“Fool that I was!” cried the young fellow, jumping up and pacing the room with a half-tragic air. “If I hadn’t been an idiot—a simpleton—a gosling—if I’d had a spark of sense, I could have brought that same Jane Chetwynd, and the adorable little Lady Jane, straight to your door. Instead of that, I let them get off the train at Gretna alone when it was nearly dark, and—Heaven only knows what has happened to them!”
“Arthur Maynard, what do you mean?” asked Mrs. Lanier, rising to her feet, pale and trembling. “When—where—where is she now—where is Jane Chetwynd?”
“I wish I knew. I’m as wretched and anxious as you are, Mrs. Lanier, and what has happened to-day has quite upset me; but I must tell you my story, as you have told yours.”
And then, while Mrs. Lanier listened with clasped hands and intent gaze, Arthur Maynard told of the meeting with Lady Jane and her mother on the train, of the gift of “Tony,” the blue heron, and of the separation at Gretna.
“Oh, Arthur, why—why didn’t you go with them and bring them to me? She was a stranger, and she didn’t know the way, and your being our friend and all.”
“My dear Mrs. Lanier, she never mentioned your name or number. How could I guess you were the friend to whom she was going? and I didn’t want to seem presuming.”
“But where did she go? She never came here!”
“Wait till I tell you the rest, and then we will discuss that. I stood on the platform until the train started, and watched them walking toward the ferry, the mother very feebly, and the child skipping along with the little basket, delighted with her new possession; then I went back to my seat, angry enough at myself because I wasn’t with them, when what should I see on the floor, under their seat, but a book they had left. I have it now, and I’ll bring it to you to-morrow; inside of the book was a photograph—a duplicate of this, and on the fly-leaf was written ‘Jane Chetwynd.’”
“I thought so! I knew it was Jane!” exclaimed Mrs. Lanier excitedly. “But she never came here. Where could she have gone?”
“That’s the mystery. She may have changed her mind and gone to a hotel, or something may have happened to her. I don’t know. I don’t like to think of it! However, the next day I advertised the book, and advertised it for a week; but it was never claimed, and from that day to this I’ve never been able to discover either the mother or the child.”