In spite of his affection for the child, his feelings did not soften toward the mother; he could not forget that she had disappointed him and preferred a stranger to him; that she had given up wealth and position to bury herself in obscurity with a man he hated. It was a bitter thought, yet he would spare no pains to solve the mystery that hung over her last days.
Money and influence together soon put the machinery of the law in motion; therefore it was not a month after Mr. Chetwynd’s arrival in New Orleans before everything was as clear as day. The young widow was traced to Madame Jozain’s; there were many who remembered her death and funeral. The physician’s certificate at the Board of Health bore the name of Dr. Debrot, who was found, and interviewed during one of his lucid moments; he described the young mother and child, and even remembered the blue heron; and his testimony, sad though it was, was still a comfort to Jane Chetwynd’s friends. She had died of the same fever that killed her husband, and she had been carefully nursed and decently buried. Afterward, the Bergeron tomb was opened, the remains identified, and then sent to New York to rest with her mother, in the stately Chetwynd tomb, in Greenwood cemetery.
Then a careful search was made for her personal effects, but nothing was recovered except the watch that Paichoux was fortunate enough to secure. Mr. Chetwynd handed Paichoux a large check in exchange for it, but the honest man refused to take any more than he had paid Raste Jozain in order to get possession of it. However, the millionaire proved that he was not ungrateful nor lacking in appreciation, when he presented him with a rich, plain watch suitably inscribed, from the donor to a most worthy friend. And when the pretty Marie was married, she received from the same jeweler who made the watch an exquisite silver tea-service, which was the pride of her life, and which was cherished not only for its value, but because it was a gift from Lady Jane’s grandpapa.
Mr. Chetwynd made a number of visits to Good Children Street in company with Mrs. Lanier and Lady Jane, and there were a great many long conversations between Mam’selle Diane, the millionaire, and the banker’s wife, while Lady Jane played with her jolly little friend, the canary, among the branches of the rose-bush. During these conversations there was a great deal of argument and anxious urging on the part of the visitors, and a great many excuses and much self-depreciation on the part of the gentle, faded lady.
“I have been buried so long,” she would say pathetically, “that the great world will appal and confuse me. I shall be like a blind person suddenly made sensible of the light.”
“But you will soon become accustomed to the light,” urged Mrs. Lanier.
“And I might long for seclusion again; at my age one cannot easily change one’s habits.”
“You shall have all the seclusion you wish for,” said Mr. Chetwynd kindly.
“Besides I am so old-fashioned,” murmured Mam’selle Diane, blushing deeply.
“A quality which I greatly admire,” returned Mr. Chetwynd, with a courtly bow.