IN WHICH IS RELATED A CONVERSATION WITH MY MOTHER
Mother was better in the morning. I ascertained that fact from James,
the butler. Marie, the Frenchwoman, seemed desirous of telling me
nothing and--I thought--wished to keep me out of my mother's room.
But I hung about the house all the morning and, after the doctor had
come and gone (and this time, I was glad to see, with a more cheerful
face) I insisted on pushing into the room and speaking to mother myself.
Marie tossed her head and shrugged her shoulders when I insisted. "La,
la!" she exclaimed, in her French way, "boys are so troublesome. Yes!"
Had it been any other servant, I should have said something sharp to
her, in my newly acquired confidence. But she was mother's maid, and it
was no business of mine if she was impertinent.
"Well, mother," I said, sitting down beside the bed and taking the hand
she put out to me, "I hope you are better--the doctor says you are--and
I hope you will forgive me for my part in the disgraceful scene we had
down stairs last night. But I couldn't stand those Downeses any more and
that's a fact!"
"Oh, Clinton! My dear boy! you are so impulsive and tempestuous," she
murmured.
"I'll try to be as meek as Moses--a regular pussy cat around the house,
hereafter," I returned, cheerfully.
"You are just like your father," she sighed.
"I'm proud to hear you say it," I returned, promptly. "For all I have
ever heard about my father--save the hints that those two scoundrels
have dropped--makes me believe that father was a man worthy of copying
in every particular."
Mother squeezed my hand convulsively, exclaiming:
"Clinton! Clinton! You must not say such things."
"Pray tell me why not, mother?" I demanded, but I spoke quietly. "I
won't say a word about Mr. Chester Downes and Paul, if it hurts your
feelings for me to tell the truth about them. But I am bound to be
angry if anybody maligns my father's memory."
"Oh, Chester would never do such a thing," mother gasped.
"Then, where did Paul pick up that old scandal to throw at me?" I
demanded.
"What old scandal do you mean, Clinton?" she asked, faintly.
"Are you sure you wish to talk about it now, mother?" I asked, for I was
troubled by what the doctor had said the night before.
"Better now than at any other time," she said, with some decision. "I
suppose poor Paul heard some of the servants, or other people like that,
repeating the story. Oh, Clinton! it almost broke my heart at the time.
That anybody should think your father would contemplate taking his own
life--it was awful. Of course, you do not remember."
"Well--hardly!" I exclaimed. But I was troubled again by the manner in
which she spoke of Paul Downes. Hanged if she wasn't excusing my cousin!
"It was a very wretched time for me," said my mother, weakly. "I really
do not know what I would have done had it not been for Chester. He came
immediately, and he took charge of everything. I can never forget his
kindness."
A sudden thought struck me, and I could not help putting the suspicion
to the test. "Mother," I asked, "was father and Mr. Chester Downes very
good friends?"
She looked startled again for an instant. I saw her smooth cheek flush
and then turn pale again. My mother blushed as easily as any girl of
fifteen.
"Why, Clinton, that is a strange question," she said.
"Not very strange, mother, when you consider that I believe my father
was a mighty good pattern for his son to copy. If father trusted Mr.
Chester Downes, I could be almost tempted to believe that I had injured
that gentleman in my thoughts."
"You have, Clinton! you have!" she cried.
"I don't doubt you believe so mother," I said, quietly. "But how about
father? What was _his_ opinion of Aunt Alice's husband?"
"Why--you see, Clinton," she returned slowly and doubtfully, "Doctor
Webb was not very well acquainted with Chester."
"No?"
"He never came much to our house while the doctor was alive."
"And why not?" I asked.
"That--that would be hard to say," she said; but she was so confused
that I felt that my mother, who was the soul of truth, found it hard to
answer my question honestly.
"Well, I should have been glad of my father's opinion, at least," I
said. "As it is," I added, "not having that to guide me, I must stick to
my own."
"But you have mine, Clinton!" she cried.
"Indeed, I have!" I returned, smiling, "and I'd take it upon almost any
other subject you could name, Mumsie! But you are prejudiced in favor of
Mr. Downes."
"And you are prejudiced against him."
"I am, indeed," I admitted. "And am so prejudiced that I do not mean he
shall ever interfere in my affairs again."
"Oh, Clinton!" she cried, "I do not see how you can speak so to me."
"Now, mother dear," I said, "I do not mean to be unfilial to you, or
ungrateful for your kindness. But Paul Downes tried to stab me last
night----"
"Oh!" she cried, and shrank and trembled.
"I hate to annoy you by bringing up such things, but I must show you
that they cannot hang around here any more," I declared, firmly. "Paul
hates me; his father has done his best to poison your mind against me. I
have been in danger of my life, and in danger of losing your love and
trust, through the Downeses----"
"No, no!" she said, to this last.
"I am afraid I am right," I said. "I know that I have kept away from the
house a good deal this summer. I couldn't stay here and listen to that
false man and be annoyed by that great, hulking boy of his. Now, let us
be the good friends we always have been when the Downeses are at a
distance."
"Oh, Clinton! my dear boy! I only live for you!" she cried, and began to
sob so that I felt condemned to insist. But the occasion was serious. I
knew--as Ham had warned me--that Chester Downes was lingering near and
would soon attempt to see my mother again.
"Then, let us be more to each other, mother," I said, quietly.
"But I need your uncle to assist me," she said. "He can manage my
business much better than I possibly can----"
"What's the matter with Mr. Hounsditch?" I demanded. "He was our lawyer
and had been grandfather's lawyer, too."
"Mr. Hounsditch is an old man. He is behind the times. He cannot invest
our money to such good advantage----"
"_Who says so?_" I asked, and she could not answer the pointed question
without admitting what I had supposed--that Mr. Chester Downes put these
opinions of the keen old lawyer into mother's head.
"I don't care much about the money, mother," I said. "I suppose we have
plenty anyway, and the real estate cannot be sold at all till I am of
age. But what property does come to me when I'm twenty-one, I'd rather
not have Mr. Chester Downes handle. I'd rather trust to Mr. Hounsditch
and accept small interest."
"Clinton! you are really ridiculous," cried mother, reddening again.
"Well, that's all right," I returned, laughing. "But you'll hear to me,
mother, won't you? You won't bother about Chester Downes and Paul? Put
it down that I am jealous of the influence they have over you, if you
like. I don't care. Just let's you and I live together and be happy."
"That's all I live for--to make you happy, Clinton," said my mother,
still sobbing like a child who has been injured.
"Then this request I make will be the only thing I'll ask you to do for
me for a year, Mumsie!" I cried, calling her by the pet name I had used
when I was a little fellow.
"Will it really make you so happy, my boy?" she asked, wistfully.
"Indeed it will," I declared. "And now I've bothered you long enough.
I'll be around here if you want me. I shan't go out on the water today,
or until you feel quite yourself again."
I went out of her room. Marie, the Frenchwoman, was just coming up the
stairs. I saw her hide her hand with something in it under her apron. It
was a square white object. I knew it was a letter. Mr. Chester Downes
had been writing to my mother, and Marie was the go-between. She smiled,
slyly, as she passed me and whisked into the room I had just left.