CHAPTER XXXVI.

SOLVING THE PROBLEM.

It was a lovely afternoon in midsummer. Scott Wilmer entered the cemetery and wended his way slowly toward his father's grave. As he neared the spot, with noiseless steps, he noticed a female leaning against the tall white monument that marked his father's resting place. As she raised her head he saw that there were tears on the heavy lashes, and a sorrowful look on the lovely face.

"My kind friend," she said, aloud, "what a sad time it was when you left your loved family!"

Scott neared the place where she stood, and bowing, said:

"Please pardon me, madam, I did not mean to intrude upon your grief. I came to visit my father's grave."

"I am the one to ask pardon," the lady replied, "and if you will excuse me I will not intrude further."

"Do not go," said Scott. "If my father was a friend of yours you have a right to mourn for him."

"I have heard so much of his goodness," she said, "that I could not help paying the tribute of a few tears to the memory of so noble a man. I have heard that aside from his extreme affection for his family, he was a devout Christian."

"Yes, he died the death of the righteous." Scott stooped and plucked a tiny flower from his wife's grave.

"If this one had lived as he did I should be satisfied, but God is the judge of both, and he doeth all things wisely, letting the rain fall upon the just and the unjust."

"It seems hard for one young and beautiful as your wife was, to die and leave those who loved her."

"You have seen her then?"

"Yes, I visited her several times during her illness. She was fond of reading, I observed, so I gave her a book of poems."

"Yes, my mother told me that she was fascinated with one of 'Auralia's' late works. I did not blame her, for if I ever loved in fancy, it is the authoress Auralia. Her style of writing is enough to captivate both the thoughtful and the careless. There is a touching pathos in them that is seldom excelled, and poor Irene forgot her sufferings in listening to their sweetness, so my mother told me."

"I am very glad," said the lady, "as I presented her with that one for friendship's sake."

"Excuse my boldness, but I would like to ask your name."

"Elsworth," she said.

"What, the authoress?"

"The same."

"And are you the lady who visited my wife, because you thought her friendless?"

"No, not because I thought her friendless, for I knew she was surrounded by those who would do all in their power to smooth her way to the grave, but at her request I held an interview with her."

"Then, of course, you never knew of our disgrace."

"I knew all."

"You were very kind to overlook our misfortunes."

"Oh, no, do not call me kind; I acted only from a sense of duty, and because I pitied her."

"You knew how deeply she had sinned?"

"Yes."

"God knows I tried to save her, and if I did not my duty it was for lack of judgment, not charity."

Scott knit his brow, and passed his hand in an absent sort of a way through his auburn locks.

"That voice," he said, "where have I heard it?"

"I cannot tell you."

"I must have seen you; I am sure I have heard that voice. Oh, I remember, you saved the life of an old woman, who would have been trampled to death by a span of fractious horses. Do you not remember it?"

"Yes, but how do you know that I was the one?"

"I was told that it was Miss Elsworth, the authoress."

"I remember; you are the gentleman who came to my rescue. I never forget a face I have once seen."

"You are fortunate, as a retentive memory is often very useful."

"I have found it so in many cases, for my acquaintance has been so brief with very many whom I have met that I might have forgotten my old friends had not their faces been stamped upon my memory."

"Your home is not in the city, I believe."

"My home is anywhere. For a quiet place, in which to do my work I made a home of an old, almost ruined house at Roxbury, but there has been such a sad scene enacted there that I am glad to leave the place."

"A death?"

"Yes, two at the same hour."

"Ah."

"Yes," she said, raising her beautiful eyes to Scott's face, "a victim of too much love. Bessie Graves, a beautiful, innocent, confiding girl, the pet of the house, made a hopeless maniac, and a suicide, by the false pretense of Max Brunswick's love."

Scott started, and his compressed lips betrayed the storm within.

"That villain again," he said, "where is he now?"

"Be patient, and I will tell you. I am sorry to bring him again to your mind, but it is right that you should know the end. He is dead."

"Dead!"

"Yes; died as he lived; murdered by the hand of the girl he had betrayed. They are lying side by side near the home of her childhood."

Scott looked thoughtfully down at the grave of his wife. There was a hungry look in his eyes, as he raised them, again to Miss Elsworth's face.

"Poor girl," he said.

"Mr. Wilmer, I am sorry, very sorry, that your life has been so clouded," said Miss Elsworth, "but if you can bury the past it will be so much better for you. You have your mother and a lovely sister, and wealth to satisfy every desire."

"Yes, and a cloud above me that can never be lifted until the bright morning shall come, that will shed light on every sorrowing heart. You do not know, you never can know how some souls are hungering."

