and the open space overlooking thewater-lily pond he paused and grew visibly paler.
"I must remember that it cannot be much to him; if he has answered myappeal it cannot be _much_ to him--it cannot be agreeable. I wish I'dasked a little more about him. However, now for it." He turned roundthe dump of trees by which he stood, and stopped with a start.
"What! someone else! Oh, of all the ill luck," he thought, as he sawunder the tree a grey pony and a wheeled chair, in which was a young mansketching the pond and the trees beyond it.
Edgar was half sitting up against his cushions, and had pushed the softcap which he wore back from his brows, so that his face was clearlyvisible; but he himself was looking the other way, and, intent on hissketch, did not observe that anyone was approaching.
The new-comer looked at him at first without any recognition. Who couldthe invalid be who had permission to sketch in the Ashcroft wood andseemed so much at home there? He had better walk quietly on, and passby as if by accident. But, as he came nearer, Edgar threw back his headto look at his drawing, and something in the gesture struck on thestranger with a sudden thrill. He saw the dark hair, the long, delicatefeatures. Could it be--was it possible? Was _this_ the one he came tomeet--evidently unwarned and unexpectant--and--like _this_?
As he paused, bewildered, doubtful how to proceed, Edgar turned his headand saw him. He saw the dark man with a pointed beard, whom Wyn haddescribed on the authority of Florence as having been in the wood theday before, and, laying down his pencil, said, courteously, but withsome decision, and in a voice at once recognisable:
"Excuse me, but perhaps you are not aware that this wood is private?"
The stranger made three or four steps forward, till he stood closebeside the pony chair.
"Oh yes," he said, "of course I know that. You--you did not receive myletter?"
"You are--you are _Alwyn_!" gasped Edgar, breathless and dizzy with theshock that came without a moment's doubt or a moment's warning.
"Edgar! Yes, yes, I wrote. I did not mean to take you by surprise.But it is I--prepared for what welcome you will give me."
Edgar was so near fainting that welcome of any sort was beyond hispower; but, as his senses came back, he saw Alwyn leaning over him,looking at him with frightened eyes, not daring to lift, hardly to touchhim, and almost as much taken aback as himself by the unexpected statein which he found him.
Edgar lay looking at him for a moment or two.
"Then--you are alive?" he said slowly.
"Yes," said Alwyn, "I wrote to you to ask you if you would see me. Igave the letter to a boy, here in the wood--"
"He lost it," said Edgar, still as if half awake.
"What can I do for you?" said Alwyn anxiously. "Are you better? butno--rest a little don't mind about it yet."
Edgar still looked at him. Yes, it was Alwyn--perfectly unmistakable--only as much altered as the eight years made inevitable--with the facehe remembered so clearly; yes, and with the softened look he had seen inhis dream.
He put out his hand, and Alwyn took it timidly, and still with the sameshocked, startled look.
"Of course," he said gently, "I did not know you had been ill, or Iwould not have written to you, nor risked startling you."
"I'm not ill," said Edgar, still rather confusedly. "It's only my back,you know--quite an old thing."
"But when--how?"
"I fell downstairs," said Edgar; "never mind, tell me--"
"Not _then_? Not _that flight_? You did fall, I remember. What? thenI was the cause."
Alwyn started up and turned his back on his brother, evidently shockedand overpowered almost beyond control. The meeting was utterly unlikewhat either of them had fancied to himself as probable.
"Alwyn," said Edgar, "there's nothing to mind--I'm quite used to it. Itwas a mere chance, and it's not so very bad. I _can_ walk--a little,and I can get out here and have very jolly times, you see."
But the boyish language, and the still boyish voice, so well remembered,completely overcame Alwyn, who had not expected to be agitated, onlyperhaps embarrassed, at seeing his brother. He struggled hard withhimself before he could turn round, and, coming back and leaning againstthe tree beside Edgar, said:
"What would you like me best to do?"
