CHAPTER XVII
MOONLIGHT ON THE SECRET TRAIL
It was a seven passenger car, but eight could and did ride in it thatafternoon, on the trip to Las Olas beach. Maurice was gone and Eleanorhad promised to go back to Miami early in the afternoon. That left Dickand Lois Bell, Fred Hall, Louise Duncan, Ronald Bentley, Suzanne Tyson,Ann Sterling and Jack Hudson. They drove first to the Seminole camp,just west of town. Ronald had mentioned it and both Suzanne and Annfelt anxious to see it. They had noticed the gayly dressed Indians onthe streets and Ann was delighted to see one poling his way across theNew River in one of the cypress trunk canoes.
Fred, who drove his father’s car, had a great time finding the road,but finally got started in the right direction, a matter of a shorttime to reach the camp once the right road was found. They were nearlystuck in the sand once or twice, but they lightened the load by jumpingout and pulled out safely.
“What an Indian camp!” thought Ann. Here were no tepees, normoccasin-wearing Indians. Little that she had learned in the Westabout Indians would apply here, so far as what she had expected tosee was concerned, with the exception of bad housekeeping! The campsite was littered with a nondescript collection of tin cans, chickenfeathers, bones and old utensils.
As ever, Ann felt hesitant about disturbing the native dwellers; butRonald walked boldly up to several children who were standing about andasked to take their pictures, offering a silver piece at the same time.The children drew back, casting looks at their visitors, and behindthem at the queer thatched lodges which were their dwellings. On thefloor of one near by, a floor raised several feet from the ground sothat it looked more like a low shelf than a floor, there sat a stolidold woman, who glanced at visitors and children with keen black eyes.As Ann and Ronald came nearer, they saw that she was stringing beads ofbright colors.
By signs, pointing at the camera, they tried to indicate what theywanted. At last the old woman, whose neck was wound with countlessstrands of beads, descended to earth and spoke briefly to the children,who then posed for a picture. Several cameras clicked, as the sunshone more brightly for a time and the positions of the Indians werefavorable.
“They say,” said Dick, as the party went back to the car, leavingpleasant reminders, in the form of loose change, in the hand of theold woman, “that the more beads they wear, the higher their stationamong the Indians,--social position, you know.”
“This woman is the mother of a chief,” said Ronald. “How about it,folks? Is it ‘Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll’? Ready nowfor a swim?”
“It is,” declared Suzanne. “We are. Don’t you think, Ann, that thesebright costumes are prettier than those of the Western Indians?”
“They are more picturesque in some ways,” said Ann, “those full, longdresses of different colors, the stripes running around, are surelystartling; but it seems funny that the children wear them. They are allbarefooted, aren’t they? Don’t they need moccasins down here?”
“I should think that they would, with the snakes,” remarked Louise.
“Anyhow,” said Ann, “I think that our Indians wear more sensibleclothes.”
“You will be loyal at any cost, won’t you, Miss Ann?” queried JackHudson. “But remember that down here the climate makes light clothingnecessary.”
The sea was just rough enough to be exciting. The bathers did not goout far, but plunged and dived or floated to their hearts’ content.Through all the afternoon’s pleasure, and Ann was interested in all ofit, she was thinking of Maurice, wondering if he had yet learned thetruth and what that truth was. She could scarcely wait to see him, hergallant young cousin! What a way he had of carrying off a situationwith the best of humor, as in working with that engine!
Ronald paid Ann rather especial attention that afternoon. She was,to be sure, his guest and his mother’s; but he made one remark whichindicated that Ann was not without interest to him. “I’m almost gladthat old Maury was called away for a while,” said he. “Some of the restof us can get within three feet of you now, and have you alone for fiveminutes or so.”
Ann looked up laughing, somewhat surprised. “Maurice is not trying tokeep any one away from his cousin, I’m sure.”
“Oh, is that _so_?” queried Ronald in sarcasm.
