A SERPENT IN PARADISE.
Had a bombshell exploded in their midst there could not have been more pity, astonishment, and dismay, than was felt by the group of friends in the pretty little drawing-room, at the sad change in poor Charlie Cole, and the shock experienced at their first sight of the extremely plain woman beside him with the stony eyes and termagant written on her brow. But horror-struck as they are, all wear society's mark, excepting the fair-haired girl, who still sits transfixed to the piano stool; in the introductions her back is turned, though she had had one glimpse on their entrée, she having wheeled around for one instant; but now it is her turn, and Mrs. Gower, stepping towards her, laying her hand kindly on her shoulder, says, "Turn round, dear." Turning her small, clear-cut features, white as a statue, standing up, but not lifting her eyelids, she acknowledges the introduction in conventional form.
The face of Mrs. Cole, a dull red, with a redder spot marking the high cheek bones, took a momentary grey hue, while Charlie Cole, with a violent start, and a half-formed "oh!" dropped his heavy cane, for rheumatism still troubling him, he was obliged to use it as a support; Miss Crew made an involuntary step to reach it, but Mr. Blair is before her. On raising her head, her eyes meet the stony gaze of Mrs. Cole, at which, in spite of a visible effort to control herself, she trembles almost to falling.
"The piano stool is uncomfortable; take this chair," said Mr. Dale, kindly placing one beside his own, and giving her her work-basket. Oh, how grateful she is to him, as she bends over her wools and flosses.
"Allow me to take your wraps, Mrs. Cole, or will you come upstairs at once?"
"Never mind me, Mrs. Gower, I shall just unbutton my mantle."
"But you are going to stay with me, so may as well make yourself comfortable at once."
"Oh, I don't know, Mrs. Gower, Mr. Babbington-Cole requires such an amount of attendance, that, on second thought, it is best we should return to the hotel," she said, doggedly.
"But, Margaret, you told them at the Palmer House you——"
"It does not signify what I told them; that is past; perhaps your hearing has become impaired. I said, on second thought," now thinking—goodness, how they stare; think I am not spooney, I suppose; says, "You see, Mrs. Gower, I have to think for us both. A man's mind is not good for much after a long illness.'"
"My poor friend, you do look as if you had had a hard time of it," said Mrs. Gower, with latent meaning; "but you must know it would be a real pleasure to have you stay with me, and Mrs. Cole also. Do take off your muffler, Charlie, the room is warm. Excuse me calling your husband by his Christian name, Mrs. Cole, but it is a habit I must break myself off now."
"Yes, I suppose so, now he is a married man," she said, showing her teeth; "but he'd better keep muffled up."
"How did you stand the voyage, Mr. Cole?" inquired Dale.
"Very badly. You see I am pretty well battered out, and could not get about much. A stick is a shaky leg in mid-ocean."
"You are right. Did your uncle and aunt come out with you, Mrs. Cole?" continued Dale.
"What the mischief does that grey-haired, weasel-eyed man know, I wonder," she thought, saying, briefly, "Yes."
"Poor Charlie, you had nurses enough," said Mrs. Smyth; who felt so badly at seeing her old favorite so carelessly dressed, his last season's overcoat, and a purple and white muffler; looking feeble, emaciated, and unhappy, and with such a wife, that she is almost silent, and nearly in tears.
"Are you acquainted with Mr. and Miss Stone, Mr. Dale?" asked Mr. Cole, wiping the perspiration from his brow.
"No, not personally, but by reputation," he says, pointedly. "A friend of this little lady here," indicating Miss Crew, "who is also a friend of my own at London, has written me the particulars of your marriage."
"Indeed!" said the invalid, brightening, feeling braced up by being at last with friends; not so the woman he has married, who mentally wishes herself back at New York, in the congenial companionship of her uncle and aunt. She hates this pretty, modern drawing-room, with its comely women becomingly attired, its bright flowers, its home-like air.
Here Thomas enters, telling Miss Crew some friends wish to see her, at which she leaves the room for five minutes, with Mr. Dale.
"Do you purpose settling at Toronto, Mrs. Cole?" asks Mr. Blair, unconsciously referring to her as the best horse.
"I had some thoughts of doing so; but since seeing it, I rather think not."
While Mr. Blair momentarily occupies her attention, Mrs. Gower, with Mrs. Smyth, one on each side of their old friend, pet and sympathize with him more by looks than words.
