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Title: Temptation on a Tower Author: J. D. Hennessey * A Project Gutenberg Australia eBook * eBook No.: 1201541h.html Language: English Date first posted: February 2012 Date most recently updated: February 2012 This eBook was produced by: Maurie Mulcahy Project Gutenberg Australia eBooks are created from printed editions which are in the public domain in Australia, unless a copyright notice is included. We do NOT keep any eBooks in compliance with a particular paper edition. Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing this file. This eBook is made available at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg Australia License which may be viewed online at http://gutenberg.net.au/licence.htmlGO TO Project Gutenberg Australia HOME PAGE
The condition on which Malcolm Stewart inherited Stewart Towers was, that
until marriage he should reside there for not less than three months in every
year; or to be more precise, that he should reside there during the three
summer months, from December to February inclusive, which, it will be seen
included Christmas Day. He was to reside in any portion of it, said the will,
except the Northern Tower rooms, which were to be reserved for the occupation
of two nieces of the legatee.
The strange old man had further decided in his will, that Malcolm Stewart
should marry one of these two ladies.
And unless by their own free choice they married other men the will bound
him to remain free to wed one or the other. On the day that he discontinued
residence, during this special three months, or married any other woman, there
passed from him Stewart Towers and the greater part of a large fortune.
For the first three months of Malcolm's enforced residence, the two maidens
had at the same time in company with an aunt, as chaperon, occupied the Tower
rooms.
This was exasperating to Malcolm, for his dislike of the two girls almost
amounted to hatred. When he met them in the grounds, he seldom looked at or
spoke to them. One of these two, by his father's will, he had to marry, and
both seemed to be waiting for him. His soul dwelt in a wilderness at the
thought of it, the knowledge that they lived in the Tower rooms of his romantic
residence made life lonely and uncongenial. It was no company for him to have
them there; nor could he, for fear of ridicule invite friends to stay with him,
and in his heart he almost cursed the girls, and the will, and Christmas
time.
He determined however, to hold his own, and live it out, and force﹃the
ladies of the Tower,﹄as the neighbourhood who knew about the affair, delighted
to call them, to tire of waiting and marry someone else.
Now it was strange that he should dislike them so, for they were young and
not uncomely. He had not known them in his father's life time, indeed had never
heard of them until the will was read to him under peculiar and somewhat
unfortunate circumstances; and they had never made themselves in any way
unpleasant to him, except that in obedience to their uncles stupid will, they
for three months in the year came to reside there.
It was no doubt a stupid will, an extraordinary will, a most unseemly and
aggravating will, but it was the will and Malcolm Stewart and Alice and
Winifred Stewart had to abide by it, or half a dozen claiments would have
stepped in to dispossess them of the property at once. This was the state of
affairs when there dawned the second Christmas day of this singular story.
The woman stood and watched the boat, as now and again it would disappear
for a full half minute as it sank in the hollow between two waves. It was the
long roll of the Pacific across thousands of miles of open water to the south
east which caused these great waves to break in thunder and foam upon the iron
bound coast of south-eastern Australia.
The scene which spread itself before Nurse Sampson (for thus was she known
among the people of the place) was singular and romantic, if not actually
beautiful. A tiny bay had been formed by a cleft in the rugged, rock bound
shore. Here, for centuries and more, the ocean had washed up yellow sand
between the two rock strewn shores, which, in turn, a fresh water stream washed
back again. The miniature bay was a mere cleft in the rocky coast, so narrow
that a strong-armed man might have thrown a stone from the pile of water-worn
rocks on the one side to the dwarfed cliffs upon the other. There were a few
cottages overlooking the sea in addition to Peter Sampson's, and on the city
side, looking down upon the lowly homes of the fishermen, was the residence of
the eccentric Donald Stewart.
But, as Catherine Sampson stood there dreamily watching her husband's boat,
and also a distant coasting schooner, and the smoke of a steamer still hull
down on the distant horizon, she saw other things. There were grey clouds above
the land and sea, and they set her thinking about the mother and the child. Of
the mother of whom she knew so little, of the child she had yet to learn about
and understand. She was a woman of active temperament and cheerful disposition,
but the grey of the morning seemed to have cast its sombre tints upon her
mind.