"Ah," she said, "I have not even the love of a mother and sister to cheer me, as I traverse life's path. There is a skeleton in the closet of every home, and mine will step out and mock me with its hideous form even though I doubly bar the door."

"A skeleton in your home, Miss Elsworth; have you no friends or relatives?"

"I am all alone. I never knew a mother's love or a sister's."

"Then why mourn the loss of that which you never possessed?"

"Ah, Mr. Wilmer, it is the skeleton that still lives that is throwing its shadow across my path. Had I a mother's companionship the shadow might seem less."

"Yes, but a woman possessing your talents and the name you have won should be happy."

She smiled sadly.

"I try to be happy and I make myself believe that I am. I do not allow the skeleton to crowd out every other thought and duty; only at times it stands before me ere I am aware of its presence, and then my heart cries out because I know that it will follow me to the end of life."

Scott wondered, but he did not ask what her sorrow could be. He looked at the lovely face before him; he noticed the beautiful tint of the rich complexion; the crimson lips and the dreamy black eyes shaded by their curling lashes, and he was lost in admiration.

"Miss Elsworth," he said, "I wish you could know my mother and sister."

"I have promised Mr. Horton that I would try to know his wife, but I have had so much work to attend to of late that I have neither made nor received calls; indeed I seldom find time for that pleasure at all."

"Some ladies find time for little else," said Scott, smiling.

"Yes, some live for pleasure; my life is made up of work."

"How much better it would be if the idlers in the world were compelled to bear a part of the labor."

"It is no doubt right as it is, but yet the world makes one doubt their best friends, and when one is deceived, and cruelly wronged, it is so hard to know who is true, so we are apt to overlook the good qualities of many and class them all as selfish. How the time passes," she said, glancing at her watch. "I have already remained too long. Good bye," giving him her hand. "Please tender my regards to your mother and sister."

He held her hand a moment. There was a magnetism in the touch that almost frightened him. He would not allow the power of a woman's fascination to overcome him.

"Good bye, Miss Elsworth," he said.

She had taken but a step when he again spoke her name. There was a charm about her that he could not resist, and he asked:

"Will you not allow me the pleasure of calling on you?"

"Yes, when I am more at leisure."

"Will you send me word when I may come?"

"Yes."

"Thank you," he said, and the next moment she was gone.

"She is a grand woman," Scott said, as he watched her until she was hid from his view. "She is lovely, noble, and how few there are like her. But I must not even admire her. I wonder if they are all alike--vain of their beauty."

Scott returned to his office, trying, and quite unable to banish the image of Blanche Elsworth from his mind. He began opening the mail which lay on his desk.

"Ah, here is a letter from Paul, God bless him. I hope he will be here soon," and a smile passed over his face as he read: "I will see you ere long. The facts that we are both enabled to furnish in regard to that affair will no doubt be sufficient evidence."

"Yes," Scott said, "I think it will be quite enough. But one element is doubtful, and I think we shall master that, too. What a brave boy Paul is; I shall make him an offer when he returns--that is, to take a share of my business--yes, and my wealth, to study law--in fact, to do anything to become one of the family. There is one heart that is true as steel, and he is and has been more than a brother to me."

Mr. Le Moyne entered.

"Well," he said, "is there any news?"

"Everything has worked to my entire satisfaction, and the property is found."

"But where is the rightful heir?"

"That is all that remains to be discovered and I have a clue. Please be ready to come to my house when I send you word, as I want you to hear a statement that will no doubt soon be made."

"Have you heard from the boy Paul?"

"Yes, I have just received a letter containing some very valuable information. He will be here soon; he does not state just when, but I can rely on his judgment, knowing that he will be sure to come at the right time."

"He must be very shrewd to be able to work out some of the secrets that he has."

"He has the wisdom of a judge, and as for honesty, I would no sooner doubt him than I would myself. I would trust him with my life."

While Scott and Mr. Le Moyne are holding an important conversation let us enter for a time the home of old Meg and Crisp. They are seated at their rude table, eating their meal of soup, crackers and brown bread. Old Meg looks still more repulsive than before her sickness. Her face is thin and overspread with a dark, sallow color that is almost frightful in appearance. She looks up at Crisp with a grin of satisfaction. Her gray locks are falling from under her cap and straying in slovenly fashion over her cheeks and forehead.

"I've got the promise of a good sum from that rich lawyer, and as soon as we get it, we'll clear out and go to Californy, and hunt up John and when we find him I'll let him know that Meg ain't to be fooled with in this fashion."

