University of Virginia Library

28. CHAPTER XXVIII.
AT THE THEATRE.

It became Mr. Gray's duty as temporary guardian
of Mliss, authorized by the court to inquire
into the management of the estate of the late J.
Smith, to confer with Mr. Hopps, counsel for
Mrs. Smith. He found that gentleman courteous
and friendly, careful to protect his client,
but throwing no unnecessary impediment in
the way of Mr. Gray's performance of his duty.
It was discovered after much trouble and under
threat of contempt of court, that Mrs. Smith
had made no investments at all, but had deposited
the money in different banking institutions,
on special deposits, so that it could be drawn at
a day's notice. The sum of fifty five thousand
dollars was discovered, the other five thousand
Mrs. Smith represented as having been expended
in court fees and other necessary expenses.

The morning after the conference between
Mr. Gray and Mliss, as related in the last chapter,
Mr. Gray and Mr. Hopps held their final interview.
The certlficates of deposit were made
over to Mr. Gray, and the banks enjoined to hold
the money until the court made further orders.

“I have often thought,” said Mr. Hopps, when the
business was concluded, “that we laywers would get
on much better if we had more confidence in each
other. You have probably expended two or three thou
and dollars to obtain information which I possessed
at the starrt. Your detectives have informed you that
my client was married to J. Smith as represented, and

by virtue of that marriage became at least putative
ather of our little heiress.”

“Yes,” admitted Mr. Gray, “your client married a
J. Smith, and the presumption is that he wasthe, same
Smith who settled in `Smith's Pocket.”'

“There is no doubt on that point. I could have
given you proof of the fact, but in our suspicious way
you must needs go to the trouble of hunting your
own proof.”

“If the time ever comes when all men tell the exact
truth at all times and under all circumstances, our
profession will fare badly.”

“True. In this case I suspect you may get the appointment
of a guardian to take care of the girl's property,
but her person will be given in charge of her
mother. There is no way to escape that.”

“I am prepared to accept that result.”

“In confidence, Mr. Gray, I regret it. Of course I
must do my duty to my client, but I'd rather see the
child under other guardianship. The mother seems a
nice woman but she has bad associates.”

Mr. Gray agreed with Mr. Hopps in that opinion.
He was a little surprised, however, at its frank expression.
Mr. Hopps continued:

“If Miss Smith should die before she is of age her
mother will inherit the entire estate.”

Mr. Gray knew this to be a fact, but his heart gave a
throb at the thought.

“If the girl were a year older.” continued Mr.
Hopps impressively, “and I was her friend, I
would see her married to some nice young man who
would take care of her and of her property. Unfortunately,
a marriage at thirteen without the consent of
parents is not good in law. In this case the fact is to
be regretted, as I wouldn't like to insure the child's
life if she falls into certain hands.”

“The law ties its own hands in some cases,” was the
non-commital reply of Mr. Gray.

“Yes, very often. Sometimes a good lawyer will
work to defeat a wise law. If I were you, for instances
I would contrive someway to save this child.”

“I shall exhaust legal remedies. Others a lawyer
need not advise.”

“In ordinary cases, no. In extraordinary ones,
yes. This is an extraordinary case. It is a great misfortune
the child is not a year older. But I have no
right to give expression to my private sentiments
when opposed to the interests of my client. My interest
in the young lady must be urged as excuse. I
trust you will forget that I have spoken, though in
strict confidence between men who desire to see justice
done.”

Mr. Gray was not in the least the dupe of his wily
opponent. Mr. Hopps still entertained hopes of success
in his suit for Miss Shaw's hand, and Mr. Gray
was an obstacle in his way. Could Mr. Gray be betrayed
into some act which might necessitate a temporary
absence from the city, Mr. Hopps might possibly
be the gainer thereby.

That afternoon Miss Shaw and Mliss were out shopping
and embraced the opportunity to call at Mr.
Gray's office. They surprised the athletic Tim in a
slow promenade across the office, his hands performing
the service usually assigned to other members of
the body. He reversed his position quickly when he
discovered he had an audience, and came forward, a
little red in the face, to receive the ladies.

“Well, Tim,” said Miss Shaw, “how soon are we to
have that gymnastic exhibition?”

“As soon as you are all up in your parts,” replied
Tim, reminding the young lady of her not very brilliant
attempts in the same line of performance.
“Miss Mliss does pretty weh already.”

“Miss Mliss had in fact become a great friend of Tim.
Her first attempt to balance a ruler had been a decided
success, and she had gone from feat to feat
with a skill and boldness that astonished and delighted
her youthful teacher. We trust the young lady's
propriety of conduct is too well established to require
the mention of her steady omission of the particular
feat in which on the afternoon in question they had
found Tim engaged.

Leaving Mliss to amuse herself with Tim for a few
moments, Reginia went into Mr. Gray's office. She
was now not an unfrequent visitor there, for since
her father's death there were many little matters requiring
consultation.

The young lawyer looked worn and dejected. His
professional labors were arduous, and besides he had
his own causes of disquietude. The case of the
People vs. Mrs. Smith was to come up in a few days
and there seemed no way to avoid a disastrous defeat.

“You are working too hard, Mr. Gray,” said Miss
Shaw, standing beside him and laying her hand on his
shoulder.

