Maud Florence Nellie; or, Don't care!
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suddenly tears filled the keen eyes at the touchthat was more tender than all the skilled attention at his command.
"I'm glad you're found, Val; it's been rather lonely," he said.
"If I had guessed!" said Alwyn hoarsely; but at this moment a tremendousrush was heard, and Wyn's voice in loud tones of dismay broke in onthem.
"What are you about--you? Here I am, Mr Edgar. Father ain't far off."
Alwyn, who had been bending over his brother, started up, and Edgarbegan to laugh.
"All right, Wyn," he said, "stop that row. This gentleman isn'tsmothering me, nor stealing my watch; look at him--you'll see him again.You'd better ask his pardon for losing his letter."
Wyn's mouth and eyes opened wider and wider.
"Please, sir," he stammered, "he ain't the one that gave me the letter;and please, sir, I've lighted on the envelope, and someone has took theletter out."
Alwyn and Edgar looked at each other in dismay.
"There is my address," said Alwyn, after a moment; "if anythingunexpected turns up, send a telegram to me. But I shall be hereto-morrow, and then you shall know all. Here, boy, Mr Edgar will tellyou what you're to do. Be sure you are very careful of him. Can youlead the pony safely?" Edgar laughed again at Wyn's indignant stare,first at the speaker, and then at the half-sovereign dropped into hispalm.
"All right, Wyn," he said, "he has every right to order you; yes, andgive you a tip too. Put it in your pocket, and come along."
Wyn unfastened Dobbles, and turned him round, a light slowly breaking inon him as his master put both hands into the stranger's, and a few rapidwhispers were exchanged between them. Then Edgar made a sign to him togo on, and Wyn, with one shrewd glance at the face and figure of theobject of his suspicions, drew a long breath and said:
"Sir--sir--that's Mr Alwyn!"
CHAPTER TWELVE.
AUNT STROUD'S SURPRISE.
That same evening, while Alwyn Cunningham at his hotel in London waswriting the story of his life to his brother, hardly able to fix histhoughts on anything but the interview of the afternoon, Harry Whittakerwas walking through the streets of Rapley. Nobody noticed him there, orwondered to see a stout, good-looking man, with a long beard, and rathera rough coat, among the passers-by. Certainly no one identified himwith the saucy errand-boy who had idled at street corners and engaged ina free fight, with parcels and bandboxes for missiles and weapons, eightyears or so before. He walked on till he came to the small butrespectable-looking ironmonger's shop, over the door of which waspainted the name of Stroud. He walked in, glanced round, and awell-dressed woman came forward.
"What can I show you, sir?"
Harry asked for a clasp knife, looked at her keenly for a moment, thensaid:
"That's an American mowing machine, I think, ma'am?"
"Yes, sir, the newest patent, very light and handy. Anything in the wayof garden tools, sir?"
Harry Whittaker was Harry Whittaker still; he appreciated the exquisitejoke of being ceremoniously treated by his Aunt Stroud. But he couldnot afford to indulge it. He looked at her, smiled a little, and said:
"No, thank you, my farm's across the water in State. It'd hardly pay totake over machinery from the old country."
Mrs Stroud gave a start, and, as she afterwards expressed it, "nearlysunk down upon the rakes."
"Could I have a word in private?" said Harry.
"Step this way--sir," she said, still in a state of doubt, and leadinghim into the comfortable parlour behind the shop.
"Aunt Eliza," said Harry, as the door closed behind them, "I felt surethat _you_ would know me at once."
Mrs Stroud did sink down into an arm-chair exclaiming:
"Bless us and save us, it's Harry!"
"Yes, aunt," said Harry, "it is; and I've come first to you, knowingyour influence with father, and that you could be trusted with animportant secret; to ask you to give me a welcome, and to overlook mypast undutiful behaviour."
"Oh, my! And I'd imagined you a convict, or drowned dead!"
"Not at all," said Harry, "I never was drowned, and I haven't yet beenhanged. On the contrary, finding myself well-to-do in the world, andhappily settled in life, I felt that it was time to endeavour to undothe past."
