CHAPTER V
A Sacred Confidence
'Duke Radford was very ill. For a week he hovered between life anddeath, and Mrs. Burton's skill was taxed to the uttermost. Therewas no doctor within at least a hundred miles. One of the fishersat Seal Cove had set the broken collar bone, the work being verywell done too, although the man was only an amateur in the art ofbone-setting. But it was not the broken bone, nor any of hisbruises and abrasions, which made 'Duke Radford's peril during thatblack week of care and anxiety. He was ill in himself, so ill infact that Mrs. Burton lost heart, declaring that her father'sconstitution had broken up, and that half a dozen doctors could notpull him through if his time had come.
Katherine would not share this gloomy view, and was always hopingagainst hope. If only the waters had been open, a doctor mighthave been procured from somewhere; but in winter time, when thesmall lakes and many of the lesser rivers were all frozen, nothingin the way of outside help was available, and the dwellers inremote places had to depend upon their own skill, making up innursing what was lacking in medicine.
By the time the second Sunday came, the sick man showed signs ofmending. Mrs. Burton grew hopeful again, while Katherine wasnearly beside herself with joy. It had been a fearfully hard weekfor them all, though the neighbours had been as kind as possible.Stee Jenkin's wife came up from Seal Cove one day, and, after doingas much work as she could find to do, carried the twins off withher to her little house at the Cove, which was a great relief toMrs. Burton and Katherine. Mrs. M'Kree was ill herself, so coulddo no more than send a kindly message; but even that was betterthan nothing, for sympathy is one of the sweetest things on earthwhen one is in trouble.
Sunday was a blessed relief to them at the end of their troubledweek. Finding her father so much better, Mrs. Burton betookherself to bed at noon for the first real untroubled rest she hadenjoyed for many days. The boys were stretched in luxuriousidleness before the glowing fire in the kitchen, and Katherine wasin charge of the sickroom. She was half-asleep herself; the placewas so warm and her father lay in such a restful quiet. It hadbeen so terrible all the week because no rest had seemed possibleto him. But since last night his symptoms had changed, and now helay quietly dozing, only rousing to take nourishment. Presently hestirred uneasily, as if the old restlessness were coming back, thenasked in a feeble tone:
"Are you there, Nellie?"
"Nellie has gone to lie down, Father; but I will call her if youwant her," Katherine said, coming forward to where the sick mancould see her.
"No, I don't want her; it is you I want to talk to, only I didn'tknow whether she was here," he replied.
"I don't think you ought to talk at all," she said, in a doubtfultone. "Drink this broth, dear, and then try to sleep again."
"I will drink the broth, but I don't want to go to sleep again justyet," he said, in a stronger voice.
Katherine fed him as if he were a baby, and indeed he was almost asweak as an infant. But she did not encourage his talking, althoughshe could not prevent it, as he seemed so much better.
"There is something that has been troubling me a great deal, and Iwant to tell you about it," he said. "I could not speak of it toanyone else, and I don't want you to do so either. But it will bea certain comfort to me that you know it, for you are strong andmore fitted for bearing burdens than Nellie, who has had more thanher share of sorrow already."
Katherine shivered. There was a longing in her heart to tell herfather that she wanted no more burdens, that life was already sohard as to make her shrink from any more responsibility. But,looking at him as he lay there in his weakness, she could not saysuch words as these.
"What is it you want to tell me, Father?" she asked. Her voice wastender and caressing; he should never have to guess how she shrankfrom the confidence he wanted to give her, because her instincttold her that it was something which she would not want to hear.
"Do you remember the day we went up to Astor M'Kree's with the lastmail which came through before the waters closed?" he saidabruptly, and again Katherine shivered, knowing for a certaintythat her father's trouble was proving too big for him alone.
"Yes, I remember," she replied very softly,
"That was a black day for me, for it brought dead things to life ina way that I had thought impossible. I used to know that OswaldSelincourt who has bought the fishing fleet."
"That one? Are you sure it is the same?" she asked in surprise."The name is uncommon, still it is within the bounds of probabilitythat there might be two, and you said the one you knew was a poorman."
"I fancy there is no manner of doubt that it is the same," 'DukeRadford said slowly. "The day we went to Fort Garry, M'Crawneytold me he had a letter from Mr. Selincourt too, in which the newowner said he was a Bristol man, and that he had known what it wasto be poor, so did not mean to risk money on ventures he had nochance of controlling, and that was why he was coming here nextsummer to boss the fleet."
"Poor Father!" Katherine murmured softly. "Ah, you may well saypoor!" he answered bitterly. "If it were not for you, the boys,poor Nellie, and her babies, I'd just be thankful to know that I'dnever get up from this bed again, for I don't feel that I havecourage to face life now."
"Father, you must not talk nor think like that, indeed you mustnot!" she exclaimed, in an imploring tone. "Think how we need youand how we love you. Think, too, how desolate we should be withoutyou."
