CHAPTER XXIII--AN OLD ROMANCE
Bab had hardly reached her room before she was summoned to the door byStephen, looking so serious and unhappy that she felt at once somethinghad happened.
"Bab," he said, "I am afraid you are not done with your day's work yetfor the Ten Eyck family. I am about to ask you a favor, and I mustconfide something to you that has been a secret with us now for threegenerations. First, are you afraid to go with me over to the right wing?John and Mary will go, too, and you need really have nothing to fear,but the dread----" he paused and bit his lip.
"Why, no, Stephen, I am not afraid," replied Bab, "and I promise toguard faithfully any secret you want to tell me," she added, giving himher hand in token of her pledge. She suspected they were going to visitthe old man she had seen wandering about the house and forest.
"I will tell you the secret as we go along," Stephen said, leading theway to the end of the hall, where they found Mary and John waiting. Thefour started down a long passage opening into the right wing of thebuilding. "We are going, now," continued Stephen, "to visit a very oldman who lives in the right wing. He is my great-uncle, Stephen Ten Eyck.When he was quite a young man he met with a sorrow that unhinged hismind and he--well, he committed a crime. It was never proved that he haddone it, but the Ten Eyck family knew he had. However, his most intimatefriend took the blame upon his shoulders."
"Why did he do that?" asked Bab.
"Because, Bab," replied Stephen, "they both loved a girl, and the girl'sname was Barbara Thurston. She must have been your great-great-aunt. Didyou ever hear of her?"
"If I ever did, I have forgotten," answered Bab. "You see, afterfather's death, we had no way to learn much about his family and motherknew very little, I suppose."
"Well, Barbara Thurston was engaged to marry my great-uncle. They wereall staying at the same hotel, somewhere in the Italian lakecountry--Barbara and her mother and my great-uncle Stephen and hisfriend. One day the friend persuaded Barbara to go out rowing with him.There was a storm and the boat upset, and Barbara was drowned. It wassaid that the friend and the boatman swam ashore and left her, but thatis hard to believe. Anyway, when my uncle got the news, somethingsnapped in his brain and he killed the boatman with an oar. The friendmade his escape and the flight proved to the authorities that he hadcommitted the crime. The Ten Eycks all knew that Uncle Stephen had doneit, but it seemed of little use, I suppose, to tell the truth, becausethe slayer, Uncle Stephen, had gone clean crazy, and his friend couldnot be found. They have never seen each other since, until----"
Stephen paused.
"Until when, Stephen?"
"Until to-night, Barbara. Can you guess who the friend is?"
"The hermit?" asked Barbara, with growing excitement.
"Yes," replied Stephen; "the poor old hermit who has lived near hisfriend all these years without ever letting anybody know."
"And your uncle has been living in the right wing ever since?" askedBab.
"Yes. It was his father's wish that the right wing be absolutely his forlife and that the secret be kept in the family. The old fellow has neverhurt a fly since the night he killed the Italian boatman. His attendantis as old as he, almost, and sometimes Uncle Stephen gets away from him.Have you ever seen him?" Stephen looked at her curiously.
"Yes," replied Bab, "several times."
"And never mentioned it? Really Bab, you are great."
"Oh, I finally did tell the girls, only last night. I was just a littlefrightened. Your Uncle Stephen called me by name. But, by the way, noneof you knew about the name before. How was that?"
"To tell the truth, I had never heard the girl's name in my life, and itwas so long ago that Uncle Stephen had forgotten it. It was the hermitwho revealed the whole thing. He took refuge here from the fire, andafter you girls had gone upstairs he sent for Uncle John. It seems thehermit has been with Uncle Stephen most of the afternoon, keeping himquiet and away from the fire. The poor old fellow was scared, he said,but he is himself again and they both want to see you. But that is notthe chief reason you are sent for. Uncle Stephen insists that he hassomething he will tell only to you. All day long he has been calling foryou, and Uncle John Ten Eyck thinks it may quiet him if you will consentto see him for a few minutes."
The two had paused outside of a door at the end of the passage, tofinish the conversation, while Mary and John had gone quietly inside.Presently John opened the door.
"It's all right, sir," he whispered. "You and the young lady may comein."
They entered a large room, furnished with heavy old-fashioned chairs andtables. There were bowls of flowers about and Bab heard afterwards thatthe poor, crazed old man loved flowers and arranged them himself.Standing near the window was the hermit. When he saw Bab his face wasradiated by such a beautiful smile that tears sprang to the girl's eyes.Lying on a couch, somewhat back in the shadow, was Stephen's uncle ofthe same name. His attendant, also an old man, who had been with himfrom the beginning, was sitting beside him.