"Why!" said Edgar, with recovered energy, "tell me something. I amdazed with surprise. Tell me everything."
"I went to New York, as I suppose you know," said Alwyn; "Whittaker withme. I wasn't altogether a fool, and I accepted the introductions theNew York bankers gave me, and with the money my father had lodged therefor me I bought some land in Massachusetts. Well, after a good deal ofuncertainty it not only proved a success in the farming way, but wefound coal on it, which proved well worth working, and, in short, wehave done well. Whittaker is what I suppose you would call my agent andmanager, and a good friend into the bargain. Well, two years ago hemarried--well. He had quite made up his mind to give up the oldcountry. And I--I only wished to be independent. We made no effort,you understand, at concealment--used our own names always. Anyone couldhave found us out. Well, I must tell you very briefly.
"I made an acquaintance in Boston--an Episcopal clergyman. We took awalking tour together--had sundry adventures. I went home with him. Hehas a sister. After a little while I felt what it was to have such apast behind me. And a Boston gentleman such as Mr Dallas was notlikely to accept a wandering Englishman for a son-in-law withoutinquiry, nor to think it natural that my father's eldest son should beliving over there. I knew what sort of thing a few inquiries would tellhim, and I knew what I had flung away." Alwyn paused for a moment andthen went on hurriedly--"All my views changed--changed utterly."
"You decided to come home," said Edgar.
"Yes," said Alwyn, "but then something else happened."
He took a pocket-book out of his pocket, opened it, and, unrolling alittle packet of tissue paper, laid something bright and glittering onEdgar's hand.
"Did you ever see that before?" he said. "Yes," as Edgar looked at himwith startled eyes, "I see you remember it. But say what it is."
"It is one of Mrs Fletcher's lost jewels," said Edgar, as if under aspell.
It was a curious enamelled bird with a great ruby in its breast, and setin a sort of frame of emeralds, a curiosity as well as an object ofintrinsic value.
"Yes. I didn't steal it, though," said Alwyn; "nor did HarryWhittaker."
The cool dry tone in which this was said was exactly that of the oldAlwyn.
"I know who did, though," he said, "and I have come back to try to proveit. Curious proof, don't you think, of innocence, to produce the stolenobject?"
"What proof can be needed?" said Edgar, warmly.
Alwyn smiled.
"I never thought there would be--for you," he said. "But it's a verylong story. I think I must write it for you. There are some things Imust ask. Shall we be interrupted? How can I see you again alone? Myfather--is he well--is he altered?"
"He is pretty well," said Edgar, "and--not altered. Wyn Warren will beback directly, I think I must tell him. You see I can't get anywherealone. I couldn't even post a letter for myself. And my father, youknow, unlocks the post-bag. I hardly ever get letters."
Edgar spoke merely as if considering the difficulties of the case--quitecheerfully; but to Alwyn the words sounded most pitiful.
"Then try not to trouble about me," he said; "you have given me awelcome. I must manage for myself. Of course I am only keeping quiettill I can get one or two things in train. I am staying in London. Youmustn't have to bear the brunt of any discovery."
"I don't care a straw for that," said Edgar. "I'll answer for littleWyn. He shall bring me here again to-morrow, if possible; in any casehe shall come himself. When I understand dearly I can tell my fatherthat I've seen you, and everything else you think proper."
"No, no," said Alwyn, almost laughing at the coolness with which thisfragile, helpless brother proposed to face the difficulty
for him. "Youwere always a plucky fellow, but when the time comes I'll make my ownconfession. I'll go now."
But he still lingered.
"Ought you to be alone?" he said. "Do you want anything? You will notbe the worse for the fright I gave you?"
"No. I'm quite jolly. If you'll just put this cushion lower for me,that's all, so that I can lie down."
"I am too rough to touch you. There--is that right, dear boy?" saidAlwyn, anxiously.
"Oh yes, you are very clever!" said Edgar.
He spoke lightly; but