 | CHAPTER XVI.
THE NEW CLAIMANT. The miser's heir, or, The young millionaire |  |
16. CHAPTER XVI.
THE NEW CLAIMANT.
Our history retrogrades to a point of time about three
months prior to the occurrence of the events last related,
and about an equal period subsequent to the death of Sidney.
No material change had taken place in the family
of Captain Jay, the night of whose affliction seemed even
darker now than before it had been irradiated by the meteor-like
light of a failing hope. They were human, and it
was perhaps impossible that they should not find their misery
aggravated by the great and unusual display of wealth
which the Werters now made, and by the supercilious airs
of the female members of the family, on the few occasions
when they met either Addison or his sister. Both had
been too frequently at their father's house during Sidney's
last illness to admit of being treated entirely as strangers,
yet such treatment would have been less uncivil and unkind
than their vulgar assumption of superiority, and their very
evident contumely for their impoverished acquaintances.
Mr. Perth had been sufficiently discreet and considerate,
never to mention to Addison his suspicions in regard to the
immediate cause of Sidney's death, for while such a communication
would have done no good, it could not have
failed to greatly increase the distress of the young man,
whose own hand had doubtless administered the fatal
draught. From this horrible reflection at least he was
saved, and as for the rest he strove resolutely to submit
unrepiningly to the manifest will of Providence.
He had now looked for some weeks for an answer to his
letter to Edward Hazleton, not with any pleasing anticipations,
but with a nervous dread of the effect of his premature
promises upon the mind of his sanguine friend. He
had indeed written a second letter to Edward, soon after
Sidney's death, but to this it was yet too early to expect a
reply.
It was on a day of unusual depression that the expected
letter came, and Addison hastened home to read it at once
to his parents and sister. Expressing his sympathy for
his friend as he broke the seal, he proceeded to read with
emotions easily imagined the following startling epistle:
“Extraordinary as was the intelligence contained in
your kind letter of the first of March, I have that to communicate
in return which I think you will acknowledge to
be still more astounding. So anxious am I to tell you
speedily all that I think I have discovered, and which your
letter has been the principal means of revealing, that I
must hasten to my story without the preface or introduction
which its important character would seem to demand.
“When you were here, you occasionally mentioned your
cousin, whom you then seemed scarcely to know, having
had but but a single interview with him since childhood,
but you never spoke of him by his family name, which, if
I thought at all on the subject, I supposed to be the same
as yours. But in your last letter, in describing the angelic
boy so soon to take his leave of earth, you call him Sidney
Werter! Heaven knows what cause I have to remember
that name—what cause she has, who, I assure you, Addison,
notwithstanding all my frivolity, is dearer to me than
my own life—my mother! But do not think I have built
the strange theory which I am about to disclose to you,
mention incidentally the Christian name of Sidney's uncle
and guardian, and the fact that he was once a resident of
Barbadoes.
“Let me hasten then to lay before you, chiefly in my
mother's words, a painful secret in her history and mine,
which all our former intimacy has never tempted me to
divulge. About thirty years ago, two young men, of
Scotch origin, bearing the names of Ralph and Hugh
Werter, became residents of Barbadoes, and were engaged
as clerks in mercantile houses. They were brothers—
Ralph, the elder, being more than thirty years of age, and
Hugh six or eight years his junior. They brought recommendations
for integrity, they acquired a character for
shrewdness, they were gentlemanly in deportment, but the
elder had a reputation for sordidness of disposition, from
which at that time his brother was supposed to be exempt.
This opinion, alas! that I should say so, proved to be erroneous.
The same covetous nature was his, concealed
under more graceful and refined manners, and by a more
cultivated mind. After several years' residence in Barbadoes,
Ralph removed to New York, and it was about this
period that my mother's acquaintance with the younger
brother commenced. She was the only daughter of wealthy
parents, and that wealth was an attraction which numbered
the young foreigner among her admirers. He was an
urgent suitor, she was young, susceptible and confiding.
