CHAPTER XXI
A TALE OF WOE
That evening after dinner, as Mr. Merrick sat alone in the hotellobby, the girls having gone to watch the Major bowl tenpins, Mr.Jones approached and sat down in the chair beside him.
Uncle John greeted the man with an attempt at cordiality. He could notyet bring himself to like his personality, but on Myrtle's account andbecause he was himself generous enough to wish to be of service toanyone so forlorn and unhappy, he treated Mr. Jones with more respectthan he really thought he deserved.
"Tell me, Mr. Merrick," was the abrupt request, "where you foundMyrtle Dean."
Uncle John told him willingly. There was no doubt but Myrtle hadinterested the man.
"My girls found her on the train between Chicago and Denver," hebegan. "She was on her way to join her uncle in Leadville."
"What is her uncle's name?"
"Anson Jones. But the child was almost helpless, ill and withoutfriends or money. She was not at all sure her uncle was still inLeadville, in which case she would be at the mercy of a cold world. SoI telegraphed and found that Anson Jones had been gone from the miningcamp for several months. Do you know, sir, I at first suspected youmight be the missing uncle? For I heard you were a miner and foundthat your name is Jones. But I soon discovered you are not AnsonJones, but C.B. Jones--which alters the case considerably."
Mr. Jones nodded absently.
"Tell me the rest," he said.
Uncle John complied. He related the manner in which Beth and Patsyhad adopted Myrtle, the physician's examination and report upon hercondition, and then told the main points of their long but delightfuljourney from Albuquerque to San Diego in the limousine.
"It was one of the most fortunate experiments we have ever tried," heconcluded; "for the child has been the sweetest and most agreeablecompanion imaginable, and her affection and gratitude have amplyrepaid us for anything we have done for her. I am determined she shallnot leave us, sir. When we return to New York I shall consult the bestspecialist to be had, and I am confident she can be fully cured andmade as good as new."
The other man had listened intently, and when the story was finishedhe sat silent for a time, as if considering and pondering over what hehad heard. Then, without warning, he announced quietly:
"I am Anson Jones."
Uncle John fairly gasped for breath.
"_You_ Anson Jones!" he exclaimed. Then, with plausible suspicion headded: "I myself saw that you are registered as C.B. Jones."
"It is the same thing," was the reply. "My name is Collanson--but myfamily always called me 'Anson', when I had a family--and by that nameI was best known in the mining camps. That is what deceived you."
"But--dear me!--I don't believe Myrtle knows her uncle's name isCollanson."
"Probably not. Her mother, sir, my sister, was my only remainingrelative, the only person on earth who cared for me--although Ifoolishly believed another did. I worked for success as much onKitty's account--Kitty was Myrtle's mother--as for my own sake. Iintended some day to make her comfortable and happy, for I knew herhusband's death had left her poor and friendless. I did not see herfor years, nor write to her often; it was not my way. But Kitty alwaysknew I loved her."
He paused and sat silent a moment. Then he resumed, in his quiet, eventones:
"There is another part of my story that you must know to understandme fully; to know why I am now a hopeless, desperate man; or wasuntil--until last night, perhaps. Some years ago, when in Boston, Ifell in love with a beautiful girl. I am nearly fifty, and she was notquite thirty, but it never occurred to me that I was too old to winher love, and she frankly confessed she cared for me. But she said shecould not marry a poor man and would therefore wait for me to make afortune. Then I might be sure she would marry me. I believed her. I donot know why men believe women. It is an absurd thing to do. I did it;but other men have been guilty of a like folly. Ah, how I worked andplanned! One cannot always make a fortune in a short time. It took meyears, and all the time she renewed her promises and kept my hopes andmy ambitions alive.
"At last I won the game, as I knew I should do in time. It was a bigstrike. I discovered the 'Blue Bonnet' mine, and sold a half interestin it for a million. Then I hurried to Boston to claim my bride....She had been married just three months, after waiting, or pretendingto wait, for me for nearly ten years! She married a poor lawyer, too,after persistently refusing me because _I_ was poor. She laughed atmy despair and coldly advised me to find some one else to share myfortune."
He paused again and wearily passed his hand over his eyes--a familiargesture, as Myrtle knew. His voice had grown more and more dismal ashe proceeded, and just now he seemed as desolate and unhappy as whenfirst they saw him at the Grand Canyon.
