University of Virginia Library

46. CHAPTER XLVI.
THE NIGHT COMETH.

ON the evening of the day of the encounter in Charlton's
library, some of the principal persons of our story were
assembled in one of the private parlors of the Astor House in
New York.

Some hours previously, Vance had introduced Clara to her
nearest relatives, the Pompilards; but before telling them her
true name he had asked them to trace a resemblance. Instantly
Netty had exclaimed: “Why, mother, it is the face you have
at home in the portrait of Aunt Leonora.” And Aunt Leonora
was the grandmother of Clara!

Vance then briefly presented his proofs of the relationship.
Who could resist them? Pompilard, in a high state of excitement,
put his hands under Clara's arms, lifted her to a level
with his lips, and kissed her on both cheeks. His wife, her
grand-aunt, greeted her not less affectionately; and in embracing
“Cousin Netty,” Clara was charmed to find a congenial
associate.

Pompilard all at once recollected the gold casket which old
Toussaint had committed to his charge for Miss Berwick.
Writing an order, he got Clara to sign it, and then strode out
of the room, delighted with himself for remembering the trust.
Half an hour afterwards he returned and presented to his
grand-niece the beautiful jewel-box, the gift of her father's
step-mother, Mrs. Charlton. Clara received it with emotion,
and divesting it of the cotton-wool in which it had been kept
wrapped and untouched so many years, she unlocked it, and
drew forth this letter: —

The Pompilards remained of course to dinner; and then
to the expected interview of the evening. They were introduced
to the highly-dressed bride, Mrs. Ripper, formerly
Clara's teacher; also to the quadroon lady, Madame Volney.
And then the gentlemen — Captain Onslow, Messrs. Winslow,
Semmes, and Ripper, and last, not least, Colonel Delancy
Hyde and his nephew — were all severally and formally presented
to the Pompilards.

“Does it appear from Charlton's letters to Hyde that Charlton
knew of Hyde's villany in kidnapping the child?” asked
Mr. Semmes of Vance.

“No, Charlton was unquestionably ignorant, and is so to
this day, of the fact that the true heir survives. All that he
expected Hyde to do was to so shape his testimony as to make
it appear that the child died after the mother and before the
father. On this nice point all Charlton's chances hung. And
the letters are of the highest importance in showing that it was
intimated by the writer to Hyde, that, in case his testimony
should turn out to be of a certain nature, he, Hyde, besides
having his and Quattles's expenses to New York all paid,
should receive a thousand dollars.”

“That is certainly a tremendous point against Charlton. Is
it possible that Hyde did not see that he held a rod over Charlton
in those letters?”

“Both he and Quattles appear to have been very shallow
villains. Probably they did not comprehend the legal points
at issue, and never realized the vital importance of their testimony.”

“Let me suggest,” said Semmes, “the importance of having
Charlton recognize Hyde in the presence of witnesses.”

“Yes, I had thought of that, and arranged for it.”

Here there was a stir in the little unoccupied anteroom
adjoining. The Charltons and Charlton's lawyer, Mr. Detritch,
had arrived. The ladies were removing their bonnets
and shawls. Hyde drew near to Vance, and the latter
threw open the door. Charlton entered first. The prospect
of recovering his New Orleans property had put him in the
most gracious of humors. His dyed hair, his white, well-starched
vest, his glossy black dress-coat and pantaloons,
showed that his personal appearance was receiving more than
usual attention. He would have been called a handsome man
by those who did not look deep as Lavater.

After saluting Vance, Charlton started on recognizing the
gaunt figure of Delancy Hyde. Concluding at once that the
Colonel had come as a friend, Charlton exclaimed: “What!
My old friend, Colonel Delancy Hyde? Is it possible?”

And there was a vehement shaking of hands between them.

Detritch and the ladies having entered, all the parties were
formally introduced to one another. The mention of Miss
Berwick's name excited no surprise on the part of any one.

