"Was it his duty to ruin my father?"
"He must have thought so; but we are getting on dangerous ground. I don"t know much about the matter. Do you?"
Clare lowered her eyes. Since Richter"s visit, she had had disturbing doubts about the nature of Kenwardine"s business; but after a few moments she asked in a hard, suspicious voice: "How do you know so much about Mr.
Brandon?"
"Well," said Ida calmly, "it"s plain that I"m not in love with him, because if I were, I should not have tried to make his peace with you. As a matter of fact, I"m going to marry somebody else before very long.
However, now I think I"ve cleared away a possible mistake, I"ll own that I like d.i.c.k Brandon very much and am grateful to him for the care he has taken of my brother."
"He stopped Jake from coming here," Clare rejoined with a blush.
"That is so," Ida agreed. "He has done a number of other things that got him into difficulties, because he thought it right. That"s the kind of man he is. Then I understand he was out of work and feeling desperate when my father engaged him, he got promotion in his employment, and I asked him to see that Jake came to no harm. I don"t know if he kept his promise too conscientiously, and you can judge better than me. But I think you ought to read the letters your father gave him."
She first put down Kenwardine"s statement about the theft of the plans, and Clare was conscious of overwhelming relief as she read it. d.i.c.k knew now that she was not the thief. Then Ida said: "If you will read the next, you will see that your father doesn"t feel much of a grievance against Brandon."
The note was short, but Kenwardine stated clearly that if Clare wished to marry Brandon he would be satisfied and advised her to do so. The girl"s face flushed as she read and her hands trembled. Kenwardine certainly seemed to bear d.i.c.k no ill will. But since the latter had his formal consent, why had he not used it?
"Did Mr. Brandon send you with these letters?" she asked as calmly as she could.
"No, I brought them without telling him, because it seemed the best thing to do."
"You knew what they said?"
"I did," Ida admitted. "They were open."
Clare noted her confession; but she must deal with matters of much greater importance.
"Then do you know why he kept the letters back?"
Ida hesitated. If Clare were not the girl she thought, she might, by appealing to her compa.s.sion, supply her with a reason for giving d.i.c.k up, but if this happened, it would be to his advantage in the end. Still she did not think she was mistaken and she must take the risk.
"Yes," she said. "I feel that you ought to understand his reasons; that is really why I came. It looks as if you had not heard that shortly after he met your father d.i.c.k fell down the steamer"s hold."
Clare made an abrupt movement and her face got anxious. "Was he hurt?"
"Very badly. He broke two ribs and the fever he got soon afterwards stopped his getting better; but that is not the worst. One of his eyes was injured, and there is some danger that he may lose his sight."
It was plain that Clare had got a shock, for she sat in a tense att.i.tude and the color left her face; but Ida saw that she had read her character right and taken the proper course. Indeed, she wondered whether she had not unnecessarily harrowed the girl"s feelings.
"Now," she resumed, "you understand why d.i.c.k Brandon kept back the letters. It is obvious that he loves you, but he is disfigured and may have to give up his profession----"
She stopped, for Clare"s face changed and her eyes shone with a gentle light.
"But what does that matter?" she exclaimed. "He can"t think it would daunt me."
Ida rose, for she saw that she had said enough. "Then perhaps you had better show him that you are not afraid. If you will dine with us this evening at the dam, you will see him. Jake will come for you and bring you back."
When she left a few minutes later she had arranged for the visit, and Clare sat still, overwhelmed with compa.s.sionate gentleness and relief.
Her father did not blame d.i.c.k and there was no reason she should harden her heart against him. He knew that she was innocent, but he was tied by honorable scruples. Well, since he would not come to her, she must go to him, but she would do so with pride and not false shame. It was clear that he loved her unselfishly. By and by, however, she roused herself. As she was going to him, there were matters to think about, and entering the house she spent some time studying her wardrobe and wondering what she would wear.
That evening d.i.c.k sat on the veranda of his shack, with a shaded lamp, which he had turned low, on the table close by. His comrades were dining at Fuller"s tent and he had been asked, but had made excuses although he was well enough to go. For one thing, it hurt him to sit in a strong light, though the oculist, whom he had seen in the morning, spoke encouragingly about his eye. Indeed, d.i.c.k had begun to think that there was now no real danger of its having received a permanent injury. For all that, he was listless and depressed, because he had not got rid of the fever and malaria is generally worse at night. He had been cautioned not to read and his cigarette had a bitter taste. There was nothing to do but wait until Jake came home. Now he thought of it, Jake had accepted his excuses rather easily.
By and by, he heard the lad"s voice and footsteps on the path. Jake was returning early and there was somebody with him, but d.i.c.k wished they had left him alone. He rose, however, as Ida came up the steps and into the light, which did not carry far. d.i.c.k imagined there was another person as well as Jake in the shadow behind.
"Jake brought me over to see his last sketches and I"m going in to criticize them," she said. "As you couldn"t come to us, I"ve brought you a visitor, whom you know."
d.i.c.k felt his heart beat as he saw Clare. She was dressed in white, and the silver clasp gleamed against a lavender band at her waist. It was significant that she wore it, but he could not see her face clearly. Then Ida beckoned Jake.
"Come along; I want to look at the drawings."
They went into the house, and d.i.c.k made an effort to preserve his self-control. Clare moved into the light and he saw her color rise, though her eyes were very soft.
"Why didn"t you tell me you were ill?" she asked with gentle reproach.
He hesitated, trying to strengthen his resolution, which he knew was breaking down, and Clare resumed:
"Besides, I don"t think you should have kept that letter back."
d.i.c.k instinctively pulled out the leather case, and started as he saw there was nothing inside.
"It"s gone. You have seen it?" he stammered.
"I"ve seen them both," Clare answered with a smile. "Doesn"t this remind you of something? I"m afraid you"re careless, d.i.c.k."
The color rushed into his face. "If you have seen those letters, you know what a suspicious fool I"ve been."
"That doesn"t matter. You"re convinced at last?" Clare rejoined with a hint of pride.
"In a sense, I always was convinced. If I"d seen you take the wretched plans, I wouldn"t have held you accountable. Because you took them, it couldn"t have been wrong."
Clare blushed, but looked at him with shining eyes. "I wanted to hear you say it again. But it wasn"t that letter--I mean the one about the plans--that brought me."
Then the last of d.i.c.k"s self-control vanished and with a half conscious movement he held out his hands. Clare came forward and next moment she was in his arms.
Some time later he felt he must be practical and said in a deprecatory tone: "But you must try to understand what you are doing, dear, and the sacrifices you must make. Things aren"t quite as bad as they looked, but I can"t go home just yet and may always be a poor engineer." He indicated the galvanized-iron shack. "You will have to live in a place like this, and though I think my eye will get better, there"s the scar on my face----"
Clare gave him a quiet smiling glance. "That doesn"t matter, d.i.c.k, and I never really had a home." She paused and added gently: "But I shall have one now."