The Girl Next Door

  CHAPTER XX

  AUNT MINERVA TAKES COMMAND

  For an entire week thereafter Aunt Minerva went her own mysterious way,calm and unruffled herself, but keeping the rest of her family ontenter-hooks of excitement.

  She wrote mysterious letters which she would allow no one but herself tomail, and received mysterious replies, the contents of which she kept adark secret. They watched her with the feeling that they were quiteoutside the game now, and that she had the keys of the situationentirely in her own hands. Which was indeed the truth!

  At last one day, after receiving a particularly bulky communication, shedeigned to speak.

  "Can you carry a message for me to Miss Benedict?" she inquired ofMarcia and Janet.

  "Yes!" they replied eagerly, but humbly.

  "Ask her if she could possibly grant an interview in her own house tothe four of us here--and one other. It's very important."

  "Oh, Aunt Minerva, you _know_ she never receives _any_ strangers in thehouse!" expostulated Marcia.

  "I know that, of course. And you told me the reason, which I quiteappreciate. But there's bound to come a time, even in her peculiarexperience, when it's expedient to break a rule like that. The time hascome now, and you can tell her that I'm sure she'll be very sorry if shedoes not grant this request. The matter intimately concerns her, or Iwould not dream of intruding on her."

  "Well, you may as well tell _us_ what you've been concocting, Minerva,"interrupted Captain Brett. "You've kept us in the dark about longenough, haven't you? And if I'm to go in there with the procession, I'dlike to know a thing or two about where I'm at, instead of sittingaround like a dummy! And who is this 'other one' you allude to, anyway?"

  Miss Minerva laughed at his impatience. "You may well ask, Edwin! Ithink you must have been about as blind as a bat not to see right alongwhat struck _me_ the very first minute after you told me what thejig-saw things on that bracelet meant! As soon as I heard the word'Amoy' the idea jumped right into my mind. About two months ago I hearda most wonderful address by a Dr. Atwater, a medical missionary fromChina, whose headquarters are at the hospital in _Amoy_. And you caneasily see that I thought of him at once, when--"

  "By Jove!" thundered the captain, striking his knee with his fist, "whata jolly goose I've been not to have thought of the _missions_ there atonce!"

  "I should say you were!" commented Miss Minerva, caustically. "You andthe major together!"

  "Well, you see I've never come in contact with them much--" began thecaptain, apologetically.

  "Never mind that now," went on Miss Minerva. "I thought of Dr. Atwaterright away. He's been there many years, and knows something about mostevery one in the region, I guess. Anyhow, I decided that I'd get hisaddress (he's in this country on a year's furlough) and write to himabout this queer case. And I did. And he has answered me--"

  "And were you right?" they all interrupted.

  "I was _so_ right," she announced triumphantly, "that I've asked him tocome and tell this story (which he has only outlined in his letter) infull to Miss Benedict. And I want you all to be there to hear it. Andwhat's more, I'm not going to tell you another word about it till youhear it from him, so it's no use to tease for hints! Go right in and askMiss Benedict when she can arrange for this interview--the sooner, thebetter!"

  * * * * *

  It was not an easy matter to persuade Miss Benedict to grant AuntMinerva's request. She was shy and timid about receiving strangers, andher affection of the eyes, as well as her curious manner of living, madeit hard for her to do so. She had to acknowledge that it would be evenharder to see them elsewhere. Nor could she believe that the affairreally concerned _her_, except very indirectly--through Cecily, perhaps.It was for Cecily's sake alone that she at last gave a reluctantconsent, assigning the following Wednesday afternoon as the appointedtime. And the intervening two days was spent by them all in a restlessfever of expectation--all, at least, except Aunt Minerva!

  * * * * *

  On Wednesday afternoon, Dr. Atwater arrived at the apartment and wastaken in charge at once by Miss Minerva, who guarded him like a dragonlest a hint of the important secret should slip out before the appointedtime. He was a tall, angular man with a gray, Vandyke beard, and hisface was grave in repose. But he talked brightly and interestingly andhad the jolliest laugh in the world. The girls thought him very unliketheir preconceived notions of a missionary. He and the captainfraternized at once, exchanging tales of the Far East to which Janetand Marcia listened in absorbed wonder.

