Part 21 (1/2)
”To the contrary; I am breaking his spirit,” says my lord.
Every morning for hard upon a week my lord took his same place upon the bench. It was a pleasant place, under the green acacias, with a sight upon the bay and s.h.i.+pping, and a sound (from some way off) of marines singing at their employ. Here the two sate without speech or any external movement, beyond that of the needle or the Master biting off a thread, for he still clung to his pretence of industry; and here I made a point to join them, wondering at myself and my companions. If any of my lord's friends went by, he would hail them cheerfully, and cry out he was there to give some good advice to his brother, who was now (to his delight) grown quite industrious. And even this the Master accepted with a steady countenance; what was in his mind, G.o.d knows, or perhaps Satan only.
All of a sudden, on a still day of what they call the Indian Summer, when the woods were changed into gold and pink and scarlet, the Master laid down his needle and burst into a fit of merriment. I think he must have been preparing it a long while in silence, for the note in itself was pretty naturally pitched; but breaking suddenly from so extreme a silence, and in circ.u.mstances so averse from mirth, it sounded ominously on my ear.
”Henry,” said he, ”I have for once made a false step, and for once you have had the wit to profit by it. The farce of the cobbler ends to-day; and I confess to you (with my compliments) that you have had the best of it. Blood will out; and you have certainly a choice idea of how to make yourself unpleasant.”
Never a word said my lord; it was just as though the Master had not broken silence.
”Come,” resumed the Master, ”do not be sulky; it will spoil your att.i.tude. You can now afford (believe me) to be a little gracious; for I have not merely a defeat to accept. I had meant to continue this performance till I had gathered enough money for a certain purpose; I confess ingenuously, I have not the courage. You naturally desire my absence from this town; I have come round by another way to the same idea. And I have a proposition to make; or, if your lords.h.i.+p prefers, a favour to ask.”
”Ask it,” says my lord.
”You may have heard that I had once in this country a considerable treasure,” returned the Master; ”it matters not whether or no-such is the fact; and I was obliged to bury it in a spot of which I have sufficient indications. To the recovery of this, has my ambition now come down; and, as it is my own, you will not grudge it me.”
”Go and get it,” says my lord. ”I make no opposition.”
”Yes,” said the Master; ”but to do so, I must find men and carriage. The way is long and rough, and the country infested with wild Indians. Advance me only so much as shall be needful: either as a lump sum, in lieu of my allowance; or, if you prefer it, as a loan, which I shall repay on my return. And then, if you so decide, you may have seen the last of me.”
My lord stared him steadily in the eyes; there was a hard smile upon his face, but he uttered nothing.
”Henry,” said the Master, with a formidable quietness, and drawing at the same time somewhat back-”Henry, I had the honour to address you.”
”Let us be stepping homeward,” says my lord to me, who was plucking at his sleeve; and with that he rose, stretched himself, settled his hat, and still without a syllable of response, began to walk steadily along the sh.o.r.e.
I hesitated awhile between the two brothers, so serious a climax did we seem to have reached. But the Master had resumed his occupation, his eyes lowered, his hand seemingly as deft as ever; and I decided to pursue my lord.
”Are you mad?” I cried, so soon as I had overtook him. ”Would you cast away so fair an opportunity?”
”Is it possible you should still believe in him?” inquired my lord, almost with a sneer.
”I wish him forth of this town!” I cried. ”I wish him anywhere and anyhow but as he is.”
”I have said my say,” returned my lord, ”and you have said yours. There let it rest.”
But I was bent on dislodging the Master. That sight of him patiently returning to his needlework was more than my imagination could digest. There was never a man made, and the Master the least of any, that could accept so long a series of insults. The air smelt blood to me. And I vowed there should be no neglect of mine if, through any c.h.i.n.k of possibility, crime could be yet turned aside. That same day, therefore, I came to my lord in his business room, where he sat upon some trivial occupation.
”My lord,” said I, ”I have found a suitable investment for my small economies. But these are unhappily in Scotland; it will take some time to lift them, and the affair presses. Could your lords.h.i.+p see his way to advance me the amount against my note?”
He read me awhile with keen eyes. ”I have never inquired into the state of your affairs, Mackellar,” says he. ”Beyond the amount of your caution, you may not be worth a farthing, for what I know.”
”I have been a long while in your service, and never told a lie, nor yet asked a favour for myself,” said I, ”until to-day.”
”A favour for the Master,” he returned, quietly. ”Do you take me for a fool, Mackellar? Understand it once and for all, I treat this beast in my own way; fear nor favour shall not move me; and before I am hoodwinked, it will require a trickster less transparent than yourself. I ask service, loyal service; not that you should make and mar behind my back, and steal my own money to defeat me.”
”My lord,” said I, ”these are very unpardonable expressions.”
”Think once more, Mackellar,” he replied; ”and you will see they fit the fact. It is your own subterfuge that is unpardonable. Deny (if you can) that you designed this money to evade my orders with, and I will ask your pardon freely. If you cannot, you must have the resolution to hear your conduct go by its own name.”