The Allen House; Or, Twenty Years Ago and Now

“The business in hand,” said Mrs. Montgomery, resuming the conversation after a pause, “is of great importance to me, and may require not only a visit to England, but also to the West Indies. Unless evidence of my mother’s marriage can be found, there will be, as you know, considerable difficulty in establishing my full right to inherit my brother’s property. And my identity as the sister of the late Captain Allen must also be proved. By the will of my father, which is on record, he left all of his property to my brother. He, as far as is known, died intestate. As next of kin, I am the legal heir; but the proof is yet wanting. My mother’s cousin, a Colonel Willoughby, of whom we have before spoken, came over from England, on the strength of some vague rumors that reached the family from Jamaica, and was successful in discovering the only survivor of his uncle’s family. She saw it best to abandon her husband, as you know. My purpose in sending an agent, versed in legal matters, and used to weighing evidence, is to have such papers of Colonel Willoughby’s as the family possess and will submit for examination, carefully searched, in the hope that some record may be found in his hand-writing, sufficiently clear to establish the fact that my mother was the wife of the elder Captain Allen. So important an event as that of searching out my mother, and inducing her to flee from her husband, could hardly have taken place, it seems to me, without evidence of the fact being preserved. And my hope is, that this evidence, if it can be found, will prove of great value. So you see, Doctor, that I have good reasons for wishing to know well the agent who goes abroad with a matter so vital as this in his hands.”

I admitted the importance of a thoroughly reliable man to go upon this mission, and repeated my faith in Wallingford.

CHAPTER XIII

I saw Mrs. Montgomery a few days afterwards, and inquired if she had seen the young associate of Judge Bigelow. She replied in the affirmative.

“How does he impress you?” I asked.

“Favorably, upon the whole; though,” she added with one of her meaning smiles, “I can’t help thinking all the time about the cool, calculating, resolute way in which he went about disentangling himself from an unfortunate love affair. I look at his calm face, over which you rarely see a ripple of feeling go, and ask myself, sometimes, if a heart really beats within his bosom.”

“There does; a true, large, manly heart, full of deep feeling; you may be sure of this, madam,” I answered, with some warmth.

“I will not gainsay your words, Doctor. I trust for his sake that it may be so.”

“Leaving out the heart matter, and regarding him only as to his fitness for the work in hand, you are favorably impressed?”

“Quite so. I find him quick of apprehension, intelligent, and of sufficient gravity of deportment to ensure a respectful attention wherever he may go. He made one suggestion that ought to have occurred to me, and upon which I am acting. As no will has been found, it has been assumed that Captain Allen died intestate. Mr. Wallingford suggests that a will may have been executed; and that a thorough search be made in order to discover if one exists. In consequence of this suggestion, Blanche and I have been hard at work for two days, prying into drawers, examining old papers, and looking into all conceivable, and I had almost said inconceivable places.”

“And if you were to find a will?” said I, looking into her earnest face.

“The question would be that much nearer to a solution.”

“Is it at all probable that it would be in your favor?”

I saw her start at the query, while her brows closed slightly, as if from a sudden pain. She looked at me steadily for a few moments, without speaking; then, after a long inspiration, she said:

“Whether in my favor or not, any disposition that he has made of his property, in law and right, must, of course, stand good.”

“You might contest such a will, if not in your favor.”

She shook her head, compressed her lips firmly, and said:

“No. I should not contest the will. My belief was, when I came here, that he died without making a bequest of any kind, and that his property would go, in consequence, to the heir-at-law. This was the information that I received. If it should prove otherwise, I shall make no opposition.”

“Do you intend, under this view, continuing the search for a will?”

Something in the tone of voice touched her unpleasantly. I saw the light in her eyes glow intenser, and her lips arch.

“Why not?” she asked, looking at me steadily. I could have given another meaning to my question from the one I intended to convey, had it so pleased me, and thus avoided a probable offence. But I wished to see a little deeper into the quality of her mind, and so used the probe that was in my hand.

“If you find a will, devising the property out of your line, all your present prospects are at an end,” said I.

“I know it.”

Her voice was firm as well as emphatic.

“Then why not take the other horn of this dilemma? Give up searching for a will that can hardly be in your favor, and go on to prove your title through consanguinity.”

“And thus shut my eyes to the probable rights of others, in order to secure a personal advantage? Do you think I would do this, Doctor? If so, you have mistaken me.”

