“This is a serious matter,” he said, looking up at Mrs. Montgomery.
“It is,” she answered, calmly. “The will appears to be in legal form.”
“Yes.”
“And must go into the hands of those who are named as executors.”
“And be by them entered in the office of probate,” added Wallingford.
“I would have placed it in their hands immediately on its discovery, but have, acting under advice from my kind friend here, waited until your return from England. No interest has suffered, I presume, by this delay?”
“None.”
Wallingford bent his eyes to the floor, and sat for some time as if half-confounded by the discovery.
“What step will the executors probably take?” I inquired.
“It will be their duty to assume possession of the estate, and hold it for the heirs of Mrs. Allen, if any are in existence,” he replied.
“And it will be their duty to take all proper means for discovering these heirs?” said I.
“Yes. That follows, of course.”
“And if none are found within a reasonable time?” I asked.
“The phrase, a reasonable time, is very indeterminate,” said Wallingford. “It may include one, or ten years, according to the facts in the case, the views of the executors and the courts.”
“But, finally?”
“Finally,” he answered, “if no heirs come forward to claim the estate, it will revert to the old line of descent through the blood relations of Captain Allen.”
“And come into the possession of Mrs. Montgomery?”
“Yes, if the courts are satisfied with the evidence which can be presented in her favor.”
There followed a long silence, which Mrs. Montgomery was first to break.
“I believe,” she said, firmly, “that I am prepared for the final issue of this matter, whatever it may be. I shall still require legal advice, Mr. Wallingford.”
The young man bowed assent.
“And, as Judge Bigelow is one of the executors—”
“I do not think, madam,” said Wallingford, interrupting her, “that the fact of his executorship will make him any the less a safe adviser for you. He is a man of the highest integrity of character, clear-seeing, and of impartial judgment.”
“I believe in his judgment and integrity,” she replied. “Still, I do not think it well to have these two interests represented by the same man. You are his associate, if I understand correctly the relation between you.”
“I am, in a certain sense.”
“Do you have a share in all of his business?”
“Not in all.”
“So he can be independent of you in any special case if he deems it desirable.”
“Yes.”
“And this is also true as regards yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Then, Mr. Wallingford, I shall consult you, individually, in future.”
He bowed low in acquiescence.
“And let me say to you, once for all, that I want only my rights, if I have any, protected. I do not wish any impediments thrown in the way of a proper search for the heirs of Mrs. Allen; but desire to see the fullest notice given, and in channels by which it is most likely to reach them. At the same time, it is but just to me and mine that all right steps should be taken to protect my interests, in case no heirs should be found. And I have faith in you, Mr. Wallingford.”
“You shall never have cause to regret your confidence, madam,” he replied, in a tone so full of manly integrity, that I could not but gaze upon his fine countenance with a feeling of admiration.
“Will you place this will in the hands of Judge Bigelow?” asked Mrs. Montgomery.
“It will be best for you to do that yourself, madam,” replied Wallingford.
“I will be guided by your judgment in the case, sir. This very day I will send him a note asking an interview.”
“After that, madam,” said Wallingford, rising, “I will be at your service.”
We retired together.
CHAPTER XV
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.
CHAPTER XVI
Spring opened again, and the days glided swiftly on towards summer; and yet, so far as the movements of the executors could be traced, nothing had been done in the work of searching for the heirs. One day, early in June, Mrs. Montgomery sent for Mr. Wallingford. On attending her, she placed in his hands a communication which she had just received. It was from the executors, giving notice in a kind and respectful way, that, for the interest of the legal heirs, and their own security, it would be necessary for them to assume full possession of the mansion and grounds, unless she felt willing to pay a rental that was equivalent to the interest on their value.
“I have expected this,” said the lady; “and, so far from considering myself aggrieved, feel grateful that a quiet residence here has been so long accorded me.”
“You will remove?”
“There is no other course left. My income will not justify a rent of some three thousand dollars.”
“As the property is unproductive, no such rent as that will be required.”
“The letter says, ‘a rental equivalent to the interest on their value.’”
“I will see Judge Bigelow this morning, and ascertain precisely what views are held in regard to this matter.”
They were sitting near one of the parlor windows that looked out upon the portion of the grounds that sloped away towards the stream, that threw its white folds of water from one rocky ledge to another in graceful undulations. As Mr. Wallingford ceased speaking, Mrs. Montgomery turned her head quickly and looked out. The sound of voices had reached her ears. Three men had entered the grounds, and were passing the window at a short distance.
