CHAPTER XXIV.
HELEN’S GOOD FORTUNE
Mr. Bowers, the manager, sat at his desk in the little office adjoining the stage, running his eye over a manuscript play presented for examination by an ambitious young man in spectacles.
“Bah!” said the manager, tossing aside the play after a very brief examination, “what can the man be thinking of? Two murders in the first act, and a suicide in the first scene of the second! Such an accumulation of horrors will never do. Here, Jeffries.”
The messenger made his appearance, and stood awaiting orders.
“Here,” said Mr. Bowers, tossing the play towards him, “just do this thing up, and when the author calls this afternoon, tell him from me that it is a very brilliant production, and so on, but, like Addison’s Cato, for example, not adapted for dramatic representation. That will sugar the pill.”
“Is it the tall young man, with a thin face?”
“Yes; his name is Ichabod Smith; but he writes under the nom de plume of Lionel Percy.”
“Yes, sir; I have seen his name in the story papers. He has just written one called ‘The Goblin Lover; or, The Haunted Tower.’”
“Any further orders, sir?” inquired Jeffries, deferentially.
“Has Miss Ford come?”
“No, sir; I think not.”
“Notice when she does, and request her to call at the office a moment.”
“Yes, sir.”
“It is no more than fair that I should increase her salary,” soliloquized Mr. Bowers. “She has really proved quite a card, and richly deserves double what I have hitherto paid. Besides,” he mused, for the manager was by no means neglectful of his own interests, “I should not be surprised if another establishment should try to entice her away by a larger offer. I must bind her till the end of the season.”
At this moment Helen was announced by Jeffries.
She entered, not without a little feeling of embarrassment. She had not often been brought into communication with Mr. Bowers, since her engagement, and now the only reason that occurred to her to account for this unexpected summons was, that she might in some way have given dissatisfaction, although the applause which greeted her nightly seemed hardly consistent with this idea.
Her apprehensions were at once dispelled by the unusually gracious manner in which she was received.
“I am glad to see you, Miss Ford,” said Mr. Bowers, affably; motioning her to a seat. “I have sent for you to say that your services are in the highest degree acceptable to me and to the public. The marks of approval which you receive nightly must be very gratifying to you as they are to me.”
Quite overpowered by this extraordinary condescension on the part of the manager, whom she had been accustomed to regard with a feeling of distant awe and respect, Helen answered that she was very glad that he was satisfied with her.
“To prove how highly I value your services,” continued Mr. Bowers, “I have decided to double your weekly salary, provided you will sign an engagement to remain with us till the end of the season.”
Helen, who had feared on being summoned to the manager’s presence, that it was to be told that her services were dispensed with, hardly knew how to express her gratitude for what was so far beyond her expectations.
“It is very generous in you, sir,” she said, “to increase my salary without my asking for it.”
“I always make it a point,” was the reply, “to recompense merit to the extent of my means.”
“And now,” he added, pushing towards her a contract already drawn up, “if you will sign this obligation to sing for me the remainder of the season on these terms, I shall have no further cause to trespass on your time.”
Helen wrote her name hastily, and withdrew from the manager’s presence, it being already time for rehearsal.
“A very pretty little girl, and not at all aware of her own value,” mused Mr. Bowers. “I am lucky to have secured her.”
Eager to communicate her increase of salary to her father and good Martha Grey, who had always shown so warm an interest in her welfare, Helen hastened home immediately after rehearsal.
Flushed with exercise, and with a bright smile playing over her face, she danced into Martha Grey’s little room.
“O Martha!” she ejaculated, sinking into a chair, “I am all out of breath running, I was so anxious to tell you of my good fortune. You are the very first that I wanted to tell it to.”
“What is it, Helen?” inquired Martha, looking up from her never-ceasing work with an expression of interest.
“What do you think it is? Guess now,” said Helen, smiling.
“I never was good at guessing, Helen. I think the shortest way will be to tell me at once.”
