Betty Grier

'Yes, Mr Russell,' he said, 'I don't know what to say about that. I couldn't get to sleep last night for thinking of it.'

'Well, Joe, it seems plain enough to me. The lady you knew died twenty-four years ago. Miss Stuart is not more than twenty-five, so it couldn't possibly be she whom you knew.'

'That is so, sir; I admit that,' and he stopped polishing; 'and it's a far cry from Thornhill to Toledo; but the Miss Stuart I saw last night was wearing a locket which I am sure belonged to a Mrs Stuart who died in Toledo twenty-four years ago. If I'm wrong, then, sir, my name is not Joseph Hebron.'

I was positively tingling with excitement, and strangely conscious I was on the eve of a great discovery. A thousand thoughts flashed through my mind; I felt quite overcome and bewildered. Here, 'far from the madding crowd,' in this sleepy little village with its easy-going, unpretentious ways, I had met the woman God made for me; and there, polishing the barrel of my grandsire's old pistol, stood one of the least important of its villagers, who of a surety held the key to all the mysteries that had baffled our unveiling. It seemed unreal, incredible, impossible, yet it was absolutely true, for clutched to my heart I held the sacred memory of our moonlight talk, I felt the touch of her hand, and her parting words were ever ringing in my ears; and Joe's earnestness and assurance were as a presage to me that the mists would soon be rolled away. Betty's words came to me, 'If it's ocht ye want to ken, ye maunna ask him questions;' but I felt I must put her advice aside. Questions must be asked, and answers must be given willingly, not dragged out; and if I was to obtain these answers Joe must be to some extent taken into my confidence.

'Joe,' I said, 'you speak with a positiveness which carries conviction with it, and encourages me to great expectations. Now I'll be honest and candid with you, and you must be frank with me and answer fully and truly one or two questions I wish to put to you. You admit that the remarkable likeness you see in Miss Stuart to a Mrs Stuart you knew long ago has disturbed your mind, and you are quite convinced that the locket Miss Stuart wears belonged to that lady. There is a probable connection here which, if it can be established, will mean much to Miss Stuart. Her affairs are in my hands, and naturally I am very much interested in this. Now, Joe, you don't know me. Betty does. Will you take her word as surety for my honourableness, and tell me frankly all I may ask?'

Joe looked very intently at me while I was speaking. Then he laid down the pistol and emery-cloth with a suddenness and determination which plainly told me that his yea would be yea, and his nay, nay. 'Mr Russell,' he said earnestly, 'I have always sworn by Nathan's Betty; she swears by you in everything. If any information I can give will be of service to Miss Stuart you're welcome to it, and I'll answer truthfully whatever you ask.'

'Thank you, Joe. I know you will. Well, first of all, who was Mrs Stuart?'

'She was the wife of Major Stuart of my old regiment, the 25th.'

'Do you remember his full name?'

'Yes, sir. It was Major Sommerville Stuart of Abereran, Perthshire.'

'Where did they live together as husband and wife?'

'Well, sir, it was like this. You see—eh—well, perhaps I had better tell you what I know in my own way—some pointed questions are not easily answered.'

I nodded. 'All right, Joe; just as you wish,' I replied.

'Well, we were stationed at Gibraltar when the Major was married. I was his orderly at the time, and he took me with him to a town called Toledo, where the marriage took place. I saw the lady—a French lady she was—only once before she was Mrs Stuart; she and the Major were on horseback, and a fine-looking pair they were; and I saw her twice after they came back to Toledo from their honeymoon. She was then wearing the locket I saw last night. It was one of the marriage presents he gave her, and I remember seeing it on his dressing-room table in the hotel, and thinking he was lucky to be able to buy such a nice gift. I was courting at that time—not Sally; another girl who died—and I—well, I would have given a whole year's pay to be able to buy my girl one like it. That's how I remember it so well. The Major stayed in Toledo for about a week after his honeymoon trip, and then he went to headquarters, taking me with him of course; but Mrs Stuart remained at Toledo. She never came down to Gib. that I know of, but the Major went back once or twice. Then about a year after their marriage she died. The Major got the sad news at mess, and left that night, and I followed next day with his luggage. We returned the day after the funeral, and—and that's all I know, I think.' Then he picked up his emery-cloth and resumed his polishing, as if the story he had told was of ordinary import.

