Mr. Wiggins proceeded to give the Colonel the desired information.
* * * * *
While this one-sided conversation was taking place, Henry Van Ostend was
standing on the terrace at Champ-au-Haut, discussing with Father Honore
and Octavius Buzzby the best method of investing the increasing revenues
of the large estate, vacant, except for its faithful factotum and the
care-takers, Ann and Hannah, during the seven years that have passed
since Mrs. Champney's death.
"Mr. Googe had undoubtedly a perfect right to dispute this will, Father
Honore," he was saying.
"But he would never have done it; I know such a thing could never have
occurred to him."
"That does not alter the facts of this rather peculiar case. Mr. Buzzby
knows that, up to this date, my daughter and I have never availed
ourselves of any rights in this estate; and he has managed it so wisely
alone, during these last seven years, that now he no longer wishes to be
responsible for the investment of its constantly increasing revenues. I
shall never consider this estate mine--will or no will." He spoke
emphatically. "Law is one thing, but a right attitude, where property is
concerned, towards one's neighbor is quite another."
He looked to right and left of the terrace, and included in his glance
many acres of the noble estate. Father Honore, watching him, suddenly
recalled that evening in the financier's own house when the Law was
quoted as "fundamental"--and he smiled to himself.
Mr. Van Ostend faced the two men.
"Do you think it would do any good for me to approach him on the subject
of setting apart that portion of the personal estate, and its increase
in the last seven years, which Mrs. Champney inherited from her father,
Mr. Googe's grandfather, for his children--that is if he won't take it
himself?"
"No."
The two men spoke as one; the negative was strongly emphatic.
"Mr. Van Ostend," Octavius Buzzby spoke with suppressed excitement, "if
I may make bold, who has lived here on this place and known its owners
for forty years, to give you a piece of advice, I'd like to give it."
"I want all I can get, Mr. Buzzby; it will help me to see my way in this
matter."
"Then I'm going to ask you to let bygones be bygones, and not say one
word to Mr. Googe about this property. He begun seven years ago in the
sheds and has worked his way up to foreman this last year, and if you
was to propose to him what you have to us, it would rake up the past,
sir--a past that's now in its grave, thank God! Champney--I ask your
pardon--Mr. Googe wouldn't touch a penny of it more 'n he'd touch
carrion. I _know_ this; nor he wouldn't have his boy touch it either. I
ain't saying he don't appreciate the good money does, for he's told me
so; but for himself--well, sir, I think you know what I mean: he's
through with what is just money. He's a man, is Champney Googe, and he's
living his life in a way that makes the almighty dollar look pretty
small in comparison with it--Father Honore, you know this as well as I
do."
The priest nodded gravely in the affirmative.
"Tell me something of his life, Father Honore," said Mr. Van Ostend;
"you know the degree of respect I have always had for him ever since he
took his punishment like a man--and you and I were both on the wrong
track," he added with a meaning smile.
"I don't quite know what to say," replied his friend. "It isn't anything
I can point to and say he has done this or that, because he gets beneath
the surface, as you might say, and works there. But I do know that where
there is an element of strife among the men, there you will find him as
peacemaker--he has a wonderful way with them, but it is indefinable. We
don't know all he does, for he never speaks of it, only every once in a
while something leaks out. I know that where there is a sickbed and a
quarryman on it, there you will find Champney Googe as watcher after his
day's work--and tender in his ministrations as a woman. I know that when
sickness continues and the family are dependent on the fund, Champney
Googe works many a night overtime and gives his extra pay to help out. I
know, too, that when a strike threatens, he, who is now in the union
because he is convinced he can help best there, is the balance-wheel,
and prevents radical unreason and its results. There's trouble brewing
there now--about the automatic bush hammer--"
"I have heard of it."
"--And Jim McCann is proving intractable. Mr. Googe is at work with him,
and hopes to bring him round to a just point of view. And I know,
moreover, that when there is a crime committed and a criminal to be
dealt with, that criminal finds in the new foreman of Shed Number Two a
friend who, without condoning the crime, stands by him as a human being.