Addison, I am writing in breathless haste, for I see that
you anticipate the denouement. They were engaged—
they were married! Hugh Werter was my father! Sidney
is my brother!
“But how I shall I perform the painful task of narrating
a father's crimes—a mother's disgrace and wretchedness?
can only accomplish it by doing so in few words.
“My grandfather became a bankrupt—my father a fiend!
His love had been simulated—his hatred was real. He
abused and deserted my mother, before my birth, and followed
his brother to New York. Crushed with the weight
of her grief, when she found how utterly she had been deceived
in the man she loved, desertion added nothing to her
misery except a sense of shame. This, however, did not
endure. Resolute and proud of spirit, she rose above her
calamity, and looked with scorn upon those who could impute
disgrace where there was no crime. She did not follow
nor write to her husband; nay more, she indignantly
renounced his name, and assumed her former one, by which
both she and myself have always been known.
“I said she did not write to him, but this is not strictly
correct. In after years, when her parents were dead, and
she was reduced almost to beggary, for my sake, then a
child of eight years, she overcame her anger and pride,
and wrote to my father. She implored him to do something
for his child, to save him from destitution. She received
a letter in return—thank Heaven, she has it yet!—
enclosing a hundred dollars, and promising to send her as
much more, if she would send her most sacred promise that
she would never seek to find him nor write to him again.
For her son's sake, she eagerly made that promise, and
faithfully kept it. She received the additional sum, and
it was the means of our support until my mother found opportunity
of turning one of her accomplishments to account,
and obtained employment as a teacher of music. With the
most unconquerable energy, the most patient self-denial,
at a time when I, a giddy boy, could appreciate neither,
she supported us both, and educated me during a period of
eight years. Since then I have compelled her to desist,
at times I almost feel a sense of pain at our changed prospects,
which may leave me no longer the privilege of working
for so dear a parent. You understand, of course, what
I mean by changed prospects, for this is the brilliant denouement
to which all my story points. If Sidney's father
and mine were the same, as everything indicates, he—oh!
whisper it not while the dear boy yet lives—is illegitimate,
and I am the rightful heir to the great estate of which you
speak. Be not alarmed for your own interests, or those
of your friends, by this claim; for, if I should succeed to
the estate, my brother's intended will shall be faithfully
carried into effect, in relation to all secondary bequests,
while as to the great bulk of the property, I have not the
least doubt that you and I can agree upon a satisfactory
division of it, for we—my mother and myself—are quite
willing that you should have half, and I am not afraid that
you will ask for more.
“You will see that I speak of these golden prospects
with much confidence, and you will, perhaps, impute it in
a great degree to my naturally sanguine disposition, but I
have probably more reason for doing so than you imagine,
for I have already consulted eminent counsel here, who are
familiar with the leading principles of your laws, who say
our right is indisputable. We have the most positive proof
of the marriage, for not only has mother a certificate to
that effect, but the clergyman who officiated at the ceremony
is still living, and can be produced. I have written
this letter exultingly, because I supposed it most probable
that your own faintly-expressed hopes have been dashed
by the premature death of Sidney; but if it should prove
otherwise, and if you are already in possession of the
estate, you will perceive that you have little cause for apprehension.
“But I must reserve further particulars until I can see
you and communicate them orally, for I have innumerable
things to tell. We shall sail for New York within a few
weeks—my mother and myself; we shall bring with us the
clergyman of whom I speak, and we shall be prepared for
an immediate, prompt, and energetic assertion of our rights.
Until then, adieu, dear Addison; remember me as usual to
your parents and sister, with whom I seem to have been
long acquainted, and believe me to be your very sincere
friend.
It would be idle to attempt to paint the tumult of delightful
feelings with which Addison read, and with which his
parents and sister listened to the contents of this epistle.
They could scarcely believe that all was real, and it was
not until some parts of the letter had been twice or thrice
perused, that they began to partake fully of the writer's
sanguine hopes.
