LUCE’S DISCOVERY
As Wynnette and Rosemary approached the drawing room they heard a sweet
confusion of laughing and talking within; which was explained as soon as
Wynnette had opened the door.
Le had just arrived, and was in the midst of his friends shaking hands,
hugging and kissing, asking and answering questions, all at once.
He rushed to Wynnette and Rosemary “at sight,” and gave them each a
hearty, brotherly embrace.
“Yes,” he continued, with something that he had been saying when the
girls came in—“yes, I have brought all the evidence we can possibly want
or use—an overwhelming mass of evidence as to the marriage of Angus
Anglesea and Ann Maria Wright at St. Sebastian, on August 1, 18—. That
is proved and established beyond all doubt or question.”
“As if anybody ever did doubt it. The Lord knows if ever I had thought
as any of you misdoubted as I was Anglesea’s lawful wedded wife, I
wouldn’t a-stayed in this house one hour. Not I!” indignantly protested
Mrs. Anglesea.
“No one ever did or ever could doubt that fact, my good lady,” said Mr.
Force, soothingly; “but there are captious people who will contest
things that they cannot doubt. And it is to meet such as these that we
must be armed with overwhelming evidence.”
Mrs. Anglesea was mollified, and presently inquired if Le had seen her
boys.
“I did not go to Wild Cats’ Gulch, dear Mrs. Anglesea,” replied Le.
“‘Didn’t go!’ But you wrote as you was a-going!” exclaimed the lady from
that section.
“Yes, and so I was. But on the very day when I proposed to start
thither, on inquiring the best way to get there, I was referred to a man
who was said to have once lived at the place. So I went, and found the
referee to be a Mr. Joe Mullins, in the jewelry line of business.”
“Joe Mullins! My Joe! He in St. Sebastian! Do tell me now!” exclaimed
Mrs. Anglesea.
“Yes, there he was, healthy, happy and prosperous, keeping a jeweler’s
store, and living over it with his wife and two children!”
“Lord a mercy! Married, too!”
“Yes, and prosperous.”
“Well, well! And the other boys?”
Le looked solemn.
“‘Some gone east;
Some gone west;
And some rest
At Crow’s Nest,’”
ruefully answered the young man.
“And the camp’s broke up, as I thought it would be.”
“Yes, two years ago.”
“Well, it is some satisfaction to hear about Joe. And so now I won’t
interrupt of you no longer, as I dessay you have a heap to talk about
among your ownselves,” said Mrs. Anglesea, as she left the drawing room.
As soon as she was gone the family fell into more confidential
conversation.
“We shall sail for England in ten days,” said Mr. Force, “and with this
complete evidence of the Californian marriage in our possession we will,
on our arrival in the old country, seek out authentic evidence of the
exact date of Lady Mary Anglesea’s demise, which I fully believe to have
occurred in the August of some year previous to that of Col. Anglesea’s
marriage with the Widow Wright. When we shall find such evidence, as I
feel sure we shall, then there will be nothing wanting to prove that Ann
Maria Anglesea is the lawful wife of Angus Anglesea, and that Odalite
Force is, and has always been, free, and there need be nothing to
prevent your immediate union, my dear children.”
“May Heaven speed the day!” earnestly aspirated Le.
Much more was said on the subject that need not be repeated here.
Preparations for their voyage had been so long and systematically in
progress that the Forces had perfect leisure in the last week of their
stay at home.
The last day was devoted to the friends they were about to leave behind.
They started early on the morning of the twenty-third of May, and made a
round of farewell visits to all their old neighbors.
The last call they made was at Forest Rest, to take leave of Miss Sibby
Bayard.
“So you are ralely a-going to cross the high seas? I hardly believed it
on you, Abel Force!” she said, as she shook hands in turn with Mr. and
Mrs. Force, Le and the three girls, and gave them seats. “I thought as
you had more sense, Abel Force! I did that! Them as has the least to do
with the sea, sez I, comes the best off, sez I!”
“But, my good lady, necessity has no law, you know. We are obliged to
go,” laughed Mr. Force.
“What have you been up and doing of, old Abel, that you are obliged to
run away from your own native country? Nobody but outlaws, sez I, is
obliged to go off to furrin parts, sez I!”