Harry spoke quite earnestly, but with a boldness of manner, andconfidence of look, that established his identity at once. He put outhis hand; but Mrs Stroud, bursting into tears, launched herself on hisneck.
"You were always my favourite, Harry, and if you've done well foryourself I'm most glad to see you."
"Thank you, Aunt Eliza, you're very good, I'm sure; it's more than Ideserve. My father, my sisters and brothers?"
"Your father's very hearty, and your brothers and sisters doing well,except Florrie, who gives a deal of trouble, as you did yourself. Butwhat'll you take, Henry? Sit down and tell me where you've been living.What will you have?"
"A cup of tea, aunt, if it's your tea-time; I'm a teetotaller," saidHarry, unable to help a twinkle of fun at his aunt's astonished raptureat this evidence of virtue.
As she got the tea he began to tell his story much as Alwyn had alreadyrelated it to Edgar; but at greater length, and with many interruptionsfrom his aunt.
"Mr Alwyn," he went on, after some preliminaries about the buying ofthe land, and the discovery of the coal upon it, "never played the foolany more after he was on his own hands as it were. He seemed to want tojustify himself, and prove those mistaken that thought we should both goto the bad. He never let on that he felt parting from home and beingcut off from his expectations, nor did I. But, when there's no longeranyone to pull a young fellow up, it's one of two things: either he goesdown altogether, or he has to pull up himself. And I can tell you,aunt, if all the graceless young chaps knew what a much easier sort ofthing it is to get a good blowing up at the time, and the consequencessaved you afterwards, than to go scot-free and find out for yourselfwhat you've brought about, they'd not be in such a hurry to kick overthe traces. But Mr Alwyn said that he'd brought suspicion and troubleon me, and he wouldn't be the ruin of me further. So we kept straightand got on, and thought a deal of ourselves for doing it."
"It's what no one never expected!" ejaculated Mrs Stroud.
"No," said Harry. "Well, I got married, as I'll tell more aboutby-and-by, and I thought I'd done with the old country altogether, andwent on as comfortable as could be till my little boy came. Then, AuntEliza, somehow it came over me more and more what it would be to havethat little chap hear that there were those over here that thought I wasa thief, and have him know that I was an undutiful son that left myfather in his old age. If that there baby was for eight years withoutso much as thinking of me, or caring what I thought of him, why, it'd gonear to break my heart, and I'd sooner follow him to his grave now, andnever see him again. God forgive me! I'd been a bad son, but `don'tcare' was a word I couldn't say before the little chap, nor have him sayafter me.
"Well, when all this was waking in me, Mr Alwyn was away in Boston, andI'd reason to guess what kept him there, and how there was a young ladyin the case. He came back sudden, and while I was thinking how to tellhim what was in my mind he turned round upon me and said, says he`Harry, I'm going home to beg pardon.'
"`If you do,' says I, `I'll go with you.'
"And then he told me how he couldn't ask Miss Dallas to marry him tillhe had told about his quarrel with his father; but his pride had heldhim back from trying to make it up, and going to seek for what he'dthrown away. He'd had a very hard time, he told me, what with the oathhe'd made, and all that lay behind him. And he did look pale andchanged, I can tell you, and seemed as if he couldn't speak what was inhis mind. But he should go, he said, whether the jewels were found ornot, and even if the opening up of all the old scandal put him furtheroff the young lady. And then I told him the thoughts I'd had on thesubject, and he said: `There's more than that, Harry, for through allthis I've come to see that I sinned against God.'"
"Well," said Mrs Stroud, "I never
did think to hear as Mr Alwyn was aconverted man! It's a miracle!"
"Well," said Harry gravely, "as you may say it was; but 'twas thatconviction that conquered his pride and made him resolve to go homeagain. Just as we'd settled on this conclusion, and were wondering whatto do next, there was an accident with some paraffin, and a young fellowworking for us was near burnt to death, and would have been killed onthe spot but for Mr Alwyn. Now we knew that this young man Lennox hadbeen