Harry Whittaker, when suddenly claimed by Florrie as her long-lost
brother, felt an immediate sense of recognition of the fair, fat,
bouncing-ball of a seven years child, whom he remembered in the equally
bouncing and fully proportioned damsel of fifteen.
"If you're my little sister Florrie," he said, taking hold of her hands,
"how do you come to be out here by yourself at this time in the
evening?"
"'Twas I went and chattered to the keepers and set 'em upon you. And
when little Miss Lily found this here letter, I knew as how it was you
and Miss Geraldine's brother, and I run away to tell Wyn to stop 'em."
"Run away from the Warrens?"
"No--from Ravenshurst; I was to help the nurse there."
"Run away from your situation!"
"Well," said Florrie with more spirit, "it was a deal better to run away
than have you put in prison. I ain't so set on situations, either."
"Well, Florence, you're a plucky girl I see, and I'm greatly obliged to
you; but now I must just take you back to the keeper's lodge, that they
may be able to say to the lady that your own brother brought you home
again."
He gave a little squeeze to the hand he held, which brought a curious
thrill to Florence's heart. "But--but won't they take you up?" she
said.
"No; I shan't play hide-and-seek any longer. Anyway, if you came out to
take care of me I'm bound to take care of you. So come along."
"I ain't afraid to go back to Ravenshurst and face it out," said
Florrie.
"No; you shall go back with a good account to give of yourself
to-morrow, and now you do as I tell you."
Harry was so uneasy as to what had become of Mr Alwyn that he was not
sorry for any chance of finding out.
Florence walked along by his side more subdued than she had ever been in
her life. She answered all the various questions which Harry asked her
about home and their father quite meekly and as they neared the keeper's
lodge, to which he knew the way much better than she did, he heard a
little sniffle.
"Don't be afraid, I'll stand by you," said Harry good-naturedly, and
Florence for once did not reply that she never was afraid in her life.
There was a light still burning in the lodge, and Harry went boldly up
and knocked at the door. It was opened by Charles Warren himself, who
looked the tall burly figure up and down.
"If you're Henry Whittaker," he said, "walk in, and we'll hear what
you've got to say."
"I thank you kindly," said Harry; "I shouldn't have intruded, but I've
brought back my sister, who--"
"Mercy on us, Florrie!" exclaimed Mrs Warren, coming forward, while
Wyn, looking very pale and red-eyed, with a large patch of brown paper
on his nose, almost fell upon Florence.
"Oh, Florrie I have they sent you home in disgrace, for--for thinking
Mr Alwyn was a poacher? It's all over now, and we've been the ruin of
everything, and Mr Edgar's heart will be broke, and all through me."
"It ain't ruined at all," said Florence, "and I've found the letter for
you, and here it is."
"That's nothing near so bad as the other letter what master's got!" said
poor Wyn.
"Now shut up, Wyn," said his father. "Mr Alwyn's at the house, and the
matter's out of your hands, which never ought to have been mixed up in
it. Get you to bed at once. And what has brought Florence back again?"
"I went and carried on with Jim Blake and young Benson, and I set 'em on
thinking the men in the wood were poachers, and when I found the letter
in Miss Lily's pocket, and saw it was Mr Alwyn and my brother, I
thought I'd better run away than have their deaths on my shoulders. But
I was settling down, Aunt Charlotte, I was indeed, and folding up the
clothes quite regular."
"Could a note be sent to tell the lady what is become of her?" said
Harry. "I'll go myself if that's all; but it's late, perhaps, to
disturb them with a long story."
"I'll take the note," said Ned Warren, who had been standing in the
background, "if Bessie 'll write it."
Bessie accordingly indited a note in her mother's name, in which she
begged to inform her ladyship that Florence Whittaker had come home, but
that circumstances had occurred in part to excuse her and that she (Mrs
Warren) would wait on her ladyship the next morning with a full
explanation.
This note despatched, Bessie good-naturedly went upstairs to bathe Wyn's
face and to hear Florence's story, and to leave the elders free to come
to an explanation with the returned stranger. "Would you be good
enough," said Harry, "to tell me what has occurred as to Mr
Cunningham?"
"It's just this," said Charles Warren. "Strangers are scarce in these
parts, and my boy and the girl took it into their heads as they must be
after mischief, and chattered about what was none of their business to
the two young fellows that Ned and I have got in to help us. So when
they saw a stranger, as they expressed it, ferreting in a tree, they
clapped him on the shoulder and asked him his business. He looked them
in the face, as they put it, as cool as you please, and asked them if
they thought he was looking for pheasants' eggs in a hollow tree in
August? Which they took for cheek, which it sounded like, and told him
they'd walk him up here to me. So he says, says they, `I'm glad you
mind your business so thoroughly. Just walk up to the house with me,
and I'll explain matters to Mr Cunningham myself.' So they walked him
up, and Jim Blake, who has the most gumption of the two, says he did
begin to feel uncommon uncomfortable, and when they came to the garden
side, there was the master on the terrace. So says their man, `There's
your master, alone, I think. We'll go and speak to him at once.' And
he unlatched the gate, quite natural-like, and walks up to the terrace.
