Sons and Fathers

by Harry Stillwell Edwards

  CHAPTER VIII.

  ON THE BACK TRAIL.

  Edward found himself next day feverish and mentally disturbed; but hefelt new life in the morning air. There was a vehicle available; a roomybuggy, after the fashion of those chosen by physicians, with coveredtops to keep out the sun, and rubber aprons for the rain. And there wasa good reliable horse, that had traveled the city road almost daily forten years.

  He finished his meal and started out. In the yard he found Gerald paleand with the contracted pupils that betrayed his deadly habit. He wastaking views with a camera and came forward with breathless interest.

  "I am trying some experiments with photographs on the line of ourconversation," he said. "If the mind pictures can be revived they mustnecessarily exist. Do they? The question with me now is, can any livingsubstance retain a photographic impression? You understand, it seemsthat the brain can receive these impressions through certain senses, butthe brain is transient; through a peculiar process of supply and wasteit is always coming and going. If it is true that every atom of ourphysical bodies undergoes a change at least once in seven years, how canthe impressions survive? I have here upon my plate the sensitized filmof a fish's eyes; I caught it this morning. I must establish, first, theproposition that a living substance can receive a photographic image; ifI can make an impression remain upon this film I have gained a littlepoint--a little one. But the fish should be alive. There are almostinsuperable difficulties, you understand! The time will come when a newlight will be made, so powerful, penetrating as to illumine solids.Then, perhaps, will the brain be seen at work through the skull; thenmay its tiny impressions even be found and enlarged; then will the pastgive up its secrets. And the eye is not the brain." He looked away inperplexity. "If I only had brain substance, brain substance--a livingbrain!" He hurried away and Edward resumed his journey to the city, sadand thoughtful.

  "It was not wise," he said, "it was not wise to start Gerald upon thatline of thought. And yet why not as well one fancy as another?" He hadno conception of the power of an idea in such a mind as Gerald's.

  "You did not mention to me," he said an hour later, sitting inEldridge's office, "that I would have a ward in charge out at Ilexhurst.You naturally supposed I knew it, did you not?"

  "And you did not know it?" Eldridge looked at him in unaffectedastonishment.

  "Positively not until the day after I reached the house! I had neverheard of Gerald Morgan. You can imagine my surprise, when he walked inupon me one night."

  "You really astound me; but it is just like old Morgan--pardon me if Ismile. Of all eccentrics he was the most consistent. Yes, you have acharge and a serious one. I am probably the only person in the city whoknows something of Gerald, and my information is extremely limited. Withan immense capacity for acquiring information, a remarkable memory and akeen analysis, the young man has never developed the slightest capacityfor business. He received everything, but applied nothing. I wasinformed by his uncle, not long since, that there was no science exactor occult into which Gerald had not delved at some time, but his mindseemed content with simply finding out."

  "Gerald has been a most prodigious reader, devouring everything,"continued the judge, "ancient and modern, within reach, knows literatureand politics equally well, and is master of most languages to the pointof being able to read them. I suppose his unfortunate habit--of courseyou know of that--is the obstacle now. For many years now I believe, theyoung man has not been off the plantation, and only at long intervalswas he ever absent from it. Ten or fifteen years ago he used to be seenoccasionally in the city in search of a book, an instrument or somethinghis impatience could not wait on."

  "Ten or fifteen years ago! You knew him then before he was grown?"

  "I have known him ever since his childhood!" An exclamation in spite ofhim escaped from Edward's lips, but he did not give Eldridge time toreflect upon it.

  "Is his existence generally known?" asked he, in some confusion.

  "Oh, well, the public knows of his existence. He is the skeleton inMorgan's closet, that is all."

  "And who is he?" asked Edward, looking the lawyer straight into theeyes.

  "That," said Eldridge, gravely, "is what I would ask of you." Edward wassilent. He shook his head; it was an admission of ignorance, confirmedby his next question.

  "Have you no theory, Judge, to account for his existence under suchcircumstances?"

