CHAPTER XXXV.
THE LAST OF THE THREE MILLIONS.
Mary did not faint, but all the springs of life within her seemed to be suddenly dried up, and she clung to the arm of her husband as though she feared he would be torn from her. The reappearance of Eliot Buckstone meant only one thing to her--that, whereas she had been the wife of Eugene Hungerford for five happy years, she was now no longer his wife. Those two children were Eugene’s by the law of nature, but not by the law of the land. What was his was not theirs by the cold formula of the world’s way.
Those who had known Eliot Buckstone were startled by his appearance among them. Had the dead risen? Had the grave given up its headless trunk, which, reunited with the temple of the mind, now stood before them to confuse and confound the living, and wrench asunder the loving hearts interlocked with each other?
Dr. Lynch stood with folded arms gazing upon his victims. His hour of triumph, so long waited for, had come. Banished for years from that mansion, he came now, like an avenging demon, with woe and desolation in his train. He was satisfied.
“Mr. Lester, you will perceive that I have established the truth of my statement,” said he, when the party had in some measure recovered from their astonishment.
“Who is this man?” demanded the principal trustee, unable fully to comprehend the situation, though he could not help seeing that a tremendous change had suddenly come over the face of affairs in the Hungerford family.
“This gentleman is Mr. Eliot Buckstone; he is the legal husband of the lady who has hitherto been known as Mrs. Eugene Hungerford.”
“Can this be true?”
“She is my wife,” said Eliot Buckstone, hardly raising his eyes from the floor, upon which he had gazed intently from the moment he entered the room.
Ross Kingman stepped forward and looked at him. The murdered man was certainly alive. The grave in the old cemetery contained not the remains of Eliot Buckstone. The stain of blood no longer rested upon the brother of Mary. No one doubted the facts, and busy minds were eagerly seeking the solution of the problem. All looked at Dr. Lynch. There was a new chapter in the dark history of the murder yet to be read, and the popular physician was the only man to whom they could look for a translation.
“Mary, I have done all my evil work now,” said Buckstone, looking towards Eugene’s wife. “Do not shrink from me. I will leave you now, and you shall never see my face again.”
“Was this person legally married to Mrs. Hungerford?” asked Mr. Lester.
“She has her marriage certificate and an attested copy of the records,” interposed the doctor.
“And this was the reason why you were so anxious to establish the legality of her marriage,” said Eugene, bitterly.
Dr. Lynch bowed coldly, while a devil’s smile gleamed upon his face.
“Mr. Lester, are you satisfied?” demanded he.
“No one seems to dispute your astounding declarations,” answered the trustee.
“No one can dispute them, sir.”
“Villain, scoundrel, knave, as I took this man to be, I never deemed him capable of such refined rascality as this,” exclaimed Dick Birch.
“Mr. Birch, your opinions are entirely gratuitous,” sneered the doctor. “You are a legal gentleman; if you have anything to say in defence of your friends’ case, why don’t you say it?--not waste your breath in idle vituperation.”
“I am confounded by the measure of villany to which you have attained.”
“These are not arguments, Mr. Birch,” said the doctor, stiffly.
“The best argument for you would be a hemp rope,” added Dick, stepping out into the middle of the floor. “I wish to be a gentleman and a Christian, but I never was so tempted to take a man by the throat as I am at this moment.”
“Mr. Birch, I do not aspire to be a common blackguard. I cannot hope to reach your heights in that capacity.”
Dr. Lynch was very angry, but he tried to look dignified and contemptuous.
“Mr. Lester,” he continued, “I am willing to answer any questions affecting the matter at issue; but no doubts seem to be raised in regard to the truth of my assertions. I therefore protest against further proceedings in this settlement, and claim the half million which belongs to me by the terms of my step-father’s will.”
“The trustees are not prepared to admit your claim without further investigation.”
“Certainly; any time you may desire will be cheerfully granted on my part.”
“Perhaps Mr. Hungerford, who is the only party concerned in opposition to your interests, may be willing to admit your claim.”
“I am not willing to admit it,” said Eugene, whose breast was racked with terrible emotions.
“It would be well to settle the matter as quietly as possible,” suggested the distinguished lawyer from Baltimore. “Perhaps Dr. Lynch requires nothing more than the payment of his claim, and will be willing to permit a quiet and amicable adjustment.”
