John Marsh's Millions Part 16

"Yes, my dear girl," said her uncle; "it would be rather inconvenient to have more than one legal adviser in the family. In fact, it will be impossible--quite impossible."

Paula shook her head.

"Mr. Ricaby is my friend--the only friend I have in the world," she said.

"That's rather a pity," answered Jimmy, with a feeble attempt at irony.

He turned to Mr. Cooley and the lawyer shook his head. Jimmy went on:

"I am very sorry, Paula, but that doesn't alter the position. It's the one point I'm afraid I must insist on."

Paula turned to her attorney.

"Mr. Ricaby, will you kindly tell these gentlemen that our interview is at an end?"

Jimmy started forward.

"Paula! My dear niece----"

"I have nothing further to say," answered Paula coldly.

"Paula--won't you listen?"

"Please ask them to go," she repeated.

"Won't you reconsider?" cried her uncle. "I express my sincere regret for any annoyance I may have caused you."

She smiled bitterly. All the hate that she had nourished in her heart against this man was now heated to boiling point. Vehemently she burst out:

"I expect to suffer through coming in contact with a mean, mercenary nature like yours," she cried, "that's the penalty I pay for being 'your dear niece.' What I cannot understand and what I cannot forgive is your cruelty in blackening my dead father's memory--to stamp your own brother a lunatic and drunkard! Why, it's--it's horrible! Even the love of money in a degenerate age doesn't explain that. And my dead mother! Her name had to be dishonored, that I might be stamped as illegitimate. No accusation too scandalous, too shameful, or too degrading, could be made--because I had come between you and this miserable money!" Shaking her clenched fist in his face, she cried: "But you'll never get it, Uncle James, you'll never get it! You hear that, sir? You'll never get it--and, now--please go."

Mr. Cooley looked at her in silence for a moment, whispered a few words in Jimmy's ear, and then both men left the room.

CHAPTER X.

Paula now breathed freely for the first time in weeks. The enemy was utterly routed. Temporarily at least she might reasonably expect to be spared further annoyance. Her uncle, it was true, had control of her fortune, and until she came of age her hands were completely tied. But in another year she would be her own mistress. Then they would be powerless to molest her. Meantime, she devoutly hoped that they would leave her in peace to live her own life as she saw fit.

The excitement and turmoil incidental to the trial having quieted down, affairs at the boarding house soon resumed their normal aspect. Paula became more active daily in her Settlement duties, and was already well known as one of the most prominent and energetic workers in that humane organization. Conspicuous in the public eye as the heiress to a large fortune, the great interest she took in the condition of the poor attracted much attention in the newspapers. They printed her portrait with eulogistic comments, sent reporters to interview her, and printed statements, entirely unauthorized, to the effect that when she came into her inheritance she would devote her millions to the cause of charity.

All day long she was busy downtown on her mission of mercy and even at night was frequently called away either to address some socialist gathering or attend a committee meeting.

Mr. Ricaby, ever attentive and devoted, always escorted her on these occasions, not realizing himself, perhaps, that he took keener pleasure in these nocturnal excursions than a legitimate interest in the case would warrant. Paula was grateful for his company, but that was all. For a pretty girl, full of life and sentiment, she was singularly heart whole. Of the deeper pa.s.sions which disturb other normal healthy girls of her age she seemed entirely free. Men had declared her cold. The opposite s.e.x appeared to have no attraction to her. But this was a mistaken impression. She was not cold. It was simply that the right man had not yet appeared. Certainly, Leon Ricaby with his grave manner and shattered illusions was not her ideal. She found him devoted, but dull.

She found no pleasure in his society. Harry Parkes was shallow and impossible. The most interesting man she knew was Tod Chase. He was original and he interested her. His breezy manner and cheerful way of looking at things was just what her own life lacked. His mere presence, his droll utterance, and broad grin dispelled the blues and made her feel happier. She believed, too, that he was a friend. He had not called since her refusal to go and live with her uncle, but she had no reason to believe that he disapproved of her action. Perhaps he was afraid to intrude on her. She had offered to take him down to the slums to show him just how the poor people lived. Any day he might come to claim the promise.

