A WORLD-WIDE SEARCH.
It is a night of nights, destined to mark, as with a white stone, the
progress of at least two life currents that have until recently flown
contentedly on, each in its own individual channel.
Valetta, being a city of the Italian school, makes much ado over the
coming of Lent. The people, as if to prepare for six weeks of fasting,
indulge in all manner of feasting.
Even the Mohammedans, who are present in no small numbers, join the
festivities, for they, too, have a period of fasting, according to the
example set by the prophet, and commanded in the Koran.
Hence Valetta is very gay when night comes on; fancy Chinese lanterns
hang in the streets, music is heard on every hand, and laughing,
good-natured crowds jostle elbows in a way that would horrify a high
caste Hindoo.
Valetta has long been known as the headquarters of the famous Order of
Malta. The representative commanderies of different nations have their
inns, each called an _auberge_, on the principal streets, while the
palace of the Grand Master is three hundred feet on each side, facing
four streets, with a large square in front known as the Piazza St.
Giorgio.
A small tower on the top known as the _Torretta_ is used as a station
from which men-of-war are signaled.
Everywhere can be seen the insignia of this ancient order, the white
Maltese cross on a blood-red field, arousing thoughts of men in armor,
the crusades, and much that is stirring and romantic in the history of
the centuries that are gone.
A student of history would find much to entrance him in this peculiar
hill-side city on the British Island of Malta.
Supper is served at the hotel just as night comes on, and John Craig,
M.D., has managed to eat in an unconcerned way, talking with his
friends, and trying to appear unconscious of the fact that two score of
curious eyes are upon him, the incident of the afternoon having spread
like wild-fire among the rest of the delayed steamer's passengers who
stop at the same hotel.
This is the first time the young master of medicine has found himself
the center of observation, and he comes through the ordeal very fairly,
as Lady Ruth informs him laughingly, when they _by chance_ leave the
dining-room together.
Another ordeal awaits John. In the parlor he finds the mother of the boy
whose life he saved. She cannot talk much English and John is hardly at
home in Arabic, or the mixed language used by the Maltese.
When two persons are very much in earnest they manage to get on, and the
poor woman calls down the blessings of Heaven on his head ere she leaves.
"I wish all this were over," he laughs, rejoining the English girl.
"Make the most of it, doctor," says the colonel, sauntering up with
a choice weed between his teeth; "such occasions come rarely and had
better be appreciated. Take the advice of an old campaigner, and make
hay while the sun shines."
"Oh! I mean to, colonel," replies John, and there is a hidden meaning
in his words that causes the officer to look at him steadily and mutter:
"Hang the boy! I really believe he expects to enter the lists against
me, Colonel Lionel Blunt, who carries a Victoria Cross and knew what
a love affair was before he was born. Well, the end is not yet, and he
laughs loudest who laughs last."
All of which is very true, and proves that the colonel of Royal Engineers
does not mean to let the opportunity pass.
A few minutes later John and Lady Ruth stand on the piazza of the hotel.
The scene is well worth looking at, with its many lights, bright colors,
and constantly changing crowds.
She expresses surprise, and seeks an explanation which fortunately the
young doctor is able to give, thanks to certain information he picked up
in scanning his guide book.
"In time of peace prepare for war. They seek by a double allowance of
gayety to make up for the amount to be lost during Lent," he says.
"Is Mr. Craig here?" asks a voice, and all look at the speaker, who is
a quiet appearing man, perhaps a native of England.
"That is my name, sir."
"John Alexander Craig?"
"The same."
"Of Chicago?"
"Well, what can I do for you?"
The other has been looking at him steadily.
"I desire to speak a few words with you, Doctor John Craig."
"Go on."
"I beg your pardon--it must be in private."
"In that case my friends will excuse me for a few minutes."
"Oh! yes," replies Lady Ruth, looking at the bearer of the message again.
"Certainly," says Blunt, promptly dropping into the chair John vacates
at her ladyship's side, and his celerity to take advantage of the
circumstance arouses a little suspicion in her mind that after all it
may be a ruse to get him away, with the Briton's gold backing it.
She pays little attention to what the colonel is talking about; twice
she turns her head and looks to where John and the stranger talk, while
to herself she says:
"Strange why I am interested in him and his fortunes. What is this
singular story concerning his mother, which some time he means to tell
me--when we become better friends? And now comes this man to hold a
secret consultation with him! Where have I seen him before, where heard
his voice? I cannot remember just now, but there is something familiar
about him. The doctor appears to be excited--there, he lays his well
hand on the other's arm and speaks quickly. Pshaw! it's none of my
business," and she resolutely turns her face toward the bright scene
on the street, only to glance back again a dozen seconds later.
The doctor comes up; singularly enough Lady Ruth has just bethought
herself of her fan, and the military figure of the stalwart Briton is
seen passing through the door-way upon a wild-goose chase for the much
maligned article of ladies' warfare, which has played its part in many
a bit of diplomacy, and which he will never find, as it is at that moment
resting in the folds of milady's dress, cleverly hidden from view.
"I trust you have had no bad news, doctor?" says the English girl, with
a touch of sympathy in her voice.
"On the contrary, Lady Ruth, I have heard something that is of intense
moment to me," he replies, showing emotion.
"About--your mother?" she asks, quickly.
"It is so. Lady Ruth, you have heard me speak enough of my past to
realize that it has been a lonely life. My father loves me after his own
fashion, and I--respect him deeply; but all my life I have longed for
the love of a mother, until it has reached an intensity you can hardly
comprehend. Now I have received certain news that gives me a wild hope."
"I, too, lost my mother when young, and that circumstance enables me to
feel for you."