“There can be no doubt about the facts,” said Addison,
“for here he gives the full name of his father, Hugh Werter,
whom we also know to have resided in Barbadoes about
the time he mentions.”
“They must be very confident of success,” replied the
elder Mr. Jay, “as they are both coming immediately to
New York, at great expense, and evidently prepared to
spend all their little means in a vigorous prosecution of
their claim.”
“Edward must be a very noble and generous young
man,” said Mrs. Jay, “to be willing to surrender half of
the whole estate to Addison.”
“I will never take it,” replied the young man; it is his
by every right; he may give me a moderate fortune if he
chooses, but half would certainly be too much.”
“He knew you expected much more from your cousin,
and he does not wish you to be disappointed.”
“If he gives to father and Lizzie the fortunes which
Sidney intended for them, I shall not be much disappointed,
although my own portion were but a tenth of the remainder.
Even that, according to Mr. Perth's calculations, would
exceed a hundred thousand dollars.”
“That, certainly, would be no very serious affliction,”
said Lizzie, laughing; “I think most men would be able
to bear up under it.”
“Well,” said Capt. Jay, “there is a homely old adage,
which says that you must catch your fish before cooking
them. It is rather early to talk about dividing the property
yet.”
A hearty laugh greeted this remark, and the conversation
took another turn, for the joy of the happy circle was
not unmingled with other feelings, induced by the strange
intelligence they had received. They grieved at the idea
that any shadow of disgrace should fall upon the memory
of the dear young friend whom they had so recently lost,
or that any stigma should attach to the name of his longburied
mother; but they knew that, although Mrs. Werter
was never legally a wife, she was not only innocent, but
that she was entirely ignorant of her pretended husband's
perfidy, and they rejoiced that the discovery of these facts
had never been made until the wronged mother and her
son had both passed from earth. Now it could injure none
but the guilty.
Mrs. Jay certainly felt angry at the man who had so
unscrupulously allied himself to her confiding sister; but
she soon repressed these feelings, for she knew that indignation
was no proper emotion to entertain toward one who
had so long been a tenant of the tomb.
The interval that elapsed before the arrival of Mrs.
at home, they had already re-assumed) was one of much
suspense and anxiety to the family of Capt. Jay, for they
could not maintain their hopes at the elevated point to
which Edward's letter had raised them. Addison, however,
felt sufficient confidence in their coming affluence to venture
most of his small savings in adding some articles of luxury
both to their scanty furniture and to their plain apparel, in
order to give a better reception to their southern friends. It
was noticed, also, that in these purchases he was more particular
and more lavish in providing for Lizzie than for himself,
or his parents, and he spared nothing within his means
for his sister, excepting what he thought might be in bad
taste for their state of acknowledged poverty.
They came—sooner than they were expected—and were
met on shipboard by the delighted and half crazed Addison,
who conducted the whole party, including the venerable
clergyman, to the house of his father. The two families
did not meet as strangers, but as friends long known and
tried, possessing that mutual confidence in each other which
integrity and kindness ever inspire. If there was any
exception to the appearance of perfect cordiality between
all parties, it related to Edward and Miss Jay, between
whom, despite a continual effort of each to be friendly, there
was a very evident restraint existing. It began to wear
off, however, in a few days, and after that it vanished with
most amazing rapidity, for there was no resisting Edward's
perfect good nature and exuberant spirits, and it is believed
that Lizzie made no serious efforts to do so.
The young men lost no time in setting the machinery of
the law at work, in furtherance of Edward's claim. They
called upon Mr. Perth, and laid the facts of the case before
him, while he in turn, after assuring them that there could
be no doubt of success, if their proof was perfect, hastened
consultation. The result of these conferences was encouraging
in the highest degree, for the leading counsel
showed his confidence in the claim, by undertaking it with
a zeal and earnestness that always marked his ablest professional
efforts. A heavy looking man was Mr. Nott, with
an uneven but massive forehead, over which his straight
hair was always straggling, and under which a pair of
homely gray eyes at times twinkled and sparkled, and at
times seemed dull, hazy and unmeaning. But all New
York could not boast a more astute or learned lawyer.
