 | CHAPTER II.
THE SUBTLE STEP-MOTHER. The cruiser of the mist |  |
2. CHAPTER II.
THE SUBTLE STEP-MOTHER.
The same evening General Ledyard
reached home. He met Randolph with
the same frank affection with which he
embraced Arthur. He gazed upon the
former with parental pride, as his heart
bore testimony to his manly person and
noble air. He felt proud of him as his
son. These looks of regard were not unnoticed
by Madam Ledyard. They deepened
her hostility to the young man, and
she resolved that she would seek his destruction,
that Arthur might not only share
all his father's love, but be also the heir to
his property. She was not satisfied that
he should inherit one half of it; her
cupidity grasped at the whole. It vexed
her that his father should entertain towards
him the least regard, and she determined
to destroy in his bosom, if possible to do
so, the remaining traces of his love for
him. The two brothers at length retired
bade to each the same kindly good night.
For a few moments after they departed,
both were silent; at length the general
spoke:
“How finely Randolph looks. He is
really a noble-looking young man. I can
see his mother's air about him! He seems
to be very fond of Arthur, and Arthur of
him. I am glad to see it. They have
been much separated, and now they are
getting to the years of manhood, they
should bind their hearts together!”
“It were better they should be as little
with each other as possible,” said Madam
Ledyard imperatively.
“Why so? Nay, I am glad that Randolph
has returned, that Arthur may have
a companion. I have lately reflected a
good deal upon our neglect of him for so
many years, and—”
“Neglect? Pray, sir, how have you
neglected him? Has he not been to the
best schools? Have you ever stinted him
in expenses? Has he not passed through
the university at a cost of full five thousand
dollars out of your purse. Has he not
been richly clothed, had horses, and even
hounds, and all else that a young man
could require? Instead of neglect, you
had better say indulgence, General Ledyard!
If you had taken my advice, and
kept him under more, he would have been
better than he is now!”
“Better? Is he not upright and honorable?”
demanded the general with surprise.
“Yes, I dare say, so far as his word and
money matters are concerned. But —”
“But what, my dear wife! You seem
to mean something, you hesitate to speak!”
“Well, I will not hesitate. Have you
forgotten your love for Arthur?”
“No. He is very dear to me?”
“He is not so dear as this fiery Randolph.”
“Nay, he is more so. This you well
know.”
“Yet you did not speak in praise of
Arthur as he went out, but must commend
your eldest son's looks and air!”
“Because I have not seen Randolph in
eighteen months before, and the change in
him has been striking; while it is not
three months since I was last at home and
saw Arthur. Besides he is always beautiful
in my eyes. To praise him is to waste
words!”
“I am glad to hear you say so!”
“The boy is very dear to me! yes, far
dearer than Randolph, who, as you say, is
over fiery.”
“Randolph never loved or respected
me!”
“For this I do not like him, as you well
know.”
“But I should not mind this so much, if
he loved our dear child!”
“Loved Arthur?”
“Yes.”
“They are very fondly attached to one
another!”
“It is only on one side. Arthur in his
confidence and good temper, idolizes his
unworthy brother. Randolph only assumes
a love he never did feel, and never
can feel!”
“Is this possible?” demanded General
Ledyard with surprise.
Yes, you know how Randolph has been
put away, though the eldest, because I
would not have my child to be domineered
over by him. Well, now that he is of age,
and can observe for himself, he understands
his position, and feels that Arthur
is preferred before him in both of our
affections. His spirit is goaded by this reflection,
and he has resolved that he will
avenge himself upon his half-brother for
his fancied wrongs. He therefore feigns
a love for him, humors him, flatters him,
and in every way tries to ingratiate himself
into his favor. His object is wholly
to lull suspicion both in him and us, and
by-and-by take his opportunity to put him
out of the way by a sudden death, that
shall seem to the world to be accidental!”
“Can this horrible idea have ever been
rising from his chair in great amazement.
“Yes, and he only waits a suitable occasion
for accomplishing his purpose
against the unsuspecting boy!”
“If I could believe this—if I had evidence
of this fact—but, it is impossible!
I cannot believe Randolph capable of any
thing so wicked!”
“You do not know the young man so
well as I do!” answered the step-mother
very decidedly.
“What proof have you?”
“A mother's watchful fears. I have
observed him closely. He tempts him to
gun with him, to boat with him, to ride
unbroken horses, so that he may in this
manner have his death compassed without
suspicion to himself!”
“It is incredible. What can he gain
by it? Simple revenge, because his brother
is most loved, could never arm him
with such deadly intent against him. I
have heard of one brother slaying another
who stood in the way of his patrimony.
But Randolph can have no such motive!”
“Randolph is avaricious.”
“Avaricious? He is the last person
—”
“Listen to me,” interrupted the lady in
an imperative manner; “he is avaricious.
He knows that but for your second marriage,
he would have been your sole heir.