Her tender eyes thrill him as he never yet has been touched; the bond of
sympathy is akin to love; he has never had a confidant, and human nature
yearns to unbosom itself.
"I promised to tell you the story, Lady Ruth. If I were sure we would
not be interrupted, I would be inclined to speak now, for I am about
starting upon a mission, the result of which Heaven alone can foresee."
His earnestness impresses her ladyship; trust a bright girl for bridging
over a trifling difficulty such as this.
"There is a little private parlor attached and generally empty," she
suggests, artlessly.
"Just the ticket," he boldly exclaims.
In a few minutes they are seated alone in this bijou parlor; its
decorations are quaint, even barbaric in their splendor, and a lover
of the _bizarre_ would happen upon such a scene with the keenest of
pleasure.
"Here are some drawings we can be looking over," she suggests, and he
nods eagerly, inwardly blessing her ready sagacity.
Thus they look harmless enough.
"Now I will play the lady confessor. What is it all about? Have you
fallen into debt like a bad boy, and don't dare write the _pater_?"
He looks at her and laughs.
"You see the comical side of everything, Lady Ruth. This I fear bids
fair to be a tragedy."
"A tragedy! Dear me, didn't we have quite enough of that this afternoon?
What can it be? Surely, you and the colonel--" and she colors furiously
upon realizing how near she has come to betraying her thoughts.
"The colonel and I have had no words, as yet, Lady Ruth. This affair
is something that concerns my past. Let me briefly tell you a few facts
that are of especial interest to me, and may claim your attention.
"I told you I had not seen my mother since I was a child, yet she is not
dead. An unfortunate affair happened, and she was exiled from home.
Heaven knows I have ever believed her innocent.
"On several occasions, unbeknown to my stern father, I have received a
line without a signature, a line that called down Heaven's blessings on
my head, a line that caused me to cry like a baby.
"Thus year by year my resolve became stronger; I would find my mother,
I would seek the solution of the dreadful mystery that hangs over the
Craig home.
"My studies were done; I graduated at the head of the medical class and
spent a year under the most eminent professors at Heidelberg. When they
gave me my diploma, they wrote my father that I ought to have a year of
travel to improve my health before entering upon the life work to which
I am devoted.
"Of course my desire was granted, and I began the search. I have been six
months at it without success; it is like pursuing an _ignis fatuus_. A
clew would take me to Russia, whence I would fly to Persia, then to
Turkey, and next to London. In Paris I felt sure of success, but the
lady I was tracking turned out to be a grandmother, and there was a
lively scene in her house when I sprung my game.
"Talk of 'Japhet in search of his father!' why, he wasn't in it at all
compared with me. At last came another clew; among the letters forwarded
in a bunch from home was a line in the same precious hand. See, here it
is."
He takes out from a note-book a slip of paper; the writing is elegant
and feminine.
She reads:
"January 12th. Just twenty years to-day. Oh! Heaven! teach me to kiss
the rod."
No signature, only a mark like a tear-drop.
"Now you realize my position; you can, in a measure, understand the
peculiar mingling of love, reverence, and pity with which I think of
this mother, and how the thought of her enters into every act of mine."
"Yes, yes, I do indeed," sympathetically.
"I have sworn to find her--to let her know there is one who loves the
poor exile. Let my father rage if he will, my heart burns to meet her.
I will proceed. This letter was postmarked Malta, here at Valetta."
"But you did not mention--"
"I knew the steamer would stop a few hours at least, and thought that
might be enough in which to learn the truth. Strange things have
happened since we landed. I have learned several facts which astound me.
"You saw a man come in and draw me aside? That man controls the
destinies of these people of Valetta, even as a chief of police would in
our cities. When first I landed I sought the presence of Luther Keene--"
"There--your mention of his name revives my recollection like a flash.
Now I know just when and where I met that man," she says.
"He promised to assist me, for a consideration, of course, and was
especially delighted at the chance to prove that even out here in Malta
there might be a second Vidocq.
"In his first report he told me the party I sought had been in Valetta
only recently, but he believed she was now gone.
"The man told me just now where Blanche Austin staid during her
residence here, at a house on the Strada Mezzodi, and I shall go as soon
as I leave you, to make inquiries there. If you are interested in my
story, you might, perhaps, care to hear what news I may pick up on my
visit to this house, which has so recently covered my mother."
"Indeed, I am more than interested in your story, and anxious to learn
how you succeed. Would you know your mother if you should meet her
to-day?" she asks, mentally wondering why he has taken her into his
confidence.
"I believe so. A son's loving eyes would do much toward solving the
problem."
"But your memory of her must be exceedingly hazy, to say the least."
"That is true; but I have another clew. Once, when a boy, I was rummaging
through some old papers in an antique secretary which I found in the
attic, when I ran across an ivory miniature that had been overlooked.
"Upon it was painted a girl's face; my heart told me who it was, and
underneath I found the words 'Blanche Austin at eighteen.'
"I have treasured that ever since; it has been my most valued possession.
Would you like to see it, Lady Ruth?"
"Must assuredly," she replies, warmly, eagerly.
He places it in her hands.
"It was plain when I found it; with my spending money for a whole year
I had that gold locket made which holds it now. Ever since it has been
very close to my heart."
"Such devotion is wonderful. I sincerely hope it will meet its reward."
Then she looks at the miniature, which time has not in the least harmed,
looks at it--and utters a little ejaculation.
"She was beautiful indeed, Doctor Chicago--most charming. A face to
haunt one. I can see a trace of sadness in it, even at this early age,
as though her coming troubles cast a shadow before. You will be
surprised when I tell you I have met her."