“WHATEVER STANDS IN MY PATH!”
“Did she really mean it, I wonder? Would it spoil her party for her if I should not go?” mused Gerald Winchester, as the daintily ruffled skirts of Allison Brewster disappeared around a corner and his glance shifted to the lovely rosebud which he still held, “or is it just her sweet, impulsive way of saying pleasant things to make one feel comfortable and happy?”
As he concluded this soliloquy, he raised the bud to his lips and bestowed a light caress upon it.
At the same instant a step behind him caused him to turn suddenly, to find himself again confronted by the sneering face of Mr. John Hubbard.
“Very pretty! very interesting, truly; but rather a dangerous sentiment, and presumptuous, as well, for a boy to indulge in, with only fifteen dollars a week,” the man sarcastically observed.
Then without giving Gerald time to reply, had he been so disposed, he added sharply:
“Have you copied those papers relating to the Wynn estate?”
“Yes, I have just finished them,” the young man returned, as he took a package from his desk and passed it to his companion, who observed that his hand was trembling and that he had grown very white about the mouth, while there was a gleam of fire in his eyes which betrayed that he was not lacking in spirit, although he was able to hold it under perfect control.
As John Hubbard took the papers he managed to brush to the floor the rosebud which Gerald had laid upon the desk.
“Take care, please,” said the young man, and stooping eagerly to recover his treasure.
But he was not quick enough, for the other ruthlessly set his foot upon it, crushing it flat and destroying all its beauty.
For a minute the boy and the man stood looking straight into each other’s eyes, their faces as colorless as the collars about their necks.
“That is typical of what happens to everything that stands in my way; so beware! young beggar, that you do not covet what is beyond your reach,” said John Hubbard menacingly.
Gerald Winchester’s hands were clenched so fiercely that the nail of every finger turned purple; but his bearing was that of a hero who could face a cannon’s mouth and never flinch.
Presently he drew in a long, deep breath, his hands relaxed; then he said, as quietly as if he were making the most commonplace observation imaginable:
“Nothing is unattainable, Mr. Hubbard, to him who is determined to win.”
“Aha! say you so? You speak with the impulse and inexperience of youth; but, look there, and—be warned,” sneered his companion, as, lifting his foot he made a gesture indicating the mutilated bud.
Then turning abruptly, he left the office, while Gerald, with a ghastly face and trembling hands, stooped to recover the ruined flower.
He tenderly gathered up every discolored leaf and petal, arranging them neatly upon a sheet of blank paper, which he carefully folded and placed within an envelope.
“It shall be my mascot,” he muttered, with a determined gleam in his eyes, as he put it in an inside pocket of his vest, “and as sure as I live, Mr. John Hubbard, you will find me no mean rival. I will yet stand where I can ask for what I want and not be accused of being a fortune-hunter, either.”
Mr. Brewster came in, a few minutes later, and Gerald’s thoughts were turned into other channels, although throughout the day he was never for a moment unconscious of that bruised and discolored bud which lay so near his heart.
Two weeks slipped rapidly by, and the day set for Allison Brewster’s lawn-party dawned clear and beautiful.
Gerald had, meantime, received by mail a formal card of invitation with the words “Come early” delicately penciled in one corner, and he had been looking eagerly forward to the occasion, although he said nothing to any one of his intention to be present.
In his heart he knew that Mr. Brewster, in spite of his own fondness for him, would not approve of the existence of any tender relations between him and his peerless daughter, and he greatly feared, should he intimate that he had been bidden to the approaching festival, that some extra work would be forthcoming to keep him away.
While he would not wilfully betray the confidence of his employer, he, at the same time, believed that he had a perfect right to love Allison, since, morally and intellectually, he was her equal, if not her superior; while he felt sure, so sanguine is youth, that he would eventually work his way up to a position no less enviable than hers—both socially and financially.
“I will take no unfair advantage,” he said to himself, “but I will make the most of my opportunities; and, if by and by, Allison should respond to my affection, I will claim her right to act for herself, and my right to abide by her choice, and”—with a flash of fire in his dark eyes—“I am no fragile bud to be crushed by the heel of any man’s boot.”
