A Daughter of the Forest - Evelyn Raymond (iphone ebook reader txt) 📗

dear, but we never shake the hand of a prisoner, except when he is leaving. Not always then.”

“Kate, wait a minute. Tell me all about that man. I thought the prisoners were kept under lock and key. I thought—— Oh! it’s so awful, so incredible.”

“Why, Adrian! How foolish. Your artistic temperament, I suppose, and you cannot help it. No. They are by no means always kept so close. This one is a ‘trusty.’ So were all the orchestra. So are all whom you see about the house or grounds. This man is the model for the whole prison. He is worth more, in keeping order, than a hundred keepers. His influence is something wonderful, and his life is a living sermon. His repentance is unmistakably sincere, and his conduct will materially shorten his term, yet it will be a dark day for the institution when he leaves it. I cannot help but like him and trust him; and yet—— Dear, dear! I must not loiter here. I must get back to my guests.”

“Wait, wait. There’s something I want to ask you. To tell you, too. Do you know who that man is?”

Kate shivered.

“Do I not? Oh! Adrian, though I have brought myself to look upon him so indulgently now, it was not so at first. Then I hated the sight of his face, and could scarcely breathe in the room where he was. He is under life-sentence for manslaughter and—I wonder if I ought to tell you! But I must. The situation is so dramatic, so unprecedented. The man whom Number 526 tried to kill, and whom he robbed of many thousands, was—our own father!”

He was not even surprised and her astonishing statement fell pointless, except that he shivered a little, as she had done, and withdrew his hand from her arm, where it had arrested her departure.

“I have heard that already. Mother told me. But I don’t believe it. That man never, never attempted or committed a crime. If he were guilty could he lift his eyes to mine so steadfastly, I, the son of my father? There is some horrible, horrible mistake. I don’t know what, nor how, but there is. And I will find it out, will set it right. I must. I shall never know another moment’s peace until I do. Those eyes of his! Why, sister, do you know that it was little Margot, that man’s daughter, who saved me from starvation in the forest? Yes, saved my life; and whose influence has turned me from an idle, careless lad into—a man.”

If any of those critical guests could have seen his face at that moment they would not have called him stupid; and his excitement communicated itself so strongly to his sister, that she passed her hands across her brow as if to clear her startled thoughts.

“Impossible. Fifteen years has Number 526 lived a prison life, and if there had been any mistake, it would, it must, have been found out long ago. Why, the man had friends, rich ones, who spent great sums to prove his innocence and failed. The evidence was too strong. If he had had his way we two would have long been fatherless.”

Kate turned to leave the room but Adrian did not follow her. The place had become intolerable to him, yet he blessed the chance which had brought him there to see this unhappy fellow-man and to learn this amazing story. Now he could not wait to put distance between himself and the hateful spot, and to begin the unraveling of what he knew, despite all proof, was somebody’s terrible blunder.

As cautiously as any convict of them all, escaping from his fetters, the lad made his way into the street and thence with all speed to the station. He had picked up a hat somewhere, but was still in full dress, and more than one glance fell with suspicion upon his heated countenance and disordered appearance. However, he was too deep in his own thoughts to observe this, and as the train rushed cityward he grew more calm and better able to formulate a plan of action.

“I begin to understand. This yearly visit of the ‘master’ has been to Number 526. They were close friends, and brothers by marriage. This year he has brought Margot with him. Will he, I wonder, will he let her see this convict in stripes? No marvel that my question as to her father’s burial place was an unanswerable one. Mother desired me not to mention the names of my forest friends before my father, but in this I must disobey her. I dare not do otherwise. I must get the whole, complete, detailed history of this awful affair, and there is nobody who could so well remember it as its victim. But I believe there were two victims, and one is suffering still. I only hope that father’s head will not be troubling him. I can’t think of him without these queer ‘spells’ yet he has always been capable of transacting business, and I must get him to talk, even if it does confuse him. Oh! hum! Will we never reach the city! And where is Margot now? If I knew I should hurry to see her first; but—what a welcome her uncle would give me if I succeeded in clearing her father’s name. No wonder he disliked me—rather I am astonished that he let me stay at all, knowing my name, even if not my parentage. After that, of course, I had to go. Yet he was kind and just to the last, despite his personal feeling, and this poor Number 526 looks just as noble.”

The house on Madison Avenue was dark when Adrian reached it, but he knew that his father’s private room was at the rear of the building and, admitting himself with his latch-key, went directly there.

The banker sat in an attitude familiar to all his family, with his hands locked together, his head bent, and his gaze fixed upon vacancy. He might have been asleep for all appearances, but when Adrian entered and bade “Good-evening, father,” he responded promptly enough.