“I have had my salary raised to twelve dollars a week; just think of that, Martha: and all without my asking. I shall be able to buy ever so many nice things for papa, now, that I couldn’t afford before; and I mean to make you a present, besides, Martha; you’ve been so very kind to me.”
“Thank you for the kind thought, my dear child. I will take the will for the deed. But you mustn’t think yourself too rich. If you have any money to spare you had better be laying it up against a time of need. Remember the theatre will be closed for a time in the summer, and your salary will stop. You will want to lay up money to carry you through that time.”
“At any rate, Martha, if you won’t let me spend any money for you, I shall insist on coming in now and then and helping you with your work, so that you can gain time to walk out with me. I am afraid you work too hard. You are looking pale.”
“It is long since I had much color,” said Martha. “You have enough for us both.”
“Then you must go out and get some. But I mustn’t stop a minute longer; I must go up and tell papa;” and she bounded up stairs with a light heart, little suspecting what had taken place during her absence.
What was her surprise to find her father listlessly looking out of the window into the little court below, and otherwise quite unoccupied.
“What is the matter, papa?” inquired Helen, in apprehension; “and where,” for the first time noticing the absence of the work which usually engaged her father,—“where is your machine?”
“It is gone, my child,” said Mr. Ford, despondently.
“Gone! what do you mean, papa? You have not got discouraged, and sent it away?”
“Discouraged! No, Helen; on the contrary, I never felt nearer success than I did a few hours since. But all is changed now.”
“What has become of it, papa?” questioned Helen, in increasing alarm.
“It has been seized for debt, Helen.”
“For debt?”
“Yes; for the note which I gave Mr. Sharp. I had not the money to pay it, so they carried off my machine for security.”
“Is it possible he has been so cruel and unfeeling?” exclaimed Helen, indignantly.
“Do not blame him, my child. I am convinced that it is far from his intention to trouble or distress us. But he parted with the note a day or two since, as he himself told me, on the express condition that it should not be presented for payment, and this stipulation has been disregarded.”
“And how large was this note, papa?”
“For three hundred dollars.”
“Three hundred! I thought it was only two hundred that were lent you.”
“That was my own impression,” said Mr. Ford, with an air of perplexity. “But you know,” he continued, with a melancholy smile, “that I have no head for business. I have been so occupied in other ways. It is quite possible that I have made a mistake.”
“I am afraid,” said Helen, gravely, “that Mr. Sharp is not so much your friend as you imagine.”
“Not my friend, Helen? He offered to lend me this money voluntarily, without any expectation of immediate return. I am certain that when he hears of this affair, he will hasten to make it right.”
“Perhaps I do him wrong,” said Helen, thoughtfully, “and indeed I do not know what good it would do him to annoy us. But, papa, there is one thing I haven’t told you,—a piece of great good news. I have had my salary doubled at the theatre. I shall earn twelve dollars a week. Think of that, papa.”
“But are you not working too hard, Helen?”
“I, working hard! It is only a pleasure for me to sing. I am very lucky in being paid for what I would rather do than not. It is different with poor Martha. She doesn’t earn more than four dollars a week, and has to sit at her sewing from morning till night. I wish I could do something to help her. She looks so tired and pale all the time.”
“God has favored you, my child, in bestowing upon you so choice a gift. I hope you do not fail to thank him for this goodness.”
“Never, papa. I thank him every night.”
“How much money have you left, papa?” she inquired, after a pause.
“I don’t know exactly how much. I had better give it to you to help pay our daily expenses.”
“There are one hundred and twenty dollars,” said Helen, counting it. “Then we shall need one hundred and eighty to make up the balance of the sum mentioned in the note.”
“Surely, I cannot have expended that sum,” said Mr. Ford, with a perplexed look. “If I could see Mr. Sharp?”
“I will go and see him, papa.”
“Perhaps it will be best.”
In five minutes Helen was on her way to the lawyer’s office.