It was good, perhaps, that it was so, for it is only as we see life under
varied aspects that we truly understand it. Sunshine hides as well as reveals.
There are things which will never be seen except in a darkened landscape; never
be learned except under sombre skies. The stars which lie hid in the daytime
shine out in the night, and we want to look at life under all conditions to
know it truly. This morning the grey side of it was uppermost to Peter
Sampson's wife.
"Ah me!" ejaculated the woman at last, as a sigh escaped her lips, "the wee
mite will be a sight of trouble and responsibility to me. I wonder why the good
God allows bairns to be born into a world as doesn't want them."
"But he's come to stay," continued the good woman, bustling about her work
to make up for lost time, "and he'll need to be cared for. Besides," she said,
"to-morrow will be Christmas Day."
The tears sprang to the youngster's eyes for the blow was painful, and he
was unused to such punishment; but although he knew it not, he was the child of
pluck and culture, and he threw himself back in fighting attitude--Malcolm
against the school.
The crowd of youngsters cheered him and pushed in to separate him from the
bully, for all but the baser sort appreciate spirit and courage; but the latter
were too numerous by far, and the bully and his chums waylaid Malcolm later on
as he went home, and dragged him into the bush and beat him brutally.
He struck back as well as he was able; but they were five to one.
Nurse Sampson simply raged on his return with cut and swollen face.
"The wretched beasts of boys," she cried.
"There were five of them," said Malcolm, gravely, "all bigger than myself. I
did not cry very much, mother, and I hit them back."
He learned everything quickly. It was his nature to learn. He had to; it
came to him, both good and bad. The first he wished to know, the latter he
could not avoid; it forced itself upon him, for he had knowledge of good and
evil, as hath every child of genius. His schoolmaster took a great fancy to the
boy; he was "out of Nazareth," for the fisherman's cottage was evidently not
his natural home; and the thoughtful man of letters questioned with himself on
many occasions as to the pros and cons of Malcolm's origin. "It is strange," he
thought, "that this boy, named by his mysterious mother Malcolm Stewart, (for
he had obtained from Nurse Sampson a fragmentary account of his birth, etc.)
should be living in a fisherman's cottage under the shadow, as it were, of
Stewart Towers."
It has been said that Donald Stewart was the great man of the place. He was
supposed by the neighbours to be deeply interested in mines; but all agreed
that he was a rich man, for he kept servants and carriages; and when away for
months at a time, as was not infrequently the case, kept up Stewart Towers just
as though he had been living there.
He was a cultured, reserved man, and was generally understood to be a
widower without children, he had relatives in Scotland, and possibly in
Australia; but he talked little about himself to anyone. A few gentleman, at
rare intervals, were the only visitors known at the Towers. At which times the
sound of hilarious laughter, slightly suggestive of old Scotch whiskey, might
be heard.
Mrs. Mortimer, the housekeeper, who looked well after the appointments of
the mansion, was always to be found quietly supervising affairs, dressed in
black silk.
Mr. Stewart's confidential man acted both as bailiff and butler, and took a
general oversight of the men about the stables and grounds. He collected the
rents of the estate, and generally represented the Towers to the people of the
neighbourhood.
Malcolm was nearing his fourteenth birthday, when a noteworthy event altered
the whole aspect of his life. That was the meeting of Malcolm one morning with
the master of the Towers.
A long avenue of trees led from the entrance gate into the grounds, and one
hot day in summer, Donald Stewart was smoking as he paced up and down under the
shady trees, absorbed in thought. Suddenly he found himself confronted by a
boy. The two stood for a moment and looked at each other, for on the face of
the elder there was depicted the most complete surprise.
"Good heaven! my lad, who are you, and where have you come from?"
Malcolm lifted his cap respectfully, and explained that he was a foster son
of Peter and Sarah Sampson. He hoped that he had not offended Mr. Stewart, he
had a message for Mrs. Mortimer at the Towers.
Donald Stewart still stood looking at him. Then throwing away his cigar, and
pulling the old felt hat he wore down on his head, he caught Malcolm by the arm
and said: "Boy, you are strangely like some one I once knew, take me to where
you live."
With his face buried in his hands, the proud master of Stewart Towers
listened for fully half an hour to the story nurse Sampson had to tell him.
