"You will stay and have dinner with me," Dr. Lavendar had told the
lawyer, hospitably, "and then Goliath and I will take you up the hill
to Mr. Gray's house."
And so, in the early afternoon, Goliath brought Mr. Carter to the
Grays' door. Alice, who was on the porch, insisted that Dr. Lavendar
should come in, too; she leaned into the buggy to whisper, joyously,
"If it is anything nice, I want you to hear it."
But for once Dr. Lavendar did not laugh and give her a kiss and call
her his good-for-nothing; he got out silently, and followed Mr. Carter
into the parlor, where Luther and Mrs. Gray were awaiting them. There
was a tense feeling of expectation in the air. The two young people
were together on the sofa, smiling and laughing, with small, whispered
jokes of presses and diamond-rings and mortgages. Rebecca sat by the
table, her worn hands in a trembling grip in her lap; she sat very
upright, and was briefer and curter than ever, and she looked most of
the time at the floor.
"You have been informed of my errand, madam?" said Mr. Carter. "It is
unfortunate that Mr. Gray is not at home, but perhaps you may be able
to give us some information on certain points, which will at least
instruct me as to whether the facts in the case warrant further
reference to him for confirmation. I will ask a few questions, if you
please?"
"Go on," Rebecca said.
"The late Mrs. Gray, the mother of this young lady," said Mr.
Carter--"do you happen to know her nationality?"
"English."
"Ah, yes. Just so. And do you know the date of her marriage to Mr.
Gray?"
Rebecca gave it.
"If any facts in regard to her occur to you--" the lawyer began.
"I've heard Mr. Gray say that she was a governess in the family of a
Mr. Urquhart," Rebecca said; and added, "They discharged her in Berlin."
Mr. Carter, glancing at a memorandum, his face keen with interest,
said, eagerly, "Pray proceed, madam."
"I don't know much more; Mr. Gray met her in Interlaken. They were
married three weeks afterwards."
"Ah, Switzerland? That explains; there was no record of a marriage at
the Embassy. Can you tell me anything of the parentage of the lady?"
"Her father's name was George Winton," Alice broke in, "and they lived
in a place called Medfield. He was a clergyman. Her mother's name was
Alys, too. Father has a prayer-book belonging to my grandmother; it
has her name in it, and my mother's. Would you like to see it, sir?",
"Exceedingly," Mr. Carter said; and while Alice ran to get the book, he
studied his memorandum so closely that no one dared to ask him a
question, if, indeed, any one wanted to. Rebecca had answered him
dully, looking out of the window part of the time, part of the time at
the floor. Dr. Lavendar, on the other side of the room, his hands on
the head of his cane, sat silently staring down at the carpet, his face
heavy and rather stern. Lute, radiant, twirled his cap in his hands,
and resolutely held his tongue.
Alice, as she handed the prayer-book to Mr. Carter, stopped on her way
back to Luther and squeezed Dr. Lavendar's hand. "Isn't it wonderful?"
she whispered; and he shook his head a little impatiently.
"Go and sit down, my dear," he said.
Mr. Carter, glancing at the name on the flyleaf, looked at his notes
again and then at Alice, "And this young lady--can she give me the date
of her birth?"
There was a little laugh, and Luther and Alice gave it together,
eagerly.
There were two or three more questions, and then Mr. Carter folded his
memorandum and slipped it within its rubber band with a snap; then he
smiled. Rebecca looked at him drearily. "Of course," he said,
addressing himself to her, "a question of identity cannot be decided
offhand; it is necessary to have certain affidavits which the surviving
husband of the deceased (who is asserted to be the person in question)
would be obliged, legally, to furnish. I think, however, that I am not
going beyond the line of discretion and propriety if I say that _if_
Mr. Robert Gray can produce such proofs (which I think I am not
unwarranted in saying I believe he can)--_if_ he can, then this young
lady is the heir to a very considerable fortune. I think, in point of
fact, I have the right to say that, if (as I have said before) these
proofs are forthcoming, the amount to be paid to the daughter of Alys
Winton is L5000."
Rebecca Gray put her hand to her mouth and stared blindly at the floor.
Dr. Lavendar thrust out his lower lip and frowned. As for Alice, she
laughed aloud, then burst out crying.
"Oh, _Lute_!" she said, tremulously; and, somehow, the two children
found themselves holding hands. "It's--it's so much!" she faltered.
"Five thousand pounds is--is $25,000!" the boy said, turning pale.
There was a pause; no one seemed to know just what to say. Then Lute,
suddenly: "Is it your mother's father that left it to you, Alice?"