“Dr. Lynch is not disposed to put any one to unnecessary inconvenience; though he cannot forget that he has been banished from this house like a knave, and treated as one unworthy to associate with the magnates of Pine Hill,” added the doctor.
“And you are unworthy; if they were all beggars they would spurn and despise you,” said Dick Birch.
“You hear, gentlemen, what inducements I have to pursue a conciliatory policy,” continued the doctor.
“Pursue any policy you please,” added Dick. “Gentlemen, this is all a farce.”
“Do you think so, Mr. Birch?” demanded Dr. Lynch.
“I do; I know it.”
“Won’t you oblige the company present by proving that it is a farce,” sneered the doctor.
“I purpose to do so.”
“Will you deny that this gentleman is Mr. Eliot Buckstone?”
“I will not; that gentleman undoubtedly is Mr. Eliot Buckstone, in spite of some prejudices we might have to the contrary.”
“He was married to the lady who has for several years been known as Mrs. Eugene Hungerford. Can you deny this?”
“No,” replied Dick. “Do not be alarmed, Mrs. Hungerford.”
“And the marriage was a legal one.”
“No; it was not!” shouted Dick.
“Mr. Birch, you are a rash man to make such a statement.”
“If my rashness does not lead me to put my hand upon your throat, you need not complain of it.”
“Your threats are idle. Can you prove what you say?” continued Dr. Lynch, with a sneer.
“I can.”
“Well, why don’t you?”
All eyes were now directed towards Dick Birch. It was an exciting moment. Even Mary, who would have given all the world six years before to prove her first marriage, was painfully anxious to have it declared illegal.
“Do not mock us, Dick,” said Eugene, fearfully agitated.
“I speak only the truth, Hungerford. The God of eternal justice does not permit this wretch to desolate your happy home. Be calm, Mary,” added Dick, as he moved towards the door.
“The proof, Mr. Birch--the proof!” said Dr. Lynch, with triumphant assurance.
Dick left the room.
“That is the last of him,” sneered the doctor. “Abuse proves nothing. I have been foully wronged and ill-treated by that man. Yet I am expected to be patient, and to be gentle and conciliatory. Mr. Hungerford, it has been your misfortune to have a bad adviser.”
“Silence, sir!” said Eugene, sternly.
“As you please. I am not disposed to annoy you in any manner. Between you and me this matter can be speedily adjusted, but you must send Mr. Birch away.”
“Mr. Birch is my friend; I will hear no abuse of him from you.”
“This is a plain case, as you perceive. Here is Mr. Buckstone himself; he is the best kind of evidence.”
“And here is Mrs. Buckstone herself!” shouted Dick Birch, leading Miss Thompson into the room.
The baby had been troublesome, and she had volunteered to sit by the crib when the party left the supper table.
“Who?” demanded Dr. Lynch, with a broad laugh.
“Mrs. Eliot Buckstone,” replied Dick.
“I think not,” sneered the wretch.
“Ellen!” exclaimed Buckstone, starting back as Miss Thompson came forward.
“O, Eliot!” cried she, bursting into tears, and sobbing as though her heart would break.
“What farce is this?” asked the doctor, beginning to look a little pale.
“This is a part of the old farce,” added Dick.
“Who is this woman?” gasped Dr. Lynch.
“She is my wife,” replied Buckstone, hanging his head with shame.
“Have you deceived me? Have you made a fool of me?”
“You were that in the beginning. Knaves and fools are twin brothers,” said Dick.
“If I did deceive you, I was deceived myself,” replied Buckstone.
“Is this woman your wife?” hissed the doctor, now so agitated by stirring emotions that he could hardly speak.
“She is.”
“When were you married to her?”
“Seven years ago.”
“Was it a legal marriage?”
“It was.”
“I have the certificate,” added the weeping lady, who now began to comprehend the situation.
“Then you have deceived, duped, cheated me!” cried the doctor.
“Unintentionally I have; but, from the deepest depths of my heart, I thank God that your villanous conspiracy has come to grief!” added Buckstone, fervently.
“Good! There is some hope of you, Buckstone,” exclaimed Dick.
Eugene threw his arms around the neck of Mary, and pressed her to his bosom. She smiled in her tears; she did not think that she had been no wife when she married him who stood by her side, and folded her to his heart. The world was not there; it could not frown.