Having settled matters thus in his own mind, Gerald looked eagerly forward to the fulfilment of his promise to Allison.
On Saturday morning, however, John Hubbard presented himself before Mr. Brewster—Gerald being out on some errand—and stated that a matter of importance in Jersey City needed prompt attention, and it would be necessary to despatch some trustworthy person to deliver certain valuable documents into the hands of the party whom they most concerned.
“I would go myself,” said the wily expert and confidential lawyer, “but I have to prepare for that case that is coming off on Monday, and I cannot attend to both matters.”
“Very well, send whom you like to Jersey,” said the banker briefly.
“I think perhaps that Winchester might go—that is, if you can spare him; he is reliable and as prompt as the clock,” said the crafty schemer, who, for two weeks, had borne this thing in mind for the very purpose of keeping Gerald from the lawn-party.
“Yes, I can spare him,” replied Mr. Brewster, “and you are right—Gerald is as true as steel, and can be trusted with any commission.”
John Hubbard’s white teeth gleamed for a moment beneath his mustache in a sinister smile at this high tribute to the young man; then remarking that he would make up the package, he disappeared from the room, chuckling to himself as he went.
A half hour later he took the parcel to Gerald, who with difficulty concealed his disappointment when he was told what was required of him, for he knew that it would be utterly impossible for him to go to Jersey City to perform his errand and return in season to keep his promise to Allison; at least, it would be evening before he could reach Yonkers, where Mr. Brewster’s country home was located, and the party would be over by that time.
He felt very sure from the mocking gleam in his eye as he handed the paper to him, that John Hubbard had cunningly contrived this strategy for the express purpose of making him miss the pleasure he was anticipating. But he must obey orders, and he departed upon his mission without a word of protest.
He first made his way to a florist’s, however, to order a dainty basket of forget-me-nots sent by express to Allison, inserting in the box with them a card upon which he hastily wrote the following:
“New York, 11 A. M.—I am at this moment unexpectedly sent out of town upon important business, and so cannot go to Y., as I promised. Am very sorry, but my offering will prove that I am not unmindful of the occasion.G. W.”
Having seen his tribute despatched, Gerald went on his way with what grace he could muster, although a feeling of bitterness against the marplot of his pleasure rankled sorely in his heart.
“What can it matter to him whether I am fond of Allison or not?” he mused, as he boarded a car for the ferry. “He is a man twice her age, and he cannot be so deluded as to think that she would ever marry him. It would be monstrous,” and a mocking laugh broke from him at the thought and the remembrance of what Allison had said about “getting a chill,” whenever John Hubbard came near her.
Nevertheless, at that very moment John Hubbard was seated in the private office of Adam Brewster, making a formal proposal for the hand of the banker’s daughter.
“You know I am a man of few words,” he remarked, coming to the point at once, as he took the chair his employer indicated, “and so I am here to confess to you, Mr. Brewster, that I love your daughter and to ask your permission to win her for my wife.”
The banker regarded the man in speechless astonishment as he paused, after making the above startling declaration. It was a full minute before he could recover himself sufficiently to reply.
“You want to marry my daughter!” he at last burst forth, with unconscious emphasis upon the pronoun. “Good Heaven! she is only a child!”
“I know that she is very young, sir, and, of course, I do not expect your sanction to a union under two or three years,” John Hubbard returned, shooting a searching look at his companion from his crafty eyes. “I simply want your consent to such an arrangement, and your influence in my favor with Miss Allison——”
“But——” began Mr. Brewster, with white lips and an evident effort at self-control.
“Believe me,” interposed his companion. “I appreciate your affectionate desires for her, and realize that you aspire to an assured position for her; but I believe I can realize even your most extravagant wishes for her in that respect. You know something of my circumstances, Mr. Brewster, but I have to tell you that my interest in this bank, my estates in New Jersey and Virginia are but a small part of my wealth. Let me ask you to examine this memoranda, and then possibly you will realize that my offer is not one to be despised,” said John Hubbard, as he took a small book from his pocket and passed it to his companion.
Mr. Brewster took it mechanically and silently examined the pages for several minutes, his face growing strangely grave and rigid as he did so.