'Joe,' I said after a pause, 'what you have told me is most valuable information, and I thank you very much indeed. Were you present at the marriage ceremony?'

'Yes, sir, as a spectator, of course. I had nothing particular to do, and was in a strange town, and I was anxious to see what a foreign marriage was like.'

'Naturally! Then the marriage was in a church in Toledo?'

'Yes, sir; but I don't remember the name of the church.'

'Ah, Joe, that's a pity, now. Could you describe it to me? I know Toledo, and might be able to refresh your memory.'

'Well, sir, it was a very old-looking place, built of brick, and one part was newer-looking than the other. There's a big bridge at the entrance to the town–'

'Yes, Joe, the Bridge of Alcantara.'

'That's the name, sir. Well, I think I could go from the bridge right up to the church even yet. If I had a piece of paper and a pencil I could show you.'

I readily supplied him with pencil and paper, and after a little cogitation and a good deal of muttering, 'Forward, right turn, left wheel, steady now, forward,' he handed me the diagram of what he judged was the route. As it wasn't drawn to a scale, and no streets were noted, it was quite unintelligible to me; but it proved Joe had it in his mind's eye, and so far this was quite satisfactory. 'Thank you, Joe,' I said. 'May I keep this?'

He nodded, and I put it in my pocket. 'Now, just two questions more. Was Mrs Stuart buried in Toledo?'

'No, sir. She lies in a cemetery a few miles out of Toledo.'

'You don't remember the name of the place?'

'Well, sir, I do—sometimes. It reminded me, when I heard it first, of the old home-name of Dalgonnar, but it wasn't that—very near it, though.'

'Dalgonnar—Dal–Ah, Joe, was it not Algodor?'

'That's the name, sir—Algodor. I see you've been there. Well, sir, Mrs Stuart's buried at Algodor.'

Unknown to Joe, I had taken shorthand notes of the gist of his information, and when he was again busy with his emery I went over them carefully. 'By the way, Joe,' I asked, 'did you ever hear anything about the birth of a child?'

'Yes, sir. Mrs Stuart died in childbed, but the child lived. I don't remember hearing whether it was a boy or a girl. Mr Trent, our chaplain, could tell you about that. He went up with the Major and baptised it.'

'And where and how can Mr Trent be found now?'

'Well, sir—strange—last time I came up from Brighton I had an hour to wait at Carlisle, and I met him in the street when I was taking a stroll between trains. He's not changed much, and I knew him at once and saluted. He stopped me, and asked me my name and regiment, said he was in a hurry, but that he lived at Stanwix, and if at any time I was in the locality to be sure and call on him.'

'Joe,' I said, 'you're a brick, a most invaluable friend to me just now, and I cannot tell you how much all this means to Miss Stuart and to me. There is much yet of which we shall require proof; but it is a fact, Joe, that Major Sommerville Stuart of Abereran, your Major, was her father. It may be necessary, in fact it will be imperative, that we should send some one out to Toledo. I know it is asking a good deal, but would you accompany any one we may depute to go? Your presence is very essential, and your good service will be amply remunerated.'

'Well, Mr Russell, I'm not of much use here, and I'll not be wanted elsewhere till July. If I can be any good to you, I—I don't mind going. In a way, I'll be in the Major's service again.'

I never drink whisky during the day; but somehow I felt that a compact such as Joe and I had made was sufficient excuse for breaking any rule. We drank success to our undertaking, and when Joe had left me I sat down, and, after thinking things over, I came to the conclusion that Providence, in a most wonderful way, was making the crooked path straight; and that, with the exception of Nathan, Joe had the most extraordinary by-nature of any man I ever knew.

I stayed Betty's hand when she came in to light up for the night. I knew she was just dying to know how I had got on with Joe; and, as his story would be meaningless without the prologue, I told her everything. The flickering firelight fell on her dear old face, and the glint in her eye quickened as I unfolded my love-story. And when I had finished she came over, and, bending down, kissed me.

'The Lord's your shepherd. He's leadin' ye by the still waters,' she whispered. 'An', oh, Maister Weelum, Joseph Hebron's a prood, prood man this nicht.'

