CHAPTER VIII. – The Dashing Dragoon
COLONEL DICK IVEY was a bachelor and a man of vast wealth.
He had been an only son, and the idol of his boyhood life had been his sister, two years his junior.
Their parents had been wealthy, and they dated their ancestry back for many generations, and the father of the young Richard had been anxious to have his son become a soldier, and so got for him a cadetship at West Point.
A handsome, dashing youth, generous to a fault, Dick Ivey had won the hearts of professors and comrades alike, and none of the latter had envied him the first honours of his class when he had graduated, while the instructors had said they were well won and deserved.
There were four persons present at the graduating exercises that Dick was most desirous of pleasing, and these were his parents, his sister, and her best friend, the young cadet's lady-love.
But, in spite of his honours won, the fickle young lady-love had flirted with the honoured cadet, refused his proffered love, and became infatuated, as it were, with a brother cadet of her old lover.
It cut Dick Ivey to the heart, but he nursed his sorrow in silence, uttered no complaint, and went to the border with his regiment, to soon win distinction as a daring officer.
The fickle maiden meanwhile married the successful rival, and two years after died, it was said, of a broken heart.
The news came to Dick Ivey that his sister was to marry, and when he heard whom it was that was to be her husband, he obtained a furlough and started for his home to warn her against the man who had broken the heart of his old lady-love.
But, wounded on the way, in a fight with Indians, he was laid up for weeks, and arrived too late, for his sister had married the man whom he now hated with all his soul.
Soon after the Mexican war broke out, and as the American army crossed the Rio Grande, Dick Ivey met his old rival, and learned of his sister's death.
Soon after a letter came to him, written by his sister, and given to some faithful servant to mail.
It told of her sorrows, her sufferings, the cruelties of the man she had loved, and that she too was dying of a broken heart.
At once did Dick Ivey seek the man who had wrecked the lives of two whom he had so dearly loved, and what he said was terse, to the point, and in deadly earnest. It was:
"You know my cause of quarrel with you, sir, and that now is no time to settle it, for we belong to our country.
"But, the day this war ends, if you and I are alive, you shall meet me on the field of honour, and but one of us shall ever leave it alive."
And all through the war did Dick Ivey win fame, and he became a hero in the eyes of his gallant comrades.
At last the war ended, the City of Mexico was in the hands of General Scott, and the Daring Dragoons, commanded by Colonel Ivey, were ordered home.
Instantly, he sought his rival, and reminded him of his words at the breaking out of hostilities, and the two met in personal combat upon the duelling field.
It was a duel with swords, and each man meant that it should be to the death, that no mercy should be shown, and it could end in but one way – the death of one, or both.
It was fought through to the bitter end, and Dick Ivey left his hated enemy dead upon the field.
Resigning his commission, he returned to his home in the State of Mississippi, and yet he remained there but a short while, for the spirit of unrest was upon him, and the papers teeming with stories of his career, he sailed for foreign lands and remained abroad for years.
Again, he returned to America and settled in an elegant bachelor-home upon a fashionable avenue in New York city, a man of noble impulses, yet one upon whose life a shadow had fallen, and who carried in his heart a skeleton of bitter memories.
Such was the man who had found Will Raymond's lost gold-piece, and his career, from a cadet at West Point, to his living a luxurious bachelor life in New York, Mrs. Raymond read to her children that Thanksgiving night after he had left; for the distinguished soldier had begged an invitation to eat his Thanksgiving turkey that day in the humble home of the woman he had so strangely met, and who, by some strange accident, had pasted in her scrap-book his picture, as a young soldier, and the scraps of his life history as she had then read them, never dreaming that she would meet the hero with the dark, handsome face, dressed in his gorgeous Dragoon uniform.
To her children then, that Thanksgiving night, after he had departed, Mrs. Raymond read the history of the Dashing Dragoon, and he became to Will and Pearl a hero also in their eyes, and warm was the welcome that he received when he came the next day to tell Mrs. Raymond that he had adopted all of them as protegées, and meant to take them to a pleasant home and send the children to school.
This promise he kept, for he would not be said nay, and Mrs. Raymond, grown almost happy-faced with the change, moved to a pleasant little home in the upper part of the city, and Will and Pearl daily attended the most fashionable schools in the metropolis.
Months thus passed away, Colonel Ivey taking his Sunday dinner with the mother and her children at first, and then calling oftener and oftener, until one night he called Will and Pearl to him and told them that he had asked their mother to become his wife, and that she had said that she would.
It made them happy, for they were glad to see joy in the face of their dearly loved mother, and soon after Mrs. Ruby Raymond became Mrs. Richard Ivey.
