The Queen of Ecuador. A novel

Front matter

ROUTLEDGE'S NEW SERIES OF SIX- SHILLING NOVELS. THE QUEEN OF ECUADOR. By R. M. Manley. THE PASSING SHOW. By Colonel Savage. BY RIGHT, NOT LAW. By R. H. Sherard. THE FLYING HALCYON. By Colonel Savage. STUCK UP. By Nat Gould. THE MYSTERY OF STEPHEN CLAVERTON & CO. SOMETHING OCCURRED. By B. L. Farjeon. 'TWIXT TWO ETERNITIES. By Mrs. R. K. Causton. GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, Limited, LONDON, MANCHESTER, AND NEW YORK. A NOIEEL BY R. M. MANLEY AUTHOR OF " SOME CHILDREN OF ADAM," ETC. COPYRIGHT LONDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, Limited Broadway, Ludgate Hill, E. C. MANCHESTER AND NEW YORK 1894 | All rights reserved] n',- ih>m : BKALiBlRV AGNBW, & CO. LU.. PR1NTBRS, WHITErRIARS CONTENTS. PAGE

Chapter I

— At the Railway Station .... 5 " II. — The Lizard — Am I a South Sea Islander? 13 " III. — Ellen accepts the Role of Spy . . 22 " IV. — Two Anglo-Saxons in Lima . . .36 " V. — In the Vale of Paucartambo . . .46 " VI. — Two Gentlemen of the Court . . 53 " VII. — The Child of the Sun . . . .61 " VIII. — The Ecuador Company— A Meeting after Many Years 65 " IX. — A Crown declined 74 " X. — Denny O'Halloran and Dennis O'Halloran, Esquire 83 " XL — The Lawyer visits the Doctor — Retrospection 88 " XII. — Jeliffe rides to Cross Corners . . 109 " XIII. — Cross Corners has an Enigma . . . 120 " XIV.— The Wicked Gubbses— Mulgrave on Cooks 130 " xv. — sophrony has a flt— the doctor dresses the Lettuce 139 " XVI. — Dinner, Poesy, Rhine Wine, and Tattooing 149 " XVIL— Mr. Boggs on the "Snake Natur" . Contents. 4 PAGE

CHAPTER XVIIL

— The Diversions at Mulgrave's . 166 XIX.— The Submerged Personality . . 181 XX.— A Letter from the Rainbow Kingdom >92 XXI.— The CAT and the Mouse. . . 216 XXIL— "Of all my Troubles the Greatest is that You Love Me" . . 231 " XXIII. — "They looked at one another as though awakened from a Dream" ... . . 243 " XXIV. — " She holds the Wrist with the Grip of Death while her Rigid Finger points to the Lizard" 252 " XXV. — A Soft Nest for a Battered Soldier 258 XXVI. — Somerton finds aVerdict of Guilty7 264 XXVII. — Lawyer Brisbin on Truth and Hysterical Tetanus . . . 276 " XXVIII. — A Disconsolate Widower . . 286 " XXIX. — "Nothing left him but to grieve that his Love had never been " 293 " XXX.— "Can You believe Me Guilty?" . 298 XXXI. — A Strange Trial before an Intelligent Jury 307 XXXII.— Dr. Mulgrave as a Witness . . 317 " XXXIIL — Sophronia as an Heiress . . .

CHAPTER I. AT

the railway station. Somerton is a pretty little city, a county seat antedating the Revolution, and, therefore, venerable as well as fair to look upon. It is situated within the orthodox "hour's ride " of New York, and the real estate agents that infest it, as well as the owners of land in its vicinity, maintain that its atmosphere is peculiarly salubrious ; and as it is, in fact, not peculiarly insalubrious, the asseverations of those alluded to have come to be accepted, and the abnormal healthfulness of Somerton is now estab lished truth. It is only within the last quarter of a century that the air of Somerton has become air of renown. The aborigines had never heard of hygiene, attaining in most cases satisfactory longevity with out knowledge of that modern study ; but in due time the wandering Gothamite, bringing with him the lore of the present, invaded its precincts, and, as he bought and built largely, either in the town itself or in its vicinity, his ideas became of importance, and are to-day assimilated by the inhabitants generally, so that in this year of grace the Somer tonians by birth, as well as those by adoption, know as much about bacilli, microbes, and modern sewage as the rest of a germ-ridden generation.