He now has hopes of but half of that
which he deems his own. He is, therefore,
hostile to me, and full of bitter hatred,
disguised under the cloak of affection
towards Arthur. By removing him, he
becomes your sole heir!”
General Ledyard shook his head. He
remained painfully thoughtful.
“I do not see that even this is sufficient
motive that so great a murder should be
done. I never suspected before, that
Randolph was avaricious. Yet it may be
so. But even the motive is not sufficient!”
“Love and jealousy added to avarice, I
doubt not, you will hold as strong enough
motives!”
“Yes! but —”
“Randolph Arthur are both admirers
of the beautiful Olive Oglethorpe. Arthur
is of course, preferred to his brother.
Randolph covers his disappointment and
jealousy under the mantle of fraternal affection,
but only to strike a dagger to his
heart from the covert of its folds!”
“What you say may then possibly be
true! But if he is a youth of such dark
passions, who is to blame? Has he not
been banished by us beyond our care and
counsels?”
“Not a word, general! I am surprised
you should speak thus upon a matter long
since perfectly understood between us. I
will not hear one word in defence of Randolph.
He must be expelled from your
roof ere another sun sits, or I and my child
will go!”
“Well, well, if he is the person you represent
him —”
“If he is! Do you question my word,
General Ledyard?”
“No, my dear, not your word, but the
facts!”
“The facts are as I have told you. Do
you wish to delay till Arthur is brought
in and laid at your feet a corpse?”
“I will call Randolph, and have speech
with him forthwith. I will learn from his
own lips —”
“Do you think he will confess? You
are certainly very simple, General Ledyard,
to think he will be foolish enough to criminate
himself!”
“Well, then to-morrow I will send him
away. He shall be supplied with money,
and depart on his travels!”
“He shall not have money; you have
thrown away enough upon him. You will
impoverish Arthur by this extravagant expenditure
of your income!”
“To-morrow I will see what must be
done. I am not very well just now. The
wound I received is not yet healed, and
troubles me when I am at all excited.
To-morrow I shall be rested, and then this
matter shall be settled to your satisfaction.
Yet I cannot think Randolph —”
“Don't talk any more, general, it may
make your wound worse. Let it pass till
to-morrow. I know then you will do just
as I wish!”
“Yes, I have always sought your happiness,
Ann, in preference to my own!”
The next morning came, and brought
with it illness to the misguided father.
The relation he had received from his
wife of Randolph's character, had filled
him with grief and indignation; while he
was troubled with fears for the safety of
Arthur, whom he loved as Jacob loved
Benjamin. He had never ceased to entertain
a certain degree of affection for Randolph;
but it was not to be weighed with
his tender regard for his youngest born.
But when he beheld his elder son in the
full stature and beauty of manhood, then
his heart expanded with paternal pride,
and as he gazed on him, he felt towards
him something of that parental emotion
which had so long lain dormant in his
breast. It was this awakening sensibility
that the artful and observing woman had
grappled with in its first motions.
The agitation of mind which the intelligence
of Randolph's wicked purposes
towards his brother, produced in him, with
the irritation of his unhealed wound,
brought on a fever of an alarming character.
The third day it reached its crisis.
The symptoms, however, promised unfavorably,
and on the fourth day his physicians
pronounced him doubtful. It was
late at night. The attendants had been
sent out of the chamber. Madam Ledyard
alone remained. She bent over the face
of the invalid. He slept but with disturbed
slumber. At length he awakened and
beheld her.
“Ann, I feel that I am near my end.
Send to me my sons!” he said feebly.
She left the chamber. In the anteroom
sat two men, one of whom held papers
in his hand. As she came near them,
one of them rose and said,
“We are both here, Madam. How is
the general, now?”
“Failing fast,” answered the lady, put
ting to her eyes a cambric hankerchief.
“Have you drawn up the will?”
“Yes, madam. Shall I read it to you?”
“If you please. I would like to know
if it is as my husband directed.”
“It is as you dictated. I have drawn it
up word for word, save a blank for the
name.”
“That is as I wished. I will listen, if
you will read rapidly.”
The lawyer, in a low voice, run over
the testamentary document to her.
“It is all right. Remain here until I
return.”
The subtle woman then departed, and
crossed the hall towards Arthur's room.
In the passage Randolph met her.
“How fares it with my father, madam?”
he inquired, in a voice of deep sympathy
and looks of filial anxiety.
“He sleeps, and must not be disturbed.
The sound of your footsteps annoy him.
You will show your regard for him most
by keeping your chamber.”
Randolph made no reply, but softly retiring
to his apartment, closed the door. She
waited until she saw it shut, and then entered
the room occupied by Arthur. He
was asleep.
“My son, rise up quickly and follow
me! Your father asks for you. Make no
no noise, nor delay!”
Arthur followed her across the hall, and
past the two men, whose presence he regarded
with surprise.