It was a quiet wedding in the cosey home, and then into the grand mansion of Colonel Ivey the mother and her children moved, and sunshine seemed to brighten all their pathway through life; but alas! who can see into the future, who can tell how far beyond the sunshine lie the shadows that must fall upon our lives, shutting out all brightness, encircling them with gloom as black as the grave, and far more cruel.
CHAPTER IX. – Phantoms of the Past
IT was a pleasant night and Mrs. Richard Ivey sat alone in the handsome library of her elegant country house on the sea-shore, for it was the summer time.
Her face had lost its look of haunting care, and her cheeks glowed with health, and she appeared to be happy once more.
Still there were phantoms of the past that would rise before her and they would not go down at her bidding.
She recalled her first love, noble-hearted, honest Kent Lomax, from whom she had fled to become the wife of a man who had proved himself a wretch, a villain.
She recalled her happy home, her loving parents, and wondered if they had ever forgiven her, for she had not heard one word from them since her flight, and she knew not the scene that had followed, when Kent Lomax had met Schuyler Cluett upon the field of honour, and had fallen before the bullet of the man she had married.
She had told Colonel Ivey all before she had married him, and he had but loved her the more for her confession and the sorrows she had known.
He had told her, too, that in the pleasant fall of the year, they would all go down to Maryland on a visit, and see the old home and her parents, and ask that she might be forgiven.
As she sat alone in her home she was pondering over the past.
Her husband had gone off on a business trip to the far West, Will was away upon a yachting cruise, for he had become a skilful and devoted yachtsman, his step-father having presented him with a beautiful craft, and Pearl was spending the night with a little playmate who lived near.
Presently a footfall was heard in the hallway, and Mrs. Ivey supposed it was the butler, about to close up the house for the night, so that it did not disturb her, but she started when the words fell upon her ears:
"Mrs. Ivey, I believe?"
"Oh, Mercy!"
The cry came like a groan of anguish from the lips of the woman, as she turned and beheld the form of a man standing before her.
He had entered the mansion unseen, had walked into the library unannounced, and was within a few paces of her.
His appearance was that of a gentleman, and yet one whose life was a fast one.
He was well dressed, in fact almost flashily attired, wore a diamond in his front shirt, another upon the little finger of his left hand, and a heavy watch chain crossed his vest front.
He appeared to be a man of forty, and his face was handsome, his eyes piercing, yet a certain cold look, added to recklessness and a cynical smile were not prepossessing.
"You did not expect to see me again, Ruby?" he said in a voice that was tinged with a sneer.
"I believed you dead," she whispered, for she seemed scarcely able to articulate.
"Yes, for so I sent you word."
"You sent me word," she said repeating his words.
"Yes, I got a pal of mine to come and see you, and tell you how I had been smashed up in a railway accident.
"The smash-up was true, and I had my leg broken, and lay for weeks in agony; but I got well, and here I am."
"Oh why did you do me this cruel wrong?" she groaned.
"To accomplish just what you have done."
"And that is – "
"That, believing me dead you might marry, for I knew your beauty would turn the head of some old millionaire fool as it has done."
"And this was your plot?"
"Certainly," and he took a seat near her.
"What is your purpose?" she asked in a voice scarcely audible.
"Not to claim my wife, I assure you."
"I would die before I would again live with you; but it breaks my heart to feel that I have committed this crime against the noble man that made me, as he supposed, his wife, for we both felt that you were dead."
"And wished me so?" he said with a sneer.
"Indeed I did, though Heaven forgive me for telling the truth."
"Well, you see I am by no means a dead man, and as I have no desire to die of starvation I have come to you."
"To me?"
"Yes."
"And why?"
"You are rich."
"I am worth nothing, only such as my husband gives me."
"Well, you'll have to strike him for a loan on my account."
"What do you mean?"
"I need money."
"I can't help you."
"You must."
"I will not."
"Listen to me, Ruby, and don't be silly.
"You have broken the laws of the land, in marrying Colonel Ivey when you had a husband living."
"I believed you dead."
"That does not excuse you, and besides, I can bring up witnesses to swear that you knew me to be alive!"
"Oh, monster!"
"I can do it, and that will prove your guilt, so you see, you are wholly in my power."
"What do you wish of me?"
"I wish, as I said, some money, and I will give you a reasonable time to get it for me.
"If I get it I will go far away and never appear again to disturb you; but, if I do not receive it, I will simply make my presence known to your husband and destroy you."
"It will but drive me again into poverty and wretchedness, for I will not live a lie to that good man, and shall tell him all."
