Americans -- Europe -- Fiction; Cape Cod (Mass.) -- Fiction
“I will answer you,” she said. “I will answer you because, so far, I
have no fault to find with your behavior toward me. You and my--and my
aunt have been as reasonable as I, perhaps, should expect, everything
considered. Your bringing me here and providing for me was even kind,
I suppose. So I will answer your questions. My father and I were not
together a great deal. I attended a convent school in France and saw
Father only at intervals. I supposed him to possess an independent
income. It was only when he was--was unable to work,” with a quiver in
her voice, “that I learned how he lived. He had been obliged to depend
upon his music, upon his violin playing, to earn money enough to keep us
both alive. Then he told me of--of his life in America and how my mother
and he had been--been cheated and defrauded by those who--who--Oh, DON'T
ask me any more! Don't!”
“I must ask you. I must ask you to tell me this: How was he defrauded,
as you call it?”
“I have told you, already. My mother's fortune--”
“But your mother had no fortune.”
The anticipated scene was imminent. She sprang to her feet, but being
too weak to stand, sank back again. Hephzy looked appealingly at me.
“Hosy,” she cautioned; “Oh, Hosy, be careful! Think how sick she has
been.”
“I am thinking, Hephzy. I mean to be careful. But what I said is the
truth, and you know it.”
Hephzy would have replied, but Little Frank motioned her to be silent.
“Hush!” she commanded. “Mr. Knowles, what do you mean? My mother had
money, a great deal of money. I don't know the exact sum, but my father
said--You know it! You MUST know it. It was in my grandfather's care
and--”
“Your grandfather had no money. He--well, he lost every dollar he had.
He died as poor as a church rat.”
Another interval of silence, during which I endured a piercing scrutiny
from the dark eyes. Then Miss Morley's tone changed.
“Indeed!” she said, sarcastically. “You surprise me, Mr. Knowles. What
became of the money, may I ask? I understand that my grandfather was a
wealthy man.”
“He was fairly well-to-do at one time, but he lost his money and died
poor.”
“How did he lose it?”
The question was a plain one and demanded a plain and satisfying answer.
But how could I give that answer--then? Hephzy was shaking her head
violently. I stammered and faltered and looked guilty, I have no doubt.
“Well?” said Miss Morley.
“He--he lost it, that is sufficient. You must take my word for it.
Captain Cahoon died without a dollar of his own.”
“When did he LOSE his wealth?” with sarcastic emphasis.
“Years ago. About the time your parents left the United States. There,
there, Hephzy! I know. I'm doing my best.”
“Indeed! When did he die?”
“Long ago--more than ten years ago.”
“But my parents left America long before that. If my grandfather was
penniless how did he manage to live all those years? What supported
him?”
“Your aunt--Miss Cahoon here--had money in her own right.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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