* * * * *
It was nearly seven o’clock when Maurice returned, having come in onone of the ’buses, for his father had gone on back to Palm Beach fromDelray, where they were last. Maurice seemed to be in good spirits,joking with the rest as usual, but he gave no special sign to Ann, andseemed rather to avoid any betrayal of what had passed between hisfather and himself. “Perhaps he could not come to the point, afterall,” thought Ann.
Maurice had had his dinner before he came to the yacht. The yacht partywas just finishing that meal, when Mr. Bentley suggested that theytake a moonlight ride out to the sound and beyond. “It was a littlerough early this afternoon,” said he, “but the wind has died down and Ithink that we shall find it calm and delightful riding. Have you everbeen out on the ocean, Ann?”
“Not yet, Mr. Bentley.”
The boys carried the instruments of the “orchestra” to the deck, andarranged enough seats for all the party; for they were taking Dick andLois Bell, as well as Louise Duncan, on this evening “cruise”.
What a full day it had been! Among the alligators in the morning, nowgoing out to the sharks tonight! It all depended on how you looked atit, however, whether you saw sharks and alligators, or beautiful watersand blue sky!
Music started early. Louise brought her guitar and Dick added hisukulele to the orchestral supply. Ann enjoyed the singing and joinedher voice to those of the rest; but she sat near the railing, not tomiss seeing the waters and sky, and to know when first they reached thereal sea. Stars were out, shining and clear. An occasional cloud thatdrifted across the moon only made its setting more beautiful.
“Come over here, Ann,” called Maurice after a little, when the singinghad stopped. They were a little tired, those active young people. Awhole day of going had made this soothing motion upon the waves themost restful entertainment that Mr. Bentley could have provided.Maurice stepped around one or two of his friends, to hold a hand to Annand lead her to the seat which, he said, he had “just reserved”. “Youhave seen alligators and Indians, Ann, you tell me,--now come and showme the constellations.”
“‘Constellations’,” repeated Jack to Suzanne. “Did it ever strike youthat Maurice is pretty well interested in his cousin?”
“Yes. He is crazy about her, and has been ever since she first came toour house.”
“What do you think of it?”
“Mother seems to think it all right. First cousins do marry, you know.Of course, Maury never said anything to me about it. But I can’t helpnoticing lately, and Mother made a little remark that surprised me theother day. One would have thought that she _hoped_ Maury would fall inlove with Ann.”
“Doesn’t she like Ann?”
Suzanne was not quite ready to tell Jack her mother’s attitude towardAnn, so she managed an evasive reply to this question.
* * * * *
Meanwhile Maurice and Ann occupied a wicker seat made for two. “I’m notsure that I remember much about the winter sky,” Ann began.
“And I could not think of constellations to save my neck,” repliedMaurice. “That was just an excuse to get you here, Ann. It deceived noone, either, if you are anxious to have me truthful. Jack gave me alook that I understood. I want to tell you about my talk with Father.It was certainly surprising.”
“Oh,” said Ann, “I have been so anxious all afternoon!”
“Have you, dear? Excuse me, Ann,--but whether you ever learn to carefor me or not, you are the dearest, sweetest, most wonderful girl thatever gave her sympathy to a good-for-nothing college boy, who haswasted half of his opportunities!”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Maury,” said Ann, as soon as she couldget
breath to speak, after hearing the first part of Maurice’s remark.“There is a good deal to that same college boy.”
“I’m glad to hear you say so, but I’m pretty well discouraged tonight.It was hard to keep going with the fun, but I don’t want to appeardifferent.”
“It was,--it was true, then?”
“It was,--and more. I am simply dazed, Ann. The only happy thing aboutit is that I am not your cousin at all. I am holding on to that. Ifeel like throwing up the whole thing, college and all. How can I everfinish the year?”
“O Maury, please! You will always regret it if you give up when you areso nearly through. _Please_,--for me, if you like me a little!”
“A little! Hard luck, isn’t it?--to fall desperately in love just whenthe very foundations slip from under your feet, like the sand on theshore!”
“But surely it isn’t so bad as all that, Maury. Uncle Tyson caresabout you and will help you start out just the same, won’t he? I don’tunderstand. You did not have any trouble, did you?”
