CHAPTER VI
Comfortably ensconced in a victoria, two men were bowling out throughthe suburbs of Radnor in the rapidly approaching dusk of a winterafternoon. One, wrapped to the chin in furs, sat well back in the cornerof the carriage as if desirous of all possible protection from the cold;the other leaned forward in a somewhat restive attitude and looked likea man occupying his position under protest. Each was immersed in his ownthoughts, but from time to time the younger man took a surreptitiousglance in the direction of the older as if he were endeavoring to makesome important discovery. He was, in truth, trying to decide if themoment were propitious for laying before his father a project which hehad been for some time considering, but the impassive face of Mr. Landortold him nothing, and they continued to ride on in silence. Finally, ina tone of annoyance the older man said: "I wish, Kenneth, you wouldoblige me by leaning back and appearing as if you were enjoyingyourself. I must confess it is no particular pleasure to me to drivewith a man who looks as if he might leap from the carriage at anymoment."
"Then why do you insist on my going, father? You know I detest this sortof thing--it is only fit for women. If you would come out with me now inmy trap, it would be very different."
"Your breakneck method of driving does not suit me at all. I suppose Imay be allowed to take my pleasures in my own way, and it occurs to methat it is not altogether unreasonable to request you to accompany meoccasionally."
To this Kenneth made no reply, while he decided that the moment was notpropitious for introducing the subject uppermost in his mind.
He conceded, however, to his father's wishes in so far as to relax fromhis objectionable posture, though there was about him a suggestion ofmartyrdom that was irritating.
"What have you been doing to-day?" asked the senior Landor, abruptly.
"Nothing special, sir."
"Do you ever do anything special?" turning two penetrating eyes uponhim.
"Why, yes; I suppose so. I was thinking of something special just now."After all, it might as well come out.
"If it is of any importance, I should like to hear about it."
This was encouraging.
"I was thinking of a trip around the world, sir. To start in a month,say, and be gone two or three years."
Mr. Landor received this proposition with a quick drawing down of hisshaggy eyebrows and a closer upturning of his fur collar about his chin.His face now was almost hidden from view.
"Do you propose to go alone?" he asked.
"No; two fellows at the Aldine Club have talked me into joining them. Ofcourse, sir, I realize you may object to so long an absence," saidKenneth, who felt that a storm was brewing, "and I might be able to makeit a year or so if you preferred."
"Inasmuch as you have scarcely been at home a month in the past year orso, I should prefer that you dismiss the project altogether."
"That seems rather surprising, sir," said Kenneth, with a laugh hisfather did not like, "when I have been going and coming without commentever since I left college."
"All the more reason why you should begin to think of settling down,"replied his father testily.
"Settling down?" repeated the son; "what do you want me to do?"
"We will come to that later. The main thing is, that you are to give upthis notion and remain here with me. If you force me to it I shallrefuse to give you the money for such an expedition."
"I have some property of my own," Kenneth said, his whole nature risingin rebellion.
"You wouldn't be such a fool as to squander that pittance on a pleasuretrip! Be careful, Kenneth! I am in no mood to be thwarted to-day!"
"Then why do you thwart me? It is not a remarkable thing for a man towant to travel," trying to speak calmly, "and I don't see why you shouldtake it in this unexpected way--it is unreasonable."
But Mr. Landor, being a quick-tempered man, was beyond reason and hadtoo little comprehension of his son to realize that his oppositiontended to fan into a fixed resolve what had up to this time been only apleasing possibility. There was a stern look about his mouth as he saidto Kenneth, "You will do as I say, and remain for the present in Radnor.I have other plans for you."
As he had never been dictated to in his life, this emphatic order fellwith considerable astonishment upon Kenneth's ears, even though he knewhis father to be in an irascible frame of mind. He thought, however,that the thing might blow over, as many a quarrel between them had blownover, after which, in all these contests of will, the younger man hadinvariably gained the day.
Kenneth was not of an ugly disposition; indeed, his nature was mostlovable, while his peculiar exemption from responsibility had producedan inconsequential, happy-go-lucky attitude toward life that was one ofhis greatest charms. And the selfishness that sometimes cropped out inhis character was not viciousness, but the natural outcome ofover-indulgence. It had never occurred to him that his father would makeany demands upon him, though in a vague, unformed sort of way heintended ultimately to make demands upon himself. Just how he should dothis gave him occasional delightfully introspective moments in which heplayed with possibilities. In his father's eyes that was Kenneth's greatweakness--that he played with all the abandon of a vagabond; but toblame the man for this was a great injustice, since his father had notsuggested or encouraged his taking up any business or profession, andhad supplied him with a liberal income dating back to the beginning ofhis college career.