The firm of Jeliffe & Jeliffe, now represented only by its late junior member, had been the most renowned of the law firms of Somerton ; and Herbert Jeliffe is, by consequence, prominent among Somerton's lawyers. He had, on the demise of his father, who had been his partner, easily slid into the niche once filled by that distinguished jurist, and occupied it now successfully. He was a tall, well-knit man, with hair inclined to curl and of chestnut hue. His beard, somewhat lighter, was of the Van Dyke cut, and through the thinner part his rosy cheeks blushed with indignation at being covered. But his eyes were his greatest glory, being not too large, of yellowish brown, and clear as crystal. He had seen something of the world outside of Somerton, having undergone a college education, an apprentice ship in a New York office, and two or three semes ters at a German university, and by reason of these experiences was at times inclined to regard his field as small, and to pine for a larger one; but he recognized the undoubted fruitfulness of his territory, and was wise enough to be aware that a good fat bird in the hand is worth birds innumerable in the bush.

Besides, certain political aspirations, which soared higher than he would have cared to make known, were nurtured in his bosom, and he knew that their realization was much more proba ble were he to remain a dweller in a region wherein certain desirable attributes pertained to his per sonality by right of descent, and by reason of a repute which would elsewhere have to be hardly earned. These facts do not explain why at thirty he was still a bachelor ; nor are we aware that any explanation can be offered in palliation of an offence so grievous, except that one which will be regarded by the fairer and better portion of humanity as not in his favor, namely, that as yet he had not asked any maiden to be his wife, though it is believed that maid ens there were who would have listened graciously to that petition.

And should some damsel, com mencing his story, be inclined to read no further be cause of the acknowledged dereliction of this young man, her indulgence is entreated on two grounds of exceeding weight : first, that the delinquent, being up to this period of his history heart-whole, is by reason of that fact already interesting ; second, for the still better reason, that the unhappy condition in which he has heretofore lived is almost immediately to belong to the past. Had he himself been inclined to offer an excuse for his unworthy condi tion of bachelor, he would have sadly attributed the fact to an entire absence of ro'mance in his composi tion, and thus have shown the usual knowledge of self. For of romance he was full. So far as he knew, he had no reason for remain ing an idler at the railway station, watching a train approach from the city.

His business there had been transacted, and the important case of the Peo ple versus O'Halloran awaited him at his office; yet he lingered without knowing why, but doubtless in obedience to the laws of fate, for his destiny was to be strangely interwoven with the arrival of the approaching train. Had he been aware of the fact, he might have run away, for though he perhaps believed himself equal to any fortune, that which was coming to him might well have suggested flight, unless, indeed, he was wise enough to know that man cannot escape by flight — a lesson not often learned at thirty. The train stopped. The few passengers for Som erton alighted and imperceptibly melted into space, except one. This one, after glancing about with an uncertain look, came toward Mr. Jeliffe. She was a beautiful girl — " a royal girl," said Jeliffe to himself.

He should rather have said " woman," for she was at least twenty-five years of age. But beautiful she was, coming toward him with a firm, free step; a stately woman, plainly dressed — so plainly that gaudincss would have been less striking — her dress being of dead black, of a certain squareness of cut, and as far from the fashion as possible, yet very fitting to this calm, dark crea ture of strong face, with aquiline nose, rosy lips, and deep brown eyes ; these last " brimful of brains and tenderness," as the lawyer remarked an hour later to the volume of Dutcher's Reports he held in his hand, but which he had not seen since he opened it. The girl, with a manner which Jeliffe thought stately, and which at least was quiet and wholly unembarrassed, asked him: "Are you from Dr. Millard ? " The lawyer wished that he could truthfully say that he was there on behalf of Or, Millard.

