CLEMENT'S QUEST.
It was only natural that Hermia's thoughts, since "Uncle John" had
revealed to her the story of her adoption, should revert times without
number to the mystery which enshrouded her birth and early years,
challenging it first from one point of view and then from another, but
only to give it up at last baffled and disheartened, and still, to all
seeming, no nearer than before to finding the hidden key. More and
more the possibility that she might still have a mother living became
a dominant factor in her thoughts. Might there not have been a score
of different reasons, she asked herself, why this mother should have
been compelled to put her child out among strangers? And might not the
same or other reasons still have force enough to keep her from
acknowledging her daughter, or even allowing the fact of her own
existence to become known? The more Hermia allowed her mind to dwell
on the image thus conjured up the more clearly did it--unconsciously
to the girl herself--assume by degrees an objective existence in her
thoughts, till at length it needed but little to induce her to
persuade herself that this mysterious parent was a being as real and
tangible as any of those she saw around her. It was strange, she
sometimes thought, that never had she yearned so much for a mother's
love as now, when that other love, so sweet and yet so widely
different, had taken her heart captive and held it beyond all power of
ransom.
Something of this Hermia confided to Clement in their many walks and
talks together--something, but not all, for in a maiden's heart there
are sacred chambers, the threshold of which, not even to her lover, is
it given to cross. But much of what she did not tell Clement, love's
fine intuition enabled him to divine. For one thing, he could see that
Hermia, without attaching paramount importance to the interdiction
which had been laid upon her, could not help secretly chafing under
it; as also that, in her own despite, the longing to unmask the secret
of her birth was becoming more importunate day by day. Thus it fell
out that, after a little while, Clement began to formulate a certain
scheme in his mind, and when once he saw his way clear, proceeded with
characteristic energy to arrange the preliminary steps for carrying it
out.
On a certain spring evening, when our two young people were alone
together, Clem said abruptly, and _apropos_ to nothing which had gone
before, "I don't think, dearest, that if you were to try till
to-morrow you could guess what I am going to do next week."
"In that case it would be foolish of me to try. But, of course, you
will experience a little sense of injury if, after this preliminary
flourish on your part, I omit to ask you what it is that you purpose
doing."
"On Tuesday next I shall leave home for a fortnight's holiday."
"Oh!" a little dubiously. "I was not aware that you are out of
health--you don't look it--and if you are fagged or worried with
overwork, you have kept your secret very carefully."
Clem tugged at his moustache and broke into a laugh.
"I was never better in my life than at this moment; and as for
overwork, if I had fifty more patients on my hands than I have, you
would not hear a murmur of complaint."
"But what about such patients as you have on your hands? Are you going
to give them a chance of recovering while you are away?"
"Not likely; that would never do. A friend of mine, Vallance by name,
who happens just now to be on the lookout for a practice of his own,
has offered to come and physic them during my absence."
"Well, I hope you will have fine weather and enjoy yourself, although
the majority of people, who, of course, don't know better, generally
defer their holidays till July or August."
"I am quite aware that you are dying to ask me my reasons for going
away at this time of year, only your pride won't let you do so."
"The self-conceit of some people is truly amazing. I curious to know
your reasons! What next, pray?"
"In any case, I'll take pity on you and tell you. Know, then, dearest,
that the first aim and object which I have set before me is to hunt up
that estimable but unaccountable person, Mr. Hodgson."
"To hunt up Mr. Hodgson?" gasped Hermia. "But for what purpose? What
will you gain by doing that?"
"Whether I shall gain anything or nothing time alone can tell. In any
case, when I have found him, I intend--metaphorically speaking--to
grip him by the throat, and bid him stand and deliver. In other words,
I mean to see what a personal interview will do towards wresting from
him that secret--or, if not the secret itself, some clue to it,
however faint--which I know you, my dear one, are so anxiously longing
to fathom."
Hermia did not speak, but her eyes flushed with tears.
"It is quite possible that the old boy, when I tell him who I am, may
refuse point-blank to discuss the matter with me. In that event I
can't say what I shall do, or what course may seem best for me to
follow. But the first thing to do is to find Mr. H. and tackle him."
"My poor boy!" replied Hermia, with a pitying smile. "You seem to have
forgotten one important fact, which is, that none of us, not even
Uncle John himself, is acquainted with Mr. Hodgson's address, or has
the remotest notion where to find him. Uncle's letter in reply to his
was simply addressed to the care of a certain firm of solicitors in
London. Of course, it is open to you to go to the firm in question,
and ask them to oblige you with Mr. Hodgson's address; but is it not
rather doubtful whether they would comply with your request?"
"Very doubtful, indeed," responded Clem, dryly. "So much so, that I
don't think I shall trouble myself to go near them. I've a better plan
than that for arriving at what I want to know."
