"Because I am so happy," she said. "Oh, Robert, dear, so happy and thankful."
POSTSCRIPT
The latest news of Col. and Mrs. Anstruther is contained in a letter written by an elderly maiden lady, resident in the North Riding of Yorkshire, to a friend in London. It is dated some four years after the events already recorded.
Although its information is garbled and, to a certain extent, inaccurate, those who have followed the adventures of the young couple under discussion will be able to appreciate its opinions at their true value. When the writer states facts, of course, her veracity is unquestionable, but occasionally she flounders badly when she depends upon her own judgment.
Here is the letter:
"MY DEAR HELEN:
"I have not seen or heard of you during so long a time that I am simply dying to tell you all that is happening here. You will remember that some people named Anstruther bought the Fairlawn estate near our village some three years ago. They are, as you know, enormously rich. The doctor tells me that when they are not squeezing money out of the wretched Chinese, they dig it in barrow-loads out of some magic island in the Atlantic or the Pacific—I really forget which.
"Anyhow, they could afford to entertain much more than they do. Mrs. Anstruther is very nice looking, and could be a leader of society if she chose, but she seems to care for no one but her husband and her babies. She has a boy and a girl, very charming children, I admit, and you seldom see her without them. They have a French bonne apiece, and a most murderous-looking person—a Mahommedan native, I believe—stalks alongside and behaves as if he would instantly decapitate any person who as much as looked at them. Such a procession you never saw! Mrs. Anstruther's devotion to her husband is too absurd. He is a tall, handsome man, of distinguished appearance, but on the few occasions I have spoken to him he impressed me as somewhat taciturn. Yet to see the way in which his wife even looks at him you would imagine that he had not his equal in the world!
"I believe there is some secret in their lives. Colonel Anstruther used to be in the army—he is now in command of our local yeomanry—and although his name is 'Robert,' tout court, I have often heard Mrs. Anstruther call him 'Jenks.' Their boy, too, is christened Robert Jenks Anstruther.' Now, my dear Helen, do make inquiries about them in town circles. I particularly wish you to find out who is this person 'Jenks'—a most vulgar name. I am sure you will unearth something curious, because Mrs. Anstruther was a Miss Deane, daughter of the baronet, and Anstruther's people are well known in Yorkshire. There are absolutely no Jenkses connected with them on either side.
"I think I can help you by another clue, as a very odd incident occurred at our hunt ball last week. The Anstruthers, I must tell you, usually go away for the winter, to China, or to their fabulous island. This year they remained at home, and Colonel Anstruther became M.F.H., as he is certainly a most liberal man so far as sport and charity are concerned.
"Well, dear, the Dodgsons—you remember the Leeds clothier people—having contrived to enter county society, invited the Earl of Ventnor down for the ball. He, it seems, knew nothing about Anstruther being M.F.H., and of course Mrs. Anstruther received. The moment Lord Ventnor heard her name he was very angry. He said he did not care to meet her, and left for London by the next train. The Dodgsons were awfully annoyed with him, and Mrs. Dodgson had the bad taste to tell Mrs, Anstruther all about it. And what do you think she said—'Lord Ventnor need not have been so frightened. My husband has not brought his hunting-crop with him!'
"I was not there, but young Barker told me that Mrs. Anstruther looked very impressive as she said this. 'Stunning!' was the word he used, but young Barker is a fool, and thinks Mrs. A. is the most beautiful woman in Yorkshire. Her dress, they say, was magnificent, which I can hardly credit, as she usually goes about in the plainest tailor-made clothes. By the way. I forgot to mention that the Anstruthers have restored our parish church. The vicar, of course, is enraptured with them. I dislike people who are so free with their money and yet reserved in their friendship. It is a sure sign, when they court popularity, that they dread something leaking out about the past.
"Do write soon. Don't forget 'Jenks' and 'Lord Ventnor'; those are the lines of inquiry.
"Yours,
"MATILDA.
"PS.—Perhaps I am misjudging them. Mrs. Anstruther has just sent me an invitation to an 'At Home' next Thursday.—M.
"PPS.—Dear me, this letter will never get away, I have just destroyed another envelope to tell you that the vicar came in to tea. From what he told me about Lord Ventnor, I imagine that Mrs. Anstruther said no more than he deserved.—M."
NOTE.—Colonel Anstruther's agents discovered, after long and costly inquiry, that a Shields man named James Spence, a marine engineer, having worked for a time as a miner in California, shipped as third engineer on a vessel bound for Shanghai. There be quitted her. He passed some time ashore in dissipation, took another job on a Chinese river steamer, and was last heard of some eighteen months before the Sirdar was wrecked. He then informed a Chinese boarding-house keeper that he was going to make his fortune by accompanying some deep-sea fishermen, and he bought some stores and tools from a marine-store dealer. No one knew when or where he went, but from that date all trace of him disappeared. The only persons who mourned his loss were his mother and sister. The last letter they received from him was posted in Shanghai. Though the evidence connecting him with the recluse of Rainbow Island was slight, and purely circumstantial, Colonel Anstruther provided for the future of his relatives in a manner that secured their lasting gratitude.