The wronged daughter, or, A wife's intrigue

Front matter

"THUNDER. AND MARS'' HE EXCLAIMED.

General Publishing Company, 280, Strand,

S. DAVIS & CO.,

Chapter I

It was thirty years ago. The Fifth Avenue was "nowhere," and nobody lived there. Brown-stone fronts or marble veneering did not act as a show card of upper- tendom. Many of our first families lived in the old-fashioned, Knickerbocker, red-brick dwellings, which are giving way, or have given way, to the palacelike stores of our merchant-kings, who are elbowing all dwellers up-'own, up-r~wn, all the time.

In one of that kind of red-brick houses — G large one, three-storied, and not confined to " twenty -five feet front and eighty back " — livei one of the most important characters in mf etory. Lived! He did not rxerely exist, at some people do, now-a-days. For Mr MartiB Grossbeak was wealthy, dressed well, fed well and drank well. Sometimes, indeed, he took so much wine after dinner, that his head became lighter than his heels, and bis heels lighter than they ought to be, so that he could

4 THE TGED DAUGHTER ; OK,

scarcely keep them to the floor until they carried him to a couch where he could dream himself sober. But never away from home did he commit such a folly; never did he look through a tumbler in the foreground of a bar— never! He was too dignified for that.

He had begun life as a cabin-boy at sea j risen by his own exertions and merit to the position of a captain ; being saving and lucky, lie had become owner ; from that he had turned his back upon the ocean, and, as a merchant, made an immense fortune, the interest of which was more than he required in the support of his elegant establishment in Bleecker Street.

He was now near sixty years of age. But he did not look so old by twenty years. His hair was hardly grey ; his complexion was florid j not a wrinkle could be seen upon his ample brow. His manner was stern and peremptory, just as it had been when he trod upon the quarter-deck of his own ship. His servants had to obey all orders, and promptly too, or else they went their way out of his house in a hurry. Yet under ail this stern and often rough exterior, there was a thick layer of genuine humanity— of real good-heartedness. But he hated to have any one know it. He would drive a beggar from the door, empty-handed, if the world wa3 looking on ; but would follow the same beggar to his hovel, if he had one, to give him food or clothe him.

After he had grown well eik ugh off to think he could afford it, he had married. His wife, at best a sickly creature, lived only long enough to present him with a daughter— dying while

A wife's intrigue. S

her baby was but a day or two old. A nurse was provided for the wee mite of life — a good, honest Irish woman, who had just lost her husband and an infant in the "eholera-time."

While he was in business, Mr Grossbeak did not pay much attention to his child, though she grew up strong-, healthy and very beautiful, under the fostering care of Biddy Megann, her nurse. He merely furnished the money for her dresses and toys, and, as she grew old enough, employed a teacher to learn her the first branches of her education.

When he retired from business, at last, as wealthy as he wished to be, Lizzie — he named her after her mother — was sixteen years of age, and, for a motherless girl, very well bred ; for she had been, for the last four years, under the care of a most excellent and lady-like governess, Mrs Laforce — a widow, who, from affluent circumstances, had been reduced to her present position.

And now that he had nothing else to do, Mr Martin Grossbeak began to love his daughter, to doat upon her beauty, to see her talent, and to think all the world could not produce her equal.

In this opinion he was firmly backed by Biddy Megann, her old nurse, who had been retained ever since she held poor little Lizzie at her breast.

Lizzie, we have said, was pretty. She had a wealth of glossy brown curling hair — very large blue eyes, shaded by lashes darker than her hair, and very soft and long. Her features ■were arch and expressive ; her colour very fine ;

'6 THE W ED DAUGHTEK; OR,

her mouth faultless, inside and out ; her figure very suberb for one of her age. She could have passed for eighteen or twenty, though so much younger.

It was thirty years ago. Mr Grossbeak, who was a very early riser, had just sat down in his library, to have a quiet smoke before breakfast, when one of bis men-servants, an Englishman, came rushing into the room, with a. basket in his hands, exclaiming, " My heyes, master ! what a go ! My heyes, master ! what a go ! "

" What is the matter, John ? What have you there ? " asked Mr Grossbeak, almost dropping his pipe in surprise at John's excited manner.

" A basket, sir, that I found when I hopened the front door, just now! " replied John.

•' A basket at my front door, John ? What is in it?" asked Mr Grossbeak, rather nervously for him, laying his pipe down upon the table.

"Two hinfants, sir— two tiny hinfants, a •sleepin' like a pair of hangels, sir."

Mr Grossbeak's red face turned almost white as he rose and looked at the contents of the basket.

