The Further Adventures of Quincy Adams Sawyer and Mason\'s Corner Folks

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Florence, after awhile, made a confidante of Aunt Ella and told her
about Captain Hornaby. She confessed her interest in him and said
that notwithstanding his crime she loved him, but that her father
would never forgive him.

"What part of England did he come from?" asked Aunt Ella.

"He said from Hornaby--that the place was named after his family.
Their home was called Hornaby Hook, because, as he said, it was built
upon a promontory in the form of a hook."

"What is his father's name?"

"Sir Wilfred, and Reginald is the fourth son."

"No chance of his ever getting the title," remarked Aunt Ella.

"I wonder where Hornaby Hook is," said Florence.

"That's easily found out. Linda has _Burke's Peerage_ and I'll write
to her to-day."

Lady Fernborough more than kept her promise, for in her letter she
told the Countess Florence's unhappy love story besides asking for
information about the Hornaby family.

Linda's reply was a revelation.

"MY DEAR AUNT ELLA,

"I was very sorry to hear that Quincy's sister has been so
unfortunate in her love affair, and astonished to find that Captain
Hornaby is the cause of it. You will be surprised to learn that
Algernon is well acquainted with Sir Wilfred who is an old-fashioned
English gentleman and the soul of honour. He has met the Captain and
thought him a fine young fellow. Hornaby Hook is on the Sussex coast
about ten miles from us. Come and see us and bring Florence with you.
Perhaps there is an explanation of the affair which the Captain can
give. He should not be condemned without a hearing. Give my love to
Alice and tell her I'm coming to see that baby very soon. With love,
ever yours, LINDA."

Aunt Ella was now in her element. There was a mystery to be explained
and she held the key. She told Florence where Hornaby Hook was, and
that the Hornaby family was a fine one, and that Sir Wilfred was held
in the highest respect by everybody, but did not mention Linda's
suggestion of a visit, and a possible explanation. She knew Florence
would not accompany her if there was any possibility of her meeting
the Captain. It would appear as though she was running after him, and
no American girl, especially a Sawyer, would do that.

Sir Stuart was greatly interested in young Quincy, and Mrs. Villiers,
the housekeeper, thought him the handsomest and best baby she had
ever seen. Thus the way was paved for the first step in Aunt Ella's
plot.

"Alice, do you think you would be very lonesome if I went away for a
week?"

"Why no, Aunt Ella. Why should I be? I have the baby, and Sir Stuart
and Mrs. Villiers are both goodness itself to me."

"Florence is not looking very well. Don't you think a week at the
seashore would do her good?"

"I wish she could go, poor girl. When I think of her, I say to myself
that I have no right to be unhappy. If Quincy is dead, he died nobly,
to save others. But the shame connected with Captain Hornaby is what
Florence feels so deeply."

That same day Aunt Ella wrote to Linda that she was coming with
Florence, and that Algernon and she must arrange in some way to bring
about that "explanation."

Algernon, Earl of Sussex, and the Countess Linda lived at Ellersleigh
in the County of Sussex, not many miles from historic Hastings. To
Aunt Ella and Florence they extended a warm and heartfelt welcome,
and Florence, used as she was to the luxuries of life, could not but
marvel at the beauty and even splendour that surrounded the Countess--
once an American country girl named Linda Putnam.

"I have sent out cards for a dinner party next Thursday," said Linda
to Aunt Ella. "There will be an opportunity for that 'explanation,'
but you must assume the responsibility if there should be a tragic
ending."

"We must hope for the best," replied Aunt Ella. "I will gather up the
fragments after the explosion."

From the expression on Florence's face, when Sir Wilfred Hornaby and
Captain Reginald Hornaby were announced as guests, the explosion
seemed imminent.

In her mind, she had looked forward to such a meeting with a
sensation of delight. Now that it had come her pride was up in arms.
She had been tricked into coming. The Countess and Aunt Ella had
arranged this meeting. Perhaps he had been told that she would be
present. Well, if they did meet, he would have to do the talking. She
had no explanation to make. If he had one, he must introduce the
subject.

At the dinner Florence sat next to Sir Wilfred, but the Captain was
far removed on the other side of the long table. Sir Wilfred was
politely attentive. Did he know of his son's crime? Evidently not--
but, if he did, he had condoned the offence. But how could he if he
was the man of honour that the Countess had pictured him in her
letter to Aunt Ella? No, the son had deceived _his_ father as he had
_her_ father. Did she really love him? Had she forgiven him? If he
had proposed when Florence was in that state of uncertainty, his
rejection would have been swift and positive.