Finally he lifted his glance to the expert’s face.
“John, I had no idea you were so rich a man,” he observed.
“Will I do for a son-in-law?” queried the man flippantly, and with a little smile of triumph.
“That is a difficult question to answer,” said Mr. Brewster, flushing a deep crimson with the effort he made to restrain his impulse to kick the man from his presence for his vulgarity and presumption, for, clever as he had become as a business man, he was possessed of no natural refinement, and the banker would far rather have seen Allison immured in a convent than the wife of such a man, useful as he was in certain ways.
“Why is it a difficult question?” sharply demanded the would-be suitor.
“Well, first and foremost, Allison is far too young to have any matrimonial ideas instilled into her mind; she has two years yet to go to school——”
“I told you I would wait—I expected to wait,” interposed John Hubbard impatiently, and with a fiery gleam in his eyes. “I have already waited and toiled years, with this one hope in view—for I have loved the child ever since she was a little girl—strange as it may seem—and a few years more will not matter so very much, provided I have your consent and influence to back me. Meantime, I shall be growing richer,” he concluded, as if that were the one inducement to be considered.
“But Allison’s wishes must be considered,” said the banker, a trifle nervously. He could not bind himself to sell his darling, and yet he knew that this man would make a dangerous foe; there were certain reasons why he did not wish to excite his enmity. “At least,” he added, “I cannot force her affections—she must choose her own husband.”
“Ah! do you intend to allow her to do that? Suppose she should love and choose a poor man—a common clerk, for instance, with a mere pittance?” and the expert’s eyes gleamed maliciously.
“Humph! Ah! well—I don’t think I could quite agree to that,” coldly responded the banker. “The man who marries Allison must at least be able to match her fortune dollar for dollar.”
“I can very nearly do that now.”
“I see you can, John, and I own that you have been very clever—far more clever than I gave you credit for being. I cannot quite understand it. I am greatly surprised and—and, of course, am—ahem!—honored by your proposal——”
“Then be kind enough to give me some definite answer,” bluntly interposed Mr. Hubbard.
“Really, John, you must give me time—this has come upon me so unexpectedly, I am wholly unprepared to pledge myself to anything,” Mr. Brewster replied thoughtfully, and beginning to recover something of his habitual dignity.
“Very well, take time; but, meantime, give me a chance. By the way, I believe you have a lawn-party, or something of the kind, out at Lakeview to-day, do you not?”
Again Adam Brewster flushed, and he longed to show his companion the door and tell him never to come into his presence again; but, as previously intimated, there were reasons why he dared not offend him.
So, restraining his anger, he called a smile to his lips and blandly responded:
“Yes, my daughter is going to entertain some of her friends this afternoon; it will be rather a juvenile affair; but perhaps you would enjoy seeing the young folks amuse themselves; if so, come home with me and look on for a while.”
“Thank you, I shall be happy to do so,” promptly returned John Hubbard, with a vicious gleam of his ghastly teeth.
And thus it happened that just as Allison Brewster came downstairs to receive her first guests she was confronted by “the man who always gave her a chill,” and who now drove all the brightness from her face, and made her feel that her party was doubly spoiled by his presence and Gerald’s absence.
“Why couldn’t papa have sent him, instead of Gerald, on that errand rather than bring him here, where he isn’t wanted?” she said to herself, with a feeling of resentment.
But she was a well-bred little lady, and, bowing courteously to her self-invited guest, she thanked him politely for the bouquet of magnificent roses with which he presented her, but which she quietly handed to a servant, charging her to put them in water, and—never thought of them again.
But upon her breast—nestling among the cascade of filmy lace that trimmed her spotless dress of India lawn—there was a lovely cluster of forget-me-nots, which, with a thrill of delight—in spite of her disappointment at his enforced absence—she had culled from Gerald’s dainty basket, which was now standing upon the dressing-case in her room, to gladden no eyes but her own.
Almost unconsciously her hand fluttered caressingly among the delicate blossoms, even while she stood talking with John Hubbard; then, all at once, glancing out upon the lawn, she gave a little cry of joyous surprise and sprang forward to meet—Gerald himself!