Bright Arrows

 

Eden was sitting in the library of the old house where she had lived all her life. She was going over some papers in the big library desk. Her father had asked her to give special attention to them as soon as she would get home from his funeral service and be alone.

She had eaten quietly and conscientiously of the delicious supper that the devoted sorrowing servants had lovingly prepared for her. She had tried to keep a cheerful face during their ministrations and then had told them that she wouldn't need them anymore tonight and they must go to their beds and rest, for they had had a hard day. They had blessed her for her thoughtfulness and gone off to finish the few remaining household duties. Then they went silently to their rooms.

At least they had seemed to go, though they had not all gone to sleep. One of them did not even go to her room but was still alert for Eden's movements. The old nurse, Janet, who had been a part of the household ménage ever since Eden was born, did not even pretend to retire. She merely sat down in the servants' dining room and waited with a listening ear for her young lady. Her sharp bright eyes were hiding quick tears that she had not dared to shed before the others, and her kindly old lips that carried and would cherish to the end a Scotch accent from the old country were quivering with pain for the young girl left so alone in the world that had always been so satisfyingly filled with the presence of a tender father. Tabor, too, was sitting in the upper hall within hearing. So Eden was not really alone.

But Eden, having waited for this moment ever since her father had breathed his last on earth, thought she was alone now. She drew a sigh of relief and went over to the desk, taking out the small key that hung on a slender chain concealed about her neck.

It seemed almost as if her father had a rendezvous with her. She knew he had planned it during those last few days of his illness, after his accident, when he knew that his hours were numbered. It was the thought of this last farewell message from her father that had kept her up during the hard hours after he was gone. It was as if she were under orders and had not time to mourn for him yet, because he had left her something to do. He had said it would be something that would make it easier for her to go on.

Eden was very young to have to meet a crisis like this: the shock of an accident that resulted in the death of her only near and dear one, from whom she had almost never been separated. For she could scarcely remember her mother. Her father had been both mother and father to her. With old Janet to minister to her bodily needs, Eden had lived a happy, carefree life.

And so she sat alone, with old Janet out beyond hall and pantry and kitchen, on sorrowful, unsuspected guard.

Eden fitted the small key into the lock of the drawer to which her father had often directed her attention, turned it, and opened the drawer. Catching her breath a little, as one who understands a momentous thing is about to happen, she looked within.

And there, right on the top, was a folded paper bearing her name, in her father's beloved hand. For an instant it almost seemed as if she were looking upon that dear dead countenance that they had just laid to rest in the old cemetery. And then she remembered what he had said to her about this moment, and how when she unlocked that drawer she would find his last words to say good-bye and comfort her.

She closed her eyes for a brief instant and then put out her hand for the paper and drew it toward her, handling it as one touches a very precious treasure.

Softly, carefully, she unfolded it. It was not long but very clearly written, somewhat like the letters he had written her during his few brief business absences from home, but her eyes lit with pleasure as she recognized the old sweet greeting "Dear little lass." That had always been his dearest way of addressing her, even since she had grown into lovely girlhood.

She held the paper closer and settled back to draw comfort from her father's last words. There was an earnest look of eagerness upon her young face.

It was just at that moment that the door opened silently and someone came into the room. He stepped so inaudibly that at first she did not sense his entrance.

Then suddenly with an inner sense she realized that she was not alone, and looking up she saw him.

He was a handsome young man with a very engaging smile, nicely camouflaging a flippant sneer on the lips that were not turned to gentleness.

She had not seen him for three years, but she had never liked him. As a child she had been afraid of his cruel jokes and petty torments. When her father found it out, he removed her from his vicinity, taking her far away with himself on a journey till the obnoxious boy and his still more unpleasant mother had moved to a far city, with other interests.

He was not exactly a relative, just the son by a former marriage of a woman who had married her uncle a few years before his death. But he called himself her cousin, though it was not a blood relationship.

And now suddenly he was standing in the doorway looking at her with that gloating glitter in his eyes, masked by his old insinuating smile. How did he get in? The servants had locked up for the night. The night latch was on the door always. He had no key, and never had had one. Something cold and frightening clutched her heart.