CHAPTER XVII

Of late it has truly been a time of startling events with me. One surprise has followed hard on the heels of another, and possibilities new to my horizon are looming before me, bidding fair to alter—and may I trust perfect?—my whole line of life. And yet I am not unduly excited or exercised in mind. I wonder is this because my drama is being acted on staging of God's own making, and amidst scenery painted by His own hand? I know how strongly we are all influenced by environment. A thunderstorm over the busy city, raging around crowded haunts and lighting up with its pointed fire all of man's handiwork, is to me appalling and menacing; in the country, among the echoing hills and sombre woods, it is grand and inspiring. When I think of it, it is not unlikely that a closer acquaintance with Nature and an insight into the marvellous laws which govern her have brought to me a keener sense of the true proportion of things. The pulsing sap in a February sprig of hawthorn is wonderful and mysterious, more wonderful far than Joe's acquaintance with Toledo or my meeting Désirée Stuart in Nithbank Wood.

Accompanied by Bang and Jip, I walked out to the station yesterday to meet Murray Monteith, and when I saw him step from the train to the platform I felt what Betty calls a 'ruggin'' at my heart, for very emphatically he appeared as a link binding me to a life which I know I must soon re-enter, and which I have lately ignored and well-nigh forgotten.

Monteith is one of the aristocrats of our profession, a gentleman by breeding and nature from the crown of his head to the sole of his foot. Quiet, reserved, well knit and well groomed, he fills the eye and takes the heart wherever he goes, and as I shook hands with him I felt a secret pride in the knowledge that he is my partner.

I welcomed him warmly to the strath of his forefathers, and assured him that if his knife and fork happened to be reversed at dinner, or if any one offered a left-hand shake, he must just count it an accident, as we had long ago ceased to remember the disreputable part his namesake played in pre-Bannockburn days.

We had a twelve o'clock dinner: broth—not the kind everybody or anybody makes, but Betty's broth—boiled beef, with potatoes in their skins, followed by a jam-roll, of which Monteith had two liberal helpings. I told him that long ago it was usual to finish up a dinner with another plateful of broth, and he assured me that had he not partaken of the jam-roll he would gladly have revived the custom. I didn't forget to tell Betty of the appreciation, and I know it pleased her, for when we drew in our chairs for a smoke I heard her voice from the back-kitchen raised, as timmer as of old, in the lilting strains of 'The Farmer's Boy.'

Then through tobacco-reek we talked business—at least Monteith did, and I listened. He had much to tell me, and he talks well. After disposing of some private matters, we broached the all-important object of our visit to Mrs Stuart, and it was only when we came to the unpleasant part of Miss Stuart's affairs that I told him of my wonderful discovery and the astonishing part that Joe had played in it.

Dressed in his Sunday best, Joe was awaiting his call in the kitchen, and on being brought in he was closely questioned by Monteith. Not only did Joe confirm all he had told me before, but he added to our knowledge by giving us the exact date of the baptism of the Major's baby. It synchronised with the date of a black day in Joe's life, when a girl died of whom he was very fond. When I was thinking sentimentally of his tragedy, and making allowances for much remissness that Betty deplores, Monteith, with arched eyebrow, was staring at him through a monocle, thanking Providence for having so opportunely sent him our way, and counting him a means to a successful end.

Long after Joe had left the room, Murray Monteith sat lost in thought. Monteith cannot leave a fire alone when he is thinking anything out. His room in our premises in Charlotte Square adjoins mine, and if I hear through the wall a vigorous poking and smashing going on I know he is tackling a ticklish problem. Yesterday, in five minutes, he 'bashed' Betty's fire out of recognition; and when for the tenth time he had lifted and dropped the poker he turned to me suddenly and said, 'By Jove, Russell, this will be a bitter pill for our friends Smart & Scobie!' I told him I didn't care a rap for that; what gratified me beyond measure was the fact that a sweet, sensitive girl had been spared humiliation, and that, instead of being a nameless lassie, she was Miss Stuart of Abereran.

I spoke very feelingly, and Monteith wasn't slow to notice it. He focussed me slowly through his monocle. 'I share that sentiment with you, Russell,' he said. 'I am not unmindful of her, though I give voice to my feeling of exultation in scoring a point. I trust Miss Stuart has no inkling of what has been standing in our way to prevent a settlement in her affairs. You—you haven't met her yet?'

'Oh yes; we are a small community here, and I have spoken to her once or twice.'

