AUNT JANE'S NIECES AND UNCLE JOHN
Continued....
CHAPTER XXI
A TALE OF WOE
That evening after dinner, as Mr. Merrick sat alone
in the hotel
lobby, 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 not
yet bring himself to like his personality, but on
Myrtle's account and
because he was himself generous enough to wish to be
of service to
anyone so forlorn and unhappy, he treated Mr. Jones
with more respect
than he really thought he deserved.
"Tell me, Mr. Merrick," was the abrupt request,
"where you found
Myrtle Dean."
Uncle John told him willingly. There was no doubt
but Myrtle had
interested the man.
"My girls found her on the train between Chicago and
Denver," he
began. "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 without
friends or money. She was not at all sure her uncle
was still in
Leadville, in which case she would be at the mercy
of a cold world. So
I telegraphed and found that Anson Jones had been
gone from the mining
camp for several months. Do you know, sir, I at
first suspected you
might be the missing uncle? For I heard you were a
miner and found
that your name is Jones. But I soon discovered you
are not Anson
Jones, 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 Patsy
had adopted Myrtle, the physician's examination and
report upon her
condition, and then told the main points of their
long but delightful
journey from Albuquerque to San Diego in the
limousine.
"It was one of the most fortunate experiments we
have ever tried," he
concluded; "for the child has been the sweetest and
most agreeable
companion imaginable, and her affection and
gratitude have amply
repaid us for anything we have done for her. I am
determined she shall
not leave us, sir. When we return to New York I
shall consult the best
specialist to be had, and I am confident she can be
fully cured and
made as good as new."
The other man had listened intently, and when the
story was finished
he sat silent for a time, as if considering and
pondering over what he
had 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 he
added: "I myself saw that you are registered as C.B.
Jones."
"It is the same thing," was the reply. "My name is
Collanson--but my
family always called me 'Anson', when I had a
family--and by that name
I 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 is
Collanson."
"Probably not. Her mother, sir, my sister, was my
only remaining
relative, the only person on earth who cared for
me--although I
foolishly believed another did. I worked for success
as much on
Kitty's account--Kitty was Myrtle's mother--as for
my own sake. I
intended some day to make her comfortable and happy,
for I knew her
husband's death had left her poor and friendless. I
did not see her
for years, nor write to her often; it was not my
way. But Kitty always
knew I loved her."
He paused and sat silent a moment. Then he resumed,
in his quiet, even
tones:
"There is another part of my story that you must
know to understand
me fully; to know why I am now a hopeless, desperate
man; or was
until--until last night, perhaps. Some years ago,
when in Boston, I
fell in love with a beautiful girl. I am nearly
fifty, and she was not
quite thirty, but it never occurred to me that I was
too old to win
her love, and she frankly confessed she cared for
me. But she said she
could not marry a poor man and would therefore wait
for me to make a
fortune. Then I might be sure she would marry me. I
believed her. I do
not 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 and
planned! One cannot always make a fortune in a short
time. It took me
years, and all the time she renewed her promises and
kept my hopes and
my ambitions alive.
"At last I won the game, as I knew I should do in
time. It was a big
strike. I discovered the 'Blue Bonnet' mine, and
sold a half interest
in it for a million. Then I hurried to Boston to
claim my bride....
She had been married just three months, after
waiting, or pretending
to wait, for me for nearly ten years! She married a
poor lawyer, too,
after persistently refusing me because _I_ was poor.
She laughed at
my despair and coldly advised me to find some one
else to share my
fortune."
He paused again and wearily passed his hand over his
eyes--a familiar
gesture, as Myrtle knew. His voice had grown more
and more dismal as
he proceeded, and just now he seemed as desolate and
unhappy as when
first 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 daughter
Myrtle, whom I had never seen, had been killed in an
automobile
accident. 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 own
baseness in sending an unprotected child to the far
West to seek an
unknown uncle. I paid Martha Dean back the money she
claimed she had
spent for Myrtle's funeral; that was mere robbery, I
suppose, but not
to be compared with the crime of her false report. I
found myself
bereft of sweetheart, sister--even an unknown niece.
Despair claimed
me. 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 saw
the means of ending all my misery. But Myrtle
interfered."
Uncle John, now thoroughly interested and
sympathetic, leaned over and
said solemnly:
"The hand of God was in that!"
Mr. Jones nodded.
"I am beginning to believe it," he replied. "The
girl's face won me
even in that despairing mood. She has Kitty's eyes."
"They are beautiful eyes," said Uncle John,
earnestly. "Sir, you have
found in your niece one of the sweetest and most
lovely girls that
ever lived. I congratulate you!"
Mr. Jones nodded again. His mood had changed again
since they began
to speak of Myrtle. His eyes now glowed with
pleasure and pride. He
clasped 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 to
wonder 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 who
is to break the news to Myrtle?"
"No one, just yet," was the reply. "Allow me, sir,
if you please, to
keep her in ignorance of the truth a little longer.
I only made the
discovery myself today, you see, and I need time to
think it all out
and 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 Anson
Jones remained to talk with them.
Beth and Patsy were really surprised to find the
"Sad One" chatting
pleasantly with Uncle John. The Major looked at the
man curiously, not
understanding the change in him. But Myrtle was
quite proud of the
progress he was making and his improved spirits
rendered the girl very
happy indeed. Why she should take such an interest
in this man she
could not have explained, except that he had been
discouraged and
hopeless and she had succeeded in preventing him
from destroying his
life and given him courage to face the world anew.
But surely that was
enough, quite sufficient to give her a feeling of
"proprietorship," as
Patsy 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 Patsy
nor Beth could yet see much to interest them or to
admire in his
gloomy character; but Myrtle's intuition led her to
see beneath the
surface, and she knew there were lovable traits in
Mr. Jones' nature
if he could only be induced to display them.
AUNT JANE'S NIECES AND UNCLE JOHN
Continued....
 
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