He did the best he could. "No," he said, raising his fiats *buc I am going directly past the doctor'3 house., and if I can be of service in showing you the way, I would be pleased." He had meant to say "delighted," and he had intended to smile, in fact to add a little flourish to his little speech (which was only in part true, as his way was not toward the house of Dr. Millard) ; but he had suppressed all this, and had answered with out extravagance of words or manner. Somehow simplicity suited better to this tall, calm, " royal " woman. " I thank you," she said, and she smiled slightly, but oh, so sweetly ! (At least, he later in the day so informed that reporter who became his confidant as to this matter, until circumstances forced another The Qtieen of Ecuador. 10 upon him.) " Excuse my mistake.

Dr. Millard was to meet me or to have somebody meet me. I think it may avoid confusion if I wait here." " If you desire, I can say to the doctor, in passing, that you are here," replied Jeliffe, at his wits' end how to prolong the interview. He expected a polite declination of his offer, a grave bow, and her departure ; but these things did not occur. The lady seemed slightly at a loss, but evidently looked upon the gentleman as one sent by circumstances to help her. Without any obtru sion on her part of such feeling, Jeliffe instinctively knew that she was one who would not hesitate to re quire such assistance as might be convenient with out'undue regard for conventionality — "a woman of resource," as he subsequently expressed it to the reporter. " My situation is somewhat perplexing," she said after a short pause, and noting that he made no movement to depart.

" I am to meet one of three persons, two of whom I have never seen. In default c f Dr. Millard himself, either some one on his behalf, or Dr. Mulgrave." The situation, perplexing to her, was delightful to him. Here was a matter which plainly required his aid — a stranger in a strange land, seeking one of three, having acquaintance only with one ; a lone woman. As a man, as a Christian, his duty was clear. Nevertheless, he saw the necessity of circum spection in performing it. Her calm eyes told him there must be no semblance of trifling; he must dis semble his joy, while essaying to so entangle this matter as to prolong the interview. He spoke with careful sobriety, with almost funereal gravity. " Dr. Mulgrave ? I hardly think there is a physician of that name in town." " No," she answered.

" Dr. Mulgrave resides at Cross Corners." "Of course," replied Jeliffe; "I remember him now. It is very possible that he has been delayed. Cross Corners is some miles from here." And a pleasing, but, he felt, impossible to be realized, vision of himself driving her thither rose before him, to be dispelled as soon as seen ; for at this moment a portly person of the male sex approached,- and Jeliffe knew that his charitable hopes in regard to the stranger were to be frustrated. The lady's back was to the portly person, but the lawyer saw that for himself the case was hopeless. "This is Dr. Millard," he said. "Doctor, I presume you are " The rest of his speech was lost in the doctor's remark. "Miss Clay," he said. "Thanks, Jeliffe. This way, if you please, Miss Clay." And in another moment the lawyer was alone, trying to console himself with the grave but pleasant smile and courteous salutation the lady had vouchsafed him.

The last he actually saw of her was the top of her hat, which appeared above the lowered cover of Dr. Millard's phaeton. But her eyes remained all day before his own, and, reading them as he did, he saw beneath the calm earnestness of their gaze something of sadness and of evil portent, the recognition of which caused him involuntarily to shudder.

Chapter II The Lizard

— AM I A SOUTH SEA ISLANDER? Dr. Alexander Millard was well known beyond the limits of Somerton. A willingness to travel outside the beaten path of the science of medicine, and great success in the treatment of cer tain forms of disease, had made him famous and rich. He stood high in the profession, notwithstanding the fact that the profession regarded him with some distrust, owing principally to that indicated tendency to wander from the prescribed paths of medical science. In all avocations are found men like the old German field -marshal who regarded Napoleon Bonaparte with contempt because that upstart innovator moved troops, and actually gained victories, at a season when all scientific soldiers were seeking winter quarters. Such men deplored the success gained by the erratic methods of Dr. Millard.