“No, indeed. And I am asked not to talk about it openly in the familyyet. I can’t refuse, under the circumstances. But promise me, Ann, ifanything comes up, any reason why Grandmother ought to be told, youwill tell her from me. I don’t want her to go on thinking,--well, I’dbetter tell you the whole story first. But let me tell you one thing,Ann. There will never be any deceiving of any one to _my_ record, if Ikeep my mind!”
Maurice then began with the history of the drive and related how, afterthe business for Madam LeRoy had been explained, and they had drivenfor some little time, Maurice introduced the subject by saying thatthere was something which he wanted to talk over with his father. Hethen referred to the gossip that he had heard and asked if Mr. Tysonhad any explanation. Whatever was the truth, Maurice wanted to know itand felt that he had a right to ask, though he had no desire to troublehis father.
Mr. Tyson seemed surprised. They drove along in silence for a fewminutes, Mr. Tyson very sober, Maurice more and more certain that therewas some story back of it. Then Mr. Tyson acknowledged that there wastruth in the gossip, though he could not see how it was started.
“So it began, Ann,” said Maurice. “Then Father exploded the bomb-shell!You could never guess it. For a long time father thought that I washis son, but he discovered a few years ago that I am not even that!Curiously enough, my name is Huntington, like your grandmother’s, andmy parents were American, for which I am thankful!”
Ann drew a long breath. “_Your_ grandmother’s,” Maurice had said! PoorMaury! No real share in the family relationships! No wonder he wasupset!
Maurice proceeded with the story which Mr. Tyson had given him. Itseemed that Mr. Tyson, traveling around the world with plenty of money,had met two American girls, orphans, without any family connectionsso far as he ever knew. One was about to marry a man named MauriceHuntington, whom she had known in America, and with the other one, abeautiful girl, Mr. Tyson had fallen desperately in love. They had metin Japan, and from that time saw more or less of each other till theyarrived in Greece, where there was a double wedding. Both young menwere interested in archaeology and in art. Happy, and with plenty ofmeans, they decided to take a house in one of the Grecian cities, toremain there as long as it pleased them. There a boy was born to eachof the sisters, Mrs. Tyson’s about three months the elder, and theyhad the same English nurse to take care of both babies.
When the Tyson baby was about five months old, its mother diedsuddenly, and Mr. Tyson, leaving the boy in charge of the nurse and hissister-in-law, went to France to get away from his trouble. In Paris,attracted at first by a fancied resemblance to his wife, Mr. Tyson fellin love again and after a very short courtship married Ann’s aunt.
To Maurice, Mr. Tyson explained that he did not tell Mrs. Tyson of hisfirst marriage for two reasons: first, a remark that she made duringthe courtship about second marriages; second, the short time which hadelapsed between the death of his first wife and the second marriage.He thought that he could explain after their marriage, but found thatshe was very unhappy about it. (Ann thought that she could imagine thetime Uncle Tyson had had over the matter, no excuses of having been sodesperately in love with Aunt Sue serving to placate her.)
It was her proposition that they ignore the matter so far as theirfriends were concerned. Why explain? It would be several years verylikely, before they returned to America. They were going to exploreout-of-the-way places. They would be in Greece some time. Let the childbe considered hers. It was so young that it would be better for it toregard her as its mother.
Mr. Tyson was only too glad to have the matter amicably settled andleft it in his wife’s hands to manage. No harm could be done, hethought. It was no one’s affair, he reasoned.