The company at once disposed themselves in separate groups
for conversation. Captain Onslow gave his arm to Miss Charlton,
and they strolled through the room to talk of ambulances,
sanitary commissions, hospitals, and bullets through the lungs.
Pompilard, who declared he felt only eighteen years old while
looking at his niece, divided his delightful attentions between
Madame Volney and Mrs. Ripper. Clara invited Colonel
Hyde to take a seat near her, and gave him such comfort as
might best confirm him in the good path he was treading.
Hyde junior looked at the war pictures in Harper's Weekly.
Winslow and Mrs. Charlton found they had met five years before
at Saratoga, and were soon deep in their recollections.
Semmes and Detritch skirmished like two old roosters, each
afraid of the other. Ripper made himself agreeable to Mrs.
Pompilard and Netty, by talking of paintings, of which he
knew something, having sold them at auction. Vance took
soundings of Charlton's character, and found that rumor, for
once, had not been unjust in her disparagement. The man's
heart, what there was of it, was in his iron safe with his coupons
and his certificates of deposit.

Suddenly Vance went to the piano, and, striking some of
the loud keys, attracted the attention of the company, and then
begged them to be silent while he made a few remarks. The
hum of conversation was instantly hushed.

“We are assembled, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “on
business in which Mr. Charlton here present is deeply interested.”

Mr. Charlton, who occupied an arm-chair, and had Detritch
on his right, bowed his acknowledgments.

“If,” continued Vance, “I have not communicated privately
to Mr. Charlton, or his respectable counsel, all the startling
and important facts bearing on the case, I hope they will
understand that it was not through any failure of respect for
them, and especially for Mrs. and Miss Charlton, but simply
because I have thought it right to choose the course which
seemed to me the most proper in serving the cause of justice
and of the party whose interests I represent.”

Charlton and Detritch looked at each other inquiringly,
and the look said, “What is he driving at?”

The amiable bride (Mrs. Ripper) touched Pompilard coquettishly
with her fan, and, pointing to Charlton, whispered, “O,
won't he be come up with?”

“No innocent man,” continued Vance, “will think it ever
untimely to be told that he is holding what does not belong to
him; that he has it in his power to rectify a great wrong; to
make just restitution. On the table here under my hand are
certain documents. This which I hold up is a certified printed
copy of the great Trial, by the issue of which Mr. Charlton,
here present, came into possession of upwards of a million of
dollars, derived from the estate of the brother of one of the
ladies now before me. It appears from the judge's printed
charge (see page 127) on the Trial, that the essential testimony
in the case was that given by one Delancy Hyde and one
Leonidas Quattles. With the former, Mr. Charlton has here
renewed his acquaintance. Mr. Quattles died some months
since, but we here have his deposition, duly attested, taken just
before his death.”

“What has all this to do with my property in New Orleans?”
exclaimed Charlton, thoroughly mystified.

“Be patient, sir, and you will see. The verdict, ladies and
gentlemen, turned upon the question whether, on the occasion
of the explosion of the Pontiac, the child, Clara, or her father,
Henry Berwick, died first. The testimony of Messrs. Hyde
and Quattles was to the effect that the child died first. But it
now appears that the father died —”

“A lie and a trick!” shouted Charlton, starting up with features
pale and convulsed at once with terror and with rage.
“A trick for extorting money. Any simpleton might see
through it. Have we been brought here to be insulted, sir?
You shall be indicted for a conspiracy. 'T is a case for the
grand jury, — eh, Detritch?”

“My advice to you, Mr. Charlton,” said Detritch, “is to turn
this gentleman over to me, and to refuse to listen yourself to
anything further he may have to say.”

In this advice Charlton snuffed, as he thought, the bad odor
of a fee, and he determined not to be guided by it. Laughing
scornfully, he said, resuming his seat: “Let the gentleman play
out his farce. He hopes to show, does he, that the child died
after the father!”

“No, ladies and gentleman,” said Vance, crossing the room,
taking Clara by the hand, and leading her forth, “what I have
to show is, that she did n't die at all, and that Clara Aylesford
Berwick now stands before you.”