CHAPTER XXV.
MR. SHARP CHANGES HIS BASE
When Lewis Rand made choice of Richard Sharp, a briefless barrister, as his agent, in preference to a lawyer of greater reputation, he was influenced by what he considered satisfactory reasons. In the first place, Mr. Sharp’s easy morality and lack of principle were no unimportant qualifications for the business in which he was to be employed; that he had good qualities of a particular kind Lewis knew; and he judged that his lack of other clients would insure his devotion to his interests.
Thus far, Mr. Sharp’s management of the business intrusted to him had quite equalled Lewis Rand’s expectations. He acknowledged that it could not have been better done. Feeling that the lawyer’s fidelity was insured by his own interest, he was far from anticipating any risk to his plans from this quarter.
Lewis Rand reasoned as a man of the world, showing, it must be admitted, no inconsiderable insight into human character and motives. But there was one thing which he neglected to take into the account. The lawyer might, in the course of his investigations, discover counter interests, which he might think it better worth his while to further than his client’s.
This was actually the case.
Lewis Rand had so far taken Mr. Sharp into his confidence, that the lawyer found little difficulty in surmising how affairs stood. Of the forged will he was ignorant. It appeared that the only thing which stood in the way of a reconciliation between Robert Ford and his father, was the careful manner in which they had hitherto been kept apart by Lewis. As the latter had confessed, his uncle had been so far desirous of a meeting and reconciliation, that he had ordered an advertisement to be inserted in the leading papers, notwithstanding the probability that his son was no longer living.
“Now,” thought Mr. Sharp, “what would be the probable consequence, if some person—I, myself, for example—should bring together the long-separated father and son. Naturally that person would have the satisfaction of knowing that he had made two fellow-beings happy,”—here Mr. Sharp looked fairly radiant with benevolence,—“and also,”—here came in a consideration,—“and also he would stand a chance of being very handsomely rewarded.”
Mr. Sharp lit a fresh cigar, after which he resumed the current of his reflections.
“Suppose I should be that person. I should, of course, lose my present client; but, on the other hand, I might get another, who would prove ten times as profitable to me. In fact, he could not very well help rewarding me handsomely, knowing that I had been the means of gaining him a fortune. Besides, this Ford is a mere infant in matters of business. Of course he would need somebody to manage his money concerns for him, or he would be fleeced on every hand. It would only be an act of common humanity to come to his assistance. Egad!” exclaimed the lawyer, warming with the thoughts of what might be done should the scheme succeed; “the thing’s worth trying, and I’ll be–, I mean I’ll try it.”
Having arrived at this praiseworthy decision, Mr. Sharp tossed the remains of his cigar into the grate, and carefully adjusting his invariable white hat, sallied into the street on a tour of observation.
The object of his quest was the residence of his client. A look into the directory guided him to the residence on Fifth Avenue, which has been already described. He observed that the shutters were closed, as befitted a dwelling in which there was sickness. From the sidewalk he could read the name upon the door-plate. There could be no mistake, for this name was Rand.
“So far so good,” he thought, and having now obtained all the information he at present needed, he wended his way back to the office, and began to meditate what step next to take, when he caught the sound of a timid knock at his office door.
“Come in!” said Mr. Sharp, wondering if by some very extraordinary freak of fortune it might be a second client.
The door was opened, and Helen stole timidly in.
She looked very sad and despondent. The length of time which must elapse before she could at best release her father’s treasured machine, and furnish him the wonted occupation which had so long engrossed his time and thoughts, and upon which he founded such high hopes of fame and fortune, naturally weighed upon her mind. She had come to acquaint Mr. Sharp with what had happened, rather because such was her father’s desire than because she entertained any great hopes of his assistance.
“Miss Ford,” exclaimed Mr. Sharp, jumping from his seat and, with a wave of the hand, politely tendering it to Helen, “This is a most unexpected pleasure. I am delighted to see you, my dear young lady; pray, sit down, if you will do such an honor to my humble apartment.”