“It is not work; it is anxiety. Perhaps I should
say worry. Hear Mliss laugh. She does not realize
that these happy days are almost over.”

“Do you intend to give her up?”

“I've no way to help it—unless I run away with
her,” he added jestingly.

“Surely there ought to be some way—some legal
and proper way. What is law for it is isn't to protect
people?”

“The law is all right; the trouble is in providing the
facts. I am thoroughly convinced that Mrs. Smith is
not Mliss's mother, but the evidence which convinces
me would have little weight with a jury. Since I have
spoken with you, Mliss has shown me a portrait which
she says her father gave her, telling her it was the
portrait of her mother. I know Mliss speaks the
truth, but produced at this late day, it will be regarded
with suspicion.”

“Why did not Mliss show it to you sooner?”

“I don't think she can give a reason. She has ever
been disinclined to speak of her mother, and probably
did not realize that it had any value as evidence
in court. But I need not trouble you with these details.
I don't believe your woman's wit can find a way
out of this dilemma.”

“I am afraid net. Have you time to devote one
evening to us—Mliss and me?”

“I think so. What is the proposition?”

“Alice Kingsbury takes her farewell benefit this
evening, and Mliss wants to go. She has never been
to a theatre in her life.”

“Miss Kingsbury plays `Fanchion' of course.”

“Yes; and it is her farewell benefit.”

“I am almost afraid of the effect of that play upon

our little friend's ardent imagination. Fanchon's
early life and that of Mliss were not unlike.”

“But the child will be so dissappointed. And Bob
wants to go too?”

“Does Miss Shaw want very much to go?”

“Miss Shaw is waiting to be invited.”

It was the first time Miss Shaw had intimated a desire
to go out with him, though their acquaintance
had grown into a familiar friendship. Since her father's
death she had given up society, and this would be
her first appearance, except at church.

Tim was dispatched to engage a box and soon returned
with a ticket for Miss Kingbury's own box, all
others being engaged.

The girls in high spirits took Mr. Gray home to dinner.
Mliss, but little demonstrative when pleased,
was unusually gay and animated.

Just before the curtain rose the four entered a stage
box and took seats in view of one of the most fashionable
audiences ever assembled in San Francisco. Miss
Kingsbury was the pet of all circles, the high as well
as the low, and all circles were represented in this announced
as her farewell to the stage.

In the dress circle there were few persons who did
not recognize Miss Shaw. Ladies who had been her
rivals and gentlemen who had been devoted admirers,
leveled their glasses, and bows greeted her from all
quarters.

The reception—for such it was in effect—called the
old light to her beautiful hazel eyes and the rich
changing color to her cheeks. She had never seemed
so beautiful in the most bewildering ballroom toilets
as now in sombre black, unrelieved by the flash of
diamonds or the softer lustre of flowers.

Mliss sat gravely by her side, her face pale, her
splendid eyes wandering composedly over the brilliant
audience.

“Do all these people know you, Regie?” she asked.

“A good many of them do. Some are old schoolmates
of mine.”

“Do they know Mr. Gray?”

“Let Mr. Gray answer for himself,” and half-laughing
she summoned Mr. Gray to the front.

The opera-glasses were again brought into service.
Mr. Gray stood the ordeal like a veteran. He was
what women call a fine-looking rather than a handsomeman,
and as study and thought gave maturity
and character to his face, he gained in the higher elements
of manly beauty. Even Miss Shaw, who had
never been at a loss for distinguished admirers. was
rather proud to present him to that audience.

Mr. Robert Shaw's dress circle acquaintance was
limited, but the gallery was his to a man. As he leaned
forward to survey the tier in which he was usually an
actor, some mischievous friends gave the signal for
applause which swept the gallery.

Reginia drew back behind the curtains and motioned
Bob into obscurity.

The curtain rose. Mliss forgot the audience. Her
hand stole into, Mr. Gray's and there she sat, all eyes
and ears, silent undemonstrative, but quivering with
feeling.

Fanchon darts upon the stage, ragged, forlorn. A
crowd follows, hooting and derisive, forgetting that
beneath those rags there beats a human heart.

The dark brow of Mliss lowered, the thin line of
pale upper lip drew tightly across her gleaming white
teeth, and her eyes flamed as with fire.

Fanchon turns and faces her enemies. They fall
back before that lithe, defiant little figure and the
blaze of those wonderful eyes. The shouts of derision
grow fainter and die away as the village hero
advances and takes Fanchon's hand in his.

Then Mr. Gray felt the nervous grasp of Mliss's
hand relax and beheld the tears streaming from her
eyes. The tears were pearls formed in that marvellous
laboratory which we call the heart.

Then follows the village dance, in which Fanchon
bears off the village hero, and after the dance the
pretty love talk between Fanchon and her brave young
lover.

The elfish shadow dance closes the act. The despised
Fanchon forgets her misery in the contemplation
of her own antics. The child enjoys
her last frotic ere it becomes a woman.
The weird scene, the silent watcher, the bubbling
laugh of the child, the wild grace of her attitude,
the wave of happiness that drowns every
thought of sorrow, excite the dullest sensibility. The
curtain descends, and a perfect storm of applause
sweeps through the house.

Mliss sank back in her chair, and after a moment
leaning back put her mouth to Mr. Gray's ear.

“Does he marry her?” she asked.

“Yes,” was the answer.

The child gave a sigh of relief.