Charlton rose half-way from his chair, the arms of which he
grasped as if to keep himself from sinking. His features were
ghastly in their expression of mingled amazement and indignation,
coupled with a horrible misgiving of the truth of the disclosure,
to which Vance's assured manner and the affirmative
presence of Colonel Hyde gave their dreadful support. Charlton
struggled to speak, but failed, and sank back in his chair,
while Detritch, after having tried to compose his client, rose
and said: “In my legal capacity I must protest against this
most irregular and insidious proceeding, intended as it obviously
is to throw my client and myself off our guard, and to produce
an alarm which may be used to our disadvantage.”

“Sir,” replied Vance, “you entirely misapprehend my object.
It is not to your fears, but to your manhood and your sense of
justice that I have thought it right to make my first appeal. I

propose to prove to you by facts, which no sane man can resist,
that the young lady whose hand I hold is the veritable Miss
Berwick, to whom her mother's estate belonged, and to whom
it must now be restored, with interest.”

“With interest! Ha, ha, ha!” cried Charlton, with a frightful
attempt at a merriment which his pale cheeks belied.

“There will be time,” continued Vance, “for the scrutiny of
the law hereafter. I court it to the fullest extent. But I have
thought it due to Mr. Charlton, to give him the opportunity to
show his disposition to right a great wrong, in the event of my
proving, as I can and will, that this lady is the person I proclaim
her to be, the veritable Miss Berwick.”

Moved by that same infatuation which compels a giddy man
to look over the precipice which is luring him to jump, Charlton,
with a deplorable affectation of composure, wiped the perspiration
from his brow, and said: “Well, sir, bring on these
proofs that you pretend are so irresistible. I think we can
afford to hear them, — eh, Detritch?”

“First,” said Vance, “I produce the confession of Hyde,
here present, and of Quattles, deceased, that the infant child
of Mr. Berwick was saved by them from the wreck of the Pontiac,
taken to New Orleans, and sold at auction as a slave.
The auctioneer, Mr. Richard Ripper, is here present, and will
testify that he sold the child to Carberry Ratcliff, whose late
attorney, T. J. Semmes, Esq., is here present, and can identify
Miss Berwick as the child bought, according to Ratcliff's own
admission, from the said Ripper. Then we have the testimony
of Mrs. Ripper, lately Mrs. Gentry, by whom the child was
brought up, and of Esha, her housemaid, both of whom are
now in this house. We have further strong collateral testimony
from Hattie Davy, now in this house, the nurse who had
the child in charge at the time of the accident, and who identifies
her by the marks on her person, especially by her different
colored eyes, — a mark which I also can corroborate. We
have articles of clothing and jewels bearing the child's initials,
to the reception and keeping of which Mrs. Ripper and Esha
will testify, and which, when unsealed, will no doubt be sworn
to by Mrs. Davy as having belonged to the child at the time of
the explosion.”

“Well, sir,” said Mr. Detritch, with a sarcastic smile, “I
think Brother Semmes will admit that all this does n't make
out a case. Unless you can bring some proof (which I know
you cannot) of improper influences being applied by my client
to induce his chief witnesses to give the testimony they did,
you can make little headway in a court of law against a party
who is fortified in what he holds by more than fourteen years
of possession.”

“Even on this point, sir,” replied Vance, “we are not weak.
Here are five original letters, with their envelopes, postage-marks,
&c., all complete, from Mr. Charlton to Colonel Delancy
Hyde, offering him and his accomplice their expenses and a
thousand dollars if they will come on to New York and testify
in a certain way. Here also are letters showing that, in the
case of a colored woman named Jacobs, decoyed from Montreal
back into slavery, the writer conducted himself in a
manner which will afford corroborative proof that he was capable
of doing what these other letters show that he did or attempted.”

As Vance spoke, he held one of the letters so that Charlton
could read it. The latter, while affecting not to look, read
enough to be made aware of its purport. His fingers worked
so to clutch it, that Detritch pulled him by the coat; and then
Charlton, starting up, exclaimed: “I 'll not stay here another
moment to be insulted. This is a conspiracy to swindle. Come
along, Detritch. Come, Mrs. Charlton and Lucy.”

He passed out. Detritch offered his arm to Mrs. Charlton.
She declined it, and he left the room. There was an interval
of silence. Every one felt sympathy for the two ladies. Mrs.
Charlton approached Vance, and said, “Will you allow me to
examine those letters?”