Dr. Lynch flew up and down the room, smarting under the sting of this final defeat, the object of contempt and reprobation to all who beheld him. The last half million had eluded his grasp; his dream of wealth was exploded; his vision of vengeance was dissipated in the most crushing blow he had ever received.
“Keep cool, doctor,” said Dick, in taunting tones.
The discomfited wretch paused before him, boiling over with passion. Dick laughed in his face, and he dared not resent it.
“We begin to understand the past as well as the present,” said Eugene.
“The doctor’s confession was the biggest lie of all,” added Dick. “I think we had better look up the facts at once, while the doctor is present.”
But the convicted villain at these words rushed from the house.
“No matter,” laughed Dick. “There is a hole in this millstone. Mr. Buckstone, you acknowledge that this lady is your wife,” he added, nodding to Miss Thompson.
“I do; and if she can forgive me, I will endeavor to atone for the wrong I have done.”
“Freely, Eliot,” said she, giving him her hand. “If you are truly sorry, and mean to shun your evil ways, I cannot reproach you.”
“I have hated this business from the beginning; but after I had been paid for it, I could not honorably refuse to complete the contract.”
“When were you married to Miss Thompson?” asked Dick.
“Seven years ago, at Eastport.”
Buckstone told his story. On a visit to Eastport, while he was a student of art, he had fallen in love with Ellen Thompson, whose father was a sea captain. They were married, and went to New York. They lived happily for a year, when Buckstone’s dissolute habits destroyed their peace. He was a periodical drunkard. For three, six, or even twelve months he entirely abstained from the cup, and then his period of dissipation lasted from four to twelve weeks. In one of these seasons he abandoned his wife, and she was left destitute, as Mary had been. She wrote to her father, and the indignant parent hastened to her assistance. He conveyed her to his home. She was an only child, and her mother was dead. Captain Thompson resolved that she should never return to her husband; but the stricken wife refused to be comforted. Her hopes had been wrecked.
Captain Thompson was appointed to the command of a brig for a voyage to the West Indies and back. He could not leave Ellen alone in her misery, and he thought the sea voyage would benefit her health, and help her to forget her grief. She went with him. Before her departure she wrote a letter to Buckstone, whom she still loved in spite of his bad conduct, inviting him to send his reply to Gonaives. This was the last he knew of her, until he met her in the drawing-room at Pine Hill.
Three months after the receipt of her letter, Buckstone saw in the newspapers an account of the wreck of Captain Thompson’s vessel, and the loss of all on board, except the negro cook. He had written to her, as requested, but now his wife was dead. He was sober then, and he grieved for the lost one; and he was sincere, though his volatile nature could not long cling to a sorrow.
Ellen was not lost; she was not even in the brig when she was wrecked. On the passage out, she had become a great favorite with an English lady, whose husband was a merchant in Gonaives. On her arrival in Hayti, she was warmly welcomed at the house of her friend, and, as her father intended to make another voyage to the same port immediately, she was persuaded to spend a few months in the family of the merchant. Captain Thompson, finding her so well contented with her new friends, and thinking the change would be mentally and physically beneficial to her, raised no objections to the continuation of the visit. The news of the wreck of the brig and the loss of her father was a heavy blow; but having no friends at home, she remained with the family of the merchant for some months.
Her husband’s letter reached her, though long delayed, and she determined to return to him. She wrote to him, announcing her intention, and sailed for New York. She expected to be folded in his arms when she stepped on shore; but no husband greeted her, and she began to search the city for him. She found his last residence, and there heard the terrible story of his murder in Poppleton--an event which had occurred three months before her arrival.
At this time Dick Birch was in New York, inquiring into the antecedents of Buckstone. One of the persons to whom Ellen applied referred her to him for information. Her sad story was told. She was a penniless woman. Dick took her to the home of his father, on his return, and finally she was installed as the missionary at Poppleton, at his suggestion. He had advised her to resume her maiden name, and to conceal her relations with Buckstone. He was not altogether satisfied, at first, that she was the wife of Buckstone; for it was possible that he had deceived her, as he had Mary. In Poppleton it would injure her to be known by her husband’s name. It was the way of the world to condemn without much inquiry. It could not be pleasant to Eugene and Mary to be reminded of the past by his name. Whether he was right or wrong, he deemed it best for all that Ellen’s previous history should be studiously concealed. It was simply a measure of humanity, for he had no suspicion that Buckstone was still living. There was no question of the marriage now; no one denied it.
