THE LAND OF GOLDEN DREAMS
When he returned to life he was in his mother's arms. There were
familiar faces round him, and, as out of a mist, familiar voices
sounded in his ear.
He turned in his bed--for it was on a bed he was lying, and no longer
on the stony ground--and opened his eyes, waking as from a delicious
slumber.
Some one bent over him; some one laid a hand softly on his brow; some
one's burning tears fell on his cheek. There was his mother standing
by his side.
"My boy! my boy! Thank God for this, my darling boy!"
Then she kissed him; and she wept.
Out of the mist there came another familiar form. It was his father.
"Bertie! at last! Thank God for this, indeed, my son!"
And he, too, stooped and kissed the lad. And the mother rose to her
feet, and became encircled in her husband's arms; and they two
rejoiced together over the son who was lost and was found.
He had been ill six weeks. Six weeks delirious with fever; six weeks
hovering between life and death; six weeks' sorrow; six weeks' pain.
That was the end of his journey.
And it would have had another ending had it not been for the
providence of God. He would have journeyed into that strange, unknown
country, whose name is Death, but that he was found by the roadside,
where he had fallen, and by a friend. It would be unwise to say that
that friend was not sent to him direct from God.
Among his father's patients was a certain Mr. Yates. Mr. Yates was a
county magistrate, a man of position and of wealth. Under God he owed
his life to Dr. Bailey's skill. It was to him reference has been made
as having given Bertie half a sovereign once upon a time--half a
sovereign which, to Bertie's disgust, he had had to divide with his
brothers and sisters.
Mr. Yates had known the youngster well. He was a bachelor, and had
allowed the boy to run in and out almost as he pleased. On the eve of
starting on a tour to Brittany he had heard that the young gentleman
had disappeared from school, no one knew why, no one knew whither.
There was a pretty to-do when it was known. It was almost the last
straw for Mr. Fletcher, that last straw which, according to the
proverb, breaks the camel's back.
In his bewilderment--in the general bewilderment, indeed--Dr. Bailey
had not hesitated to lay his son's disappearance at Mr. Fletcher's
door. He declared that he was alone to blame, that some act of
remissness, some act of even positive cruelty must have goaded the lad
into taking such a step.
The boy had left no trace behind. The distracted father advertised for
him right and left, placed the matter in the hands of the police,
seeking for him on every side without finding the slightest clue to
tell him if his son were alive or dead.
Matters were in this state when Mr. Yates had left for Brittany. He
had been there some days, when, wandering somewhat out of the beaten
track, he had chartered a carriage at Morlaix to take him up among
those wind-swept slopes which are grandiloquently termed the Montagnes
d'Arree, and land him at the little town of Huelgoet. There are one or
two things which people go to see at Huelgoet, but the place became
memorable to Mr. Yates for what he saw upon the road.
He was about half-way to his destination when he observed, lying among
the furze at the roadside, a lad. He might not have noticed him had
not the boy been emitting cries of so peculiar a kind that they could
scarcely have failed to catch a traveller's ear. Going to see what was
the matter, he perceived at once that the lad was delirious with
fever.
With some difficulty he persuaded the driver of the vehicle to convey
so dubious a passenger. The same difficulty occurred at the Huelgoet
hotel before they would let him in. It was only when he had undertaken
to recoup them for any losses they might sustain, and had got the lad
comfortably in bed, that he discovered that the waif who had found in
him such a good Samaritan was none other than Bertie Bailey.
* * * * *
So soon as they could move him they took him home. And, as he entered
the old familiar home, he knew in his heart that this place which he
was entering was in fact the Land of Golden Dreams. He had been in
search of it afar off, and he had been a native of the country all the
time. And there are many natives of that country who throw away the
substance to grasp the shadow, not realizing their folly till the
thing is done.
* * * * *
They never found the "captain" nor "Mr. Rosenheim." In due time Bertie
told his story, and the doctor thought it so strange an one that he
felt in duty bound to communicate with the police. A detective came
and heard all that Bertie had to say. He asked a hundred puzzling
questions; but, although not always able to answer them to the
detective's satisfaction, Bertie stuck to his tale. They took him to
point out the house which had contained the "captain's room," but he
had been a stranger in the great city, at night, hungry and worn. He
had gone blindly where he had been taken, not noticing a single
landmark by the way, and now when they asked him to retrace his steps,
and lead them where Freddy had led him, he found it impossible to
discover the house again.
So it came to pass that the police looked at his story with doubtful
eyes. And for that cause--or some other--nothing has been heard of the
Countess of Ferndale's jewels unto this day.
* * * * *
Butler & Tanner, The Selwood Printing Works, Frome, and London.