“Certainly, madam,” he replied.

She took them one by one, scrutinized the handwriting, read
them carefully, and returned them to Vance. She then asked
the privilege of a private conference with Hyde, and the Colonel
accompanied her into the anteroom. This interview was
followed by one, first with Mrs. Ripper, then with Mr. Winslow,
then with Esha and Mrs. Davy, and finally with Clara. During
the day Pompilard had sent home for a photograph-book

containing likenesses of Clara's father, mother, and maternal
grandmother. These were placed in Mrs. Charlton's hands. A
glance satisfied her of the family resemblance to the supposed
child.

Re-entering the parlor Mrs. Charlton said: “Friends, there
is no escape that I can see from the proofs you offer that this
young lady is indeed Clara Aylesford Berwick. Be sure it
will not be my fault if she is not at once instated in her rights.
I bid you all good evening.”

And then, escorted by Captain Onslow, she and her daughter
took their leave, and the company broke up.

Charlton, impatient, had quitted the hotel with Detritch and
sent back the carriage. They were closeted in the library
when Mrs. Charlton and Lucy returned. The unloving and
unloved wife, but tender mother, kissed her daughter for goodnight
and retired to her own sleeping-room. She undressed
and went to bed; but not being able to sleep, rose, put on a light
robe de chambre, and sat down to read. About two o'clock in
the morning she heard the front door close and a carriage drive
off. Detritch had then gone at last!

Charlton's sleeping-room was on the other side of the entry-way
opposite to his wife's. She threw open her door to hear
him when he should come up to bed. She waited anxiously a
full hour. She began to grow nervous. Void as her heart
was of affection for her husband, something like pity crept in
as she recalled his look of anguish and alarm at Vance's disclosures.
Ah! is it not sad when one has to despise while one
pities! “Shall I not go, and try to cheer him?” she asked
herself. Hopeless task! What cheer could she give unless
she went with a lie, telling him that Vance's startling revelation
was all a trick!

The laggard moments crept on. Though the gas was put up
bright and flaring, she could not have so shivered with a nameless
horror if she had been alone in some charnel-house, lighted
only by pale, phosphoric gleams from dead men's bones.

But why did not Charlton come up?

The wind, which had been rising, blew back a blind, and
swept with a mournful whistle through the trees in the area.
Then it throbbed at the casement like a living heart that had
something to reveal.

Why does he not come up?

Why not go down and see?

Though the entry-ways and the stairs were lighted, it seemed
a frightful undertaking to traverse them as far as the library.
Still she would do it. She darted out, placed her hand on the
broad black-walnut balustrade, and stepped slowly down, —
down, — down the broad, low, thickly carpeted stairs.

At last she stood on one of the spacious square landings.

What terrible silence! Not even the rattle of an early
milk-cart through the streets! Heavenly Powers! Why this
unaccountable pressure, as of some horrid incubus, upon her
mind, so that every thought as it wandered, try as she might to
control it, would stop short at a tomb? She recoiled. She
drew back a step or two up, — up the stairs. And then, at
that very moment, there was a dull, smothered, explosive sound
which smote like a hand on her heart. She sank powerless on
the stairs, and sat there for some minutes, gasping, horror-stricken,
helpless.

Then rallying her strength she rushed up three flights to the
room of Fletcher, the man-servant, and bade him dress quickly
and come to her. He obeyed, and the two descended to the
library.

Through the glass window of the door the gas shone brightly.
Fletcher entered first; and his cry of alarm told the
whole tragic tale. Mrs. Charlton followed, gave one look, and
fell senseless on the floor.

Leaning back in his arm-chair, — his head erect, — his eyes
open and staring, — sat Charlton. On his white vest a crimson
stain was beginning to spread and spread, and, higher up,
the cloth was blackened as if by fire. The vase-like ornament
which had attracted Pompilard's attention on the library table
had been drawn forth from its socket, and the pistol it concealed
having been discharged, it lay on the floor, while Charlton's
right hand, as it hung over the arm of the chair, pointed to the
deadly weapon as if in mute accusation of its instrumentality.