  But at last Aunt Minerva was ready, and the "procession" (as the captaininsisted on calling it) filed into the street and proceeded to the gateof "Benedict's Folly." So unusual was the sight of the little crowdwaiting to be admitted, where no admittance had been granted in so manyyears, that every passer-by stared at them open-mouthed.

  Miss Benedict opened the gate, bonneted and veiled as usual, and Marciamade the introductions as best she could, to which Miss Benedict'sreplies were murmured so low that no one could hear them. Then she ledthe way to the house and into the darkened parlor, where they all satdown, with a sensation of heavy constraint. After that, Cecily came inand was presented to Dr. Atwater. He started slightly when he saw her,and looked into her face long and scrutinizingly in the dim light.

  When Miss Benedict had removed her bonnet and veil Aunt Minerva brokethe silence:

  "Miss Benedict, I have brought Dr. Atwater here because I havediscovered that he has something to tell you--something that will be ofintense interest to you. I know this may seem incredible, but I can onlybeg that you will do us the favor to listen."

  Miss Benedict inclined her head without speaking, and Aunt Minervacontinued:

  "You have heard, I believe, about the curious incident of the bracelets,but I do not know whether you have heard about the translation of thestrange characters on them."

  Miss Benedict murmured that she had not, and Miss Minerva explained itas briefly as she could. Then she went on:

  "Dr. Atwater, here, is a medical missionary from Amoy, and I have foundthat he not only knew the owner of the bracelets, but has some personalrecollections about them that we think will concern you. Will you listento Dr. Atwater, if you please?"

  Miss Benedict again bowed in assent, and Dr. Atwater began in an easy,conversational tone:

  "Miss Brett has remarked correctly that I knew the owner of thebracelets, and all about the characters on them, and a good deal of thestory connected with them. By sheer chance, or rather, perhaps, I oughtto say by very good reasoning, she has hit on about the only personliving now who does know anything about them! Here's the story:

  "A good many years ago in Amoy--I was quite a _young_ doctor then--I wasthrown in with a clever young fellow who had recently landed there,having come on a sailing-ship from America. He seemed rather at looseends, so to speak,--didn't know the language, didn't have any money,didn't know what to do with himself, didn't have any occupation, andspent most of his time wandering aimlessly about the town.

  "He was a fine, upstanding, straightforward chap (he said his name wasArchibald Ferris), but he evidently had something on his mind, for hewas gloomy and depressed. It began to worry me for fear he'd drift intotrouble if he kept on that way. So I tried to get him interested in myown work, and invited him to go around with me on some of my long tours.We didn't have any hospital then, and I had to go about from town totown doing my medical work as I went. He came with me very gladly, andwas of a good deal of assistance, and we grew to be firm friends. But Irealized there was something he was pining for, and after a long whilehe confessed to me what it was.

  "He wanted a _violin_! He adored music, played well, but had lost orparted from his instrument in some way. (He didn't explain that, justthen.) Well, a missionary's salary isn't munificent, so I couldn't verywell grant his wish out of my own pocket, much as I wanted to. The bestI could do was to get him a position in a Chinese tea-exporting house inAmoy, where
he could earn the money himself. It was better for him to beregularly occupied, anyway.

  "After a few months he had saved a sufficient sum, and sent off toShanghai for his coveted treasure--he couldn't wait to get it over fromAmerica! After it came he was actually happy--for a while. He _was_ amarvelous musician for his age, I'll admit, and he could hold usspellbound an entire evening at a time with his bow. The natives adoredhim, and gave him the name 'Chok-gak e lang' or 'maker of melodies.'

  "Well, he had the musical temperament, and after his violin came hecouldn't stay long in the tea-house, but got to going about with meagain on my tours--always with his precious violin. He was really of thegreatest assistance, because his music was almost as good as ananaesthetic in many instances--could calm the most excitable fever-case Iever came across.

