Trove went to the inn at Dannemora that evening he left Darrel and
there found a letter. It said that Leblanc was living near St.
Albans. Posted in Plattsburg and signed "Henry Hope," the letter
gave no hint of bad faith, and with all haste he went to the place
it named. He was there a fortnight, seeking the Frenchman, but
getting no word of him, and then came a new letter from the man
Hope. It said now that Leblanc had moved on to Middlebury. Trove
went there, spent the last of his money, and sat one day in the
tavern office, considering what to do; for now, after weeks of
wandering, he was, it seemed, no nearer the man he sought. He had
soon reached a thought of some value: this information of the
unknown correspondent was, at least, unreliable, and he would give
it no further heed. What should he do? On that point he was not
long undecided, for while he was thinking of it a boy came and said:
"There's a lady waiting to see you in the parlour, sir."
He went immediately to the parlour above stairs, and there sat
Polly in her best gown--"the sweetest-looking creature," he was
wont to say, "this side of Paradise." Polly rose, and his
amazement checked his feet a moment. Then he advanced quickly and
would have kissed her, but she turned her face away and Stood
looking down. They were in a silence full of history. Twice she
tried to speak, but an odd stillness followed the first word,
giving possibly the more adequate expression to her thoughts.
"How came you here?" he whispered presently.
"I--I have been trying to find you." said she, at length.
He turned, looking from end to end of the large room; they were
quite alone.
"Polly," he whispered, "I believe you do love me."
For a little time she made no answer.
"No," she whispered, shaking her head; "that is, I--I do not think
I love you."
"Then why have you come to find me?"
"Because--because you did not come to find me," she answered,
glancing down at the toe of her pretty shoe.
She turned impatiently and stood by an open window. She was
looking out upon a white orchard. Odours of spring flower and
apple blossom were in the soft wings of the wind. Somehow they
mingled with her feeling and were always in her memory of that
hour. Her arm moved slowly and a 'kerchief went to her eyes.
Then, a little tremor in the plume upon her hat Trove went to her
side.
"Dear Polly!" he said, as he took her hand in his. Gently she
pulled it away.
"I--I cannot speak to you now," she whispered.
Then a long silence. The low music of a million tiny wings came
floating in at the window. It seemed, somehow, like a voice of the
past, with minutes, like the bees, hymning indistinguishably.
Polly and Trove were thinking of the same things. "I can doubt him
no more," she thought, "and I know--I know that he loves me." They
could hear the flutter of bird wings beyond the window and in the
stillness they got some understanding of each other. She turned
suddenly, and went to where he stood.
"Sidney," she said, "I am sorry--I am sorry if I have hurt you."
She lifted one of his hands and pressed her red cheek upon it
fondly. In a moment he spoke.
"Long ago I knew that you were doubting me, but I couldn't help
it," he said.
"It was that--that horrible secret," she whispered.
"I had no, right to your love," said he, "until--" he hesitated for
a little, "until I could tell you the truth."
"You loved somebody else?" she whispered, turning to him. "Didn't
you, now? Tell me."
"No," said he, calmly. "The fact is--the fact is I had learned
that my father was a thief."
"Your father!" she answered. "Do you think I care what your father
did? Your honour and your love were enough for me."
"I did not know," he whispered, "and I should have made my way to
you, but--" he paused again.
"But what?" she demanded, impatiently.
"Well, it was only fair you should have a chance to meet others,
and I thought you were in love with Roberts."
"Roberts! He would have been glad of my love, I can tell you
that." She looked up at him. "I have endured much for you, Sidney
Trove, and I cannot keep my secret any longer. He says that Darrel
is now in prison for your crime."
"And you believe him?" Trove whispered.
"Not that," she answered quickly, "but you know I loved the dear
old man; I cannot think him guilty any more than I could think it
of you. But there's a deep mystery in it all. It has made me
wretched. Every one thinks you know more than you have told about
it."
"A beautiful mystery!" the young man whispered. "He thought I
should be convicted--who wouldn't? I think he loved me, so that he
took the shame and the suffering and the prison to save me."
"He would have died for you," she answered; "but, Sidney, it was
dreadful to let them take him away. Couldn't you have done
something?"
"Something, dear Polly! and I with a foot in the grave?"