The woman loved the boy and at once scented a secret, which might prove to
the boy's advantage; she grew garralous as the incidents of the boy's birth
came back to her recollection; but the man listened to the very end without a
word.
Then he said simply: "The boy is mine, the lady was my wife, it is a most
remarkable story; you have been kind to the lad and I will recompense you. Call
him in."
When the boy came in the old man broke down utterly, and wept as he embraced
and kissed his son. "My God!" he ejaculated, "what a thing to do, and to think
that I never knew of it."
It became known in the neighbourhood that Donald Stewart had adopted Peter
Sampson's boy, and that he was henceforth to be known as Malcolm Stewart. He
was sent to the city university; then was taken by his father for a year or two
of travelling in the old land. It was no wonder that Donald Stewart was proud
of him, he had thought himself childless, and suddenly found a son; who was
endowed with his mother's beauty and wit, and more than his father's
cleverness.
But just when gratification was at its highest, and prospects brightest, and
Malcolm about to celebrate his twenty-first birthday, Donald Stewart died, and
left a will which before taking up the thread of the story needs a few words of
explanation.
Prior to the discovery of Malcolm, Donald Stewart had promised an only
brother when dying to make provision for two nieces.
Nellie and Winifred Stewart were at school in South Australia when their
father died, and their Uncle's first will was made immediately afterward, under
which they inherited the Towers and other property.
Malcolm's appearance on the scene, had resulted in a long codicil which
practically annulled the will, and by its singular conditions as explained in a
previous chapter, seemed very likely to bring those most concerned into serious
difficulty with each other.
The girls heard of the codicil to the will through their aunt Mrs.
Shrimpton, some time before Malcolm did, and not unnaturally, although anxious
to see and know more about their new found cousin, felt very much
disappointed.
The sudden death of Malcolm's father was a great blow to him, and as at the
time he was suffering from over study, the executors advised him to leave for a
trip to New Zealand immediately after the funeral.
When he returned he settled down with a college friend at the Towers, but,
through some carelessness on the part of the executors, he was not advised as
to the singular conditions under which he was to inherit the property.
Malcolm was of a studious disposition, fond of reading, and music, and
literature, and at the time referred to, was collaborating with his friend
Frank Robertson in the writing of a book.
Jonas Brown, the butler, looked well after matters in the household and
outside, and Mrs. Mortimer attended to their residential comforts and
wardrobes, so that with an occasional day off for fishing or other amusement,
Malcolm lived a very quiet life.
Nurse Sampson was not forgotten, but she preferred her own cottage home; or
her foster son would have brought her to live at the Towers. Malcolm's one
grief was that he could find no authentic trace of his mother. The attempts he
had made to obtain information about her from his father had been unfortunately
unsuccessful. Not that Donald Stewart had actually refused to tell Malcolm, but
the subject had been deferred, until death suddenly intervened, and it was too
late.
While matters were thus quietly proceeding at Stewart Towers, one afternoon,
while Malcolm and his friend Frank Robertson were out for a days fishing, Alice
and Winifred, in charge of their aunt Mrs. Shrimpton, put in a sudden and most
unexpected appearance.
They had come up from South Australia by steamer, and been delayed several
days, much to Mrs. Shrimpton's alarm, who knew all about the conditions of the
will, for the day was the 30th of November; only one day before they were
actually required to be in residence to fulfil its conditions.
Mrs. Shrimpton was tall, spare, and angular, with sharp cut features, and an
aggressive chin and nose. Her thin mouth bespoke determination and her grey
eyes resolution. She was dressed in a fashionable travelling gown, and as she
stepped out of the carriage and passed under the entrance portico she gave a
quick glance around, which might have intimated to a beholder that the Towers
would soon know of her arrival.
Closely following her were two intelligent bright faced girls also
fashionably dressed.
"It looks a jolly sort of place," whispered Alice, to her sister, "I wonder
whether Malcolm will be as nice as his residence?"
The ladies were at once shown into a large handsomely furnished reception
room, while the housemaid who opened the door, went to call "Mr. Brown the
butler."
"Mr. Stewart is not at home Madam," said the butler in answer to Mrs.
Shrimpton's inquiry.
