CHAPTER XIV

BERTHA VISITS HER FATHER’S OFFICE

Bertha knew enough of the perils of the city to make her tremble, when she considered that she was alone and unprotected. The prospect of finding suitable employment was exceedingly hopeless. Though she had often been in the city, and knew the principal localities, everything seemed strange to her; the houses and the streets wore a different aspect, for she was not now the daughter of the rich broker, but the child of want, seeking the opportunity to fulfill what had become the great mission of her existence.

Though her first object was to obtain a situation where she might procure the means of subsistence, this was not the mission of Bertha Grant. She had in her mind, clearly and hopefully defined, a higher and holier purpose. As at Woodville, in the midst of luxury and plenty, she did not live only to enjoy them; she now felt that she had been sent into the world with a great work given her to perform. An earnest and true man, from his pulpit in Whitestone, had given her the idea, and she had pondered and cherished it till it became a principle.

She believed she had been created to do good to her fellow beings, and with this noble thought in her heart she had gone upon her mission to the poor children of Dunk’s Hollow. He who spoke in Whitestone the words and the spirit of Him of Nazareth spoke through Bertha to the friendless and despised little ones who gathered around her at the Glen. His words and her words, spoken in faith and hope, and embodied in good and generous deeds, were to yield their hundredfold; and though Bertha had been withdrawn from her labors, the seeds which she had sown were still growing. Though some might perish, others would live, and thrive and mature.

In the same faith and hope which had led her to gather together the children of Dunk’s Hollow, she was now laboring to save her father and her brother--her father from suffering and sorrow, her brother from himself. This was the present mission of Bertha Grant; and it was a part of the great purpose of her existence. While she was in want she could do nothing. The body must be fed and clothed, and if she could obtain employment that would relieve her from absolute want, she would be in condition to prosecute the greater work of the hour.

Full of these thoughts she walked down Broadway, with nothing to encourage her, and without any plan or expectation to guide her doubtful footsteps. Slowly she threaded her way through the dense crowd that always throngs the street, till she came to City Hall Park. All the way she had looked in vain for any suggestion that might aid her in accomplishing her purpose. In a few hours more the night would come. She dared not go to a hotel in the great city, and she trembled to think of being friendless and homeless in those streets where villains choose darkness for deeds of sin and violence.

The thought filled her with terror, but it inspired her with new resolution. There was something to be done, and the time for doing it was short. Yet where should she go? She could not answer this question, and involuntarily she continued her walk down Broadway, till she came to Wall Street. She was now near her father’s office, and she determined to go and look at it, if nothing more.

It was a familiar locality, for she had often been to see her father during business hours. To her astonishment she found the office open, and her father’s clerk in his usual place at the desk. This looked hopeful to her, and she entered, with a beating heart, to inquire about her father.

“Miss Grant!” exclaimed the clerk, as she came in.

“Can you tell me anything about my father?” asked Bertha, as she seated herself in the chair which the clerk offered her.

“I am sorry to say that I cannot give you any good news from him,” replied Mr. Sherwood, gloomily.

“Where is he now?”

“He is where he was,” said the clerk, embarrassed.

“In the prison, you mean.”

“Yes, in the Tombs; but I am certain that he will come out without the stain of dishonor upon him.”

“I feel, I know, that he has been guilty of no crime,” added Bertha, earnestly.

“I suppose you understand the circumstances under which he was arrested?”

“I do not.”

“It is a rather complicated affair. He was arrested on the charge of fraud.”

“So I have understood.”

“But he is no more guilty of fraud than I am; and if we can only get a chance to let the truth out, we shall make the matter plain to the whole world. Grayle is at the bottom of the whole affair; he is your father’s enemy.”

“He is a very rude and hard man,” said Bertha, recalling the incidents of her departure from Woodville.

“Three or four years ago your father spoiled a dishonest speculation in which Grayle and others were engaged; this made him an enemy, though they still kept on good terms together. Some months since Mr. Grant borrowed fifty thousand dollars of him, giving him certain English securities as collateral.”

“I really don’t know what you mean,” said Bertha.

“The securities were certain papers, by which Brace Brothers, an English banking firm, supposed to be very wealthy, promised to pay certain sums of money,” continued the clerk, smiling at the perplexed look of Bertha. “In other words, Brace Brothers promised to pay your father--or the holder of the papers--twelve thousand pounds.”

“I understand that.”

“This money was to be drawn in bills of exchange, or orders. Now, when your father wanted a large sum for immediate use, he gave them to Mr. Grayle as security, because the bills of exchange were not to be drawn till September. The very next steamer that came in brought intelligence of the suspension of Brace Brothers--that is, they had stopped payment--did not pay their notes and other obligations.”

“I understand it very well.”

“Well, Grayle declared that your father knew these securities were worthless when he gave them to him, and immediately accused him of fraud. He came into the office very much excited, and talked to your father as no gentleman ever talked to another. Your father resented the charge, which made Grayle all the more angry.”

“But how could he accuse my father of fraud, when all this happened before it was known that Brace Brothers had suspended?”

“There was some reason,” said the clerk, after a pause. “One of Grayle’s friends had a letter, which had come before the transaction, in which Brace Brothers mentioned their financial embarrassments; but I am certain your father had no suspicion that they were weak. In fact,” said Mr. Sherwood, in a very low tone, “I have a letter, which I carry in my pocket since your father was arrested, that will set the matter all right. A friend of mine gave it to me. Grayle would give a thousand dollars for this letter,” added the clerk, with a triumphant air.

“I hope you will save him,” replied Bertha.

“I know I shall. Our own correspondence with Brace Brothers shows that they believed themselves to be sound. But this letter will save him, if nothing else will. All we want is to get the matter before the court. Grayle keeps getting it put off, for if the truth comes out it will ruin him.”