"Babies left at my door !" he muttered in a voice like low thunder. " John, you scoundrel! what did you bring 'em in here for? Why didn't you send for a watchman and have them carried to the poor-house ? "

Before poor John could utter a word in self- -defence, Lizzie Crossbeak came in to give her father his daily kiss.

"What is the matter, father, dear?" she asked, noting his angry look and manner.

"Matter? Matter? Look in that basket, and see what has been left at my door."

" O, the little dears! How sweet! how beautiful ! " cried the warm-hearted girl.

"Take the brats away, John — take 'em away ! " cried Mr Grossbeak, in utter disgust.

" Father — dear father ! let Lizzie say a word — wont you?"

" Yes, yes ! What do you want, pet ? " said the old gentleman, a little mollified,

" Don't be in such haste with these little waif*. I was a helpless baby once, father."

"Se you was, darlint, and it was Biddy Megann — and that's meself— took care of ye," cried a fourth voice upon our little stase.

" Look in the basket, Biddy," said Lizzie.

"The howlyVargin bless us ! " cried Biddy, as she did so. " They look as if they'd just dropped down from up above. Sure, they're wakir." up !"

■' You will not send them upon the world's charity — will you, my dear, good father ? "

And Lizzie kissed her father's stern brow.

" Poor things — they're hungry ! " said Biddy, taking one up on each of her great fat arms, " And wonder upon wonders — they're twins by size, but the eyes of one is blue as the sky in June— and the other has black eyes ! "

" Take 'eru down into the kitchen and give 'em something to eat, and I'll see what is best to do with them afterward ! " said Mr Grossbeak, as he gently pushed Lizzie down into a chair by his side.

" Let me see what is on this paper in the basket," said Lizzie, taking up a small note which, though neatly folded, bore no superscription. And she reads its contents aloud :

" Mr Grossbeak, you are rich ! The care of these poor babes will not impoverish you. They are the children of misfortune — but not of sin ! The unhtuii.. mother who entrusts them to your care was lawfully married. Now, they are fatherless, and she is helpless. Take care of them ; and one who daily and nightly will pray, on her bended knees, for God to bless you, will some day come to claim them, if she lives. They have been christened in church ; the boy is

named Norman G ; the girl, Eliza G .

Their full names I cannot give just now. Do not turn them away. A mother's half-broken heart pleads for them. " Ellen G."

The voice of Lizzie was broken by sobs before she got through, and tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"Father, you will not turn them away, will you ? " she sobbed.

''No, child, no. Go with Biddy and see them cared for. I suppose a wet-nurse will have to he hired."

" Yes, dear father." And Lizzie kissed Mr Grossbeak again and again ; and taking up the basket, she fol'owed Biddy out of the room.

" Poor thinus! poor things ! " said Mr Grossbeak to himself, now that he was alone. " God help the poor mother whose misery has forced her to part with her babes. She must know me, or she would not trust in me so. Well, she shall not be disappointed. They shall be taken care of — as kindly as if t: — were of my own blood."

Chapter II

Quite as rich, but a thousand times more grasping, was one Levi Martin, a merchant, who traded in the same block on South-street with Grossbeak, before the retirement of the latter. Rich as he was, Mr Martin had no idea of retiring, so long as he could add to his immense capital. He had ships on almost every sea, and agents in all trading countries.

His dwelling was not in Bleecker- street. He had not yet got so far up town. In a little twostorey brick -house, on Pearl-street, plainly furnished, much to the annoyance of his young second wife, who had married his wealth and not his person, he lived comfortably, but far from luxuriously.

By his first wife, he had two children. One, Edgar, the son, was now away at sea, on an East India voyage ; already the first officer of a ship, though but eighteen years of age ; not because his father was owner, but because he was a thorough sailor.

The daughter was two years older, and not at home. Within less than a month after her father brought homehis youngbride— that bride, artful, venomous, too, as a reptile — had made home so unhappy to the poor girl, that she fled away, no one knew whither.

The father grieved much at first ; but when his wife hinted that alow and ud worthy attach/- ment had caused the sudden disappearance of his child, he believed her ; and lie closed his heart to sorrow, and went back to his ledgers again, and in business sought to bury every care.

How he had come to leave his business long enough to woo and win a second wife, was a mystery to those who best knew him. Not to those who knew her, or a designing, unscrupulous woman whom she called mother.