Speaking thus he unbuttoned his coat, and from the breast-pocket drew
forth an unsealed envelope, from which he proceeded to extract a small
square of drawing-board, and then handed it to Hermia. On it was a
pen-and-ink sketch of a man's head in profile.
An exclamation of surprise broke from Hermia the moment she set eyes
on it.
"Why, it is Mr. Hodgson to the life!" she cried. "Aquiline nose, high
stock, pointed collar and spectacles--the very man himself! How did
this come into your possession, dear?"
"There's a pretty question to ask! I did think you would have
recognized my handiwork."
"Yours? You clever darling! Of course, I have known for a long
time--which means for a few months--that you can draw and paint--a
little; but I did not know that you could hit anyone off in this sort
of way."
"In the case of old Hodgson, you have only to draw his nose and chin
in outline, and you have the man himself."
"But I had not the least idea that you had ever seen Mr. Hodgson."
"Neither had I, till the occasion of his last visit. You told me when
he was expected, and I made it my business to look out for him and
have a good stare at him. The moment I got back home I sat down and
made the sketch I have just shown you."
"The likeness is unmistakable; but I fail to see of what use it will
be in enabling you to trace the original."
"As soon as I had finished my sketch I hurried off to the railway
station and sought out the station-master, to whom I am well known,
through having attended his wife last winter when she was ill. Handing
him the sketch I said, 'The original of this will leave here by train
in the course of a few hours from now. I want you to ascertain for me
to what station he books himself.' In the course of the evening I made
a point of seeing the station-master again. 'The old gentleman with
the remarkable nose,' he told me, 'had in his possession the second
half of a return ticket between Stavering and Ashdown, of which one of
my men had collected the first half earlier in the day.' Inquiry on my
part, my geographical knowledge being at fault, elicited the
information that Stavering is a small country town on the borders of
Derbyshire and Yorkshire. Having thus got firm hold of what I may call
link number one, I need scarcely inform so perspicacious a young
person as yourself that the first step in the voyage of discovery I
purpose taking will be to book myself to Stavering, and, once
there--as they say in boys' story-books--set to work to track the
miscreant to his lair."
"It seems to me that you are a dreadfully artful creature, far more
so, in fact, than I had any idea of," said Hermia, with a little toss
of her head; "but I daresay if you were to fail as a doctor, you might
perhaps find a situation on the detective force." But even while her
tongue was thus gently flouting him, her eyes were speaking a
different language, and one which by this time--so assiduous had been
his studies--Clem had learned to read like a book.
A few more days sufficed to complete Clem's preparations. Titus
Vallance came down from London, and was duly installed as his _locum
tenens_. Neither to his brother nor to John Brancker did he afford the
faintest hint that any object other than the need for change and rest
was taking him from home.
Next morning he set out for the North. By the last post of the
following day a letter from him reached Hermia. She was surprised and
delighted, not having expected one till next morning. She hurried to
her room, broke the seal, and kissed the enclosure again and again
before reading a single word.
After a few lines devoted to those sweet nothings which lovers delight
in when they write to each other, the letter went on as follows:
"And now, dear, prepare yourself for what will be to you both a
surprise and a disappointment. Mr. Hodgson is dead!
"It was late yesterday afternoon when I reached Stavering. It is a
town of but a few thousand inhabitants, and on inquiry I was told that
the one good hotel in the place is the 'King's Arms.' As you will see
by the heading of this letter, it is from there that I am now writing
to you.
"By the time I had done dinner it was nearly dark, and it would
evidently have been useless to set about anything till the morrow.
While turning matters over in my mind, with no company but my cigar,
it struck me that it might not be a bad plan to put a few questions to
the landlord of the hotel. If Mr. Hodgson were at all known in the
town he would be pretty sure to be in a position to supply me with his
address and perhaps, also, to give me some further information about
him, which might or might not prove of service to me.
"Accordingly, after breakfast this morning, I sought an interview with
mine host--a chatty, communicative middle-aged man, who has lived in
Stavering nearly all his life. It was from him I learned the fact of
Mr. Hodgson's demise; but, in order to make sure that his Mr. Hodgson
was the same as ours, I showed him my pen-and-ink sketch, which I had
taken care to bring with me. He recognized the likeness in a moment.
"It would appear that Mr. Hodgson was a man of high standing in his
profession, and the legal adviser to a number of the first families in
Stavering and its neighborhood. Further inquiry elicited the
information that he died within a week of the date of his last visit
to Ashdown, which may possibly serve to account for the fact that Mr.
Brancker's letter to him has remained unanswered. Mr. Hodgson had no
partner in his business, nor, so far as is known to my landlord, has
anyone been appointed as his successor.
"I must confess that I am taken very considerably aback by what has
just been told me, and that for the present I am altogether nonplussed
as to what my next step ought to be. However, I do not despair.
Difficulties are made to be encountered and, if possible, overcome. In
any case, I will write you again in the course of to-morrow."