His Neighbor's Son
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TE. i”) “a = er came to the doc ‘ dible answer *« res r. Some 1s vain closed his €y*" saul the chaplain as chere was silence ag end thing more, 54! servant en- HIS NEIG HBOR’S g, ; tered with the Be Dr. Teesdale Be Of aha lay in the center 3. ) ¢ “Take that and the > he “IT want it bummed ,u™ tb. “ That night at the Nee, ‘ ere were « PUSe in sleep. nO High Ma, BY ELEANOR M. INGRAM heavy miding-whip was flung pines the barn with a gesture as violent as the use to which it had just been put; the tall, powerful old man who had held it turned on his heel with a grim finality and certainty of results. | “Think twice next time, advice, in departing. ‘There was no reply. . The boy to whom the caution was ad- dressed, leaned against the frame of the open window, his face averted from the sunny, fragrant interior, and the man who was leaving it, his shoulders heaving ir- regularly with the difficult breathing of one compelling self-control in pain. There was a young dignity investing him that even the circumstances could not lower, ‘he gave curt , but to hold that dignity upright, he needed a moment without speech, an interval for recovery. John Sutherland, standing unnoticed in a doorway opposite to the one by which the old man hid deft, divined that need and deliberately ministered to it, neither speak- ing nor moving to pursue the inquiry that age es him there, one He had never before seen this boy. yet he experienced a clairvoyant sense of By derstanding him, and he studied him with need keenness. “tt was some fifteen or sixteen years of Ee, Sutherland Judged; well, even hand- somely dressed in riding older man had been, ang ot figure. ore Sutherland’s desire tp face intensified with each m waiting, until at last he maae abrupt step forward, “I beg pardon, but T « one’s attention,” he spoke ing a blacksmith.” cag The boy turned at op Sutherland a finely-cut, dar arresting vividness and resolu: still very pale, but his yy eyes met the visitor’s with dir tion. “Oh!” he exclaimed, “You saw—” " “As I came up,” Suther edged. “I could not aveid ‘Hot color flared up in the whit: the boy’s lips compressed, but Bis gaze hardened to arrogant Ij sympathy. | : “You saw me with my? a I eM will show you the way fo 4 2% The words were little, the games were much. ae It was then John Sutheriae deeply and irretrievably Not love as betwee but, nevertheless, love that stands up and cia He continued to 100
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HIS NEIGHBOR’S 5ON. Fil s cod rolling hill succeeding rolling hill, acres of (eS before he spoke, quite Rew a oll a ®. ae that? You do not get f@ place, however poor, to freedom? You take the stand it?” ge of the demand ex- nswering ardor flashed pression, and his swift se I haven’t wanted to flinging back his dark suppose I am afraid to I’m staying here because , and I'll keep right on t? Yes, as long as she vanced a pace and offered ‘the motor-cap from his rdon,” he briefly apolo- show me where I can me patched up, Il] be much me is John Sutherland.” ® the clasp with a firm 1, and I'll be glad to soft green vineyards rising from the rivef-""— shore to the mountain-top. “No one does,” he affirmed, “except my “7755 : father. All you can see between those cliffs, north and south, is his land. It has been Elton’s land since 1728. The thouse,” he- nodded toward the large, somberly hand-— some building central in the sea of leaves, “has stood since the first Gayle Elton came from England. They say that he shot — down his son-in-law on the newly laid ~ threshold. “His daughter had married against his command, and when she brought her young ~ husband home the father killed him. The place is full of legends, not very gentle ones, I am afraid. We are not a gent race.” Toi “ogee “My father peddled fish, and I never heard of my grandfather,” Sutherland ¥ dryly returned. “I am what they call self-made millionaire. Do you think less of me?” Cie aa Gayle glanced at the wide-bi ari
