The visitor, an elderly gentleman clad in white knickers, white shirt, and white cap, stared steadily through his gold-rimmed spectacles, then smiled in meditative recognition. He stretched forth his hand in greeting as he came up the steps.
“Harvey Chittenden!” he exclaimed. “I can hardly believe that it is you. I am Walter Pearson — the old family attorney—”
The tanned man laughed as he accepted the lawyer’s hand. He shook his head slowly, to indicate that a mistake had been made.
“Sorry,” he said, “but I’m not Harvey Chittenden. My name is Craig Ware. I came here to put the place in order, and I’m expecting Harvey at any moment now.”
“Well, well,” remarked the lawyer in an apologetic tone. “The error is mine, Mr. Ware. Of course — of course” — he was nodding thoughtfully — “Harvey is a younger man than you. Strange, what imagination will do. Of course, I have not seen Harvey since he was a boy — but I know the Chittendens, and I fancied that you were he.”
“That’s all right, Mr. Pearson,” said Ware cordially. “I’d never object to being mistaken for Harvey Chittenden. A wonderful young man, Harvey. I’ve known him for years, while he was knocking around. It’s good to see him settle down, now that he’s married. Let me tell you, too, Mr. Pearson, Harvey made no mistake in the girl he married. Wait until you see her—”
Ware broke off his conversation as an automobile rolled in the driveway from along the cove. The car came to a stop in front of the house. A young man and a young woman alighted. Walter Pearson recognized at once that these must be Harvey Chittenden and his wife.
THE two came up the steps and shook hands with Ware, who introduced them to Walter Pearson.
Harvey Chittenden eyed the lawyer dubiously, and Pearson noted the expression. Harvey was a tall young man, whose expression was one of maturity. Like Ware, he was swarthy in complexion.
The girl beside him gained Pearson’s instant admiration. Tall, slender, and graceful, Mildred Chittenden — for Harvey had mentioned her name in introducing her — was a young woman of the modern type. Her brown eyes formed a pleasing contrast to her raven-hued hair, and Pearson was glad to note that Mildred accepted him as a welcome guest despite her husband’s rather cold reception of the lawyer.
Harvey Chittenden had a rather abrupt manner. He displayed it now, as he turned to Pearson. It was obvious that he desired to know the purpose of the lawyer’s visit.
“What brings you here, Mr. Pearson?” he asked. “Some idea of a family reconciliation?”
“I must confess that I have such in mind,” laughed Pearson, “but actually this first visit is scarcely more than a friendly call. In a sense, I have represented you legally — and I was, therefore, anxious to meet you.”
“I have no desire for a reconciliation,” stated Harvey coldly. “Outside of that, Mr. Pearson, I am glad to see you.”
“Harvey” — Mildred’s voice made the interruption — “I think you should be fair to Mr. Pearson. Whatever he may have to say, it is only right to listen to—”
“All right,” said Harvey abruptly, “let’s get it over with. I handle matters directly. Tell me what’s on your mind, Mr. Pearson.”
“If we were alone — ” began Pearson.
“We do not need to be alone,” objected Harvey. “Mildred is my wife. Ware has my full confidence. I rely upon their judgment; they already know my story as I have told it. Let us have your version, then hear what they have to say.”
The four were seated about the porch. Ware looked at Pearson and smiled. This was encouraging to the lawyer. He cleared his throat in dignified fashion, and began to speak. He addressed his remarks directly to Harvey, while the others listened.
“HARVEY,” said Pearson, “the Chittenden family has been subject to many unfortunate misunderstandings. I have witnessed them, and they have grieved me. I fail to see why they should continue, even though they may be considered justifiable to members of the Chittenden family.
“Your grandfather had two sons: Sidney, the elder; Galbraith, the younger. Your grandfather possessed two houses — Upper Beechview, yonder on the large hill; and Lower Beechview — this residence. By the terms of his will, he intended to leave Upper Beechview to Sidney, and Lower Beechview to Galbraith.
“Then came misunderstanding. Sidney, against your grandfather’s wishes, married an actress. Sidney was disinherited. He went away, experienced a stormy career, and died abroad a year after his marriage.”
“What has this to do with me?” now questioned Harvey Chittenden. “I know the story you have told; it belongs to the past.”
“To the past, yes,” declared Pearson, in a kindly tone. “Nevertheless, it has a bearing on the present. Your grandfather made Galbraith his sole heir, for he considered Galbraith to be his only son. Galbraith married, and you were born. Your grandfather was delighted. He said that he had two sons again: Galbraith and Harvey. So to Galbraith he willed Upper Beechview; to you he willed Lower Beechview.
“Now comes the present misunderstanding. Your grandfather died, and the terms of his will were carried out. You did not occupy Lower Beechview, because you were still a minor. But you were now the eldest of three brothers. The other two, Wilbur and Zachary, were naturally piqued because they were not considered in the will. They made it unpleasant for you; and when you came of age, you went away. Thus the misunderstanding has continued. Now that you have returned, I should like to see a reconciliation.”
There was a momentary pause. Harvey Chittenden, resting back in his chair, was staring off into the distance. Far beyond the grove of copper beeches he could see the turrets of Upper Beechview. An expression of grim antagonism crept over his features. Still staring in the distance, Harvey spoke in a firm, steady voice.
“Your story, Mr. Pearson,” he said, “does not include the most important facts. You did not put up with the misery that I experienced. For years, my younger brothers tormented me with their insane jealousy. They tried to poison my father’s mind against me. While still in their teens, they plotted to find some way in which I could be deprived of the estate given me by my grandfather. Now that they have come of age, I do not believe any scheme could be too vicious for them to attempt — if they felt that they could gain the possessions which are rightfully mine.
“I left home when I was twenty-one. For twelve years I have been a wanderer. Why? Because I knew the evil natures of Wilbur and Zachary, knew that they hated me. I went away, because I had become my own master, and realized that if those cowards did not know where I was, they could not harm me. I made every provision to protect my property, but I left it abandoned because I did not want to live here. That is my story, Mr. Pearson — one of perpetual persecution.”
“I understand,” said Pearson. “Nevertheless, you have returned, after all. That is why I felt that perhaps old feuds could be forgotten—”
“The feud,” interrupted Harvey, “was instituted by my jealous brothers. You mistake my purpose in reopening this estate. I did not come here to please Wilbur and Zachary; I came here to spite them. I am married; I own this property; I am independent. I shall live my own life, and if they attempt to interfere — if anyone attempts to interfere—”
HARVEY CHITTENDEN’S voice broke off. Mildred looked toward her husband with alarm. Craig Ware seemed troubled. An expression of intense hatred now clouded Harvey’s face.
“Your father,” said Pearson softly. “He is an old man, Harvey. Surely you can bear no animosity toward him for—”
“I do not care to make the acquaintance of my father,” said Harvey, in an angry tone. “He still tolerates those leeches. He knows Wilbur and Zachary for what they are. Let him drive them out — send them into the misery that I accepted voluntarily — then I shall be ready to consider his welcome.”