Chapter XX: The Astounding Discovery

THE afternoon session was similar to the morning one. Mr. Washburn was continually appealed to for assistance in dates, etc., while Barnes Bailey went here and there at the bidding of the court.

Once, after the clerk had passed near them, his face became almost purple, as he noticed the distinguished looking stranger attracting the attention of Emily.

"Who is that man?" inquired Mr. Lawrence, in a low tone. "He looks like a villain."

"He is papa's clerk," was Emily's reply in the same tone, but not looking at him.

When the hour for adjournment came, the Committee seemed in excellent spirits. The Bishop, Mr. Washburn and Mr. Temple were standing together, when the former remarked,—

"Our success so far is very encouraging. I have great hopes that by this time to-morrow, we may have concluded the whole thing."

"I have never seen accounts kept with greater exactness," observed Mr. Temple, placing his hand familiarly on the Rector's shoulder.

"The struggle has not come yet," returned Mr. Washburn, shaking his head. "I have a vague idea of a large sum paid by me. For months I have been tortured with the recollection, which yet I cannot get hold of. It has been my prayer to-day that some one may bring it to mind."

In the evening, the Rector was repeating this conversation to his wife, when Emily came in and stood listening to them.

"Perhaps you mean, papa, the thousand dollars you invested for me."

He started forward, gazed searchingly in her face. "Did I ever invest a thousand dollars for you?" He spoke slowly as though trying to recall the circumstances. "When was it, dear?"

"I'll get my bank-book, and that will give you the exact date."

She ran to her chamber, and he sat holding his head with his hands.

"There, papa, it was in October, more than a year ago."

"Just the period that you were suffering, Henry."

"Thank God!" ejaculated the Rector, fervently. But after a pause, "This does not help me with the accounts. Still, it is an immense relief. That thousand dollars has caused me more suffering than you can dream of, Emily. The clue is caught at last."

The next morning, when Emily, accompanied by her parents and Marion, entered the rooms, she saw Mr. Lawrence conversing in an animated manner with Mr. Temple. Their faces looked so eager that she pointed them out to her mamma.

At that moment, Mr. Lawrence caught sight of them, and left Mr. Temple, who said at parting—

"I will arrange it, sir. I agree with you entirely."

The member from Michigan came toward them, and saluted them in a gay tone. He then with the words "May I?" moved a chair to Emily's side, and said to her—

"I wish our friend Judge Wilson could be here to-day. He would enjoy it."

"Do you then feel so hopeful as to the result? If papa is not to be vindicated so that no shadow of a stain can rest upon him, I would rather our friends were away."

"I am advanced a stage beyond hope, Miss Emily; I am positive."

He feasted his eyes on her radiant face.

"Oh, Mr. Lawrence!" she exclaimed. "You have removed such a weight from my heart."

"Have I? Then may I hope that some time, in the distant future, you will forgive me?"

"I was not aware that I had anything to forgive." Her voice was so low that only by bending nearer could he hear her.

He gazed at her downcast eyes, uttering the words, "Thank you," in an eager tone.

The meeting was now called to order. Mr. Lawrence kept his position between Emily and her mother, and during the rather monotonous proceedings of the forenoon, contrived to let the young lady know that her last words had made him very happy. He seemed to take immense delight in turning, at the least pretext, to gaze in her face, and watch the rosy hue deepen on her cheeks, while these lines of a well-known writer were floating through his mind,—

"Her air had a meaning, her movements a grace;
You turned from the fairest to gaze on her face."

"Why!" exclaimed Emily, naively, when the movement to adjourn was made. "I had no idea it was so late."

Then meeting her friend's eyes kindling with pleasure, she turned abruptly away.

"We shall expect you at dinner," observed Mr. Hall, addressing Mr. Lawrence.

"I accept with pleasure, sir. I have a little business which will detain me a short time, but I will be there at the hour."

Emily and her sister resolved to take a short walk as they had done the previous day.

On their return to Mr. Hall's house, their ring at the door-bell was not immediately answered. And supposing the servants to be engaged with dinner, they ran down the steps again, to the basement entrance. Here they found a rag and junk man trading with the cook.

"Yer ought not to come to gentlemen's houses at such an inconvenient time," she said in a cross tone. "I can't leave my roast to be trading with ye. No, I paint a bag to put the rags in. Sure, ye ought to find your own bags."

"I'll find one," answered the good-humored man.

So saying, he poured from a large hemp bag a quantity of waste paper into a basket, and proceeded to fill the same bag with rags to weigh them.

Scarcely knowing why she did so, Emily waited a moment, saying in a gay tone to the cook,—

"I hope you'll make a good bargain."