I know that out of his own deep experience he is able to reach out to
other men in need, as few can. In all this his wife is his helpmate, his
mother his inspiration.--What more can I say?"
"Nothing," said Henry Van Ostend gravely. "He has two children I hear--a
boy and a girl. I should like to see her who was the little Aileen of
twenty years ago."
"I hope you may," said Father Honore cordially; "yes, he has two lovely
children, Honore, now in his first knickerbockers, is my namesake--"
Octavius interrupted him, smiling significantly:
"He's something more than Father Honore's namesake, Mr. Van Ostend, he's
his shadow when he is with him. The men have a little joke among
themselves whenever they see the two together, and that's pretty often;
they say Father Honore's shadow will never grow less till little Honore
reaches his full growth."
The priest smiled. "He and I are very, very close friends," was all he
permitted himself to say, but the other men read far more than that into
his words.
Henry Van Ostend looked thoughtful. He considered with himself for a few
minutes; then he spoke, weighing his words:
"I thank you both; I have solved my difficulty with your help. You have
spoken frankly to me, and shown me this matter in a different light; I
may speak as frankly to you, as to Mr. Googe's closest friends. The
truth is, neither my daughter nor myself can appropriate this money to
ourselves--we both feel that it does not belong to us, _in the
circumstances_. I should like you both to tell Mr. Googe for me, that
out of the funds accruing to the estate from his grandfather's money, I
will take for my share the hundred thousand dollars I repaid to the
Quarries Company thirteen years ago--you know what I mean--and the
interest on the same for those six years. Mr. Googe will understand that
this is done in settlement of a mere business account--and he will
understand it as between man and man. I think it will satisfy him.
"I have determined since talking with you, although the scheme has been
long in my mind and I have spoken to Mr. Emlie about it, to apply the
remainder of the estate for the benefit of the quarrymen, the
stone-cutters, their families and, incidentally, the city of Flamsted.
My plans are, of course, indefinite; I cannot give them in detail, not
having had time to think them out; but I may say that this house will be
eventually a home for men disabled in the quarries or sheds. The plan
will develop further in the executing of it. You, Father Honore, you and
Mr. Buzzby, Mr. Googe, and Mr. Emlie will be constituted a Board of
Overseers--I know that in your hands the work will be advanced, and, I
hope, prospered to the benefit of this generation and succeeding ones."
Octavius Buzzby grasped his hand.
"Mr. Van Ostend, I wish old Judge Champney was living to hear this! He'd
approve, Mr. Van Ostend, he'd approve of it all--and Mr. Louis too."
"Thank you, Mr. Buzzby, for these words; they do me good. And now," he
said, turning to Father Honore, "I want very much to see Mr. Googe--now
that this business is settled. I have wanted to see him many times
during these last six years, but I felt--I feared he might consider my
visiting him an intrusion--"
"Not at all--not at all; this simply shows me that you don't as yet know
the real Mr. Googe. He will be glad to see you at any time."
"I think I'd like to see him in the shed."
"No reason in the world why you shouldn't; he is one of the most
accessible men at all times and seasons."
"Supposing, then, you ride up with me in the automobile?"
"Certainly I will; shall we go up this forenoon?"
"Yes, I should like to go now. Mr. Buzzby, I shall be back this
afternoon for a talk with you. I want to make some definite arrangement
for Ann and Hannah."
"I'll be here."
The two walked together to the driveway, and shortly the mellow note of
the great Panhard's horn sounded, as the automobile rounded the curve of
The Bow and sped away to the north shore highway and the sheds.
* * * * *
Late that afternoon Aileen, with her baby daughter, Aurora, in her arms,
was standing on the porch watching for her husband's return. The usual
hour for his home-coming had long passed. She began to fear that the
threatened trouble in the sheds, on account of the attempted
introduction of the automatic bush hammer, might have come to a crisis.
