They had now reached the door of the lodging-house, and stumbled up the dark staircase to their rooms.
“Good night, Mr. Coleman,” said Helen.
“So it is still Mr. Coleman?”
“Good night, Herbert,” said Helen, timidly.
“Good night, little sister. Good night, and pleasant dreams.”
CHAPTER XX.
THE CANDLE FLICKERS.
Leaving Margaret to recover slowly at the little cottage under her mother’s care, and Helen and her father to the tranquil existence which, though humble, contents them, we pass to a nearer view of Lewis Rand and his uncle, whose last days are imbittered by the artful machinations of his nephew.
We stand before a palace-like structure, fronting on Fifth Avenue, whose imposing exterior scarcely gives an adequate idea of the interior magnificence. But few homes, even in that aristocratic quarter, are more sumptuously furnished. Yet it would be difficult to say how far all this splendor contributes to the happiness of its owner. Happiness is quite independent of wealth, and what wealth can procure. Of what avail is it, that curtains of the richest damask keep out the too intrusive sunlight, or that carpets of the finest texture cover the floors, since the shutters are always closed, and the magnificent parlors rarely echo the steps of a visitor? Of what avail is the gallery of really exquisite paintings, selected at an immense cost from European collections? Hidden from the curious eye, lest perchance some harm might come to them, never looked upon by the possessor, they might as well be buried under ground, so far as concerns the actual enjoyment derived from them.
Mr. Rand has never recovered from the loss of his son. Great as was the shock he experienced from that son’s plebeian choice, for such he considered it, he would have made advances towards a reconciliation long before, but for the vigilance and adroit manœuvring of his nephew Lewis. The latter well knew that this would be fatal to his hopes of succeeding as heir presumptive to his uncle’s immense wealth. Accordingly, as soon as his uncle’s first passionate anger began to show signs of abatement, he was persuaded by Lewis to undertake a European tour. This occupied several years, during which they resided, for different lengths of time, in the principal European capitals. It was at this time that most of the articles of taste and luxury which now adorned the city mansion were first collected.
But there is nothing that can supply to the heart the place of a lost affection. Mr. Rand returned to America restless and unhappy for the lack of that which his own act had driven from him. Had his son been at hand, he would have offered to receive him back, but it was not till some time afterwards that he heard of his being in Chicago. Whether Lewis suspected any disposition to relent is not certain, but, as we have already seen, he thought it politic to give his uncle the impression that his cousin was dead. Of this he did not find it difficult then to convince him, and so, for a time, he breathed easier. But the recent glimpse of Robert had aroused in the father a hope which Lewis found it exceedingly difficult to stifle. To this hope may be attributed the change in the phraseology of the will, which the nephew had taken such criminal pains to neutralize. He was in perpetual apprehension that his cousin might, by some means, learn the fact of his father’s residence in the city, and, in consequence, make an attempt to obtain an interview. This must be avoided at all hazards. The quiet manner in which they lived rendered the chance of discovery a small one, and the present alarming illness of his uncle, which Lewis regarded as a fortunate circumstance, made that chance still smaller.