"That is what I tell myself every hour in the twenty-four, and Ishall make as brave a fight for it as I can for your sakes," hesaid in a regretful tone, as if his family cares were holding himto life against his will. Then he went on: "Oswald Selincourt andI were in the same business house in Bristol years ago, and I didhim a great wrong."
Katherine had a sensation that was almost akin to what she wouldhave felt if someone had dashed a bucket of ice-cold water in herface. But she did not move nor cry out, did not even gasp, onlysat still with the dumb horror of it all filling her heart, untilshe felt as if she would never feel happy again. Her father hadalways seemed to her the noblest of men, and she had revered himso, because he always stood for what was right and true. Then someinstinct told her that he must be suffering horribly too, andbecause she could not speak she slid her warm fingers into histrembling hand and held it fast.
"Thank you, dear, I felt I could trust you," he said simply, andthe words braced Katherine for bearing what had to come, more thananything else could have done.
"What is it you want me to know?" she asked, for he had lain forsome minutes without speech, as if the task he had set himself washarder than he could perform.
"I wanted to tell you about the wrong I did Selincourt," the sickman said in a reluctant tone. He had brought himself to the pointof confiding in his daughter, yet even now he shrank from it as iffearing to lower himself in her eyes. "We were clerks in onebusiness house, only Selincourt was above me, and taking a muchhigher salary; but if anything happened to move him, I knew thathis desk would be offered to me. I was poor, but he in a sense waspoorer still, because he had an invalid father and young sistersdependent on him."
"Father, surely there is no need to tell me of this dead-and-buriedaction, unless you wish it, for the telling can do no good now,"burst out Katherine, who could not bear to see the pain in herfather's face.
"A wrong is never dead and buried while the man lives who did it,"'Duke Radford answered with a wan smile, "for his conscience has atrick of rounding on him when he least expects it, and then thereis trouble, at least that is how it has been with me. One day acomplaint was lodged with our business chiefs that one of theclerks had been gambling, was an habitual gambler in fact. I wasnot the one, and I was not suspected, but I knew very well whichone it was; but when suspicion fell on Selincourt, I just keptsilent. For some reason he could not clear himself, was dismissed,and I was promoted. But the promotion did me little good; the firmwent bankrupt in the following year, and I was adrift myself."
"What became
of Selincourt?" asked Katherine, and was instantlysorry she had spoken, because of the pain in her father's face.
"I don't know. I never heard of him from the day he left thecounting-house until Astor M'Kree read his name from that letter,but I thought of him a good bit. It is hard enough for a man to dowell with an unblemished character, but to be thrown out of asituation branded as a gambler is ruin, and nothing short of it."
"What became of the other man--the one who was a gambler?" askedKatherine.
"I don't know. He remained with the firm until the crash came. Ifancy Selincourt's fate made a great impression on him, for I neverheard of his gambling after Selincourt's dismissal," answered herfather.
"How strange that he could not clear himself! Do you expect he hadbeen gambling really, as well as the other one?" Katherine saidquickly.
"I am sure he had not," replied 'Duke Radford. "He was not thatsort at all. But the thing that bowled him over was that he wasknown to have money in his possession, a considerable amount, forwhich he could not or would not account."
"Still, I don't see that you were so much to blame," said Katherinesoothingly. "If the man was accused and could not clear himself,then plainly there was something wrong somewhere: and after all yousimply held your tongue; it was not as if you had stolen anything,letting the blame fall on him, or had falsely accused him in anyway."
"Just the arguments with which I comforted myself when I keptsilent and profited by the downfall of a man who was blameless,"'Duke Radford replied. "But though there may be a sort of truth inthem, it is not real truth, and I have been paying the price eversince of that guilty silence of mine."
"Father, why do you tell me all this now?" cried Katherineprotestingly. Never in her heart would she have quite so muchadmiration for her father again, and the knowledge brought keensuffering with it.
He drew a long breath that was like a sobbing sigh; only too welldid he understand what he had done, but he had counted the cost,and was not going to shirk the consequences.
"Because I've got the feeling that you will be able in some way tomake the wrong right. I don't know how, and I can't see what canbe done, only somehow the conviction has grown to a certainty in mymind, and now I can rest about it," he replied slowly.
"Has this trouble made you so restless and ill?" she asked,thinking that his burden of mental suffering had grown beyond hispowers of endurance since he had been keeping his bed.
"I suppose it may have helped. I have suffered horribly, but sinceI made up my mind to tell you, things have seemed easier, and Ihave been able to sleep," he answered with a heavy sigh.
"Will you tell me just what you want me to do, if--if----?" shebegan, but broke off abruptly, for she could not put in words thedread which had come into her heart that her father might be deadbefore the summer, when Mr. Selincourt was expected in Keewatin.
"If I am alive and well when the summer comes there will be no needfor you to do anything; I shall be able to face the consequences ofmy own wrong-doing. But if not, I leave it to you to do the verybest you can. You can't make up for all the man may have had tosuffer, but at least you can tell him that I was sorry."
