FORTUNE.
Uncle William took the children straight up to London. They spent the
night at a great big hotel, and in the morning he went alone to have a
long consultation with one of the best detectives in New Scotland
Yard. When he returned after this interview, Iris came to meet him
with a wise look on her face.
"I know what to do," she exclaimed.
"Well, then, my dear, it's more than I do," replied Uncle William.
"It's the only thing," repeated Iris. "Let's go straight home."
"Home? Do you mean to the Rectory? Why, we have just come from there."
"I don't mean the Rectory. I mean our real home," answered Iris.
"Let's get back at once to Delaney Manor."
"I don't see much use in that," answered Uncle William.
"It's all a feel I have inside of me," replied Iris. "Often and often
I get that feel, and whenever I obey it things come right. I have a
feel now that I shall be nearer to Diana and to Orion in the old
garden than anywhere else. I always try to obey my feel. Perhaps it's
silly, but I can't help it. Do you ever get that sort of feel inside
of you, Uncle William?"
"If I did," replied Uncle William, "your Aunt Jane would say that I
was the silliest old man she had ever come across."
"But you aren't, you know. You are a right good sort," answered
Apollo, in a patronizing tone.
"I am glad you think so, my boy," replied Uncle William. "Well, now,"
he added, "I always did hate London, and in the middle of summer it
seems to me that it is wanting in air. I once heard a countryman say
that he believed people only breathed turn about in London, and it
really seems something like that this morning. The place is so close
and so used-up that there is not a breath anywhere; so, Iris, if you
have got that feel, and if you will promise not to tell your Aunt Jane
that _that_ is your reason for returning to the Manor, why, we may
just as well do so--only, I suppose, the place is all shut up."
"Fortune, at any rate, is there," replied Iris; "and if anybody can
help us to find Diana and Orion, it's Fortune; for she had them, you
know, Uncle William, from the moment the angel brought them down from
heaven. She had to do for them and nurse them, and tend them from that
moment until Aunt Jane took them away. Oh, yes!" continued Iris; "if
there is a person who will help us to find them, it's Fortune."
"She partakes of the strange names which seem to run in your family,"
answered Uncle William. "But there, it is as good an idea as any
other, and we shall at least each of us have our proper number of
breaths at Delaney Manor. That certainly is in favor of the scheme."
Accordingly, that very afternoon, Uncle William, Iris, and Apollo took
the train into Devonshire. They arrived at the Manor in the evening.
Nobody expected them, and the place looked, to Uncle William, at
least, very dull and desolate. But when Iris saw the quaint old
gateway, and when Apollo felt his feet once again upon the well-known
avenue, the sadness of heart which had oppressed both children seemed
to lift itself as if it had wings and fly right away.
"Let's go to the garden this very instant," exclaimed Iris, looking at
her brother.
They clasped each other's hands and, flying along the well-remembered
haunts, soon reached their favorite garden.
"Oh, Apollo! I live; I breathe again," said Iris, panting as she
spoke. "Oh, I am happy once more!"
"Let us see if anything has been injured while we were away," said
Apollo. "Oh, I wonder if anybody has watered our pretty gardens. I
planted a lot of mignonette the day before I went away. I wonder if it
has come up."
The children wandered about the garden. The dead-house was now empty;
the four little gardens looked sadly the worse for want of watering
and general looking after. The cemetery, however, looked much as
usual; so also did the greenswards of grass, the roses, the different
summer flowers; and finally Iris and Apollo visited the little
summer-house, and seated themselves on their own chairs.
"The garden has not run away," said Apollo. "That's a comfort. I'm
real glad of that."
"It's exactly like the garden of Eden," said Iris, panting as she
spoke. "I don't think anybody," she continued, "could be naughty in
this garden."
Apollo kicked his legs in a somewhat impatient manner.
"I feel dreadfully hungry, Iris," he said. "Suppose we go to the house
now and have some supper."
"Who is that coming down the walk?" said Iris.
It was dusk by this time, and in the little summer-house all was dark;
but Iris, as she spoke, sprang to her feet, and the next moment found
herself clasped in Fortune's motherly arms.