The truth was, he had no wooing to do at all. Mrs Desha, the mother of his wife, did all of that part of the business. She got an introduction to Mr Martin, he hardly knew how, or who it was that introduced her ; but she was introduced as a wealthy widow from the Westand, after the introduction, she called frequently, very frequently, upon him, to ask how she had better invest certain funds, or with some other plausible excuse. And she always brought her daughter Minna, with her ; and Minna, assisted by paints and pomades, was quite a fine-looking girl. And, then, her mother said she was such a steady, discreet girl, so unlike other young folks, that, almost insensibly, Mr Martin began to notice her. And, when, at last, after many manoeuvres, Mrs Desha actually told the old merchant that Minna had been so foolish as to fall in love with him, the fool believed it, and within a week after he was married to her ; for Mrs Desha believed in " striking while the iron was hot; " especially in shackling her daughter to the hand and wealth of Mr Martin.

One year after his marriage, and eleven ■months, after the disappearance of his daughter,

A WIFE'S INTRIG^™. 11

it was announced to Mr Martin that he was the father of a fine boy. Mrs Martin, after a very brief illness, made her appearance, as usual, at his breakfast table, and on every occasion had the infant presented to his view. The " very image of his father," she declared it to be.

As it had dark hazel eyes (and his were blue); as it began to show red hair, and his in youth had been a dark brown, the colour now of the wig which she had made him buy, it was hard to see how he was imaged in its little, pug-nosed squab face ; but she said so ; and she ought toknow.

About a month or six weeks after the birth, or appearance of the infant just alluded to, Mr Martin received information that the " Heliotrope," the ship in which his son had sailed' as first officer, was signaled from Sandy Hook. It was early in the day when he received the news; and as tugboats were not then so generally used as now, it was night before she wasreported " up," and at anchor off the docks. A six months' healthy voyage had enabled her to pass quarantine without detention.

Edgar Martin had been absent nearly two years ; and when he entered his father's counting-room to report the ship in, the old gentleman turned away from his ledger, and looked with a glance of pride upon the fine, manly form which stood before him — on the bronzed, but comely face of hia son.

"Well, father, what is the news at home? How is sister ? " asked the young man, as soon as he had made his report.

The old gentleman turned ghastly whit*'

when the question reacted his ears. At last he stammered :

" I've been married since you left home, Edgar ! "

"Ah, the.. ^ dihall have a new mother to greet when 1 go home," said the young man, cheerfully. " How does sister like her ? "

"Your sister is away from home !" he said.

" Where is she ? " asked Edgar.

" I do not know ! " said the old man, with hesitation. "She got. mad with Minna and left. I've heard since that she married some low nobody."

"Who is Minna?" asked the young man, sternly.

" My new wife. Where are you going, Edgar?"

" To look after my sister, sir," said the son, in a freezing tone. And, turning on his heel, he left the counting-room, without uttering another word.

Chapter III

Mr Grossbbak was glad that he had not had the two little infants sent to the poor-house, when his daughter met him with a smiling face at the breakfast (able, and told him that the two babes had been fed plentifully on 6ome warm milk.

And he was yet happier when, just before dinner, his daughter had them brought up to him in his library, which was his favourite sitting-room. They looked so cozy and nice in their new Burse's arms ; they had been washed a wife's intric 13

and dressed neatly, and really looked pretty — reminding him how his Lizzy looked when she was a child.

"Did you ever see purtier little eraturs, sir ? " said Biddy Megann, a9 she with the freedom of an old and valued servant, followed her young mistress into the room.

"They are handsome. How old do you think they are, Biddy ? " asked Mr Grossbeak.

" Faith, sir, 'twould bo hard to say so near as a day or a week ; but they can't be far from a month or six weeks, poor things."

'' Strange ! twins, as they must be, that one should have black and the other blue eyes ? " said he, musingly.

" Had we not better save the note which came with them ? " asked Lizzie. " It may serve at some future day to identify the poor mother who has been forced to part with them."

" Certainly. It is already put away in my iron chest," said Mr Grossbeak.

" Here are two other articles which I found in the basket," continued Lizzie, holding up a handsome diamond ring, and a brooch with an onal in the centre, and a circlet of rubies around it.

Mr Grossbeak took the articles of jewellery, and examined them closely. The name "Ellen" wa9 engraved on the inside of each.

" This is a strange mystery," said Mr Grossbeak. " I would give a great deal to fathom it. I wish the mother had come to me openly with the babes ; she and they should have had protection and kindness without the misery of • separation."

"You are a good, dear father," said Lizzie; and winding her arms about hia neck, she seated herself on his lap, as she often did.

"We wir ■; these jewels away with the note," said he. "They may yet serve to trace the poor mother. She must have been in good circumstances at some time, to have worn such costly jewels."