She uttered these words bringing her hand down on the table with a force that set the old, cracked dishes rattling.

"I wouldn't mind to beat the whole of 'em," said Crisp, "but there'll be a job on hand to do it."

"Yes, yes, but let me tell you that Meg and her boy Crisp can do it. There's John--after all the promises he made see how he stuck to his word. He's got the money and we can't help it till we find him; then see, my boy, then see."

"I s'pose he lives like a king," said Crisp.

"Well, he will not feel so grand when he sees old Meg walk in his parlor."

"Ha, ha," laughed Crisp, "I'd like to see the color of his face when it is done. Then there's Rene; I wonder what she means by keeping in the shade as she does."

"Why, you don't expect her to come here, do you, now that she's run away with Brunswick," said Meg.

"Why, no; but if she knew what was good for her she would do a little better by us than she does. It would be a fine thing for her, wouldn't it, if we told her husband the whole story," said Crisp.

"That's just what I'm going to do," said Meg, savagely. "I've promised to go when the lawyer sends for me and tell him all I know about his wife. I suppose he would give his eyes to find her--the hypocrite that she is."

"I hain't forgot the bullet in my arm," said Crisp, grinding his teeth together.

"Nor I, and if I get good pay I mean to tell the whole story."

"Good! Let the lawyer know what a devil she is, anyway," said Crisp.

"I wonder if she told the truth about Zula?"

"I s'pose she did, but if she don't do anything for us it don't make any difference whether Zula is dead or not."

"No, but I'll let her know how I pay her for her meanness. What would she have been"--and old Meg rose to her feet, trembling with rage--"tell me what would she have been if it had not been for Meg's cunning? Ah, ha! I'll teach her, and I'll show her that old Meg's revenge ends only at the grave. They promised me gold when I agreed to do all their devilish work for them, and they have failed, but old Meg's oath still lives."

"Well, what do you mean to do?" Crisp asked.

"I mean first to get what I can from that lawyer. He has promised to give me a good sum if I tell him the whole story. He wants to find his wife, I suppose, but I want to tell him just where she sprung from, and when he finds her and she goes back, if she ever does, she'll know that old Meg didn't break her oath. She knows that I swore to get even with John, if he didn't live up to his promise, and, Crisp, I mean to do it if I die. He can't be a fine gentleman, with the money that I got for him, if he don't give me my share. He will find that the old gypsy can put a curse on him that will last a lifetime."

Old Meg lit her pipe and placing one hand under her chin she formed about as disgusting a picture as one could imagine.

"Crisp," she said, while her face took on a still more intense look of hatred, "I could kill that jade, to think that she can be a lady through my managing and me a beggar. I hate her, and I could grind her to powder."

"Hate her," said Crisp, "don't I hate her, the sneak that she is? Hain't I got reason to hate her for setting the trap that she set for me, that night? Who but a devil like her would have got me in such a place? She laid the plot to get me to come there, and then got some one to shoot me like a dog. But I'll have revenge."

"Yes, yes, we'll beat her yet, if we follow her to her grave, you remember that. I'd like to be a mouse and see how she looks when she comes back to that rich man of hers, and he tells her what she used to be before he married her. I'll fix it so that he'll never give her a home if she does come back."

"Oh, he'll never want her to come back after I have told him my story, too," said Crisp.

"Well, well, old Meg will make sure. I'll set the trap this time and if anybody gets shot it'll be her. Zula's got her pay for her deviltry and Rene shall get hers. I never could see how Zu got away so sleek. I believe she was a witch, anyway, but she's dead and died crazy, so Rene says, and I am glad of it. She'll never bother us again."

"No, that she won't," said Crisp, "and if she ain't dead, she'll never show her head around here again."

A knock was heard at the door.

"Come in," said Crisp, in a loud voice.

Scott Wilmer and Mr. Le Moyne entered.

"This is a friend of mine," said Scott. "I invited him to come in with me as I was passing."

"Take some chairs," said Meg, still keeping her seat and smoking vigorously.

"Meg," said Scott, "I have not long to stay, so you will excuse me if I proceed immediately to business. You promised to tell me what you knew concerning my wife."

Meg nodded her head, but did not raise her eyes from the floor.

"Do you pretend to know where she is?" asked Scott.

"No, I don't know just now."

"But you promised to tell me something of her past life."

"Yes."

"Are you ready to do so?"

"No," said Meg, decidedly.

"For what reason."

"I can't tell you that now."

"Can you tell me anything about Rene's father?" Scott asked.

"What do you know of her father?"

"I asked you a question."

Meg looked at Scott with fierce and searching eyes, but she quailed before the far more searching gaze of Scott.