Stephen Ten Eyck the elder opened his eyes when the door closed. He alsosmiled, as the hermit had done, and Bab felt that she could have weptaloud for the two pathetic old men.
"My little Barbara has come back at last," Uncle Stephen said, takingher hand. "I am very happy. And my old friend Richard, too," he went on,stretching the other hand toward the hermit. "Dick," he went on, "Ialways loved you so. I don't know which I loved the most, you or sweetBarbara here. Heaven is good to bring me all these blessings at once.Don't cry, little girl," he added, tenderly, for the tears were rollingdown Barbara's cheeks and dropping on his hand. "But I must not forget,"he exclaimed suddenly. "I have something to tell you, Barbara, before itclouds over here," he tapped his brow. "Go away all of you. This is forher ears alone. It is a secret."
The others moved off to a corner of the room and the old man went onwhispering mysteriously. "We were the last who saw him, you and I. Hefollowed me that night. Do you remember? He fell. He is lying at thefoot of the stairs now. There is a gash in his head and--blood!" "Pressthe panel in the attic----" The old man's voice died away in a gasp.
"Which panel?" asked Bab, in an agony for fear he would not finish.
"The one with the knot hole in the right hand corner," he added and fellback on the couch.
Bab tried to make him tell more, but his mind was clouded over and hehad already forgotten she was there.
"Has he finished?" asked Stephen.
"Yes," replied Bab, "but come quickly. We have no time to lose. Jose islying somewhere, dead or half dead, in the secret passage."
Too much excited and amazed to say good-night to the hermit, the callersrushed down the passage, followed by the two servants. At the foot ofthe attic stairs they waited while John brought lights, and for thesecond time that day Bab climbed into the vast old attic.
"Thank fortune the partition is down," exclaimed Stephen. "I supposeUncle Stephen forgot to slide it back, he was in such a hurry to getaway from Jose." Bab had explained the situation, to Stephen while theywaited for the candles. "Which panel did he say, Bab?"
"This must be it," she answered; "the panel in the right-hand cornerthat has a knot hole in it. Here is the knot hole all right. We are topress it, he said."
They pressed, but nothing happened.
"Press the knot hole, why don't you?" suggested Bab.
One touch was enough. The panel opened and disclosed a long passage cutapparently through the wall. There were several branch passages leadingoff from the main one, marked with faded handwriting on slips of paper,one "To the Cellar," another "To the Library" and finally the last one"To the Right Wing."
"This must be the one," said Stephen, as they groped their way alongsingle file. "Be careful," he called; "there should be a flight of stepsalong here somewhere."
Presently they came to the steps. Up through the dense blackness theycould faintly hear a sound of moaning.
"All right, Jose, old fellow, we are coming to you," cried Stephen,while Bab's heart b
eat so loud she could not trust herself to speak.
Groping their way down the narrow stairway, they came to a landingalmost on a level with the ceilings of the first floor rooms. At the farend of the passage they could hear a voice calling faintly.
"He probably fell the length of the steps, and dragged himself across,"exclaimed Stephen, holding his lantern high above his head.
They found Jose stretched out by a narrow door opening directly into theright wing. There was a gash just above his temple which he himself hadbound with his handkerchief and his leg appeared to be broken at theankle.
"Jose, my poor boy," cried Stephen, "we have found you at last!"
Jose smiled weakly and fainted dead away.
The two men carried him back up the flight of steps, not daring to trythe experiment of the passage leading to the library.
"I suppose Uncle Stephen has known these passages since he was a child,"said Stephen in a low voice to Bab as they passed through the attic,"and when his attendant is asleep, no doubt he steals off and wandersabout the house. I believe he has always had a mania that he was beingpursued by the Italian boatman; and when Jose followed him, right on topof his meeting with you, it was too much for the old fellow."
"He's a dear old man," returned Bab, "and how he must have suffered allthese years; that is, whenever his memory returned."
"And think of the hermit, too, who sacrificed his entire career for you,Miss, just because you never learned to swim."
Bab smiled. "If my Aunt Barbara had lived by the sea as I have, shewould never have had to wait for boatmen and lovers to pull her out ofthe deep water. Swimming is as easy as walking to me."
"I am glad you've learned wisdom in your old age," replied Stephen asthey paused at the door of the bedroom given to Jose.
"There is one thing I cannot believe," declared Bab, "and that is thatthe hermit swam off and left Aunt Barbara to drown."
"Who knows?" answered Stephen. "People lose their heads strangelysometimes."
It was Alfred, destined to be a great doctor, who set Jose's leg thatnight.