The governor, meditating in his library, was disturbed by a ring at the
front door. The servant opened it, and he heard Miss Shellington's voice
without.
In a moment Ann entered, white and flurried.
"I want you to pardon me, Floyd," she begged, "but that boy of ours
insisted upon coming to see you. He would have come alone, had I refused
to accompany him. Will you be kind to him for my sake? He is so
miserable over his sister!"
Vandecar clasped her extended hands and smiled upon her.
"I'll be kind to him for his own sake, little friend. Mrs. Vandecar told
me of her talk with Horace over the telephone, and I was awfully sorry
to have missed him. But the little boy, where is he?"
Miss Shellington threw open the door, and Vandecar's gaze fell upon a
tall boy, straight and slim, who pierced him with eyes that startled him
into a vague apprehension. He did not utter a word--he seemed to be
choked as effectually as if strong fingers were sunk into his throat.
Floyd loosened his hands from Ann's and stepped forward.
"I'm Flukey Cronk, Sir," he broke forth, "and Pappy Lon Cronk stole my
sister Flea, and he's goin' to give her to Lem Crabbe to be his woman,
and Lem won't marry her, either. Will ye help me to get her back?
Brother Horace said as how ye could. Pappy Lon's a thief, too, and so is
Lem. If ye'd see Lem Crabbe, ye'd help my sister."
Ann saw two pairs of mottled brown eyes staring at each other, and, as
she listened to Floyd's petition, the likeness of the boy to the man
struck her forcibly. The expression that swept over Governor Vandecar's
face frightened her, and she held her breath. But quicker than hers had
been the thoughts of the man. He staggered at the name of "Lon Cronk,"
and his mind coursed back to a heart-rending scene, to hear again the
deep voice of a big-shouldered thief pleading for a sick woman. Again he
saw the huge form of the squatter loom up before him, and heard once
more the frantic prayer for a week's freedom. He had not taken his eyes
from the boy's, and a weakening of his knees compelled him to grip the
back of the chair for support. With a voice thickened to huskiness, he
stammered:
"What--what did you say your father's name was, boy?"
"Lon Cronk, Sir--and he's the worst man ye ever see. I bet he's the
worst man in the state--only Lem Crabbe! He beat my sister, and were
makin' me a thief."
Governor Vandecar dropped into his desk-chair. For a space of time his
face was concealed from Ann and Floyd by his quivering hand. When he
looked up, the joy in his eyes formed a strange contrast to Ann's
tearful face. Floyd, thinking the change in the governor boded well for
Fledra, advanced a step.
"Sit down, boy," said the governor in a voice that was still hoarse.
"Now, then, answer me a few questions. Did your father ever live in
Syracuse?"
"Yep, me and Flea were born there."
"How old are you?"
"Comin' sixteen."
"And your sister? Tell me about her. Is she--how old is she?"
"We be twins," replied Floyd steadily.
The girl, watching the unfolding of a life's tragedy, was silent even to
hushing her breathing. The truth was slowly dawning upon her. How well
she knew the story of the kidnapped children! How often had her own
heart bled for the tender mother, spending endless days in vain
mourning! She saw Governor Vandecar stand, saw him sway a little, and
then turn toward the door.
"Governor, Governor!" she called tremulously, "I feel as if I were going
to faint. Oh, can't you see it all? Where is Mrs. Vandecar?"
"Stay, Ann, stay! Wait! Boy, have you ever had any reason to believe
that you were not the son of Lon Cronk?" Through fear of making a
mistake, he had asked this question. He knew that, should he plant false
hope in the timid mother he had shielded for years, she would be unable
to bear it.
"Nope," replied Floyd wonderingly; "only that he hated me and Flea. He
were awful to us sometimes."
"There can be no mistake," Ann thrust in. "He looks too much like you,
and the girl is exactly like him.... Oh, Floyd!"
Vandecar extended his arms, and, with a sob that shook his soul, drew
his boy to him.
"You're not Cronk's son," he said; "you're mine!... God! Ann, you'll
never know just how I feel toward you and Horace. You've made me your
life debtor; but, of course--of course, I didn't know, did I?" Then,
startled by a new thought, he realized Floyd. "But my girl!"
"Horace has gone for her," Ann cried.
"And I will follow him," groaned Vandecar. "Horace--and he could not
interest me in my own babies! If I'd helped him, my little girl wouldn't
have been taken away!"
In the man's breakdown, Ann's calm disappeared. Unable to restrain her
tears, she fluttered about, first to Floyd, then to his father, kissing
the boy again and again, assuring and reassuring the governor.
