There was no trace of tears on Nancy's smiling face, when three quarters of an hour later, she appeared among the company, looking particularly fresh, and self-possessed. In answer to eager queries, she gave a vivid description of the lure of the oak chest, her rustic hostess, her unique sleeping chamber, and early morning excursion across meadows steeped in dew.
"And what about Sir Dudley all this time?" inquired Mrs. Speyde, "you haven'tmurderedhim by any chance, have you?"
The reply to this question, came in Mrs. De Wolfe's very deepest voice, "Dudley Villars made himself scarce, of course; he is a man of the world and able to cope with awkward incidents. He was leaving to-day under any circumstances,—and has already sent for his car."
By degrees the subject subsided, and lapsed; the guests were more or less engaged in preparations for their departure, there was not much time, for sustained discussion, and as far as Nancy was concerned, an exhausting ordeal, was satisfactorily closed.
Before her numerous friends motored away to the station, or to their several homes in the neighbourhood, Nancy held a short parley with two. Firstly, with Mrs. Hicks, who pounced upon her in the hall, and drawing her into one of the embrasures, said: "My dear child, I've scarcely had a word with you these two days; and I've just been longing andachingto hear what you and Mayne said to one another on Thursday evening? I suppose you know thatIsent him!"
"I suppose I do," rejoined Nancy bluntly.
"Has anything been settled?"
"No, not exactly; I believe he went away early this morning."
"He did," assented Mrs. Hicks, "but he is within reach, and you can easily put your hand upon him. Always remember, my dear child, that whenever I can do anything for you, or him, I will. I've had a most gorgeous time! everyone has been so jolly and friendly, it's almost as if I was back in India, and I'll never forget this tennis week as long as ever I live. Now I must go and get my things together, as I see my train is 12.5, so ta, ta, for the present," and she moved off.
The broad back of Mrs. Hicks was scarcely out of sight, before she was superseded by Billy Miller, who was evidently charged with an important subject.
"Our car has not arrived yet, Nancy," she began, and taking her arm she added, "I want you to come out on the lawn with me,—for I've got something to tell you," and Nancy assenting, the two girls passed through the wide french window, and strolled down towards the tennis courts.
"I should like you to be one of the first to know, that I am engaged to Major Horne," announced Miss Miller. "We settled it last evening, out here in the moonlight."
"Oh, Billy, I'm delighted!" said Nancy. "I always thought it was going to come off. I think he is charming, and you will have a delightful mother-in-law,—but what will become of your family?"
"They will have to look after themselves," was the heartless rejoinder. "I have given them a splendid start; you see Minna is married, Brenda is engaged, there is only Baby left,—and she is the flower of the flock; then you know some of us will always be coming backwards and forwards. The Pater has taken a house in town,—which will be a sort of family hotel. Of course, Nancy, I expect you to be one of my bridesmaids. By the way, my dear, you nearly gave us fits last evening."
"I'm afraid I did, and I cannot say thatIwas very happy myself."
"No; I could see that Mrs. De Wolfe was on tenterhooks, although she did her best, to pretend that your staying out all night, was a mere everyday affair! Next to her, amazing to relate, the one who took your absence most sorely to heart, was a mere acquaintance,—Captain Mayne! He seemed uncommonly abstracted, and silent, and that was not all,—I wish it had been; his room happened to be over mine, and I could hear him walking about the whole night! I would go to sleep and wake up, and there he was, still doing sentry go! At one time I had an idea of getting out of bed, and knocking on the ceiling with an umbrella: perhaps he had toothache?"
"Perhaps he had," assented Nancy, but in her heart she knew, that it was not toothache, but dreadful misgivings with regard to herself, that had made him pace his room! He had warned her more than once against Sir Dudley; and his suspicions, and dislike, had proved to be only too well founded.
When all the guests had departed, a Sunday calm descended on the Court. Mrs. Horne and Roger De Wolfe, still remained; the former as a support and confidante and comfort to her old friend, fatigued by her recent activities, and greatly shaken by Nancy's adventure,—required someone of her own age, into whose ear she could pour her troubles.