But with all her courage Paula was far from happy. Often she wished that her father had not left her a cent, and that she was back in Paris, copying the old masters in the Louvre. All she had gone through could not have failed to affect her nervous system. She was singularly depressed. Try as she would, she was unable to shake off the idea, which soon became an obsession, that something serious was about to happen, that some catastrophe, compared with which all that had until now occurred were trifles, was hanging over her head. Never so much as now had she realized her utter loneliness and defencelessness. Mr. Ricaby and the Parkes were very kind and sympathetic, but at best they were only acquaintances. She had no real claim upon them. There was apparently nothing to fret about. Her uncle and Bascom Cooley gave no sign of life, yet still she worried. She tried to centre all her attention on her work, but always the silent question arose in her mind: "What is being plotted in the dark?" The uncertainty of suspense unnerved her so much that she was soon rendered unfit for work of any kind.

One evening about two weeks after the ignominious retreat of Messrs.

Marsh and Cooley, she was sitting alone with Mr. Ricaby in Mrs. Parkes'

parlor. She had been busy at the Settlement all day and returned home so tired that she was glad when, after dinner, the call of her attorney gave her an excuse for not going to a lecture which she had promised to attend.

"What do you think?" she asked anxiously. "Will they leave me alone now?"

The lawyer shook his head ominously:

"You don't know Bascom Cooley. He never admits defeat. Baffled in his attempt to keep you under close control in the Marsh house, he will scheme to gain his ends in some other way. While you are free to come and go as you please you are a hindrance to their plans. Besides, all this newspaper talk about your intention to spend millions on your Settlement work must have made them furious. They will seek other means to coerce you into pa.s.sive obedience. They are both scoundrels, and there is not the slightest doubt in my mind that they have entered into a conspiracy to make unlawful use of your money. But until they show their hands we can do nothing."

The young girl sighed. Would all this trouble, the plotting and counterplotting, never end? How weary she was of it all! Mr. Ricaby heard the sigh and guessed the reason.

"Don't be discouraged," he said. "It's only the things which are worth having that are worth fighting for. Think of all the good you can do with your money when you get it."

Paula's dark eyes flashed.

"You are right," she murmured. "It is ungrateful of me to fret like this. You are so kind." She hesitated a moment, as if there were something on her mind to which she feared to give utterance. Then timidly she said: "Everything will come out all right, no doubt, but I can't shake off an uncomfortable feeling that there's still more trouble coming. I don't like that man Bascom Cooley. He talks and acts as if he had the power to do anything, even to compelling me by force to do what I don't wish to do." With a little shudder she added: "I had a horrible dream last night."

Mr. Ricaby laughed.

"Come--come, Paula! Don't let this thing take hold of you like that.

What was the dream?"

The young girl's large eyes, turned toward him, were dilated with panicky terror. Her pallid face was still paler and the muscles about her sensitive mouth twitched spasmodically. In a low, frightened voice, she went on:

"I dreamed that my uncle came to see me. He said insolently that I must go and live with him. I replied that I would not, and I ordered him from the house. Instead of going, he merely laughed, and, opening the door, beckoned to a man who stood waiting outside. The man entered. He was a gaunt, sinister-looking person, with a cruel mouth and big, hollow, staring eyes that seemed to pierce me through. A sardonic smile was on his face. My uncle pointed at me. 'There she is!' he said. 'Take her away. She's mad.' I gave a scream, and woke up."

Mr. Ricaby laughed outright.

"You must have been eating something which disagreed with you," he said.

"Surely you don't allow yourself to be frightened by anything so silly as that?"

Paula nodded.

"It was all so vivid that it seemed true. Suppose----"

She hesitated.

"Suppose what?" he demanded.

"Suppose they did something like that. Suppose they had me declared insane and placed in an asylum? One has read of such things. I think they are capable of anything."

The lawyer looked amused. Laughingly he asked:

"In what age do you think you are living, Paula--in the twentieth century or in the middle ages? Put all such nonsense out of your head.

They couldn't do what you suggest unless a medical commission signed papers of commitment, and how could they get them? You'd have no difficulty in proving that you are as sane as they are."

Paula's face brightened. This dream had been haunting her, and she felt a sense of relief that she had been able to confide it to some one.

"I suppose it is foolish," she faltered. "But you know how it is when one gets a fixed idea. It's hard to shake it off."