That Stick ...

‘I am sure, sir, I don’t know nothing.  My daughter have never writ one line to me.’

‘He was with her!’ gasped out Lord Northmoor.

‘I am sure, sir, it was none of my doing, no, nor my daughter wouldn’t neither, only the young lady over persuaded her.  ’Tis she as was the guilty party, as I’ll always say.’

‘She—who?’

‘Miss Morton—Miss Hida, sir; and my gal wouldn’t never have done it, sir, but for the stories p. 256she told, fictious stories they was, I’m sure, that the child wasn’t none of my lady’s, only a brat picked up in foreign parts to put her brother out of his chance.’

‘What are you saying?’ exclaimed Lord Northmoor.  ‘My niece never could have said any such thing.’

‘Indeed, but she did, sir, my Lord, and that’s what worked on my daughter, though I always told her not to believe any such nonsense; but then you see, she couldn’t get her passage paid to go out with Rattler, and Miss Hida give her the money if so be she would take off the child to Canada with her.’

‘And where?’ hoarsely asked the father.

‘That I can’t tell, my Lord; Louey have never written, and I knows no more than nothing at all.  She’ve not been a dutiful gal to me, as have done everything for her.’

There was no more to be made out of Mrs. Hall, and they went their way.

‘There is no doubt that the little fellow is alive,’ said Mr. Deyncourt.

‘Who can guess what those wretches have done to him?’ said Lord Northmoor under his breath.  ‘Not that I am unthankful for the blessed hope,’ he added, uncovering his head, ‘but I am astounded more than I can say, by this—’

‘It must be invention of the woman,’ said Mr. Deyncourt.

‘I hope so,’ was the answer.

‘Could Miss Rollstone have suspected it?  She was very unlike what I have seen of her before.’

p. 257They separated for breakfast, agreeing to meet afterwards to hunt up the Jones family.

Ida had suffered a good deal all the night and morning as she wondered what her confession might entail on her.  Sometimes she told herself that since it would come out in Herbert’s letters on the discovery of the child, it was well to have the honour of the first disclosure, and her brother was certain to keep her part in the matter a secret; but, on the other hand, she did not know how much Louisa might have told her mother, nor whether Mrs. Hall might persist in secrecy—nay, or even Rose.  Indeed, she was quite uncertain how much Rose had understood.  She could not have kept back guesses, and she did not believe in honour on Rose’s part.  So she was nervous on finding that her uncle was gone out.

When he came in to breakfast, he merely made a morning greeting.  Afterwards he scarcely spoke, except to answer an occasional remark from her mother.  To herself, he neither looked nor spoke, but when Mrs. Morton declared that he looked the better for his morning walk, there was a half smile and light in his eye, and the weight seemed gone from his brow.  Mrs. Morton asked what he was going to do.

‘I am going out with Mr. Deyncourt,’ he answered.

And Ida breathed more freely when he was gone.

But she little knew that Mr. Deyncourt had gone to Rose Rollstone in her father’s presence, and told her of Mrs. Hall’s revelations, asking her if this p. 258had been the cause of her silence.  She had to own how the truth had flashed at once on her and Mr. Morton.

‘It would be so very dreadful for them if it were known,’ she said.  ‘He thought if he brought back the boy, his sister’s part need not be known.’

‘Then that was the secret!’ exclaimed Mrs. Rollstone.  ‘Well, I’ll not blame you, child, but you might have told us.’

Secrets were safe with the ex-butler, but not quite so much so with his wife, though all three tried to impress on her the need of silence, before Mr. Deyncourt hastened out to rejoin Lord Northmoor.  The inquiry took a much longer time than they had expected, for the family wanted did not live in Mr. Deyncourt’s district, and they were misdirected more than once to people who disdained the notion of being connected with the Rattler, if they had ever heard of such a person.  At last they did find a sister-in-law, who pronounced George Jones to be a good fellow, so far as she knew.  He sent home to his mother regularly, and lately had had out his brother Sam, and a good job too, to have him out of the way, only what must he do but go and marry that there trollopy girl, as was no good.

Yes, George had written to say they had come safe to Toronto, but she did not hear as he said anything about a child.  The letter was to his mother, who had taken it into the country when she went to stay with her daughter.  This deponent didn’t know the address, and her husband was out with a yacht.