  "Theory? Oh, no! The public and myself have always regarded him simplyas a fact. His treatment by John Morgan was one of the few glimpses wegot of the old man's rough, kind nature. But his own silence seemed tobeg silence, and no one within my knowledge ever spoke with him upon thesubject. It would have been very difficult," he added, with a smile,"for he was the most unapproachable man, in certain respects, that Iever met."

  "You knew him well? May I ask if ever within your knowledge there wasany romance or tragedy in his earlier life?"

  "I do not know nor have I ever heard of any tragedy in the life of yourrelative," said the lawyer, slowly; and then, after a pause: "It isknown to men of my age, at least remembered by some, that late in life,or when about forty years old, he conceived a violent attachment for thedaughter of a planter in this county and was, it is said, at one timeengaged to her. The match was sort of family arrangement and the girlvery young. She was finishing her education at the north and was to havebeen married upon her return; but she never returned. She ran away toEurope with one of her teachers. The war came on and with it theblockade. No one has ever heard of her since. Her disappearance, herexistence, were soon forgotten. I remember her because I, then a younglawyer, had been called occasionally to her father's house, where I metand was greatly impressed by her. But I am probably one of the few whohave carried in mind her features. She was a beautiful and lovable youngwoman, but, without a mother's training she had grown up self-willed andthe result was as I have told you." Edward had risen and was walking thefloor. He paused before the speaker.

  "Judge Eldridge," he said, his voice a little unsteady, "I am going toask you a question, which I trust you will be free to answer--willanswer, and then forget." An expression of uneasiness dwelt on thelawyer's face, but he answered:

  "Ask it; if I am free to answer, and can, I will."

  "I will ask it straight," said Edward, resolutely: "Have you eversuspected that Gerald Morgan is the son of the young woman who wentaway?"

  Eldridge's reply was simply a grave bow. He did not look up.

  "You do not know that to be a fact?"

  "I do not."

  "What, then, is my duty?"

  "To follow the directions left by your relative," said Eldridge,promptly.

  Edward reflected a few moments over the lawyer's answer.

  "I agree with you, but time may bring changes. May I ask what is yourtheory of this strange situation--as regards my ward?" He could notbring himself to betray the fact of his own mystery.

  "I suppose," said Eldridge, slowly, "that if your guess is correct theadventure of the lady was an unfortunate one, and that, disowned athome, she made John Morgan the guardian of her boy. She, more thanlikely, is long since dead. It would have been entirely consistent withyour uncle's character if, outraged in the beginning, he was forgivingand chivalrous in the end."

  "But why was the silence never broken?"

  "I do not know that it was never broken. I have nothing to go upon. Ibelieve, however, that it never was. The explanations that suggestthemselves to my mind are, first, a pledge of silence exacted from him,and he would have kept such a pledge under any circumstances. Second, adifficulty in proving the legitimacy of the boy. You will understand,"he added, "that the matter is entirely suppositious. I would prefer tothink that your uncle saw unhappiness for the boy in a change ofguardianship, and unhappiness for the grandfather, and left the matteropen. You know he died suddenly."

  There was silence of a few moments and Eldridge added: "And yet it doesseem that he would have left the old man something to settle the doubtwhich must
have rested upon his mind; it is an awful thing to lose adaughter from sight and live out one's life in ignorance of her fate."And then, as Edward made no reply, "you found nothing whatever toexplain the matter?"

  "Nothing! In the desk, to which his note directed me, I found only ashort letter of directions; one of which was that I should arrange withyou to provide for Gerald's future in case of my death. The deskcontained nothing else except some manuscripts--fragmentary narrativesand descriptions, they seemed." Eldridge smiled.

  "His one weakness," he said. "Years ago John Morgan became impressedwith the idea that he was fitted for literary work and began to writeshort stories for magazines, under _nom de plume_. I was the only personwho shared his secret and together we told many a good story of bench,bar and practice. Neither of us had much invention and our career--yousee I claim a share--our career was limited to actual occurrences. Whenour stock of ammunition was used up we were bankrupt. But it was asuccess while it lasted. Mr. Morgan had a rapid, vivid style ofpresenting scenes; his stories were full of action and dramaticsituations and made quite a hit. I did not know he had any writings leftover. He used to say, though, as I remember now, speaking in theserio-comic way he often affected, that the great American novel, solong expected, lay in his desk in fragments. You have probably gottenamong these.

