John Everett may, or may not, have been excusable for neglecting to
inform Jane Blythe of a matter which nearly concerned her, and which had
occupied his own attention for an hour or more that very day. The firm
of lawyers with whom he was associated--Messrs. Longstreet and Biddle,
to be exact--had received by the morning's post a letter from certain
London solicitors instructing them to advertise for, and otherwise
endeavor to locate the whereabouts of one Jane Evelyn Aubrey-Blythe, who
was known to have left England for America on or about April 6th of the
current year. Information regarding this person, who was otherwise
described as being young and of pleasing appearance and address, would
be thankfully received by Messrs. Thorn, Nagle & Noyes, attorneys and
counselors-at-law.
In pursuance of this desired end, John Everett had been deputed to
frame a suitable inquiry to be inserted in the public prints, and the
leading New York, Brooklyn, and Jersey City papers were presumably at
that moment setting the type for said notices. Just why Mrs. Belknap had
neglected to inform her brother of what she had been pleased to term
Jane's romantic but imaginary appellation, she could not afterwards
recall.
It was Bertha Forbes who finally brought John Everett's soaring thoughts
to earth again, when he presented himself at her lodgings as the escort
of Jane on that memorable rainy evening in May. Miss Forbes was
officially crisp and cogent in her manner at first; but thawed
perceptibly when the two took her wholly into their confidence.
Jane had appeared quite unmoved by the news of the legal inquiry which
concerned itself so particularly with her person.
"It will be Uncle Robert," she said calmly. "I suppose he has been
frightfully annoyed at my disappearance--and Aunt Agatha, too. But,"
she added, with a fleeting glance at her lover, "I'm glad I ran away."
"So am I!" echoed John Everett fervently.
Bertha Forbes caught herself smiling. "Such foolish escapades frequently
turn out quite otherwise," she said severely. "The question--now that
this young person has been 'found,' so to speak--is what do Messrs.
Thorn, Nagle & Noyes want with her?"
"They wish me to return to England--to Aunt Agatha," Jane was positive.
"You'll not go, Jane," whispered John Everett.
Bertha Forbes caught the whisper. "She may be obliged to go," she said
curtly. "You must leave her for the present, young man, in my care.
Communicate with your London lawyers and find out the particulars. Your
plans for Jane's future are so extremely recent that they will bear
deferring a bit, I fancy."
When John Everett went away at last, after bidding his sweetheart good
night under the coldly impersonal eyes of Miss Forbes, he walked on
air. And for exactly six days thereafter he was the happiest man on
earth. On the seventh day arrived a cablegram from Messrs. Thorn, Nagle
& Noyes, which read as follows: "Return Aubrey-Blythe next steamer. Sole
heir to uncle's estate."
Jane shook her head when she heard this.
"Impossible," she said at first. "I have no uncle except Uncle Robert."
Later she recalled the dim memory of a younger brother, one Foxhall
Aubrey-Blythe, a wild scapegrace of a fellow, who had been bred to the
army, sent to South Africa in the Zulu wars, and lost sight of by his
family. "It was thought," she said soberly, "that he was killed, though
his death was never reported in the despatches. He was officially
starred and labeled 'missing'."
"He has evidently turned up again," said John Everett gloomily. "That is
to say, he has been heard of again as rich and dead; and you are his
heiress."
"It may not be much," said Jane Blythe thoughtfully. "I suppose," she
added, "that I must go back to England. But I shall not stay there."
Then she looked at John Everett. He was staring sternly at the toe of
his boot, a most unhappy expression clouding his handsome face.
"You--don't like it--John?" she faltered, with an adorable little quaver
in her clear voice.
He avoided her eyes. "I--ought not to have spoken to you as I did that
night," he said at last. "Jane, I don't know what you will think of me.
I--knew that the inquiry had been set on foot when I rushed out after
you. I meant to have told you--_that_. But when I saw you--" He paused
to groan aloud, then went on hurriedly: "I forgot all about that
confounded letter from Thorn, Nagle & Noyes; I forgot everything except
that I had found you. I was so sorry for you, dear, and so angry with my
sister, and--well, I've come to the conclusion that I made a confounded
fool of myself, Jane. Can you--can you forgive me?"
Jane's happy face had paled during this halting monologue. "I'm afraid
I don't--understand," she said in a low voice. "Do you--mean that you
are sorry you--told me----"
"I ought to have waited," he said doggedly.
"And if you had--waited?" she asked breathlessly.
He raised his unhappy eyes to hers. "If you had gone back to England
free and rich you would have been glad to forget America and all your
unhappy experiences here; wouldn't you, Jane? Why, when I think that I
have actually sat still and allowed you to hand me my coffee of a
morning I--I hate myself!"
"I hope," said English Jane tranquilly, "that I shall be allowed to hand
you your coffee a great many mornings. Every morning, in fact, after
we--." A great wave of lovely color rolled gloriously over her fair
face. "O John!" she whispered, "didn't you mean it when you told me that
you loved me?"
"Didn't I _mean_ it?" he echoed. "Well, I should say I did!" And he
looked it, to her complete satisfaction. "But----"
"You loved me when all the world despised me," murmured Jane. "I shall
never forget that. Besides," she added shyly, "I--love you, and it would
break my heart to----"
"Darling!" exclaimed John Everett. "Then we'll be married to-morrow. For
to tell you the truth, Jane, I'm downright afraid to let you go back to
England alone."
Of course this ridiculously hasty decision of John Everett's had to be
severely modified and reconstructed by the various ladies nearly
concerned in the case. Bertha Forbes, for one, immediately took a hand
in the affair and pooh-poohed the notion of such unseemly haste.