“They are the lawyer and a witness
only, my son.”
“Why are they here?”
“Your father wishes to make a will.”
“There is no need. My brother and
myself share equally his estate.”
“Hist! do not speak! Enter with me!”
Arthur beheld his father lying like one
just ready to depart. He approached and
knelt by his bed-side, and bathed his hand
in tears.
“Where is your brother?”
“He said he cared not to see you,”
quickly answered Madam Ledyard.
“Randolph said so?” repeated Arthur,
with surprise and incredulity.
“Hush, boy! Do not excite your father
at such a time!”
“Sent my son such a message to me?”
“He did, general, and very haughtily
too!”
“Let me see him. He could not have
understood—he could not have been himself,”
cried Arthur, advancing towards the
door.
“Nay, if you leave him you will miss
your father's blessing. Randolph sent the
message by me. Kneel, my son, and receive
your father's dying benediction!
You see how low he is; his minutes are
already numbered.”
Arthur knelt again by the pillow. The
dying soldier placed his hand upon his
head, and blessed him with a few earnest
words of prayer. When he had ended,
Arthur embraced him tenderly, and then
would have hastened from the room to seek
his brother; for his soul was shocked by
the report of his conduct, and he would
see for himself why he should thus treat
his father's dying request.”
“Remain with me, Arthur. Would you
leave me alone with the dying!”
The young man could not answer. He
stood in silence gazing upon his father
through his tears. Madam Ledyard went
out and returned with the two men.
“Who are these?” asked the general,
looking upon them.
“They are the attorney and witness.”
“Oh, yes! I promised to make a will!”
“You promised me this morning, dear
husband, to make a will, leaving me sole
executrix. But such is not the will you
now must make.” (Here Arthur stole
unperceived from the chamber.) “Since
the treatment you have just received from
Randolph, you should exclude him from
all possession in the inheritance.”
“He deserves it,” answered the general
with emphasis. “Had the will been so
drawn up, I would have signed it!”
“It is so drawn up!” said the woman,
with a look of triumph. I knew well how
Randolph would treat you, and I had the
will worded in favor of Arthur, the child
who has truly been a child to you!”
“Let me see it! gasped the general.
“Give me a pen! Support me, Ann! The
boy shall be punished! I— I— believe
all you have told me! He shall be cut off
with a shil—shilling!”
The pen was dipped in ink, and placed
in his fingers. With a firm hand, and
with a boldness that surprised those present,
he affixed his signature to the instrument.
The pen, as he formed the last
letter, dropped from his grasp, his head
sank back heavily upon the pillow, and his
spirit had fled ere the ink with which he
had traced his son's sentence upon the
parchment, was dry.
The younger brother, ignorant of this
transaction making him sole heir to the
exclusion of his brother, had left the
chamber when he saw his mother engaged,
and hastened to his apartment. He found
Randolph up, and anxiously waiting for
some intelligence from his father; for
hearing his brother's step, he had softly
opened his door, supposing it to be a servant.”
“Do you come from him, Arthur?” he
asked eagerly.
“Yes; but —”
“And how fares he now? I would hasten
to him, but your mother bade me keep
away, saying he must not be disturbed.”
“When did she say so?” demanded Arthur,
with an energy that surprised him.
“Not twenty minutes ago!”
“Did she not call you to his bedside,
and did you not send him a message that
you would not come?”
“Can it be possible you believe I did?”
“Yet such was the word my mother
brought to our father. He sent her for
both of us. She returned with me, saying
you refused to come.”
“It is false! false as —. But I must
be patient with this wicked woman! Arthur,
if you will believe me, learn that no
such message has been brought me from
my father, else would I have flown on
in the hall some twenty minutes ago, when
she came through. She saw me, and reproved
me for being up and disturbing the
house when my father would sleep. I returned
to my room, and heard her approach
your door, and soon after, partly opening
my door, I saw you follow her forth from
your room! As I hope to live hereafter,
I had no message from my father, and sent
him back no such answer!”
As he spoke, he covered his face with
his hand, and the tears forced themselves
through his fingers. Arthur stood mute
with astonishment. He idolized his mother;
he believed her the very soul of
truth and goodness; he thought her perfect
in every thing: and all this was she
to him! He was wholly blind to her true
character. Yet now she seemed to have
spoken falsely of Randolph. Which was
he to believe, his brother or his mother?
Randolph's words rung with the rich
metal of truth and honesty. Could it be
possible his mother had told that which
was false. He hesitated.
“I see you doubt my word, Arthur. Be
it so!” said Randolph, bitterly. “But it
matters not. You say my father sent for
me! I will go to him, and thus give the
lie to thy mother's foul report!”
As he spoke, he stalked proudly, and
with an air of grief and defiance through
the hall, in the direction of his father's
chamber.
| CHAPTER II.
THE SUBTLE STEP-MOTHER. The cruiser of the mist | |