The two old ladies wandered about the green lawns, or sat in the shade together, enjoying what is known, as a "good talk." The chief subject of Mrs. De Wolfe's discourse, was Dudley Villars; that catastrophe had dislocated years of happy friendship. "I had hereto always quoted him, believed in him, and look at what he has done!" Mrs. Horne, an unusually noble-minded woman, never attempted to recall their interview, and her warning at Cadenabbia—merely contenting herself with saying, "I never liked Sir Dudley, or trusted him, my dear; but I thought that perhaps, as you were so fond of him, there must be good in him, whichIcould not discover."
Whilst these two friends enjoyed one another's society, Roger De Wolfe went round the farms, and coverts, with bailiff and keepers, more as agent, for his cousin, than with the eye of a man inspecting his future possessions! He was, as Mrs. De Wolfe had said, a good, single-minded, stupid fellow,—forty years of age, and still unmarried. Even his best friends were bound to admit that Roger was a bore;—a silent bore,—which is one of the most trying description. The type that sits, and sticks, scarcely speaking,—obviously waiting to be entertained; absorbing ideas, like a great sponge.
Nancy liked Roger; at least he was restful; and when his two chief topics were exhausted,—prize retrievers, and carpentering—she suffered him to, so to speak, "stew in his own juice." They played croquet, and the girls from the Rectory came up and made a set at tennis; but as a rule Nancy spent a good deal of time with herself; lounging in a hammock, dipping into a novel, or sitting on the rustic seat, at the end of the long turf walk. The two old ladies went motoring of an afternoon, and Mrs. De Wolfe expressed her intention of calling on Mrs. Bode and thanking her in person.
"I daresay you will like to come too, Nancy," she said.
"On the contrary, I don't think I could endure to see that house again; no I really couldn't face it! I have already written to Mrs. Bode and sent her a present, and if she offers you a blue bowl, please say that I have changed my mind,—but you need not add, that I do not wish for anything to remind me of her abode."
The day following her visit to Mrs. Bode, Mrs. De Wolfe declared, that she must go and look up Richard Mayne. "I fancy he is feeling rather lonely, now that his nephew has departed, and I'll ask him over on a little visit. I must confess, I was greatly affronted with Derek: rushing out of the house before breakfast,—just as if it had been an hotel; it would have served him right, if I had sent a stiff bill after him! However, I had a nice note from him,—a note of apology, telling me, that he had been unable to wait to see me that morning, as urgent business summoned him to London, and he hoped that I would forgive him? I expect he will be down again, before long, for the partridge shooting, and then I shall give him a piece of my mind, for although I like the boy, I don't hold with these casual manners."
Nancy did not accompany the two ladies, she preferred to take the dogs out, and as she was crossing the hall, Sutton approached her with a solemn face, bearing a note on the salver, and said, "I am very sorry, Miss Travers, but this note was given to me for you just a week ago. It happened at an awkward time, before dinner, the night of that big party. I put it inside the wine book, in my pantry, and forgot all about it until now; such an oversight has never happened to me before; but I hope you will excuse me, miss, knowing what a lot I had on my mind, and so many things to see to. I trust the note is of no consequence,—I see it was written in the house."
Yes—there on the flap of the envelope was "Newenham Court."
"Thank you, Sutton," said Nancy, "I expect it is all right," then turning over the note, she was startled to find that it was addressed to her in Mayne's handwriting. She tore it open, and read:
Thursday evening.My dear Nancy,It was very unfortunate, that our conversation this afternoon was interrupted, I should much like to have atalk. May I find you in the little book room immediately after dinner? I shall be there anyhow, about nine o'clock.Yours always,D. Mayne.
Thursday evening.
My dear Nancy,
It was very unfortunate, that our conversation this afternoon was interrupted, I should much like to have atalk. May I find you in the little book room immediately after dinner? I shall be there anyhow, about nine o'clock.
Yours always,D. Mayne.