When at last they returned to Greece, they found no one in the housewhich the Huntington’s and the Tysons had taken but the English womanand one of the babies. Several weeks before, she told them, theHuntingtons and their baby had been drowned while they were on a littleexcursion by themselves. She was thankful to see them, for funds werelacking. She had written and did not understand why she did not hear.Mr. Huntington had naturally handled the funds. She had only her ownsavings to use. Mrs. Tyson was upset and wanted to leave the next day.Accordingly she and the nurse, with the baby, packed and left at once,leaving him to settle matters and sell the house. He did not think ofmaking any special inquiries into the story of the nurse, though oneof the friends whom he consulted in regard to the sale of the househad remarked that he thought the baby had died before, and anotherexpressed himself as very sorry that he had lost the baby as well ashis wife. But Mr. Tyson was hurried and had made no intimate friendsthere. He and Mr. Huntington had been concerned with their explorationsand study. Only one thing he remembered as seeming strange to him. Thebaby had not been named when his wife died, and the nurse now told himthat the Huntingtons called it Maurice. That seemed strange, for hehad been under the impression that his sister-in-law had been about toname her baby for its father. But his memory was hazy. The babies hadnot seemed of much importance then.
But Mr. Tyson understood the whole matter when, several years before,he had received a letter from the English nurse, who informed him thatthe baby was the child of the Huntingtons and that she was sorry forthe deception. “I did not know what your wife would do about it, and Iwanted the Huntington baby to have a home. I will tell no one else.”
“So,” said Maurice, as he quoted the nurse’s words, “the Huntingtonbaby has had a home! I suppose that I should be very grateful! Indeed,I am grateful. You should have seen poor old Dad when he was tellingme. He asked me to keep on calling him father and added that hethought a great deal of his worthless son. I wondered that when hewas dealing with me for my extravagance at college he did not tell methis. He didn’t have the heart, he said, and it was too late for him tofeel that I was not his own son. That was pretty nice of Dad! And hewouldn’t give it away to Mother, either.
“I shall have to keep calling her that, of course. I haven’t so manycompunctions in regard to her. Yet she has been good to me. I have hadas much mothering as my kid brother. Say,--it’s going to be hard torealize that he isn’t my brother!
“When it comes to Grandmother,--she must not leave me any money becauseshe thinks I am her grandson. I don’t know what to do about that. Dadmade me promise not to do anything right now. Promise me, Ann, that youwill tell her privately any time you think she ought to know.”
“I couldn’t do that, Maury. It will occur to you what should be doneabout all this. In the whole story, Maurice, there isn’t one thing foryou to be ashamed of! It was just the peculiar set of circumstances.And I’m sure I’m glad that English nurse did what she did. Well, Isuppose I ought not to say that, for doing what isn’t square is neverright. But she repented anyhow. And suppose that we’d never had you inthe family!”
Ann almost regretted her impulsive words when she saw the effect theyhad. But was not it her duty to do what she could to cheer him up inhis whirl o
f discouragement?
“That is dear of you to say, little one,” said Maurice, taking Ann’shand in his cold one. It had cost Maurice something to go over this.“I’ll never forget your sympathy, Ann, and when I make good, I’m goingto ask you to be another Ann Huntington.”
“Maury,” called Suzanne, “got enough of constellations yet? I want youto come and start for the boys that crazy college song you sang lastnight.”
Ann and Maurice walked the short distance to the central group, whereMaurice accepted the guitar that Louise handed him and led off. Ann,watching him, came to the conclusion that however much he might beupset, Maurice was now more or less relieved, knowing the truth, andhaving told Ann.
When the song, a wild ditty in dialect, was over, the girls gave heartyapplause. “You’d think that Maurice was the real thing from the way hereels off that foreign dialect,” said Dick Bell. “Say, Maury, wherewere you born anyhow?”
Suzanne, laughing, answered for Maurice, “In Greece,” she said. “That’swhere he gets his Grecian nose!”
It was late when the young people separated. Long since the yacht hadleft the sea and found its way to the dock in New River. Dick and hissister accompanied Louise Duncan to her own yacht. The river was verystill, a cool wind blowing from the ocean, when Ann, creeping into herberth, heard the boys on deck begin to serenade them again in the softold college tunes used by generations. Suzanne sat up in her berth tolisten. But sleepy Ann lay back on her pillow with a pleased smile.“Maurice is showing me that he can ‘carry on’,” she thought, and hermind began to go over what he had told her. “‘Ann Huntington’! Wouldn’tit be odd if----?”
THE END.
Ann Crosses a Secret Trail Page 17
