Part 54 (1/2)
”I tell ye he's no dead!” cried Jean, springing to her feet.
”Hush, child. He maun be dead, for ain of them's dead, and this is Peter Junior.”
”Read it again, Aunt Ellen,” said Hester, wearily. ”You'll see that the Elder brings a fearful charge against Richard. He thinks Richard is making a false claim that he is--Peter--my boy.”
Jean sat back in her chair crying silently and shrinking into herself as if she were afraid to say more, and Ellen went on. ”Listen, now, what yer frien' says. 'The Elder is wrong, for Bertrand'--that's her husband, I'm thinkin'--?”
”Yes.”
”'Bertrand and Betty,--' Who's Betty, noo?”
”Betty is their daughter. She was to--have--married my son.”
”Good. So she would know her lover. 'Betty and I have seen him,' she says, 'and have talked with him, and we know he is Peter Junior,' she says. 'Richard Kildene has disappeared,' she says, 'and yet we know he is living somewhere and he must be found. We fear the Elder will not withdraw the charge until Richard is located'--An' that will be like Peter, too--'and meanwhile your son Peter will have to lie in jail, where he is now, unless you can clear matters up here by coming home and identifying him, and that you can surely do.'--An' that's all vera weel. There's neathin' to go distraught over in the like o' that.
An' here she says, 'He's a n.o.ble, fine-looking man, and you'll be proud of him when you see him.' Oh, 'tis a fine letter, an' it's Peter wi' his stubbornness has been makin' a boggle o' things. If I were na lame, I'd go back wi' ye an' gie Peter a piece o' my mind.”
”An' I'll locate Richard for ye!” cried Jean, rising to her feet and wiping away the fast-falling tears, laughing and weeping all in the same moment. ”Whish't, Ellen, it's ye'rsel' that kens neathin' aboot it, an' I'll tell ye the truth the noo--that I've kept to mysel' this lang time till my conscience has nigh whupped me intil my grave.”
”Tak' a drap o' whuskey, Jean, ye're flyin' oot o' yer heid. It's the hystiricks she's takin'.”
”Ah, no! What is it, Aunt Jean? What is it?” cried Hester, eagerly, drawing her to the seat by her side again.
”It's no the hystiricks,” cried Jean, rocking back and forth and patting her hands on her knees and speaking between laughing and crying. ”It's the truth at last, that I've been lyin' aboot these three lang years, thank the Lord!”
”Jean, is it thankin' the Lord ye are, for lyin'?”
”Ellen, ye mind whan ye broke ye'r leg an' lay in the south chamber that lang sax months?”
”Aye, weel do I mind it.”
”Lat be wi' ye're interruptin' while I tell't. He came here.”
”Who came here?”
”Richard--the poor lad! He tell't me all aboot it. How he had a mad anger on him, an' kill't his cousin Peter Junior whan they'd been like brithers all their lives, an' hoo he pushed him over the brink o' a gre't precipice to his death, an' hoo he must forever flee fra' the law an' his uncle's wrath. Noo it's--”
”Oh, Aunt Jean!” cried Hester, despairingly. ”Don't you see that what you say only goes to prove my husband right? Yet how could he claim to be Peter--it--it's not like the boy. Richard never, never would--”
”He may ha' been oot o' his heid thinkin' he pushed him over the brink. I ha'e na much opeenion o' the judgment o' a man ony way. They never know whan to be set, an' whan to gie in. Think shame to yersel', Jean, to be hidin' things fra me the like o' that an' then lyin' to me.”
”He was repent.i.t, Ellen. Ye can na' tak the power o' the Lord in yer ain han's an' gie a man up to the law whan he's repent.i.t. If ye'd seen him an' heard the words o' him and seen him greet, ye would ha' hid him in yer hairt an' covered wi' the mantle o' charity, as I did.
Moreover, I saved ye from dour lyin' yersel'. Ye mind whan that man that Peter sent here to find Richard came, hoo ye said till him that Richard had never been here? Ye never knew why for that man wanted Richard, but I knew an' I never tell't ye. An' if ye had known what I knew, ye never could ha' tell't him what ye did so roundly an' sent him aboot his business wi' a straight face.”
”An' noo whaur is Richard?”
”He's awa' in Paris pentin' pictures. He went there to learn to be a penter.”
”An' whaur gat he the money to go wi'? There's whaur the new black silk dress went ye should ha' bought yersel' that year. Ye lat me think it went to the doctor. Child! Child!”