  "It was on one of these tours that he met young Miss Cecily Marlowe atthe English mission in Sio-khe--"

  At this point every one gave a little start of surprise and lookedtoward Cecily, who alone sat gazing, wide-eyed and absorbed, at Dr.Atwater.

  "She was a wonderfully beautiful girl," he continued, "with a colorlike English roses in her cheeks. The Chinese called her'Flower-maiden,' or 'Hor-lu.' She had but recently come to the missionfrom her home in England. Well, it was a case of love at first sight onboth sides! And before many more months Ferris announced to me that hewas going back into the position at the tea-house and there earn enoughmoney to be able to marry her. But he also told me that Miss Marlowe,while very much in love with him, was still very devoted to her workthere and very earnest about the cause for which she had left her homeand come so far to serve. She insisted that, if they married, she muststill be allowed to continue in the missionary work. To this he wasperfectly willing to assent.

  "So they were married in the English mission at Amoy, and on thewedding-day he gave her this pair of bracelets which he had had madeafter his own design. They were not an expensive gift, but he was poor,in worldly goods, and it was the best he could afford. After thehoneymoon they built a little home on the island of Ko-longsu, rightnear the city of Amoy. He went on with his work in the tea-house, andshe with her teaching in the mission-school on the island.

  "It seemed an ideal arrangement, and they were ideally happy for anumber of years. He never advanced very far in the tea-house, for heloved his music too well and he had no head for business. But he madeenough to keep them comfortably, and more they did not want.

  "Then about 1898, I think, came a change. To their great joy a littledaughter was born to them. She was a beautiful baby, and for over a yearthere was no happier home in all China. But one day, when the baby wasabout a year and a half old, Ferris came to me and told me he was introuble and wanted my advice.

  "He began by telling me that the baby seemed to be drooping and that hehimself was not feeling quite up to the mark. I looked them both overand found he was right. The climate was too much for them. It is formany foreigners sooner or later. I told him they ought to go home for ayear or so and recuperate. He said he couldn't--didn't have any home togo to, in fact. Had long ago quarreled violently with his people, andwould never go back to them. Moreover, he had his wife and baby toconsider. He couldn't afford to give up and lose his position. If hedid, what were they to do?

  "I suggested that they go to his wife's people in England. He said therewas difficulty in that direction, too. She had only a married brotherand his wife, and they had not approved of her giving up all herprospects to come to China as a missionary. They heard from them only atlong intervals, though recently, to be sure, they had offered to takecare of the little girl if the time came that she needed change of air.

  "Ferris told me that he and his wife naturally could not bear toconsider such a thing, but on the other hand, the baby's welfare must betheir first consideration. What should I advise them to do?

  "I considered the matter carefully, and at last told him he'd betteraccept the offer to care for the baby for a year or so. She, at least,would be provided for, and he and his wife could then take their chanceswithout imperiling her future. To follow this advice nearly broke theirhearts, but the next missionaries who went back to England on furloughtook the baby with them, and gave her into the care of the brother andhis wife. It is needless to say that Cecily Ferris is the same whom weknow as Cecily Marlowe. I would recognize her anywhere, for she is theimage of her mother." And he looked toward the girl sitting in the dimlight, held by the wonder of his story. The silence that ensued wasbroken first by her.

  "Tell me, if you please," she half whispered, "did my father ever--everplay to me on his violin? Do you know what he played?"

  "Why, I'm sure he did," smiled Dr. Atwater. "I used to stop at his houseearly in the evening sometimes, and I generally found him fiddling awayby the side of your cradle. Mostly it was an air he called 'Traeumerei,'or something like that. I'm not very good at remembering musicalnames."

  "I knew it!--I _knew_ I'd heard it somewhere, over and over again, whenI was little!" she cried. "And yet I never could remember anything elseabout it!"

  "He used to say it was his favorite," remarked Dr. Atwater.

  Suddenly Miss Benedict spoke, for the first time during the recital.There was a tremble of suppressed excitement in her voice.

  "Is that all the story?"