On Miss Crew and Mr. Dale returning, the face of the latter wearing a set, stern look, he said, on seeing Mrs. Cole, arising to depart:
"Mrs. Cole, might I ask what has caused you to change your mind about staying with Mrs. Gower? You entered with the intention of making her a visit, and one can see at a glance that the being here would be a panacea to your unfortunate husband; I again ask, why you have changed your mind?"
During his words her face was a study, in its various stages of wrath, culminating in the hissing of the following words:
"If yours are Canadian manners, I cannot congratulate you, Mr. Dale. My reason for changing my mind is my reason, not yours."
"Your words and actions, Mrs. Cole, force me to act at once."
"Come," she said, with a sneer at the speaker, now turning to her husband, "Come, Charles, I regret to interrupt these ladies in their attentions, but you must button up your top-coat."
"I wish you'd stay even for dinner," he says, nervously.
"No, the night air is bad for you, come at once;" and she fixes him with her stony eyes.
"Sit down again, Mrs. Cole;" said Mr. Dale, firmly; and to the renewed astonishment of all, "I have something to say to you."
"No, I take no interest in the sayings of an ill-bred man. Good-evening, Mrs. Gower."
"This won't do, Mrs. Cole; I regret your line of action, as it forces a disagreeable duty upon me in my friend's drawing-room, and not in a court of law, as I had intended. My friend Dr. Annesley, of London"—at this, she set her teeth in a determined way—"Dr. Annesley has written me the sad history of this little lady."
"You are a very rude man to detain me, while you prate of a perfect stranger," she says, her face blazing, and making a move to the hall, "Come, Charles."
Mr. Cole, instead of nearing her, hobbles across the room, seating himself beside Mr. Blair, whose face with its look of power, draws him unconsciously.
"In as few words as possible, Mrs. Cole, I affirm on oath, and from indisputable evidence, both from Messrs. Brookes & Davidson, barristers, London, England, and from parties now in this house, that you, with your uncle and aunt, Mr. and Miss Stone, late of Broadlawns, Bayswater, London, England, have," he said, sternly, consulting some English letters, "appropriated the income from the estate of your late step-mother, for the last ten years, to your own uses, merely sending a sum to pay expenses at school to your step-sister, who, to further your base ends, you had banished from her native land; which allowance, even, you cruelly stopped some three years ago; since which time she has been compelled to earn her own living. Not compelled, had she had the nerve to push her claims and assert her rights; but being a nervous, timid girl, the outcome of cruel treatment by you and yours, during her childhood, she, in fear of other evil deeds from you all, dropped her surname, and assumed the maiden name of her mother; and this poor girl, who by law and the will of her dead mother, the heiress of five thousand pounds sterling, per annum, was for two years, a mere drudge, as nursery governess, at New York City." Sensation! "By a wicked fraud, you also are married to the man to whom as a child she was betrothed; but I pass this over in consideration of the feelings of your unfortunate dupe, and of a lady now here also. To return to the servitude of the girl, your step-sister, whom you robbed of her birthright. A year ago, on my wife advertising, in the columns of the New York Herald, for a governess for our little son, the girl you have wronged, answering our advertisement, was accepted; and since that time has been an honored member of our little circle."
Mrs. Cole, who has only remained in hopes he would show his hand as to what steps the prosecution will take, now in uncontrolled rage bursts forth:
"Mrs. Gower, I ask you, as my hostess, to order a servant get me a hansom, at once; I never was so insulted in my life before!" her reason for asking for a cab being, she sees now she will go away alone, and the driver will know the streets.
"My friend, Mr. Dale, does not mean his words as insults, Mrs. Cole; and I fear, I must ask you to remain until he has finished. However, my servant shall immediately telephone for a hack;" and giving the order, it was quickly flashed to Hubbard's.
Mr. Dale, now taking the trembling hand of Miss Crew, led her forward, saying deliberately:
"This, my friends, is the heiress of whom I have been speaking; who has been so basely defrauded of her fortune. This is Pearl, baptized by the family name of Margaret (her mother's name), her father was the late Edward Villiers, and she is step-sister to Mrs. Cole."
To describe the sensation his words caused, would be impossible, no one attempting to hide their horror at the wicked conduct of Mrs. Cole and her relations; or their joy at their quiet little friend's good fortune.
"It is a put-up job, a black lie from beginning to end," shouted Mrs. Cole, driven to frenzy at her defeat; and before the friends of the man whom she has married, and whom she has despised for falling into the net; "my half-sister behaved so badly, we sent her to your pious city of New York, where she would find kindred spirits," she sneered; "and she was drowned three years ago in the Niagara River."
Mr. Dale had left the room during the congratulations of Pearl Villiers, as we must now call her; and now returns with the quiet-looking couple Mrs.