This was dreadful; not only had she failed to keep the rendezvous, but she had been absent the whole of the following night; and had not arrived home, until after his departure. Naturally, to him, the whole affair must present the blackest aspect. What would she do? what could she do? She felt almost distraught, as she wandered out into the garden, and walked up and down the long turf track, in much the same frame of mind, as that, which had kept Mayne afoot for a whole night.
She remembered the evening of the tournament—how he had never come near her, but, how she had caught his eyes watching her gravely, as she and Sir Dudley sang duets. She would write to him immediately, and give him a full account of her hateful adventure in Mrs. Bode's cottage, and she would ask him to arrange for them to have an immediate meeting. Her present position, was insupportable, the secret altogether too heavy a burden. She was not playing the game, in keeping such a page of her past from Mrs. De Wolfe, nor was it honourable to pass herself off, as a spinster, among the young men of her acquaintance. If Mayne had not returned home,—and at least if they had not come across one another,—matters might have remained in abeyance for years; but now that she knew him, and time had softened a far away tragedy, she realized that she loved him; yes, to herself, there was no use in thrusting away, or trying to evade the truth.
The question was, did he love her? Perhaps! probably! Yes, a girl has an intuition in these things; of course there was the money; that was still a rock of offence; but many men had married women with fortunes, and the marriages had not been unhappy!—Quite the contrary, by all accounts; and she could point out to him, that when they were married,hehad been the rich partner, and she as poor as a church mouse. Partridge shooting would begin shortly, she would probably see him in a few days—meanwhile she wouldwrite. She sat for a long time mentally composing her letter. At last, she heard the motor return, and presently she rose to meet the two old ladies, who were coming towards her across the lawn.
"Well!" she exclaimed, "how did you find Mr. Mayne?"
"Oh, my dear," replied Mrs. De Wolfe, throwing up her hands, "I never saw him in such low spirits,—we really couldn't help feeling very sorry for him,—whatdoyou think? Derek Mayne has gone back to India,—he left for Marseilles yesterday morning."
"Gone back to India," repeated Nancy, "but why? I heard he had got an extension of leave."
"Yes, but there is some trouble on the frontier, they say, and Derek is high up among the captains of his regiment, and I have always heard a very keen soldier; Mrs. Horne and I have put our heads together, and come to the conclusion that there's something more in his departure, than meets the eye.—Perhaps we shall all know some day? Well, anyway, Nancy, the news does not affectyou, for somehow, you and Derek were never particularly friendly."
To this, Nancy made no answer, and if her old friend had not been engaged in returning the caresses of three dogs, she might have noticed that her young friend looked strangely pale.
When Nancy found herself in her own room, she locked the door, and sat down to face this unexpected situation,—this new trouble. She was well aware of the reason of Derek's abrupt departure, but surely it was impossible for him to believe that she had run away with Sir Dudley? he must have heard from his uncle, that she was still at the Court. However, it was evident, that he had received a bad impression of her character, and would have nothing further to say to her! She immediately determined to write to him, and found wonderful comfort in the conviction, that she could clear herself by pen and paper,—but unfortunately the letter would have to wait for days before it could be dispatched. This important epistle she wrote, re-wrote, corrected, and copied, over and over again. Sometimes she found that it said too much, sometimes too little; sometimes it was too bold, sometimes too formal,—and always toolong. After many hours of meditation, and changing her mind, and destroying much note-paper, she completed in two sheets, an explanation, which she believed would do,—and leave no disagreeablearrière penséeupon her conscience.
With considerable diplomacy she obtained the correct address from Mr. Mayne, motored over to Maynesfort alone, took tea with the old gentleman, entertained him with lively talk, made a casual inquiry, and accomplished her errand! On mail day, the momentous dispatch was duly posted by her own hand.