"My darling!" said the woman. "Why, it drives me near mad to see you
again. And now, what in the world is up with the two of you, and where
are the others? There's an elderly gentleman--a clergyman--in the
house, and he said I was to look for you here, and that you were going
to spend the night. What does it mean, Iris? Oh, my dear! I can't see
your face, for it is too dark; but you are very light. Why, you are no
weight at all, my honey."
"I expect I'm rather worn out," replied Iris, in her old-fashioned
tone. "You know, Fortune, when mother went away she told me to be a
mother to the others, and--oh, Fortune, Fortune! I have failed, I have
failed."
Iris' little arms were clasped tightly round her old nurse's neck; her
face was hidden against her bosom; her heavy sobs came thick and fast.
"Why, my poor dear, you are exactly like a feather," said Fortune; "it
aint to be expected that a young thing like you could be a mother. But
what's gone wrong, dearie? what's gone wrong?"
"They are lost. That's what has gone wrong," said Iris. "Orion and
Diana are lost, Fortune."
"Sakes alive, child! stand up and speak proper," said Fortune. "Your
little brother and sister lost! Impossible; you are joking me, Iris,
and that aint fair, seeing I was with you since you drew the breath
of life."
"Do you think I could joke upon such a subject?" said Iris. "You say I
am like a feather--that is because I have all wasted away from--from
fretting, from--from misery. Yes, Fortune, they are lost, and I wish I
were dead. I feel it here so dreadfully." The child pressed both her
hands against her heart. "I have not been a mother," she continued.
"Oh, Fortune! what is to be done?"
"You jest sit down on my lap and stop talking nonsense," said Fortune.
"Why, you are trembling like an aspen. You jest rest yourself a bit
alongside o' me. Now then, Master Apollo, tell me the whole truth,
from beginning to end. The two children lost? Now, I don't believe it,
and that's a fact."
"You'll have to believe it, Fortune," said Apollo, "for it's true.
They went out one day about a month ago--we think they must have gone
to some woods not far from that horrid Rectory, but nobody seems to
know for certain--and they just never came back. We missed them at
tea-time, and we began to look for 'em, and we went on looking from
that minute until now, and we have never found either of 'em. That's
about all. They are both quite lost. What I think," continued the
little boy, speaking in a wise tone, "is that Diana must have met the
great Diana of long ago, and gone right away with her, and perhaps
Orion has been turned into one of the stars that he's called after. I
don't really know what else to think," continued Apollo.
"Fudge!" said Fortune. "Don't you waste your time talking any more
such arrant nonsense. Now, the two of you are as cold and shivery as
can be, and I doubt not, as hungry also. Come straight away to the
house. This thing has got to be inquired into."
"Oh, Fortune! can you do anything?" asked Iris.
"Can I do anything?" said Fortune. "I have got to find those blessed
children, or my name's not Fortune Squeers. Did your mother bring me
all the way from America to be of no use in an emergency like the
present? You needn't fret any more, Iris; nor you either, Apollo. Just
come right along to the house and have your cozy, warm supper, the two
of you, and then let me undress you and put you into your old little
beds, and I'll sleep in the room alongside of you, and in the morning
we'll see about getting back those two children. Lost, is it? Not a
bit of it. They are mislaid, if you like, but lost they aint--not
while Fortune is above ground."
Fortune's strong words were of the greatest possible comfort to Iris.
It is true that Aunt Jane had told her somewhat the same, day by
day--Aunt Jane was also sure that the children were certain to be
found--but, as far as Iris could gather, she only spoke, and never did
anything to aid their recovery; for Iris had no faith in detectives,
nor secret police, nor any of the known dignitaries of the law. But
she put the greatest possible faith in the strong, cheery words of her
old nurse, and she returned to the house clasping Fortune's hand, and
feeling as if the worst of her troubles were at an end.
The greater part of Delaney Manor was shut up, and Fortune and two
other old servants were left in charge; but very soon a comfortable
meal was spread for the travelers, a room was provided for Uncle
William, and Iris and Apollo slept once more in the dear old nursery.
How very sound Iris did sleep that night! How happy she felt once
more!
Fortune had dragged in her bed, and laid it on the floor close to the
little girl's side, and the sound of Fortune's snores was the sweetest
music Iris had listened to for a long time.
"Fortune will find the others, and I can be a real mother once more,"
she whispered over and over to herself.
And so she slept sweetly and dreamed happily, and awoke in the morning
with color in her cheeks and hope in her eyes.