Part 22 (1/2)

Then I sent for Eleanor to look after my family, and after she came I had other reasons you know nothing about for keeping silent concerning Captain Stanwell. And so the years slipped away, and there it is, you see. If I had given up the property when I settled here first I should have been almost dest.i.tute. Now, I ask you, is there any living man could blame me?”

Monteith answered warily. ”There are not many men who would have acted differently in your place, I fear, only--it's rather hard on the boy.”

”Pshaw, I don't believe the boy's claim was worth a bra.s.s farthing. If it was, why couldn't his old grandfather have gone to law about it?”

Monteith shook his head. ”You don't know those Highlanders; they would sooner be bereft of every stick or stone they possess than enter a law court. Besides, you can't deny, Captain, that even had Big Malcolm wished to take such measures, he well knew that in those days a man of his cla.s.s hadn't much chance against one of yours.”

Captain Herbert tramped up and down the little room. Monteith sat silent, waiting. He was able to guess with some degree of accuracy the workings of his friend's mind. Captain Herbert was a man who believed in letting circ.u.mstances take care of themselves, particularly if they were of the disagreeable variety; but he would willingly do no man a wrong; and Monteith well knew that his warm heart was a prey to regret, and he was therefore full of hope for Ralph. But the Captain had a stormy journey to traverse before arriving at any conclusion.

”If the matter were taken into a law court now, no fool would say for a moment that I wasn't the owner of this place after all these years. It was a howling wilderness when I came here.”

”But a court might say you were under some obligation to that boy, Captain.”

”Nonsense! Do you want me to present him with a deed of all my property?”

”Not at all, but I want you to act fairly by him, as I am sure you will.”

The steady tramp ceased at last, and as Monteith had expected his host came and stood before the fire.

”It's a mean business, the whole thing, I know, Archie; and I've hated the thought of it all these years. But what could I do? It was too late to mend matters when I found my mistake.”

”It's never too late to mend,” quoted the imperturbable guest. ”And you're comfortably well off now, Captain, with that last legacy.”

Captain Herbert evidently did not hear him. ”I'm sorry about that boy,” he said, staring into the grate with brows knit, ”I'm truly sorry.”

Monteith felt that now was his opportunity, and he put Scotty's case forward strongly. He was careful not to press the boy's legal claims, but made much of the moral obligation. Here was a young man with marked ability and no worldly resources, his high ambitions fettered by poverty. He had already spent two winters in the lumber camps; he was getting to be a famous river pilot, and, as matters stood, there seemed nothing better ahead of him. Ralph was a youth who would probably make his way in the world somehow, but just now he needed a helping hand. A little a.s.sistance at present would make his fortune, and who so fitted to give that a.s.sistance as Captain Herbert?

The appeal was received in silence. Captain Herbert sat, his brows drawn together, his eyes fixed upon the fire. ”There's another reason, stronger than any you suspect for my sister's antipathy for the young man,” he said suddenly without looking up. Monteith's eyebrows rose.

”It is a very unpleasant subject to refer to, but it seems necessary that you should know. When Captain Stanwell came to this country he was engaged to marry my sister. He came out here, presumably to make a home for her. A pretty face among the emigrants took his fancy, and he married shortly after he landed. So you may imagine I am not likely to have any warm feeling for the rascal's son.”

Monteith sat staring. He had come to represent Scotty's righteous cause, to uphold him as the wronged, and here were the tables turned upon him.

”All these years, Eleanor never dreamed that the child lived. Indeed, I am not sure that she knew Stanwell had a child, and of course she never guessed who little Bluebell's Scotty was. And I naturally didn't see any reason for enlightening her. She nearly discovered it once, the first time I saw the boy. But when he brought Bluebell here she saw the resemblance at once--he's the image of his father--she asked him his name, and it all came out, and you can imagine the scene. She sent him off, and ordered the youngster never to speak to him again, and the poor little monkey's been fairly sick over it. There couldn't possibly be anything between them, but she liked him; they were chums.

Now don't you see how difficult it is for me to show him any kindness, even if I wanted to? And I'm sure I don't owe his scoundrel father much consideration, anyway.”

The amba.s.sador had nothing to say. Scotty's chances for redress were very poor. He looked into the fire in deep disappointment. Monteith was not a religious man, but at that moment he remembered vaguely a pa.s.sage from the Bible about the fathers having eaten sour grapes and the children's teeth being set on edge.

But for all his talk, Captain Herbert had not settled the affair to his own satisfaction. He was bl.u.s.tering up and down the room again, trying to work off his Indignation against fate. He paused once more in front of his visitor.

”I tell you what, Archie,” he cried for the fifth time, ”I hate the whole business. It's been grinding at me for nearly fifteen years.

I've got a son of my own about that boy's age. His mother died when he was a baby, and he's everything to me; and when I think that if I had been taken too, he might have fared badly,--well--it's---- Look here, what kind of ability has young Stanwell?”

Monteith gasped. ”He's as bright as a steel trap; all brains.”

”Well,”--the Captain was thoughtful--”what does he want?”

”He wants a chance to earn some money in a hurry so that he can go to college. He's determined to get an education, but the money isn't forthcoming.”