"You are a fool, Ruby."
"I was a fool when I became your wife.
"I did not love you, though I believed that I did, and I soon found out that it was but a fascination, such as a serpent has over a bird.
"I fled from my happy home, I deserted a true, honourable man, and became your wife, not to be acknowledged as such, for you hid me away in a little village, while you led a life of dissipation in Philadelphia, still believed to be a bachelor by your friends.
"In that lonely life I lived, and my children were born, and, with no friend near, mine was a wretched existence.
"Deserted by you, with my children, I went to New York to earn my living, and thither you followed me, and I had to give you all that I had saved up, and you gambled it away.
"Again deserted by you, I sought to hide away where you could not find me, and I became prosperous, in a small way, by selling the work of my hands; but again you found me, took my little earnings and went West, and soon after I heard of your death.
"Believe me, Schuyler Cluett, wicked as it was, I rejoiced that I was free, for I believed that I was.
"And now you come again, when I felt that my life was not all shadow, and you demand that I rob my husband to help you."
"I am your husband, Ruby, and I need help, and will have it."
"Not from me, sir."
"Yes, from you."
"I say no! – for I will tell all, and defy you."
"I will first see him, tell him who I am, and he will pay me to keep quiet, for the man loves you.
"For the sake of yourself, and of your children, you had best decide to give me the money, I ask."
She was silent, and lost in deep thought for full a minute, while he watched her face narrowly.
At last she said:
"Schuyler Cluett, you know that I would give much to have you never cross my path again; but your coming has unnerved me, and I am not myself.
"If I give you money, without telling my husband all, it would but be robbing him to pay you.
"If I tell him, I believe he would pay you as you demand; but yet, with you alive, and he knowing it, I could not remain here as his wife.
"So go from me, and I will decide when I can collect my thoughts."
"I will give you just one week."
"It is long enough, for I will not need so much time; but do not come here."
"No, I will give you an address in the city that will reach me, and you can appoint a place of meeting when you can give me the money."
"If I decide to do so."
"Oh, no fear about that, for you will decide in my favour, and for your children for it would be a big scandal, you know, to come out; that – but I'll not remind you, so here is my address, and I'll bid you goodnight, Mrs. Ivey," and he left the room as silently as he had entered it, and the poor woman was again alone with the phantoms of the past.
CHAPTER X. – Deserted
COLONEL RICHARD IVEY came back to his elegant home, from his trip to the West.
He had telegraphed to have the carriage meet him at the railway station, but to his surprise it was not there, and so he sprang into a village hack and drove homeward.
It was dark ere he reached the mansion and his surprise was greater when he saw no lights to greet him.
"Why Ruby must have gone up to the city; but she wrote nothing of intending to do so, in her last letter," he said, as he sprang out of the vehicle and paid the driver.
Ascending to the piazza he rang the bell, and soon a light flashed within the hallway, and the butler opened the door.
"Well, Richard, what is the matter, that I receive such a bleak welcome?" he said.
"The madam is away, sir, and has been for some days; but she left a letter for you, sir, and it's on your table with the mail.
"I'll have lights, sir, at once."
The mansion was soon lighted up, and supper ordered for the master, who went into his library and took up the numerous letters that had arrived for him during his absence of several weeks.
All were thrown aside excepting one.
That one bore no stamp or post-mark, and was from his wife.
Hastily he broke the seal, and seeing that it was several pages in length, he threw himself into his easy-chair beneath the lamp.
As he read, he uttered a sound very like a moan, and, strong man though he was, his hands trembled as he held the letter.
When he had finished he slowly re-read it, and then bending his head upon his hands he sat thus, the picture of silent, manly grief.
What he read was as follows:
}
"Soldier's Rest,"September 1st, 18 – .
"Dare I, in this letter that I now write you, address you as my heart would dictate and call you my own dear Richard? – for such you are to me and ever will be, though a cruel blow causes me to fly from you.
"The other night I sat alone in your library in your pet chair.
"Will was away in his yacht, on a cruise for a few days, and Pearl was spending the night with a little girl friend.
"Suddenly a visitor entered the library.
"To my horror, it was one I deemed dead, years ago!
"But no not dead, alas! but alive, cynical, sneering, cold-hearted, cruel he stood before me.
"Dressed well, wearing diamonds, yet a begger for gold.
"Need I tell you that it was my husband?
"Need I tell you that he had deceived me in his death, and told me that he had purposely done so, that I might, by my beauty – such were his words – win a rich husband and then he could force from me gold to keep my secret?
"Such was his mission to me, and he demanded a large sum that he might dissipate it in his luxurious life.