Katherine shuddered. It was bad enough to be compelled to hearthat her father had been guilty of such meanness as to keep silent,in order that he might profit by the downfall of an innocent man;but when, in addition to this, she was expected to tell that man ofhow her father had acted, and, as it were, ask pardon for it, theordeal appeared beyond her strength to face. Not a word of thisdid she say, however, for it was quite plain to her that theinvalid had already over-excited himself, and she rather dreadedwhat Mrs. Burton would say presently.
"You must go to sleep, Father, and we will talk about this againanother day," she said firmly.
"No, we will not speak of it again, for it is not a pleasantsubject for discussion," he replied. "Only tell me that you willtake my burden and bear it for me as best you can, if I am not ableto bear it myself, and then I can be at peace."
Katherine bent over him, gathering his feeble hands in a closeclasp, and the steadfast light in her eyes was beautiful to see."Dear Father, I will do my very best to make the wrong as right asit can be made. Now try to rest, and get better as fast as you can."
He smiled, shook his head a little at her talk of getting betterspeedily, then to her great relief he shut his eyes and went tosleep. The burden had fallen from him upon her, and it had fallenso heavily that just at first she was stunned by the blow. Therewas no sound in the quiet room except the regular breathing of thesleeper. Outside the brief winter day merged into the longnorthern night; the stars came out, shining with frosty brilliancy,but Katherine sat by the bedside, and never once did her gazewander to the window. Mrs. Burton came in presently, bringing alamp, and scolding softly because the room was in darkness. Butwhen she saw how quietly her father was sleeping, her gentlecomplaining turned into murmurs of pleased satisfaction.
"Really, Katherine, you are a better nurse than I thought. I wasso afraid of the restlessness coming on again, as it has done aboutthis time every day since his accident. But now he is sleeping mostbeautifully, so I feel sure he has taken a turn, and that we shallpull him through."
"Yes," said Katherine, as she followed Mrs. Burton into the storeto look after the fire. "I think he will get better now," but hertone was so dull and lacking in spirit that her sister faced roundupon her in quick consternation.
"What is the matter? Do you feel ill? Why, you are white as chalk,and you look as if you had seen a ghost!"
"I don't think there are any ghosts to see in this part of theworld," Katherine replied, with a brave attempt at a laugh,"unless, indeed, the unquiet spirit of some Hudson's Bay Company'sagent, done to death by treacherous Indians, haunts these shores."
"Or some poor sealer caught in the ice and frozen to death,"murmured Mrs. Burton, with a sobbing catch in her breath.
Katherine, who was putting wood in the stove, turned suddenly,catching her sister in a warm, impulsive hug. "There are no ghostsnor unquiet spirits among those brave men who meet death whiledoing their daily work, darling!" she said earnestly. "But I fancysome of those old H.B.C. agents were fearful rogues, and welldeserved the fate they met at the hands of the outraged red men."
"Perhaps so; I don't know. But I don't like seeing you look sopale, Katherine. Come and have your tea, and I will send one ofthe boys to look after Father for a little while."
Katherine followed her sister from the store into the kitchen,wondering as she went if tea, however hot, would have the power todrive away the creeping chill at her heart. Miles went off to takecharge of the sickroom, while Phil set tea, chattering all the timeconcerning the gossip of the store which had come to his earsduring the last few days.
"The men are saying that most likely, if Mr. Selincourt is such arich man, he will be sure to have a steamer run up through theStrait two or three times during the summer with provisions, and soit will be bad for Father and the store," he said, carefullysetting the cracked cup for Miles, although by rights it was hisown turn to have it.
"What nonsense people talk!" exclaimed Mrs. Burton, with ascornful laugh. "Mr. Selincourt will have his hands full withmanaging the fishing fleet, and if he is so unwise as to turngeneral trader, I dare say we can find some way of underselling himor enticing his customers away."
Katherine put down her cup of tea with an unsteady movement whichspilled some of the contents over the tablecloth. Here was a viewof the situation which she had not thought to be compelled to face.If Mr. Selincourt did anything which took their trade away, andleft them face to face with starvation, would it be their duty tosit down meekly and bear such an injustice, without attempting ablow in self-defence, and all because of that evil from the pastwhich, although so long buried, had suddenly come to life again?
"Katherine, how frightened you look! You surely are not worryingabout a bit of store gossip, which has probably not the slightestfoundation in fact?" Mrs. Burton said
in remonstrance.
"It is of no use to worry about anything so remote as Mr.Selincourt and the fishing fleet," Katherine answered languidly."But I am so tired that bed for a few hours seems the mostdesirable thing on earth."
"Then go, dear, and get a good rest," said her sister.
But, although Katherine lay down and covered herself with thebedclothes, sleep was long in coming, while the burden she hadtaken made her heart heavy as lead.