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onsy up rom tS rather hack; it’s walk. “Lan not i get too late the sentence self, ye aving He « checked hims ed ataideed But Sutherls oy — Ss W whic site. oy heen accepted, and WE he er father will not like vour having stayed with me?” he aske e ~ Gayle shrugged _ his shoulders, an winced at the thoughtless movement, morning's row was over my @ absence with- out leave yesterday.” > “Yet you stayed?’ “1 wanted to be with you for a while,” avowed Gayle Elton, his voice low. “It was worth the price, But I will w alk home, thanks.” Sutherland leaned forward. “Gay, I have wanted a son all my man's life,” he stated. “I want you, you are the son I used to dream of having, before my wife died in the first year of our married life. “Come with me and take all IT can give —~it's a good deal, Come now; tell your “mother you are where you will be happier. She will be content to know it; she can’t like to see you handled as you, pe Amazed, the boy stared athim, * “You are asking me?” “Ves, Can you trust Yourself to me?” Wome looked at each other squarely, eves “] Wish se »” Gayle ¢ eet born your son,” said is an ai if tt her, “She doesn’ t ey “eg my Eltons a ered." 4 heavy-handed. and hot IER-SCRAP BOOK, ee ay ii he decision Was recognized it. fat “ am sorry, Gay,” anger. “TI won't Urge “ile, to have vou vet. - a Sal, They stood up to shop. nate well, shake | “nds There are such things » da ters. Half an hea me, Sutherland, Gayle turned forest road and found bj other stranger whom he ras She was such a gir] : seen; fragile, yet glowing wao™ health; most frankly na na . perfection of cultivated daints Her heavy masses of fair b about her face as she bent omc edged spring, but she shook - turn upon Gayle the laughing on candid dark-blue eyes. pe “There is no cup,” she denload child’s graceful freedam. #*}, gone to find one, but I am so He came over toher, “Make a cup of your han “The water runs out,” “Put leaves in, then, how.” . She held the pink cup him to line it with fre laughed together over the friends. st “My name is V inginiss . day,” she informed hi redder from the cool ¥ gemming her brighter yours 2” ) “Gayle Elton, You aret the woods, surely?” “My maid is ‘with: n We will go back to. wanted to take a wal were waiting for it whatever I like to birthday, You ha ec youre. ee
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HIS NEIGHBOR'S SON. 225 ed the path. “You had better call the death of Mrs. Mark Elton, of Elton rr nurse; the cars leave in a few min- Manor, on the Hudson. | Re There are certain decencies of tact among fOur car?” She rose. “We must g0, modern people. Sutherland possessed him- m. I see Justine coming. Good-by, self in patience and waited another full year va before going to the house set among the vine- The started, taken by surprise. yards. But he went then, assured of victory. “Gay? Why do you call me that?” Gayle was riding when they met, and "Isn't it short for Gayle? Doesn’t any swung from his saddle to give greeting to the we call you names for short because they man who descended from his motor-car. te you? Don’t you like me to do it?” “ Are you coming with me now?” asked ‘The innocent question, the thought of the Sutherland, contentedly sure of the reply. fan who that morning had also called him Gayle folded his arms, grave eyes resting _ affected Gayle like the closing of a on the Elton domain spread around and i upon his heart. | below them in flowering luxuriance. No, no one does. Yes, I like you to,” He was a man now, in his twentieth year; hurried incoherently. “Will you shake tall, straight, with an old-world dignity. — inds for good-by, Virginia?” The fine horse nestled his head against * Of course.” his master’s shoulder, confident of meeting She placed her diminutive hand in his, gentleness from him, as they stood together. r warm cyes smiling up at him. “We _ For the first time, Sutherland felt a chill of - nember each other, won’t we? Are doubt, an uncertainty of conquest. : y good at remembering, Gay?” “JT want you badly,” he urged. “You Iam,” said Gayle Elton. don’t know the life I have planned formy * ys. And so was John Sutherland. son Gay.” Bia the year that followed Sutherland “Tt isn’t what you can give that tempts ch of the boy on the Hudson me; it’s you,” Gayle corrected. “I never cared for any one as I do for you. But this — ‘i to evoke Gayle’s slim, upright _ is the place I was born to; what excuse have — 1 daily companion; he made that I got for leaving it? eee t of his life and plan of living. “T am the last Elton, you know. Iil € my father will not forgive me, anc no one to take my place. Such things —of date, you'll say. You are right, but been brought up to think of them and her “Of course, the days when r ipless wrath at the thought handled me roughly are past, man who ruled at pleasure not pretending that he . aetna ant. It seems to me the year he went back. This good reaso d Gayle on the sunny road, ‘ 1 wanty