"That's unfortunate," said the lady. "I presume, however, that the North
Tower rooms are ready for our occupation?"
"I beg your pardon madam--I don't understand you," stammered Brown.
"You have a housekeeper," said Mrs. Shrimpton, "you had better send her to
me, no doubt she knows about our coming. These young ladies are cousins of Mr.
Malcolm Stewart."
Mrs. Mortimer, on ordinary occasions, was a very amiable woman, but she was
now thoroughly bewildered; she knew nothing of any such arrangement as that
referred to by Mrs. Shrimpton.
She had not heard of any nieces of her late Master; she instinctively
resented the proposed residential arrangement; and suggested that the ladies
might leave their luggage in the carriage and await Mr. Malcolm's return.
But Mrs. Mortimer had not taken the exact measure of Mrs. Shrimpton. The
latter at once saw, as she thought, a deeply laid scheme to deprive her
sister's children of their claim upon their Uncle's property. The following day
was the first of December when, according to the will, they had to be in
residence in the Tower rooms.
The trustees had been notified that they were coming a week before
(unfortunately the letter had been mislaid by Mr. Gordon the trustee); here was
an evident attempt to hustle the girls out of their interest in the property.
But she would let them see!
She could not possibly give them possession of the Tower rooms; they might
wait for an hour or so, and she would have refreshments brought to them.
Mrs. Shrimpton asserted however, that they had come to stay, and was about
to discharge the carriage, when the housekeeper interposed again.
"You had better keep the carriage Ma'am, I feel sure that you will not be
able to stay here."
For three long hours they waited, but no Malcolm appeared; both the
housekeeper and butler were evidently getting fidgety and had come in and out
of the room on one pretext and another several times.
At last, when Mrs. Mortimer suggested that Mr. Malcolm Stewart might not be
back that night and they had better call again on the morrow, Mrs. Shrimpton
aroused herself and drawing out of her handbag a pair of spectacles, and a copy
of the will, commenced to peruse the document with eagerness. Jonas and Mrs.
Mortimer the while staring at her with the greatest interest.
"Shall be in residence in the northern Tower rooms from the month of
December inclusive." Here she stopped her reading, and turning around to Alice
said, "you hear that my dear, and tomorrow is the first, and this woman says
your cousin Malcolm may not be back tonight, and that we cannot remain."
Here she stepped into the hall.
"Coachman!" she screamed at the top of her voice, "unharness the horses, and
leave the carriage at the front door. Put the horses into some paddock
adjoining the house."
"I beg pardon, ma'am; but I would advise him to do nothing of the sort,"
said Jonas, "the carriage will block up the entrance."
Mrs. Shrimpton had meant to sleep in it if necessary.
"Are you the butler?" queried Mrs. Shrimpton, ignoring the interruption.
"Yes," he said, somewhat sulkily.
"And you're the housekeeper?" she said, looking at Mrs. Mortimer.
The latter nodded her head.
"Is there a steward of the estate or any one over you?" she asked, speaking
this time to the butler.
"Only Mr. Malcolm, and Mr. Gordon the Trustee."
"Well then, as Malcolm Stewart is away, send for Mr. Gordon."
"I beg your pardon ma'am," said Jonas; "but what reason can I give for
troubling the gentleman? He lives nearly two miles away."
"Good reason you idiot," said the lady, "call the rest of the servants and
listen to Donald Stewart's will."
"I beg your pardon ma'am; but I am not an idiot and I'll do nothing of the
sort," said Jonas.
But Mrs. Shrimpton paid no heed to him, and commenced to read the will
aloud, at which Jonas and the house-keeper listened with the utmost
eagerness.
As she proceeded their faces became pictures of astonishment.
"Are you sure Ma'am, that's a true copy of the old masters will," gasped
Jonas, when she had finished.
Mrs. Shrimpton deigned no reply, but simply said "send straight away and
fetch Mr. Gordon."
On the arrival of that gentleman, an hour afterward, possession of the four
rooms, in, and adjoining, the northern Tower, were given to the ladies;
Malcolm's things being tumbled out very unceremoniously.
"What an unfortunate thing it is," said Winifred, nearly crying to her
sister. "If I were cousin Malcolm I am sure I should hate to have my things
served so badly. Aunt has broken several of his trinkets, and I am sure there
will be a dreadful disturbance when he comes back."