  "Oh, no!" resumed Dr. Atwater. "There's not much more to tell, but I'msorry to say, the rest is not very cheerful. After the baby's departureFerris's health failed perceptibly. He finally gave up his position, butMrs. Ferris kept on with her work and nursed him as well. But the strainof all this began to tell on her, and at last, in 1900, I advised her totake a holiday, and go north to Tientsin with her husband to recuperate.We missionaries raised enough among ourselves to finance this littlevacation for them. Before he went, however, Ferris had a long talk withme one day, and confided to me a few things about himself and his past.To begin with, he said that Archibald Ferris was not his right name. Hehad assumed it at a certain period of his life because he had brokenaway from his family, and did not deem it best that what remained ofthat family should ever know he existed. They probably thought himdead--in fact he was sure that they did. And his return to existence, sofar as they were concerned, would simply complicate family affairs. Onlyhis wife knew who these relatives were. He had recently, however, sentword to his wife's brother that should anything ever happen by whichCecily would be left alone, she should be sent to America and placed inthe care of this family, whose name he had given them under the seal ofsecrecy, if the brother and his wife were unable or unwilling to providefor her. He also sent one of the bracelets to England to be given to hislittle daughter, requesting that she be always allowed to keep it. Themother always wore the other one.

  "He was very much depressed that day, and told me, besides, that hiscareer had been wrecked in the beginning--that he had dreamed of being agreat violinist, but had been thwarted in strange ways. However, hedeclared that his life in China had been happy beyond words, except forthe unhappy present. Then he bade me good-by, as he was starting forTientsin the next day."

  Dr. Atwater stopped abruptly and swallowed hard, as if what he had totell next came with an effort. He went on presently. "It was at the timeof the Boxer uprising. Ferris and his wife had almost reached Tientsinwhen the trouble broke out there, and--they were never seen aliveagain!" He stopped, and there was a tense silence in the room.

  At last he continued: "I have always blamed myself for having been theunwitting cause of their death. I had advised them to go to Tientsin,though of course I could not foresee the dark days that were about tocome. I wish with all my soul that I had not done so, that I had,perhaps, sent them somewhere else, but it is irrevocable now. There isno use dwelling on the past.

  "Doubtless that is how the other bracelet came to be cast loose on theOriental world. Probably it was stolen at the time, and passed from handto hand till it came into the possession of Captain Brett. It is astrange coincidence that brought it back at last to its mate!

 
"It became my sad duty to notify Mr. Marlowe of the tragedy. In hisreply--a frank, manly letter--he expressed his regret that a differenceof opinion had ever interrupted the cordiality of his relations with hissister and her husband, and said that, as he and his wife already lovedlittle Cecily devotedly, they would adopt her as their own. They werereluctant to have her childhood shadowed by her parents' sorrowfulstory, and so believed it best that she should never know that she wasnot indeed their daughter, Cecily Marlowe.

  "Well, that is the story of the man who called himself ArchibaldFerris," said Dr. Atwater. He looked about him inquiringly and added: "Ihope that my telling it has given all the enlightenment that wasexpected?"

  During his long recital every one had sat with eyes fastened upon him,and no one of his audience had a thought for the other. Now that it wasover they each drew a long breath and settled back in their chairs. Andthen, for the first time, they noticed the curious conduct of MissBenedict.

  She was sitting far forward in her chair, her big gray eyes almoststarting from her head, her hands clutching the arms of the chair tillthe blue veins stood out. On her forehead were great beads ofperspiration, and she drew her breath in little gasps. Quite unconsciousof their united gaze, she leaned forward and touched Dr. Atwater's armwith an imploring hand.

  "Was there--was there no way of--of ascertaining his _real_ name?" shestammered.

  Dr. Atwater looked at her with compassion in his kindly eyes. "I know ofbut one thing that might have served as an identification," he conceded."When I was giving him the medical examination, I noticed on his leftupper arm two small initials surrounded by a tiny row of dots. Theywere just such a mark as small boys often tattoo themselves with inindelible ink, and of course, they are there for life. Doubtless he hadso decorated himself with his initials in his boyhood days--"

  "Oh, what _were_ the initials?" interrupted Miss Benedict in a stifledvoice.