At last, however, she saw him leave the car and cross the bridge over
the Rothel. His step was quick and firm. She waved her hand to him; a
swing of his cap answered her. Then little Aurora's tiny fist was
manipulated by her mother to produce a baby form of welcome.
Champney sprang up the steps two at a time, and for a moment the little
wife and baby Aurora disappeared in his arms.
"Oh, Champney, I'm so thankful you've come! I knew just by the way you
came over the bridge that things were going better at the sheds. You are
so late I began to get worried. Come, supper's waiting."
"Wait a minute, Aileen--Mother--" he called through the hall, "come here
a minute, please."
Aurora Googe came quickly at that ever welcome call. Her face was even
more beautiful than formerly, for great joy and peace irradiated every
feature.
"Where's Honore?" he said abruptly, looking about for his boy who was
generally the first to run as far as the bridge to greet him. His wife
answered.
"He and Billy went with Father Honore as far as the power-house; he'll
be back soon with Billy. Sister Ste. Croix went by a few minutes ago,
and I told her to hurry them home.--What's the good news, Champney? Tell
me quick--I can't wait to hear it."
Champney smiled down at the eager face looking up to him; her chin was
resting on her baby's head.
"Mr. Van Ostend has been in the sheds to-day--and I've had a long talk
with him."
"Oh, Champney!"
Both women exclaimed at the same time, and their faces reflected the joy
that shone in the eyes of the man they loved with a love bordering on
worship.
Champney nodded. "Yes, and so satisfactory--" he drew a long breath; "I
have so much to tell it will take half the evening. He wishes to 'pay
his respects,' so he says, to my wife and mother, if convenient for the
ladies to-morrow--how is it?" He looked with a smile first into the gray
eyes and then into the dark ones. In the latter he read silent pleased
consent; but Aileen's danced for joy as she answered:
"Convenient! So convenient, that he'll get the surprise of his life from
me, anyhow; he really must be made to realize that I am his debtor for
the rest of my days--don't I owe the 'one man on earth for me' to him?
for would I have ever seen Flamsted but for him? And have I ever
forgotten the roses he dropped into the skirt of my dress twenty-one
years ago this very month when I sang the Sunday night song for him at
the Vaudeville? Twenty-one years! Goodness, but it makes me feel old,
mother!"
Aurora Googe smiled indulgently on her daughter, for, at times, Aileen,
not only in ways, but looks, was still like the child of twelve.
Champney grew suddenly grave.
"Do you realize, Aileen, that this meeting to-day in the shed is the
first in which we three, Father Honore, Mr. Van Ostend, and I, have ever
been together under one roof since that night twenty-one years ago when
I first saw you?"
"Why, that doesn't seem possible--but it _is_ so, isn't it? Wasn't that
strange!"
"Yes, and no," said Champney, looking at his mother. "I thought of our
first meeting one another at the Vaudeville, as we three stood there
together in the shed looking upwards to The Gore; and Father Honore told
me afterward that he was thinking of that same thing. We both wondered
if Mr. Van Ostend recalled that evening, and the fact of our first
acquaintance, although unknown to one another."
"I wonder--" said Aileen, musingly.
Champney spoke abruptly again; there was a note of uneasiness in his
voice:
"I wonder what keeps Honore--I'll just run up the road and see if he's
coming. If he isn't, I will go on till I meet the boys. I wish," he
added wistfully, "that McCann felt as kindly to me as Billy does to my
son; I am beginning to think that old grudge of his against me will
never yield, not even to time;--I'll be back in a few minutes."
Aileen watched him out of sight; then she turned to Aurora Googe.
"We are blest in this turn of affairs, aren't we, mother? This meeting
is the one thing Champney has been dreading--and yet longing for. I'm
glad it's over."
"So am I; and I am inclined to think Father Honore brought it about; if
you remember, he said nothing about Mr. Van Ostend's being here when he
stopped just now."
"So he didn't!" Aileen spoke in some surprise; then she added with a
joyous laugh: "Oh, that dear man is sly--bless him!"--But the tears
dimmed her eyes.