When the dinner was over, the Captain, apparently unconscious of
guilt, approached Florence. He offered his arm.

"Will you come with me, Miss Sawyer? I have a very important question
to ask you."

Should she go? He was going to ask her a question. She had many to
ask him. This unpleasant uncertainty must end--now, was the accepted
time.

She took his arm, and he made his way to the conservatory--that haven
of confidences, where so many lovers have been made happy, or
unhappy.

"Why have you not answered my letters?" he said.

"I never received them." Her voice was cold, and she removed her hand
from his arm.

"I sent them in your father's care."

"That is probably the reason why I did not get them."

"Why should he refuse to give them to you? I borrowed money from him
but I repaid him before I left America."

He thought she was not acquainted with his perfidy. She would
undeceive him.

"Did you tell him the truth when you borrowed it?"

His face flushed. How could she know? But she did. He would be honest
with her.

"No, I did not."

"I knew it. My sister Maude recovered your coat, but there was no
money or bills of exchange in your pocket book--only a few visiting
cards bearing the name of Col. Arthur Spencer."

The young man bowed his head. He was guilty. She would leave him
without another word. She turned to go. He caught her hand, which
she, indignantly, withdrew from his grasp.

"I will explain, Miss Sawyer." Was he going to tell the truth, or
invent another story?

"Arthur Spencer was the Colonel of the first regiment with which I
was connected. I do not belong to it now. He is a poor man, and an
inveterate gambler. I had not seen him for two years, when we met in
New York just before I went to Boston. You are tired, Miss Sawyer."

He pointed to a seat beneath some palms, and led her, unresistingly,
to it.

"He asked me to dinner with him, and I went. Then he suggested a game
of cards while we smoked and I foolishly consented. The stakes, at
first, were small, and he won rapidly. He increased his bets and I
was forced, against my will, to meet them. When we stopped playing,
he had not only won all my money, but had my 'I O U' for three
hundred dollars. I had to borrow money from him to pay my hotel bill
and fare to Boston."

Florence nodded. She could not speak.

"I had letters of introduction to Boston families--among them, your
own. When that accident happened--" she looked up at him inquiringly--

[Illustration: "You have acknowledged that you are a gambler]

"No, don't think that of me--it was not intentional on my part--I was
without money--the Colonel must be paid--my allowance was not due for
ten days--I invented the story that I told your father."

"It was a lie!" Florence choked as she uttered the accusing words.

"Yes, it was a lie, and one for which I have sincerely repented, I
told my father, and he forgave me, but said, as the coat was gone, to
let the matter drop, that nothing would be gained by confessing to
your father as he had been paid, and had met with no loss."

Florence sprang to her feet. "No loss!" she cried. "How can you say
that? You have acknowledged that you are a gambler and a liar--why
not finish the story and confess your crime?"

"Crime, Florence! What do you mean?"

Her lips curled

"You do not know what I mean?"

"No, as God hears me, I do not. You accuse me--of what?"

She felt that the crux was reached. "Did you not know when the check
for five hundred dollars came back to my father's bank that it had
been raised to five thousand dollars?"

The Captain reeled, and came near falling. He clutched at the palm
tree which sustained him until he regained his footing.

"My God! And you have thought me the thief!"

"What else could I think?"

"I can't understand.... I met Col. Spencer in Boston--those birds of
prey always follow their victims, and gave him the check, receiving
two hundred dollars in return. He must have--and yet I cannot believe
he would do such a thing. He is in London now. To-morrow I will go
and find him."

"But if he denies it--how can you prove him guilty?"

"Unless he frees my name from such a charge--I will challenge him--
and kill him!"

Florence could no longer act as accuser. Her heart plead for the
young Englishman who had confessed his error, but who so strenuously
denied his participation in a crime. "Miss Sawyer, will you
mercifully suspend judgment until my return from London?"

She did not reply in words, but gave him her hand.

When they rejoined the company both Linda and Aunt Ella noticed
Florence's heightened colour and the brightness of her eyes.

"He must have explained," said Linda, "when an occasion offered."

"I hope so," was Aunt Ella's reply, and she felicitated herself upon
the success of their joint plot.

