Adeline had drawn bridle and was slowly approaching. Her colour was high. She looked more composed than she felt. When she had stopped her horse beside the carriage she looked down enquiringly into Mrs. Wilmott’s face, who said:
"I wonder if you can give me any information of the whereabouts of Mr. James Wilmott. I am told he bought a property in this locality".
"Yes", returned Adeline, in a deep quiet tone, "he did. A little log cabin it was, far up the river where the swamp is, and an acre or two of land. An Indian boy was with him".
"Oh!" Mrs. Wilmott’s face showed a faint look of shock. "Really. A swamp, did you say? An Indian! How degrading".
"It was not all swamp. He had a cow and a pig and a few fowls. He might have been worse off".
"Is he gone from there?"
"Yes. He’s gone".
Mrs. Wilmott drew a deep breath, then between pale lips she said, in a tense tone, "I should like to speak to you privately". She looked at the slumping back of the driver. Then she said:
"Just drive along the road a short distance while I converse with this lady. Hold the horses steady whilst my daughter and I get out of the carriage. Now be very careful. Steady the horses!"
"Remember I’m paid by the hour", he grumbled. "You’ll have a pretty bill". He shifted his tobacco to the other cheek and looked vindictively over his shoulder at her.
"I shall certainly complain to your master", she declared. "You are disobliging and impudent".
"There’s no masters here!" He glared at her. "No masters, I tell ye! No masters!"
"Mind your manners, my man!"
"There’s no manners here neither and no ’my man-ing.’ It’s a free country. Now are you goin’ to get out or sit there complaining?"
Mrs. Wilmott alighted cautiously, followed by her daughter. The driver went a little distance down the road. Adeline dismounted and led the way to a grassy knoll. Her horse began at once to crop the dry herbage. She said: "We can talk quite privately here. Will you sit down?"
She invited Mrs. Wilmott to be seated as though in her own drawing-room. Mrs. Wilmott looked at her inquisitively, and at the same moment explained herself. Adeline’s gaze was sympathetic.
"I am Mrs. Wilmott", she said. "I am here to seek my husband. You must think the circumstances very strange. They are indeed. My husband is a very strange man. He is a very peculiar man. I’ve had to come all the way from London in search of him. My father, Mr. Peter Quinton, he is descended from Sir Ralph Quinton who was a great inventor and scientist of the sixteenth century-you may have heard of him-I mean of Sir Ralph, of course, not of my father. Not that I should say my father is not a man of some importance, for he has stood for his borough more than once and been not too badly defeated. But naturally, he is not as important as Sir Ralph. He said to me-and much as I dislike repeating the private remarks of my family to a stranger, I shall repeat this to you, for you appear so exceedingly reliable and sympathetic-he said to me-that is, my father, not Sir Ralph, said to me-’Henrietta, a man who had no more consciousness of his responsibilities than to go to a distant country on a pleasure trip and remain away for a year and a half without writing a line home, is not worth seeking.’ But I’m not of that opinion. A husband’s place is with his wife, I insist. Don’t you agree?"
"If it can be done", said Adeline, her sympathetic eyes on Mrs. Wilmott’s face.
"That’s just what I say. And I have left no stone unturned till I have tracked James down. You have met him, I gather".
"Yes. I have met him".
"And how were you impressed by him? Pray do not try to spare my feelings. If he lived here, as you say, in a swamp with a cow and a pig, he must have reached a very low ebb".
"He had".
"Dear me! It is mortifying to think of such a situation. And where did he go from here? I must ask you your name. Really, I never have been so informal in my life. Anyone seeing me sitting in this dusty ditch would scarcely credit what my position in London is. My father, Mr. Peter Quinton who I think I mentioned, is-"
The young girl here distracted her mother’s attention by the ferocity with which she was scratching mosquito bites on her plump legs.
"Hettie!" cried Mrs. Wilmott. "Stop it!"
"I can’t", returned Hettie, in a hoarse whimpering voice. "They itch".
"What if they do! No lady would scratch her limbs under any circumstances".
"Can I go into the fence corner and scratch them?"
"No. I say no, Hettie".
"They itch!"
"I say no. That is final". Mrs. Wilmott turned to Adeline. "I was about to ask you your name and where Mr. Wilmott went from here, but this child has me at my wits’ end with her disabilities. Since we left England she has suffered in turn from train-sickness, sea-sickness, mumps, dyspepsia, hives, ingrowing toe-nail, sties and now it is bites".
"They itch", said Hettie.
"Of course they itch!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilmott, in complete exasperation. "What else are they for?"
"I hate midges".
"Well, hate them or not, you are to stop scratching". Again she turned her eyes questioningly to Adeline.
"I am Mrs. White", Adeline answered, swallowing the last syllable of the name. "My husband and I came over on the same ship with Mr. Wilmott. We saw a good deal of him".
"Oh, how fortunate that I should find you! How did my husband conduct himself on the voyage?"
"Very miserably", said Adeline.
"Did he speak of his family?"
"Never a word".
"Dear, dear! How unfeeling of him! Dear me! What a man! And he has left this place, you say?"
"Some time ago".
"Where did he go? Wherever it is I shall follow him".
"He left in the darkness of night, with no word to anyone, but ’tis said he went to Mexico and died of a fever there. Now I can give you the address of two Irish gentlemen who are staying in New York and who can tell you much more about him than I can. If any two men on this continent can help you to discover what the true end of your husband was, these are the two".
"He died!" cried Mrs. Wilmott, on a note of frustration. "You say he died! Oh, surely not. He never had a day’s illness in his life. He can’t be dead".
"’Tis said he died in Mexico", said Adeline, plucking a handful of grass.
"Who says so?"
"The word came and went. I cannot remember who said it first".
"I must talk to these people. Who are they?"
"They’ll be glad to talk to you, for, when he left, he owed money to everyone in the neighbourhood. I suppose you will pay his debts?"
"Never!" There were two sharp points in Mrs. Wilmott’s eyes, "I am under no such obligation nor ever could be".
"It is a strange country", said Adeline. "You never know what will be brought up against you".
"James was always talking about the East", said Mrs. Wilmott. "He appeared fascinated by the East. I can’t imagine why he came here".
"I believe he thought he was bound for the East". Adeline laid the handful of grass in a little mound like a grave. "But he got on to the wrong ship".
"Dear, oh dear, oh dear! It’s enough to make me say I am well rid of him".
"I think you are indeed", said Adeline. "A man like that is bound to do something desperate. It boils up in him for years and then bursts forth".
"I thank Heaven that my child bears no faintest resemblance to him. She is the image of my father".
"I don’t like Grandpa", said Hettie.
Mrs. Wilmott almost screamed. "Hettie, how dare you say such a thing! Your dear grandpapa who is so superior to other people in every way!"
"I don’t like him".
Mrs. Wilmott turned to Adeline in despair.
"I don’t know what has come over the child. Before we left home she was the most docile and respectful girl you could imagine. Now she will say quite shocking things".