'Then you've been visiting at Nithbank House?'

'Not since I went under my mother's care twenty years ago, when the Ewarts lived there.'

'Oh!' and again he fixed me through his monocle. But he saw I was disinclined to go into details, and his good breeding made further questioning impossible. 'Well,' he said, after a pause, 'Mrs Stuart will be delighted to know all this. Her stepson, Maurice Stuart, has been at the root of all this trouble. I understand he wanted to marry Miss Stuart; but she would have nothing to do with him, and in retaliation he has done his level best to turn the mystery of his uncle's marriage to his own account. He it was who instructed Smart and Scobie. He's an awful waster, I believe, and his stepmother long ago cut him adrift.'

This was news to me, but I feigned indifference, and as adroitly as I possibly could turned the subject of our conversation to Joe and the part he had yet to play. 'I think, Monteith,' I said, 'we ought to take him with us to-day to Nithbank House. Mrs Stuart will be interested in him, and wishful, no doubt, to see and talk with him.'

'Oh, certainly,' said Monteith, as he snipped the end off another cigar; 'and, if he's still about, you had better call him at once. The carriage is at the door, I see.'

Mrs Stuart had very kindly sent her brougham for us; and so it came to pass that when we left the door Joe was sitting on the dicky beside the coachman, arms folded and eyes front—conscious, however, I felt sure, that Nathan's Betty was approvingly watching him from behind the dining-room curtains.

We were received very graciously by Mrs Stuart in the library. I introduced Monteith to her, and she at once apologised for having put him to the trouble and inconvenience of travelling so far. Then she inquired in a very kindly way after my health, and told me that when first her niece had informed her of my residence in the village she felt annoyed that the firm had not advised her; but that, after all, it was perhaps wisely kept from her, as she would only have worried me about business and made herself a nuisance.

I laughingly said something in reply about doctors being autocrats, and thanked her for her inquiries and consideration, and, to my great relief, the subject was gradually and agreeably changed to something else.

The Hon. Mrs Stuart is tall and angular, and she dresses in stern black, as becometh a sorrowing widow. She has, for a woman, a very square, assertive chin and a somewhat determined mouth; but the effect of the hard, firm chiselling of the lower part of the face is discounted by the kindly expression of her mellow, blue-gray eyes. Her hair is streaked with gray, and she has arrived at that time of life when, for preference, she sits and talks to visitors with her back to the light.

As Monteith had surmised, the important business she had referred to in her letter had to do with Miss Stuart's affairs, and as this was causing her great anxiety we went into the matter at once.

She explained to us, as she had done privately to me before, that she really didn't know, or, rather, that she had never had opportunities of knowing, her late brother-in-law, General Stuart. 'He was queer,' she said, 'very queer; lived in a bleak part of Cornwall most of his time, preferring it to Abereran in Perthshire; for years kept his marriage a secret, and made no mention of a daughter; and then, when we were looking forward with reasonable certainty to some day seeing Maurice laird of Abereran, a handsome girl of eighteen, an undoubted Stuart, was brought home from a Continental school, and, as his daughter, Désirée Stuart, installed mistress of his house. Personally, I had not a doubt of Miss Stuart's status or right of birth; but Maurice—well'–and she shrugged her shoulders and looked thoughtfully away down the avenue.

I asked my partner to tell her what we had learned from Joe, and he did so in that easy, off-hand, taken-for-granted style which we men of law sometimes affect, and which is intended to impress our clients with our astuteness and perspicacity. At first Mrs Stuart looked indifferent; but as the story was unfolded, and Joe's part established, she sat forward in her chair in utter amazement. 'Remarkable! remarkable!' she exclaimed. 'I never heard of such a wonderful coincidence.'

After we had discussed it in all its bearings, and settled on a definite plan of action, Joe was brought in. As my presence and advice were no longer necessary, I asked that I might be permitted to see Miss Stuart with reference to her Banku shares, and to this Mrs Stuart readily agreed. When we were passing through the hall to the drawing-room she asked if it was my intention to acquaint her niece with the news we had learned. I replied that as Miss Stuart had not been made aware of the nature of the difficulty which had so long confronted us, it wouldn't be advisable to tell her all we knew; but, with her permission, I would take the opportunity of informing her that certain knowledge we had acquired lately was likely to hasten a settlement. She agreed with me in this, and it was with a beating heart I entered the drawing-room.