CHAPTER XIV

AN AMERICAN HEIRESS

For some time after rejoining the company, Florence was so busy with
her thoughts that she paid little attention to what was going on
about her. She was aroused from her abstraction by a sharp voice:

"Don't you think Captain Hornaby is a very handsome young man?"
Florence looked and found that her questioner was Lady Elfrida
Hastings, the only sister of the Earl. When that lady had visited
them at Nahant, she had considered her the embodiment of all the
female virtues. She recalled her statuesque repose, and her
aristocratic manner which had so pleased her father. She also
remembered the morning when she was discovered by Maude practising
the Lady Elfrida's poses, and her sister's inquiry as to whether she
had a chill and wanted the quinine pills.

Feeling the necessity of saying something, she replied: "I haven't
noticed him particularly."

The Lady Elfrida, perfect gentlewoman that she was, said severely,
for her, "Your failure to do so, certainly was not due to lack of
opportunity."

So, her long absence in his company had been noticed. She was at a
loss for a reply, when to her great relief the Earl approached and
asked if she would play a certain piece which he had admired very
much when in America.

"What was its name?"

"I can't remember," said the Earl. "It ran something like this," and
he hummed a few measures.

"Oh," cried Florence, "Old Folks at Home." The scene through which
she had gone with the Captain had awakened deep emotions, and her
voice was in the temperamental condition to give a sadly-weird effect
to the lines of the chorus. When she sang

"Oh, my heart is sad and weary"

the Lady Elfrida turned to Mrs. Ellice, the Rector's wife, and
remarked, "There was a rumour that Captain Hornaby was greatly
interested in Miss Sawyer, but from something she told me to-night I
do not think it will be a match."

"Why, what did she say?" asked Mrs. Ellice with natural feminine
curiosity as regards love affairs.

"I hardly feel warranted in repeating it," said the Lady Elfrida, "as
it was given to me in confidence."

Later in the evening the Lady Elfrida sought Captain Hornaby. "My
dear Captain, don't you think Miss Sawyer sings divinely?"

The Captain, with his mind on Col. Spencer and the tenfold check,
replied, rather brusquely, "I'm not a great lover of negro melodies."

The Lady Elfrida felt sure that Captain Hornaby was still an
"eligible," but she reflected that he was a fourth son and dependent
upon the bounty of his father and elder brother, and that her dowry
must come from her brother who, in her opinion, had a very
extravagant wife--but none of those American girls had any idea of
economy.

The next morning, Captain Hornaby went to London in search of Colonel
Spencer. He visited his clubs, and, because it was necessary, many of
the gambling places, but his quest was fruitless. As a last resort he
went to the War Office and learned that the Colonel had sailed the
day before to join his regiment in India.

The Captain reported the failure of his mission to Florence.

"I have been talking the matter over with Aunt Ella. She advises me
to send a cable message to father asking what bank the check was
deposited in and by whom."

"He may have cashed it at your father's bank," said the Captain.

"Then Aunt Ella says my father can see the bank officers and make
sure that the Colonel got the money."

"I will go back to London to-morrow and send the message in your
name."

"The story deepens," said the Captain, when he returned with the
reply from the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer. It read,

"State National. Deposited five hundred. Revere House. Interviewed my
bank."

"What does it mean?" asked Florence. "So many words are omitted. I
can't make sense of it."

"It means," said the Captain, "that Col. Spencer is innocent. He was
staying at the Revere House when I paid him his three hundred
dollars. He must have cashed your father's check at the hotel, they
paying him five hundred dollars only, and they, I mean the hotel
proprietors, deposited it in their bank, the State National."

"But what do the last three words mean?"

"They mean that some one in your father's bank raised the check and
he has seen the bank officers about it."

"I'm so glad," cried Florence. "You must come and explain it all to
Aunt Ella."

She was greatly pleased to learn that Captain Hornaby was innocent of
any complicity in the embezzlement, and said to Florence: "You will
get a letter from your father telling you who the real criminal is,"
and turning to the Captain, continued, "We go back to Fernborough
Hall to-morrow, Captain Hornaby, but when that letter comes we will
send for you."

"I can bear the suspense now that Colonel Spencer and myself are free
from any charge of criminality, but I greatly regret, Miss Sawyer,
that your father has met with such a heavy loss."

"Don't worry, yet, Captain," said Aunt Ella. "Florence's father won't
be out any money if there's any legal way of making the bank bear the
loss."

When Aunt Ella and Florence returned to Fernborough Hall they told
Alice the wonderful story.

