Chapter LIX

There was a moment’s silence and Mr. Rodney gazed steadily at the flushed face and sparkling eyes of the man who thus avowed his love for beautiful Aline.

“I love her,” he repeated. “She won my heart in the three months while she stayed in Delaney House. At first I thought her a spoiled willful child, whose sharp tongue and determined obstinacy excited my anger, but as I grew to know her better, when I found out what a warm and tender little heart beat under all her brusqueries and waywardness, she stole into my heart, unconsciously to myself. I would have given all the world for the power to make her my wife. But, alas! even as I love her, she hates me, and justly, too, I own, for she has been most deeply wronged by my cowardly silence: I cannot blame her if she never forgives me for my fault.”

Mrs. Griffin came in with some tea and toast. While she was arranging it Mr. Delaney asked, suddenly:

“Will you tell me now, Mr. Rodney, how you became possessed of the secret of Aline’s whereabouts?”

The lawyer glanced with a smile at Mrs. Griffin.

“If I should tell you that your good nurse there is the traitor, would you believe me?” he said.

Mrs. Griffin looked at him, red with indignation.

“Indeed, sir, you need not charge it on me,” she said, quickly. “Mr. Delaney knows that no one is more faithful to his interests than I am. Why, sir, I carried him in these arms when he was a baby, and do you think any one could make him believe I could betray anything he wanted kept secret?”

The humorous twinkle in Mr. Rodney’s blue eyes deepened. He waited until the old woman had arranged the invalid’s repast to his satisfaction, and then said slyly:

“Your new lace cap is very becoming, Mrs. Griffin. I should like to know where you bought it?”

It was very fortunate that the nurse had put down the tea-tray, for otherwise she must certainly have dropped it, such a start she gave at those words. She stared at Mr. Rodney, her complexion turning to a brilliant crimson.

“Why, what do you mean, Mr. Rodney?” she gasped amazedly.

“Have you forgotten Cheap Jane?” he asked, smiling.

Instantly Mrs. Griffin’s mind went back to that snowy eve when, in her loneliness, she had been overpowered by the temptation to admit the female peddler within the tabooed precincts of Delaney House. The guilty red of her cheeks grew brighter. She glanced apprehensively at her master. He was gazing at her in wonder.

“What does he mean?” Oran Delaney asked her.

She shook her head, and glanced inquiringly at Mr. Rodney.

“Yes, I remember Cheap Jane,” she said. “But what has that to do with Miss Rodney and my master?”

“If you will tell Mr. Delaney all that you know about Cheap Jane, I will show you the connection,” he replied.

Mrs. Griffin was heartily ashamed at the thought of her adventure with Cheap Jane being exposed; but she saw that it was too late to attempt concealment. She made a virtue of necessity, and related the story to Mr. Delaney, frankly apologizing for her fault.

“I know I did wrong,” she said, turning to Mr. Rodney; “but still I cannot see what harm was done by my imprudence. The old creature only stayed a little while.”

“That is where you are mistaken,” said Mr. Rodney. “Cheap Jane spent the night in Delaney House.”

“Spent the night?” she echoed, staring at him stupidly:

“Yes,” he replied.

“But how could that be?” exclaimed Oran Delaney, looking up from his untasted toast. He was too much excited to eat.

“It happened in this way,” said the lawyer. “When Mrs. Griffin went to answer your bell, the peddler slipped into a deserted room, and hid herself and her basket of potions in an unused closet. She thus remained in Delaney House all night.”

Mrs. Griffin wrung her plump hands, and cried out, dejectedly, “The wretch!”

But Oran Delaney did not utter one word; he only gazed inquiringly into the face of the lawyer.

“She remained at Delaney House all night,” repeated Mr. Rodney. “After the inmates were locked in unsuspecting slumber, the hidden peddler came forth and prowled through the house. You were sick that night, Mr. Delaney. In your fever and unrest you talked to the walls in your room--you revealed the secret of Aline’s stay in your house.”

“Great Heaven!” he cried.

“It is strange, but true,” said the lawyer. “And your uninvited guest, the peddler, who had stolen into your house like a thief by night, heard all. It was from him I learned all I knew--namely, that Aline had been a wounded prisoner in Delaney House.”

