After studying Messrs. Green and Richardson’s letter with most careful attention, Fergus came to the conclusion that it would be as well to write to Sir Hugh Redmond. He was very careful to post this letter himself, and, though he confided in no one, thinking a secret is seldom safe with a woman, he could not hide from Lilian and Aunt Jeanie that he was “a bit fashed” about something.
“For it is not like our Fergus,” observed the old lady, tenderly, “to be stalking about the rooms and passages like a sair-hearted ghost.”
Sir Hugh was sitting over his solitary breakfast, with Pierre beside him, when, in listlessly turning over his pile of letters, the Scotch postmark on one arrested his attention, and he opened it with some eagerness. It was headed, “The Manse, Rowan-Glen,” and was evidently written by a stranger; yes, he had never heard the name Fergus Duncan.
“Dear Sir,” it commenced, “two or three days ago I saw your advertisement in the ‘Standard,’ and wrote at once to your solicitors, Messrs. Green and Richardson, begging them to furnish me with the necessary particulars for identifying the person of Lady Redmond. The answer I received from them yesterday has decided me to act on their advice, and correspond personally with yourself. My aunt, Mrs. Duncan, has had a young married lady and her child staying with her all the winter. She calls herself Mrs. St. Clair, though I may as well tell you that she has owned to me that this is only her husband’s second name”—here Hugh started, and a sudden flush crossed his face.
“She arrived quite unexpectedly last September. She had been at the Manse as a child, with her father, Colonel Mordaunt;” here Hugh dropped the letter and hid his face in his hands. “My God, I have not deserved this goodness,” rose to his lips; and then he hastily finished the sentence, “and she begged my aunt to shelter her and the child, as she had been obliged to leave her husband; and as she appeared very ill and unhappy, my aunt could not do otherwise.
“The particulars I have gleaned from Messrs. Green and Richardson’s letter have certainly led me to the conclusion that Mrs. St. Clair is really Lady Redmond. Mrs. St. Clair is certainly not nineteen, and her baby is eleven months old; she is very small in person—indeed, in stature almost a child; and every item in the lawyer’s letter is fully corroborated.
“We have not been able to gain any information from Mrs. St. Clair herself; she declines to explain why she has left her home, and only appears agitated when questions are put to her. Her fixed idea seems to be that her husband does not want her. Her health has suffered much from ceaseless fretting, but she is better now, and the child thrives in our mountain air.
“As the sight of your handwriting would only excite Mrs. St. Clair’s suspicions, it would be as well to put your answer under cover, or telegraph your reply. I need not tell you that you will be welcome at the Manse, if you should think it well to come to Rowan-Glen—I remain, dear sir, yours faithfully,
“Fergus Duncan.”
A few hours later a telegram reached the Manse.