  "And by the way," continued the judge, impressively, "he was not farwrong in his estimate of the literary possibilities of this section. Thepeculiar institutions of the south, its wealth, its princely planters,and through all the tangle of love, romance, tragedy and family secrets.And what a background! The war, the freed slaves, the oldregime--courtly, unchanged, impractical and helpless. Turgeneff wroteunder such a situation in Russia, and called his powerful novel 'Fathersand Sons.' Mr. Morgan used to say that he was going to call his 'Sonsand Fathers.' Hold to his fragments; he was a close observer, and if youhave literary aspirations they will be suggestive." Edward shook hishead.

  "I have none, but I see the force of your outline. Now about Gerald; Itrust you will think over the matter and let me know what your judgmentsuggests. I promised Mr. Montjoy to drop in at the club. I will saygood-morning."

  "No," said Eldridge, "it is my lunch hour and I will go with you."

  Together they went to a business club and Edward was presented to agroup of elderly men who were discussing politics over their glasses.Among them was Col. Montjoy, in town for a day, several capitalists, aplanter or two, lawyers and physicians. They regarded the newcomer withinterest and received him with perfect courtesy. "A grand man yourrelative was, Mr. Morgan, a grand man; perfect type, sir, of thesouthern gentleman! The community, sir, has met with an irreparableloss. I trust you will make your home here, sir. We need good men, sir;strong, brainy, energetic men, sir."

  So said the central figure, Gen. Albert Evan.

  "Montjoy, you remember cousin Sam Pope of the Fire-Eaters--died in theditch at Marye's Heights near Cobb? Perfect likeness of Mr. Morgan here;same face same figure--pardon the personal allusion, Mr. Morgan, butyour prototype was the bravest of the brave. You do each other honor inthe resemblance, sir! Waiter, fill these glasses! Gentlemen," cried thegeneral, "we will drink to the health of our young friend and the memoryof Sam Pope. God bless them both."

  Such was Edward's novel reception, and he would not have been human hadhe not flushed with pleasure. The conversation ran back gradually to itsoriginal channel.

  "We have been congratulating Col. Montjoy, Mr. Morgan," said one of theparty in explanation to Morgan, "upon the announcement of his candidacyfor congress."

  "Ah," said the latter, promptly bowing to the old gentleman, "let meexpress the hope that the result will be such as will enable me tocongratulate the country. I stand ready, colonel, to lend my aid as faras possible, but I am hampered somewhat by not knowing my own politicsyet. Are you on the Democratic or Republican ticket, colonel?"

  This astonishing question silenced the conversation instantly and drewevery eye upon him. But recovering from his shock, Col. Montjoy smiledamiably, and said:

  "There is but one party in this state, sir--the Democratic. I am acandidate for nomination, but nomination is election always with us."Then to the others present he added: "Mr. Morgan has lived abroad sincehe came of age--I am right, am I not, Mr. Morgan?"

  "Quite so. And I may add," continued Edward, who was painfully consciousof having made a serious blunder, "that I have never lived in the southand know nothing of state politics." This would have been sufficient,but unfortunately Edward did not realize it. "I know, however, that youhave here a great problem and that the world is watching to see how youwill handle the race question. I wish you success; the negro has mysympathy and I think that much can be safely allowed him in thesettlement."

  He remembered always thereafter the silence that followed this earnestremark, and he had cause to remember it. He had touched the old south inits rawest point and he was too new a citizen. Eldridge joined him inthe walk back, but Edward let him talk for both. The direction of histhoughts was indicated in the question he asked at parting.

  "Judge Eldridge, did you purposely withhold the girl's name--my uncle'sfiancee? If so, I will not ask it, but----"

  "No, not purposely, but we handle names reluctantly in this country. Shewas Marion Evan, and you but recently met her father."