Part 32 (1/2)

”Sensible!” he exclaimed. ”I should rather say so! I have never seen any one in my life who was as sensible--I mean _sound_ and _wise_--as Anthy is.”

Two months before, Nort himself would have been the first to laugh at such a situation as this: he would have laughed at himself, at me, and even at Anthy, but now he was in no such mood. I prize the memory of that moment; it was one of those rare times in life when it is given us to see a human spirit at the moment of its greatest truth, simplicity, pa.s.sion. And is it not a worthy moment when everything that is selfish in a human heart is consumed in the white heat of a great emotion?

Toward noon, when Harriet came in, greatly astonished to find a visitor with me, Nort quite shocked her by jumping up from his chair and seizing her by both hands.

”I'm terribly glad to see you, Miss Grayson,” he said.

During dinner he seemed unable to tell whether he was eating chicken or pie, and no sooner were we through than he insisted upon hurrying away.

He pledged me to secrecy concerning his whereabouts, but left his address.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XXVII

FERGUS MACGREGOR GOES TO THE HILLS

I think of no act in all the drama of the _Star_ of Hempfield with greater affection, return in memory to none with deeper pleasure, than that which now opened upon the narrow stage of our village life. It centred around Nort and Anthy, of course, but it began with the old Captain, and about a week after Nort's visit at the farm.

The old Captain was sick in bed with one of his periodical ”attacks.”

The old Captain was a man of great robust.i.ty and activity of both body and mind, and he made no docile invalid. At one moment he seemed to be greatly depressed, groaned a good deal, and considered that he had not long to live; but at the next moment he would become impatient, and want to be up immediately and save the nation from the ravages of the Democratic party. I went over to see him on the second day of his illness, and the first thing he said when I came in was this:

”Where's Nort? I'd like to know what's become of the boy. I never thought he'd leave Hempfield without at least saying good-bye. It isn't like him.”

In writing to Nort that night, I told him of my visit to the old Captain and what the Captain said, and on the second morning, when I walked into the office of the _Star_, what was my astonishment to see Nort down on his knees tinkering the gasoline engine.

Fergus was sitting stiffly on his stool, with his old green shade over his eyes. I learned afterward the exact circ.u.mstances of the meeting between the two men. Nort had walked in quite as usual, and hung his coat on the customary hook.

”h.e.l.lo, Fergus!” he said, also quite as usual.

Fergus looked around at him, and said nothing at all. Nort walked over to the stone, took up a stickful of type, and began to distribute it in the cases. Presently he looked around at Fergus with a broad smile on his face.

”Fergus, where's the fatted calf?”

”Humph!” remarked Fergus.

When Nort got down for another take of the type, Fergus observed to the general atmosphere:

”The old engine's out of order.”

Nort stepped impulsively toward Fergus's case, and said with wistful affection in his voice:

”I knew, Fergus, that you'd kill the fatted calf for me!”

”Humph!” observed Fergus.

And that was why I found Nort bending over the engine when I came in, whistling quite in his old way. The moment he saw me, he forestalled any remark by inquiring:

”How's the Cap'n to-day?”