"He promised to go from me, and never return if I gave him the sum he demanded.
"If I refused, he said that he would go to you, and you, for honour's sake, to save scandal, would buy him off.
"Again, he said he would tell you that I knew he was alive and yet married you.
"So, in my grief, I begged him to give me time for thought, though I then knew what my course would be.
"He gave me a week to consider, and, confident that I would yield, he left.
"He judged me by his own guilty heart and felt safe in his threats to divulge the secret of his being still alive.
"When he was gone I fell into a swoon upon the floor, and there Richards found me when he came to put out the lights.
"The maid revived me, and I passed a night of bitter agony; but I was decided as to what I should do, and I told the servants that I had heard bad news, and must go away, perhaps to be gone a long time.
"I did not care to say more, that I would never return, for your sake.
"Then I began to get ready, and that day Pearl returned home.
"The next day Will came back from his cruise and I told my children that we must go.
"I told them that it was no quarrel, no wrong of one of us against the other, only duty forced me away.
"I had in my purse something over a hundred dollars, which you had given me for charity, you remember, and I devoted it to charity to myself, for we go as poor as we came to you otherwise, and it is because I would not feel right in taking from you one dollar when I know that man lives.
"To-morrow we leave for New York in the early train, and I shall go to your city mansion and get our old traps there, and place in the Safe Deposit the jewellery and other valuables you have given to us.
"There is one souvenir I keep, the ring you and I supposed to be our wedding ring.
"That I shall wear, though the lie stares me in the face; but it was placed there in honour in so doing.
"Where I go you will not know, for I shall not wish you to find me, which your heart, I feel, will tempt you to do.
"I go my way as before, to earn our bread by my handiwork, and I am strong now and in good health, after the happiness that has come into my life, and I can bear much.
"Heaven bless you, will be my prayer and the prayer of my children, Richard, for you have been to us all in all, and to give you up is a pang that cuts deep into the hearts of us all.
"Farewell, Richard, and ever believe in the love, though it be in shackles, of
"Yours unhappily,"Ruby Cluett."
Such was the letter that Colonel Dick Ivey read, and it was no wonder that he felt deeply the blow that had fallen upon him.
For a long time he remained in silent grief; and then he raised his bowed head, and already suffering had made his stern, handsome face haggard.
"She is as pure as an angel, and she shall not leave me.
"I will find her, cost what it may, and to-morrow I will go to the city, and set the wheels of the Secret Service in motion to find her and her children.
"Then she shall get a divorce from this wretch, for, innocent thing that she is, she does not know that she can readily do so, under the plea of desertion.
"If not, why, I'll have to make a widow of her and then marry her;" and the face of the colonel proved that he meant what he said, while, after a moment, he added:
"It strikes me that a man who has been such a wretch as this fellow is, has done that which would place him behind prison bars, and perhaps stretch his neck, so I'll put the detectives upon his track, and see what they can discover of his past career;" and with this determination Colonel Ivey sought the supper room, now cheered with the thought that his separation from those he loved was but temporary.
CHAPTER XI. – A Rebuff
SCHUYLER CLUETT waited patiently for the time allowed his wife, in which to write to him, to pass, and no letter came.
What could it mean? Had she lost his address? Did she intend to defy him?
These questions chased each other through his mind over and over again, and he could find no answer.
But he waited another day beyond the allotted time, and then determined to solve the mystery.
To do this he would go to the house of Colonel Ivey.
He first sought the residence of the colonel in the city, and found it closed up.
This proved that the family had not returned to town.
So he started for the country, and in due time reached the station near Soldier's Rest, as the home of the colonel was called.
He took a hack and started for the villa, leaving the vehicle at the gate, while he advanced on foot, having told the driver to wait for him.
It was a lordly place, a grand mansion, surrounded by spacious, ornamental grounds on one side, flower gardens in the rear, a lawn in the front, and a park upon the other side.
The grounds sloped down to the walk, and there were pleasure boats to invite to a sail or a row.
The view from the piazzas was beautiful in the extreme, and altogether a more charming country home could not be found than was Soldier's Rest.
"A place for a gentleman of my taste to live, this," said Schuyler Cluett, as he walked up the grand path to the mansion.
"By jove! a bright idea strikes me, and I hope I am not too late to carry it out.
"Let me see: if I should keep in the back-ground, that is, out of sight, and get rid of this gallant colonel, that is, let him meet with some accident to cause his death, why my wife would be his heiress, of course.
"Then I could come in, and after half a year's mourning I could force her to marry me, for appearances' sake, and I'd have all.
"I was a trifle too fast in appearing as I did, and not thinking of this little game before.
