Nothing but Money! CHAPTER 33.
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After writing, as he had promised to Lydia, an account of her father's condition — stating that he was at home with his family again — Doctor Hofland dismissed the subject from his mind, as one not involving any special care or responsibility on his part, and heard nothing about Mr. Guyton for several weeks. Then, with no little astonishment, he learned, that, when removed from the hospital, instead of being taken home, he was sent to a private asylum somewhere in the State of New York, and that, within a few days, a commission of lunacy had pronounced him hopelessly insane.
Not long afterwards it came to the Doctor's knowledge, that a guardian had been appointed for Mr. Guyton's children, and his entire property removed from his control. As far as he could learn, Justin Larobe, the lawyer before mentioned, had been an active mover in the case, as legal adviser of Mrs. Guyton, and was the duly appointed guardian.
"As well put sheep in the guardianship of a wolf!" said the Doctor, to his wife, in communicating the information. "If anything could restore rational vigor to the mind of Adam Guyton, it would be a knowledge of the fact, that his dearly loved treasures were in the grasp of this unscrupulous man. If there are any legal tricks by which the heirs can be defrauded, as surely as the sun shines, are they doomed to poverty, even though their father's gold may now be counted by scores of thousands."
So covertly were all the proceedings growing out of Mr. Guyton's mental state conducted, that Henry knew nothing about them until the decree establishing a guardianship was issued, and Mr. Larobe announced himself as standing to him in his father's place. Henry, now in his twenty-first year, could not repress his indignation.
"Why was I not consulted in this thing?" he demanded.
"You must put that question to your mother," was the lawyer's cool answer.
And, he did so, within the next ten minutes. The reply was characteristic of the woman, and significant of her purposes.
"Minors are not usually consulted in the matter of guardianships."
There was a cold sneer on her lips.
"In eight months, I will be of age, and then — "
Henry checked himself.
"And then? Go on, sir!"
"I will set aside this guardianship."
"Ah, will you?" The lady was cool and cynical. "I am glad to be advised of your intentions so early. Of course, your efforts will be successful, seeing that you are the youngest child."
Stung by her manner, and the cool defiance exhibited in her response, Henry lost control of himself, and indulged in a storm of invective, accusation, and threat, to all of which his step-mother listened without a sign of feeling. When he was done, she said, very calmly,
"Henry, there is one thing that I wish you to understand — you, and all others, claiming to make a part of this household. I am head and ruler; and my will, henceforth, is to be absolute law. Now, I am a peace-lover, and mean that peace shall be maintained here. I will have no more outbreaks of passion — no more 'scenes' — no more calling of hard names — no more fault-finding. If you, as your father's oldest son, are willing to remain on these conditions, well; if not, the world is wide enough for us all. Do you understand me?"
"Perhaps I do!" answered the young man whose face had become deadly pale — pale from intense passion.
"Very well," said Mrs. Guyton, coldly. She was about to turn away, when he pronounced her name, sharply. She looked at him, with a glance of half indifferent inquiry on her face.
"I think I see your hand, madam!"
There was the father's air of stern resolution in the boy.
"Ah?" The sneer in Mrs. Guyton's tone, did not altogether conceal the sudden surprise occasioned by the words and manner of Henry.
"And I do not mean to be driven out, as you propose to yourself. I shall remain, and keep you under surveillance — you, and my precious guardian!"
"Henry! By — " The subtle, self-poised woman, was thrown for an instant off her guard; but she caught up the lines of self-control the moment they dropped from her hands, and grasped them tightly again. In doing so, her teeth sank into her lip so sharply as to draw blood.
"By what? Go on!" For a little while, the boy stood master of the position; but, only for a little while. His step-mother withdrew into herself again, and offered him no salient point of attack, thus baffling his courageous assault.
"I shall not repeat the admonition I gave you a little while ago," she said, with well assumed indifference. "Unless your conduct is in conformity with the rule I have announced as first in this household, you cannot remain; so, if the purpose to act as a spy is carried out, you must put yourself on your good behavior — otherwise, the design will signally fail."
And, passing out from the room in which the interview occurred, she left Henry to his own thoughts, which were far from being as clear and determinate as he had sought to make his step-mother believe.
Only a few weeks were permitted to elapse from the date of Larobe's appointment as guardian, before he gave formal notice to the firm in which Mr. Guyton was senior partner, of his intention to withdraw the interest he represented; in other words, to dissolve the co-partnership, and change the status of property held in the business. Against this, Henry at once protested in the most resolute manner. He understood at a glance, the wrong involved in such a step — especially, the wrong to himself; for he had steadily looked forward to a position in the firm as partner; and, since his father's unfortunate loss of reason, to an actual representation of his interest.
