CHAPTER XLVII
Leighton paused as he thought grimly over that ride. Then he went on:
"The last thing my father paid for out of his own pocket on my accountwas that team of horses from the livery stable. They got to William'sall right, but they were broken--broken past repair. Poor beasts! Evenso we were only just in time. The old parson married me to Jeanette. Iwould have killed him if he had hesitated. I didn't have to tell him so;he saw it.
"For one blessed moment Jeanette forgot pain and locked her arms aboutmy neck. Then they pushed me out, and William and the parson with me.Mrs. Tuck and the doctor stayed in there. You were born." Leightongripped his hands hard on his stick. "What--what was it the oldWoman--the fortune-teller--said?"
"'Child of love art thou,'" repeated Lewis, in a voice lower than hisfather's. "'At thy birth was thy mother rent asunder, for thou wertconceived too near the heart.'"
Leighton trembled as though with the ague. He nodded his head, alreadylow sunk upon his breast.
"It was that--just that," he whispered. "They called us in, the oldpreacher and me. Jeanette stayed just for a moment, her hand in mine,her eyes in mine, and then--she was gone. The old parson cried like achild. I wondered why he cried. Suddenly I knew, and my curses roseabove his prayers. I sprang for William's rifle in the corner, andbefore they could stop me, I shot you.
"Boy, I shot to kill; but the best shot at a hundred yards will missevery time at a hundred inches. The bullet just grazed your shoulder,and at the sting of it you began to gasp and presently to cry. Tearsafterward the doctor told me you would never have lived to draw a singlebreath if it hadn't been for that shot. The shock of it was what startedyour heart, your lungs. They had tried slapping, and it hadn't done anygood."
Leighton paused again, before he went on in a dull voice.
"After that I can tell you what happened only from hearsay. Aunt Jedcame and took you and what was left of Jeanette, your mother. Sometimeyou must stop in the churchyard down yonder under the steeple and lookfor a little slab that tells nothing--nothing except that Jeanette dieda wife before the law and--and much beloved before God.
"They kept me at William's for days until I was in my right mind. Theday they took me home was the day father paid for the horses--the day hedied. I don't know if he would have forgiven me if he had lived. I neversaw him again alive, after he knew. I've often wondered. I would give alot to know, even to-day, that he would have forgiven. But life is likethat. Death strikes and leaves us blind--blind to some vital spring oflove, could we but find it and touch it."
Lewis was young. Just to hear the burden that had lain so long upon hisfather's heart was too much for him. Not for nothing had Leighton livedbeside his boy. There, under the still trees, their souls reached outand touched. Lewis dropped his head and arms upon his father's knees andsobbed. He felt as though his whole heart was welling up in tears.
Leighton's hand fell caressingly upon him. He did not speak until hisboy had finished crying, then he said:
"I've told you all this because you alone in all the world have a rightto know, a right to know your full inheritance--the inheritance of achild of love."
Leighton paused.
"I never saw you again," he went on, "until that day when we met downthere at the ends of the earth. Aunt Jed had sent you down there to hideyou from me. Before she died she told me where you were and sent me toyou. She needn't have told me to go after you.
"As you go on and meet a wider world, you will hear strange things ofyour father. Believe them all, and then, if you can, still remember.Don't waste love. That's a prayer and a charge. I've wasted a lot oflife and self, but never a jot of love. Now go, boy. Tell them I'vestayed behind for supper."
Lewis did not hurry. When he reached the homestead, it was already late.Mrs. Tuck had kept their supper hot for them. When she saw Lewis come inalone, she rushed up to him with eager questions of his father. Lewislooked with new eyes upon her kindly anxious face.
"It's all right," he said. "Dad stayed behind. He doesn't want anysupper."
Mrs. Tuck looked shrewdly at him, and then turned away.
"It ain't never all right," she said half to herself, "when a manfull-grown don't want his supper."
Lewis saw nothing more of his father that night. He tried to keep awake,but it was long after sleep had conquered him that Leighton came in. Andduring the days that followed he saw less and less of his father. Earlyin the morning Leighton would be up. He would eat, and then wander aboutthe place listlessly with his cigar. His head hanging, he would wanderfarther and farther from the house until, almost without volition, hewould suddenly strike off in a straight line across the hills.
Lewis would have noticed the desertion more had it not been for Natalie.Natalie claimed and held all his days. Together they walked and drovetill Lewis had learned all the highways and byways that Natalie had longsince discovered. She liked the byways best, and twice she drove throughcrowding brush to the foot of the lane that was barred.
"I've often come here," she said, "and I've even tried to pull thosebars down, but they're solider than they look. I'm not strong enough.Will you help me some day? I want to follow that dear old mossy lane toits end, if it has one. It looks as if it led straight into the land ofdreams."
"It probably does," said Lewis. "I'll never help you pull down thosebars, because, if you've got any heart, you can look at them and seethat whoever put them up owns that land of dreams, and there's no landof dreams with room for more than two people, and they must be holdinghands."
"You've made me not want to go in there," said Natalie as she turned Giparound. "How could you see it like that? You're not a woman."
Lewis did not answer, but when, two days later, they were out afterstrawberries, and Natalie led him through a wood in the valley to thefoot of the pasture with the oaks and the spring, Lewis stopped her.
"Don't let's go up there, Nan," he said. "That's part of somebody else'sland of dreams. Dad's tip there somewhere, I'm sure."
Natalie looked at him, and he saw in her eyes that she knew all that hehad not told in words.