The six days of the voyage passed uneventfully enough. Jane Blythe,
obeying Mrs. Markle's instructions, spoke to no one, and although one or
two women, muffled to their eyes in wraps, stared at her in sleepy
curiosity from their steamer chairs, and an elderly man restored her
head covering, which on one occasion escaped its moorings and blew
across the deck, no one attempted to enter into conversation with her.
Jane accepted this circumstance as she accepted everything else in her
new and strange surroundings. She ate regularly, which could be said of
very few of the other passengers, and slept soundly at night after long,
delightful days spent on deck in the keen mid-ocean air, and with it all
her thin face rounded into a lovely radiance of girlish bloom, which
caused the retiring Mrs. Markle to exclaim in fretful amazement.
That lady's large, flaccid countenance had assumed a peculiar,
olive-green tint which the glaring electric lights in her cabin
accentuated to an unpleasant ghastliness. She was very short in her
communications with Jane in the brief interviews which took place each
day after luncheon.
"You spik to anyone since I see you--_n'est-ce-pas_?" she would demand,
staring eagerly at Jane from the midst of her pillows. "_Non? Tres
bien!_ say nossing to womans asking questions; to mens, nossing. I
ha-a-te zem all."
"But no one has spoken to me, except to say 'good morning' at the
table," Jane made haste to assure her.
"Alright--_tres bien_," muttered Mrs. Markle. "Go now--_vite_! and
to-morrow--no, next day, we come in port. Zen I tell you one leetle sing
you do for me."
"I have done nothing for you yet," replied Jane, in genuine distress.
"Would you not like me to read aloud to you for a while, or bathe your
head with cologne? I should be so glad to do something to make you
comfortable."
But Mrs. Markle waved her aside with a fretful motion of her dingy,
jeweled hands. "Go; make ze voyage as you like. I want nossing--nossing
till we come in port. Zen I say what you mus' do. A mos' leetle sing, I
tell you."
On the last day when the women passengers were beginning to look less
like rows of Egyptian mummies put out for an airing, and a buzz of
cheerful conversation pervaded the decks and cabins, Jane was astonished
to find Mrs. Markle sitting in her stateroom, fully dressed and
elaborately frizzled and coiffured, as on the day she had first seen
her.
"Oh, are you better? I am so glad!" exclaimed Jane. "Won't you come up
on deck for a while, and see all the people?"
"_Non!_" snorted Mrs. Markle. "I will not. I am not able to walk yet. I
am--what you call it--we-e-k from ze illness. Now leesten to _moi_, I
gif you your hat an' coat. Put zem on, an' leave ze fur wiz me. Zen stay
in cabin till ze customs officer comes aboard. You have no articles
dutiable--_non_?"
Jane stared at her in mute amazement. "I don't--know," she stammered.
"Have you di'mon's, watches, fezzers--laces--eh?" sneered Mrs. Markle,
"kid gloves, silks, bronzes--in your so leetle box?--_non_? Say so, zen;
when zey ask you. Zes so gra-a-nd United Sta-a-tes mek you
pay--_comprenez_?--for all such sings. An' see, before we land at ze
dock, you come back to me here. I s'all ask you to help wiz ze luggage."
But Jane was not asked to carry anything, when at last, the big ship
securely fast at her dock, the two prepared to go ashore.
"See, now, Jane," said Mrs. Markle, "zere is one leetle sing I wis' not
to lose--a so small package. Do you mek it safe inside your jacket, so
it be not lost for me. I haf no place to keep it. Do not take it out.
Say nossing to nobody. I gif you money ven you gif it safe to _moi_. Zen
in ze customs, you will go by your box in ze place marked 'B'; I mus'
stay in 'M.' After all is passed we go on. You haf nossing dutiable-- I
haf nossing; we are quick through. Zen we go to see ze so gr-r-and
sights in America--_oui_!"
Jane permitted the woman to fasten a flat package, securely wrapped in
soft paper, in the loose folds of her blouse. Then the two made their
way to the deck, and from thence across the gang plank into the great,
noisy place, where the luggage of the passengers was being rapidly
sorted into vast piles.