"Where did you go that night?"
"I do not know; but in the morning I found myself in our great
pasture and was ill. Some instinct led me home, and, as usual, I
had gone across lots." Then he told the story of that day and
night and the illness that followed.
"I, too, was ill," said Polly, "and I thought you were cruel not to
come to me. When I began to go out of doors they told me you were
low with fever. Then I got ready to go to you, and that very day I
saw you pass the door. I thought surely you would come to see me,
but--but you went away."
Polly's lips were trembling, and she covered her eyes a moment with
her handkerchief.
"I feared to be unwelcome," said he.
"You and every one, except my mother, was determined that I should
marry Roberts," Polly went on. "He has been urgent, but you,
Sidney, you wouldn't have me. You have done everything you could
to help him. Now I've found you, and I'm going to tell you all,
and you've got to listen to me. He has proof, he says, that you
are guilty of another crime, and--and he says you are now a
fugitive trying to escape arrest."
A little silence followed, in which Trove was thinking of the Hope
letters and of Roberts' claim that he was engaged to Polly.
"You have been wrapped in mysteries long enough. I shall not let
you go until you explain," she continued.
"There's no mystery about this," said Trove, calmly. "Roberts is a
rascal, and that's the reason I'm here."
She turned quickly with a look of surprise.
"I mean it. He knows I am guilty of no crime, but he does know
that I am looking for Louis Leblanc, and he has fooled me with
lying letters to keep me out of the way and win you with his guile."
A serious look came into the eyes of Polly.
"You are looking for Louis Leblanc," she whispered.
"Yes; it is the first move in a plan to free Darrel, for I am sure
that Leblanc committed the crime. I shall know soon after I meet
him."
"How?"
"If he should have a certain mark on the back of his left hand and
were to satisfy me in two other details, I'd give my life to one
purpose,--that of making him confess. God help me! I cannot find
the man. But I shall not give up; I shall go and see the Governor."
Turning her face away and looking out of the window, she felt for
his hand. Then she pressed it fondly. That was the giving of all
sacred things forever, and he knew it. He was the same Sidney
Trove, but never until that day had she seen the full height of his
noble manhood, ever holding above its own the happiness of them it
loved. Suddenly her heart was full with thinking of the power and
beauty of it.
"I do love you, Polly," said Trove, at length. "I've answered your
queries,--all of them,--and now it's my turn. If we were at
Robin's Inn, I should put my arms about you, and I should not let
you go until--until you had promised to be my wife."
"And I should not promise for at least an hour," said she, smiling,
as she turned, her dark eyes full of their new discovery. "Let us
go home."
"I'm going to be imperative," said he, "and you must answer before
I will let you go--"
"Dear Sidney," said she, "let's wait until we reach home. It's too
bad to spoil it here. But--" she whispered, looking about the
room, "you may kiss me once now."
"It's like a tale in _Harper's_," said he, presently. "It's 'to be
continued,' always, at the most exciting passage."
"I shall take the cars at one o'clock," said she, smiling. "But I
shall not allow you to go with me. You know the weird sisters."
"It would be impossible," said Trove. "I must get work somewhere;
my money is gone."
"Money!" said she, opening her purse. "I'm a Lady Bountiful.
Think of it--I've two hundred dollars here. Didn't you know Riley
Brooke cancelled the mortgage? Mother had saved this money for a
payment."
"Cancelled the mortgage!" said Trove.
"Yes, the dear old tinker repaired him, and now he's a new man.
I'll give you a job, Sidney."
"What to do?"
"Go and see the Governor, and then--and then you are to report to
me at Robin's Inn. Mind you, there's to be no delay, and I'll pay
you--let's see, I'll pay you a hundred dollars."
Trove began to laugh, and thought of this odd fulfilling of the
ancient promises.
"I shall stay to-night with a cousin at Burlington. Oh, there's
one more thing--you're to get a new suit of clothes at Albany, and,
remember, it must be very grand."
It was near train time, and they left the inn.
"I'm going to tell you everything," said she, as they were on their
way to the depot. "The day after to-morrow I am to see that
dreadful Roberts. I'm longing to give him his answer."
Not an hour before then Roberts had passed them on his way to
Boston.