Gower had seen on New Year's Day; and who proved to be none other than our old friends, Silas Jones and his loved wife Sarah, who made oath to the truth of Mr. Dale's statements.
Insane at her defeat, at her loss of power, for which she had lived, for which she had sold her soul to Mephistopheles. In a rage at her humiliation before Silas Jones and his wife, whom she has hitherto walked over, whom she feels will rejoice with her victim over her discomfiture; and whom she feels will sing the Te Deum Laudamus over his freedom, which she knows he will grasp at as eagerly as the timely rope by the drowning man; and so, hissing forth many words of fierce invective and malicious threats, she takes the hack from Holmnest.
Mr. Dale's first expressive act on returning from escorting this amiable creature to the cab is to shake hands with Mr. Cole; then, crossing the room to Pearl Villiers, to congratulate her, he ascertains she has fainted.
"No wonder, poor girl," said Mrs. Gower, coming to her relief; "I expect, this is not the first time her terrible step-sister has caused her to find relief in unconsciousness."
"Do you remember, Elaine, she fainted once before, on Mr. Smyth announcing the marriage of Margaret Villiers with your poor friend here?"
"I do, distinctly."
"I wonder," continued Mrs. Dale, "was she aware of her mother's wish that she should marry Mr. Cole?"
"Yes, Miss Pearl knew it right well, poor, long-suffering darling," says Sarah Jones, who is supporting her, while whispering soothing words of comfort. She now recovers, and is able to sit up, smiling at the sight which meets her eye, of Mr. Cole shaking Silas Jones by the hand, as if it was to be perpetual motion. Then, hobbling to the mirror, tears off his unbecoming muffler, throwing it at Tyr; saying, half wild with joy at his deliverance:
"Away with her fetters; I shall begin to look like a Christian again; if I had a razor now, it would not be used on the jugular vein, but on my beard; but Mrs. Smyth, Mrs. Gower, see how grey I am, Jove!" and he gave a glance at the fair-haired girl, who withdrew her eyes, while both color. "Medusa was my pet name for her; oh, it was a den of villainy, eh, Sarah," he said, excitedly.
"It caps anything I have ever heard," said Dale, seeing how weak Cole looks, and making him take an easy chair.
"Dinner is served, ma'am."
After dining, Mr. and Mrs. Jones sitting down with them at the pressing invitation of Mrs. Gower, Mr. Dale read all the communications he had received relating to the fraud practised by Miss Villiers, and the Stones antagonistic to the interests of Pearl Villiers; Brookes & Davidson undertaking to prosecute in the interests of the latter, should she so decide. Before leaving England, some weeks previous, they had robbed and plundered the estate to such an extent as to reduce the actual income from five thousand pounds sterling per annum to three thousand.
These facts had been ascertained by Messrs. Brookes & Davidson, who said, as the delinquents had sheltered themselves beneath the stars and stripes, they were safe personally; but some of the properties could be wrested from parties to whom fraudulent sales had been made by Mrs. Cole. Her plea would of course be that she, Margaret Villiers, had wed Charles Babbington-Cole; but that had no weight, for a clause in the will would make such plea not worth a row of pins; they, the lawyers, only wishing they were in England, when they would indict them for fraud.
"You will prosecute the wretches, Pearl; for we are going to make you feel at home, and call you so," said Mrs. Dale, eagerly.
But the girl, saying in a low voice, though heard by all, that she will not go to law; that three thousand per annum is ample for her; that in most cases, perhaps, the lessees were not cognizant of the fraudulent sale, and so would be punished, while the guilty people were the gainers.
"They have a nice little nest egg," said Mr. Blair, indignantly; "so does the green bay tree flourish."
"Yes," said Mr. Dale; "and will likely pose as saints on the other side. Only that our little friend here would suffer much during a complicated law-suit, and that the enemy are hard to reach, I would advise her not to turn the other cheek, as she is doing but to fight; however," he says, smilingly, "for Canada, Miss Pearl, you are quite a little heiress."
"Ladies and gentlemen," said Silas Jones, as he and his happy wife bid them all good-night, "Sarah and I don't know how to thank you for your kindness to our Miss Pearl."
"Yes; may the blessings of heaven rest upon you for it," said Sarah, tearfully and reverently, as the girl kissed her, lovingly.
"Amen," said Silas; "and I would add that this poor gentleman has gone through a fiery furnace of affliction in his forced union with that vixen of the iron will and heart of stone; but she will trouble you no more, sir, it was only your name she wanted; it meant gold."