LE AND HIS "UNCLE"
"Come into the library with me, my dear boy, I want to have a private talk
with you," said Mr. Force, some hours later in the afternoon, as he led
the way into his little sanctum in the rear of the hall.
The guests had all left the house. Miss Sibby had ridden off on her mule;
the young doctor had ambled away on his cob, and Roland had set out to
walk to Forest Rest.
But when we say the guests had all gone, we except, of course, the
permanent visitor, the lively lady from California. She was still in the
house, and likely to continue there.
"Le, my dear boy," said Mr. Force, as soon as the two were seated in the
library, "I want you to give me your word of honor that you will never
send a challenge, or accept a challenge, to fight a duel as long as you
live."
"Uncle Abel, I give you my word of honor, with all my heart and soul in
it, that I never will," earnestly and solemnly replied the young man.
"Thank you, my boy, thank you! Give me your hand on it! There, you are my
own dear lad again!"
"Uncle Abel, you must think very badly of me for my madness and folly."
"No, I do not, Le. No, I do not, dear lad. I know that your wrongs and
your temptations were almost more than the spirit of man could bear,
especially the spirit of a young man; and I thank the Heavenly Father that
you have been saved from sin and delivered from danger!" gravely replied
Abel Force, reverently bowing his head.
"Uncle, I wish to make a full confession to you now--to open my soul to
you, as if you were my father--as, in reality, you always have been in
care and affection."
"Go on, dear lad. You can say nothing, I am sure, that I shall not be glad
to hear."
"Well, then, Uncle Abel, I must tell you that after I had sent that
challenge to Col. Anglesea I went home to Greenbushes and passed the most
miserable night I ever spent in my whole life."
"I do not doubt it, lad."
"Heaven knows that it was not from cowardice----"
"Who ever accused, or dreamed of accusing, any Force of cowardice? We have
no experimental knowledge of the meaning of that word," said Abel Force.
"No, we have not. It was not the thought of death, then, for I could meet
death or deal death in the cause of duty. No; it was the foreshadowing of
a great remorse. It began with the feeling that I could not, dared not,
pray last night."
"Dear lad! But you can pray to-night, Le?"
"Yes; I can pray and give thanks to-night."
"And now you are my own dear son again, Le."
"Oh, Uncle Abel, if I might, indeed, be your son again! If I might be
reinstated in the position, the happiness, I once enjoyed in my relations,
present and prospective, with you and your family!"
"What do you mean, my dear Le? And yet I need not ask you, for I know."
"Odalite!" breathed the youth, in low, yet thrilling, tones.
"Ah, would to Heaven, my boy, that none had ever come between you!" sighed
Abel Force.
"But the intruder has gone now, and left no trace behind."
"Ah, would to Heaven he had left no trace behind! But a heart like
Odalite's does not easily recover from such a shock as she has
sustained."
"I know. And yet I think she is already recovering. Pride, duty, honor,
all will help her to recover. And of this I wish to speak to you, dear
sir."
"Le, you have the most forgiving soul I ever met! Why should you take any
further interest in your unhappy cousin?"
"Because I love her. And it is on this subject that I wish to speak to
you. I am under sailing orders for the Pacific Coast, and----"
"Le! you under sailing orders? Why, I thought you were going to resign
from the navy?"
"I should have resigned, if I could have married Odalite; but, as I could
not, I did not."
"But, even so, I thought you were now entitled to three years home
service?"
"So I was, but I could not rest after I thought I had lost Odalite, and so
I applied for sailing orders on the week before Odalite was to have been
married. I received them one hour ago. They came on the evening mail. If I
had happened to be at Greenbushes, I should not have got the letter so
soon, for, you know, my mail was always sent with yours, and I have never
changed the address."
"And when do you go, Le?"
"I must join my ship at New York on the fourth of January. I must leave
here on the second."
"The day after New Year's Day. That is very sudden."
"Yes; and I do regret it. If I had known--if I could have foreseen
events--I should have carried out my first intentions, and resigned from
the service, instead of applying for sailing orders; but now that I have
applied, and have received them, I must go, much as I regret to do so. I
must not seem to trifle with the department or shirk my duty."
"Certainly not, lad. And, under present circumstances, perhaps it is best
that you go. You and Odalite are young, lad, and can well afford to wait a
little longer. When you return from your voyage, Le, the disgraceful drama
which has been enacted by this man Anglesea will have been forgotten.
Odalite will have long recovered the shock to her spirit, and will be in a
better condition to listen to a proposal from you, which it would be
indiscreet, to say the least, for you to make her at present."
"I see that, sir; I feel it; and that reconciles me to the idea of going
to sea again. The utmost favor I plead for now is that you will permit me
to see Odalite, to have a private interview with her. I shall not wound
her by hinting at the hope hidden in the bottom of my heart--the hope of
winning her hand some day; but I wish to ask her to correspond with me
during my absence, as with a trusted relation or a true brother. Do you
think, sir, that there can be any objection to my making such a request of
my cousin?"
"None whatever, my dear boy. You have my fullest approval of your course,
and my warmest wishes for your success."
"Thank you, Uncle Abel."
"And we will yet hope that the dream of your love and of my ambition may
be fulfilled in the union of yourself and Odalite in a happy marriage, and
the consolidation of Mondreer and Greenbushes in one great manor."
"May Heaven grant it, Uncle Abel!"
"But, my boy, I wish you to speak to Odalite's mother also on this
subject. She must be taken into our counsels."
"Oh, most certainly. I shall speak to Aunt Elfrida. But I wish to see
Odalite first of all. I have not seen her since I saw her at the altar of
All Faith Church on that broken wedding day. Why does she seclude herself
so strictly? She is not indisposed. Aunt Elfrida told me she was better
and brighter than she had been for many weeks. Why, then, does she keep
her room?" inquired Le.
"I think, my dear lad, that she is indisposed, in one sense, at
least--very much indisposed to meet a mixed company. She joined us
yesterday both at dinner and at tea."
"But I was not here!" exclaimed Le.
"No, you were not here, or you would have seen her. To-day she has kept
her room to avoid our visitors. It is a very natural reserve, under the
circumstances, as you must admit, Le."
"Yes; but now they have all gone. Will she be in the parlor this evening,
do you suppose?"
"No, my lad. I asked that question of her mother, who told me that Odalite
was busily engaged and much interested in making things for the
Sunday-school Christmas tree, and so would not come down this evening.
But, Le, you may see her to-morrow morning. You will stay all night here,
of course," said Mr. Force.
"I believe they will expect me home at Greenbushes to-night; but, after
all, they are too much accustomed to my eccentric comings and goings to be
the least uneasy at my absence; so I think I will please myself and stay,
thank you, Uncle Abel," replied the youth.
"That is settled, then," said Mr. Force, as he arose to lead the way back
to the drawing room.