Without being brilliant or ornate in anything, there was a
mental strength and power in the man, a sort of intellectual
momentum, which was almost irresistible; and many a
graceful orator, who had been opposed to him, had found
his fine rhetoric as useless in the contest as was the polished
scimetar of Saladin before the ponderous battle-axe of
Cœur de Leon.
Such was the man who took the management of Edward's
cause, and the very fact that he did undertake it, was a most
important step gained. But Mr. Nott did not rest satisfied
with the proof of which the claimants were in possession,
for although it was distinct and clear, he was unwilling
to trust so important a cause to a single witness or a single
letter.
“There must be other aged inhabitants of Barbadoes,”
he said to Edward, “who remember the marriage of your
mother, and who could now identify Ralph as the brother
of her husband.”
“I know at least two such, probably four or five,” replied
the young heir; “but I thought the clergyman would
be the most proper witness.”
“We must have them all,” said Mr. Nott.
“All? But the expense would be very great—I fear we
are not able.”
“We must have them all,” repeated the lawyer, dictatorially.
“As to the expense, it must not be thought of in
a case like this. A messenger must be despatched to Barbadoes
at once, and as we cannot compel these people to
come here, he must be empowered to offer them such pay
as will satisfy them.”
“Then I must abandon the case at once,” replied Edward,
wofully, “for I never can raise the necessary funds
for the purpose.”
“Nonsense, young man; give yourself no uneasiness
about it. Mr. Perth will manage it all; only do as he
says, and sign such papers as he presents to you. I should
not be afraid to advance a few thousands on this claim myself,
if it were in my line; but there are enough who will
do it, when they understand that—”
“That Mr. Nott brings the suit,” added Perth, smiling.
Mr. Nott smiled too, and a momentary expression of triumph
flashed across his features, such as he often exhibited
in the forum, but leaving no trace of its light upon his
homely countenance.
Edward implicitly followed his advice. He consulted
with his mother, who was able to name three individuals,
all of whom she was confident could testify clearly to the
particulars mentioned by Mr. Nott, and who, she was certian,
would gladly come forward to befriend her, when
needed, without other inducement than the payment of necessary
expenses.
The business progressed promisingly, for it was impelled
by a vigorous and resolute mind. The money was procured,
and a messenger was sent for the additional witnesses,
but although the formal preliminaries of the suit
were immediately prepared, Mr. Nott resolved not to unmask
fully ready.
Several months of inaction, therefore, elapsed, during
which the strictest secrecy was preserved in regard to the
movements of the claimants, and Ralph remained utterly
unsuspicious of the storm which was brewing around him.
It was during this interval that the tragedy already related
took place, and it was just when the hardened man
had once more accustomed himself to a sense of security,
that he was formally served with process in a suit designed
to dispossess him of all his wealth. He was not easily
alarmed by litigation, but the name of the plaintiff had an
ominous significance, and vague and terrifying conjectures
took possession of his mind. He had never known of his
brother's first marriage, and he little dreamed, when with
wiles and deceit he induced Addison Jay to seek a home
in Barbadoes, that this very movement was the incipient
link in a chain of causes destined to work his own ruin.
He flew to Boggs with the threatening document, and
tremblingly inquired its meaning, which in turn the attorney
sought at the hands of Mr. Perth, while Ralph anxiously
awaited at the office of the former the result of the inquiries.
When Boggs returned, he was in a state of great excitement,
but not apparently very miserable. Werter had
always been an unprofitable client to him, and yet he was
perpetually seeking him when he was in trouble.
“Edward Werter, the plaintiff in this suit,” he said,
“claims to be your nephew, and the son and heir of your
brother Hugh.”
Ralph laughed sardonically and contemptuously.