And there they saw Mr Edgar lying, and he gave a start and held out his
hands, and the master sent them off with a flea in the ear. And they
come straight to me, full of misgivings; they're new in these parts,
but, of course, _I_ knew who it must be at once."
"It did sound like Mr Alwyn all over," said Mrs Warren.
"Then back comes Wyn, and hears the story, and begins to cry, and bursts
out about the letter that Mr Alwyn had given him and the master took."
"And is Mr Alwyn at the house now?" asked Harry.
"Yes," said Warren, "he is. But now, perhaps, you'll tell us where you
come from, and what's brought you here, and why in the wood?"
"That last," said Harry, "came about unfortunate. Mr Alwyn and I came
down here straight from London, knowing nothing of any one. And,
thinking I was least likely to be recognised, he sent me with the letter
to his brother, asking him to meet him in the wood, or come to London to
see him, and to tell him how the land lay before he made himself known
to his father. I gave the letter to Wyn, who dropped it: here it is.
Mr Alwyn met Mr Edgar by chance, and was so knocked down by the state
in which he found him, that he couldn't tell what to do next. He was
afraid, you see, of his brother having to bear the brunt of a discovery,
and he not there. That made him delay."
"But, why hollow trees, which seem to have occurred in everybody's
story?" said Warren.
"Oh!" said Harry, "to pass the time," repeating much of what he had told
Mrs Stroud, omitting, however, Alwyn's experiences, but showing the
copies of the certificates and attestations of Lennox's confession,
giving proofs by letters and documents of his respectable position in
the States, and expressing with the frankness which, while it was like
his old daring, had yet a different note in it, how, being a father
himself, he had repented of his hardness and neglect towards his home.
"But," he concluded, "if people don't believe us, there's no more to be
said about it at present."
Warren was a shrewd man; he had never thought it at all likely that
Harry had stolen the jewels, and he saw plainly that there was no reason
to induce him to return to his native country unless the story was true.
"I take it," he said, "that the gentlemen before whom these affidavits
were made believed in the story."
"Why, certainly," said Harry, "which they are prepared to say in
writing. Mr Warren," he added, standing up, "there's a deal in the
past I have to ask your pardon for. I was a young scamp that cared
neither for man nor God, and I was downright ungrateful for all your
kindness. But I'm clear from that theft, and if you and my father can
say you think so, you'll clear away a trouble from me which not all my
good fortune has made me forget."
"Well, Harry," said Warren, "I see nothing against your story, and I'm
prepared to help you to make it out."
After this Bessie came down, and the conversation took an easier turn,
the exhibition of the family photograph, with the well-dressed wife and
comfortable baby, having its due effect on Mrs Warren. A shakedown was
offered to Harry in the kitchen, and at a late hour they all went to
bed, if not to sleep, after the day's excitement.
The next morning, as Wyn, though he was still rather sick and headachy,
and anything but presentable, was preparing to go about his work and to
inquire for Mr Edgar, and as Mrs Warren was making Florence tidy, in
Bessie's hat, to accompany her on a penitential errand to Ravenshurst,
there was a tap at the open door, and there stood Alwyn Cunningham
himself, as Mrs Warren said afterwards, for all the world as if he had
come to give his orders for a day's shooting.
"I heard you were here, Harry," he said, grasping his comrade's hand.
"Warren, I hope you'll give me a welcome also."
"Indeed I will, sir, and glad to see you. Hope you'll overlook the
young fellow's mistake yesterday."
Alwyn laughed a little.
"They were quite in the right of it," he said. "Hullo, Wyn, you have
punished yourself as well as the horse."
"Please, sir, if I hadn't been stupid-like with my nose bleeding, I'd
never have give up the letter. I'd have eaten it first!" burst out Wyn
miserably.
"It was all for the best," said Alwyn, "and you're a faithful little
fellow."
He paused a moment, then went on, aside to Harry:
"My father wishes me to remain here for the present, and he will give
facilities for the search in the wood which we wished to make. What are
your plans, Harry?"
"Well, sir, since things are settled here, I think I ought to go to
Rapley."
"Can you go to London as well, and give orders for my things to be sent
here? I could telegraph, but they are all in confusion. I don't wish
to leave my brother to-day. And you know I must not delay in going to
Ravenshurst."
"Is Mr Edgar better, sir?" asked Wyn timidly. "Not much, I'm afraid,
as yet. He must be very quiet for the present."
"Is all right, Mr Alwyn?" said Harry, as he followed him out of doors.
"As right as may be. My father acknowledges me, and asks me to stay
with him. Friendliness and forgiveness are another matter. He read and
heard all I had to say, and I believe he thinks your character cleared.
Perhaps the sudden meeting was as well for him as any other, but poor
Edgar fainted; all plans and scruples had to give way. It has been a
terrible shock for him, and he is quite worn out, only wanting to keep
me in sight I'll go back to him. I can't think of anything else just
now."