A Hero of the Pen

"Well then, Jane, it lies in your power to shorten this sacrificial period. Give me now the right you were to confer upon me after a year's delay, and you fulfil my highest wish. In a few weeks the necessary formalities might be arranged, and we could pursue together our continental travels; or, if you wished, I would at once take you back to America."

"No, Henry, no! that is impossible!"

Alison let her hand fall, and morosely stepped back, "Impossible!" repeated he cuttingly.

"And why so?"

Jane might well feel that her almost violent refusal rendered an explanation necessary.

"I am still in mourning for my father!" she said gently, "and in this entire matter I simply follow his arrangements and his wishes."

"It was your wish, Jane, not Mr. Forest's, I understood, that, in the presence of a dying father, you did not wish to be a bride; and it was my own journey which so long deferred the time fixed upon for our union. The one reason exists no longer; and destiny, which after months of separation, has now united us, has done away with the other. If, during your year of mourning, you do not wish to marry, so be it. I will not urge you, but I implore, I demand that you no longer veil our mutual relations in this profound secrecy; that you publicly acknowledge yourself my betrothed, and give me the right to visit you as your accepted suitor in the house of your relatives."

CHAPTER VIII.

The Heiress at Bay

There was such energy in his manner, such determination in his just demand, that evasion seemed impossible, and any other young lady would scarce have attempted it; but Alison forgot that Jane–was quite a match for him, that her energy was quite equal to his, and that this tone was least of all designed to incline her to obedience. This "I demand," sounded very strange and harsh in the ears of the proud girl. It called forth all her obstinacy.

"You forget, Mr. Alison, that the time has not yet come for you to 'demand,'" she said coldly. "I have imposed upon you a condition which you promised to fulfil; the reason therefor, now as then, rests solely in my judgment. I do not release you from your promise. I will not!"

The young lady's entire strength of determination lay in this "I will not?" and it sounded just as defiant and provoking as those other words from her lips a few days before. Perhaps she wished to drive this man also to extremities; but here the effect was different.

Alison was for an instant silent. Had Jane been merely beautiful and not rich, the wounded self-esteem of this man would have perhaps called forth an answer, which, from the bluntness of both characters, must have led to an irreparable breach. But the young merchant knew how to count the cost; he would not give up this valuable possession for a woman's whim, and he well knew that here he could assert no authority. He yielded; but there was a portentous cloud on his forehead.

"You are as immovable and hard as a stone, Jane! Well, let it be as you wish, but"–his voice trembled in suppressed resentment–"but do not forget that I, too, have received a promise, and that at the appointed time, I will demand its fulfilment, inexorably as you have demanded mine."

Jane had become ashy pale, but her eyes met his firmly and undoubtedly. "My word is as good as my oath; I would break one as soon as the other," she said.

"And you repeat this oath to me now of your own free will?" His eyes were fixed searchingly upon her face. She seemed to hesitate for one moment, only one; then she laid her hand hastily in his. "I repeat it–of my own free will!"

Alison drew a deep breath, and pressed the hand ardently. "I thank you, Jane," he said. "In the spring I shall come back to demand my wife; until then, you are free as you have wished to be." A pause, oppressive for both, followed; Jane was the first to speak.

"I think we ought not to prolong this interview. It must be time to return to my aunt and Atkins."

Alison made no reply; he silently opened the door, and followed her into the next room, where Doctor Stephen had meantime appeared. The doctor's jovial vivacity which quite equalled Atkins' sarcasm, led the conversation into more agreeable channels.

"Well, how do you find Miss Jane?" asked Atkins, as half an hour later he withdrew with his young countryman.

"Greatly changed!" was the short morose answer.

Atkins looked vexed. "Foolishness! It is you who are changed, Henry! You have caught the spleen in England; it is time that merry Paris should be curing it."

Alison made no reply, he hastily reached Atkins his hand, and went.

CHAPTER IX.

