XXVI. SWEETWATER RETURNS
"You see me again, Miss Scott. I hope that yesterday's intrusion has notprejudiced you against me."
"I have no prejudices," was her simple but firm reply. "I am onlyhurried and very anxious. The doctor is with Mr. Brotherson just now;but he has several other equally sick patients to visit and I dare notkeep him here too long."
"Then you will welcome my abruptness. Miss Scott, here is a letter fromMr. Challoner. It will explain my position. As you will see, hisonly desire is to establish the fact that his daughter did not commitsuicide. She was all he had in the world, and the thought that shecould, for any reason, take her own life is unbearable to him. Indeed,he will not believe she did so, evidence or no evidence. May I ask ifyou agree with him? You have seen Miss Challoner, I believe. Do youthink she was the woman to plunge a dagger in her heart in a place aspublic as a hotel reception room?"
"No, Mr. Sweetwater. I'm a poor working girl, with very little educationand almost no knowledge of the world and such ladies as she. Butsomething tells me for all that, that she was too nice to do this. Isaw her once and it made me want to be quiet and kind and beautifullike her. I never shall think she did anything so horrible. Nor will Mr.Brotherson ever believe it. He could not and live. You see, I am talkingto you as if you knew him,--the kind of man he is and just how he feelstowards Miss Challoner. He is--" Her voice trailed off and a look,uncommon and almost elevated, illumined her face. "I will not tell youwhat he is; you will know, if you ever see him."
"If the favourable opinion of a whole town makes a good fellow, he oughtto be of the best," returned Sweetwater, with his most honest smile. "Ihear but one story of him wherever I turn."
"There is but one story to tell," she smiled, and her head droopedsoftly, but with no air of self-consciousness.
Sweetwater watched her for a moment, and then remarked: "I'm going totake one thing for granted; that you are as anxious as we are to clearMiss Challoner's memory."
"O yes, O yes."
"More than that, that you are ready and eager to help us. Your verylooks show that."
"You are right; I would do anything to help you. But what can a girllike me do? Nothing; nothing. I know too little. Mr. Challoner must seethat when you tell him I'm only the daughter of a foreman."
"And a friend of Mr. Brotherson," supplemented Sweetwater.
"Yes," she smiled, "he would want me to say so. But that's his goodness.I don't deserve the honour."
"His friend and therefore his confidante," Sweetwater continued. "He hastalked to you about Miss Challoner?"
"He had to. There was nobody else to whom he could talk; and then, I hadseen her and could understand."
"Where did you see her?"
"In New York. I was there once with father, who took me to see her.I think she had asked Mr. Brotherson to send his little friend to herhotel if ever we came to New York."
"That was some time ago?"
"We were there in June."
"And you have corresponded ever since with Miss Challoner?"
"She has been good enough to write, and I have ventured at times toanswer her."
The suspicion which might have come to some men found no harbour inSweetwater's mind. This young girl was beautiful, there was no denyingthat, beautiful in a somewhat startling and quite unusual way; butthere was nothing in her bearing, nothing in Miss Challoner's letters toindicate that she had been a cause for jealousy in the New York lady'smind. He, therefore, ignored this possibility, pursuing his inquiryalong the direct lines he had already laid out for himself. Smilinga little, but in a very earnest fashion, he pointed to the letter shestill held and quietly said:
"Remember that I'm not speaking for myself, Miss Scott, when I seem alittle too persistent and inquiring. You have corresponded with MissChalloner; you have been told the fact of her secret engagement to Mr.Brotherson and you have been witness to his conduct and manner for thewhole time he has been separated from her. Do you, when you think ofit carefully, recall anything in the whole story of this romance whichwould throw light upon the cruel tragedy which has so unexpectedly endedit? Anything, Miss Scott? Straws show which way the stream flows."
She was vehement, instantly vehement, in her disclaimer.
"I can answer at once," said she, "because I have thought of nothingelse for all these weeks. Here all was well. Mr. Brotherson was hopefuland happy and believed in her happiness and willingness to wait for hissuccess. And this success was coming so fast! Oh, how can we ever tellhim! How can we ever answer his questions even, or keep him satisfiedand calm until he is strong enough to hear the truth. I've had toacknowledge already that I have had no letter from her for weeks. Shenever wrote to him directly, you know, and she never sent him messages,but he knew that a letter to me, was also a letter to him and I can seethat he is troubled by this long silence, though he says I was right notto let her know of his illness and that I must continue to keep herin ignorance of it till he is quite well again and can write to herhimself. It is hard to hear him talk like this and not look sad orfrightened."
Sweetwater remembered Miss Challoner's last letter, and wished he had ithere to give her. In default of this, he said:
"Perhaps this not hearing may act in the way of a preparation for theshock which must come to him sooner or later. Let us hope so, MissScott."
Her eyes filled.
"Nothing can prepare him," said she. Then added, with a yearning accent,"I wish I were older or had more experience. I should not feel sohelpless. But the gratitude I owe him will give me strength when I needit most. Only I wish the suffering might be mine rather than his."
Unconscious of any self-betrayal, she lifted her eyes, startlingSweetwater by the beauty of her look. "I don't think I'm so sorry forOswald Brotherson," he murmured to himself as he left her. "He's a morefortunate man than he knows, however deeply he may feel the loss of hisfirst sweetheart."
That evening the disappointed Sweetwater took the train for New York. Hehad failed to advance the case in hand one whit, yet the countenance heshowed Mr. Gryce at their first interview was not a wholly gloomy one.
"Fifty dollars to the bad!" was his first laconic greeting. "All I havelearned is comprised in these two statements. The second O. B. is a finefellow; and not intentionally the cause of our tragedy. He does not evenknow about it. He's down with the fever at present and they haven't toldhim. When he's better we may hear something; but I doubt even that."
"Tell me about it."
Sweetwater complied; and such is the unconsciousness with which we oftenencounter the pivotal circumstance upon which our future or the futureof our most cherished undertaking hangs, he omitted from his story, thesole discovery which was of any real importance in the unravelling ofthe mystery in which they were so deeply concerned. He said nothing ofhis walk in the woods or of what he saw there.
"A meagre haul," he remarked at the close.
"But that's as it should be, if you and I are right in our impressionsand the clew to this mystery lies here in the character and daring ofOrlando Brotherson. That's why I'm not down in the mouth. Which goes toshow what a grip my prejudices have on me."
"As prejudiced as a bulldog."
"Exactly. By the way, what news of the gentleman I've just mentioned? Ishe as serene in my absence as when under my eye?"
"More so; he looks like a man on the verge of triumph. But I fear thetriumph he anticipates has nothing to do with our affairs. All his timeand thought is taken up with his invention."
"You discourage me, sir. And now to see Mr. Challoner. Small comfort canI carry him."