“I couldn’t stop, sir, thank you,” said Helen. “I came to let you know, sir, at my father’s desire, that his,—I mean the work he was engaged upon,—has been seized for debt.”
“Bless my soul!” ejaculated Mr. Sharp, in the greatest apparent amazement; “how did it happen?”
“What!” exclaimed the lawyer in a tone of virtuous indignation, “is it possible that Blunt has had the unparalleled effrontery to disturb my esteemed friend, your father, against my express stipulation? That man little knows that he has aimed a blow at science and the world’s progress, and endangered the successful prosecution of the greatest discovery of modern times. And all for the sake of a little paltry money!” ejaculated Mr. Sharp, with disdain. “And shall this be permitted? No, it shall not be! It must not be!”
Here Mr. Sharp brought down his fist energetically upon the table.
“My dear young lady, rest assured that your father shall be righted, even though—yes, even though it strip me of my entire property.”
It may be remarked that the lawyer’s entire property, which he was ready to sacrifice so heroically in the service of his friend, made but a small show on the tax-gatherer’s book.
Nevertheless Helen, who gave him credit for perfect sincerity, began to think she had judged very harshly of Mr. Sharp, and the delightful hope that through his means would once more be restored to her father the employment so necessary to his happiness, filled her with the liveliest emotions of gratitude.
“O sir,” said she, earnestly, “we will both pray for and bless you.”
“My dear Miss Ford,” said the lawyer, in his emotion brushing away an imaginary tear, “say no more. Although you will, I know, acquit me of having had anything to do directly in bringing about your father’s misfortune, it was, I am painfully conscious, the result of my entrusting the note to that villain Blunt, who has acted in a manner unworthy of a gentleman,—in a manner which will compel me to break off all business relations with him in future; I feel that it is my duty to do what I can to repair the results of my indiscretion.”
Mr. Sharp rose rapidly in Helen’s estimation. The respect with which he spoke of her father, and the warmth with which he espoused his interests, impressed the unsuspecting child most favorably. She began to wonder how she could ever have thought of him otherwise than as a friend. She even felt a degree of compunction and self-reproach for having harbored suspicions of so excellent a man.
“You can return home quite at ease, my dear Miss Ford,” resumed Mr. Sharp. “Within two hours at most I will take care that your father’s property shall be restored to him.”
“Will you, sir?” said Helen, her eyes lighting up with gratitude. “Oh, I shall feel so relieved. We shall be very much indebted to you.”
“Do not thank me, my dear Miss Ford. I feel that I am, in some respects, unsuited to my profession. A lawyer should be made of sterner stuff. I rejoice that your father should have sent to me immediately. It is a proof of his confidence, which I value. He will always find in me a true friend, and I trust he will not fail to call upon me for assistance whenever any trouble shall befall him. Your father, my dear Miss Ford, is a man of genius; but, as you perhaps have observed, is not so well versed in the ways of the world as those who possess not a tithe of his inventive talent and intellectual ability.”
Helen was quite ready to acknowledge a deficiency which no one knew better than herself.
“Mind, my dear young lady,” continued Mr. Sharp, “I do not speak of this as in any way derogatory to your father or at all detracting from his scientific eminence. I would not have him other than he is. No one can be great in all things, as Cicero so eloquently observes. What if your father is a little deficient in worldly sagacity? Was not this the case with all who have distinguished themselves in the higher departments of science and literature? Why, the great Sir Isaac Newton himself was noted for his absence of mind, and some very curious stories are told of this trait. Milton, too, knew so little how to drive a bargain, that he actually sold his great poem for five pounds. So I consider your father’s want of practical talent one of the most convincing proofs of his superior mental endowments.”
Whatever may be thought of Mr. Sharp’s reasoning, it was enough for Helen that he spoke in praise of her father, whom she revered. No praise of herself could so effectually have won her entire confidence. With light heart she left the lawyer’s office, and hastened home to impart to her father the glad tidings.
