Helen Ford

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.

CHAPTER XXVII.

HELEN’S BANQUET

When Helen had departed on her errand, Mr. Sharp commenced,—

“You will pardon me,” he said, “if, in the preliminary inquiries I may have to make, there may be anything of a nature to harrow up your feelings, or recall painful scenes.”

Mr. Ford looked surprised.

“May I inquire if you have a father living?”

A painful shadow flitted over the face of Mr. Ford. He answered, presently,—

“You may be surprised when I answer, that I do not know.”

“I am not surprised,” said Mr. Sharp, inclining his head gently. “This was the answer I anticipated.”

Once more Mr. Ford regarded his visitor with a look of surprise.

“Is it possible,” he said, not without hesitation, “that you should know anything of my unhappy history?”

“Of that you shall judge. What if I should say, for example, that the name by which you are known is not your real one?”

“I cannot conjecture where you obtained your information, but it is correct. My real name is not Ford.”

“And is—Rand.”

“You are right; but how–”

“A moment, if you please. I have more to tell you. You were born to wealth, and being an only son, were sole heir to your father’s possessions. You were not, however, without a companion,—a cousin, whom your father generously took under his charge.”

“Lewis?”

“Yes, Lewis Rand; he shared your studies and your sports, and was, in all respects, treated like yourself. The only difference was in your prospects. You were to inherit a large fortune, while he–”

“My father would have provided for him.”

“No doubt, but not equally. That would not have been expected, of course. When Lewis grew old enough to understand this, it filled him with envy and jealousy.”

“Can this be true?” asked Robert Ford—to call him by the name to which we are accustomed,—“can this be true? yet he was always cordial and friendly. His manner never afforded any ground for suspecting that he cherished such feelings.”

“He knew his own interests too well for that. Inferior as his prospects were, they all depended upon your father’s good-will. It would, therefore, have been in the highest degree unwise, to disclose a feeling sure to alienate it.”

“Perhaps you are right,” said Mr. Ford, thoughtfully.

“Therefore, he only nursed this feeling in secret. Yet he none the less watched for an opportunity to injure you. His patience was at length rewarded. That time arrived.”

Robert Ford, as if half surmising what was to follow, rose in some agitation, and began to pace the room.

“I trust,” said Mr. Sharp, “you will excuse me for introducing a delicate subject. There is a time when the susceptible heart of a young man first yields to the tender passion.”

“I understand you,” said Mr. Ford, in a low voice.

“Am I right in saying, that however nobly adorned in other respects, the object of your attachment was not wealthy?”

Mr. Ford bowed his head.

“Unfortunately for your happiness, your father wished you to wed a wealthy wife, and withheld his approbation from your choice. You, my dear sir, with a magnanimity, which, I am sure, does you infinite credit, clung to your chosen bride, portionless though she was, and, in spite of your father’s disapprobation, married her.”

“I did,” said Robert Ford, with emotion; “and however grieved I may have been, and still am, at my father’s continued resentment, that step I never regretted. You have seen Helen. It may have been a parent’s partiality, but I have always regarded her as uncommonly sweet and attractive.”

Mr. Sharp, in a very high-flown eulogium, intimated that such was his own estimate.

“When I tell you,” pursued Mr. Ford, “that Helen bears a very striking resemblance to her mother, not in person only, but in sweetness and amiability, your heart will suggest an excuse for my perhaps unfilial conduct.”

“Sir,” said Mr. Sharp, warmly, “had you done otherwise than you did, had you abandoned, at the bidding of a paltry self-interest, the heart that had learned to love and trust you, I should not have felt one half the respect for you which I now entertain. But, to resume my story. The first difficulty between your father and yourself was hailed with delight by your cousin. It was an occasion for which he had long been watching. It is needless to say, that he used every means to widen the breach, so artfully, however, as not to allow either your father or yourself to suspect his purpose. Possibly you can recall some circumstances which will confirm what I have said.”

“I remember,” said Robert, thoughtfully, “that my cousin professed to sympathize with me most warmly, and counselled me, by all means, to carry out my purpose, in opposition to my father’s will. He assured me that my father would finally yield, when he learned that my heart was unalterably fixed, and that opposition would prove unavailing.”

“At the same time,” said the lawyer, “he was giving similar assurances to your father. He told him, that when you were satisfied that his consent could not be obtained, you would yield the point, and conform to his wishes.”

“Was my cousin indeed so wicked?” asked Robert, with more pain than anger in his tone.

“That was not all. In order to add to your father’s indignation, he took care to describe your betrothed in the most odious colors. He not only charged her with poverty, but represented her as an artful and designing country girl, uneducated and unrefined, whose only object in marrying you was to gratify a vulgar taste for finery and ostentation. In fact, he taxed his imagination to the utmost, in the endeavor to portray her in a manner which he knew would render her most unacceptable to the family pride of your father. I should add that he even denied her the charm of personal beauty, and pictured her to your father as equally unattractive in mind and person.”

