The last quarter of an hour, packed with tragic revelation, lost Mr.
Carter the stage.
"I hope you will put up at the Rectory, sir," Dr. Lavendar said, as
they drove away from Robert Gray's door.
"I thank you, sir," said Mr. Carter.
Then they fell into silence--Mr. Carter from politeness, Dr. Lavendar
from horror. He was going back in his memory with painful effort; but
it was all very vague.... He had hardly known her; she had been ill
for those months that she had been in Old Chester, and she had made it
very clear that she did not care to see people. He thought of her
beautiful, sullen face; of Robert Gray's passionate devotion; of Old
Chester's silent disapproval.... He groaned to himself, and John
Carter looked at him sidewise.
After supper at the Rectory, they sat down to smoke in heavy silence;
Mr. Carter respected the old man's distress, but wondered if he should
not have been more comfortable with Van Horn at the Tavern. The
glowing July day had darkened into rainy night, with a grumble of
thunder back among the hills; but in the midst of a sudden downpour
they heard footsteps on the path, and then some one pushed open the
hall door, and flapped a wet umbrella on the steps before entering. A
minute later Luther Metcalf stood, hesitating, on the study threshold.
"Dr. Lavendar--"
The old man got up hurriedly. "Yes, Lute. Come into the dining-room.
You will excuse me, sir?" he said to Mr. Carter. He put his hand on
Lute's arm, in a friendly grip, for there was a break in the boy's
voice.
"I know about it," Lute said. They sat down at the dining-room table;
Lute swallowed hard, and pulled with trembling fingers at his hatband;
he did not lift his eyes. "And--and I want you to tell her not to take
it."
"How is she, Lute?"
"I haven't seen her. She wouldn't come down-stairs. She sent me a
little note," Luther said, taking it out of his breast-pocket, and then
putting it back again tenderly. "'Course I won't pay any attention to
it."
"Saying she'd release you, I suppose?"
"Yes; but that's nothing. I'll make her understand the minute I see
her. But, Dr. Lavendar, I don't want that--that money!" the boy ended,
almost with a sob. "I want you to tell her not to take it."
Dr. Lavendar was silent.
"At first I thought--I couldn't help thinking--we could get married
right off. We could get married and have a home of our own; you know,
we'd be rich people with all that money. And I suppose, honestly, that
as things are now, there's no chance of our getting married for a good
while. But I--I tell you what, sir. I'd rather never get married
than--than touch that money!"
Dr. Lavendar nodded.
"You won't let her, sir? You'll make her give it back?"
"My dear boy, I can't 'make' Alice do anything. The money is hers."
"Oh, but Dr. Lavendar, won't you go and talk to her? It may be a
temptation to her, just as it was to me, for a minute. We could just
make the office hum, sir. We could put it right on its feet; we could
have a real Daily. I know she'll think of that. _I_ just thought we
could get married. But Alice will think about helping the office, and
me."
"Of course the money would bring ease to her father--" Dr. Lavendar
stopped abruptly.
"Oh, my _God_!" Lute said, and dropped his head on his arms.
"Bring ease to--to the family," Dr. Lavendar ended lamely.
"You know Mr. Gray won't touch it," Lute burst out; "and I can't let
Alice, either. Dr. Lavendar, I thought maybe you'd let me hitch
Goliath up and drive you out to the house?"
"Not to-night, Lute. Alice has got to be alone. Poor child, poor
child! Yes; we've all of us got to meet the devil alone. Temptation
is a lonely business, Lute. To-morrow I'll go, of course. Did you
answer her note?"
"Oh yes; right off. I just said, 'Don't be foolish,' and--and some
other things. I didn't tell her we mustn't take the money, because I
hadn't thought of it then. Mrs. Gray said she wouldn't come out of her
room. Oh, just think of her, all by herself!" Luther bent over and
fumbled with his shoelace; when he looked up, Dr. Lavendar pretended
not to see his eyes.
When the boy went away, Dr. Lavendar went back to the study and asked
John Carter some legal questions: Suppose he had not found this child,
what would have become of the money? Suppose the child should now
decline to take it, what then?
"Well," said Mr. Carter, smiling, "as a remote contingency, I suppose I
might reply that it would revert to the residuary estate. But did you
ever know anybody decline L5000, Dr. Lavendar?"
"Never knew anybody who had the chance," Dr. Lavendar said; "but
there's no telling what human critters will do."
"They won't do that," said John Carter.
What a long night it was, of rain and wind and dreadful thought! ...
Rebecca had told Alice, with kindness, but with such a grip upon
herself lest exultation should tremble in her voice, that she seemed
harsher than ever. Then she told Lute. He pleaded that Alice would
speak to him, and Mrs. Gray had gone to the girl's room and bidden her
come down-stairs.
"Come, Alice. You must control yourself. Come down and talk to
Luther."