STILL A MYSTERY.
At the head of the stairway she paused for a moment to collect herself
before passing down and out into the street. What she had left behind
her was of a nature well fitted to excite emotion, and her bosom rose
and fell with a gentle tenderness and pity. But she had learned self
control in the school of experience, and her delay was a brief one.
Mastering her emotions, she walked steadily down the two flights of
stairs, opened the front door for herself, and was just about to cross
the threshold when a man entered. The light of the street lamp fell
full upon his face. It was the face of the man whose mysterious
disappearance five years before had created such a profound sensation
throughout Western Canada. There was no possibility of mistaking it,
though it was greatly changed for the worse. Five years had wrought
terrible havoc upon it. The scar on the left cheek was more conspicuous
than of yore, and the features seemed to have settled into a perpetual
frown. But, worst of all, the countenance was bloated and besotted. The
nose had become bulbous and spongy, the eyes watery and weak. The man's
clothes were patched and seedy, and presented a general aspect of being
desperately out at elbows. His unsteady step indicated that he was at
least half drunk at that moment. He did not see; or at any rate did not
take any notice of the woman who gazed into his face so intently. As he
staggered on his way upstairs he stumbled and narrowly escaped falling.
Could it be possible that this disreputable object was the man whom she
had once loved as her husband? She shuddered as she passed out on to
the pavement. Truly, his sin had found him out.
She had no difficulty in finding her way back to the hotel, without
asking questions of anybody. Upon reaching it she conferred for a
moment with the office clerk, and then passed up to a small general
sitting-room where she found her father. The old gentleman was
beginning to be anxious at her long absence.
"Well, father, I find there is an express for Suspension Bridge at
midnight. I think we had better take it. It is now half-past ten. I
have learned all I wanted to know, and there is no use for us to stay
here on expense. But perhaps you are tired, and would like a night's
rest."
"Found out all you wanted to know? Do you mean to say you have seen
him?"
"Yes, and I never wish to see or hear of him again in this world. Don't
question me now. I will tell you all before we get home, and after that
I hope you will never mention his name in my presence. When shall we
start?"
Finding her really anxious to be gone, the old man assented to her
proposition, and they started on their way homeward by the midnight
train. They reached Millbrook in due course, the father having
meanwhile been informed of all that his daughter had to tell him.
Savareen's disappearance remained as profound a mystery to them as
ever, but it had at any rate been made clear that he had absconded of
his own free will, and that in doing so he must have exercised a good
deal of shrewdness and cunning.
The question as to how far it was advisable to take the public into
their confidence exercised the judgment of both father and daughter.
The conclusion arrived at was that as little as possible should be said
about the matter. Their errand to New York was already known, and could
not be wholly ignored. The fact of Savareen's existence would have to
be admitted. It would inevitably be chronicled by the _Sentinel_,
and the record would be transferred to the columns of other newspapers.
The subject would be discussed among the local quidnuncs, and the
excitement of five years since would to some extent be revived. All
this must naturally be expected, and would have to be endured as best
it might; but it was resolved that people should not be encouraged to
ask questions, and that they should be made to understand that the
topic was not an agreeable one to the persons immediately concerned. It
might reasonably be hoped that gossip would sooner or later wear itself
out. For the present it would be desirable for Mrs. Savareen to keep
within doors, and to hold as little communication with her neighbors as
possible.
This programme was strictly adhered to, and everything turned out
precisely as had been expected. Mr. Haskins reached Millbrook on his
way home to Tennessee within a day or two after the return of father
and daughter from New York. He was informed by the father that Randall
and Savareen were identical, but that the family wished to suppress all
talk about the affair as far as possible. He took the hint, and
departed on his way homeward, without seeking to probe further into
matters in which he had no personal concern.
It was hardly to be supposed, however, that the local population would
show equal forbearance. Curiosity was widespread, and was not to be
suppressed from a mere sentiment of delicacy. No sooner did it become
known that the father and daughter had returned than the former was
importuned by numerous friends and acquaintances to disclose the result
of his journey. He so far responded to these importunities as to admit
that the missing man was living in the States under an assumed name,
but he added that neither his daughter nor himself was inclined to talk
about the matter. He said in effect: "My daughter's burden is a heavy
one to bear, and any one who has any consideration for either her or me
will never mention the matter in the presence of either of us. Anyone
who does so will thereby forfeit all right to be regarded as a friend
or well-wisher." This did not silence gossiping tongues, but it at
least prevented them from propounding their questions directly to
himself. He was promptly interviewed by the editor of the
_Sentinel_, who received exactly the same information as other
people, and no more. The next number of the paper contained a leading
article on the subject, in which the silence of Mrs. Savareen and her
father was animadverted upon. The public, it was said, were entitled to
be told all that there was to tell. Savareen's disappearance had long
since become public property, and the family were not justified in
withholding any information which might tend to throw light on that
dark subject. This article was freely copied by other papers, and for
several weeks the topic was kept conspicuously before the little world
of western Canada. Nowhere was the interest in the subject more keenly
manifested than at the Royal Oak, where it furnished the theme of
frequent and all-but-interminable discussion. Not a day passed but mine
host Lapierre publicly congratulated himself upon his acumen in having
all along believed and declared that Savareen was still in the land of
the living. This landlord shared the prevalent opinion that the family
should be more communicative. "I haf always," said he, "peen a coot
frient to Mrs. Safareen. I respect her fery mooch, put I think she
might let us know sometings more apout her discoferies in New York."
Scores of other persons harped to the same monotonous tune. But father
and daughter submitted to this as to a necessary penalty of their
situation, and by degrees the excitement quieted down. I am not
prepared to say whether the stepmother received further enlightenment
than other people, but if she did she kept her tongue between her teeth
like a sensible woman. As for Mrs. Savareen herself, she consistently
refrained from speaking on the subject to anyone, and even the most
inveterate gossips showed sufficient respect for her feelings to ask
her no questions. She held the even tenor of her way, doing her work
and maintaining herself as usual, but she lived a secluded life, and
was seldom seen outside her own house.
Thus, several months passed away without the occurrence of any event
worthy of being recorded. The mystery of Savareen's disappearance
remained a mystery still. But the time was approaching when all that
had so long been dark was to be made clear, and when the strange
problem of five years before was to be solved.