"But it's great fun," replied Alice. "It's my opinion Mr. Gordon has kept
him in ignorance of the will on purpose. No doubt, was afraid to tell the young
man. Of course the whole thing is most absurd and stupid; but if Aunt Rhoda
does not go too far and spoil things, there is no reason why one of us should
not marry him."
"But what an unfortunate mistake it is that he did not know of our coming,"
said Winifred. "Aunt and Sally are unpacking our trunks downstairs, and
bundling all his nice things out most unceremoniously. I hate it all, and feel
more like a burglar than a visitor or resident."
"Don't be soft, Winnie. We are not bad looking girls, and my opinion is that
Malcolm will be very pleased to find us here. I am going to be as sweet as
sugar, and set my cap straight at him, and when we are married you can live
with us until Sir James Grant comes from India to marry you."
"What nonsense you talk. I don't believe Cousin Malcolm will take to either
of us. The very fact that he is expected to marry one of us will settle that,
and, as for Sir James Grant, you know there is nothing in it, and you ought not
to say such things."
This conversation, it may be said, took place on the summit of the North
Tower, from which there was a fine view of the grounds and bay and the great
waters of the Pacific Ocean. The girls had again and again exclaimed at the
beauty of the romantic scenery around them.
"Uncle was not so foolish, after all," said Alice. "Why, it would be
impossible to live in a place like this for a fortnight with any sort of a nice
young man without falling in love with him. And as for a boy like Malcolm, if
he has any romance or poetry in him, he'll capitulate to one of us before
Christmas, I think that I shall bring him up here to propose."
As she spoke, the western sky was flaming with the glory of a splendid
sunset. All around the roofs of the mansion were the great trees; while a
steamer, and a sailing vessel, and some fishermen's boats dotted the distant
waters.
"It's perfectly lovely," said Winifred.
"Yes," retorted Alice, "and loveliness has a singular tendency to make
people loving and loveable. Now, who could resist the temptation of making love
on a Tower like this?"
"But it's no use talking to you," said the lively girl, laughing at her
sister; "you are a regular Miss Prim, but I know that I'll either make Malcolm
marry me or have some fun out of him. I am going downstairs to ask Aunt Rhoda
whether we ought not to kiss him when we first meet. One of the girls at school
told me that cousins always kiss."
It need scarcely be said, however, that there was no kissing on Malcolm's
return. In fact, largely through Mrs. Simpson's lack of tact and judgment, the
great disturbance feared by Winnie actually took place.
Malcolm upbraided Mr. Gordon for not having previously made him acquainted
with the contents of the will; he stormed at Jonas for allowing his things to
be bundled out of his favourite rooms; and positively refused to meet either
Mrs. Shrimpton or his cousins, or have anything to do with them.
"Does the will really say that it is to be a joint occupation for three
months out of the twelve?" asked Malcolm, pacing angrily up and down the big
dining-room.
Mr. Gordon was a gentlemanly little man who did not like scenes, and was
terribly given to putting off an evil day.
"Look, Malcolm," he replied, "don't talk about it any more to-night, you are
only upsetting yourself. I don't care to ask Mrs. Shrimpton to lend me her copy
of the will, but I will get a copy from Smith, the lawyer, to-morrow, and in
the meantime, ask the ladies into dinner and be friendly. They are your
cousins, remember."
"But I have Robertson here, and would not let him know of the miserable will
for the world. Dine with them, indeed! after the way that woman has invaded the
place, and turned me out of my rooms. I'll put a six foot fence between
us!"
"But, Malcolm," remonstrated Mr. Gordon, "remember your father made this
will on purpose to throw you and your cousins into each other's society, and
they will have to be boarded by the establishment, and have a right to the use
of the dining room."
"Then I'll clear out and live in the servants' quarters, as far away as I
can get from them. Why, Robertson's mother and sisters were coming in to-night
after dinner."
"And I suppose Miriam Robertson," said Mr. Gordon, gloomily.
"And why not?" said Malcolm. "Do you think, Mr. Gordon, that I would sell
myself, soul and body, for the sake of Stewart Towers."
