CHAPTER LIV.
A DISCOVERY.
Hannah Martin had never been much of a traveller. It was years sinceshe set her foot inside a railway carriage. She often boasted of herabnormal lack of nerves, but she was also heard to say that accidentsby rail were fearful and common, and likely to happen at any moment.She sighed for the old coaching days, and hated the thought of alllocomotives propelled by steam. Nevertheless, early in the morning ofthe day following her interview with Primrose, Hannah, in her usualneat print dress, was seen to enter the little railway station atRosebury, was observed to purchase for herself a third-class returnticket, and after carefully selecting her carriage, to depart forLondon.
In the afternoon of that same day Hannah reached her destination, andsecuring the first porter whose attention she could arrest, she placeda bit of paper in his hand, and asked him to direct her to the addresswritten upon it. The man screwed up his eyes, stared at the paper,and suggested that Hannah should place herself in a hansom, and directthe driver to take her to Park Lane. Hannah had not an idea what ahansom meant; she had never visited London since her early days. Shestared with horror at the proposed vehicle, and finally selecting thecreakiest and most uninviting of the four-wheelers, drove off to herdestination.
Mrs. Ellsworthy was enjoying some very fragrant tea in her littleboudoir when a servant announced that a person of the name of Martinhad come up from the country in a four-wheeler, and would be glad tosee her as soon as possible.
"What kind of person, Henry?" asked the little lady. "I am very tiredjust now, and I must go out to dinner in less than two hours. A personfrom the country in a four-wheeler? What can she want with me?"
"She seems a respectable sort of body, ma'am," answered the footman,"but nervous and shaky, and mortal afraid to step out of the cab; thecabby and me we had both to lend her a hand in alighting, ma'am. She'ssitting now in a chair in the hall, and I can see she's upset with herjourney, but _respectable_; there's no word for the neatness of herperson, ma'am."
"She is probably poor, and wants me to help her," replied Mrs.Ellsworthy. "I hate seeing beggars, for I find it absolutelyimpossible to say _no_ to them. Show her up, Henry, and give her ahint that I'm going out to dinner, and can only spare her a very fewmoments."
Hannah could not certainly be accused when she entered Mrs.Ellsworthy's room, of any want of nerves. Her hands were shaking, herlips were tremulous, and her face, as she entered the room, becameperfectly white.
"You'll excuse me, ma'am," she said. "I'm most sorry to trouble you,but I'm that anxious, I scarce know what I'm doing. I undertook arailway journey--which I don't think right--and I came here throughmost crowded streets in a dreadful vehicle, for I just wanted to askyou a single question, ma'am."
"Sit down, my poor woman," said Mrs. Ellsworthy, who, the moment shelooked at Hannah, began to have a dim sort of idea that she had seenher before, and also became full of pity for her. "Sit down. How youtremble! I am sorry to see you are so nervous."
"Nervous, ma'am!" echoed Hannah. "That I should hear that said of me!No, ma'am, it ain't nervous I am, but I'm rather worried with thetremblings during the last few hours. I've come to ask you a plainquestion, ma'am, plain and direct. It's about the young man Mr. Noel.Have he, ma'am, or have he not, a mole on his left arm? I'd like yesor no, ma'am."
"A mole on his left arm!" echoed Mrs. Ellsworthy. "My good woman, whata very extraordinary question; you really quite startle me. Has ArthurNoel a mole on his left arm? Yes, of course he has; I used to noticeit when he was a child. I suppose people don't outgrow moles, so heprobably has it still. Why, Mrs. Martin--I am told your name isMartin--how very white you are. Would you--would you like a glass ofwine?"
"Thank you, ma'am--no wine, thank you, ma'am. I'm a bit upset. Yes,I'm a bit upset, for I believe Mr. Arthur Noel is my long-lost baby."
The footman downstairs had given Mrs. Martin careful directions not tooccupy more than a moment or two of his mistress's valuable time; butthough he waited on the stairs and lingered about in theentrance-hall, no bell summoned him to show out this remarkablevisitor. An hour passed away, an hour and a half, and still Mrs.Martin remained in close conversation with Mrs. Ellsworthy. At the endof the hour and a half Henry looked earnestly at the clock, sighed,and felt that it was his duty to go into the room to let Mrs.Ellsworthy know that she would be late for her dinner-party. He foundthat good lady sitting by her writing-table with very flushed cheeksand tearful eyes, and Hannah standing in quite a familiar attitude byher side.
"Give this note to Mr. Ellsworthy when he comes in, Henry, and orderthe carriage to be brought round directly. I am not going to dine outto-night. I will just go upstairs to change my bonnet. And Henry, takeMrs. Martin down to the servants' hall, and give her some dinner. Sheis coming out with me in the carriage, so be quick, please."
As Mrs. Ellsworthy stood before her glass re-arranging her toilet hermaid saw her wiping some tears from her pretty eyes.
"Oh, my bonny Arthur," she said under her breath. "Oh, what your poor,poor mother must have suffered."
When the carriage came to the door Mrs. Ellsworthy gave the coachmanNoel's address, and the two women drove there at once. They werefortunate in finding the young man within. He too was engaged to dineout that night, but he did not go. Hannah, Mrs. Ellsworthy, and he hada long conference, which lasted until late in the evening, and whenMr. Ellsworthy joined them he was told a very wonderful story. Hannahreturned to Devonshire on the following morning very well pleased withher successful expedition.
"If there had been any doubt," she said to herself, as she was beingwhirled homewards in her third-class carriage, "if there had been anydoubt after the sight of that mole on his dear, blessed arm, why, thelittle shirt which Mrs. Ellsworthy showed me, and which she took offhis back herself after them horses had all but killed him, would provethat he's my own boy. Could I ever forget marking that shirt incross-stitch, and making such a bungle over the A, and thinking I'dput Mainwaring in full, and then getting lazy, and only making themark A.M.? Well, I was served out for that piece of laziness, for myboy might have been brought back to his mother but for it. Dear, dear!Well, there's no mistaking my own A.M., and when I peered close withmy glasses on I could even see where I unpicked the A. and did it overagain. Dear, dear, shall I ever forgive myself for not doing thesurname in full--his poor, poor mother! Well, I mustn't think ofthat--it's a merciful Providence that has led me to him now, and he'sas darling and elegant a young man as ever I clapped eyes on, and asfond of the young ladies as can be even now.
"'I always felt somehow as if they were my sisters,' he said to me.Well, well, God be praised for his mercies."