Gretchen: A Novel

by Mary Jane Holmes

After a moment, during which a powerful tonic had been given to his daughter, Frank went down to his guests, who were eagerly discussing the strange story, which not one of them doubted in the least.

In her haste to reach Maude, Jerrie had dropped the bag and the two papers, which Judge St. Claire picked up and held for a moment in his hand; then passing the papers to Marian, he said:

"It can be no secret now, and Jerrie will not care. What do the papers contain?"

Running her eyes rapidly over them, Marian said:

"The first is a certificate of marriage between Arthur Tracy and Marguerite Heinrich, who were married October 20th, 18—, in the English church at Wiesbaden, by the Rev. Mr. Eaton, then the officiating clergyman. The second is a certificate of the birth and baptism of Jerrine, daughter of Arthur and Marguerite Tracy, who was born at Wiesbaden, January 1st, 18—, and christened January 8th, 18—, by the Rev. Mr. Eaton."

Then a deep silence fell upon the group, while Tom stood like one paralyzed. He understood the situation perfectly, and knew that Jerrie was mistress of Tracy Park.

"May as well vacate at once," he said at last, with an attempt to smile, as he walked slowly out of the house.

Just then Frank came down, saying that Maude insisted upon knowing what was in the papers which Marian was to read, while the others were to come up and listen. He did not seem at all like a man who had lost anything, but bustled about cheerily; and when the judge said to him apologetically, "We know the contents of two of the papers. They are certificates of the marriage of Arthur with Gretchen, and of Jerrie's birth. I hope you don't mind if we read them," he answered, briskly.

"Not at all—not in the least. Arthur and Gretchen! I thought so. Where is Tom? He must hear the papers."

He found his son sitting under the tree where he had been sitting the morning when Jerrie came near fainting there, and in his hand was a bit of wood finished like a grave-stone—the same he had whittled under the pines, and on which he was now carving, "Euchred, August —, 18—."