The Buccaneer Farmer Part 42

"Yes," said Grace. "I am afraid this may happen."

"Well, I value your friendship and don't mean to give it up, but I can't pretend, and think you wouldn't be deceived if I tried."

"You mean you would not do what you thought was shabby in order to avoid a clash?"

"I mean something like that. Now you know how things are, you must choose your line. I can't judge how far your duty to your parents binds you; you can."

Grace felt her heart beat and was silent for a moment or two.

"I cannot criticize my father's deeds and agree with people who are opposed to him," she said. "All the same, unless he expressly orders it, I cannot give up my friends."

Kit tried to hide his satisfaction. "We'll let it go; I understand!"

He expected her to move away, and wondered whether it was tactful for him to stop, but to his surprise she smiled and sat down on the bridge.

"Very well. Suppose we talk about something else? The shade is nice, and I need not go home yet. You promised to tell me about your adventures and your uncle. I think you called him a survival from the old romantic days when the pirates haunted the Gulf of Mexico."

Kit pondered as he leaned against the alder trunk. He thought Grace meant to banish the strain; anyhow, she was willing to stay and he wanted her to do so. It was strangely pleasant to loiter on the bridge with her while the shadows trembled on the road and the beck murmured in the shade. But if he meant to keep her, he must talk, and although he did not want to say much about his adventures he had a story to tell. The story was moving, if he could tell it properly.

"I'm not clever at drawing a portrait, but I'd like to try," he said.

"For one thing, my subject's worth the effort; and then, you see, I was fond of Adam. In some ways, he was not romantic; in fact, he was remarkably practical. His bold strokes were made deliberately, after calculating the cost; but now and then one got a hint of something strangely romantic and in a sense extravagant. Yet human nature's curious. When he played out a losing game, knowing he would lose, it was not from sentimental impulse but a firm persuasion it was worth while."

He paused, and gave Grace an apologetic glance. "I'm afraid this is rather foggy. Perhaps I'd better begin where I met him, at a Florida hotel--if I'm not boring you."

Grace said she was not bored and Kit, gaining confidence, narrated how they b.u.mped the _Rio Negro_ across the surf-swept shoals, landed the guns, and met Alvarez. His own part in their adventures was lightly indicated, but the girl's imagination supplied what he left out. She felt strangely interested as Kit's portrait of his uncle grew into shape, although her thoughts dwelt largely on the artist. Then the background--the steamy swamp, old presidio, and dazzling town--had a romantic fascination, and when he told her about the journey to the mission and the church where the candles that Adam sent burned before the Virgin's shrine, her eyes shone.

"Ah," she said, "I am glad you told me! One thinks better of human nature after hearing a tale like that. In a way, it's a rebuke. Are such men numerous?"

"I have known two. Perhaps it's a coincidence that both were my relations. They're commoner than people think."

"You're an optimist, but one likes optimists," Grace remarked with a gentle smile. "However, what had the president done to deserve the sacrifice your uncle made?"

"I never knew, but suspect it was something against the laws of his country. If I told my story properly, you would understand that both were buccaneers."

"But they had their code! I like the president and your uncle was very fine. One feels moved when one thinks about the shabby little altar and the candles love had lighted that never went out--all those years! Adam's wife loved him. She went to nurse him, although her friends warned her and she knew the risk."

Grace mused for a time and Kit thought her face disturbed. Then she looked up quietly.

"One needs courage to know the risk and not to hesitate. But you will keep those candles burning?"

"Yes," said Kit, "I promised. Besides, I like to think they're burning.

It means something."

"It means much," Grace agreed, and after a pause resumed: "You had no doubt about taking up your uncle's engagement with the president, although you saw what it might cost?"

"Of course not," Kit replied. "There was nothing else to be done."

Grace smiled and got up. "No," she said, "there was nothing else you could do. Well, I must go home."

Kit went back with her for some distance. They talked but little on the way, but when she left him she gave him her hand and a look that made his heart beat.

Soon after Grace reached Tarnside, Osborn crossed the lawn to the tea-table where she and Mrs. Osborn sat beneath a spreading copper-beech.

His face was thoughtful when Mrs. Osborn gave him a cup.

"I met the post as I was driving home," he said. "There's a letter from Gerald."

"Has he any news?" Mrs. Osborn asked.

"Nothing important. He's well and says he's kept occupied, which is fortunate. In fact, the harder they work him, the better; I'd sooner Gerald did not have much time on his hands."

"Then, why did he write?" Grace asked, because Gerald's letters were by no means regular.

"I hope he did not want money," Mrs. Osborn remarked.

"No," said Osborn. "That is, he did not want it for himself." He hesitated, and then resumed: "He states that if I could raise a moderate sum, he knows how we could make a very satisfactory profit in a short time. It seems he has got a useful hint."

Grace laughed. "About a racehorse? Gerald is always hopeful, but his confidence in his ability to spot the winner is dangerous. It has been so often misplaced."

"This has nothing to do with racing," Osborn rejoined angrily. "Gerald knows the consequences of indulging his folly again. There's a difference between betting and buying shares."

"I don't know if the difference is very marked," said Grace, with a curious feeling of annoyance, for there was a note in Osborn's voice that jarred. He was, like Gerald, a gambler, greedy for money he had not earned, and she thought about the story Kit had told. Its hero had risked and lost his life, and Kit had paid in health and fortune, because they put honor before gain. For all that, she knew she had said enough when she saw Osborn's frown.

"Gerald is young, but he holds a responsible post and has opportunities of meeting important stock-brokers and business men," Osborn went on, turning to his wife. "He is, of course, optimistic and has been rash, but after all he may have found out something useful. He declares the venture is absolutely safe."

"But you have no money to invest," Mrs. Osborn insisted anxiously.

"As a matter of fact, I have some. You see, I borrowed a sum not long since on Ryecote."

"Oh!" said Mrs. Osborn, with a resigned gesture, and then braced herself.

"But if you have got the money, it ought not to be used for speculation.

There is much that needs to be done on the estate."

"That is so; it was my reason for borrowing. All the same, it would be a very long time before I got back what I meant to spend on drains and steadings. Besides, the repairs and improvements need not be made just yet, and I might be able to use the money and earn a good profit first."

"You might lose it all," Mrs. Osborn insisted. "Gerald is rash and business men don't tell young bank-clerks important secrets. Then, although it was a shock to hear you had mortgaged Ryecote, the money is so badly needed that it must not be risked." She paused and resumed with some color in her face, "It is hard to own, but perhaps Gerald is not altogether to be trusted."

Osborn moved abruptly. His wife had touched the doubt that made him hesitate; in fact, this was a matter upon which he wanted her advice. She knew her son and had judged right when Osborn had been deceived.

"Well," he said, knitting his brows, "I haven't quite decided. I had thought about asking for particulars, but after all Gerald's hint may not be worth much and unless one is really well informed speculation is dangerous."

He looked round and saw Thorn. The latter had come up without disturbing the group and now joined them with a smile.

"I heard your last remark," he said. "My opinion is your views are sound. It is very rash to speculate on shares you don't know much about."

Mrs. Osborn felt disturbed, because she wondered how much he had heard, but he went on carelessly: "Gerald's too young for one to trust his judgment. My advice is, leave the thing alone."

Grace gave him a grateful glance. She did not like Alan Thorn, but he was cautious and she saw that Osborn was hesitating. It would not need much persuasion to move him one way or the other, and she felt that to let Gerald have the money would be a dangerous mistake.

"You really think I had better keep out of it?" Osborn asked.