"I am so glad for your sake, Florence, and the Captain's too. I think
Aunt Ella's suggestion about sending the cablegram to your father was
an excellent one."

The story was told, also, to Sir Stuart. He was gratified to learn
that two officers of Her Majesty's army had been freed from the
charge of embezzlement, but deplored the fact that gambling was so
prevalent among them.

"I am an Englishman born and bred," said he, "but I think the law of
primogeniture is, as a general rule, a bad one. Driving, as it does,
the younger sons into the army, the navy, the church, and the law may
be beneficial, for the branches of our national defence and the
professions must be recruited from a stratum of intelligent men; the
lack of money may be a spur to ambition in many instances, but it
often leads to devious practices, and--" he saw that he had three
interested listeners--"the whole system is contrary to your
countrymen's idea that all men are created free and equal. While I
cannot accept that doctrine _in toto_, I do believe that the bestowal
of titles and fortune upon the eldest son is attended with grave
evils, not only among our nobility, but in our royal successions. The
Almighty does not follow such a law in endowing his children, and it
is contrary to Nature's _dictum_ 'the survival of the fittest.'"

Sir Stuart had expressed such opinions during his term in Parliament.
The path of the political pioneer is strewn with temporary defeats,
but all reforms, based upon truth, are ultimately successful, or life
would be a stagnant pool instead of a river of progress.

A letter from Maude contained a solution of the mystery.

"DEAR AUNT ELLA AND SISTER FLO:--What a rumpus there has been about
that raised check. Father was as dumb as an oyster about the affair
until he had it all settled, then he told ma and me.

"How you two feminines must have suffered--one from hopeless love--
and the other from helpless sympathy. But it is all over now, and the
probity of two, presumably, gallant officers is vindicated, while the
paying teller of father's bank is behind the bars with a certain
prospect of years of manual labour for bed and board. Why will men be
so foolish? Easily answered. The love of gold, not made in an honest
way, but by speculating with other folks' money. Mr. Barr, the
aforesaid teller, is a nice young fellow with a wife and two
children, but his life is wrecked. Of course she will get a divorce
and try to find a better man. We are all well, including Mr. Merry.
He intended to take the place in father's office that Quincy spoke
about, but Harry--there, I've written it, so will let it go--had a
better position offered him by Mr. Curtis Carter, one of Quincy's old
friends, and he's doing splendidly Mr. Carter told me.

"I am heartbroken about Quincy. I trust Alice's hopes may be realized
and most of the time I share them.

"How's that nephew of mine? Send him over and we'll bring him up a
Yankee boy. He's no Englishman.

"We are all well, and everybody sends love to everybody. MAUDE.

"P. S. Father didn't lose anything on the check. The bank paid the
money back to him."

* * * * * * *

Aunt Ella kept her promise to the Captain and the part of Maude's
letter which concerned the check was read to him. He improved his
opportunity by asking Florence to be his wife.

"My father was greatly pleased with you and will welcome you as a
daughter."

"Whether my father will welcome you as a son is the question,"
said Florence. "My father is a very wealthy man. I know the
conventionalities and requirements of English life, and although my
love for you is not dependent upon your having or not having a
fortune, I cannot become a burden to you, or dependent upon your
family, as I might become if my father refused his consent."

"You American girls are intensely practical."

"Are not Englishmen equally so when they pay court to American
heiresses? I don't mean you, of course."

"My father and brothers will allow me twenty-five hundred pounds a
year, about twelve thousand dollars of your money."

"Could we live, as we have both lived, on that income, Reginald?"

"To be honest, Florence, I don't think we could have a town house, a
place in the country, and entertain much."

"Certainly not, Reginald. If my father gives his consent, I will be
your wife whenever you say. If he refuses, we must wait."

The next mail brought a short letter for Florence from her sister.

"DEAR FLO:--I didn't want to put what I'm going to write now in my
other letter. I suppose Reggie will propose now. Don't you accept him
until Father is told. You love money and style, and the first enables
you to indulge in the second.

"I don't blame Reggie for borrowing if he was hard up, but knew he
could pay. But most men are deceitful creatures, anyway. Don't let
Aunt Ella write to father. He was always sore about her influence
over Quincy, and he mustn't think Aunt Ella made this match. If the
Countess would write him, puffing up Reggie's ancestors, and his blue
blood and ancestral home, and a hint (I hope it is so) that the
Hornaby's are a very wealthy family and related (distantly of course)
to royalty, Pater may say 'yes,' and give you his blessing. I do, if
that will help any. Your loving sister,

"MAUDE."