On the Scent

Meantime Jane had sought her own room, whither Atkins now followed her. She advanced to meet him, and hastily, as if she would cut short any other topic which might be supposed to more nearly concern her, she asked; "Do you bring me tidings of your journey? I can imagine its success! It is sheer foolishness, like all else that has thus far been done!"

"It is not so this time!"

Jane gazed at him as if she did not trust her ears.

"What do you say?"

"We have a trace."

Jane trembled. "Of my brother?"

"Be calm, be calm, Miss Jane," said Atkins, coolly, as he laid a hand upon her arm. "The matter is in no way decided! A trace which appeared only to vanish immediately, and which leaves us only a weak prop for future investigation; that is at present the only result I can impart to you."

Miss Forest had already regained her self-possession. "Very well! It is the first sign of life and being. What have you discovered? How did you discover it?"

Atkins quietly drew her to the sofa, and sat down by her side.

"Moderate your impatience, Miss Jane. I will be brief and clear as possible; you may learn later the results. You know that as we passed through Hamburg I took all necessary steps, I notified the police, I advertised in the public journals; but as usual in such cases, no answer came. Four weeks after, at your request, I returned to Hamburg to convince myself personally, of the hopelessness of our efforts. The first days of my stay, this seemed to be the only result of my journey; but on the third, a sailor came to see me."

"A sailor?" repeated Jane in astonishment.

"Yes, he had just landed, and had accidentally seen my advertisement. He came to tell me that twenty years before, some neighbors of his parents, poor fishermen who lived in a little village on the coast of the North Sea, coming from Hamburg, where they had been to market, had brought with them a boy they had found there, had kept him and reared him with their own son. The man's statement was so positive that it induced me to pay him the reward offered, and to write at once to the designated place."

Jane had listened with passionate intentness.

"And you have received an answer?"

"Yes, an answer with the minutest details. You will yourself read the letter, it has convinced me that this boy was really our young master Forest. The date, the age, the incidental descriptions, all agree with my advertisement. The failure of our investigations hitherto is easily explained. With the usual indiscretion of such people, instead of notifying the authorities of their discovery of the lost child, these fishermen calmly waited for some person to claim him sooner or later, and meantime, adopted him as their own. To that wretched, sandy fishing-hamlet, shut out from all the world, a newspaper scarce ever penetrates, this accounts for the failure of Doctor Stephen's efforts to find the child."

"Well, what about these people?" interrupted Jane, with eager impatience.

"They are dead! They died a few years after, and as their poor neighbors could and would not be burdened with the care and support of the two boys, the fisherman's son was sent to a relative, an artisan in a small North-German town, and young master Forest was received into the house of a clergyman in one of the adjoining villages; but years ago he gave up his parish and left that region. Here ends the letter, and my investigations for the present."

With a deep sigh, Jane arose. Discouraging as were these last words, it required only the slightest hint of her brother's possible existence, to arouse all her energies to action. In one minute she had reviewed all, had mastered the whole situation with her wonted clear-sightedness and promptness.

"We must above all things ascertain the abode of this clergyman, and in order to do this we must make inquiries in his former parish. If he is not to be found, then we must extend our inquiries to the mechanic who adopted the other boy; perhaps he still keeps up some sort of correspondence with his youthful associate. In any event, we must quickly and decidedly follow the clue we had scarce hoped to find."

"That is my opinion. I only wished to advise with you in regard to the necessary proceedings. But one thing more! I have at your express wish, thus far, kept all this from Mr. Alison; he has no suspicion of the possible existence of a brother-in-law. Is it not time now to confide it to him?"

"No!" said Jane, almost roughly. "Not until we are sure. We could expect from him neither assistance nor gratification in efforts which would possibly deprive him of half the fortune upon which he reckons."

CHAPTER X.

FOR VALUE RECEIVED

The strange tone of her voice was remarked by Atkins. "What has occurred between you and Henry? He, too, was out of humor. Have you had a quarrel?"

"Yes," said Jane with sullen frankness, "I offended him."