CHAPTER 32
MISS CORNELIA DISCUSSES THE AFFAIR
"And do you mean to tell me, Anne, dearie, that Dick Moore has turnedout not to be Dick Moore at all but somebody else? Is THAT what youphoned up to me today?"
"Yes, Miss Cornelia. It is very amazing, isn't it?"
"It's--it's--just like a man," said Miss Cornelia helplessly. She tookoff her hat with trembling fingers. For once in her life Miss Corneliawas undeniably staggered.
"I can't seem to sense it, Anne," she said. "I've heard you sayit--and I believe you--but I can't take it in. Dick Moore is dead--hasbeen dead all these years--and Leslie is free?"
"Yes. The truth has made her free. Gilbert was right when he saidthat verse was the grandest in the Bible."
"Tell me everything, Anne, dearie. Since I got your phone I've been ina regular muddle, believe ME. Cornelia Bryant was never sokerflummuxed before."
"There isn't a very great deal to tell. Leslie's letter was short.She didn't go into particulars. This man--George Moore--has recoveredhis memory and knows who he is. He says Dick took yellow fever inCuba, and the Four Sisters had to sail without him. George stayedbehind to nurse him. But he died very shortly afterwards.
"George did not write Leslie because he intended to come right home andtell her himself."
"And why didn't he?"
"I suppose his accident must have intervened. Gilbert says it is quitelikely that George Moore remembers nothing of his accident, or what ledto it, and may never remember it. It probably happened very soon afterDick's death. We may find out more particulars when Leslie writesagain."
"Does she say what she is going to do? When is she coming home?"
"She says she will stay with George Moore until he can leave thehospital. She has written to his people in Nova Scotia. It seems thatGeorge's only near relative is a married sister much older thanhimself. She was living when George sailed on the Four Sisters, but ofcourse we do not know what may have happened since. Did you ever seeGeorge Moore, Miss Cornelia?"
"I did. It is all coming back to me. He was here visiting his UncleAbner eighteen years ago, when he and Dick would be about seventeen.They were double cousins, you see. Their fathers were brothers andtheir mothers were twin sisters, and they did look a terrible lotalike. Of course," added Miss Cornelia scornfully, "it wasn't one ofthose freak resemblances you read of in novels where two people are somuch alike that they can fill each other's places and their nearest anddearest can't tell between them. In those days you could tell easyenough which was George and which was Dick, if you saw them togetherand near at hand. Apart, or some distance away, it wasn't so easy.They played lots of tricks on people and thought it great fun, the twoscamps. George Moore was a little taller and a good deal fatter thanDick--though neither of them was what you would call fat--they wereboth of the lean kind. Dick had higher color than George, and his hairwas a shade lighter. But their features were just alike, and they bothhad that queer freak of eyes--one blue and one hazel. They weren'tmuch alike in any other way, though. George was a real nice fellow,though he was a scalawag for mischief, and some said he had a likingfor a glass even then. But everybody liked him better than Dick. Hespent about a month here. Leslie never saw him; she was only abouteight or nine then and I remember now that she spent that whole winterover harbor with her grandmother West. Captain Jim was away, too--thatwas the winter he was wrecked on the Magdalens. I don't suppose eitherhe or Leslie had ever heard about the Nova Scotia cousin looking somuch like Dick. Nobody ever thought of him when Captain Jim broughtDick--George, I should say--home. Of course, we all thought Dick hadchanged considerable--he'd got so lumpish and fat. But we put thatdown to what had happened to him, and no doubt that was the reason,for, as I've said, George wasn't fat to begin with either. And therewas no other way we could have guessed, for the man's senses were cleangone. I can't see that it is any wonder we were all deceived. Butit's a staggering thing. And Leslie has sacrificed the best years ofher life to nursing a man who hadn't any claim on her! Oh, drat themen! No matter what they do, it's the wrong thing. And no matter whothey are, it's somebody they shouldn't be. They do exasperate me."
"Gilbert and Captain Jim are men, and it is through them that the truthhas been discovered at last," said Anne.
"Well, I admit that," conceded Miss Cornelia reluctantly. "I'm sorry Iraked the doctor off so. It's the first time in my life I've ever feltashamed of anything I said to a man. I don't know as I shall tell himso, though. He'll just have to take it for granted. Well, Anne,dearie, it's a mercy the Lord doesn't answer all our prayers. I'vebeen praying hard right along that the operation wouldn't cure Dick.Of course I didn't put it just quite so plain. But that was what wasin the back of my mind, and I have no doubt the Lord knew it."
"Well, He has answered the spirit of your prayer. You really wishedthat things shouldn't be made any harder for Leslie. I'm afraid thatin my secret heart I've been hoping the operation wouldn't succeed, andI am wholesomely ashamed of it."
"How does Leslie seem to take it?"
"She writes like one dazed. I think that, like ourselves, she hardlyrealises it yet. She says, 'It all seems like a strange dream to me,Anne.' That is the only reference she makes to herself."
"Poor child! I suppose when the chains are struck off a prisoner he'dfeel queer and lost without them for a while. Anne, dearie, here's athought keeps coming into my mind. What about Owen Ford? We both knowLeslie was fond of him. Did it ever occur to you that he was fond ofher?"
"It--did--once," admitted Anne, feeling that she might say so much.
"Well, I hadn't any reason to think he was, but it just appeared to mehe MUST be. Now, Anne, dearie, the Lord knows I'm not a match-maker,and I scorn all such doings. But if I were you and writing to thatFord man I'd just mention, casual-like, what has happened. That iswhat _I_'d do."
"Of course I will mention it when I write him," said Anne, a trifledistantly. Somehow, this was a thing she could not discuss with MissCornelia. And yet, she had to admit that the same thought had beenlurking in her mind ever since she had heard of Leslie's freedom. Butshe would not desecrate it by free speech.
"Of course there is no great rush, dearie. But Dick Moore's been deadfor thirteen years and Leslie has wasted enough of her life for him.We'll just see what comes of it. As for this George Moore, who's goneand come back to life when everyone thought he was dead and done for,just like a man, I'm real sorry for him. He won't seem to fit inanywhere."
"He is still a young man, and if he recovers completely, as seemslikely, he will be able to make a place for himself again. It must bevery strange for him, poor fellow. I suppose all these years since hisaccident will not exist for him."