Mliss :: :: University of Virginia Library

Metaphorically speaking, Dr. Fox sat the next
morning in the bosom of his family. The family
consisted of a wife, a son and a daughter.
The wife was a pale, delicate little woman, distinguished
rather for domestic virtues than for
intellectual attainments. She was known among
her intimate friends as the woman who believed
in her husband. We are not to infer that women
of similar faith are rare, but that Mrs. Fox
was prominent in the possession of this virtue.
She quoted her husband as her husband quoted
the bible. Probably it had never occurred to her
that he might err in opinion or in act. The
suggestion would certainly have met no encouragement.
Her gentle disposition induced her to
regard those who did disagree with him with
Christian forbearance, and to give due weight to
the fact that people do not enjoy equal advantages
of arriving at the truth.

The son was a tall, ungainly youth of twenty.
If it were permissible to criticise the operations
of nature, we might say that in his formation
attention to details had been sacrificed to the
purpose of substantial superstruction. There was a
general appearance of largeness, most remarkable, however,
in the extremities. He was one of those youths
for whom a generous diet might be safely recommended.
Should nature ever determine to fill him out he
might become presentable. As he was at the time he
is presented to the reader, his personal attractions
were not of a character to command admiration.
There was, however, in his bearing and in the expression
of his countenance, an undefinable something
which indicated a tendency to fastness. His clothes
were cut with a feeble imitation of the nobby style.
One could but feel that with a little encouragement he
would develop into a rather loud young man. Circumstances,
however, were against him. A clergyman's
son does not enjoy that impunity for social improprieties
which enables other young men to achieve
notority in youth. He inherits from his father the
right to be an example to his generation. Ladies accept
him by virtue of his parentage as a harmless lamb
whom they may pet with safety. Young Fox made a
compromise between inclination and circumstances.
He accepted respectability as a garment too serviceable
to be discarded, but not so essential to happiness that
it might not be laid aside on occasion.

In the formation of the daughter, Miss Kitty Fox,
nature had followed a different plan. Miss Kitty was
not large but exquisitely moulded. In growth she
had yielded readily to the chisel of a finer sculptor.
She inherited her mother's petite form, with her father's
generous temperament. A year and a half younger
than her brother, the sweep and contour of her person
indicated a ripe maturity. She had the low brow,
pale complexion and dreamy eyes which Italian painters
have transmitted as characteristics of a type of women

more remarkable for subtle force of character
than domestic virtues. An experienced parent would
have been admonished, by her shifting, treacherous
eyes and drooping, sensuous mouth, that a vigilant
husband would conduce to her present peace and future
security.

The family had just finished breakfast when a carriage
stopped at the door. Miss Kitty had vacated her
seat and took a position at the window, the blinds so
arranged that she could enjoy that darling privilege of
young girls—see (upon occasion) without being seen.
She now saw a handsome young man alight from the
carriage and ascend the steps. The door bell rang.
Miss Kitty was suddenly considerate of the fact that
the maid was busy with household duties, and answered
the bell herself. The gentleman saw at a glance that
she was not a servant, and raised his hat as he inquired
if he could see Dr. Fox. Miss Kitty thought he
could. The gentleman handed her his card, which
the young lady glanced at while conveying it to her
parental parent. On the card was printed, in plain
substantial letters, the name, “John Gray.”

A slight nervous tremor passed over the rubicund
visage of the clergyman as he read the name. He directed
his daughter to show the gentleman into his
study, and added that in future she might leave the
bell to be answered by the servant.

Five minutes later Dr. Fox entered his study. A
man, who seemed to him to be tall and muscular, rose
from a chair and bowed as the clergyman entered.

“The Rev. Dr. Fox, I believe,” said the gentleman
The Rev. Dr. Fox bowed assent.

“My name is John Gray. The name, however, may
not inform you that I am the guardian of a young lady
at present residing in the family of the late Mr. Reuben
Shaw.”

There was a certain preciseness in this address painfully
suggestive to the clergyman of legal proceedings.
He bowed again and said he was happy to meet Mr.
Gray. If he did not speak the exact truth the dereliction
must be ascribed to social etiquette, which acquires
a certain plasticity of conscientiousness on the
part of the sacred profession.