"What nonsense! There's no selling yourself about it; but if you marry
Miriam Robertson, you'll lose the property."
Malcolm went out and dined with the Robertsons that night, and flirted
desperately with Miriam. He was an "eligible," and ought to have known better,
and certainly felt thoroughly ashamed of himself afterward, both for his
attention to Miriam and his inattention to his cousins. He told his friend,
Frank Robertson, as much as he cared to about the whole thing, and wound up by
saying, "I am afraid that I have made a great fool of myself to-night old
fellow, in more ways than one; but that Mrs. Shrimpton would aggravate a
saint."
Malcolm and Frank both called on the day of their return, but the young
ladies deputed Mrs. Shrimpton to receive their visit, and she intimated
somewhat cooly that they thought it best to preserve intact their former
household arrangements.
"By George! Malcolm," said Frank, "it does not look as though either of your
cousins wanted very badly to marry you, does it? That was a mere excuse about
being tired and not very well."
"I expect it's 'swelled head' they are suffering from, the result of
successful authorship," said Malcolm, who was much mortified at the reception
they had had.
For a whole week the only sight they could get of the girls was when in the
cool of the evening they occupied their favorite seats on the Tower, and then
Mrs. Shrimpton was always with them.
The young men, however, never neglected to take an evening stroll together
under the terrace, where they could both see and be seen.
"I believe Winifred has grown," said Malcolm.
"And so has Alice," said Frank. "I should not be a bit surprised to hear
that they are both engaged."
"Nor I either," said Malcolm, moodily.
It was growing dusk, but the figures of the girls, who were dressed in
white, could be seen above the Tower battlements.
"They have got up," said Frank, "and are going down. You may depend upon it,
it's Mrs. Shrimpton that has got them to promise not to speak to us."
"She always spoils everything," said Malcolm. "I don't believe Eve would
have tempted Adam if Mrs. Shrimpton had been about."
Frank laughed at this, and said something about there having been neither
Towers nor Mrs. Shrimpton's in those days. It might have been better for Adam's
posterity if there had been.
That night, however, Malcolm was wandering about the grounds alone,
searching for inspiration for his book, when he thought he heard an unusual
commotion at the North Tower end of the mansion. It was the sound of girls'
laughter. He hurried along, for, to his surprise, he saw a white figure
descending by a rope from the summit of the Tower to the ground. The lady was
evidently a bit of an athlete, for she let herself down with much deliberation.
Presently, however, he heard Winifred call out, "Alice, this rope is not long
enough. I am at the end of it, and I must be six feet from the ground."
"You'll hurt yourself," called out Malcolm, rushing forward to where his
cousin hung in mid-air, a few feet only from the grass.
"Oh!" she called out, with a scream at being discovered, and then loosed the
rope, and a moment afterwards Malcolm found his arms full of soft frills and
flounces and his cousin Winifred.
"You are not hurt?" he said, holding her quite an unnecessarily long time in
his arms.
"Of course not, put me down Malcolm."
It was fortunately dark so Malcolm could not see his cousins blushes as she
explained that in some fit of absent-mindedness their aunt had bolted the Tower
door, and not wishing to create a disturbance, Alice had proposed that they
should let themselves down by a rope.
"Then why did not Alice make the descent," said Malcolm.
"Oh she said that I was afraid, so I showed her that I wasn't."
Needless to say that after this affair the cousins were on a very different
footing. As Malcolm confessed afterward, too, he had fallen in love with his
cousin over her book. But Alice would have it that the descent from the Tower
had a good deal to do with Malcolm's prompt proposal and early marriage. "Why,"
she said,﹃I watched you both, and the way he held you in his arms told me that
he loved you. I almost wished that I had gone down myself instead, and that
Frank had been there ready to have caught me.﹄However, in due time, either she
caught Frank or Frank caught her, it does not much matter which.
As both girls were orphans, and Mrs. Shrimpton wanted to get back again to
her husband and family in South Australia, an early double marriage was
arranged for, and both proved happy ones.
It should be added that the following Christmas-day at Stewart Towers was a
very different one to the first, also that the two husbands gave up
collaborating together, and never finished the book. Malcolm was clever enough,
and distinguished himself in other ways, and he said that he thought one author
was quite enough in a family.
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