In a cooler moment Mabel would have hesitated to obey the advice of
an ignorant, prejudiced person, her inferior in station and
intelligence. But in the whirl of astonishment, incredulity, and
speculation created by the tale she had heard, she untied the string
which formed the primitive fastening of the worn wallet, and
unclosed it.
The main compartment contained four tickets, issued by as many
different pawnbrokers, testifying that such and such articles had
been deposited with them for and in consideration of moneys advanced
by them to Thomas Lindsay; a liquor-seller's score against William
Jones--unpaid; and a tavern bill, in which brandy and water, whiskey
and mint-juleps, were the principal items charged against Edmund
Jackson. This last was the only paper which bore the indorsement
"Rec'd payment," and this circumstance had, probably, led to its
preservation. The adjoining division of the wallet was sewed up with
stout black thread and Mabel had to resort to her scissors before
she could get at its contents. These were a couple of worn
envelopes, crumpled and dog-eared, and stained with liquor or salt
water, but still bearing the address, in a feminine hand, of
"Lieutenant Julius Lennox, U. S. N." In addition to this, one was
directed to Havana, Cuba; the other to Calcutta, in care, of a
mercantile or banking-house at each place. A third cover bore the
superscription, "CERTIFICATE," in bold characters.
The negress' watchful eyes dilated with greedy expectancy at Mrs.
Dorrance's ghastly face when this last had been examind, but she was
foiled if she hoped for any valuable addition to her store of
information, or anything resembling elucidation of her pet mystery.
"It will take me some time to read all these," remarked Mabel, still
scanning the half-sheet she held. "You had better not wait, Mammy.
They are safe with me. No one else shall see them, and no harm can
come to you through them."
She promised mechanically what she supposed would soonest buy for
her privacy and needed quiet, and gave no heed to the manifest
disappointment of her visitor.
When she was at last alone, Mrs. Dorrance relocked the door, and
bent close to the lamp, as if more light upon the surface of the
document would tend to clear up the terrible secret thus strangely
committed to her discretion and mercy. The paper was a certificate,
drawn up in regular form, and signed by a clergyman, whose address
was appended below, in a different hand writing--of a marriage
between Julius Lennox and Clara Louise Dorrance.
"Her very name!" repeated the whitening lips. "I remember asking her
once what the 'L' in her signature stood for."