Suddenly her eye caught one of the papers in the basket. It was a long page written over, and had been crushed in the hand. Her heart almost stopped beating as she seized the paper, glanced over it, recognized instantly her father's handwriting, and more than suspected it to be a page from his account-book. Suppressing a scream, she asked the ragman,—

"Have you more of these? I would like them, and will pay you double what the paper is worth."

She eagerly turned over the rubbish in the basket, and succeeded in finding one other sheet.

"Where did you get these?" handing him a dime.

He laughed. "That's more than I can tell, Miss."

"Do you ever go to gentlemen's offices?"

"Yes, Miss, I get lots of papers at lawyer's offices, stores, and such like."

With a face blanched with emotion, Emily ran up stairs to find her sister, and impart the joyful news. The door-bell rang as she was going through the upper hall, and supposing it to be her parents, she opened it, and admitted Mr. Lawrence.

"Oh!" she cried, holding out the clutched pages. "My father is saved! My father is saved!"

Tears filled her eyes, as exhausted with the depth of her joy, she sank on the stairs and watched the lawyer, as his keen eyes possessed themselves of the contents of the sheets.

"Wonderful! Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "It is a direct answer to the prayers of your good father."

Then ascertaining that the back parlor was unoccupied, he took her hand and drew her to a chair. She was so much agitated, he feared she would faint.

"Shall I ring for some water?" he asked tenderly.

"No, sir. Where is papa? I must tell him."

"When you are better, I want to ask you a favor. There, the color is coming back. I don't think you'll faint now."

"I am better," she said, removing her hat, which he instantly took from her hand, "and I'm so very happy. Dear, dear papa."

He sat down near her, and in a few rapid words told her he was not unprepared for this discovery. He then made a statement to her as to his plan for the afternoon session, and begged her to leave the precious sheets in his care, and to say nothing of them till night.

When the dinner-bell rang, Mr. and Mrs. Washburn came from the library, which was in the second story, and were somewhat surprised to see that their daughter had not yet removed her sack.

"You look tired," said her mother. "You had better remain quietly at home this afternoon."

"Oh, mamma, not for the world!"

Mr. Washburn sighed. "The battle is only commenced," he said. "God alone knows what will be the result."

"I'm sure," added Marion, "that Emily looks as though she knew what would be the end. See how triumphantly she smiles."

"I can see that she has faith in God's promise to answer the prayers of His children," remarked Mr. Lawrence, seriously. "I have been taught that we may ask for any favors that we need, however trifling they may seem. For instance, the burden of your father's prayers has been that God would throw light upon the obscurity that surrounds him. Ought we not to expect He will do it, and do it to-day?"

"Certainly his power is equal to that," replied Mrs. Washburn.

"I know He will," exclaimed Emily, tears gushing to her eyes.

On their way back to the rooms, Mr. Lawrence walked with Emily and her sister. They had not gone far from the house when they met Dr. Rand, who said he had been to the rooms hoping to meet them, as he wished to obtain a pass for the afternoon session.

Marion assured him there would be no objection made if he went with them, but she added, "I fear you will find it very dull."

They went on together a little in advance.

Emily explained to her companion, how much the family were indebted to the young physician, who was said to be very skilful.

"He looks like a man of power. I can see that he admires your sister. I hope she will reciprocate his affection."

Emily expressed her astonishment that he could judge so much by one glance.

"I am not surprised that you should consider me stupid," he urged without looking at her. "When I recall my conduct toward yourself, I confess I wonder at your kindness in saying you forgive me. Conceited fool that I was, to imagine that you were acquainted with my dearest hopes; that you even suspected whose image filled all my thoughts. But this is not a proper time nor place for the confession I wish to make, and yet as I must leave in the morning—"

"What time does the Bishop adjourn the meeting?" inquired Marion, suddenly stopping in her walk.

"I hope the trial will be at an end this afternoon," replied Mr. Lawrence, rather annoyed.

"Miss Emily, your mother has very kindly invited me to spend my last night at her house. Shall I accept her invitation?"

"We should all be happy to see you, sir."

"Thank you. I shall go. And, Miss Emily, I feel that I shall speak better, this afternoon, than I ever did before. There is an elixir called hope which is circulating through my veins, and renders me buoyant. I could do or dare anything, to-day. I shall be only too happy if I don't do something ridiculous."

"I don't recognize you at all as the grave, reticent Mr. Lawrence I met at U—," murmured Emily, with a smile.

"I'm glad of that. Let him go; I'm disgusted with him."

She laughed merrily at his comic air. "Here we are!" she added. "And there's papa just going in. Who is that man with a star on his coat?"

"The Sheriff who is to see that the orders of the Court are executed. Don't tremble, he understands his business."