On reaching the town, Rowland and the sheriff stopped at the court-house and Mary went to the Keiths'. To her great delight, she saw Tobe out in the little yard, seated under an apple-tree. He got up at once, and with scarcely any limp at all came to meet her.
"Mother is not here," he said, as he shook hands. "It is kind of you to come, Miss Mary."
"I heard you were recovering," Mary returned, "and I was very glad. You know what it meant to me, Tobe?"
"Yes, I do, and that helped me pull through, I think, Miss Mary. Those boys are too young and thoughtless to shoulder a load like that would have been. We were all to blame."
"I hope we will have no trouble with the courts," Mary said. "What do you think about that, Tobe?"
He waved his hands lightly. "Nothing will be done," he answered. "The sheriff and three or four good lawyers told me so. They said it all depended on whether I'd press the charges, and I don't intend to, Miss Mary. I've had my lesson, and the boys have, too. I've cut liquor out and folks say they have, too."
She nodded. "Yes, they have changed remarkably. They are more serious, and they work every day."
Tobe was smiling significantly. For a moment he was silent; then he said: "Miss Mary, me and mother are powerfully bothered about a certain thing. We want to know who furnished the money that came to me that night. As soon as I heard, down in Atlanta, that the stranger that fetched it was a friend of that Mr. Brown on your place, and that Mr. Brown was with him that night and kept back out of sight, why, we was sure that you sent the money, but we heard after we got back that you said you didn't."
"I didn't, Tobe," Mary declared. "I tried to raise it, but failed to get it in time. In fact, I was surprised to hear that you had received it."
"Then you can't tell us anything about that?" Tobe's face fell.
"I think I can, and I think I ought to." Mary's color was slightly higher now. "Tobe, you see, since Mr. Brown came to us he has become warmly attached to my brothers, and he was greatly disturbed over the danger they and you were in. I have an idea that the stranger you saw was an old friend of his who came here to pay him some money he owed. I suppose that Mr. Brown did not want to get credit for what he did, and so he got his friend to hand you the money that night."
"Now I understand it better," Tobe smiled. "He must be a fine man, and I don't believe the reports the sheriff and his gang are circulating about him. They say he is in big trouble himself—in fact, that him and his friend belong to the bunch of circus outlaws that are wanted. The sheriff had the cheek to try to tie me up with it, because this money came as it did, but I laughed in his face. I told him he'd have to prove it, and he went off with a hangdog look on him."
"Mr. Brown is not guilty, but he is in trouble over it, Tobe," Mary sighed, as she turned to leave.
Tobe, his hat in his hand, went with her to the gate and opened it, with the unstudied grace of his class. He stood bowing as she walked away toward the square. She was to meet her father at the hotel, and thither she went, vaguely depressed by the talk she had had concerning Charles.
She had reached the front of the hotel when she saw Sam Lee at a canvas-covered wagon belonging to a mountain farmer. The clerk was buying some produce for the hotel table and, seeing her, he left the farmer and came to her.
"I was on the lookout for you," he said, doffing his hat and bowing. "I heard you were around at Keith's. There is some lady friend of yours up in the parlor. She come in on the south-bound about half an hour ago. She is powerful stylish-looking, and wanted to see about some conveyance out to your place, when I told her that you and your pa were in town. She begged me to look you up, and I told her I would. She said she would wait in the parlor. She looks like she may be some of your Virginia kin. I didn't ask her name, for there was no reason for it."
"I can't imagine who it can be," Mary answered. "Well, I'll go up. If you see my father, will you send him up, too, please?"
Mary went into the entrance-hall and up the stairs to the parlor at the end of the first flight. The door was open, and the big room, being somewhat shaded, appeared so dark after her walk in the glaring sunlight that she was at first unable to see distinctly. Presently, however, she became aware of a woman's figure rising from a sofa in a corner and approaching her.
"May I ask if this is Miss Rowland?" a sweet, tremulous voice inquired.
"Yes, I am Miss Rowland," Mary answered. "Are you the lady who wanted to see me?"
"Yes. I asked the clerk about you, and he said he would send you up here. Miss Rowland, I am a stranger, but it is imperative that I see you. There is, I believe, a gentleman working on your place whose name is Charles Browne."
Mary started, stared, and was silent. Her mind fairly whirled in confusion. Charles had hinted at troubles he had left behind him. How could she know that it would be wise for her to speak in any way of him and his affairs to a total stranger? She remained silent. She had drawn herself up to her full height; her head and neck were rigid, her hands clasped tightly before her.
"Oh, I see," the stranger went on. "You don't know me yet, and you are such a faithful friend to him that you don't want to risk the slightest misstep. Well, you are right, and I am wrong. I was in too great a hurry. I see now what I've got to do, Miss Rowland. I've got to convince you that I am his friend, and a faithful one, too."
Mary's perplexed face was still rigid and was growing even pale. Her eyes, more accustomed to the darkened room, were enabled now to get a clearer view of the visitor. She felt strangely drawn by the rather sad and pinched features, the yearning eyes, and the sweet, almost pathetic voice.
"Miss Rowland, I am Charlie's sister-in-law, Mrs. William Browne. I've come here from Boston to tell you and your father something that you ought to know, for, Miss Rowland, I know that Charlie loves you. It came to me through another, but when I saw you come in at that door I knew it to be the truth beyond doubt. You are beautiful, beautiful, and are so true to him that you stand there now, afraid that through me you may harm his interests."
"He has spoken to me of you," Mary said, "and of Ruth." Her hands went out impulsively and clasped those of Celeste. "You must pardon me, Mrs. Browne, if—if I seem slow to—"
"I understand thoroughly," Celeste broke in. "I've come to bring you good, not bad news. My dear, Charlie is the noblest man in all the world—yes, in all the world. Over a year ago his brother, my husband, committed a great offense against the law. On the verge of detection he was about to kill himself and leave me and Ruth under the stigma of it all. Charles sacrificed himself under a sacred agreement with my husband. He left Boston, pursued for a crime he had not committed, and disgraced for life. But the other day Michael, an old servant of ours, came back and told me about you and Charles—that Charles adored you, but was too honorable to think of marriage with you under the circumstances. Michael said Charlie was very unhappy. It made me so, for I wanted him and you to get your rights. I finally told my husband how I felt, and demanded that he do his duty. It drove him out of his mind temporarily. He is now in a sanatorium on the way to recovery. He has confessed everything to his uncle, whose influence at the bank has caused the dismissal of the charges, the financial loss having been made good. Moreover, explanations have been published in the Boston papers which clear Charlie's name in full."
"Oh, I'm so glad! I'm so glad!" Mary now fairly glowed. "You've come just in time to save him from grave trouble." And Mary went on to explain the situation. The two sat side by side on the sofa, holding each other's hands. Rowland found them there half an hour later, and heard the news. He made a most favorable impression on the Boston lady as he stood gravely listening to all she had to say, in the polished manner of the old régime. Then he told them both that he must see the sheriff at once and have the action against Charles suppressed.
In half an hour Rowland came back. Everything had been settled and the bond destroyed. Then he pressed Celeste to return home with him and his daughter, and Mary joined in the invitation. Celeste accepted with delight, for she was eager to see Charles as soon as possible, and Rowland went to order a carriage from the livery-stable. There was, however, a delay in securing a conveyance, and it was near sundown before they had started homeward.