Helen Ford

A red spot glowed in the pale cheek of Robert Ford, who, mild as he was, could not hear unmoved this vile slander upon one he loved. To do Mr. Sharp justice, what he said was not exaggerated, but strictly in accordance with truth.

“Are you sure of this?” he asked, pacing the room in a perturbed manner.

“I am. You shall know my authority soon, but not now.”

“Now, I am not surprised at my father’s continued resentment. To traduce my Helen so cruelly!”

“You will not wonder that all this should have had the effect intended,—that of confirming your father in his opposition. You married, and left this part of the country.”

“Yes; I went to the West.”

“And did you hear nothing from your father afterwards?”

“Never, directly.”

“Yet you had not been married six months before he began to relent, and feel that he might have exercised undue severity.”

“Is it, indeed, so?” asked Robert, his face lighting up.

“It is. I need scarcely say that your cousin observed, with apprehension, your father’s returning mildness. Lest it might lead to a complete reconciliation, he resolved to get your father out of the country. He accordingly proposed a European tour, to which he procured your father’s assent. Preparations were hurriedly made. They sailed for Liverpool, and several years were spent in visiting the principal cities of Europe.”

Robert Ford, to whom this was new, listened intently.

“At length they returned. Then, in order that you might more effectually lose all trace of your father, he persuaded him to sell the estate upon which he had hitherto resided, and remove–”

“Whither?” demanded Mr. Ford, eagerly.

“I will tell you presently.”

“I had written to my father. Were none of my letters received?”

“They were,—by Lewis. Of course, he took care to suppress them. Nevertheless, your father still felt a strong desire to see you once more, and tell you that he had forgiven you. Lewis again became alarmed, and, as a last resort, caused your death to be inserted in a western paper, and shown to your father. This was sufficient for that time. Within a brief period, however, his apprehensions and your father’s desire to see you have again become excited. Your father one day caught a glimpse of you in the street.”

“What do you say?” exclaimed Robert Ford, in agitation. “My father saw me? Where does he live?”

“In this city,—in New York. He recognized you in spite of the long separation, and so did Lewis; but the latter took the greatest care to assure your father that he was mistaken; that you had long been dead. Nevertheless, he was not wholly convinced. Though not in the least doubting your cousin’s good faith, he answered that there might be some mistake; that it was possible you were still living.”

“My dear father!”

“The uncertainty, and the anxious longing to see you, to which it has given rise, has, together with his age, made him severely ill. His life is even in danger.”

“He is not dead!” exclaimed Robert, in an agitated tone.

“No, or I should have been informed. He directed your cousin to advertise for you in the public papers, such was his desire to hear from you, if still living.”

“I have not looked into a paper for months.”

“If you had, you would not have seen the advertisement. Your cousin has been much too careful for that. Though he appeared to acquiesce in your father’s desire, and made him believe that he had complied with his request, he never did so.”

“And is my father still sick?”

“He is, and his greatest desire is to see you before he dies.”

Robert Ford rose hastily, and, going to the table, took his hat.

“What would you do, sir?”

“I must go and see my father. Did you not say he wished it?”

“Stay,” said Mr. Sharp; “whatever is to be done must be done cautiously, or your cousin’s suspicions will be aroused, and your purpose frustrated. I will arrange matters, if you will authorize me.”

“Surely; but let not the delay be too long. Perhaps my father will die before I can see him.”

“I will take care to expedite matters.”

“I leave all in your hands; but tell me at least where you have obtained the information you have communicated.”

“From your cousin himself.”

“Did he confess it, then?” asked Mr. Ford, surprised.

“He consulted me professionally. But, sir,” continued Mr. Sharp, in a tone of lofty consciousness, “as soon as I became aware of the iniquity in which he desired my assistance, I at once determined to do all that might be in my power to defeat his nefarious designs.”

Nothing could exceed the moral dignity with which Mr. Sharp uttered these words.

“I will not tell you,” he continued, with commendable self-denial, “how many thousands your cousin offered, if I would assist him. But for the hope of aiding in his discomfiture, I should have rejected his offers with indignation. Money is no temptation to me where right is concerned. But to the point. In the present case, I temporized. Your cousin even now thinks I am devoted to his interests, and it is best that he should not be undeceived.”

“Do you know where my father lives?” inquired Robert, anxiously.

“It is in Fifth Avenue. After dinner I will give you the direction so that you cannot miss it. You must be cautious in your approach, and when the door is opened, proceed at once to your father’s room. It is very probable that the servant will oppose your progress, but if you yield, Lewis will take good care that you never have another opportunity. May I request on the score of prudence, that you will not compromise me, or drop the slightest intimation that I have had any agency in sending you thither?”

“My dear friend,” said Robert Ford, fervently, “you may rest assured that I will respect your wishes, of whose wisdom I entertain not a doubt.”

He shook hands with Mr. Sharp, cordially. The lawyer, with an appearance of profound emotion, put his handkerchief to his eyes, and returned the pressure.

At this moment Helen entered, followed by a waiter from a restaurant, from which, on this day of rejoicing, she had been extravagant enough to order a dinner.

The little table was quickly set out in the middle of the room, and spread with a white cloth, and upon it the savory food was placed. This was, indeed, an extraordinary occasion.

“Why, you are setting forth quite a banquet, my dear Miss Ford,” said Mr. Sharp, rubbing his hands gently, for he was by no means insensible to the pleasures of the palate.

At this moment Martha Grey, the seamstress, unaware of the lawyer’s visit, knocked at the door.

“Just in time, Martha,” said Helen, gayly. “We want you to sit on this side the table.”

“I couldn’t think of it,” said Martha, glancing at Mr. Sharp.

“I hope you will accept my daughter’s invitation,” said Mr. Ford, courteously. “Permit me, Mr. Sharp, to introduce our excellent neighbor, Miss Grey.”