The Allen House Part 17

The probe had changed hands.

"It is difficult," I answered, "for us to say what we would do if we were to change places with another. In my experience, it is easy to see what is right for our neighbor, but very difficult to see the right way for ourselves, when under the allurement of some personal advantage."

"Would it be right in me to give up the search?"

"I think not."

My answer was without hesitation.

"And I will not," she said, firmly. "If my brother has devised his property, I have only to know the terms of his will. If it is against me, well. I shall not oppose its operation."

"It sometimes happens," I suggested, "that a testator is manifestly out of his right mind as to the direction given to his property, and bequeaths it in a manner so evidently unwise and improper, that both justice and humanity are served in the act of setting aside the will.

And it might prove so in this case."

"I know not how that may be," Mrs. Montgomery answered, soberly, yet firmly. "But this I do know"--she spoke resolutely--"G.o.d helping me, I will not stain my hands with gold that, in any legal right, belongs to another. What is clearly mine, I will take and use as it is my right and duty. But I must be certain that it is mine. If there is no will, I am clear as to who is the owner of this estate; if there is a will, and I and mine are not included in its provisions, I will step aside. First, however, the obligation to search for a will is imperative; and I shall continue it until clearly satisfied that no such doc.u.ment exists."

What a womanly dignity there was in Mrs. Montgomery as she said this, drawing her tall form up to its full height in speaking--not proudly, but with conscious integrity!

"What is right is always best." I made the remark as well approvingly as in expression of an immutable truth.

"Always, always," she replied, with earnestness. "There is no blinder folly than that of grasping a present worldly good, at the expense of violated justice. Whoever does so, comes out that far wrong in the end.

There is only one way that leads to peace of mind: the way of honor and right. All other ways, no matter into what rich harvest fields they may lead in the beginning, terminate in wretchedness. There never has been, and never will be, any exception to this rule. We see its operation daily, turn our eyes whatsoever way we choose. And G.o.d forbid that I should deliberately enter the way that leads to ultimate unhappiness!

Self-denial in the present is better than gnawing regret in the future.

The good things of this world prove to be curses instead of blessings, unless the mind be rightly adjusted for their enjoyment. And such a right adjustment is impossible where the very fact of their possession involves a moral wrong. I see this so clearly, Doctor, that I shudder inwardly at the bare imagination of committing such a wrong."

"It is by trial that G.o.d proves us," said I, "and may He bring you out of this one, should the trial come, as gold from the refiner's furnace!"

"Amen!" was her solemnly uttered response; "if it should come, may I be found strong enough to do the right!"

For over a week this search for a will was continued, until it was clear to all concerned that no such doc.u.ment was in existence. Then preparation was made for the visit to England, in search of evidence bearing upon the ident.i.ty of Mrs. Montgomery as the sister of Captain Allen. Two or three months elapsed, however, before Mr. Wallingford could so arrange his business as to be absent for the length of time it might take to complete his mission. He sailed for England in June, between three and four months after the marriage of Delia Floyd. He called to see me on the day before leaving, and I had a brief but pleasant talk with him. He was in good health and good spirits, and antic.i.p.ated a successful visit.

"I shall gain," he remarked, "in two ways by this trip. Professionally and intellectually. I have had many a dream of that land of our forefathers--England--now to be realized. I shall see London, walk its streets, and linger amid its historic places. Don't smile at this almost boyish enthusiasm, Doctor. London has always been the Mecca of my desires."

I had never seen him so animated. A higher life seemed flowing in his veins. His countenance had a brighter aspect than usual, and his head an erecter carriage. There was a depth of meaning in his eyes never observed before--a look as if some new born hope were lending its inspiration to his soul. Altogether manlier was his aspect and bearing than I had ever seen it.

"G.o.d speed your mission," said I, as I shook hands with him in parting.

"If it depends on human agency, directed with earnestness, patience, and will, my mission will have a prosperous result," he replied. "It is to be my first entirely self-reliant experience, and I think the discipline of mind it will involve must strengthen me for higher professional work than any in which I have yet been engaged. You are aware, Doctor, that my heart is in my profession."

"So I have seen from the beginning."

"I will not deny," he added, "that I have ambition. That I wish to be distinguished at the bar."

"An honorable ambition," said I.

"Nor that, sometimes--in moments of weakness, perhaps--my dreams have gone higher. But I am a very young man, and youth is ardent and imaginative," he added.

"And you have this great advantage," I replied, "that, with every year added to your life, you may, if you will, grow wiser and stronger. You stand, as all young minds, at the bottom of a ladder. The height to which you climb will depend upon your strength and endurance."

"If we both live long enough, Doctor, you may see me on the topmost rundle, for I shall climb with unwearying effort."

He spoke with a fine enthusiasm, that lent a manly beauty to his face.

"Climb on," I answered, "and you will rise high above the great ma.s.s, who are aimless and indolent. But you will have compet.i.tors, few, but vigorous and tireless. In the contest for position that you must wage with these, all your powers will be taxed; and if you reach the topmost rundle to which you aspire, success will be, indeed, a proud achievement."

"I have the will, the ambition, the courage, and the endurance, Doctor,"

was his reply. "So, if I fail, the fault will lie here," and he touched, significantly, his forehead.

"For lack of brains?" said I, smiling.

"Yes. The defect will lie there," he answered, smiling in return.

"Brains are remarkable for latent capacity. If stimulated, they develop new powers, and this almost without limit. All they want is to be well supplied with the right kind of food, and well worked at the same time."

"I believe that, Doctor, and find vast encouragement in the thought,"

and Wallingford laughed pleasantly.

Our parting words were growing voluminous. So we shook hands again, repeated our mutual good wishes, and separated. In the afternoon he started for Boston, from whence he sailed, on the next day, for England.

This was towards the latter end of June. He was to write to Mrs.

Montgomery immediately on his arrival out, and again as soon as he had obtained an interview with the Willoughby family. Early in August, she received his first letter, which was brief, simply announcing his arrival at Liverpool.

About three weeks after the coming of this letter, I received a note from Mrs. Montgomery asking me to call. On meeting her, I noticed something in her manner that struck me as unusual. She did not smile, as was her wont, when we met, her countenance retaining its usual serious expression. I thought she looked paler, and just a little troubled.

"Thank you for calling so promptly, Doctor," she said. "I am afraid you will think me troublesome. But you have always shown a kindly interest in me, though a stranger; and have proved, in all cases, a sound adviser."

I bowed, and she continued:

"I have a second letter from Mr. Wallingford. He has, he writes, been well received by my relatives, who had placed in his hands, for examination, a large quant.i.ty of papers that belonged to Colonel Willoughby."

"If they contain any evidence in the right direction, he will be sure to find it," said I.

"No doubt of that. But"--I thought her voice faltered a little--"the question is solved, and he may return."

"Solved! How?" I asked quickly.

"I have found the will."

"What?"

"I have found the will," she repeated, in a steady tone, "and that solves the question."

"Is it in your favor?" I asked, and then held my breath for a reply. It came in a firmly uttered--

"No."

We looked steadily into each other's face for several moments.

"In whose favor?"