CHAPTER XIV.
ROY.
Fanny’s letter had reached him in Ridgefield, where, with his father and mother, he was spending a few days at the Prospect House. Its contents electrified them all and no one more than Uncle Zach.
“Mark and Jeff both alive!” he said. “I never b’lieved Jeff was dead. He ain’t the kind, but for Mark, that I sot such store by not to be killed is queer and I’ve mourned for him as I would for Johnny. And he took another name, and married another woman and had another girl! I didn’t think that of Mark! No, marm, I didn’t. And he is Fanny’s father? I’ll be dumbed! I’d like to see him, though, and Jeff, too. Like fust rate to see him turn a summerset on the grass again. Give ’em my respects and tell ’em to come home and bring that girl if they want to. Ridgefield air and Dot will soon bring her round. She must be a clipper to spring at a robber like that. No wonder she’s got heart disease. It makes mine wobble round to think of it.”
Uncle Zach had his remarks mostly to himself, as Roy was talking excitedly to his father and mother of the journey he was going to take at once.
“Fanny needs me, and I am going,” he said, and he started that night, and several days later reached Clark’s very hot, very tired, very dusty, and very impatient to see Fanny. “You say she is still in the mountains. How long does it take to get there?” he asked Mrs. Prescott, whom he had surprised as she was taking her lunch in her room.
She was very glad to see him, for she was getting tired of waiting for Fanny and anxious as to what the result of the waiting might be. She was not hard enough to hope Inez would die, but could not help thinking that if she did one possible annoyance would be removed, and this thought was in her mind when Roy came suddenly upon her, overwhelming her with so many questions that for a few minutes she could only listen without replying. When at last she had a chance she repeated all that had happened since she came into the valley, dwelling most upon the loss of her diamonds for which Roy did not particularly care. He was more interested in Fanny. Once or twice during his rapid journey it had occurred to him that his newly found relatives might prove awkward appendages if Fanny insisted upon having them near her. But he put the feeling aside as unworthy of him.
“If she can stand it, I can,” he thought, and began to wonder what manner of people his father-in-law elect and sister-in-law might be.
Craig and Alice had both said that Mark was a gentleman and Roy accepted that so far as it went. He might have been a gentleman when they knew him, but he had passed through many phases since and there was no guessing what he was now, except that he was Fanny’s father, and as such must be respected. Mrs. Prescott did not help to reassure him and in all she said he detected a keen regret for what had happened, and that it was Inez who troubled her most. Mark would never intrude himself upon her, but Fanny would insist upon taking Inez to New York, if she lived, as she probably would.
“And if she does, oppose it with all your strength. We cannot have it. And bring Fanny away at once,” she said to Roy, when he left her for his drive to the cottage.
The sun was down when he reached it, but there was still light enough for him to see the gleam of a white dress upon the piazza. Something told him it was Fanny, and quickening his step he soon had her in his arms, smothering her with kisses, while she cried for joy. He did not at first notice how worn and pale she was, he was so glad to see her and so struck with her surroundings.