But they who looked with coldest disapproval at his course were the youthful fledglings who, fresh from the atmosphere of the halls of learning by rote and the worship of the " ethics," could but regard with horror a man who actually investigated such absurdities as clairvoyance, mad-stones, and the pretensions of jugglery. After a very successful and lucrative career in New York, the doctor had retired to Somerton, with a view to be relieved of the frequent calls made upon him. But his fame in the treatment of nervous and cerebral affections did not allow the obscu rity he sought, and he was still often called upon, principally in the way of consultation. As to fur ther particulars, we have already seen that he was portly, as became his sixty years and his prosperity. He was a bachelor. He was usually driven by a sedate personage in sombre livery, himself occupying the interior of a softly cushioned coupe" ; but, as on this particular morning he had particular reasons for being entirely alone with the companion who sat beside him, he held the reins himself.

To this circumstance may be attributed his silence ; as the phaeton passed through the streets of Somerton, the horse required his attention. The girl at his side was as silent as her conductor; but she often looked at him, and in her manner there was a certain tension and an air of expectancy. The doctor, too, notwithstanding his preoccupation with the horse, occasionally stole a glance at the lady, which glance, fleeting as it was, was one of interest. They had gained the country road ; there were now no vehicles to avoid, no children playing in the streets, no old ladies hovering in the roadway — in short, there was no reason why the doctor need remain silent, and still he spoke not ; a fact which disturbed the person at his side, for a flush, possibly of resentment, brightened the clear brown of her cheek.

" Dr. Millard," she said, with a composure which was evidently forced, " am I to learn nothing, even He turned and looked her in the face. She met his gaze squarely, but with proud remonstrance in her dark eyes. He did not murmur, as Jeliffe had done, " A royal woman ; " but the thought, if not expressed in words, passed through his mind. " Some time ago," she went on, seeing that he was not ready to speak, " I, who have been all my life an enigma to myself, sought a solution of the puzzle in the fact that my existence was of interest to you. My earliest recollections are connected with you. I have been taught to regard you as my guardian. Little as I have seen of you, yet I have known more of you than of any other person. To you I turned to solve the mystery of my life. You know with what result."

She spoke with composure, but her lip trembled a little, and it was evident that she restrained some agitation. The man beside her could not be unaware that his companion was more moved than she wished to seem, and he readily forgave her curtness of ex pression. It was plain to him that she had long brooded over a matter to which, for years, he had hardly given a thought. i "What do you wish to know?" he asked, quite unnecessarily. " I wish the knowledge of myself that you possess. Who am I? What am I? Your kindness or your cruelty has provided for me for years. Your money has procured me clothes, education, the training of a lady, the hopes of such a one. To your influence I am indebted for my position at the hospital, and so for the professional repute I have gained. Am I to regard these things as creating a painful obliga tion ?

Have you done more or less than your duty by me, Dr. Millard?" The composure with which she had commenced had been disturbed. In her voice now there was still sternness, but more of pleading. For him there was nothing but reproach. He had his own idiosyn crasies, and with the knowledge that he, Dr. Millard, in his turn had been the offspring of an undoubted progenitor, it had never occurred to him that for any human being there could be uneasiness by reason of the lack of a knowledge that had been to him a matter of indifference all his days. A new view of human nature was suddenly opened to him, and as suddenly he learned that the kindness of years had been, in some important respects, unkindness. The knowledge grieved him. He was confounded, too, by that suggestion in the words which had asked of him had he done more or less than his duty by her ; but he had to acknowledge that the suspicion they indicated was not unnatural.