“Mr. Buckstone, we supposed you were killed,” said Dick, when the story of Ellen had been collated from both parties.
“I was not.”
“I supposed the blow I gave you would have killed any man,” added Ross.
“I should certainly have perished if Dr. Bilks had not saved me.”
“Explain how it was,” said Dick.
“I was thrown off the cliff; I don’t know whether the water partially restored me to consciousness, or whether I struggled; but the first distinct recollection I had was of being on the beach with the doctor. What he did for me I don’t know, but I was as well as ever in half an hour, with the exception of a terrible pain in my head, caused by the blow I had received. I did not get over it for a month. Dr. Bilks----”
“Dr. Lynch is his real name,” interposed Dick.
“Dr. Lynch, then, explained what he wanted of me. He had sent for me, and offered me a thousand dollars if I would publicly marry Miss Kingman. I intended to claim my wife again, but I wanted the money. I had always been short of funds. He wished me to marry her to prevent Mr. Hungerford from doing so. If I spoke of any doubts in regard to the legality of the marriage in Providence, it was only to get the money offered to me.”
“What did the doctor say he wanted of you?” asked Dick, when Buckstone exhibited a tendency to enlarge upon his own excuses.
“He laid out the plan just as he has carried it out. It would appear on the following day that I had been murdered by Ross Kingman. This was what he wanted, he said; he wished Mr. Hungerford to marry Mary then, if I would do as he wished me to do. He proposed to give me three thousand dollars a year for six years if I would assist. The offer blinded my eyes, and----”
“You accepted it.”
“I did; and he stipulated that I should leave the town before morning, and remain in some foreign land until he needed my attendance. Mary would apparently be a widow. I told him how to procure the evidence of our marriage, and gave him a letter to Dorning. Hungerford would make her his wife, and live in perfect confidence with her until the time when the three millions would come to him by the conditions of his uncle’s will. Dr. Bilks, or Dr. Lynch, explained the whole matter to me. At the right time I was to appear, claim Mary as my wife, and thus prove that the child was illegitimate, if there was one.
“I had been wishing for years to go to Italy to study art. The means were now within my hand, and the doctor promised to remit the three thousand dollars to me every year. He has done so faithfully and punctually; though I hoped he would fail, for I was disgusted with the business.”
“What did you do while on the beach? We found a body at the bottom of the channel which was identified as yours.”
“There had been a man by the name of Goodwin drowned that day. The doctor took me into the boat, and rowed down to the cliff, where he had found the body wedged in among the rocks. We conveyed it back to the beach. We then went to the doctor’s office, where I wrote the letter to Dorning, and he wrote something--I don’t know what. He gave me a suit of his clothes, and a draft on New York for three thousand dollars, the first instalment of the reward. I put on the clothes, and we returned to the beach. The garments were removed from the corpse, and mine substituted for them. My wallet, porte-monnaie, and all the contents of my pockets were left upon the body. Even the rings upon my fingers were transferred to the hand of the dead man.
“To my horror the doctor cut off the head of the corpse, tied it up in his handkerchief, and put it into the boat. He said this was to prevent any one from supposing the remains were not mine. We then took the body out into the channel a little way, fastened a fifty-six pound weight we found in the boat to it, and sunk it with a rope. He fastened a stone to the end of the rope, and threw it overboard.”
“What was that for?”
“Dr. Lynch said after the body had laid there a month or so, there could be no possibility that any friend of the deceased would recognize it. He intended to make everything perfectly sure. He meant to fish up the rope some night, and let the body be found, and it would satisfy all that I was dead. When all this was done, we left the island, landing near the Point. I left him there, and walked ten miles before morning. At East Summerville I hired a boy to drive me to Newington, in his father’s wagon. At this place I took the morning train for Boston, keeping out of sight in the cars, to avoid being recognized by any one from Poppleton. I took the first steamer for Liverpool, and made my way to Italy, where I resided most of the time till my return two months ago.”