“I have called,” said the visitor, “to make some
inquiries in regard to a conversation which I am informed
took place yesterday between Mrs. Shaw and yourself,
of which my ward and myself were subjects.”

The candid reader will readily acquit Dr. Fox of
any design to injure an innocent party. The art of
Mrs. Smith had convinced him for the moment that
Mr. Gray was a very wicked man, and was leading a
young girl astray. Filled with this idea he had performed
a duty in warning Mrs. Shaw that her hospitality
was being abused. But with Mr. Gray's searching
eye upon him he became vividly conscious that he
had made a very grave accusation on very slight evidence.
His vanity, however, opposed such a confession
of error. He answered, therefore, with an efforto
assume a tone of hauteur.

“Such a conversation did take place.”

“In that conversation,” resumed the lawyer, “I am
informed you made certain charges reflecting upon
my relations with my ward.”

“I made no charges, whatever.”

“Sir, a man of your intelligence does not need to be
informed that suspicions urged by a reputable person
assume the nature of an accusation. In matters affecting
the honor of a woman, the world does not wait for
proofs. It judges on rumor and condemus without
proof. I am here to offer you the alternative of retracting
your accusations in the presence of all the
persons before whom they were made, or of attempting
to substantiate them in open court.”

The clergyman was visibly agitated. He had not expected
such energetic proceedings. A suit brought
against him for defamation of character, with such a
weak defense as he could offer, would subject him to
the ridicule and scorn of the community. But a retraction
before Mrs. Shaw, before Reginia, before
Mliss, with Mr. Gray dictating its terms—was a humiliating
alternative. He replied after some hesitation:

“You are a lawyer, Mr. Gray, and as such have an
advantage over me. I ask time to consult my legal
adviser.”

An angry gleam flashed from Mr. Gray's eyes as he
rose facing the clergyman.

“Sir,” he said “this is not a question of law. It is
a question of justice between man and man—a question
to be determined on the broad and changeless
principles of right, which every intelligent human being
comprehends. And you, sir, a Christian clergyman,
having traduced a young girl, desire to consult
with a lawyer to see if the machinery of courts will
enable you to make a show of defense. I shall not
give you an hour for consideration. My carriage is at
the door. Mrs. Shaw is expecting us. If you do not
choose to accompany me you will be held to such accountability
as the law provides.”

“Mr. Gray, this precipitancy indicates a desire to
intimidate.”

“Not at all. Fer myself and my ward. I prefer the
searching investigation of a legal examination. I am
content, however, to undo the mischief that has been
done. The suspicions to which you have given circulation
and lent the sanction of your name, are as yet
confided to four persons. If you make a full retraction
in their presence, no further proceedings will be
taken.”

Dr. Fox saw that there was nothing to be gained by
a controversy with his inexorable visitor. The man's
presence and manner were convincing proofs of his
innocence. He inwardly cursed Mrs. Smith, and
vowed his willingness to make ample reparation for any
act of injustice he had involuntarily committed.

When they had passed out of the house, Miss Kitty
was on the steps, chatting with some children on the
way to school. Why was Miss Kitty there? Was it
fate that prompted her to place herself again in the
handsome stranger's way? Were handsome men so
rare as that she must stoop to subterfuge to obtain
from one a formal bow?”

Miss Kitty could hardly have answered these questions.
In her own church circle were men as handsome
as Mr. Gray—men with whom she associated
freely. But this man, a stranger, had impressed her
ardent fancy. His name was familiar to her, for were
not Miss Shaw and herself friends and rivals? and
was not Miss Shaw suspected in gossiping circles of a
secret admiration for her father's associate, now regarded
as a rising young man and a “good catch?”

Miss Kitty was not what is termed a romantic girl.
Romantic girls love adventures for the sake of the romance,
but Miss Kitty sought them with a deeper purpose.
Her circle was narrow and filled with a dull
uniformity of men. They seemed to her all alike. The
same topics of conversation were introduced and discussed
in the same commonplace manner. They were
dreadfully good and not at all dangerous. They flirted
in an insipid way, betraying consciousness all the
time that they were doing something very wicked. A
little flirtation went a great way with most of them, and
yet fell far short of Miss Kitty's desires. It was all,
however, that could be expected of them, for they were
conspicious examples of what young gentlemen should
be.