"Now it may be too late, she may have told the colonel about me, as she has not appeared, and he may simply back her up in getting a divorce from me, which she can do.
"Well, here I am, and there he is.
"Now I must put a bold face upon the matter and survey the fort to see if I can take it."
He had dressed himself up in his best style, and Colonel Ivey, seeing a well-dressed stranger approaching, arose to meet him.
The colonel had that noon returned from the city, where he could find no clue to the where abouts of Ruby and her children; but he had set the best detectives on the track and was hopeful of soon discovering them.
Bowing to the visitor, the colonel advanced to meet him.
Schuyler Cluett bowed politely and asked:
"Is this the home of Colonel Ivey?"
"It is, sir, and I am Richard Ivey, at your service.
"Be seated, pray, or will you enter the house?"
"Thank you, sir; my name is Cluett, sir, and I am an old friend of your wife, and have called to see her, being in the neighbourhood."
"Indeed, sir; I am really glad to meet you, Mr. Cluett, so be seated, pray, for it is pleasanter here than indoors."
Schuyler Cluett sat down. But he hardly knew what to say.
It seemed evident, from the colonel's manner, he thought, that his wife had kept her secret, for he did not appear to be known.
"I hope Mrs. Ivey is well, sir?" he volunteered.
"Well, sir, as to that I cannot just say, as she is not at home; but I hope so."
"Indeed! she is absent then?"
"Yes, sir, she has gone far away, she and her children, and, as you are an old friend of hers, I do not mind telling you that it is on account of a grand scamp whom she once married."
"No!"
"Yes, Mr. Cluett; she was infatuated in her girlhood by some wretch whom she ran off with and married, and soon found him out to be a worthless vagabond, a gambler and all that was bad.
"He robbed her, deserted her, and sent her word, through a confederate in guilt, that he had been killed, and so believing him to be dead, she married me.
"But he turned up during my absence West, tried to get her to rob me, to pay him off from telling the secret of his still being alive, and she, too noble to do so, fled from my home, from me, and has gone far away, while I am left alone."
"But you can find her, sir?" eagerly asked Cluett.
"Yes, I hope to do so, for, I'll tell you a secret."
"Yes, Colonel Ivey."
"I have the detectives at work, tracking down this rascally husband, and I have found out enough about him already, to give her a divorce, by sending him to State's Prison."
"Oh, sir, can you do this?" and Schuyler Cluett turned deadly pale.
"Oh yes, I hope to; and more, for I don't mind telling you, my dear Mr. Cluett, as you are my wife's friend, but you must keep the secret, that there was a mysterious murder some time ago, for the murderer cannot be found.
"But this husband – I do wish I could recall his name – "
"Raymond, sir."
"Yes, Raymond, that's the name, thank you.
"Well, he was in the vicinity when this murder was committed and I think men can be bribed to swear that he was guilty, you know and I'll give a fortune to buy a jury up, so that he can be hanged, and – but why do you rise, sir, for surely you are not going?" and the colonel looked up with surprise, as Cluett arose as though to depart.
"Yes, sir, I must go, for I just recall an important case I have to try, as I am a lawyer, colonel, and your story of your wife's former husband recalled it to my memory."
"But you will remain my guest, sir, for the night at least, and I'll go up to the city with you in the morning, as I will have this rascal arrested at once, and I think the law will make short work of him."
"It should, sir, it should, and I have no doubt it will; but good-by, Colonel Ivey, good-by, sir," and Schuyler Cluett hastened away from the mansion, reached his waiting hack, and taking out his watch said:
"Driver you have just twenty minutes to catch the Express up to the city, and if you do it I'll give you a ten-dollar bill extra."
"I'll do it, sir," replied the driver, and the horses were sent along the highway at a pace that surprised them, as their usual gait was a jog.
And looking after the rapidly disappearing vehicle, Colonel Ivey muttered to himself, as his face wore a grim smile:
"Well, I think I frightened him so that he'll hunt a hiding-place in the far West, and I only wish I did know that he was deserving of the penitentiary; but I'll telegraph the detective chief to have men at the station to meet him and see just where he goes, and what he does, so as to be prepared for him should he remain in New York," and entering his library Colonel Ivey wrote a long dispatch to the chief of the detective service, telling him to have men on the watch for Schuyler Cluett, giving a full description of the man, and by what train to expect him.
This message was then sent post-haste to the station-agent to rush through with all dispatch, and Colonel Ivey felt relieved at having, as he believed, got rid of Ruby's rascally husband, from whom she could now easily get a divorce, under the plea of desertion and non-support for years.