The next event in Nancy's existence, was the death of Mrs. Jenkins. A sudden seizure of apoplexy carried her off in a few hours; her will proved to be a surprising document, and a bitter disappointment to Mrs. Taylor. To her dear friend Henrietta Taylor, she only left one hundred pounds, to Miss Dolling, fifty pounds,—for the purchase of a mourning ring,—the Pom and a substantial sum were bequeathed to the butler; three hundred a year and her wardrobe, to Baker, her faithful maid; her pearls and her portrait to her dear niece, Nancy Travers, as well as the Travers silver and books; all the remainder—including lease of house and investments—were to his great surprise bequeathed to the nephew of her late husband, Samuel Jenkins.
After all, it was but just and fair, that the Jenkins money, should return to the Jenkins purse? But why should poor Mrs. Taylor be cut off with a hundred pounds?—alas! the sad truth must be disclosed. Although Mrs. Taylor enjoyed prolonged midnight conferences, it was Baker, the maid, who had the verylastword, when putting her lady to bed. Baker cordially hated Mrs. Taylor,—naturally it was painful for her to witness the valuable presents, and beautiful dresses, that the weak-minded old lady bestowed upon her toady.—By gradual degrees, the crafty woman dropped some poisonous truths into her mistress's ear; she even inferred, that Mrs. Taylor was a double-faced friend; who said one thing to her lady's face, and another behind her back!
"I know for a fact, that she told Mrs. Seymour as how your memory was going," boldly announced Baker,—with her mistress's little rat tail of back hair, tightly clenched in her hand, "and that you really wanted someone like herself, to look after you, and your affairs."
Although Mrs. Jenkins had angrily repudiated this information, and commanded the maid to hold her tongue, nevertheless the dart rankled, and went far to counteract Mrs. Taylor's honeyed speeches, and audacious flatteries. To these, Mrs. Jenkins listened greedily,—but she was a sly old thing, and took notes. One or two of her visitors, had ventured hints respecting Mrs. Taylor and her pretensions,—for her arrogance had become insupportable. It had been whispered, that she had already decided what she intended to do with the house in Queen's Gate, when it was her property; and had more than once rashly intimated, that her dear friend Mrs. Jenkins was "breaking up!"
Nancy, who was much surprised at the news of her legacy, stored the picture, sent the pearls to her bank, and went into slight mourning. In these days, she felt nearly as dull and silent as Roger De Wolfe,—although she made a valiant effort to appear otherwise: she was counting the very hours, until she could receive an answer to her letter,—but perhaps Derek would not reply?
Her hopes went up and down, like a see-saw—at one moment she was sanguine—the next visited by despair. Undoubtedly it was an agreeable distraction to Nancy, and a pleasure to her other friends, when Mrs. Ffinch appeared upon the scene. She looked thin, and weather-beaten, but as active, and energetic as ever. At first she came down to stay with the Hillsides,—and later to the Court,—a much more comfortable abode. She had frequently visited there as a girl, and now made herself thoroughly at home. Naturally she saw a great change in her protégée; here was another Nancy from the flapper of Fairplains,—and the two, had long and intimate talks: having many topics, and one secret in common.
"And so you had Mayne at home," said Finchie.
With this abrupt remark, she had opened their firsttête-à-tête. "Yes. By accident you fell not 'among thieves,' but, among his friends! That marriage was a terrible disaster. If I had not happened to be away,—it would never have taken place. Just see, what a fix you are in; a girl of your appearance and position, could marry almost anybody,—including my poor Tony. Dear me, Nancy, how much I should like you for a niece! Perhaps it could come off after all; for I suppose you are aware, that Captain Mayne could get rid of you if he liked.—Desertion! but what anesclandre! You would have to go back to Fairplains, and bury yourself temporarily among the coffee bushes! You and he have met I know,—and met often, I believe he was actually staying here!"
Nancy nodded.
"And there it ended for the present? I understand he has returned to India. I do not know what he and Josie have been up to,—at least I can guess whatshehas been doing,—flirting for all she is worth,—but she has her knife into Derek Mayne up to the hilt; and for what reason?—the rest is silence! Ah! here is the postman coming up the back avenue, let us go down and waylay him, for this is Indian Mail day, and I am expecting the usual screed from my old man."