"Just remember," she whispered, bending over the sobbing man, "Horace
loves her better than anything in the world. Listen, Floyd! He's going
to marry her. Don't you think he'll do everything in his power to save
her?... Don't--don't sob that way!"
Of a sudden Vandecar leaped to his feet. Brushing a lock of white hair
from his damp brow, he turned to Floyd.
"Before I do anything else, I must take you to your mother."
"But ain't ye goin' for Flea?" demanded Floyd.
"Of course, I am going for my girl," cried Vandecar, "as fast as a train
can take me!" He turned suddenly and placed his firm hands on the boy's
shoulders. "Before I take you upstairs, boy, listen to me! You've a
little mother, a sick little mother who has mourned you and your sister
for years. I'm going to leave her with you while I'm gone for your
sister. Your mother is ill, and--and needs you!"
Still more interested in his absent sister than in his newly found
parent, Floyd put in:
"I'll do anything ye say, if ye'll go for Flea."
Ann touched the father's arm gently.
"Come upstairs now."
* * * * *
Mrs. Vandecar was alone when her husband entered. She was sitting near
the window, her eyes pensive and sad. The governor advanced a step,
thrusting back the desire to blurt out the truth. The woman glanced into
his eyes, and the change there brought her to her feet. Her face paled,
and she put out her slender, trembling hands.
"There's something the matter, Floyd.... What's--what's happened?... I
heard the bell ring."
In an instant he crushed her to him, and in an agitated voice whispered
gently:
"Darling, can you stand very good news--very, very good news, indeed?...
No, no; if you tremble like that, I sha'n't tell you. It's only when you
promise me--"
"I promise, I promise, Floyd! Is it anything about our--our children?"
"Yes--I have found them!"
How many times for lesser things had she fainted! How many hours had she
lain too weak to speak! He expected her now to evince her frail spirit.
He felt her shiver, felt her muscles tighten, until she seemed to grow
taller as he held her. Then she drooped a little, as if afraid. Dazedly
she brushed back her tumbled hair, her eyes flashing past him in the
direction of the door.
"Bring--bring them--to--me!" she breathed.
Just how to explain her daughter's danger pressed heavily upon him. He
dared not picture Lon Cronk or the man Floyd had described. To gain a
moment, he said:
"I will, Dear; but only one of them is here. The other one--"
"Which one is here?"
"The boy, Sweetheart, our own Floyd."
Although she was shaking like a leaf, Vandecar saw that she was not
fainting, and when she struggled to be free he released her. She
staggered a little, and said helplessly:
"Then, why--why don't you bring--him to me?"
"I will, if you'll sit down and let me tell you something." He knelt
beside her and spoke tenderly:
"Sweetheart, our children have been near us for months. They came to Ann
and Horace--"
Fledra Vandecar gave a glad little cry.
"It was he, then, the pretty boy that prayed! Oh, Floyd, something told
me! But you said he was here alone. Where is my girl?"
"That's what I want to tell you, Fledra. Look at me, dear heart."
The eyes, wandering first from his face, then to the door, fell upon
him. They seemed to demand the truth, and he dared not utter a lie to
her.
"By some crooked work, which Everett and the squatter--"
His words brought back Horace's story. A strange horror paled her cheeks
and widened her eyes.
"That man, the one who called himself her father, took her back to
Ithaca. Is that what you wanted to tell me?"
As she attempted to rise, Vandecar pushed her gently back into the chair
and said:
"I'm going for her, Beloved, and Horace has already gone--Wait--wait!"
Vandecar was at the door in an instant, and when he opened it Ann
appeared, leading Floyd by the hand. Mrs. Vandecar's eyes fastened
themselves upon the boy, and, when Ann pushed him toward her, she rose
and held out her arms.
Floyd was taller than she, and he stood considering her calmly, almost
critically. He had been told by Miss Shellington that he would see his
mother, and as he looked a hundred things tore through his mind in a
single instant. This little woman, with fluttering white hands extended
toward him, was his--his very own! He felt suddenly uplifted with a
masculine desire to protect her. She looked so tiny, so frail! He was
filled with strength and power, and so glad was his heart that it sang
loudly and thumped until he heard a buzzing behind his ears. Suddenly he
blurted out:
"I'd a known ye were mine if I'd a met ye any place!"
Governor Vandecar hurriedly left them and telephoned for a special train
to take him to Ithaca. He entered his library and summoned Katherine. He
talked long to her in low tones, and when he had finished he put his arm
about the weeping girl and said softly:
"And you'll come with us, Katherine, dear, and help me bring back my
girl? I shall ask Ann to go with us."
"Oh, uncle, dear, you know I will go! And, oh, how glad I am that you've
found them!"
"Thank you, child. Now, if you'll run away and make the necessary
preparations, we'll start immediately."