"Who told you of my secrets?" Meg asked.

"That does not matter. I asked you to tell me what you of your own free will promised."

"Well," said Meg, knocking the ashes from her pipe, "I am in need of money, but I don't sell my wisdom for nothing."

"Meg," said Scott, in a commanding tone, "I never fail to do as I promise. I have told you that you would be well paid for whatever information you may possess, and I wish you to name a time when you will be ready to impart it to me as you have promised to do. Do you know anything of a certain portion of a mining country in California, owned by Rene's father?"

Meg started, and said:

"So you are after more news, are you?"

"Answer my question."

"Maybe you'll pay me as the rest did, as both of them did, but I can tell you I ain't to be fooled this time. Old Meg ain't wise, but she will get her money in advance."

"Very well, you need not be uneasy about the money; I want to know just when you will tell me what you have promised."

Old Meg sat with downcast eyes for a moment, then she said, bringing her cinched fist upon her knee, as though to make the statement stronger:

"When you give me five hundred dollars, and tell me where Rene is."

"Your information must be valuable."

"It is worth that to you."

"I will agree to it, providing you tell me what I wish to know. When will you come?"

"Before the snow flies."

Scott and Le Moyne left the house, and as the door closed after them Meg arose, and standing before Crisp, with lips fairly purple with rage, and eyes from which gleamed the fire of hatred, she said:

"Crisp, we may as well get our money and go. There's another one on our track, and there is no use to try to hide it any longer. They'll shut the whole of us up."

"They never will; we'll slip away first."

"But we must get the money first."

"Yes," said Crisp, sullenly, "but the devil seems to be to pay all around."

Meg and Crisp spent the remainder of the day in planning just how they would take their departure from the city, and so greatly was Meg's mind disturbed by the appearance of Le Moyne that she slept but little.

It was near the middle of October that Scott called one day to visit Miss Elsworth. He had called often, and each visit served to increase his respect and admiration. Not that he had any intention of falling in love with her, but there was a charm about her that made him desirous of her company. She was so beautiful, so simple in her attire, so easy and graceful in her manners, and above all so entertaining in her conversation that he forgot half his heartaches when in her society. June had said to him one day as he sat reading:

"Scott, why do you not marry Miss Elsworth?"

"How do you know that I could?" he asked, in true Yankee style.

"No man ever knows until he has inquired. Why do you not ask her?"

"Why, June," he said, looking up suddenly, "I would be almost afraid to marry any woman."

"I do not believe she could be a wicked woman if she were to try," said June.

"It does not seem so, but we cannot tell; but I have not the least idea that Miss Elsworth would marry me if I wished her to."

"I do not see how she could help it," said June, ardently.

"Every one does not admire me as you do, June," said Scott, with a smile.

"It is because they do not know you, then," June replied.

Miss Elsworth was seated in her cozy parlor when a visitor was announced.

"Ah, Mr. Wilmer," she said, with a smile that went straight to his heart, "I am glad to see you. I have a little business to transact that takes a lawyer's head to accomplish, though I am not partial to that class of men."

"I am sorry," he said, as he took the chair she offered him. He had not intended to fall in love with her, and he had said to himself that he would not allow it; but, alas for his intentions. He really had never known what love was until now. He spoke to her of it, and her great dreamy eyes looked into his own with a look of pitiful sadness, as she said:

"I am sorry you have spoken of love to me, Mr. Wilmer. Perhaps if you consider it for a while you will decide that it is not best."

"My decision was made before I spoke to you, Miss Elsworth."

"I am very selfish," she said. "I want the first and only love, and that you cannot give me."

"Perhaps not the first; but I can give you the greatest and deepest love my heart has ever known. I will not censure my dead wife nor speak of her faults; but this I will say, that she never held the place in my heart that you do."

"It seems strange to me, Mr. Wilmer, to hear you speak of love. I did not think you would ever love another woman."

"Perhaps I never should had you not crossed my path."

He came and stood by her chair, but he made no demonstration of the all-absorbing love of his generous nature. He looked calmly down at the fair face beside him, and if he thought her the most beautiful woman on earth she did not know it.

"Blanche."

She looked quickly up into his face.

"Do not be frightened. It is not for your lovely face that I admire you most, but for the rich depth of thought and the true nobility of your character. You may be far above me in social rank and you have won a name that is fast becoming an everyday word. You no doubt have and will still have offers of marriage from men far up in the social scale, and I have been disgraced, and I only lay my love at your feet for you to stoop down and accept or to cast it aside as you see fit. I dare not hope for a return. Nay, I do not expect it, but I must let you know that the greatest love that I have ever known, or ever shall know, is and will be the love I have for you."