As Mrs. Markle had predicted, they seemed likely to be quickly passed
through the customhouse. Jane's modest luggage was thrown down almost at
her feet, and, following Mrs. Markle's careful directions, she at once
drew the attention of a waiting official to it.
The man gruffly demanded her keys; unlocked the trunk; rumpled its scant
contents with a perfunctory hand; replaced it; scribbled a cabalistic
design upon its lid with a piece of chalk. Then, as if moved by an after
thought, he turned to the girl who stood looking on.
"Have you anything dutiable about your person?" he asked sharply; "any
jewelry--laces--or such like?"
"I have my locket with my father's picture," confessed Jane, trembling,
"and mother's wedding ring; oh, sir, please don't take them away from
me. They'd be no good to anyone but me."
The man was gazing at her keenly. Something in his stern eyes reminded
Jane of the mysterious flat package Mrs. Markle had given into her
charge.
"And I have a--a small parcel, too," she faltered; "I don't know what is
in it."
"Give it to me; I'll soon tell you," said the man grimly.
"It doesn't belong to me, sir," added Jane, trembling still more as the
inspector's practiced fingers quickly undid the wrappings.
Then she stared in astonishment as the man shook out yards and yards of
costly, filmy lace.
"You didn't know what was in it--eh?"
"No, sir," said Jane.
"Where did you get it, miss?"
"The lady I am traveling with asked me to carry it for her," faltered
Jane. "Oh, but I mustn't lose it. You must give it to me directly. I am
sure it looks very valuable."
"You're right it does," said the man grimly. "I guess you'll have to
come with me, young woman, and we'll see what else you're carrying for
the lady."
"Oh, I've nothing else!" protested Jane, "and Mrs. Markle is waiting for
me; I see her now."
"Where?" demanded the official, keenly alert. "Point her out to me!"
"The large lady yonder with the long cloak--. Oh, she is looking at me
now! I am afraid she will be displeased about the lace. But of course, I
had to tell you when you asked me."
"Of course!" echoed the man, with a sneer, "the ladies are always
careful to tell me everything of the sort. Now, you'll go with this
woman; she'll look into your case. And I'll just step across and speak
to Mrs. Markle."
The next hour in Jane Blythe's history is best passed over in pitying
silence. At the end of it a pallid, tremulous girl was confronting a
stern-faced official to whom she related in detail the circumstances of
her short acquaintance with Mrs. Markle.
"She asked you to leave your hat and jacket in her cabin, did she?" he
interrupted sharply, at one point in the narrative.
"She said it was too thin for the sea," Jane told him. "She was very
kind and loaned me a warm cloak lined with fur."
"Did you notice anything peculiar about your own jacket when you put it
on to leave the ship?"
"No, sir," said Jane; "I was too much taken up with having reached
America to notice that it was thicker and lumpy in spots."
"It was very neatly done," put in the female inspector, whose name was
Forbes. "The woman had ample time during the voyage to quilt thousands
of dollars' worth of laces between the lining and the outside. It is
evidently an old game successfully played before this."
Then she stepped to one side to make room for a second inspector who
entered from the rear accompanied by Mrs. Markle herself, unbending and
majestic.
"I s'all complain of zis outra--a--ge! You s'all be arrest, _bêtes_,
animals--all!" announced Mrs. Markle in a shrill, high-pitched voice.
"Zere was nossing dutiable in my luggage--I was alright
_aussi_--_n'est-ce pas?_"
The woman inspector shrugged her shoulders. "I found nothing," she
agreed. "But--" She glanced expressively at Jane who had fixed her clear
hazel eyes reproachfully upon Mrs. Markle.
"Is this the person in whose employ you crossed from England?" demanded
the presiding official of Jane.
"Yes, sir, this is Mrs. Markle," replied Jane politely.
"_Lies!--all lies!_" snapped the stout woman. "Nevaire before have I
seen zis young woman. My name is Madame Melbrun. I dema-a-nd my release
_immediatement_. Zis adventuress is a stra-a-nger to _moi_; I have
nossing to do wiz her."
