In the afternoon of the miserable day which had begun in this wise, Fred
was sitting alone, trying to come to some conclusion in the crowd of his
unhappy thoughts. His mother had been able to rest after her agitation,
and sleep, but had sent for him again early to ask for his father--where
he was in the meantime, and when he was coming home? It had better, she
thought, be got over as quietly as possible, and all the friends
informed. Mr. Wedderburn was always fond of Robert: he would take it
very quietly; he would see that the less said the better for all
parties. Her mind was full of these thoughts. She had arranged
everything in her mind. There would be much to forgive--on both
sides--which perhaps on the whole was better than had it been entirely
on one. As for business matters, Mrs. Dalyell was aware there must be
troubles; but fortunately this was not her share of the business. Robert
and Mr. Wedderburn would settle these things. It all seemed so simple
as she put it, that Fred withdrew again with a sort of artificial calm
in his spirit, but had no sooner been alone for ten minutes than the
hurlyburly began over again. What was he to do? Inform the insurance
companies? But what could be done to raise the necessary money? Throw
Yalton into the market--or what? Anyhow, it must be ruin, whether the
father came home or disappeared again; anyhow, his own happy career was
over, and nothing but trouble was to come.
In the meantime he did not know where his father was, or what had become
of him, and he had not yet the courage to question Janet, who no doubt
knew. Janet was at the bottom of it all. For all he could tell, it might
be she who had first suggested that dreadful expedient out of which all
this misery came. Oh! had the family been but ruined honestly,
naturally, two years ago! Fred felt, like a child, that it must be that
wretched old woman’s fault all through, and he could not subdue his mind
to the extent of asking her for information. It would come, he felt
sure, in good time.
And so it did: that afternoon Foggo entered the library where his young
master was sitting, with a very mysterious air, and informed him that
there was “one” who desired to speak with him. Fred’s heart leapt to his
mouth, for his thoughts were bent solely on his father, and it seemed
certain that it could be no other than he.
“A gentleman,” he added faintly, “with a beard?” It was the only
description he could venture upon.
“No, Mr. Fred, not a gentleman at all--John Saunderson from the ‘Dun
Cow.’”
“John Saunderson from the ‘Dun Cow’?”
“It was to speak about something that had happened. He said that if the
young laird would have the kindness to step out at the gate--he’s no
just in trim for a grand house, and he would like to speak to yourself
in a private way.”
“Bring him here, then, Foggo.”
“No, Mr. Fred: he would take it far kinder if you would just step out to
the gate.”
And this was what Fred finally did. He found the landlord of the “Dun
Cow” exceedingly embarrassed, not knowing how to begin his story. He
took off his blue bonnet at the sight of Fred, and began to twirl it
round and round in his hands.
“It’s about an accident that’s happened,” said John.
“Do you want me to do anything? I’m very much occupied; if it’s anything
Foggo could do----”
“Na, it’s not Foggo I want” (he said Foggy, after the fashion of his
locality), “it’s just yoursel’. There was a gentleman came to lodge in
my house last night. We whiles get a stranger--that’s not very
particular.”
“A gentleman?”
“A gentleman with a beard.” The man eyed Fred very closely, who did not
know what to reply.
“Yes,” he said, with a little catch of his breath, “and what then?”
“The gentleman must have gone down, so far as we can see, very early to
take a bath in the sea. Nobody heard him go out. My own idea is he never
was in after he got his supper. He first went to the door for a smoke,
and my impression is----”
“What happened?” said Fred. His mouth was so dry he could scarcely
speak.
“He must have gone into the sea to take a bath awfu’ early in the
morning, before we were up. The wife she thought she heard a cry about
four o’clock, and I got up, for she gave me no peace, and looked about
and saw nothing. But later there was one came running and said a man’s
clo’es were on the sands, close by some rocks--just for all the world as
they were that time, ye mind, Mr. D’yell, when your father was lost. I
just took to my heels and ran all the way to the sands. And there was
his clo’es, sure enough.”