* * * * * * *

Florence had to make confidantes of Aunt Ella and Alice. She repeated
her conversation with Reginald and allowed them to read Maude's
letter.

"Maude has a level head," was Aunt Ella's comment. "I'll go and have
a talk with Linda. If she will write your father in the Captain's
behalf, I think things will come out all right."

Linda was not only willing to assure the Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer
that Capt. Hornaby belonged to an old and honourable family, but also
that he did not seek his daughter's hand because her father was a
wealthy man, for the Hornaby estate was a large one, and the rentals
sufficient to allow the Captain an adequate income, although there
were other brothers to share the patrimony.

The Hon. Nathaniel deliberated before answering. Florence had always
been a dutiful daughter and the fact that she would not become
engaged without his consent was an acknowledgment of his parental
influence which was vastly pleasing to his vanity. He had been
tricked into accepting Alice as his son's wife, and he knew that
Maude, when she made up her mind to marry would be guided little, if
any, by his advice. Filial love and respect deserved their reward.

He wrote the Countess giving his consent to the marriage, and, what
was most important, declared his intention of allowing Mrs. Captain
Hornaby an income of fifteen thousand dollars annually, and a liberal
provision at his death. He was very sorry, but pressing legal duties
would prevent his attendance at the wedding if it took place in
England.

The Countess insisted upon the wedding taking place at Ellersleigh.
She had obtained the, otherwise, obdurate father's consent, and
demanded compensation for her services.

So many weddings have been described that novelty in that line is
impossible. Sufficient to say that the Countess fulfilled
expectations and more, and the event was the year's sensation in
Sussex, the echoes of which reached imperial London, and far off
democratic America.

The Lady Elfrida Hastings was present at the wedding. She
congratulated the Captain and his bride, but took occasion to say to
the latter,--

"My dear, don't sing those sentimental American songs any more. That
night you looked so _triste_ I was afraid the present delightful
affair would never become a reality."

Florence did not confess that, on the evening in question, she had
misgivings herself.

CHAPTER XV

AN ELOPEMENT

The Hon. Nathaniel Adams Sawyer sat in his library reading a
ponderous legal document. It was full of knotty points requiring deep
thinking, and the Hon. Nathaniel was breathing deeply and thinking
deeply when the door was opened quietly and a young girl looked in.
She stood for a moment regarding the reader.

"Father, are you very busy?"

The man finished reading the page before noticing the speaker.

"I am always busy, Maude, except when asleep, and I sometimes think
my subliminal consciousness is active then."

Maude's inclination was to say "Oh, my!" but she repressed the
ejaculation.

"I can give you a few minutes, Maude, if the subject is an important
one. Come in."

Maude entered, seated herself, folded her hands in her lap and
regarded her father as a disobedient pupil would a teacher.

"Father--"

The Hon. Nathaniel was listening attentively.

"Father--"

"Repetition is effective if not indulged in to excess. I often use it
in my arguments before juries."

Maude flushed. She was particularly sensitive to sarcasm, but could
stand any amount of good-natured raillery.

"Father, I'm going to be married."

The Hon. Nathaniel readjusted his glasses and regarded the speaker.

"It must be a clandestine attachment. I am not aware of meeting any
gentleman who declared any desire to make you his wife. At whose
house have you met your intended? I have no reason to suspect your
Aunt Ella owing to her absence in Europe."

"I've never been to anybody's house. I've walked with him on the
Common and in the Public Garden."

"Ah, two parks frequented by the elite of the city."

Maude resented his last remark. "Just as good people as I am go
there."

"Do you mean that you are no better than those who go there?"

His voice was stern. Maude saw that she had made a mistake. "Some of
them," she said in a low voice.

"Who is the favoured gentleman? Have I the honour of his
acquaintance?"

"Why, yes, you've met him. It's Harry, I mean Mr. Merry."

"The young man who was Quincy's private secretary. Quincy wished me
to take him into my office, but he never appeared in person."

"He's with Mr. Curtis Carter on Tremont Street. Mr. Carter was one of
Quincy's most intimate friends."

"And Mr. Merry preferred going to one of Quincy's friends, than to
me, and criminal cases rather than civil procedure. Mr. Carter revels
in murder trials. But why has this young man failed to consult me on
a matter so greatly affecting your future? Why have you assumed the
initiative? This is not leap year."

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