The House of a Thousand Candles by Meredith Nicholson (good ebook reader .TXT) 📖

was my friend and the friend of my family,

if I did not feel kindly toward you and wish you well.

And I must say for my niece—”

 

“Miss Devereux.” I found a certain pleasure in pronouncing

her name.

 

“Miss Devereux is very greatly disturbed over the

good intentions of your grandfather in placing her name

in his will. You can doubtless understand how uncomfortable

a person of any sensibility would be under the

circumstances. I’m sorry you have never met her. She

is a very charming young woman whose happiness does

not, I may say, depend on other people’s money.”

 

She had never told, then! I smiled at the recollection

of our interviews.

 

“I am sure that is true, Sister Theresa.”

 

“Now I wish to speak to you about a matter of some

delicacy. It is, I understand perfectly, no business of

mine how much of a fortune Mr. Glenarm left. But

this matter has been brought to my attention in a disagreeable

way. Your grandfather established this

school; he gave most of the money for these buildings.

I had other friends who offered to contribute, but he insisted

on doing it all. But now Mr. Pickering insists

that the money—or part of it at least—was only a loan.”

 

“Yes; I understand.”

 

“Mr. Pickering tells me that he has no alternative in

the matter; that the law requires him to collect this

money as a debt due the estate.”

 

“That is undoubtedly true, as a general proposition.

He told me in New York that he had a claim against

you for fifty thousand dollars.”

 

“Yes; that is the amount. I wish to say to you, Mr.

Glenarm, that if it is necessary I can pay that amount.”

 

“Pray do not trouble about it, Sister Theresa. There

are a good many things about my grandfather’s affairs

that I don’t understand, but I’m not going to see an

old friend of his swindled. There’s more in all this

than appears. My grandfather seems to have mislaid

or lost most of his assets before he died. And yet he

had the reputation of being a pretty cautious business

man.”

 

“The impression is abroad, as you must know, that

your grandfather concealed his fortune before his

death. The people hereabouts believe so; and Mr. Pickering,

the executor, has been unable to trace it.”

 

“Yes, I believe Mr. Pickering has not been able to

solve the problem,” I said and laughed.

 

“But, of course, you and he will co��perate in an effort

to find the lost property.”

 

She bent forward slightly; her eyes, as they met

mine, examined me with a keen interest.

 

“Why shouldn’t I be frank with you, Sister Theresa?

I have every reason for believing Arthur Pickering a

scoundrel. He does not care to co��perate with me in

searching for this money. The fact is that he very

much wishes to eliminate me as a factor in the settlement

of the estate. I speak carefully; I know exactly

what I am saying.”

 

She bowed her head slightly and was silent for a moment.

The silence was the more marked from the fact

that the hood of her habit concealed her face.

 

“What you say is very serious.”

 

“Yes, and his offense is equally serious. It may

seem odd for me to be saying this to you when I am a

stranger; when you may be pardoned for having no

very high opinion of me.”

 

She turned her face to me—it was singularly gentle

and refined—not a face to associate with an idea of

self-seeking or duplicity.

 

“I sent for you, Mr. Glenarm, because I had a very

good opinion of you; because, for one reason, you are

the grandson of your grandfather,”—and the friendly

light in her gray eyes drove away any lingering doubt

I may have had as to her sincerity. “I wished to warn

you to have a care for your own safety. I don’t warn

you against Arthur Pickering alone, but against the

countryside. The idea of a hidden fortune is alluring;

a mysterious house and a lost treasure make a very enticing

combination. I fancy Mr. Glenarm did not realize

that he was creating dangers for the people he

wished to help.”

 

She was silent again, her eyes bent meditatively upon

me; then she spoke abruptly.

 

“Mr. Pickering wishes to marry my niece.”

 

“Ah! I have been waiting to hear that. I am exceedingly

glad to know that he has so noble an ambition.

But Miss Devereux isn’t encouraging him, as near as

I can make out. She refused to go to California with

his party—I happen to know that.”

 

“That whole California episode would have been

amusing if it had not been ridiculous. Marian never

had the slightest idea of going with him; but she is

sometimes a little—shall I say perverse?—”

 

“Please do! I like the word—and the quality!”

 

“—and Mr. Pickering’s rather elaborate methods of

wooing—”

 

“He’s as heavy as lead!” I declared.

 

“—amuse Marian up to a certain point; then they annoy

her. He has implied pretty strongly that the claim

against me could be easily adjusted if Marian marries

him. But she will never marry him, whether she benefits

by your grandfather’s will or however that may be!”

 

“I should say not,” I declared with a warmth that

caused Sister Theresa to sweep me warily with those

wonderful gray eyes. “But first he expects to find this

fortune and endow Miss Devereux with it. That is a

part of the scheme. And my own interest in the estate

must be eliminated before he can bring that condition

about. But, Sister Theresa, I am not so easily got rid

of as Arthur Pickering imagines. My staying qualities,

which were always weak in the eyes of my family, have

been braced up a trifle.”

 

“Yes.” I thought pleasure and hope were expressed

in the monosyllable, and my heart warmed to her.

 

“Sister Theresa, you and I are understanding each

other much better than I imagined we should,”—and

we both laughed, feeling a real sympathy growing between

us.

 

“Yes; I believe we are,”—and the smile lighted her

face again.

 

“So I can tell you two things. The first is that Arthur

Pickering will never find my grandfather’s lost

fortune, assuming that any exists. The second is that

in no event will he marry your niece.”

 

“You speak with a good deal of confidence,” she said,

and laughed a low murmuring laugh. I thought there

was relief in it. “But I didn’t suppose Marian’s affairs

interested you.”

 

“They don’t, Sister Theresa. Her affairs are not of

the slightest importance—but she is!”

 

There was frank inquiry in her eyes now.

 

“But you don’t know her—you have missed your

opportunity.”

 

“To be sure, I don’t know her; but I know Olivia

Gladys Armstrong. She’s a particular friend of mine,

—we have chased rabbits together, and she told me a

great deal. I have formed a very good opinion of Miss

Devereux in that way. Oh, that note you wrote about

Olivia’s intrusions beyond the wall! I should thank

you for it—but I really didn’t mind.”

 

“A note? I never wrote you a note until to-day!”

 

“Well, some one did!” I said; then she smiled.

 

“Oh, that must have been Marian. She was always

Olivia’s loyal friend!”

 

“I should say so!”

 

Sister Theresa laughed merrily.

 

“But you shouldn’t have known Olivia—it is unpardonable!

If she played tricks upon you, you should not

have taken advantage of them to make her acquaintance.

That wasn’t fair to me!”

 

“I suppose not! But I protest against this deportation.

The landscape hereabouts is only so much sky,

snow and lumber without her.”

 

“We miss her, too,” replied Sister Theresa. “We have

less to do!”

 

“And still I protest!” I declared, rising. “Sister

Theresa, I thank you with all my heart for what you

have said to me—for the disposition to say it! And

this debt to the estate is something, I promise you, that

shall not trouble you.”

 

“Then there’s a truce between us! We are not enemies

at all now, are we?”

 

“No; for Olivia’s sake, at least, we shall be friends.”

 

I went home and studied the time-table.