“The man?” Fred gasped again.
“They got him after a bittie, with his hands clasped full of the
seaweed, and his knee raised up upon a rock. He must have made a fight,
poor gentleman, for his life. Na, I see what you are thinking: it was
nae suicide. He had got up his knee upon a bit of rock, and his hands
were full of the weeds--nasty slimy unprofitable things.” There was a
pause, and the man lowered his voice a little significantly before he
said, “I would like much, Mr. Frederick, if you would come down and see
him.”
Fred was not able to speak. He shrank more than he could say from this
dreadful sight. He shook his head in the impulse of his panic and
horror.
“Sir,” said the man, “I’ve known your father, Mr. Robert D’yell, Yalton,
man and boy, for more than forty year. If I didna know he had been
drowned two years ago I would say yon was him.”
It was with difficulty Fred found his voice: “I think that I know who it
was. It was a--near relation.”
“Ah, I can well believe that,” said John Saunderson. He was something of
a genealogist himself, as so many people of his class are in country
life, and he threw a hasty backward glance over the scions of the house
of Yalton, which he had known all his life, and settled within himself
that there was no such near relation, no cousin that ever he had heard
of. He did not say this, nor his own profound conviction as to the
drowned man.
“A man,” said Fred, “that we had thought to be dead--for years. He
frightened my mother with the likeness you speak of, and I am afraid he
did not get a good reception. Oh, Saunderson, you are sure it was not a
suicide?”
“So far as I could judge--no. I am not surprised,” said Saunderson,
“that the mistress was terrified. It gave me a kind of a shock. ‘Lord
bless me,’ I said, and then I just held my peace, for I would not be one
to raise a scandal on the house of Yalton. But my ostler, confound him,
has a long tongue.”
“I’m much obliged to you,” said Fred. “I’ll come down.”
And there he saw, on the poor bed in the “Dun Cow,” surrounded by the
few rustic houses about, all excited and discussing the tragedy, his
father, at last hushed and safe, seized by the death which he had
cheated once, but could not cheat a second time. The dreadful drowning
look had departed from his face; he lay tranquil and calm, like a man
who had died in his bed, who had never wronged either man or woman. Whom
had he wronged? Perhaps the insurance companies--no one else. And Fred
at length came to the conclusion that there was now no occasion to
disturb the insurance companies. It had come to pass at last--the event
which had been supposed to be accomplished long ago. There was no reason
now for the confession he had intended, no need to expose his father’s
deception, to betray the secret of the house. Fred could scarcely
reconcile himself to the fact that this was so. It cost him a great deal
of trouble to make up his mind that his business now--now that all was
over, and his father gone for ever--was to be silent for ever. Mr.
Wedderburn had been summoned, and this was his advice, as well as the
almost imperious command of Fred’s mother. To throw a stain upon her
husband’s name was intolerable to Mrs. Dalyell--to attract attention to
the house and explain its secret history. She said, with tears, yet with
indignation, that it should not, it must not be. And old Pat Wedderburn,
who was strangely moved by the story, and who said not a word in blame
of his friend, supported her strongly. “They would have had to give the
money now, if not then,” he said, “and it’s not your part to open the
question. Let it alone. Let him rest in his grave at last--poor Bob! And
I hope in my presence no one will ever say an ill word of Bob D’yell.”
There was a tear in the old lawyer’s eye. Perhaps he understood it best
of the three, though the other two were wife and son. Fred’s statement
that the drowned man was a relation made it possible to lay him in the
Yalton vault after all--his last and rightful home. Who the other was,
who had received that sad hospitality in the name of Robert Dalyell of
Yalton, they never knew, nor was it necessary to inquire.
Somehow, however, there was no more question of Mrs. Dalyell’s marriage.
Neither bride or bridegroom ever spoke of it again. And Mr. Wedderburn
resumed something of the old easy relations after a while, and presided
at Susie’s marriage, and was the best friend of the house, as he had
always been. It was a conclusion which on the whole they all felt to be
the best.
THE END.
* * * * *
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