  "They were 'S. B.,'" replied Dr. Atwater.

  With a little choking cry, Miss Benedict buried her face in her hands.

  "Oh, it can't--it _can't_ be _possible_!" they heard her murmur. Then inan instant she had collected herself and gazed about at them all,amazement and incredulity in her lovely eyes.

  "My friends," she spoke very quietly, "I cannot understand what thismeans. My brother's name was Sydney Benedict, and I remember when, as aboy, he had tattooed those initials on his left arm, as Dr. Atwater hasdescribed them. And he performed wonderfully on the violin, and dreamedonly of being a great artist some day. He longed to go abroad andstudy, but my father would not hear of it. He wished his only son toenter his business and continue it after him. They were bothhigh-tempered and had many terrible quarrels about it. I--my sister andI--sided with my father. At last my father threatened to disinheritSydney if he did not accede to his wishes. And on the followingmorning--it was his twenty-first birthday--we found only a note pinnedto his pillow, saying he had gone away forever. He had taken with himonly his violin.

  "But," and here she hesitated, gazing around inquiringly on the company,"I cannot understand what follows. Two weeks later we received word froma steamer that had just arrived in Europe from New York, that a youngman named Sydney Benedict had fallen or jumped overboard one night whenthey were two days out, and his loss was not discovered till next day.Only his violin remained in the cabin. He was certainly lost at sea. Icannot understand--" She suddenly pressed both hands to her head as ifit pained her.

  "Wait a moment!" cried Dr. Atwater. "I believe I can explain that. Ishould have told it before, but I quite forgot; there was so much totell. He did once confide to me (apropos of some little adventure we hadhad together on one of my trips, when I almost lost my life) that he toohad once had the narrowest kind of escape from death. He said that onleaving America he had taken a steamer for Europe, hoping to find themeans to study there. They hadn't passed Sandy Hook, however, before hebecame violently seasick, and lay in his berth like a log fortwenty-four hours. On the second night it became so stiflingly hot inhis cabin that he felt he must get to the deck for air or die.

  "So he struggled out and up the companionway, somehow, meeting no one,for it was very late. On the deck he crawled in behind a life-boat, andlay in a rather unprotected outer portion of the deck, so sick that hescarcely knew where he was or how dangerous was the spot he had chosen.All of a sudden the vessel gave an unusually heavy lurch, and before hecould clutch for any hold he was catapulted into the sea.

  "Curiously enough, the sudden ducking dispelled his horrible sickness,and when he came to the surface he found himself striking out to swim.Useless to shout for help from the great steamer, which had alreadypassed a boat's length beyond him. But he was a strong swimmer, thenight was warm, and he resolved not to give up till he _had_ to.

  "All night, till dawn, he managed to keep on the surface, swimming andfloating. And at daylight a sailing-vessel picked him up, numb andweary, and ready to go to the bottom at the next stroke. The ship onwhich he found himself was bound for China, and of course he had to 'tagalong,' working his passage as a common sailor in return for his keep.It was then, I suspect, that he made up his mind to change his name. Ithink, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Archibald Ferris and SydneyBenedict are one and the same person!"

  At this Aunt Minerva, who hadn't spoken a word since her speech ofintroduction, put on her glasses and swept the assembly with atriumphant gaze. The girls and Captain Brett were so absorbed that theycould not utter a syllable, and Miss Benedict sat back in her chair in astunned silence.

  Only Cecily seemed unconscious enough of the strain to do the naturalthing. She rose from her chair and went over to Miss Benedict, droppingdown on her knees beside her, and snuggling her head on the olderwoman's shoulder with a confiding movement.

  "I'm Cecily _Benedict_ now," she said simply, "and I--I love you--AuntAlixe! I'm glad there _was_ a good reason why I was sent over here toyou!"

  Miss Benedict looked down at the golden head, and the terrible tensionin her face relaxed.

  "Sydney's child!--my little Cecily!" they heard her murmur.

  But they heard no more, for at this point, Aunt Minerva arose andmajestically motioned the entire company out of the room!