Miss Elsworth arose and stood with clasped hands and eyes looking downward. She turned her face away from Scott's gaze and remained silent.

"You have no answer for me?" Scott said, while his clear, rich voice trembled with emotion. "You cannot give what I have given you, and I do not blame you that it is so."

She turned and looked in to his face with sorrowful eyes, saying:

"I am so sorry you have spoken those words to me."

"Do not let it grieve you; my heart has long since been schooled to bear the bitterest disappointments, and I shall have the strength to bear even this. I would not have you entertain one sorrowful thought for me, for I should be less happy if I thought you grieved for one hour."

"If it could be----"

She stopped suddenly.

"It cannot. I will say the words that you are trying so hard to speak--that you cannot love me; but I could not be satisfied until I heard the words from your own lips. I am not a nobleman or a man who adores fashionable society; but, oh, my darling, I have a heart!"

She started as though she had seen a ghost.

"Forgive me," he said, "but I have a heart that would appreciate a world of love if it were given me--a love that would shield you from the faintest touch of the world's rude blast and shelter you as the mother bird covers her tender nestlings."

Blanche Elsworth's hands were clasped more firmly together, and the strong, brave woman was trembling in every limb; but her voice was firm and had lost none of its musical sound as she spoke, though her face was full of sadness. "Scott Wilmer," she said, "I wish these words had never been spoken to me. Not because they sound unpleasant, for there is a beauty in them that I have never dreamed of. Through years of obscurity I have watched your noble character; I have been a witness to your joys and your sorrows. I have known of your bearing with patience the hardest trials of life, and I have said that not in all the world is there another man like Scott Wilmer. You were a stranger to me, and I looked on you and worshipped your character."

"I cannot understand you."

"I am speaking but the truth. I watched you through your years of patient endurance, doing that which few men on earth would do, and when I stepped from my obscure position and entered the great world where you dwelt I still looked on and worshipped, and as the clouds grew thicker and thicker about you my admiration grew stronger. I will not deny the truth, Scott Wilmer, I had no right to love the man, but I had a right to admire and respect the true heroic character, and this I did."

"My darling," he said, "do you mean what you say? Dare I hope that you will be mine, and is there no barrier between us?"

"Yes, there is a barrier between us, for, though I love you, there is no hope for us."

"No hope for love like ours?"

"No, no; and when I have told you why, you will be satisfied to leave me."

"I can see nothing to separate us--nothing but death."

"Scott, you have been deceived once, and I cannot deceive you again."

"Don't," he said, as a pained look passed over his face.

"I shall never deceive you, even in one thought, for I could not, even though I were to gain a life of happiness by so doing."

"But it is true that you love me?"

"Yes, 'tis true; but now you must leave me."

"Leave you when your heart is sad?"

"Yes, leave me, even though my heart is breaking."

"Not until you tell me why I must do so," Scott said, with a smile.

"I cannot tell you to-day. When I have schooled my heart to do my bidding then I will come to you and tell you that which perhaps will turn your love to hatred."

"It will be a terrible tale that will change my heart, for earth has never held for me the happiness of this hour. There is one thought that rises and throws light over all the dark clouds--it is that you love me!"

"Be satisfied, then, to love me until we meet again, and till then let us both be happy."

Scott leaned over and pressed his lips to her forehead; then, ere the door closed after him, he stopped and, gazing steadily at her face, he said: "Blanche, I shall leave you now, but I shall expect you to send me word to come again soon; otherwise I shall come without an invitation."

"Good bye," she said, without even raising her eyes, "I will send for you soon," and the next moment she was left alone.

"How much less brave I am than I thought I should be if this ever came. Oh, to think that I have struggled all my life to do right, to be free from sin and disgrace, have stepped over the roughest paths and had my feet pierced with the sharpest thorns; and now when the doors of heaven are opened to me and the glory of its sunlight is bursting upon me, the cloud that never can be lifted falls before me, shutting out that light that would make my earthly paradise. I shall try to be as brave as he will be when he knows the truth. Oh, I wonder if I can, or will the skeleton still be my constant companion? No, no, it shall not; I will put it away from me, and, going out in the world, leave it behind me; and if God wills it so, I will live only for the work that lies before me, and there is enough of that to keep my hands and head busy. But, oh, how hard it is to know that one cruel misfortune in life can wreck every hope and turn every bright dream of life to a dark and hopeless reality! But I will let him see how bravely I shall bear the cross that never can be lifted from my shoulders."