disposition of my property as you like when it falls to
you, but to you it must go. Now, for the other matter. I beg you will
excuse me from saying anything to grieve you, but it must be said. It
is necessary for us to take some measures about poor Frank's property."
"Why is it necessary?"
"Since he is dead--"
"But he is not dead," said Mrs. Craven, quickly.
"Not dead? Have we not Colonel Sharpley's testimony? He saw the poor
boy fall over the cliff."
Mr. Craven drew out his handkerchief and pressed it to his eyes, but
his wife displayed no emotion.
"Then I don't believe Colonel Sharpley," said Mrs. Craven.
"Don't believe him!" exclaimed Mr. Craven. "What possible motive can he
have for stating what is not true?"
"It may be that Frank fell, but that would not necessarily kill him."
Still she shuddered, as fancy conjured up the terrible scene.
Mr. Craven shook his head.
"My dear," he said, "I regret to destroy your hopes. If such a fancy
could be indulged without interfering with what ought to be done, I
would say nothing to disturb your dream, wild and improbable as it is.
But Frank left property. The law requires that it should be legally
administered."
"Let it accumulate till my boy returns."
"That would be foolish and idle. The poor boy will never need it
more;" and again Mr. Craven buried his emotion in the depth of his
handkerchief. "His bright and promising career is over for this world.
He has gone where worldly riches will never benefit him more."
But for her private knowledge of Frank's safety, Mrs. Craven would have
been moved by his pathetic reference; but, as it was, she stood it
without manifesting any emotion, thus plunging her husband into deeper
and more angry bewilderment.
"As I said before," returned his wife, "I firmly believe that Frank is
still alive."
"What proof--what reason can you offer?" demanded Mr. Craven,
impatiently.
"None, except my fixed conviction."
"Based upon nothing at all, and contradicted by the most convincing
testimony of eye-witnesses."
"That is your view."
"It is the view of common sense."
"There is no need of doing anything about the property at present, is
there? I am the legal heir, am I not?"
"Ahem! Yes."
"Then it is for me to say what shall be done. I am in no hurry to
assume possession of my boy's fortune."
Mr. Craven bit his lip. Here was an impracticable woman. Apparently,
nothing could be done with her--at least as long as she shared this
delusion.
"I shall soon be able to convince you," he said, "that you are laboring
under a happy but an untenable delusion. I expect Colonel Sharpley in
the next steamer."
Mrs. Craven looked up now.
"Is he coming here?" she asked.
"Yes; so he writes. He wishes to tell you all about the accident--how
it happened, and some details of poor Frank's last experiences in
Europe. He felt that it would be a satisfaction to you to hear them
from his own lips. He has, therefore, made this journey expressly on
your account."
Mrs. Craven looked upon Sharpley as the murderer of her boy. It was his
hand, she believed, that thrust him from the cliff and meant to compass
his death. Could she receive such a man as a guest?
"Mr. Craven," she said, abruptly, "if Colonel Sharpley comes here, I
have one request to make."
"What is it, my dear?"
"That you do not invite him to stay in this house."
"Why, my dear? I thought you would like to see the last companion of
poor Frank," returned Mr. Craven, surprised.
"I cannot bear the sight of that man. But for him, Frank would not have
incurred such peril."
"But Sharpley is not to blame for an accident. He could not help it. I
regret that you should be so unreasonably prejudiced."
"Call it prejudice if you will. I could not endure the thought of
entertaining him as a guest."
"This is very strange, my dear. What will he think?"
"I cannot say, but you must not invite him here."
Mrs. Craven left the room, leaving her husband angry and perplexed.
"Surely she can't suspect anything!" he thought, startled at the
suggestion. "But no, it is impossible. We have covered our tracks too
carefully for that. On my soul, I don't know what to do. This obstinate
woman threatens to upset all my plans. I will consult Sharpley when he
comes."