“Why what kind of foolery is this? Everybody knows
that Sidney was my brother's only child.”
“Did not you and your brother once both reside in Barbadoes?”
“Yes.”
“Did he not remain there several years after you came
to New York?”
“Yes—what of that?”
“Was there not a young lady there whose name was
Hazleton?
“Yes.”
“And a Mr. Enfield, a clergyman?”
“Yes, again. What do these questions mean?”
“It is alleged that your brother was married to Miss
Hazleton by the clergyman I have mentioned, who is now
here to prove it—that he deserted his wife and followed
you to New York, where he married again—and that now
his widow and his son, who was born after the father's
flight, are here to claim his property.”
“It is all false as the Koran, a trumped-up story—too
flimsy to deceive a child,” said Ralph. “No such people
are here. It is some plot of that young vagabond Jay, to
extort money from me.”
“But, Mr. Werter—”
“I tell you it is false,” he repeated, violently. “Are
you a lawyer, and yet so easily duped? Do you not know
that that villainous Addison went to Barbadoes, where he
has doubtless heard just enough about our once residing
there, and about Hugh's acquaintances, to admit of concocting
such a fool's story as this?”
“I know,” replied Boggs, gravely, “that I met a young
gentleman at Mr. Perth's office, who, he said, was the
plaintiff in this suit, and who bears as striking a resemblance
to your late brother as ever son bore to a father.”
Ralph turned pale.
“I feel well assured, too,” continued Boggs, “that Mr.
Perth did not lie to me, when he said that the Rev. Mr.
Enfield, and three other old residents of Barbadoes, were
marriage. They were his acquaintances and yours, and
were present at the wedding.”
The old man began to tremble, despite every effort to
seem unmoved.
“Did he name any of these people, besides the clergyman?”
he said, faintly.
“Yes—but I do not remember the names; one has been
a fellow-clerk of the bride-groom, and I think his name
was something like Talford.”
“Talford!” said the old man, rising and grasping with
emotion. “George Talford? And he is now here?
Why, Boggs, this is most extraordinary—a deep-laid plot,
eh?”
He looked anxiously to the lawyer for a word of encouragement.
“Counsellor Nott is not the man to engage in plots,”
replied Boggs, coldly.
“But you don't really think that there is anything in
this story?”
“I really do think, Mr. Werter, judging by the character
of the men engaged in the suit, the simplicity of the
story, the connection of all its parts, and the great resemblance
of the complainant to your brother, that you have
the strongest ground for apprehension.”
Werter's courage seemed entirely to have deserted him.
If such was the opinion of his own lawyer, he thought, what
would the unbiassed say. The conviction, indeed, was
forced upon his mind that the story must be true, and he
began to recall some hints of Hugh's, made many years
before, which must have had allusion to this very affair,
while unfortunately for him there was no basis of integrity
in his brother's character, on which he could found a contrary
hope. He had been none too good for so criminal an
the human mind, when in imminent peril—to brave speedily
its fate, and know the worst. He induced Boggs to go
immediately and learn where Mr. Talford could be found,
and when the name of his hotel was brought to him, he
hastened to call upon him. The southerner was a man of
about fifty-five years, and Werter was much his senior, yet
although Time had wrought great changes in each since
they had last met, they recognized each other without introduction,
and almost the last hope of Ralph forsook him
when he became certain of the identity of Talford, and
heard from his own lips the errand on which he had come.
The whole plain and truthful story he heard, of events long
past and well known to many, but never before known to
himself. He heard the names, too, of Mr. Talford's fellow
witnesses, whom also he well remembered as his brother's
young acquaintances, and as men who would be likely to
be present at his marriage, and he was told that he might
have an interview at any hour when he chose to seek it
with Mrs. Hugh Werter and her son, his nephew.
He did not choose it. He went home in a sort of stupor,
produced by the shock he had received, and from which
when he emerged, it was only to a keener sense of anguish.