A red spot glowed in the pale cheek of Robert Ford, who, mild as he was, could not hear unmoved this vile slander upon one he loved. To do Mr. Sharp justice, what he said was not exaggerated, but strictly in accordance with truth.

“Are you sure of this?” he asked, pacing the room in a perturbed manner.

“I am. You shall know my authority soon, but not now.”

“Now, I am not surprised at my father’s continued resentment. To traduce my Helen so cruelly!”

“You will not wonder that all this should have had the effect intended,—that of confirming your father in his opposition. You married, and left this part of the country.”

“Yes; I went to the West.”

“And did you hear nothing from your father afterwards?”

“Never, directly.”

“Yet you had not been married six months before he began to relent, and feel that he might have exercised undue severity.”

“Is it, indeed, so?” asked Robert, his face lighting up.

“It is. I need scarcely say that your cousin observed, with apprehension, your father’s returning mildness. Lest it might lead to a complete reconciliation, he resolved to get your father out of the country. He accordingly proposed a European tour, to which he procured your father’s assent. Preparations were hurriedly made. They sailed for Liverpool, and several years were spent in visiting the principal cities of Europe.”

Robert Ford, to whom this was new, listened intently.

“At length they returned. Then, in order that you might more effectually lose all trace of your father, he persuaded him to sell the estate upon which he had hitherto resided, and remove–”

“Whither?” demanded Mr. Ford, eagerly.

“I will tell you presently.”

“I had written to my father. Were none of my letters received?”

“They were,—by Lewis. Of course, he took care to suppress them. Nevertheless, your father still felt a strong desire to see you once more, and tell you that he had forgiven you. Lewis again became alarmed, and, as a last resort, caused your death to be inserted in a western paper, and shown to your father. This was sufficient for that time. Within a brief period, however, his apprehensions and your father’s desire to see you have again become excited. Your father one day caught a glimpse of you in the street.”

“What do you say?” exclaimed Robert Ford, in agitation. “My father saw me? Where does he live?”

“In this city,—in New York. He recognized you in spite of the long separation, and so did Lewis; but the latter took the greatest care to assure your father that he was mistaken; that you had long been dead. Nevertheless, he was not wholly convinced. Though not in the least doubting your cousin’s good faith, he answered that there might be some mistake; that it was possible you were still living.”

“My dear father!”

“The uncertainty, and the anxious longing to see you, to which it has given rise, has, together with his age, made him severely ill. His life is even in danger.”

“He is not dead!” exclaimed Robert, in an agitated tone.

“No, or I should have been informed. He directed your cousin to advertise for you in the public papers, such was his desire to hear from you, if still living.”

“I have not looked into a paper for months.”

“If you had, you would not have seen the advertisement. Your cousin has been much too careful for that. Though he appeared to acquiesce in your father’s desire, and made him believe that he had complied with his request, he never did so.”

“And is my father still sick?”

“He is, and his greatest desire is to see you before he dies.”

Robert Ford rose hastily, and, going to the table, took his hat.

“What would you do, sir?”

“I must go and see my father. Did you not say he wished it?”

“Stay,” said Mr. Sharp; “whatever is to be done must be done cautiously, or your cousin’s suspicions will be aroused, and your purpose frustrated. I will arrange matters, if you will authorize me.”

“Surely; but let not the delay be too long. Perhaps my father will die before I can see him.”

“I will take care to expedite matters.”

“I leave all in your hands; but tell me at least where you have obtained the information you have communicated.”

“From your cousin himself.”

“Did he confess it, then?” asked Mr. Ford, surprised.

“He consulted me professionally. But, sir,” continued Mr. Sharp, in a tone of lofty consciousness, “as soon as I became aware of the iniquity in which he desired my assistance, I at once determined to do all that might be in my power to defeat his nefarious designs.”

Nothing could exceed the moral dignity with which Mr. Sharp uttered these words.

“I will not tell you,” he continued, with commendable self-denial, “how many thousands your cousin offered, if I would assist him. But for the hope of aiding in his discomfiture, I should have rejected his offers with indignation. Money is no temptation to me where right is concerned. But to the point. In the present case, I temporized. Your cousin even now thinks I am devoted to his interests, and it is best that he should not be undeceived.”

“Do you know where my father lives?” inquired Robert, anxiously.

“It is in Fifth Avenue. After dinner I will give you the direction so that you cannot miss it. You must be cautious in your approach, and when the door is opened, proceed at once to your father’s room. It is very probable that the servant will oppose your progress, but if you yield, Lewis will take good care that you never have another opportunity. May I request on the score of prudence, that you will not compromise me, or drop the slightest intimation that I have had any agency in sending you thither?”