From the Valley of the Missing Part 62

"What--what did you say your father's name was, boy?"

"Lon Cronk, Sir--and he's the worst man ye ever see. I bet he's the worst man in the state--only Lem Crabbe! He beat my sister, and were makin' me a thief."

Governor Vandecar dropped into his desk-chair. For a s.p.a.ce of time his face was concealed from Ann and Floyd by his quivering hand. When he looked up, the joy in his eyes formed a strange contrast to Ann's tearful face. Floyd, thinking the change in the governor boded well for Fledra, advanced a step.

"Sit down, boy," said the governor in a voice that was still hoa.r.s.e.

"Now, then, answer me a few questions. Did your father ever live in Syracuse?"

"Yep, me and Flea were born there."

"How old are you?"

"Comin' sixteen."

"And your sister? Tell me about her. Is she--how old is she?"

"We be twins," replied Floyd steadily.

The girl, watching the unfolding of a life's tragedy, was silent even to hus.h.i.+ng her breathing. The truth was slowly dawning upon her. How well she knew the story of the kidnapped children! How often had her own heart bled for the tender mother, spending endless days in vain mourning! She saw Governor Vandecar stand, saw him sway a little, and then turn toward the door.

"Governor, Governor!" she called tremulously, "I feel as if I were going to faint. Oh, can't you see it all? Where is Mrs. Vandecar?"

"Stay, Ann, stay! Wait! Boy, have you ever had any reason to believe that you were not the son of Lon Cronk?" Through fear of making a mistake, he had asked this question. He knew that, should he plant false hope in the timid mother he had s.h.i.+elded for years, she would be unable to bear it.

"Nope," replied Floyd wonderingly; "only that he hated me and Flea. He were awful to us sometimes."

"There can be no mistake," Ann thrust in. "He looks too much like you, and the girl is exactly like him.... Oh, Floyd!"

Vandecar extended his arms, and, with a sob that shook his soul, drew his boy to him.

"You're not Cronk's son," he said; "you're mine!... G.o.d! Ann, you'll never know just how I feel toward you and Horace. You've made me your life debtor; but, of course--of course, I didn't know, did I?" Then, startled by a new thought, he realized Floyd. "But my girl!"

"Horace has gone for her," Ann cried.

"And I will follow him," groaned Vandecar. "Horace--and he could not interest me in my own babies! If I'd helped him, my little girl wouldn't have been taken away!"

In the man's breakdown, Ann's calm disappeared. Unable to restrain her tears, she fluttered about, first to Floyd, then to his father, kissing the boy again and again, a.s.suring and rea.s.suring the governor.

"Just remember," she whispered, bending over the sobbing man, "Horace loves her better than anything in the world. Listen, Floyd! He's going to marry her. Don't you think he'll do everything in his power to save her?... Don't--don't sob that way!"

Of a sudden Vandecar leaped to his feet. Brus.h.i.+ng a lock of white hair from his damp brow, he turned to Floyd.

"Before I do anything else, I must take you to your mother."

"But ain't ye goin' for Flea?" demanded Floyd.

"Of course, I am going for my girl," cried Vandecar, "as fast as a train can take me!" He turned suddenly and placed his firm hands on the boy's shoulders. "Before I take you upstairs, boy, listen to me! You've a little mother, a sick little mother who has mourned you and your sister for years. I'm going to leave her with you while I'm gone for your sister. Your mother is ill, and--and needs you!"

Still more interested in his absent sister than in his newly found parent, Floyd put in:

"I'll do anything ye say, if ye'll go for Flea."

Ann touched the father's arm gently.

"Come upstairs now."

Mrs. Vandecar was alone when her husband entered. She was sitting near the window, her eyes pensive and sad. The governor advanced a step, thrusting back the desire to blurt out the truth. The woman glanced into his eyes, and the change there brought her to her feet. Her face paled, and she put out her slender, trembling hands.

"There's something the matter, Floyd.... What's--what's happened?... I heard the bell ring."

In an instant he crushed her to him, and in an agitated voice whispered gently:

"Darling, can you stand very good news--very, very good news, indeed?...

No, no; if you tremble like that, I sha'n't tell you. It's only when you promise me--"

"I promise, I promise, Floyd! Is it anything about our--our children?"

"Yes--I have found them!"

How many times for lesser things had she fainted! How many hours had she lain too weak to speak! He expected her now to evince her frail spirit.

He felt her s.h.i.+ver, felt her muscles tighten, until she seemed to grow taller as he held her. Then she drooped a little, as if afraid. Dazedly she brushed back her tumbled hair, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng past him in the direction of the door.

"Bring--bring them--to--me!" she breathed.

Just how to explain her daughter's danger pressed heavily upon him. He dared not picture Lon Cronk or the man Floyd had described. To gain a moment, he said:

"I will, Dear; but only one of them is here. The other one--"

"Which one is here?"

"The boy, Sweetheart, our own Floyd."

Although she was shaking like a leaf, Vandecar saw that she was not fainting, and when she struggled to be free he released her. She staggered a little, and said helplessly:

"Then, why--why don't you bring--him to me?"

"I will, if you'll sit down and let me tell you something." He knelt beside her and spoke tenderly:

"Sweetheart, our children have been near us for months. They came to Ann and Horace--"

Fledra Vandecar gave a glad little cry.

"It was he, then, the pretty boy that prayed! Oh, Floyd, something told me! But you said he was here alone. Where is my girl?"

"That's what I want to tell you, Fledra. Look at me, dear heart."