“I have crossed the Rubicon,” said Mr. Sharp, thoughtfully. “I must now arrange the details of my coup d’etat.”
CHAPTER XXVI.
A SHORT CHAPTER
Mr. Sharp had now taken the first step towards betraying his client, and was determined not to turn back. Having so far committed himself, he felt that policy dictated expedition. Should Mr. Rand suddenly die before he could bring about an interview between him and Mr. Ford, all would be lost. That interview must take place with the least possible delay.
Mr. Sharp, accordingly, set out at once for Mr. Ford’s dwelling.
A moderate walk brought him to the modest lodging of the inventor.
He paused a moment to compose his face to the proper expression of sympathetic regret, and then entering, grasped the hand of Mr. Ford.
“I sympathize with you sincerely in your misfortune,” he remarked, in a feeling tone, “and it is to me a poignant reflection that it has occurred partly through my means; but I trust your kindness will absolve me from any suspicion of complicity.”
“I do, and have,” said Mr. Ford, frankly, extending his hand. “From the first, I could not even imagine, Mr. Sharp, that you had anything to do with it.”
“You only do me justice,” said Mr. Sharp, wringing the offered hand with affectionate energy; “you only do me justice, sir, and yet I have been culpable; I have been guilty of an indiscretion; I should not have intrusted a note which affected your interests, to so unscrupulous a man as Blunt. Mild as is my temperament,” he continued, with a sudden burst of ferocity, “I do not hesitate to pronounce that man an unmitigated villain.”
He paused a moment to recover himself, and resumed in a different tone, with a look of respectful admiration directed towards Helen.
“As soon as I heard the details of this affair from the lips of your charming daughter, whose filial devotion is, I may observe, the most beautiful trait of her character, I hastened here to assure you of my sympathy and assistance. I think I may promise, that your invaluable machinery will be restored to you before night. I can only express my extreme regret that you have been compelled to suspend your labors, even for the space of a few hours.”
“Thank you for your kindness,” said Mr. Ford, gratefully. “I shall always feel that I am deeply indebted to you for your disinterested friendship.”
“Sir,” said Mr. Sharp, visibly affected, “I would, if it were possible, express how much I am gratified by your words; but there are feelings which must be hidden in the heart, and to which no language can do justice. Let me say, briefly, that such are my feelings on the present occasion. You have been pleased to refer to the little service which it has been in my power to render you. But, sir, you have no cause for gratitude. It is the interest I feel in the advancement of science, to which you have consecrated your life energies. It is my earnest desire to help forward, in my way, the important discovery which is to hand down your name to future generations.”
“If you will excuse me,” said Helen, putting on her bonnet, “I am going out to get something for dinner; and if,” she added, hesitatingly, “Mr. Sharp would do us the favor to sit down with us, papa, I am sure we should be very glad to have him.”
“That is well thought of, Helen,” said her father, approvingly. “I shall be very glad to have Mr. Sharp do so, if he can find sufficient inducement.”
“Sufficient inducement!” echoed the lawyer, with the air of a man who had received an invitation to a royal banquet; “I shall be most proud, most happy, to accept your invitation, and that of your charming daughter. Unworthy as I feel myself of this distinction, I will yet accept it.”
“Unworthy! you, who have to-day shown yourself so truly my friend? It is but a faint expression of our gratitude.”
“You are very kind to say so,” said Mr. Sharp, with an effusion of feeling. “Yet I cannot help feeling that you judge me too favorably. Indeed, were it not that I have a revelation of some importance to make to you, I should scarcely venture to accept your invitation.”
“Be seated, Mr. Sharp,” said Mr. Ford, somewhat surprised at the lawyer’s words; “I shall, of course, feel interested in anything you may have to impart. Helen, my dear, you will not be gone long?”
“No, papa.”
She closed the door, and descended the stairs, with her market-basket on her arm.