" Ellen," he said, " you are not my daughter. Neither to you nor to any one is your existence a matter of reproach." It was a blunt response to that which she had but merely indicated ; but he was a physician, speaking to another physician, and, in fact, she was quite unmoved by the plainness of his speech. But its significance lifted a load from her heart. She was a woman, however, and if oblivious of her injustice to the man at her side, she still remembered his injus tice to her. -" You must have known," she said ; but she said it with humility, and it was apparent that while she seemed to accuse, she was in truth pleading forgive ness — "you must have known that a suspicion so injurious to you, so disturbing to me, would be the result of the little knowledge I had gained of the greater knowledge hidden from me.

How often have I been tempted to requite the generosity of many years by words that, had they been written, would now cover me with shame! Oh, Dr. Millard, was that fair?" She had placed her hand upon his arm, and now looked earnestly into his eyes. His professional intercourse was almost wholly with women, but with women with deranged nervous organizations. He was not accustomed to see eyes so clear as these, nor features so calmly beautiful. " It never oc curred to me that such a thought could enter your mind," he said, truly enough. c She flushed. " Dr. Millard, I am a woman " " Yes, my dear, and a good one, I do not doubt. I am about to prove my confidence in you before we part to-day. Your suspicion was natural, inevitable, perhaps. Mrs. Marvin ought to have unde ceived you." " Can you believe I disclosed it to her, or to any human being ?

The knowledge I gained from her was the knowledge of the facts I have mentioned. My inferences were my own ; they came gradually. I have injured you in my thoughts, but never in words addressed to others. Was it for me to disclose your secret, if, indeed, there were such secret? I have wronged you deeply, doctor, but not basely. If you had but answered my letters otherwise than by merely formal acknowledgments, I would not now have to reproach myself." " My dear," he said, " there is no cause for self reproach. I had good reasons for my silence as to your history. Indeed, it never penetrated my mind that you could nourish any painful speculations as to the matter. Most of us are, if not content, at least convinced of the necessity of taking life and ourselves as we find them. There are so many mysteries which must remain such, that one more or less ought not to make any difference.

I see now that a knowledge of your past is essential to your peace of mind, and I will no longer keep as a secret that which may be known to you and to all men without shame to you. There are elements of romance in the story, yet I hope that you will take a sober view of that which I shall disclose at a more fitting time ; not to-day. I have to day to speak very seriously of another and graver matter." She paid little attention to his last words. Her face was radiant in the knowledge that there was naught of reproach attaching to her. Besides, the puzzle of her life was to be solved. There was more than the elderly man by her 3ide could dream of to make her happy. " At last ! " she sighed, as though a load was lifted from her breast. " I shall know the meaning of the Lizard." " True," he replied, in a matter-of-fact tone.

" Strangely enough, I had forgotten that. You have indeed had a mystery to think about. Had I remembered — had you reminded me of the Lizard — I could have understood better. Have you never suspected ? Has your reading told you nothing? " To explain my decoration — or my disfigure ment ? Nothing." "Is it as plain as ever? "he asked. "I saw it when you were a child ; it was an exquisite piece of work." " It is exquisite to-day ; but think, doctor — labelled so strangely, so horribly, in fact ! But it is like painting on china. I can show it you, or at least its facsimile." She opened her bag and produced from a leather case an object in size and shape resembling a mussel-shell. It was a locket of gold, studded with precious stones and curiously chased. She opened the locket and handed it to her companion.

In a bed of creamy enamel lay a lizard, so life-like that Millard nearly uttered the startled exclamation natural to one suddenly finding a grotesque reptile in his hand. But the momentary feeling of repulsion was instantly lost in admiration of the exquis ite workmanship and brilliancy of the singular jewel. The little reptile was composed of a mosaic of minute gems, curiously inlaid and har moniously blended. Its myriad scales glinted in the sunlight, now shimmering with soft, opalescent tints, now glittering with scintillations of brighter hues. An exclamation of delight broke from the doctor. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "Work to drive an Italian mad with envy ! And it looks like that ? " "It might be that," she answered, "so perfect is the resemblance. Oh, doctor, am I a South Sea Islander?

