Half a Rogue Part 25

"I do."

"That is better."

"Patty?"

"Well."

"Do you ever look in your mirror?"

"The idea! Of course I do. I look in it every morning and every night.

And as often as I find the time. Why?"

"Nothing; only, I do not blame you."

"What's all this leading to?" frowning.

"Heaven knows! But I feel sentimental this morning. There is so much beauty surrounding me that I feel impelled to voice my appreciation of it."

"There is no remedy, I suppose."

"None, save the agony of extemporization."

"I have never heard you talk like this before. What IS the matter?"

"Perhaps it is the exhilaration I feel for the coming fight. Would you like to see me mayor?"

"Indeed I should. Think of the circus tickets you'd have to give away each year! You know they always give the mayor a handful for his personal use. No, Mr. Warrington, I shall be very proud of you when you are mayor."

"What's the matter with your calling me Richard or d.i.c.k?"

"We must not advance too suddenly."

"Is there anything the matter with the name?"

"Oh, no; Richard is quite musical in its way. But I am always thinking of the humpbacked king. If I called you anything it would be d.i.c.k."

"Richard was not humpbacked. Moreover, he was a valiant king, greatly maligned by Mr. Shakespeare."

"I see that I shall not dare argue with you on the subject; but we can not banish on so short a notice the early impressions of childhood.

Richard Third has always been a bugaboo to my mind. Some day, perhaps, I'll get over it."

"Make it d.i.c.k, as a compromise."

"Some day, when I have known you a little longer. Has John ever told you about Mr. McQuade?"

"McQuade?" Warrington realized that he had been floating on a pleasant sea. He came upon the hidden sh.o.r.e rather soundly. "McQuade?" he repeated.

"Yes. He had the audacity to propose to mother shortly after father's death. Think of it! John wrote to him very definitely that his presence in the house would no longer be welcomed or tolerated. Father had some slight business transactions with Mr. McQuade, and he came up to the house frequently. He continued these visits after father's death. We treated him decently, but we simply could not make him feel welcome. The third time he called he proposed.

"Mother left the room without even replying. He understood. A few minutes afterward we heard the door slam. John wrote him the next morning. Did you ever hear of anything to equal the cold-bloodedness of it?"

Warrington looked at her in absolute amazement.

"Well, of all the nerve! Why the deuce didn't John punch his head?"

savagely.

"Mr. McQuade is not a gentleman; John is," simply. "But Mr. McQuade hasn't forgotten; not he. He pays no attention to any of us; but that is no sign that he does not think a good deal. However, we do not worry. There is no possible chance for him to retaliate; at least John declares there isn't. But sometimes I grow afraid when I think it all over. To his mind I can see that he considers himself badly affronted; and from what I know of his history, he never lets an affront pa.s.s without striking back in some manner."

"Don't you worry your head about McQuade. What do you think? He is so anxious to get me out of the political arena that he has sent a man down to New York to look into my past. Isn't that droll?"

Patty stooped again to the fishing-tackle.

"Such men as McQuade can invent. I should be very careful, if I were you. Your own conscience may prove you guiltless of scandal, but there are certain people who would rather believe bad than good--scandal than truth; and these are always in the majority. Don't laugh, but watch. That's my advice to you, Mr. Meddler." She smiled brightly at him as she threaded the line through the guides of the rod.

"I may not have lived as cleanly as I might have," he said soberly. "I have been knocked about so much. There were times when I grew tired of fighting. But I have never done anything that will not stand daylight.

There was a time, Patty, when I came near making a fool of myself." He sat down, his legs swinging over the water. "I drank more than was good for me." He stared into the brown water and watched the minnows as they darted hither and thither. "I was alone; things went wrong, and I was cowardly enough to fall into the habit. But it was only periodically. You remember that letter I showed you?"

"Yes." Patty's voice was low.

"I believe I have read it a thousand times. It has caused me a great many regrets. I should like, some day, to meet the writer and disillusion her. One thing she may be sure of: I have never belittled the talent G.o.d has given me. I have striven for the ideal; I have even fought for it. That part of my life holds no stain."

"But the habit?" hesitant.

"It is gone, where all fool-habits go, when a man has will power to rid himself of them. Pride has something to do with it; and I have my share of pride. I shall never go back."

His head was turned away, but she could see the muscles in the jaws harden.

"You will never go back, I am sure, Richard."

That she had at last p.r.o.nounced his given name did not stir him; in fact, it pa.s.sed over his head and hearing. Like a dragon-brood, he saw in fancy his past follies springing up about him. Not yet could he tell this clean-minded, gentle-bred girl that he loved her. He must prove himself still further before he might utter what so thoroughly filled his heart and mind.

"Your brother's wife brought me to my senses. What I am to-day she in part has made. That is why I think so much of her; that is why I am happy to see that she is happy and has realized her heart's desire.

Heigh-ho! I believe I am making you my confessor." He turned his face toward her now, and his smile was rather sad. "When I recall the worry I have given my poor old aunt, who loves me so, I feel like a contemptible scoundrel. How many countless sacrifices has she made for me, in the days when we had nothing! But she shall have all the comforts now, and all the love and kindness I am capable of giving her. I shall never leave her again."

There were tears in Patty's eyes. "It is never too late to mend; and when a man is penitent, truly and honestly penitent, much shall be forgiven him. It is only those who are by nature coa.r.s.e who do not eventually surmount temptation. What you have told me I have known this long while."

"You have known?" he cried with sinking heart.

"Yes. We live in a city where gossip travels quickly and thoroughly.

Mrs. Franklyn-Haldene was telling mother one afternoon that you drank.

I suppose she felt it her duty."

"To be sure," bitterly. "Was it while I have been living at home?"

"No; when the rumor came that you were coming."

He shrugged expressively. "I ought to have known."