Several weeks elapsed, during which nothing could be done
in defence of the suit brought against him, excepting to
employ able counsel, and then await in painful suspense the
law's slow delay. In the mean time his depression daily
increased. In prosperity, his conscience had seemed utterly
seared, but in the gloom of adversity the giant phantom of
remorse arose, and became, as it were, his mental shadow,
ever near him, dark and silent, yet ever repeating in dumb
show his past deeds, as the natural shadow mimics those
of the present. His last dreadful crime was yet but of
recent date, and while he shudderingly contemplated all
mind. He had heretofore considered himself free from all
danger of detection, but with the cowardice of guilt he now
fancied he saw accusation in every eye that gazed upon
him. That suspicion which he imagined he soon created.
He started so strangely and looked so alarmed whenever
the death of Brail was mentioned—he related the occurrence
with such unnecessary minuteness of detail to all
questioners, and yet with such frequent variations and inconsistencies,
that dark and as yet unwhispered surmises
arose. Neighbor looked into the countenance of neighbor,
to read the reflection of thoughts which neither dared to
utter, against a man possessing all the power and prestige
of great wealth; for, although the pending suit was known
to many, very few knew its serious import, or believed in
the validity of the claim. Yet some one, bolder than the
rest, ventured at length to ask whether Werter could have
any reason to wish the death of Brail. This inquiry being
once started, the whole subject of the physician's sudden
rise from obscurity, and his intimacy with Ralph was discussed.
Yet no key to the mystery was discovered. But
Brail had not died quite friendless. He had left a widow,
a woman of a naturally coarse and harsh mind, who had
become assimilated to her husband during his many years
of sin and suffering, and who, if not a participant in his
crimes, was often cognizant of them. She had known of
her husband's first visit to Sidney, for there was nothing in
that act which he was desirous to conceal, and she had also
known of Werter's visit to Brail on the day of Sidney's
death, although she could only guess its object. She did
guess it, however, with tolerable shrewdness, and without
any great regret, when the fortunes of her husband underwent
so sudden and marked a change without any assignaable
cause, excepting the favor of Werter. Of the peculiar
the coadjutors in crime, she was unapprised, but she could
not fail to perceive that Brail had acquired great power and
influence over the millionaire.
True affection belongs to gentler natures than hers, yet
she had no small attachment for her husband, and when
his tragical death occurred, her grief was very violent, and
probably prevented any tendency to those suspicions which
the circumstances might so naturally have awakened. But
a subsequent period of calmness gave rise to reflection,
dark doubts suddenly arose in her mind and grew daily in
magnitude, until her conjectures seemed to approach to
certainty. With these thoughts, came a strong desire for
revenge, of which her nature was fully capable, yet she
dared not make an accusation which could only be rendered
plausible by explanations which must cover both herself
and her deceased partner with infamy. But when suspicions
took shape in other minds, and grew into rumor and
reached her eager ears, it re-awoke her slumbering frenzy,
and her heart throbbed with as stern a determination for
revenge as inspired the Scottish Helen, when her husband's
betrayer prayed wildly and vainly for his forfeited
life.
That night she visited Ralph Werter at his own house,
in his private room, and a scene of wild altercation ensued,
of denunciation and remonstrance, which, although its import
was then unknown, was heard by listeners in other
streets, and was long remembered by many.
“To-morrow!” were the parting words with which the
maniacal woman left the presence of the appalled and
quailing man. “To-morrow!” she repeated, in shrill tones,
from the street, as she rapidly fled from the house. “To-morrow!”
mocking Echo answered from the court, and exulting
fiends seemed to Ralph to reply from the air.
But there was no to-morrow for him! That night the
wretched man fled from his house, and, as subsequently
appeared, after several hours of irresolute wandering about
the docks, found a watery grave in the same stream which
but a few weeks before had received his victim.
| CHAPTER XVI.
THE NEW CLAIMANT. The miser's heir, or, The young millionaire | |