"You will not agree to this?" he said to his father's partners, confident that they would interpose in some way to prevent so fatal a step from being taken — a step which must separate the estate, now held in trust for the heirs of his father, from large annual dividends in one of the most profitably conducted establishments in the city.
"We have no alternative," was the answer received by Henry. "Mr. Larobe is competent to order a dissolution, and we must submit."
"May I see the written agreement, under which the firm now exists?"
The partners looked at each other, inquiringly, hesitated, and then one made answer —
"That will be submitted to Mr. Larobe, as representative of your father's estate. He alone has a right to call for it."
Henry understood them now. Why should there be any hesitation about letting him see the agreement? He felt that there could only be one answer to the question. They were eager to seize the advantage offered, by which this whole business would fall into their hands; seize it at once, untramelled by any stipulations looking to an ultimate dissolution of the firm which might exist in the partnership papers.
And this was the truth. According to mutual agreement, expressed in writing, one year's notice of intended withdrawal from the firm had to be given. If this were adhered to, the interest of Mr. Guyton could not be closed for a year. But, Mrs. Guyton, acting through Larobe, was eager to have all the property in a controllable shape as quickly as possible, and particularly before Henry reached the age of twenty-one. The business partners of Mr. Guyton, accepting the opportunity for getting rid of their senior, by which they might grasp the entire establishment for themselves, were willing to meet the views of his legal representative, and arrange for an immediate closing of his interest, which was done as speedily as possible.
It was in vain that Henry remonstrated, and insisted on seeing the articles of agreement; he only worked alienation towards himself in both parties, and gave a fair opportunity to his father's old associates in business to signify their wish to dispense with Henry's presence at the desk he had been occupying for over a year. Removed in consequence from a position where he would have been able to keep himself advised in regard to the progressive withdrawal of his father's interest, with the amounts paid over, and the probable line of investments — Henry found himself completely baffled in his purpose to dog the steps of Larobe, who assumed towards him an impenetrable, half-offended reserve, on all occasions when they happened to meet. A small allowance of money was doled out through his step-mother, Larobe refusing to have any business interactions with him, on the ground of having received an insult.
So completely had Mr. Guyton separated himself from social life — so entirely had he put confidence in money alone, as his best and most enduring friend, that now, in the great city where he had lived and grown rich, there was none to look after the interests of his children and protect them from wrong — none to examine into his unhappy case, and see that he was not held a prisoner on pretense of insanity, rather than in a beneficial and needed confinement.
Suddenly, a tempest had swept down upon the sea where he had spread his sails so long and proudly to the summer airs; and, though his vessel went down in the sight of hundreds — none were drawn to the rescue, and few, if any, were conscious of pity or sympathy. Having withdrawn himself from all community of interests — ignoring, in the narrow spirit of mere "self-help," all the generous impulses of mutual help, there was none to care what might befall him in the voyage of life. And so, when disaster came, he was left to the help of his money-gods. If they could not save him, his case was hopeless. Alas! how hopeless it was proving!
A dead calm of months followed. John was still away at sea; but, letters from the captain of the vessel in which he had sailed as supercargo, gave a very discouraging account of his habits and conduct. He seemed to be completely demoralized. Lydia had made several attempts to effect a reconciliation with her family; but all overtures were repulsed. The conduct of Edwin at school, was so bad, that the principal had written several times, threatening to dismiss him. In the midst of all this, the step-mother held herself at a cold distance from Henry and his youngest sister, Frances, who remained at home. Occasionally, Mr. Larobe came to see her, on business; but, these were rare occurrences, as she preferred seeing him at his own office, in order to blind Henry, who was always on the alert. While, so far as Henry knew, the interactions between his step-mother and guardian was limited to rare interviews — not a week passed, without close conference between them.
One day — it was only a month or two from the time when the young man would reach his majority — Henry met Doctor Hofland. They had no acquaintance with each other. In fact, Doctor Hofland did not even know, by sight, the son of his early friend; but, hearing his name mentioned in a company, where both happened to be present, he drew him aside, and made inquiry about his father.
"No better," was the answer received.
"Where is he? "asked the Doctor.
"Somewhere in New York," replied Henry.
"In the city?"
"No, sir; I believe not; somewhere in the state."