As the ladies waited whilst the postman sorted out "the Court letters," Nancy's heart almost stood still; would there be one for her, or not? Therewas! She turned her back upon her two companions, and opened it with trembling fingers.
Hawari Camp,Darwaza Hills,N. W. Frontier.My dear Nancy,I wasveryglad to receive your letter, which makes everything clear. Fate was dead against that interview, perhaps I may get home when this bit of a scrap is over; we are expecting to have a brush with the tribes at once. If I do manage leave, I shall return immediately, and hope our meeting may come off,—the third time is the charm. I write in desperate haste to catch the Dâk just going down, as I want you to have this answer without delay. My hands are so frozen, I can scarcely hold my pen; will write again next week.Yours always,D. M.
Hawari Camp,Darwaza Hills,N. W. Frontier.
My dear Nancy,
I wasveryglad to receive your letter, which makes everything clear. Fate was dead against that interview, perhaps I may get home when this bit of a scrap is over; we are expecting to have a brush with the tribes at once. If I do manage leave, I shall return immediately, and hope our meeting may come off,—the third time is the charm. I write in desperate haste to catch the Dâk just going down, as I want you to have this answer without delay. My hands are so frozen, I can scarcely hold my pen; will write again next week.
Yours always,D. M.
This letter filled Nancy with a glow of happiness and a sense of joy and relief, such as she had not known for many a long day. She hurried up the avenue clutching her treasure, half afraid that Finchie would overtake and cross-examine her, but looking back she noticed, that Finchie, with a large bundle of correspondence in her hand, was still gossiping with the postman.
It was mid October and the woods round Newenham were not now dressed in green, but clothed in various shades of brown, dark red, and deep orange; in the grounds, one no longer heard the continual rattle of the mowing machine; the gardeners were busy with barrows and brooms, sweeping up, and removing, the endless showers of withered leaves. Within, the atmosphere was gay and sunny, here were various congenial guests: Roger De Wolfe and Major Horne had come for the pheasant shooting. Mrs. Horne, Billy and Baby Miller were of the party, and Mrs. Hicks who had rushed down on a flying visit, before she sailed for India, also Mrs. Ffinch, and Mr. Mayne.
The solitary old gentleman, had seemed so dull and depressed, that Mrs. De Wolfe insisted that he should join her circle—even for a few days. To Nancy she said, "I've no doubt that the gossips will think that we are going to be married atlast; they settled a match years and years ago, and how my boys used to laugh and chaff me! You will look after him, Nancy, the old man is devoted to you, and you are devoted to him, and I must confess, I admire the courage with which you take him on at Bridge; a most hopeless and expensive partner, who doubles and re-doubles, even if he holds a Yarborough; the old gambling spirit re-appearing in a milder form!"
It was five o'clock in the afternoon, the party were collected round the tea table in the hall,—a table laden with rare old silver, a fine Crown Derby tea-service, hot scones—savoury sandwiches and cakes too numerous to mention—and Mrs. Ffinch,—who never lost sight of an opportunity,—had cleverly manœuvred dull Roger De Wolfe into a seat next to lively Baby Miller. In the opinion of this astute matron, it was full time that Roger was married; he was forty, his hair was thinning on the top, his figure was thickening; in short, she was resolved upon this match. Glancing over the girls in the neighbourhood, she found none so suitable to be the future mistress of the Court, as pretty, red-haired "Baby."
She could see that Roger was already dazzled and fascinated, and it would be a most desirable alliance. Roger was plain, silent, and worthy; Baby was a charming chatterbox, and a nice, good, clever girl; some day, she would and should be the châtelaine of this dear old house, and take charge of the precious family treasures, when their present owner had passed away. There was a loud hum of talking, and laughing, Major Horne and Roger De Wolfe were discussing their day's sport, Mr. Mayne and Mrs. De Wolfe were still wrangling about their last rubber, when Sutton entered, salver in hand.