" Yes. The wording of her note and the delicate handwriting, both bespeak her to be of more than ordinary cultivation," said Lizzie.

" Well, my good child, you must fill her place for the poor babes," said Mr Grossbeak.

Chapter IV

"There, take the brat away— I am sick of the sight of it, Ellen ; and then go around to the circulating library in Franklin-square, and get me the second volume of this novel."

These words were uttered by Mrs Martin, nSe Desha, and spoken to a slouchy-looking •errant-girl, who held in her arms the " image o< its father," which we have alluded to.

The servant took " the brat " away ; and Mrs Martin arose, and, going to the front window, looked out upon the street. <

" What a nice young man ! Dear me, he i» positively handsome ! " she said to herself as a tall and fine-looking person crossed the street in front of the house. " Mercy ! he is coming here, and I am in a calico morning-gown ! " she added, as she saw him open the front gate and enter the yard with hurried steps.

She started to leave the room, intending to

.iress herself in better style before being seen by the good-looking stranger.

But she had not time ; for, with what seemed to her to be a strange familiarity, he had entered the house without knocking, and now confronted her as she was about leaving the parlour-

" Do I address Mrs Martin ? " he asked.

" I am Mrs Martin," she said.

"Be pleased to 6it down, madam," he continued; ''I have a few questions to ask you."

The lady drew bacK and took a seat, rather haughtily pointing him to another.

" Before saying more, I may as well introduce myself. My name is Edgar Martin. "

"Ah — my husband's son ! You are very welcome home from sea," said the lady.

" My first question is, What made my sister leave this house ? " he continued.

" A question which only herself can answer," saW Mrs Martin, colouring in spite of her attempt to retain her self-possession.

"As she is not here, I must learn what I can of you, madam," he continued. "Did she have any quarrel with you before she left ? "

"I deny your right, sir, to question me," said Mrs Martiu, almost angrily. " If you are not impertinent, I will respect you as my husband's son. If you are — "

She hesitated.

" Well, madam, finish what you intended t< say."

" I intended to say, that if you cannot treat me with the respect which ie due my station, if not to me as a lady, the same door through which your sister passed out into the world is open for you."

" Woman — I cannot call you lady — will you tell rue where my sister can be found ? "

" No, sir. If I knew, I would not. And you will oblige me by considering this interview at an end ; '" u do not retire. I will. And I will acqumm your father with the brutal insults you have heaped upon me. It is well for him that he has another son upon whom he can lavish his affection."

" Another son ? " said Edgar, looking at her with wonder.

" Yes, sir, another son," said the lady. And rising, she rung a bell.

The same slouchy-looking girl appeared.

" Ellen," said Mrs Martin, " bring my baby here ; this gentleman wants to see his little brother."

The girl disappeared ; and Edgar Martin, uttering a most unequivocal and emphatic oath, turned and left the house without waiting to see his " little brother."

Chapter V

Mr Grossbeak was always in a better humour after dinner than before it. We said, when we first described him, that there was a thick strata of goodness beneath his rough exterior. He had just finished dinner one day, not very long after the advent of the twins, when John, hit cockney servant, entered his room and 'aid:

"There is a gentleman below, sir, that wishes* to see you. He said 1 name was Martin.' Shall I show 'im hup, sir :

" Yes, John."

The servant bowed and disappeared.

" I wonder which Martin it is ? " soliloquised the old gentleman.

His soliloquy was cut short by the entrance of a person too young and too good-looking to be " old Levi Martin "

This person bowed very politely, and took the seat to which Mr Grossbeak pointed.

" You do not seem to remember me, Mr Grossbeak," said Mr Martin.

"Your face seems to run in my mind," said" Mr Grossbeak. " But I can't locate you."

" My name is Edgar Martin, sir. I used tosee you when you did business in South-street."

" What, little Edgar— my young sailor-boy, whom I used to like because he had rather rough it on salt water than be a sneak in his* father's counting-room."

"The same little Edgar, sir— only somewhat grown up," said the other, laughing. " I came in as master of the 'Heliotrope,' thistime, sir."

"You look like one, my boy— you do, indeed. I'm glad to see you. And so you cam© in master this time," said Mr Grossbeak: and the old gentleman resumed his pipe, ready for a cozy chat, which he liked above all things.

"I came my last voyage as master," said Martin. " Our captain took the fever at Calcutta, and died ; and I brought the ship home without losing a. spar, in twenty days' time less than the quickest passage before on record! "

"Well, I congratulate you, my boy. What does your fathe- "■- to it ? "

"I have haa uui, very few words with him since my return, sir."