There was a tone of regret in her voice.

“Pardon me,” I replied. “The suggestion was natural under the circumstances, and I gave it utterance.”

“Were you in my place, would you give up the search here?”

She fixed on me a penetrating look.

The probe had changed hands.

“It is difficult,” I answered, “for us to say what we would do if we were to change places with another. In my experience, it is easy to see what is right for our neighbor, but very difficult to see the right way for ourselves, when under the allurement of some personal advantage.”

“Would it be right in me to give up the search?”

“I think not.”

My answer was without hesitation.

“And I will not,” she said, firmly. “If my brother has devised his property, I have only to know the terms of his will. If it is against me, well. I shall not oppose its operation.”

“It sometimes happens,” I suggested, “that a testator is manifestly out of his right mind as to the direction given to his property, and bequeaths it in a manner so evidently unwise and improper, that both justice and humanity are served in the act of setting aside the will. And it might prove so in this case.”

“I know not how that may be,” Mrs. Montgomery answered, soberly, yet firmly. “But this I do know”—she spoke resolutely—“God helping me, I will not stain my hands with gold that, in any legal right, belongs to another. What is clearly mine, I will take and use as it is my right and duty. But I must be certain that it is mine. If there is no will, I am clear as to who is the owner of this estate; if there is a will, and I and mine are not included in its provisions, I will step aside. First, however, the obligation to search for a will is imperative; and I shall continue it until clearly satisfied that no such document exists.”

What a womanly dignity there was in Mrs. Montgomery as she said this, drawing her tall form up to its full height in speaking—not proudly, but with conscious integrity!

“What is right is always best.” I made the remark as well approvingly as in expression of an immutable truth.

“Always, always,” she replied, with earnestness. “There is no blinder folly than that of grasping a present worldly good, at the expense of violated justice. Whoever does so, comes out that far wrong in the end. There is only one way that leads to peace of mind: the way of honor and right. All other ways, no matter into what rich harvest fields they may lead in the beginning, terminate in wretchedness. There never has been, and never will be, any exception to this rule. We see its operation daily, turn our eyes whatsoever way we choose. And God forbid that I should deliberately enter the way that leads to ultimate unhappiness! Self-denial in the present is better than gnawing regret in the future. The good things of this world prove to be curses instead of blessings, unless the mind be rightly adjusted for their enjoyment. And such a right adjustment is impossible where the very fact of their possession involves a moral wrong. I see this so clearly, Doctor, that I shudder inwardly at the bare imagination of committing such a wrong.”

“It is by trial that God proves us,” said I, “and may He bring you out of this one, should the trial come, as gold from the refiner’s furnace!”

“Amen!” was her solemnly uttered response; “if it should come, may I be found strong enough to do the right!”

For over a week this search for a will was continued, until it was clear to all concerned that no such document was in existence. Then preparation was made for the visit to England, in search of evidence bearing upon the identity of Mrs. Montgomery as the sister of Captain Allen. Two or three months elapsed, however, before Mr. Wallingford could so arrange his business as to be absent for the length of time it might take to complete his mission. He sailed for England in June, between three and four months after the marriage of Delia Floyd. He called to see me on the day before leaving, and I had a brief but pleasant talk with him. He was in good health and good spirits, and anticipated a successful visit.

“I shall gain,” he remarked, “in two ways by this trip. Professionally and intellectually. I have had many a dream of that land of our forefathers—England—now to be realized. I shall see London, walk its streets, and linger amid its historic places. Don’t smile at this almost boyish enthusiasm, Doctor. London has always been the Mecca of my desires.”

I had never seen him so animated. A higher life seemed flowing in his veins. His countenance had a brighter aspect than usual, and his head an erecter carriage. There was a depth of meaning in his eyes never observed before—a look as if some new born hope were lending its inspiration to his soul. Altogether manlier was his aspect and bearing than I had ever seen it.

“God speed your mission,” said I, as I shook hands with him in parting.

“If it depends on human agency, directed with earnestness, patience, and will, my mission will have a prosperous result,” he replied. “It is to be my first entirely self-reliant experience, and I think the discipline of mind it will involve must strengthen me for higher professional work than any in which I have yet been engaged. You are aware, Doctor, that my heart is in my profession.”

“So I have seen from the beginning.”

“I will not deny,” he added, “that I have ambition. That I wish to be distinguished at the bar.”