“Who are they?” asked Mr. Wallingford. Then, answering his own question, he said, “Oh, I see; Judge Bigelow, Squire Floyd, and Ralph Dewey, his son-in-law.”
The three men, after going a few hundred rods in the direction of the stream, turned and stood for some minutes looking at the house, and talking earnestly. Dewey appeared to have the most to say, and gesticulated quite freely. Then they moved on to that portion of the stream where the water went gliding down the mimic rapids, and remained there for a considerable time. It was plain that some scheme was in their heads, for they took measurement by pacing off the grounds in various directions; drew together in close conference at times; then separated, each making some examination for himself; and again stood in close deliberation. At last, as if satisfied with their investigations, they returned by way of the mansion, and passed out without calling.
“Put that and that together, and there is a meaning in this procedure beyond the simple rental of the place,” said Wallingford.
“What is your inference?” asked Mrs. Montgomery.
“I have made none as yet,” he replied. “But I will see Judge Bigelow, and have some talk with him. Of course, I can have nothing to say, adverse to a requirement of rent. Executors are responsible for the right use of property in their hands, and must see that it produces an interest, if in a position to pay anything. You do not, of course, wish to occupy the whole of these grounds. It may be, that the use of the house, garden, lawn, and appurtenances, may be secured at a moderate rent. If so, do you wish to remain?”
“I would prefer remaining here, if the rent is within a certain sum.”
“Say three hundred dollars?”
“Yes. If not beyond that sum, I will remain,” replied Mrs. Montgomery.
The interview which Mr. Wallingford held with Judge Bigelow a few hours afterwards, was not satisfactory. The proposition to let Mrs. Montgomery and her daughter occupy the house, separate from the extensive grounds, would not be entertained. It finally came out, that an offer to purchase had been made by the firm of Floyd, Lawson, Lee, & Co., with a view to the erection of extensive mills, and that the executors were going to ask the Court for power to sell, as a handsome sum could now be obtained. It further came out, that in case this power was granted, Mr. Dewey was to reside in S–, to superintend the erection of these mills, and afterwards to join Squire Floyd in the management of both establishments—a consolidation of interests between the mercantile and manufacturing branches being about to take place. The old mansion was to undergo a thorough revision, and become the domicile of the resident partner.
With these plans in view, the executors insisted upon the removal of Mrs. Montgomery; and notice as to time was given, which included three months. Formal application was made to the Court having power in the case, for authority to sell and re-invest. The reasons for so doing were set forth in detail, and involved plausible arguments in favor of the heirs whenever they should be found.
Mr. Wallingford had personal reasons for not wishing to oppose this application. The executors had been his friends from boyhood. Especially towards Judge Bigelow did he entertain sentiments of deep gratitude for his many favors and kindnesses. But his duty, as counsel to Mrs. Montgomery, left him no alternative. She was heir prospective to this property, and he did not believe that the plans in view were best for her interests, in case no other heir was found. So, he went before the Court, and opposed the prayer of the executors. In doing so, he gained their ill-will, but did not succeed in preventing a decree authorizing a sale of the property. Dewey was present, a deeply interested listener to the arguments that were advanced on both sides. After the decision, as Wallingford was passing from the court-room, Dewey, who stood near the door, talking with a gentleman, said, loud enough for the young lawyer to hear him.
“The hound! He got on the wrong scent that time!”
A feeling of indignation stirred in Wallingford’s bosom; but he repressed the bitter feeling, and moved on without giving any intimation that the offensive remark had reached him.
As soon as this decree, authorizing a sale of the property, was made, Mrs. Montgomery began to make preparation for removal. At first she seemed inclined to favor a return to England; but after repeated conferences with Mr. Wallingford, she finally concluded to remain in this country.
Nearly three years had woven their many colored web of events, since Mrs. Montgomery had dropped down suddenly among us like a being from cloudland. The friendly relation established between us in the beginning, had continued, growing more and more intimate. My good Constance found in her a woman after her own heart.
“The days I spend at the Allen House,” she would often say to me, “are days to be remembered. I meet with no one who lives in so pure and tranquil an atmosphere as Mrs. Montgomery. An hour with her lifts me above the petty cares and selfish struggles of this life, and fills my mind with longings after those higher things into which all must rise before that peace comes to the soul which passeth all understanding. I return home from these interviews, happier in mind, and stronger for life’s duties. I do not know any term that so clearly expresses my idea of this lady, as Christian philosopher.”