"Your letters have just come, sir," he said, approaching Mr. Mayne. "Are there any orders for Graham?"
The old gentleman took up his letters, glanced at them indifferently, and answered, "No, not to-day," turning to Mrs. De Wolfe he added:
"Only a bill from my saddler, and a letter from Julia Torquilstone. I wonder what the deucesheis writing about?" he added peevishly—"sure towantsomething," and he laid it unopened by his plate. "I was hoping to hear from my boy. I know the mail came in two days ago."
Nancy too had hoped for a letter; but her hopes had been doomed to disappointment.
As soon as Mr. Mayne had disposed of Mrs. De Wolfe's argument, and a second cup of tea, he opened the neglected epistle from his sister-in-law,—and read it with a frowning face.
"Here's bad news!" he exclaimed, in a tone which silenced every other voice. "Julia has had a line from the War Office, to say that Derek has been dangerously wounded in some action with the hill tribes. Oh, these little wars, and what they cost us!"
"Are there any particulars?" inquired Mrs. De Wolfe.
"There you are!" handing her an official telegram. "I suppose," and his voice was husky, "he will leave his bones out there, like his father."
When Mrs. De Wolfe had glanced over the slip of paper, she was not a little surprised, to see Nancy rise from her place, and stretch out a trembling hand.
"May I see it too?" she asked. The question was so clear and so unexpected, that every eye was riveted on the pale girl, whose gaze was bent on the telegram,—that is to say every eye, save those of Mr. Mayne, who was apparently engulfed in his own trouble.
"I suppose he will die out there alone!" he groaned. "Of course Julia won't stir, I'm too old,—and there's nobody else to go."
"Iwill go," announced Nancy, steadying herself by a tall Charles the First chair, and looking round the assembled company, with a white and rigid face. "I must tell you all at last, andnow,—that—that—" and her voice sank till it became a whisper—but an audible whisper, "I am hiswife!"
"Nancy!" ejaculated Mrs. De Wolfe, in a key of contrasting depth.
"It's true," she continued with livid lips, "we were married by my father's deathbed, two and a half years ago, and——" here she completely broke down.
"Nancy, child, don't,I'lltell it," volunteered Mrs. Ffinch, stretching out her arm. "No, she is not raving, as you might naturally suppose," she added, glancing at her companions. "I know all about it,—and Mrs. Hicks was present,—she saw them married!"
"Yes," corroborated Mrs. Hicks, "I did, and it's about the only secret I've ever been able to keep!"
"But why a secret?" demanded Mrs. De Wolfe, who had recovered her composure.
"We were married to relieve my father's mind," replied Nancy, who had also reclaimed her self-possession. "I was alone in the world, and very poor, and he was dreadfully unhappy about me; Captain Mayne and I did not care for one another—in those days! Please!" looking round the circle—"doforgive me for deceiving you,—but we agreed to keep the marriage secret, and to be strangers always, and I must confess, thatIbehaved very badly. I was distracted, and I ran away; but I was so young, and so heart-broken! It is different now; I shall leave with Mrs. Hicks on Friday, and pray that I may be in time.—I am going to send off a cable," and looking like the wraith of Nancy Travers, she left them.
The old mahogany door closed upon a long expressive silence, presently to be broken by Mrs. Ffinch, who gladly took up her parable. Here washerhour! what an opening for her natural eloquence, and love of dominating a situation! As she unravelled Nancy's past, she had the supreme happiness of knowing, that her listeners actually hung upon her words,—especially old Mr. Mayne, with his head advanced, and hand behind his left and best, ear!
In a few short and telling sentences, she described Nancy's adoration of her father, their ideally happy life,—the terrible scene with the panther, Mayne's bad shot, his rescue by Travers, and how when Travers was dying, Mayne had come forward, and undertaken the charge of Nancy. How immediately after the funeral Nancy, in a condition of frenzied grief, had written a letter of farewell and repudiation to Mayne,—and taken refuge with her old nurse at Coimbatore.
