“And can you tell me how they all are--out at Moorlands? Have you seen my father lately?”
“Not your father, but I met your old servant, Alec, a few days ago.”
“Alec!--dear old Alec! Tell me about him. And my mother--was she all right? What did Alec say, and how did the old man look?”
“Yes; your mother was well. He said they were all well, except Colonel Rutter, whose eyes troubled him. Alec seemed pretty much the same--may be a little older.”
Harry's mind began to wander. The room and his companion were forgotten. He was again at Moorlands, the old negro following him about, his dear mother sitting by his bed or kissing him goodnight.
For an instant he sat gazing into the smouldering embers absorbed in his thoughts. Then as if some new vista had opened out before him he asked suddenly:
“You don't know what he was doing in town, do you? Was my mother with him?”
“No, he was alone. He had brought some things in for Mr. Seymour--some game or something, if I remember right. There's to be a wedding there soon, so I hear. Yes, now I think of it, it WAS game--some partridges, perhaps, your father had sent in. The old man asked about you--he always does. And now, Mr. Rutter, tell me about yourself--have you done well?” He didn't think he had, judging from his general appearance, but he wanted to be sure in case St. George asked him.
Harry settled in his chair, his broad shoulders filling the back. The news of Kate's wedding was what he had expected. Perhaps it was already over. He was glad, however, the information had come to him unsought. For an instant he made no reply to Pawson's inquiry, then he answered slowly: “Yes, and no. I have made a little money--not much--but some--not enough to pay Uncle George everything I owe him--not yet; another time I shall do better. I was down with fever for a while and that cost me a good deal of what I had saved. But I HAD to come back. I met a man who told me Uncle George was ruined; that he had left this house and that somebody had put a sign on it, I thought at first that this must refer to you and your old arrangement in the basement, until I questioned him closer. I knew how careless he had always been about his money transactions, and was afraid some one had taken advantage of him. That's why I was so upset when I came in a while ago: I thought they had stolen his furniture as well. The ship Mohican--one of the old Barkeley line--was sailing the day I reached the coast and I got aboard and worked my passage home. I learned to do that on my way out. I learned to wear a beard too. Not very becoming, is it?”--and a low, forced laugh escaped his lips. “But shaving is not easy aboard ship or in the mines.”