Jane's eyes opened wide with shocked surprise. "Oh!" she cried. "How can
you say that?"
Mrs. Markle had folded her fat hands across her capacious form with an
air of haughty innocence. She did not once look at Jane. "I have no
articles dutiable," she repeated. "I am first-class passenger--name
Madame Melbrun--you find it so on ze passenger list. I dem-a-and my
r-r-rights!"
"Let her go," ordered the presiding official, shrugging his shoulders,
"she's got us; but then we've got her, too."
Mrs. Markle swept out without so much as a glance in Jane's direction;
nevertheless that young person shivered a little as if conscious of the
woman's murderous thoughts.
The inspector was writing something in a ledger with a pen which
scratched sharply. He raised his eyes as the pen ceased its mordant
protest. "You may go," he said to Jane.
"Where may I go?" asked the girl piteously.
"Anywhere you like," returned the inspector briskly. "You are free.
Better keep out of Madame Melbrun's way, though. You owe her something
like five thousand dollars, and she'd like to collect. Better be more
careful in your choice of mistresses next time you hire out, young
woman."
The woman inspector looked pityingly at Jane. "You come with me," she
said. "I'll help you put your jacket together again."
Bertha Forbes was as good as her word, and better. When she found Jane
had no friends in America and little money, she took her to her own
boarding house in a narrow, dirty street near the North River pier, and
later introduced her to a reliable employment agency.
Jane was far too young and inexperienced in the ways of the great and
wicked city of New York to be suitably grateful for these kind offices;
but she thanked Miss Forbes warmly, even while she declined to follow
her later counsels.
"You'd better go back to your aunt," Miss Forbes had said grimly. "It
isn't pleasant to be snubbed by rich relatives, I'll admit, but it's far
better than--some other things I could tell you of; and I'll see to the
transportation."
Jane set her small white teeth. "I'll not go back to Aunt Agatha," she
murmured passionately. "I am strong--far stronger than I look. I can
work."
"Very good," said Bertha Forbes, who was merely a lonely, good-hearted
woman, when she was off duty. "I'll help you get a place."
But the stars in their courses seemed to fight against Jane. There were
numbers of persons indeed who were looking for a "refined young woman,
English preferred," to act as nursery governess; but, unluckily, the
refined and undeniably attractive Miss Blythe had no references beyond a
manly-looking scrawl of Bertha Forbes's composition, in which Jane was
described as being a young English woman known to the writer as a
well-educated person of good, moral character.
"I am afraid," said Jane, with an ingenuous blush, "that it hurts your
conscience to say all that about me, considering the circumstances of
our first acquaintance."
"No," said Miss Forbes, "my conscience is not of the abnormally
sensitive variety, in the first place; in the second, I am morally
certain that you are exactly what you say you are. But the truth is, my
good girl, that my convictions, while entirely satisfactory to myself,
will not hold water if it comes to investigating them, and the people
who are willing to pay well for having their children kept out of their
way are quite apt to investigate. It gives them an easy conscience, you
see."
Added to this unconvincing dimness of her immediate background was
Jane's ingrained habit of telling the truth upon occasions when an
elusive reticence would have been far more prudent.
One impulsive lady, it is true, was about to engage Jane out of hand,
being irresistibly attracted by her smile and manner. But before
concluding the matter she chanced to ask Miss Blythe why she had come to
America.
"I came to America," said Jane, endeavoring to be discreet "because I
was--very unhappy in England."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Mrs. Newport, scenting a mystery, "and why were you
unhappy in England?"
Jane was silent for a space. "I don't see why I should tell you," she
said at last, with a proud lifting of her little head; "my troubles
concerned no one but myself."
Mrs. Newport raised her eyebrows. "I must _insist_ upon knowing
everything about your past," she said conclusively, "else I cannot
engage you."
Jane arose with the air of a duchess in disguise. "Good morning, Mrs.
Newport," she said.
