Aunt Jane's Nieces at Work Part 25

The servants at Elmhurst all ate in a pleasant dining room with windows facing a garden of geraniums. Tom Gates had been at the house two days before he encountered Eliza Parsons at the table, for the servants were not all able to take their meals at the same time.

It was at luncheon, the day of the joint debate at Fairview, that the young man first met Eliza, who sat opposite him. The only other person present was old Donald, the coachman, who was rather deaf and never paid any attention to the chatter around him.

As he took his seat Tom gave a half-frightened glance into Eliza's face and then turned red as she smiled coquettishly and said:

"Dear me! It's the young man who called me his dear Lucy."

"You--you're very like her," stammered Tom, unable to take his eyes from her face. "Even now I--I can't believe I'm mistaken."

She laughed merrily in a sweet, musical voice, and then suddenly stopped with her hand on her heart and cast at him a startled look that was in such sharp contrast to her former demeanor that he rose from his chair.

"Sit down, please," she said, slowly. And then she studied his face with sober earnestness--with almost wistful longing. But she shook her head presently, and sighed; and a moment later had regained her lightness of manner.

"It's a relief to have a quiet house for a day, isn't it?" she asked, eating her soup calmly. "I'll be glad when the election's over."

"Have you been here long?" he asked, although Beth had told him of Eliza's coming to Elmhurst.

"Only a short time. And you?"

"Two days," said he. "But where did you live before you came here?"

She shook her head.

"I wish you would answer me," he begged. "I have a reason for asking."

"What reason?" she demanded, suddenly serious again.

"Two people have never lived that were so near alike as you and Lucy Rogers."

"Indeed?"

"Will you show me your left arm?"

"No."

She was again studying his face.

"If you are Lucy Rogers you have a scar there--a scar where you burned yourself years ago."

She seemed frightened for a moment. Then she said:

"I have no scar on my left arm."

"Will you prove it?"

"No. You are annoying me. What did you say your name is?"

"Tom Gates."

She was thoughtful for a moment and then shook her head.

"I have never heard of you," she declared, positively, and resumed her eating.

Tom was nonplussed. One moment he believed she was Lucy, and the next told himself that it was impossible. This girl possessed mannerisms that Lucy had never exhibited in all the years he had known her. She was bold and unabashed where Lucy was shy and una.s.suming. This girl's eyes laughed, while Lucy's were grave and serious; yet they were the same eyes.

"Let me tell you about my lost Lucy," he said, with a glance at the unconscious Donald.

"Go ahead, if it will relieve you," she answered, demurely.

"She lived on a farm five miles from here, and she was my sweetheart.

Her mother is blind and her father old and feeble. She worked for a dentist in the town and was accused of stealing a ring, and it nearly broke her heart to be so unjustly suspected. In order to make good the loss of the ring, a valuable diamond--I--I got into trouble, and Lucy was so shocked and distressed that she--she lost her head--became mad, you know--and left home during the night without a word to any one. We haven't been able to find her since."

"That's too bad," remarked Eliza Parsons, b.u.t.tering her bread.

"About the time that Lucy went away, you appeared at Elmhurst,"

continued Tom. "And in face and form you're the image of my Lucy. That is why I asked you to tell me where you came from and how you came here."

"Ah, you think I'm mad, do you?" asked the girl, with a quizzical smile.

"Well, I'm not going to satisfy your curiosity, even to prove my sanity; and I'm not anxious to pose as your lost Lucy. So please pa.s.s the sugar and try to be sociable, instead of staring at me as if I scared you."

Tom pa.s.sed the sugar, but he could not eat, nor could he tear himself away from this strange girl's presence. He tried again to draw her into conversation, but she showed annoyance and resented his persistence.

Presently she went away, giving him an amused smile as she left the room--a smile that made him feel that this was indeed a case of mistaken ident.i.ty.

In fact, Tom Gates, on sober reflection, knew that the girl could not be Lucy, yet he could not still the yearning in his heart whenever he saw her. His heart declared that she was Lucy, and his head realized that she could not be.

While he waited in the library for Mr. Forbes to return from Fairview a man was shown into the room and sat down quietly in a corner.

He was a small, lean man, of una.s.suming appearance, with a thin face and gray eyes set close together. When he looked at Tom Gates he scarcely seemed to see him, and his manner conveyed the impression that he disliked to attract notice.

"Waiting for Mr. Forbes, sir?" asked Tom.

"Yes," was the quiet reply.

Suddenly it struck the young man that this might be the detective who called every evening to give his report, and if so Tom was anxious to talk with him. So he ventured to say:

"It's Mr. Burke, isn't it?"

The man nodded, and looked out of the window.

"I'm Tom Gates, sir."

"Yes; I know."

"You've seen me before?" asked the youth, astonished.

"No; I've heard of you. That's all."