"Aye, it really was a terrible letter," chimed in Mrs. Hicks, "I was there, when he read it, and he looked knocked all of a 'eap.—First he showed it to Teddy Dawson, and then to me. She said as how she blamed him, and how she hated him,—and so he let her go,—what else could he do?"—throwing herself back in her chair, and folding her arms with an air of finality—then added as an afterthought, "but he made her a good allowance!"
"Which she never touched," supplemented Mrs. Ffinch, "the money has lain all this time in Grindlay's Bank; they held no communication with one another, each went their own way: he as a bachelor, she, as an unmarried girl, until they came to London,—where Fate threw them together, in spite of themselves."
"So all the time, therewasa girl in the background!—a girl to whom he sent money," said Mrs. Horne,—who had a wonderful faculty for remembering—but not disseminating—scraps of gossip. "There's never smoke without a fire, and to think, that all the time it should beNancy."
"It was a case of a foolish, hasty, wedding," declared Mrs. Ffinch judicially; "had I been at home, I would never have allowed it to take place. Unfortunately I happened to be absent for a few days, and in those few days, occurred Nancy's marriage, and her father's death. I think that Derek Mayne,—though he meant well,—behaved like a lunatic!"
"No," corrected his uncle, thumping on the table, "he behaved like a man of honour! I was always fond of Derek, and now I'mproudof him! I'll just go and see what that girl is doing?" and taking his stick, he hobbled out of the room.
When Nancy found Mrs. De Wolfe alone, she said, "Hundreds of times I've wanted to speak, and to tell you,—but I dared not; for I felt, that if I opened my lips, the secret would spread; if I told one, I might tell another; and when I saw Derek, I realized that we were to be strangers,—in fact he said so in the plainest terms. There was nothing for it but silence,—at first."
"And now?" inquired her friend, with grave significance.
"Now,—only for my money,—I believe he would have made it up! Money, or no money, I'm going out on Friday; I have already secured my berth, by telephone,—but oh, dear, dear Auntie, supposing I amtoo late!"—and as she sank on her knees and buried her face on the old lady's lap,—her sobs were heartbreaking.
"Don't meet trouble half way, my child," said Mrs. De Wolfe, "though crying will relieve your poor heart. It is only theyoung, the lucky young, who can weep. Remember that the Maynes are as tough as leather; why, look at that old man downstairs; four months ago, a horse rolled upon him, and broke his leg, and three ribs; to-day, he was out shooting pheasants! Oh, Nancy my dear, how often I've wished that you, and Derek would take to one another,—and only to think, that you were married all the time! Well, in my long, and not uneventful life, you have given me the most stunning surprise, I have ever experienced!NowI can understand why Derek never came to the house, and went out of his way to avoid me."
"Everything is my fault. Auntie Wolfe," sobbed Nancy, "I'm afraid you will never care for me any more, nor trust me: everyone will think me so secretive, and deceitful,—and so Iwas!"
"It will be all right, my dear, if only Derek recovers, and you make him happy,—as I believe you can. By and by you will both come home, and settle among us,—and your strange story will be forgotten."
As soon as Captain Mayne was convalescent, he and his wife travelled down to Fairplains, where they were the guests of Mr. and Mrs. Dawson; and in that familiar and unchanged verandah, he once more occupied his favourite shabby chair, and surveyed from his place, the dim blue plains. All the neighbours and employees flocked to the bungalow, to hail and welcome Nancy. Francis received his "Little Missy" with rapturous joy, and a few trickling tears.—As for Togo, that faithful heart was always hers.
When Miss Travers, at a few hours' notice, had hurried out to India, to marry, and nurse, Captain Mayne; it was generally believed that this was but the romantic sequel, to a long and mysterious engagement.
Not more than two or three hundred people are in possession of the truth!
THE END
Each in Cloth
A RASH EXPERIMENT
WHAT SHE OVERHEARD
IN OLD MADRAS
THE SERPENT'S TOOTH
Printed in Great Britain by Ebenezer Baylis & Son, Worcester.