The absorbing interest of these narratives had thrown the eminent trustees entirely into the shade; but when they were finished, Mr. Lester proceeded to hand the securities to Eugene, which he did with the utmost precision and formality.
“Mr. Lester, as a thank offering for the blessings this night has confirmed to me, not the least of which is my wife, I purpose to carry out the original intentions of my uncle, so far as the charitable institutions are concerned,” said Eugene.
“You astonish me, Mr. Hungerford!” exclaimed the chairman of the trustees, who might, with entire truth, have added that he believed Eugene was crazy.
“The city of Baltimore was the home of my uncle. His property was accumulated there; and I deem it no more than right that the place of his residence should have good reason gratefully to remember him. The three asylums shall be founded, and half the three millions shall be appropriated to that purpose. My sister has already received her full share. If Dr. Lynch had behaved like an honest man, he would have lost nothing by my marriage with Mary. It has been my intention, from the beginning, to carry out, not only my uncle’s primary, but also his secondary intentions. Dr. Lynch has defeated himself. I could have given him all the will mentioned, with a million still remaining. He has chosen to serve the devil, and his master has disappointed him.”
“Honesty is the best policy,” laughed Dick.
“Whether it is or not, we should still be honest.”
“A man worth his million and a half can afford to be honest,” said Mr. Lester.
“And a man who is not worth a penny cannot afford to be dishonest,” added Eugene, whose ethics seldom agreed with those of the eminent merchant.
At twelve o’clock the party in the drawing-room separated. Squire Perkins and his daughter were sent home in the carriage. When the driver had returned, Parkinson went up to Eugene’s room and knocked at the door.
“There is great news at the Port, sir.”
“What is it?”
“Dr. Lynch has shot himself through the head.”
The news was true. The discomfited wretch had sacrificed reputation, character, everything, to win a fortune. If he had won it, he could have conquered an ill name--it was the way of the world. He had lost it; and he had nothing to do but to die. He could not face the storm which might greet him the next day; and all unshrived, he went into the presence of the Almighty Judge.
Buckstone and his wife remained at Pine Hill that night. In the morning they departed for New York. A few days after their arrival, a banker in that city sent for Mrs. Buckstone, and informed her that she was entitled to draw twelve hundred dollars a year at his office, being the income of twenty thousand dollars deposited with him for her exclusive use. Eugene felt that his faithful missionary was deserving of some tribute of regard. But Buckstone had evidently sown his wild oats, and Ellen frequently wrote to Mary, speaking in the warmest terms of his fidelity and devotion to her.
Eugene still continues to dispense his charities, on a large scale, but as silently as the dews of heaven water the flowers when all men sleep. Poppleton and paradise are every year becoming more similar under his influence, though he never expects to realize his highest ideal of a Christian community.
Ross Kingman has built a new house on The Great Bell, and is a man of influence in Poppleton. He still enjoys the confidence of his employer, and is not the less happy for the knowledge that his hand is not stained with blood.
One night, the gravestone bearing the name of Buckstone disappeared from the cemetery; but another, with the name of Edward Goodwin, was placed at the head of the grave. Dick Birch did this work, so that no questions were asked, no unpleasant remarks made.
Master John Hungerford, Miss Mary Hungerford, and Master Eugene Hungerford Birch are by far the most important personages at Pine Hill. Johnnie has passed safely through the measles, but Eugene H. B., on account of a little vein of obstinacy, probably inherited from his mother, refused to take them, though Mrs. Hungerford, senior, went over to “the other house” every day, in order to take the bull by the horns in good season. But the children are all doing well, and being treated to an abundance of fresh air we doubt not in due time Master John Hungerford will be a _millionnaire_.
“Eugene, I think I am a great deal happier than I deserve to be,” said Mary, one evening after she had put the little ones to bed, and seen them both drop off into the slumber of innocence.
“You are happy because you are good, Mary.”
“Have you never repented taking me?”
“Repented! I have never ceased to rejoice that you are mine.”
“I owe all my happiness in this world to you.”
“No; to the Good Father, who gives it to you because you are so true and good.”
“But to you as His minister. I tremble when I think what I might have been without you, Eugene.”
“My joy has been greater than yours.”
“I was cast out, despised, loathed.”
“But you did not deserve it.”
“=IT WAS THE WAY OF THE WORLD.=”
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Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.
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