"What do you know about this young man, anyhow, that you should be
willing to marry him out of hand in this mad fashion?" she demanded with
decided acrimony.
"I love him," Jane replied, with stubborn tranquillity. "I shall never
love anyone else," she added confidently.
"What about Mr. Towle?" inquired Bertha coolly.
"Mr. Towle!" echoed Jane, with an air of extreme surprise. "What, pray,
has Mr. Towle to do with it?"
"Isn't he a lover of yours?"
"I'm sure I can't help _that_," pouted Jane, with a shrug of her slim
shoulders. "He is ages older than I am, and besides----"
"Well," grunted Miss Forbes, "go on; what other crimes has he
committed?"
"Of course he can't help being bald, poor man. But, Bertha, he came to
see me one day at Mrs. Belknap's; I can never forgive him for that.
Fancy his waiting in the kitchen, and being sent away--like a--like a
butcher's boy! But that wasn't enough, even; he came back and persisted
in talking to me on the kitchen porch. Do you know if it hadn't been for
Buster interrupting, just as he did, I actually believe I should
have--that is, I _might_ have--and only think, Bertha, how _horrible_
that would have been! No; he shouldn't have come. I shall always think
so."
Miss Forbes stared meditatively at the girl for a long minute; then she
burst into what Jane was disposed to regard as unreasoning laughter of
the variety which was once sapiently characterized as "the crackling of
thorns under a pot."
"I can't see," observed Jane, very grave and dignified, "why you should
laugh. There was nothing to laugh about in what I said."
Miss Forbes instantly grew sober. "Heaven forfend that you should ever
see, my dear child," she observed in a grandmotherly tone, "and far be
it from me to attempt an explanation! Suppose we talk about clothes,
instead. And--how will you ever go to work to metamorphose that late
imperious mistress of yours into a fond sister-in-law?"
But Mrs. Belknap came to the front full of tears and handsome apologies
and congratulations, all mixed up with embarrassed blushes and smiles,
and wouldn't dear Jane forgive her, and in token thereof be married from
her house?
Jane was inclined to be a trifle stiff with her prospective
sister-in-law at first. Recent memories were far too poignant to admit
of the new relationship with real cordiality. But she relented
perceptibly when Master Belknap flung himself upon her with glad cries
of joy.
"I yuve my Jane!" he cooed confidentially. "I'm doin' to div' oo my
fwannel el'phunt an'--an' my wed bwocks, if 'oo won't cwi any more,
Jane."
"You must call her Aunt Jane now, Buster," observed his uncle, who was
watching the scene with an air of proud proprietorship.
"I yuve my Aunt Jane," amended the infant docilely. Then, eyeing his
male relative with a searching gaze, "Have you dot any choc'late dwops,
Uncle Jack?"
Jane laughed outright at this.
"You'll come; won't you, dear Jane?" pleaded Mrs. Belknap, seizing the
auspicious moment.
"I'm afraid Mary MacGrotty would----"
"She's gone, thank Heaven!" exclaimed Mrs. Belknap with a shudder. "I
haven't a soul in the house."
"And I can't cook, you know," murmured Jane teasingly, as she hid her
blushing face on the infant's small shoulders.
"Don't rub it in, Jane," advised Mr. Belknap urgently. "We'll have a
caterer and everything shipshape. Later, though, when you're back from
England you'll do well to let Madge here give you some cooking lessons.
Buster and I would have starved to death long ago if we hadn't been able
to keep our cook; wouldn't we, old fellow?" And he tossed his son and
heir high above his head amid a burst of infant exuberance.
And so it was finally settled. The excellent Bertha Forbes handed over
her official duties to an underling for a whole week, while she shopped
and sewed and fetched and carried for Jane with an untiring devotion,
which earned that small person's lasting gratitude and friendship. On
the day of the simple home wedding Miss Forbes stood up, tall and
grenadier-like, bearing the bride's bouquet, with so uncompromising an
air and manner that Master Belknap actually desisted from three several
pieces of mischief while he gazed solemnly at her with large, round
eyes.
When the last flutter of pearl-gray veil and white handkerchief had
faded from view on the deck of the retreating steamer, Miss Forbes wiped
her eyes openly. "I'm glad she's gone," she said sternly. "She ought
never to have come."
"If Miss Jane Aubrey-Blythe had not entered this port with five thousand
dollars of lace upon her person, she would not now be leaving it under
such happy auspices," observed Mr. Belknap mildly. "And that, Miss
Forbes, would be on the whole, a regrettable circumstance; don't you
agree with me?"
"Hum!" said Bertha Forbes, rather shamefacedly, "I bought in some of
that very lace at a customhouse sale. It was that which trimmed her
wedding dress. I thought"--firmly--"that it was no more than right."
Mr. Belknap cast an admiring glance at the lady. "Miss Forbes," he said
feelingly, "your sense of poetic justice does you credit; it does
indeed. I hope we shall see a lot of you in the future. Our house on
Staten Island is always open to you."
"Thanks," said Bertha Forbes gruffly. But she shook hands with right
manly heartiness when she took leave of the little party on the dock,
and she actually kissed the infant, while depositing an unwholesomely
large box of confectionery in the pocket of his coat. "It is a shame to
call this child _Buster_," said Miss Forbes. "I detest the name myself;
think it exerts a positively demoralizing influence on the character.
_I_ shall call him Everett in future."
And she did so on the numerous pleasant occasions when she visited the
Belknap family.
As for Master Everett, thus happily restored to his rightful
appellation, he actually came to adore Miss Forbes, and called her his
"dear old Berfa," to her immense delight and satisfaction.