“He has secured Woodville,” added Bertha.

“That was the only weak thing your father did. Grayle went so far that your father was alarmed, and attempted to save his honor at the expense of his property. He gave Grayle a bill of sale of Woodville and all it contained, to keep him quiet for a few days, till he could raise the money to pay him. The villain then arrested your father and took possession of Woodville.”

“The paper said my father was going to leave the country.”

“All nonsense! He had no more idea of leaving the country than I had. Grayle watched him all the time; and when he went over to the British steamer to see a friend, who was going to Europe, he had him arrested, and then circulated the story which you read in the newspaper. Everybody believes just now that Mr. Grant is a common swindler; but we will set that matter right before long.”

“I am sure I hope so. Could I see my father?”

“I am afraid not. Your brother got in, and saw him; but since then orders have been given to admit no one but his counsel. They wouldn’t let me in. Grayle is playing a deep game, and has probably used his influence to prevent your father from seeing his friends. He is a villain.”

Mr. Sherwood’s opinions were decided, and were very emphatically delivered. They were full of hope and encouragement to Bertha, and she rejoiced that she had been led to visit the office. But, although she was comforted and assured by the intelligence she had gained, there was nothing in it which promised to supply her immediate wants. She was still homeless and friendless, for she had not the courage to place herself under the protection of Mr. Sherwood. He was a young man, and had been with her father but a few months. She was not prepared to adopt this course until all other resources had failed.

There was nothing in the facts she had just learned to change her purpose. Her father might get out of prison, but he was a ruined man. Mr. Sherwood might be mistaken in his estimate of the value of the letter in his possession. The duty of providing for herself and Fanny seemed to be just as imperative as ever.

Though she was not yet willing to ask the protection of her father’s clerk, the time might come within a few hours when she might be glad to do so. He was ignorant of her real situation, and supposed she was comfortably located in the house of some friend or relative.

“Where shall I find you, Mr. Sherwood, in case I should wish to see you again?” asked Bertha.

“You will find me here at all hours of the day and night. I have not been out of the office for more than half an hour at once since your father was arrested. I sleep on that sofa. Grayle is an unscrupulous wretch, and I don’t think he would hesitate to take any papers in the office which would serve his purpose; or even to break in, if he has the courage to do so.”

“What a terrible man he must be!” added Bertha.

“He offered me a situation in his office the day after your father was arrested. I think he would be willing to buy me up at any price.”

“I am sure my father will be grateful to you.”

“Your father always used me well, and I will not desert him if all the rest of the world does.”

“I am very thankful that he has so good a friend.”

“Oh, I only wish to do as I would be done by. If you should want anything, Miss Grant, you can call upon me. There was a small sum of money in the office when your father was arrested, though I suppose it will all come in use to pay the lawyers, and other expenses.”

“Thank you; I don’t need anything at present,” replied Bertha, who would not have touched a dollar that could be serviceable in effecting her father’s release.

At this point an elderly gentleman entered the office, and began to make inquiries of Mr. Sherwood concerning her father. He looked at Bertha for a moment, and appeared to be excited. She thought his countenance seemed familiar to her, though she was confident she had never seen him before. The clerk, perhaps thinking it would not be pleasant for her to hear her father’s situation discussed by a stranger, conducted her into the private office, and gave her the morning paper--the _Herald_.

Bertha wondered who the gentleman was, as she glanced over the columns of the paper. His face was strangely familiar, yet she was positive she had never seen him. But her attention was soon withdrawn from him by an advertisement in the paper, which caught her eye. An old gentleman, an invalid, advertised for a well-educated young lady, to read to him, and act as amanuensis.

“If I could only get that place!” said she to herself, as she wrote down on a slip of paper the address mentioned in the advertisement.

There would be hundreds of applicants for the situation; but she could try to obtain it, and she resolved to do so without a moment’s delay. As she passed through the other office, where the stranger was engaged in earnest conversation with the clerk, she said that she would call again some other time, and hastened down the stairs to the street.

The house of the invalid gentleman was in the upper part of the city, and she took the street car uptown, lest some other applicant should obtain the place before her. Without much difficulty she found the house. It was an elegant establishment, and on the door was the name of “F. Presby.” With a trembling hand, she rang the bell, which was answered by a man in a white jacket.

“I wish to see Mr. Presby,” replied Bertha.

“Which Mr. Presby?”

“The old gentleman--the invalid.”

“Another person to answer the advertisement,” said a female voice in the entry, beyond the inner door. “Tell her he is not at home, John.”

“Not at home, miss,” repeated the man in the white jacket.

“When will he be at home?” asked Bertha.

“He has left town, and will not be back until next week.”

“But he advertised for a young lady.”

“Yes, miss, he did; but, you see, the old gentleman is crazy, and don’t know what he wants. At any rate, he don’t want any young lady.”

Poor Bertha’s heart sank within her, as the nice place which she had hoped to obtain proved to be a mere shadow, and she stood gazing at the servant with a look of despair.

“Not at home, miss,” repeated the man, partially closing the door, as a hint for her to leave.

She turned and descended the steps, the man closing the door with a slam. But she had scarcely reached the sidewalk, before she heard the door open again. She turned to discover the cause, and saw a tall, pale old gentleman, with a dressing gown on, standing at the door.

“Do you wish to see me?” asked he, in feeble tones.

“I called to see Mr. Presby,” replied Bertha, a ray of hope again lighting up her soul.

“Come in, if you please.”

But the servant had told her that old Mr. Presby was crazy, and did not want a young lady to read to him. The thought of throwing herself into the company of a lunatic was not pleasing; but the sad, pale old gentleman looked so mild and inoffensive that she concluded there must be some mistake, and she followed him into the house.