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THE CAVALIER-SCRAP BOOK. 220 “She told me she 7 r it Wi If I ever marry, } like hers. I saw you _ * day; I have always an 8 : : ‘fferent from any one © se. di shn Sutherland drew a deep breath, as J fter a long journey. a runner takes breath after @ - - “Well, if you marry, bring your wile ee ‘netted, -“2’ll take care home to me,” he invited. ae oten of vou both. I am going now, C / : re j f urging you. And I don there is no use of urging ak [ll wait think I’ll eome back, Gay; I thin for you to come to me, this time. Gayle Elton had fancied himself accus- tomed to loneliness, but the knowledge that John Sutherland had gone not to return left the present and future blank. And that blankness ached. The days that ensued were hard to endure. It was two weeks after Sutherland’s final departure that Gayle, riding down the moun- tain, came upon a girl in white who bent over the old spring, a tiny dog in her arms. She had fair hair— Gayle reined his horse to a standstill, and leaned forward, breathing checked. The girl raised to him candid, virginal dark-blue eyes, set in a young face like a flower. “Oh!” she uttered, arrested. You are the boy!” “You are Virginia!” he said, his voice roughened by tension. “You are Gay Elton. Why, we are both good at remembering !” He felt his heart shake within him; some- thing like the flash of a silver sword fell across his life and severed him from all os except the one where she stood with Se cet and came toward her, care- - J g e€ as one who seeks to close his eg tee bright-plumaged bird of Later they descended th Gayle’s horse stepping besi i. seg together, € him, Virginia’s toy spaniel curled on his | S arm. Everything about her him; her delicat © gown, her ribbon-boy i se rita aro skin, even her pe e tain ? , high-heeled extravagances plaything. Ss, and her dog a mere floss-silk Pon Staying at the villa elderly companion, a M told him. ts. Sands, she bt ae vactred that the lady w Nd Virginia was Virginia § as called Virginia. be a girl with eyes r on the same f you both as 6¢ Oh!” ge hotel with as a rela- ands, and showed fairy-fine to the young ‘girl did neal ae lunched with the two ladia tad h ee er ness was in the spring Dloom, : Day and evening fora ey wooed eighteen with th a ve recklessness of youth © sple On the eighth day Vv . first Gayle rode strajch+ He had not cons a future; he went fiance. _ But _ wanted peace: 4) ginia’s lips consecrated he. enchan” Be him In all his life he never } toward the man who had tyr it, or so near affection for imagined a new era at Elto beautiful by the presence of What took place at that father and son was never told) But two hours later Gayle re ginia, white-faced and ster; tion. “Marry- me now, to simply. ae “Gay?” she faltered, disme by the changeinhim. = He caught her vehemently ir she felt him shaken from he “TI love you! Come to me can take care of you, I will lose each other. I love you, Innocently she clasped her arms his neck and they kissed each other They were married in th before sunset. Mrs. Sand tions and asked no questi passive, - ae. Nor had Gayle time to We carelessness of the guardian Wm the young girl to a man of ee little or nothing... - = 3am Gayle had planned to tas the river ta New York. BU down to the wharf, . it which received them. amazed, But Virginia ran land’s arms with a glad *
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MR. MARX'S SECRET. Ss s r sly. “She didn’t know, Gay,” he signified. ce ae ee just sent her up here and told her to use her governess’s name to escape the society reporters who are always following people — around. I thought I could trust things to there was no need to age work out right, and they have. Shall we ‘oh a mpaign or Virginia’s unconscious go below? Your rooms have been ready 4 re in it. these three years.” “se nen n he did speak, the note in his voice He held out his hand, and ee Elton ee ote not of et but of proprietorship. laid his in it. : R. MARX’S SECRET © BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS LE MORTON, a child of eight, walking with his mother, comes unexpectedly upo rdered body of his father. The crime takes place in the wood leading to Ravenor e Sahn Francis, who disappears, is accused of the crime. Mr. Ravenor, the ow: ers a large reward for the murderer’s capture, Later Mr. Ravenor calls on agrees to educate the boy, Philip Morton. Mrs. Morton accepts his o avenor out of the house and on returning finds his mother in ton meets Mr. Marx in the castle. Ag he returns he soon runs upon Mr. Marx, who offers no ¢: I ér greatly troubled. ny Morton and Mr. Marx are attack is aang to a _monastery in t let: inti;