"And you don't really know where he is?" The tone of surprise in which this was spoken, brought the blood to Henry's face.
"He's in an Asylum, near Troy." The young man stammered, and looked confused. Doctor Hofland was confounded; for he understood this to be only a guess, or an evasion.
"If you are really in ignorance concerning your father's condition, and place of confinement," he said, with considerable impressiveness of manner, "it is your duty to inform yourself as speedily as possible."
Doctor Hofland could not read, to his own satisfaction, the effect produced by this sentence. Henry was either shocked or offended. No answer was made; and the Doctor, feeling that he had no right to intrude further, remarked on some current topic, and then left the young man to his own thoughts. He, soon after, missed him from the company.
On that same evening, and not very long after his brief interview with Doctor Hofland, Henry presented himself before his step-mother, and, with more agitation in his voice than he had the power to control, said abruptly, and with a significance of tone that startled Mrs. Guyton —
"Where is father!"
"What do you mean? I don't get the drift of your question," said Mrs. Guyton, so calmly as to conceal the quicker pulsations already leaping away from her heart.
"I simply said — where is father!"
"He's in an insane asylum. Were you never made aware of the fact?" How very even was her low-toned voice, in which was just apparent a vein of surprise.
"Of course, I'm aware of that fact; but, from some cause, the location has never been communicated. What my question involves, is the place of asylum."
"And don't you really know?" The expression of astonishment on the part of Mrs. Guyton was very decided.
"That information you have, singularly enough, withheld."
"What do you mean, sir?" A flash sprung from the woman's cold eyes.
"Just what I have said, madam — that information you have, singularly enough, withheld. More than once, I have asked where my father was confined — but never received a satisfactory answer."
"Indeed! Well, you have shown yourself to be a loving and dutiful son!" How bitterly she sneered. "A year, almost, since your poor father was taken away, and yet, in all that time, you remain ignorant and indifferent about him — and don't even know in what institution he is confined!"
"Will you now inform me?" said Henry, mastering, by a vigorous effort, the wave of anger, that was about sweeping him away, and revealing only a slight tremor in his voice.
"Certainly." Mrs. Guyton smiled, and with a mock graciousness of manner that was excessively irritating.
"Where?"
"On Staten Island."
"In what asylum? Where is it located?"
"The institution is one of the best in the country," said Mrs. Guyton, speaking with deliberation, and evidently seeking to gain time for thought, "We placed your father there, because we desired to secure for him in his unhappy condition, the wisest medical treatment, and the highest professional skill."
"What is the name of this institution?" inquired Henry.
"Woodville," answered Mrs. Guyton.
"How is it reached?"
"Mr. Larobe can inform you. I have not been there."
"Although your husband has been away from home for nearly a year!" Henry could not let the opportunity for a retaliatory thrust at his step-mother pass unimproved.
"His mental state is such as to render the presence of his friends unavailing for good. If that were not so, I would have been with him often," said Mrs. Guyton, in imperturbable manner. "But I receive frequent reports of his condition, and have the calm satisfaction of knowing that all in human power to do for him, is done, and done under my direction. If you are in any doubt on this subject, I would advise an early visit to the institution; and, I must say, that your failure to do so up to this time, and general indifference concerning your father, strikes me as very singular. Such indifference in a son, I have never before seen exhibited!"
Henry was not skilled enough in human nature, to read the true meaning of all this. His step-mother was too deep for him.
"I shall not lie under that reproach long" returned the young man, angrily.
"I would not," was coldly answered.
And there the interview ended.
"Will you get for me, from Mr. Larobe, the exact locality of that asylum?" said Henry, to his step-mother, on the next day.
"Why not get it from him yourself?" was replied, "I don't expect to see him very soon."
"Mr. Larobe and I are not on the best of terms; and it will not be agreeable for me to call at his office."
"Oh! I'm sorry. If I see him, I will ask him, of course," said Mrs. Guyton, with indifference. "But it is not at all likely, that he will be here for some time."
"Can't you send him a note?" inquired Henry.
"Yes, I could do so." Mrs. Guyton's answer was not outspoken.
"Will you?"
"I'll think about it," and she retired from the room. Henry soon after left the house. It was beginning to shape itself more and more distinctly in his mind that something was wrong in respect to his father; and at last suspicion took the form of doubt in regard to his real insanity. Might he not be held in confinement, through the bribery of his keepers? The possibility of such a thing, once imagined, shocked the young man, and filled him with anxious alarm. After brooding over the suggestion for awhile, he determined to see Mr. Larobe himself, and learn all that he might feel disposed to communicate in regard to his father; and so, after conquering, with a strong effort, his unwillingness to meet the lawyer, he finally, under self-compulsion, entered his office.