CHAPTER XVIII

Miss Stuart was sitting before an easel in the large oriel, and as her aunt briefly announced me and withdrew in her eagerness to talk to the wonderful Joe, she rose and greeted me warmly. 'Oh, Mr Russell,' she said, 'I am glad to see you. Somehow I can't paint to-day; the inspiration is wanting;' and she put her brushes in the jar and laid aside her palette.

It was a large room lit by two windows, one facing the south, the other to the west over-looking the wooded banks of the winding Nith. The flush of the sunset was tingeing the sky and flooding the room with a subdued light which mellowed and softened the deep black of the Indian furniture against the pale-gray walls and the deeper-gray carpet. A large fire, crowned with a halo of short blue flame, glowed in the grate, and a 'megilpy' odour, mingling with the faint, indescribable perfume which ladies carry with them, lingered around, and reminded me of a reception afternoon in a Queen Street studio of long ago.

I was conscious of these details in my surroundings, although my eyes had never wandered for a moment from the sweet face of my dream-lady, and followed her greedily as she walked forward to the firelight.

I explained to her that my partner, Mr Monteith, was engaged with Mrs Stuart on business, and that I had taken the opportunity of having a word with her on a similar subject.

She smiled, wearily I thought, and seated herself. 'I don't like business talks, Mr Russell,' she said. 'Neither did father. It must be a family trait. Still, I dare say they are incumbent on us sometimes. I trust it is pleasant business you wish to talk over.'

'Oh yes, it is pleasant enough,' I said, and her face brightened. 'Sitting here,' I continued, after a pause, 'and seeing you in such a perfect setting, I am strongly tempted to talk to you on a subject nearer my heart; but—well, I have already promised you to put my feelings into the background for the time being, and, hard though it may be, I will be true to my word. You remember I talked to you about your interest in the Banku Oil Company? Well, the last dividend was paid to us, one hundred pounds of which has been lodged in the local bank, and I have here a cheque-book which you can use from time to time as you may require.'

'You are very thoughtful for me, Mr Russell,' she said softly, 'and I thank you very, very much. One hundred pounds is surely a lot of money. I could do with less, you know, if'–

'Not at all, Miss Stuart. The money is yours; use it as you like, and just let me know when you need more. You—you don't mind asking me?'

'No,' she said promptly, and as she trustfully looked me in the eyes her mouth retained the form of that little word long after it had passed her lips. She was sitting in profile against the firelit background, leaning slightly forward in her chair, her elbow on her knee and her chin resting lightly on the tips of her fingers. Her pose was so easy and graceful, and her dear face, in its beauty of feature and earnestness of expression, so bewitching, that I could not conceal my longing and admiration. I would have given the world to be allowed to kneel down beside her, and there, in the mystic glamour of the firelight, worship silently and reverently at her shrine. My steady gaze disconcerted her, and I cursed my temerity when I saw a blush spreading over her half-averted face.

'Socrates has many disciples still, Mr Russell,' she said, without any sign of displeasure in her tone; and her eyes again sought mine.

'Yes. How so, Miss Stuart?'

'He sought the truth in doing good; so do you. Since father's death, and until—well, very lately, I haven't known what it is to have a joyous mind. I seem to have been walking among shadows, and a dread has always been knocking at my heart. You, by your kindly attention and your sympathy, have lightened my burden and brought a ray of hope to me; and, do you know, Mrs Jardine's little children every evening of their sweet young lives ask God to bless you for being kind to their dear daddy.'

Our line of business conversation had got a twist somehow, and I didn't very well know what to say in reply, or how best, without breaking away at a tangent, I could get back to the subject I had in my mind. 'I am sorry to hear you have had your troubles, Miss Stuart,' I said after reflection; 'but I am glad to know that even to a small degree I have made your burdens lighter. I have promised to be your friend; you'll not find me wanting, I assure you. Doubtless your affairs have worried you, but daylight is showing through now, and in a few weeks I trust everything will be settled to your satisfaction. Do you know, we have with us to-day some one who knew your father, and who was present at his marriage ceremony.'

'Some one who knew my father, and who was present at his marriage ceremony!' she repeated slowly, as if she couldn't at once realise what it meant.