Mr. Force found nothing to say to this.
Wynnette came to her father’s assistance.
“We shall visit, among other interesting places, Arundel Castle, the
seat of your ancestors for centuries past, Miss Sibby.”
“Hush, honey! You don’t say as you’ll go there?”
“As sure as the Lord permits us, we will, Miss Sibby.”
“And see it?”
“Yes, and see it.”
“With your own eyes?”
“Well, no,” gravely replied Wynnette, “not with our own eyes, because we
might have to stretch them too wide to take in a view of the great
stronghold of the great ducal house. We propose to hire some stout,
able-bodied eyes for the occasion!”
“And now you are laughing at me, Miss Wynnette! You are always laughing
heartiest inside when you’re a looking solemnest outside! But you ralely
are gwine to visit ’Rundel Cassil?”
“Yes. All tourists go there.”
“Well, well, well! Them as lives the longest, sez I, sees the most, sez
I. But little did I think as I should live to see any of my neighbors
going to visit ’Rundel Cassil!”
“We will bring you a guidebook with illustrations, descriptive of the
castle, and some relics and curiosities of the place. They are to be
had, I think.”
“Do, my child! I should prize ’em above everything. And now, Miss
Wynnette, you take a ole ’oman’s advice. Them as follows my advice, sez
I, never comes to no harm, sez I. Mind that, honey.”
“All right, Miss Sibby; fire away!—I mean proceed with your good
counsel.”
“Well, then, honey, I ain’t been that blind but I could see what was
a-goin’ on between a certain young gentleman and a certain young lady.”
Wynnette tacitly pleaded guilty by a deep blush.
“Now, honey, don’t you take it anyways amiss what I am a-gwine to say.
You’re gwine off to furrin parts. Now, honey, don’t you let any of them
there furrin colonels and counts and things fashionate you away from you
own dear sweetheart. He’s a good, true man, is Sam Grandiere, and a ole
neighbor’s son. Now you take my advice and be true to him, as he is sure
to be true to you. Them as breaks faith, sez I, is sure to pay for it,
sez I. There, now, I won’t say no more. When you’ve said all you’ve got
to say, sez I, it is time to stop, sez I.”
Mrs. Force now arose to take leave.
All her party kissed Miss Sibby good-by.
The old lady cried a little, and prayed: “God bless them.”
And so they parted.
Early the next morning the Forces left Mondreer, taking the dog, Joshua,
with them.
Wynnette had insisted on his coming.
“I promised him, papa,” she said—“I promised him; and it would be
playing it too low to go back on a dumb brute—oh! I mean, dear papa,
that it would seem base to break faith with a poor, confiding dog.”
So Joshua went.
“Look yere, ole woman,” said the lady from Wild Cats’, “I’m gwine to
take the best of care of your house while you’re gone, and I want you to
keep an eye on my rascal over yonder, while I keep a sharp lookout for
him over here. He can’t be in both places at once; but wherever he is he
will be at some deviltry—you may bet your pile on that.”
This was the lady’s last good-by to the departing family.
She watched the procession of three carriages that took them and all
their luggage to the railway station, where Rosemary Hedge was to be
brought by her mother and aunt to join them.
She watched them cross the lawn, and go out through the north gate, and
disappear up the wooded road.
And then she turned into the house to face the howling Luce.
“What on earth ails the woman?” demanded the housekeeper.
“Oh! dey’s gone ag’in!—dey’s gone ag’in! An’ dis time dey’s gone across
de ocean! I shall nebber see ’em ag’in!—nebber no mo’!—nebber no mo’!”
sobbed Lucy, sitting flat on the hall floor, and rocking her body back
and forth.
“Oh, yes you will. Don’t be a fool! Get up and go to work. Work’s the
best cure for trouble. Indeed, work’s the best cure for most
things—poverty, for instance.”
“It didn’t use to be so! It didn’t use to be so!” said Luce, continuing
to rock herself. “Dey nebber use to go ’way from year’s end to year’s
end! But now it’s got to be a habit dey gibs deirselbes—a berry habit
dey gibs deirselbes!”