" " A wonderful, wonderful art," he murmured. " My dear, this was hung about your neck when I first saw you. Your father " "What was he?" she asked, wistfully. "Tell me that much ; I can wait for the rest." "He was an Englishman," he replied, to her surprise. " But be patient ; you shall have the story, and that soon. Let me now beg your attention to a far different matter; this admits of no delay. I wish to tell you why I have sent for you ; to show you how you can aid me."

Chapter III. Ellen Accepts The Role Of Spy

Like other men and other bachelors, Dr. Millard had his ideas of woman. These were very definite and largely erroneous. He had found men, on the whole, weak ; he had found women no less so — but then, as to women, he admitted that his dealings, in his role of specialist, had been with such as were confessedly feeble as to nerves and brain, and he was willing to believe that they who had come under his observation were exceptional. Notwithstanding the general incompetency of masculine humanity, he had to acknowledge that great things had been accomplished by men, and observation had shown him that these doers of great things, feeble in them selves, depended in an extraordinary degree on women ; loving them, looking up to them, strong in their defence, often helpless without them, not sel dom, under their influence, greatly capable.

Hence he had come to believe that the source of the great moral forces which move the world was woman. Regarding himself with the usual complacency which accompanies introspection, he felt that there were men who could effect much without women ; but as to the great mass of mankind, he believed that the man without the woman was deprived of the essential part of his being. The man of narrow mind, or of scant experience, which is nearly the same thing, sneers at intuition. The physician who can do the same must be of an especially hidebound variety. Such a one has mistaken his vocation, and had better take to poetry, an art in which lively sensibility is less demanded than cunning to hide the feeble product of barren or confused fancy beneath tangled verbiage of vague meaning or of no meaning.

Dr. Millard, being in many respects a wise man, doubted much that he saw, and believed in much that he felt. The aid that he needed could only be rendered by one with the higher faculties possessed by woman ; hence his call upon the woman at his side in the hour of his need. If his personal intercourse with Ellen Clay, since first he had resolved to protect her, had been slight, his knowledge of her was not scanty. Immersed in his profession, he had not chosen either to cumber himself with the charge of a being for whom he was doing far more than any reasonable sentiment required, nor to permit his interest to be absorbed by one who would, in all probability, disappoint any hopes which might be awakened by such inter est. He had, without expectation of reward, or care for appreciation, given to the girl such advan tages as are granted to but few, and had been content to hear that they who had nearer charge of her life nourished high hopes in regard to her.

As for him, he had been willing to wait and see. But when, strangely enough, the time came when there were essential to him discretion and tact of the highest order, as well as professional knowledge, he bethought him of the waif he had so long befriended, and, making now closer inquiries than ever before, had determined to call upon Ellen Clay. His intuitions were quick, and, in the brief conver sation which has been reported, he saw, or believed he saw, evidences of the traits needed in the work designed for the instrument he had chosen. Had he been a pious man, he would have regarded her existence as providential ; had he been supersti tious, he would have seen the hand of fate; had he possessed that prevision which he believed he in some degree possessed, he would have turned his horse's head and taken the girl from whence she came, nor would the words he now spoke have passed his lips.

" I suppose," he said, " that Mrs. Marvin told you as much as I told her concerning what is before you." " She informed me that you had grave work for me to do, but left me to gather the particulars from you." " It is grave. It will require courage, discretion, dissimulation." " And the end ? " she asked. "Justifies the means. You will be convinced of this, or will decline the office. Do you know this man Mulgrave ? He is a physician, not without reputation in a certain line." "I have never heard of him." " I hope he has never heard of you, nor is it likely. I should not wish him to think that a trick is being played on him." " There is such a trick?" she asked, doubtfully. "He would call it so. Yet not much of a trick. I think it best that he be not aware of your pro fessional attainments, and have merely described you as a trained nurse, a more modest grade than your own."