“Good-evening, Adrian. Has your mother come home?”

“No, father. I left—well, I left rather suddenly. In any case, you know, she was to stop for the night with Kate. But I came, right after dinner, because I want to have a talk with you. Are you equal to it, to-night, sir?”

The banker flashed a suspicious glance upward, then relapsed into his former pose. Memories of previous disagreeable “talks” with this, his only son, arose, but Adrian anticipated his remark.

“Nothing wrong with me, this time, father, I hope. I am trying to learn the business and to like it. I——”

“Have you any money, Adrian?”

“A little. What is left of my salary; more than I should have if mother hadn’t fitted my wardrobe out so well. A clerk even in your bank doesn’t earn a princely sum, you remember; not at first.”

It was a well-known fact, upon the “street,” that the employees of “Wadislaw’s” received almost niggardly payment. Wadislaw, himself had the reputation of penuriousness, and that his family had lived in the style they had was because Mrs. Wadislaw’s personal income paid expenses.

“Put it away. Put it away where nobody can find it. There are more robbers than honest men in the country. Once I was robbed, myself. Of an enormous sum. I have never recovered from that set-back. We should not have gotten on at all but for your mother. Your mother is a very good woman, Adrian.”

“Why, yes, father. Of course. The very best in the world, I believe. She has only one fault, she will make me go into society, and I dislike it. Otherwise, she’s simply perfect.”

“Yes, yes. But she watches me too closely, boy. Don’t let your wife be a spy upon you, lad.”

“No, I won’t,” laughed he. “But speaking of robberies, I wish you would tell me about that great one which happened to you. It was when I was too young to know anything about it. I have a particular reason for asking. If you are able, that is.”

“Why shouldn’t I be able? It is never out of my mind, night nor day. There was always a mystery in it. Yet I would have trusted him as I trusted myself. More than I would dare trust anybody now, even you, my son.”

The man was thoroughly aroused, at last. Adrian began to question if he had done right in saying what would move him so, knowing that all excitement was apt to be followed by a “spell,” during which he acted like a man in a dream, though never sleeping.

But he resumed the conversation, voluntarily, and Adrian listened intently.

“He was a poor boy from a country farm. Your mother and the girls, were boarding at his home. I went up for Sundays, for I liked his horses. I never felt I could afford to own one—— Don’t buy a horse, Adrian!”

“No, father. Not yet. I’m rather more anxious to buy a certain moose I know and present it to the city Zoo. King Madoc. You remember I told you about the trained animal, who would swim and tow a boat, and could be harnessed to draw a sleigh?”

“Umm. Indeed? Remarkable. Quite remarkable. But I wouldn’t do it, boy. The gift would not be appreciated. Nobody ever does appreciate anything. It is a selfish world. A selfish world, and an ungrateful one.”

“Not wholly, father, I hope.”

“We were talking. What about? I—my memory—so much care, and the difficulty of keeping secrets. It’s hard to keep everything to one’s self when a man grows old, Adrian.”

“Yes, father dear. But I’m at home now to stay. You must trust me more and rely upon me. Believe me, I will deserve your confidence. But it was the boy from the farm you were telling me of, and the horses.”

In all his life Adrian had never drawn so near his father’s real self as he was drawing then. He rejoiced in this fact as a part of the reward of his more filial behavior. He meant wholly what he had just promised, but he was still most anxious to hear this old story from this participant’s own lips, while they were together, undisturbed.

“Yes, yes. Well, I thought I could drive a pair of colts as well as any jockey, though I knew no more about driving than any other city business man. Of course, they ran away, and I should have been killed, but that little shaver—— Why, Adrian, that little shaver just sprung on the back of one, from where he’d been beside me in the wagon, and he held and pulled and wouldn’t let go till they’d quieted down, and then he was thrown off and nearly trampled to death. I wasn’t hurt a bit, not a single bit. You’d think I’d befriend such a brave, unselfish little chap as that, wouldn’t you, lad?”

In the interest of his recital Mr. Wadislaw had risen and paced the floor, but he now sat down again, flushed and a bit confused.

“What did you do for him, father?”

“Hmm. What? Oh! yes. Found out he wanted to come to New York and put him to school. Made a man of him. Gave him a place in the bank. Promoted him, promoted him, promoted him. Till he got almost as high as I was myself. Trusted him with everything even more than myself for he never forgot. It would have been better if he had.”

A long silence that seemed intolerable to Adrian’s impatience.

“Then, father, what next?”

“How curious you are! Well, what could be next? except that I went one night—or day—I don’t