For an instant they surveyed each other, and then the young man spoke:

"Eden! You lovely thing! You are more stunning looking than ever! I certainly am glad I came!"

Eden lifted her chin haughtily, and there was no answering smile on her young lips. She tried to summon all her self-possession and spoke in a voice of cool distance.

"Oh, you are Ellery Fane," she said.

"The same," said the young man, his hand on his heart and bowed low. "I am flattered that you remember me. And now that I am recognized, may I sit down? For I have something to tell you. I won't interrupt you long for I see you are going over important business papers. I'll be glad to help you if you think you are equal to doing them tonight after such a strenuous day as you must have had."

Eden suddenly remembered the dear letter she held in her hand, and with a quick motion she lowered the pages out of sight down in her lap. Then with swift, stealthy fingers, she folded the letter softly and slid it into the drawer, snapping the drawer shut and turning the key softly. Her experiences in the past with this slippery, would-be cousin had proved to her that nothing precious was to be trusted in his sight. Instinct had taught her this from her first knowledge of him when she was a mere child.

So, as he talked on with his insinuating voice tuned low, obviously on account of her recent sorrow, her fingers were swiftly at work extracting the little key and folding it close in her hand. Then she lifted her eyes haughtily to meet his insinuating gaze.
"Thank you, I do not need help," she said coldly. "I feel that your coming, especially so stealthily and at this time, is an intrusion. But since you are here, what is it you want? I am in no need of help at present, and certainly not from you, when I remember under what circumstances you left this house last, at my father's request."

"Oh, now Eden, you're surely not holding that against me. I was merely a boy then, and I did make a mistake or two in my accounts at the bank. Of course, I've learned better now, and I suppose I ought to be grateful to your father for being so severe with me. It taught me a much-needed lesson. I've forgiven him long ago, of course, and started out to be a real man, the kind of man he wanted me to be. I've been studying high finance and am really an expert now, and I felt it was not only my duty but my pleasure to come and offer you my advice and skill in settling your estate. Of course, you are inexperienced, my dear, and I have an idea there will be many things about business that will be most puzzling to you. I'll be glad to put my financial knowledge and abilities at your disposal. I have several letters with me that will show you I am all that I say in these lines and certainly will be greatly to your advantage to have my advice."

Eden's voice was still cool and quiet in spite of her mounting anger, and she looked him in the eye steadily.

"That will be entirely unnecessary," she said coldly. "Such matters have all been attended to satisfactorily, and I have no need for advice. My father arranged everything for me before he left me."

"Yes, of course, I understand he would," soothed the honeyed voice. "He was always kindness itself and thoughtful, most thoughtful, for the welfare of others. But, my dear, I had not been in his bank long, even when I was a mere lad, before I knew perfectly well how unworldly he was, and how almost criminally ignorant he was of the best ways of managing a fortune and making the most of what he had, you know. As I began my studies and went on to wider knowledge, I kept looking back to what I knew of your father's business matters, and I knew what advantages he was missing by some of his oddly fanatical ideas about right and wrong that were simply nonsensical. And so I thought that it was my duty to come and tell you what I had learned in the world of finance and offer to set matters right for you, so that you might become almost fabulously rich in your own right. It will merely mean straightening out a few matters and exchanging some of your father's foolish investments before it is too late."

Eden, white with anger, rose from her chair, the little key clutched tight in the palm of her hand, the other hand leaning hard on the edge of her father's desk, her eyes flashing indignation.

"That will be all I care to hear," she said freezingly. "You can go now. I certainly want no help from you
ever
,
in any way
!"

Eden in her excitement did not realize that her fingers had automatically touched the little switch on the edge of the desk by which her father had often called for the old butler to do some errand for him. But suddenly the bell responded quickly through the silent house, making the unwelcome guest start in surprise and look cautiously around. That bell was something he had not known about, as it had been installed after he had left that part of the country. But Eden was so coldly angry now that she paid little heed to the bell. Besides, she thought that the servants had all gone to their rooms and were probably asleep. And she was not really afraid of this would-be cousin, anyway, just furious at his insufferable impudence toward her wonderful father. She felt that she could handle this situation herself. She would let him know that he was not wanted.