Miss Kitty was longing for a dangerous flirtation.
She was tired of the other kind. She had been led up
to a certain line so often and soffered to fall back that
the pastime was growing monotonous. Her wildly
pulsating blood demanded stronger excitement. Her
sweeping glance shot out in every direction for the
coming man, but so far she had failed to meet him.
The bails and parties where he might be were denied
to her. Her father did not approve of dancing, and
would never permit her to learn or practice the art.
Her opportunities, therefore, for forming such acquaintances
as she secretly desired were rare.

The young lawyer, pre-occupied, and not at any
time a general admirer of the sex, only observed a
pretty young girl on the steps, to whom courtesy required
a slight obeisance. He caught her eye, however,
and her smile, and glancing back was surprised
to see how prettily she blushed. But as the carriage
rolled away he thought no more about her.

Not so with Miss Kitty. The casual glance of his
magnetic eyes caused such a thrill of pleasure as she
had never experienced. Her ardent imagination invested
him with a thousand graces. The repose of
his calm, stern face seemed noble. The rich brown
hair falling over his full white brow, realized her
most fanciful creams of beauty. The seriousness
of his countenance lent an additional charm. She
stood half entranced, following him with hungry eyes
until he was lost to view. The school children, finding
themselves no longer objects of interest, proceeded
on their way. Miss Kitty disappeared within the
house to indulge, undisturbed, her excited imagination.

Mrs. Shaw had been prepared by a note from Mr.
Gray for the interview. She received the two gentlemen
in her sitting room. The clergyman's explanation
was satisfactory. He had become convinced
by a conversation with Mr. Gray that his suspicions
were unfounded. He deeply regretted that he had
given so ready credence to a woman of whom he knew
nothing, but with whose sorrows he sympathized. He
was gratified that the opportunity was afforded him
to make such reparation as was in his power.

Mr. Gray then sought Miss Shaw. The occurrence
of the past night necessitated the removal of Mliss.
Robert Shaw's contrition was not a feeling to be relied
upon. He might be harmless when himself, but
no one could answer for him when under the influence
of liquor.

Reginia was deeply grieved. She was really attached
to Mliss and solicitous of her welfare. She realized,
also, that the relation between Mr. Gray and his ward
was one of extreme delicacy. Mliss was no longer a
child—Mr. Gray was a young man. What arrangements
could he make that would secure Mliss from the
aspersions of her enemies?

“It is not probable,” said Mr. Gray, pursuing the
conversation, “that Mliss will long remain in my
charge. The investigation that I have caused to be
made leaves little doubt but the woman that claims her
is in reality her mother.”

“But, surely, if the woman is not a proper person
to have charge of her, the court will appoint a guardian.”

“The difficulty is to prove that Mrs. Smith is not a
proper person to have charge of her own daughter.
She has fortified herself against all attacks. Her application
for admission into Dr. Fox's church is but
one of the measures she has taken to prove her respectability.
The most I now hope for is to secure the
appointment of a guardian for Mliss who will be empowered
to take possession in trust of her part of the
estate.'

“That will be a good deal,” replied Reginia.

“If we succeed; but Mr. Hopps is Mrs. Smith's
counsel.”

“I think I recognize his hand in all that has happened
and is happening. If he succeeds in having
her removed from here, a great point will be gamed.”

A serious expression came over the young girl's
face. Her downcast gaze avoided that of her companion.

“May I interpret your thought?” asked the young
man, gently.

“If you can.”

“You think Mr. Hopps would like to produce an
estrangement between you and me?

“I am quite sure he would.”

“I suspect he would. But the removal of Mliss
need not affect our friendly relations.”

“It weakens the bond. We should never see you
but for her.”

“We will find means to strengthen the bond if only
to tease Mr. Hopps. I, at least, have no desire to assist
in the accomplishment of the purpose on which
he has set his heart.”

Miss Shaw blushed and tried to laugh. It was
evident that she was ill at ease.