"I lived through it somehow," he continued; "but the blow stunned me.It stuns me yet. Like a wounded beast I slunk away to find my sister,knowing she would try to comfort me. She was dead. Her daughterMyrtle, whom I had never seen, had been killed in an automobileaccident. That is what her aunt, a terrible woman named Martha Dean,told me, although now I know it was a lie, told to cover her ownbaseness in sending an unprotected child to the far West to seek anunknown uncle. I paid Martha Dean back the money she claimed she hadspent for Myrtle's funeral; that was mere robbery, I suppose, but notto be compared with the crime of her false report. I found myselfbereft of sweetheart, sister--even an unknown niece. Despair claimedme. I took the first train for the West, dazed and utterly despondent.Some impulse led me to stop off at the Grand Canyon, and there I sawthe means of ending all my misery. But Myrtle interfered."
Uncle John, now thoroughly interested and sympathetic, leaned over andsaid solemnly:
"The hand of God was in that!"
Mr. Jones nodded.
"I am beginning to believe it," he replied. "The girl's face won meeven in that despairing mood. She has Kitty's eyes."
"They are beautiful eyes," said Uncle John, earnestly. "Sir, you havefound in your niece one of the sweetest and most lovely girls thatever lived. I congratulate you!"
Mr. Jones nodded again. His mood had changed again since they beganto speak of Myrtle. His eyes now glowed with pleasure and pride. Heclasped Mr. Merrick's hand in his own as he said with feeling:
"She has saved me, sir. Even before I knew she was my niece I began towonder if it would not pay me to live for her sake. And now--"
"And now you are sure of it," cried Uncle John, emphatically. "But whois to break the news to Myrtle?"
"No one, just yet," was the reply. "Allow me, sir, if you please, tokeep her in ignorance of the truth a little longer. I only made thediscovery myself today, you see, and I need time to think it all outand determine how best to take advantage of my good fortune."
"I shall respect your wish, sir," said Mr. Merrick.
The girls came trooping back then, and instead of running away AnsonJones remained to talk with them.
Beth and Patsy were really surprised to find the "Sad One" chattingpleasantly with Uncle John. The Major looked at the man curiously, notunderstanding the change in him. But Myrtle was quite proud of theprogress he was making and his improved spirits rendered the girl veryhappy indeed. Why she should take such an interest in this man shecould not have explained, except that he had been discouraged andhopeless and she had succeeded in preventing him from destroying hislife and given him courage to face the world anew. But surely that wasenough, quite sufficient to give her a feeling of "proprietorship," asPatsy had expressed it, in this queer personage. Aside from all this,she was growing to like the man who owed so much to her. Neither Patsynor Beth could yet see much to interest them or to admire in hisgloomy character; but Myrtle's intuition led her to see beneath thesurface, and she knew there were lovable traits in Mr. Jones' natureif he could only be induced to display them.
CHAPTER XXII
THE CONFESSION
After that evening the man attached himself to the party on everypossible occasion. Sometimes in their trips around Coronado h
e rodein their automobile, at other times he took Myrtle, and perhaps oneother, in his own car. Every day he seemed brighter and more cheerful,until even Major Doyle admitted he was not a bad companion.
Three weeks later they moved up to Los Angeles, taking two days forthe trip and stopping at Riverside and Redlands on the way. Theyestablished their headquarters at one of the handsome Los Angeleshotels and from there made little journeys through the surroundingcountry, the garden spot of Southern California. One day they went toPasadena, which boasts more splendid residences than any city of itssize in the world; at another time they visited Hollywood, famed as"the Paradise of Flowers." Both mountains and sea were within easyreach, and there was so much to do that the time passed all tooswiftly.
It was on their return from such a day's outing that Myrtle met withher life's greatest surprise. Indeed, the surprise was shared by allbut Uncle John, who had religiously kept the secret of Mr. Jones'identity.
As they reached the hotel this eventful evening Mr. Merrick said tothe girls:
"After you have dressed for dinner meet us on the parlor floor. Wedine privately to-night."
They were mildly astonished at the request, but as Uncle John wasalways doing some unusual thing they gave the matter little thought.However, on reaching the parlor floor an hour later they found Mr.Merrick, the Major and Mr. Jones in a group awaiting them, andall were garbed in their dress suits, with rare flowers in theirbuttonholes.
"What is it, then?" asked Patsy. "A treat?"
"I think so," said Uncle John, smiling. "Your arm, please, MissDoyle."