“You said ‘from him’--yet I understood that the peddler was a woman,” exclaimed Oran Delaney, quickly.

“A man in disguise,” explained the lawyer.

“Then it was no common person--the plan was a deep-laid one,” said Oran Delaney, with an inquiring look into the other’s face.

Mr. Rodney shook his head.

“No, it was not I,” he said. “It was a detective whom I employed last summer to trace Aline. He failed at first, but when she came back to us and refused to reveal the secret of her absence, he set himself to work to ferret out the truth.”

“And succeeded,” said Oran Delaney, with bitter sadness. “And where is your clever detective now?”

“He is again on the track of my missing daughter. I have for the second time employed him to find her.”

“He shall be richly rewarded if he succeeds,” exclaimed Oran Delaney, earnestly.

He lay silent for a moment, and then added gravely and thoughtfully:

“I can bear no resentment against your clever detective, Mr. Rodney. I am glad now that the truth has been found out. A burden is lifted from my heart.”

“You are not angry with Mr. Lane for his bold invasion of your house, and his betrayal of your secret?” exclaimed Mr. Rodney.

“No, I am not angry. I am glad that the truth has been revealed. I feel quite curious to see your Mr. Lane.”

“Perhaps you will permit me to bring him to see you?” said the lawyer.

“Willingly,” answered Oran Delaney.

He did so the next day, after he had told Mr. Delaney’s story to him, and the good-looking detective spent an hour with the wounded man. Mr. Delaney was most anxious that Aline should be found.

“Only find her,” he said, earnestly, to Mr. Lane, “and you shall name your own reward.”

A strange expression gleamed in the eyes of the detective.

“I shall make every effort to find her,” he said. “But I tell you frankly, Mr. Delaney, I am not working up this case for money.”

“Of course you have a professional interest and reputation at stake,” said Mr. Delaney.

“It is not that, either,” said the detective.

They gazed steadily into each other’s eyes.

“I will tell you the truth, Mr. Delaney,” said Mr. Lane. “I find that my early professional interest in this case has merged into a romantic one. People call me a woman-hater where I am best known, and I confess that female society has hitherto had no charms for me. But the beauty and sweetness of Miss Rodney have won my heart. If I find her I shall ask no reward from her father except her hand, if she will give it to me.”

Mr. Lane paused and waited for a reply. He did not dream what an agonizing pang tore through Oran Delaney’s heart in that moment.

“Do you think she loves you, Mr. Lane?” he faltered then, in a hollow voice.

“Scarcely; for I have had no chance to woo her,” said Mr. Lane. “And yet it is so much better that she should marry that perhaps she will waive that consideration. Afterward I could teach her to love me.”

Again that fierce, jealous pang tore through Oran Delaney’s heart. A vision came over him of the beautiful young face and the violet eyes with their shady lashes of deepest jet. How much more beautiful it would be when the woman’s heart was awakened in her. How that charming face would be glorified by love!

“Ah, Heaven, only to call her mine!” he groaned to himself. “It is cruel, cruel, that this man should take advantage of her trouble to try to win her. He has no right to her. She is far above him. Her beauty and sweetness make her the peer of any one in the land.”

He silently repeated some lines to himself:

“A king might lay his scepter down,
But I am poor and naught;
The brow should wear a golden crown
That wears her in its thought.”

He looked fixedly at Mr. Lane.

“Why do you say that it will be better for Miss Rodney to marry?” he asked, slowly.

“Surely, you know that her long stay in Delaney House has so damaged her maiden fame that she can never take her proper place in the world until sheltered by some good man’s name,” said the detective.

“You forget that I have explained everything, and that Miss Rodney’s reputation is cleared from every shadow of blame,” exclaimed Mr. Delaney.

“No, I do not forget it. But I know that the world is censorious and cruel, and I am not sure whether it will accept your statement as true. At any rate, I am prepared to help Miss Rodney all that I can. I am rich and prosperous. I will marry her and take her away forever from this place where she has suffered so much if she will have me.”

He paused a moment, and then added:

“Of course if you were not already married, Mr. Delaney, you would be the most proper husband for Miss Rodney, but, as it is, I feel myself quite free to woo and wed her if I can, and to save her from all the troubles she would be likely to endure, unmarried.”

He went out and left Mr. Delaney to some bitter reflections.