Occasionally Mrs. Montgomery would pay us a visit; and these also were times treasured up in my wife’s remembrance. I always observed a certain elevation of feeling, a calmer spirit, and a more loving sphere about her after one of these pleasant seasons.
The daughter came very often. Our children loved her almost as much as they did their mother, and she seemed as happy with them, as if they were her own flesh and blood. Agnes, our oldest, now in her eighth year, almost lived at the Allen House. Blanche never came without taking her home with her, and often kept her for two or three days at a time.
Blanche had developed into a young woman of almost queenly beauty; yet her manners retained the easy grace and truthfulness of a child. She did not seem conscious of her remarkable personal attractions, nor of the admiration her presence always extorted. No one could meet her, as a stranger, without feeling that she stood removed from ordinary contact—a being of superior mould with whom familiarity was presumption.
The companion of such a mother, who had with tender solicitude, from childhood upwards, guarded all the avenues of her mind, lest false principles or false views of things should find entrance; and as carefully selected her mental food, in order that there might be health of mind as well as health of body—it was not surprising to find about her a solidity and strength of character, that showed itself beneath the sweet grace of her external life, whenever occasion for their exhibition arose. From her mother she had imbibed a deep religious sentiment; but this did not manifest itself so much in language, as in dutiful acts. I had often occasion to notice, how, almost instinctively, she referred all things to a superintending Providence; and looked into the future, veiled as it is to all eyes, with a confidence that every thing would come out right, beautiful to contemplate. What she meant by right, was something more than is usually included in the words; for she had learned from her wise teacher, that God’s providence disposes the things of this world for every individual in a way that serves best his eternal interests; therefore, what was best in this sense, could not fail to be right.
To our deep regret, Mrs. Montgomery decided to change the place of her residence from S–to Boston. All the reasons that led her to this decision, I was not able to discover. Her life at the Allen House had been quite secluded. She had been courteous to all the people with whom she was brought into any degree of contact, and had reciprocated all friendly visits; but there was a certain distance between her and them, that it seemed impossible for either to pass over. One of my inferences was, that, in removing from the retired old mansion, and taking a modern house, she would stand out more prominently before all eyes than was agreeable to her. Be this as it may, she was in earnest about removing to Boston.
I happened to be present when the announcement of this purposed removal was made to Mr. Wallingford. He had called in, during one of my visits to Mrs. Montgomery, for the transaction of some business.
“To Boston?” he said, in a tone of surprise, and, I thought, disappointment. At the same time I saw his eyes turned towards Blanche.
“Yes; I think it will be best,” she replied. “If I have any interests here, I feel that they are safe in your hands, Mr. Wallingford.”
She leaned a little towards him, and I thought her voice had in it a softer tone than usual. Her eyes looked steadily into his face.
“I will do all that is right, madam.” He spoke a little lower than usual.
“And the right is always the best in any case, Mr. Wallingford,” said she with feeling.
“How soon do you think of removing?” the young man inquired.
“In three or four weeks.”
“So soon.”
Again I noticed that his eyes wandered towards Blanche, who sat close to her mother, with her face bent down and turned partly away.
“There is no reason why we should linger in S–, after all things are ready for removal. It would have suited my feelings and habits of mind to have remained here; but as this cannot be, I prefer going to Boston on more than one account.”
“You will leave behind you many sincere friends,” said Wallingford.
There was more feeling in his voice than usually showed itself; and I again observed that Mrs. Montgomery, in responding to the remark, fixed her eyes upon him steadily, and with, I thought, a look of more than usual interest.
The few weeks of preparation glided swiftly away, and then we parted from friends who had won their way into our own hearts; and whose memory would ever be to us like the fragrance of holy incense. I learned from Mrs. Montgomery, before she left us, during a more confidential talk than usual, that her income was comparatively small, and that the chief part of this, a pension from Government in acknowledgment of her husband’s services, would cease at her death. There was a momentary failure in her voice as she said this, and her eyes turned with the instinct of love towards Blanche.
At her desire, Mr. Wallingford attended them to Boston, and remained away for three or four days. He then returned to S–, bringing with him kind words from the absent ones. The old routine of life went on again, each of us taking up the daily duty; yet I think there was not one of the favored few who had known Mrs. Montgomery and her daughter intimately, that was not stronger to do right in every trial for the memory of these true-hearted strangers—no, friends!