The Major escorted Beth and Mr. Jones walked solemnly beside Myrtle,who still used crutches, but more as a matter of convenience thanbecause they were necessary. At the end of a corridor a waiter threwopen the door of a small but beautiful banquet room, where a roundtable, glistening with cut glass and silver, was set for six. In thecenter of the table was a handsome centerpiece decorated with vinesof myrtle, while the entire room was filled with sprays of the daintyvines, alive with their pretty blue flowers.
"Goodness me!" exclaimed Patsy, laughing gleefully. "This seems to beour little Myrtle's especial spread. Who is the host, Uncle John?"
"Mr. Jones, of course," announced Beth, promptly.
Myrtle blushed and glanced shyly at Mr. Jones. His face was fairlyillumined with pleasure. He placed her in the seat of honor and saidgravely:
"This is indeed Myrtle's entertainment, for she has found something.It is also partly my own thanksgiving banquet, my friends; for I, too,have found something."
His tone was so serious that all remained silent as they took theirseats, and during the many courses served the conversation was lesslively than on former occasions when there had been no ceremony.Myrtle tried hard to eat, but there was a question in her eyes--aquestion that occupied her all through the meal. When, finally, thedessert was served and the servants had withdrawn and left them tothemselves, the girl could restrain her curiosity no longer.
"Tell me, Mr. Jones," she said, turning to him as he sat beside her;"what have you found?"
He was deliberate as ever in answering.
"You must not call me 'Mr. Jones,' hereafter," said he.
"Why not? Then, what _shall_ I call you?" she returned, greatlyperplexed.
"I think it would be more appropriate for you to call me 'UncleAnson.'"
"Uncle Anson! Why, Uncle Anson is--is--"
She paused, utterly bewildered, but with a sudden suspicion that madeher head whirl.
"It strikes me, Myrtle," said Uncle John, cheerfully, "that you havenever been properly introduced to Mr. Jones. If I remember aright youscraped acquaintance with him and had no regular introduction. So Iwill now perform that agreeable office. Miss Myrtle Dean, allow me topresent your uncle, Mr. Collanson B. Jones."
"Collanson!" repeated all the girls, in an astonished chorus.
"That is my name," said Mr. Jones, the first smile they had seenradiating his grim countenance. "All the folks at home, among them mysister Kitty--your mother, my dear--called me 'Anson'; and that iswhy, I suppose, old Martha Dean knew me only as your 'Uncle Anson.'Had she told you my name was Collanson you might have suspectedearlier that 'C.B. Jones' was your lost uncle. Lost only because hewas unable to find you, Myrtle. While you were journeying West insearch of him he was journeying East. But I'm glad, for many reasons,that you did not know me. It gave me an opportunity to learn thesweetness of your character. Now I sincerely thank God that He led youto me, to reclaim me and give me something to live for. If you willpermit me, my dear niece, I will hereafter devote my whole life toyou, and earnestly try to promote your happiness."
During this long speech Myrtle had sat wide eyed and white, watchinghis face and marveling at the strangeness of her fate. But she wasvery, very glad, and young enough to quickly recover from the shock.
There was a round of applause from Patsy, Beth, the Major andUncle John, which served admirably to cover their little friend'sembarrassment and give her time to partially collect herself. Then sheturned to Mr. Jones and with eyes swimming with tears tenderly kissedhis furrowed cheek.
"Oh, Uncle Anson; I'm _so_ happy!" she said.
Of course Myrtle's story is told, now. But it may be well to add thatUncle Anson did for her all that Uncle John had intended doing, andeven more. The consultation with a famous New York specialist, ontheir return a month later, assured the girl that no painful operationwas necessary. The splendid outing she had enjoyed, with the fine airof the far West, had built up her health to such an extent that natureremedied the ill she had suffered. Myrtle took no crutches back to NewYork--a city now visited for the first time in her life--nor did sheever need them again. The slight limp she now has will disappearin time, the doctors say, and the child is so radiantly happy thatneither she nor her friends notice the limp at all.
Patsy Doyle, as owner of the pretty flat building on Willing Square,has rented to Uncle Anson the apartment just opposite that of theDoyles, and Mr. Jones has furnished it cosily to make a home for hisniece, to whom he is so devoted that Patsy declares her own doting andadoring father is fairly outclassed.
The Major asserts this is absurd; but he has acquired a genuinefriendship for Anson Jones, who is no longer sad but has grown lovableunder Myrtle's beneficent influence.
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