“I was thinking,” she said, “since last night of
Robert. Is there no way to turn him from the evil
course he is now pursuing?”

“I have been thinking of him, too. Would you
be willing to part with him for a time?”

“Yes, if it seems for his good.”

“I fear nothing can be done with him while he remains
in this city. His reckless associates, with
whom he is a kind of king, make his life too attractive.”

“What do you propose?”

“To induce him to leave the city and engage in
some pursuit that would employ his energies and occupy
his mind. Once away from his city haunts he
might lead a different life.”

The project pleased Reginia, and Mr. Gray explained
it more at length. He had left some mining claims at
Red Mountain in the care of friends who had written

him that there was a prospect of their proving valuable.
The necessary knowledge to prosecute the work
would not be difficult to acquire, and there were
friends who would gladly do a service to a friend of
his. There would be opportunities, of course, to pursue
his dissipated life, but the great majority of the
miners were earnest, industrious men.

It was arranged, therefore, that Reginla should convey
the proposition to her mother, and with her sanction
Mr. Gray should make the effort to induce Robert,
as soon as he recovered his health, to spend the
summer at Red Mountain. Mliss should remain
where she was until Robert should decide upon his
future course.

When Mr. Gray returned to his office, he found
awaiting him the detective whom he had employed to
ascertain the facts in regard to the supposed death of
the mother of Mliss. The detective had written from
time to time, but was now returned to make a full report.

The detective stated that he had followed Smith
from the time of his striking the rich pocket at Red
Mountam to the year 1850, when he arrived in Stockton.
It was susceptible of proof that he had married
in 1852, and that his wife had borne him a daughter.
It was also susceptible of proof that his wife had separated
from him, and returned to San Francisco. If
she had lied it was not until at least eight years after
Mliss was born.

The detective through an associate had also followed
the woman known as Mrs. Smith through an eventful
life to a period when she visited Stockton as a member
of a dramatic troupe. While in that city she had
seceded from the troupe and married a miner whose
name was Smith. She had accompanied her husband
to the mines, but after a short residence eloped with a
gentleman, and returned to San Francisco.

There were conflicting statements, which rendered
it impossible to determine whether the Smith that
this woman married was the father of Mliss. The
people through whom Smith had been traced were
not the same people through whom Mrs. Smith had
been traced. No one had been found who knew
Smith's wife previous to her marriage, so as to identify
her as the Mrs. Smith now claiming to be his
widow, or to prove that she was another woman. The
people who had known Mrs. Smith before her marrige
had lost sight of her afterward until she again
appeared in San Francisco. It was only known to
them that she married a man named Smith, and went
with him to a mining settlement where he had interests.
The time that had elapsed, the absence of
records, the general informality of marriages, and the
transitory character of the population, rendered it
exceedingly difficult to determine anything with certainty
beyond the facts that Smith, who afterward
struck the Pocket in Red Mountain, was married in
Stockton in 1752, and that the woman now known as
Mrs. Smith, and claiming to be the widow of the same
Smith, and the mother of Mliss, had also married a
man named Smith in Stockton about the same time.
The presumption was strong that the woman claiming
to be Smith's was so in fact.

But there were two points on which to hang a doubt.
The woman Smith married was represented to be
rather under the ordinary height of women, whereas
the woman claiming to be Smith's widow was of full
medium beight. The real Mrs. Smith was also described
as being apparently twenty-eight or thirty
years of age at the time of her marriage. whereas the
woman claiming to be Mrs. Smith was not apparently,
more than thirty at the presest date, fourteen years
later.

There was another point on which the detective was
disposed to place little stress, though it seemed to Mr.
Gray as of some importance, The woman Smith married
was very dark, and supposed to be Spanish
though she spoke English and Spanish with equal fluency.
At least people who knew her while living with
Smith represented her as conversing in both languages
with apparent facility. If Mrs. Smith had no knowledge
of Spanish the point would be against her,
though instances are known of persons forgetting
through long disuse a language with which they have
at one time been familiar. The case, therefore, was in
a complicated condition, with the weight of evidence
in Mrs. Smith's favor.