"Can I see Mr. Larobe?" he asked of a young man who was writing at a table.
"He is engaged at present — but will be at leisure in a few minutes. Sit down please" and the young man pointed to a chair.
Henry took the chair. Adjoining the room in which he found himself, was another, the door of which stood ajar. In a little while, he noticed a murmur of voices coming from this room; and his ear soon detected, at intervals, the tones of a woman. Nearly a quarter of an hour elapsed, and still the murmur of voices went on, Henry grew impatient at length, and, rising, walked three or four times across the room.
"I'll drop in again," he said.
"He can't be occupied much longer," interposed the young man, who was a law student in the office.
Henry's hand was now on the door.
"I'll return in half an hour."
"What name shall I give?" asked the student.
"Say that Mr. Guyton called."
"Mr. Guyton! oh!" A gleam of intelligence lighted the young man's face. "Just wait a moment. I'll inform Mr. Larobe that you are here." And the student, first tapping at the door, pushed it open, and gliding into the back office, carefully shut the door behind him. He remained a few moments, and then returning, said —
"Can you call at four o'clock this afternoon? Mr. Larobe has several business engagements this morning — but will be pleased to see you at four."
"Very well. I'll endeavor to be here at the time you mention. Good day." And Henry withdrew, feeling a sense of relief at having escaped meeting with the lawyer, towards whom he entertained a bitter animosity. Not long after his retirement; a lady emerged from the back office, and lingered in earnest conversation — speaking in low tones — with Mr. Larobe.
"I'll manage him; never fear," were the lawyer's last assuring words, as the lady, who was none other than Mrs. Guyton, passed into the street.
Four o'clock came, and Mr. Larobe sat alone in his office, waiting for Henry Guyton. But the young man did not make his appearance. His unwillingness to encounter the lawyer kept him from meeting the engagement. He preferred obtaining the information he sought, through the agency of his step-mother.
"Did you send a note to Mr. Larobe?" he asked, on finding an opportunity to be alone with Mrs. Guyton in the evening.
"I did not," was coldly answered.
"You promised to do so!"
Mrs. Guyton shook her head, at the same time that she compressed her lips firmly.
"You certainly did!" Henry grew a little warm.
"I told you that I would think about it; "and I have done so. From what passed between us last night and this morning, it is plain that certain base and inhuman suspicions in regard to me have entered your mind — suspicions that I feel as outrages. This being the case, I prefer not standing between you and Mr. Larobe, as the medium of intelligence concerning your father. Go to him, and seek the information you desire."
Mrs. Guyton showed unusual feeling for a woman of her cold temperament, and great self-command.
Henry was not prepared for this. His step-mother observed him closely; noting the effect of her opening assault, which was only preparatory of one of greater violence.
"You are to quick to imagine the supposition of wrong," he said, with a significant curl of his upper lip."
"What do you mean, sir!" demanded Mrs. Guyton. with a fierceness of manner that startled Henry. He had never seen his step-mother so moved in his life — never felt such a fear of her as suddenly fell upon him.
"I said," he repeated — but with not half the firmness of his first utterance, "that you were quick to imagine the supposition of wrong."
"I am quick to feel the sting of a false and base insinuation, sir! — quick, as all true and honorable minds are," answered Mrs, Guyton, with increasing indignation of manner. "And I tell you, sir, that you have gone just one step too far in a series of long continued outrages; and from this hour, I shall hold you at a distance. If you choose to place yourself in a position of antagonism, well; you have a right to the election, and also to the fruits thereof. Consider me from this time your enemy, if you will. I shall not shrink from the relation, depend upon it!"
Henry had in him too much of his father's dogged self-will to dream of stooping to conciliation.
"Just as you like!" he simply said. Then added, with a threat in his voice, "The law is just; and I shall be of age in two months."
A gleam of cruel triumph lit the eyes of his stepmother; and she answered, in a hissing whisper —
"Those who take the sword, sometimes perish by the sword! Try the law, and abide by the law."
Both parties were too much excited to continue that wordy contest, as each felt; and so they mutually retired from the field. The quarrel was really of Mrs. Guyton's seeking, though apparently brought on by Henry; but she was betraying herself a little too far under the pressure of angry feeling, and was glad to recede, lest unwise utterance should fall from her lips.
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