Part 32 (1/2)
”You are kind, and I wish you would call again. I expected you would be in the army. As I remember, you were a l.u.s.ty young rebel when I knew you.”
”I served with Colonel Morgan's Rangers at the capture of Burgoyne.”
It must be admitted there was a touch of malice in these words and the tone in which the lad spoke them.
”So I'm still further indebted to you. Well, as you are responsible for my being here, I hope you will feel under obligations to call again when I am better able to entertain company. By the way, did you ever know a man by the name of David Cameron? Why I ask is because you resemble a man by that name, whom I once knew.”
”That was my father's name,” replied Rodney, and the next instant he could have bitten his tongue. He quickly added: ”My father, after coming to this country, had good reasons for taking the name of his mother's people, the Allisons, not that he had any occasion to be ashamed of the name of Cameron. Now that he is dead we shall retain the name of Allison.”
”As I remember your father, he had no occasion to be ashamed of anything, except, possibly, some of his acquaintances. So David is dead.”
”My father was a man who kept good company to the day of his death.”
”He was a very kind-hearted man, and such cannot always keep what you term 'good company.' May I ask you to send here some worthy lawyer or trustworthy justice of the peace? I have some transactions which I wish to discuss with such a person. You, being the son of your father, I know will do that for me.”
”Where and when did you know my father?”
”More than twenty years ago in London. When did he die, Rodney?”
”He was killed at the battle of Point Pleasant at the time we were out in the Ohio country.”
”Four years ago. Do you come often to the camp?”
”Frequently.”
”Will it be asking too much for you to look in on me, as they say?”
”I will do as you wish.”
As Rodney rode away he thought much upon the strange man he had left.
Evidently he was one whom his father had befriended. And the rascal had tried to rob his benefactor's son. Probably, what with the illness and all, the fellow's conscience twinged a little. Anyhow, he should have the lawyer though it were better he should have the clergyman, thought the lad.
That night Rodney found it difficult to put thoughts of the sick man out of his mind and, when a few days later he again had occasion to visit the camp, he took along with him some delicacies which he thought might tempt the patient's appet.i.te.
”So you didn't forget me. What's this? Something besides camp fare?
Oh, yes, you are David Cameron's son, but you've got a life work ahead if you live up to his standard.”
”I believe you, sir.”
”Would you be willing to send this letter? I suppose it will reach Philadelphia in a few days. By the way, did your father come to Charlottesville from London?”
”No. He lived nearly eighteen years down in Prince William County. He was employed there much of the time by Squire Danesford.”
”Danesford! Did he have a daughter about your own age?”
”Yes. Lisbeth. She was in Philadelphia the last I knew of her. I heard the other day that the state had seized their estate. Danesford is a bitter Tory, you know.”
”Danesford died a poor man in London last April. His daughter, I understand, died about three months later. At least the person to whom that letter is addressed wrote me she couldn't live.”
”Are--are you sure? I didn't even know she was sick.”