Bertha Forbes shook her head when she heard of this circumstance. "I'm
sorry you didn't see fit to tell the woman something about yourself,"
she said. "There is really nothing to be ashamed of in your story,
except the smuggling part--that I'd advise you to keep to yourself."
"No," said Jane stonily. "I have nothing to be ashamed of; but the fact
that I wish to work for my living does not give that woman, or any
other, the right to ask impertinent questions about my private affairs."
"Why, yes," disagreed Miss Forbes dryly; "it does. Mrs. Newport was
about to engage you to play the young mother to her three darlings,
while she golfed and motored and otherwise disported her fashionable
self; the very least she could do was to assure herself of your fitness
for the position. And this involved a knowledge of your Alpha as well as
your Omega; you see that; don't you?"
Being very far from stupid, Jane saw, and when, on the following day,
Mrs. Narragansett's housekeeper interviewed Miss Blythe, that young
person was prepared to be frank and open to the point of telling all her
pitiful little story.
"My name," she began, in response to Mrs. Pott's initial question, "is
Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe."
Mrs. Potts bestowed a supercilious glance upon the young person. "And
what was your last position as nursery governess?" she further demanded.
"I taught my cousins, Percy and Cecil Aubrey-Blythe, in London and at
Blythe Court."
"Indeed! And why did you leave that situation, _if_ you please?"
Jane drew a quick breath. "Must I answer that question?" she entreated,
blushing hotly, a circumstance which the experienced Mrs. Potts noted
with growing disfavor.
"You certainly must," that lady assured her with business-like coldness.
"I--I thought my aunt was unkind to me," faltered Jane, with every
appearance of guilt. "I was very much vexed with her and--and with my
Cousin Gwendolen, and so----"
"Your aunt's name, if you please? And you may also state the occasion
of her being unkind to you."
"My aunt's name is Lady Agatha Aubrey-Blythe," said Jane, endeavoring to
pull herself together with very little success. "She was unkind to me
because--because-- She accused me of-- No; I--I cannot tell you."
"It is quite unnecessary, Miss--Aubrey-Blythe," Mrs. Potts assured her,
with an unpleasant smile. "You are not, I am sure, a suitable person for
the situation. Good morning."
Jane wept a little when she confided this last failure to Bertha
Forbes's sympathizing ear. "I couldn't tell that woman what Aunt Agatha
said to me about Mr. Towle; now, could I?"
"She wouldn't have believed it, if you had," said Miss Forbes gruffly.
"Better try another tack," she added, still more gruffly. "Better yet,
go back to your uncle. He can't be a bad sort, from what you tell me."
"Uncle Robert? Oh, no! he is--he has never been unkind to me. I--I quite
love Uncle Robert; that is to say, I should love to love him, if he
would let me."
"Then you'll go back to England like a sensible girl; tell your uncle
you've made a fool of yourself, but you'll try not to do it again. Think
it over till to-morrow morning, and remember I'll take care of the
transportation."
Jane reflected upon this eminently sane proposition over night; then she
faced her new-found friend and advisor with a pale but determined face.
"Thank you for offering to pay my passage back to England," she said,
"but I really can't accept it. I couldn't face Aunt Agatha and Gwendolen
and--and the others. I'd rather scrub floors than to do that! Perhaps
I'll have to scrub in the end, for my money is almost gone."
Bertha Forbes stared at the girl speculatively. "If you will tell them
at the employment agency that you're willing to do house work, you'll
soon find a place," she said; "there are plenty of people who will hire
you to work in their houses, and ask few questions about your past. But
it's no fun to scrub floors, my young friend, unless the floors happen
to be your own. I never tried _that_ myself; but I've seen deluded young
women who seemed to think it a vastly agreeable pastime, if there was
only a young man in the case."
And this is how it came about that Miss Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe--just
two weeks from the time she informed the invisible forces of the
universe that things would have to change--found herself humbly seeking
entrance at the side door of a modest, detached villa, situated in a
modest, detached suburb of New York. "Things" had changed, indeed!