'•Why? Is there anything in the wind between you and him ? Have you been courting a poor girl, or committing any other such unpardonable sin ? "

"No, sir; I have done no courting yet, although he has set the example ; for he has married during my absrnce."

" Why, boy, your father must be mad. He is older than 1 am ! "

"Yes, sir, several years, I should judge. And his new wife appears to be younger than I am. I had a very brief interview with her. and she wanted to show me a little brother. But I didn't wait to see him! "

'Well — well! Wonders will never cease. But he is your father, still. You have not cut adrift from him because of his folly ? "

" No, sir. Not for that. But this Jezebel has driven my poor, gentle sister from his house, her rightful home, and now — God only knows where she is ! I fear that in her despair she has thrown her life away."

And Edgar could hardly restrain his tears while he spok« /

'/Poor boy — poor boy!" said Mr Grosstoeak. "On my soul, I am sorry for you. If there is anything on earth I can do for you, I will do it cheerfully ! "

"By the looks of this woman I should think,

A WIFE'S INTRiuuE. 1S>

sir, that she worked her cards to suit him. She is young, and can be saving now. leaving off extravagance until his death will give her a full sweep ! "

"Ah! so much the worse. Just think if there is anything I can do for you. If your father turns the cold shoulder on you, I'll be a father to you myself 1 I'm getting to be quite a family man, at any rate."

Then Mr Gros3beak told him all about the basket and its contents, and what he had decided to do.

' ' It only proves the nobleness of your heart, sir ! " said Edgar.

" Tush ! It wa9 only doing right — no more f But keep it to yourself, my boy — keep it to yourself! I don't care about the whole world knowing of my foibles ! "

" I will not speak of it, sir. But I will now speak of my business here. I cannot and will not again sail in the employment of my father. You have a ship, the 'Prometheus,' lying idle ! "

"Yes — I intended to sell her."

' ' I would like to put her in trade, and have the command of her, sir ! "

"You shall have it, my boy, and funds to fit her out, and find her with, on the start."

" Thank you, sir — I will try and make her pay you."

" You have made me quite happy, my boy f I was afraid that I could do nothing for you in your great trouble ! And let us hope that your dear sister will yet turn up safe and sound."

" Alas ! sir, I fear not ! She was a gentle, fragile creature, and ill fitted to stand the rough weather of the outside world ! "

'^Father; dear father !" cried Lizzie, bounding in— "I've lc.-.:.-,-,.;. d such a beautiful piece of music to-day, that — "

She stopped suddenly, as she saw a strange gentleman conversing with her father.

"Excuse me, father,. I thought you were alone ! '' she now said, and turned to retire.

" Hold on, my pet. This gentleman is an old friend of mine. It is Edgar Martin— little Edgar I used to call him. Edgar," he continued, as she returned, " this is my daughter Lizzie."

Edgar rose and bowed.

"Can't you play the piece of musk?" asked tiie fond father.

" Yes ; if you will go to the parlour."

"To be sure we will. Edgar, you'll spend the rest of the evening with us."

Edgar looked at Lizzie, and he did not wish to make any excuse.

Chapter VI

Edgar Martin had only just left the house of his father, when the mother of Mrs Martin made her appearance there.

"What is the matter, my dear?" she asked of Minna.

Minna, half sobbing in anger, told her of her visitor and his language. Also, what she said to him.

" He did not wait to see his little brother ? " eaid the widow, with a sneer.

A WIFE'S INTRIGo... 21

" No ; he went away, slamming the door behind him as if he would tear the house down, and swearing like a Turk."

"It is just as well. He must have better eye-sight than his father, and the less he sees of the brat the bettor for you and the chances. And if you tell the old man a big story, and wash it well into him with sobs and tears, you'll make him discard the fellow, and there'll be an end of qis chances at the old man's fortune! "

"Never fear but I'll tell him a story big enough ! " said the young wife. " And I'll get him to make his will just as soon as I can ! "

' ' That's right, Minna. The sooner the better. I'd like to have him remember me in it. But I'm afraid he will not, because I can't pay him back the few thousands I have borrowed from him !"

"Never mind, mother. You shall never want while I have the purse-strings. Have you heard anything more about his girl ? "

" Yes ; she has left the country — gone abroad as a travelling companion to an invalid lady."

" Good. I hope that she will never return ! "

"Have you any spare cash, Minna? My board-bill is due to-day."

"There's a fifty-dollar bill, mother. I picked the old gent's pocket again last night. He had a pretty good walletful, and I hope he'll not miss it. Js it enough ? "