To this indolent, pleasure-loving son, nothing could be in greatercontrast than the father. Caleb Landor took life hard, but life had beenhard on him. Born of poor parents in a Maine village, he had been inuredto poverty from his infancy. His schooling had been meager, andsandwiched in between long periods when he was required to lend a handin the saw-mill where his father was employed. But the habit of industrythus acquired proved useful, and stimulated his desire to get into theworld of business, so that he made his way eventually to Radnor, thegoal of his ambition. Then followed years of hard work and small pay,during which the greater part of his earnings went down to the largefamily in the Maine village. At thirty he was looked upon as a man ofability; at forty he was a prosperous merchant, with Fortune beckoninghim on. By all the laws of compensation this should have been histurning point to happiness, but he had the misfortune to be married forhis money at this period of his career, by a frivolous Radnor girl ofgood position, whose beauty turned his head. As after the first monthsof marriage she took no pains to conceal her indifference to him, hereceived a bitter blow, from which he was many years recovering. He wasspared, however, the anguish of protracted disappointment, for she haddied in the second year of their marriage, leaving him a baby son. Andso Caleb, giving all, lost what he had never won.
This episode in his life did not tend to soften a nature somewhat moroseand caused him to draw more and more within himself, devoting hisenergies to his business, and almost forgetting at times that he was afather.
When he did think of Kenneth, it was to realize that he had his mother'sbeauty; but even at an early age there was no indication that he hadinherited her smallness of mind, for which his father felt devoutlygrateful, though there were times when he could scarcely bear the boyabout, so forcibly did his likeness to his mother bring back the past.So he left him to grow up among the servants in the dreary house, senthim at fourteen to a preparatory school and then to college. He intendedthat Kenneth should have everything he himself had missed. In the matterof money it pleased him to provide generously for the lad, who grew tomanhood the envy and favorite of all his associates, but almost astranger to his father, who was equally a stranger to him. It did notoccur to Caleb Landor that this was because he had given to the boylavishly of everything except himself.
When the carriage drew up before their door on the evening with whichthis chapter opens, Kenneth sprang out with a feeling of relief andturned to help his father. It struck him suddenly that he looked old andfeeble, which would not be strange, inasmuch as he was fast approachinghis seventieth birthday, but Kenneth h
ad never been impressed by thisbefore.
"You had better take my arm, sir," he said, pleasantly, "the sidewalk isslippery to-night."
Mr. Landor refused the proffered aid and went on ahead into the house.He had yet to learn that Kenneth could be leaned upon.
Through dinner there was little conversation between them, not from anyconstraint arising out of the recent disagreement, but because each wasin the habit of carrying on his own inward train of thought without somuch as a suspicion that the outward expression of it would have been ofinterest to the other. But it would have been of interest. Kenneth oftenwondered what his father's opinions were on the topics of the day andmany times would have broken the oppressive silence if the idea had notbecome fixed in his mind that his father built up this barrier ofreserve from choice. It was a natural impression, but a wrong one, andled to many misunderstandings, for though he gave his son noencouragement to be communicative he secretly longed for hiscompanionship and was beginning to feel a need of his presence in thehouse.
Kenneth went to a couple of receptions that evening and looked in at adance later on; but did not remain long, for things of this sort boredhim, albeit he was very popular in Radnor society.
As he entered the house after midnight he noticed a bright light in hisfather's room. This was so unusual an occurrence that he fearedsomething might be wrong and ventured to knock at the door. There was noresponse, which was not reassuring, so he opened the door and walked in.In a big chintz-covered chair sat Mr. Landor asleep before the fire. Hehad undressed and was enveloped in a heavy dressing-gown that fell awayat the neck, disclosing the throat upon which Time lays such relentlessfingers. He stirred a little and Kenneth was about to leave the roomsatisfied that his father was all right and would probably resent thisintrusion, when the older man woke with a start, and accosting him in atone more curious than resentful, said, "What are you doing in here?"
"I noticed your light, and thought you might be ill. Is there anything Ican do for you before I turn in?" replied Kenneth, looking down from theheight of his six feet upon the shrunken figure of his father.
"Nothing at all, nothing at all," waving him off; "I am reading." Hepicked up the newspaper that had fallen to the floor, and becamesuddenly absorbed in it, after the manner of persons who object to beingcaught napping.
A smile flickered about Kenneth's well-shaped mouth but was properlysuppressed. There was something pathetic, almost appealing to himto-night about his father.
"If you are not in any particular hurry to finish your paper may I stopa moment?" he said.
"There is a chair--make yourself comfortable."
"I would like to talk about those plans you spoke of this afternoon,"began Kenneth as soon as he was seated. "I wish very much you would tellme more about them--what your idea is for my immediate future."
"Where are your own ideas? At twenty-eight a man must have a few." Mr.Landor kicked a log impatiently, sending up a shower of sparks.
"We were speaking of your ideas, were we not, sir? Mine can come later."
"So you have some, have you? Good! After all, with your education andadvantages it is to be expected. But as your ideas are to be kept toyourself, so are mine. We will talk no further on this subject."
"We _will_ talk on this subject," said Kenneth, rising and standing withhead erect and flashing eyes. "I am not a boy, father, as you very wellknow, and I shall not consent to this sort of thing for a moment. If youhave anything in your mind regarding me it is my right to know it, andyour duty to tell me. You spoke to-day of my settling down. I have beenthinking of it a good deal since, and I am inclined to think you areright about it; but I would like to know just what you mean--just whatit is you want me to do."
"Kenneth, I want you around." The words came in a muffled tone that wasscarcely audible.
"Want me around?" repeated Kenneth incredulously; "why, I thought Idrove you to desperation with my lazy ways and erratic hours and generalworthlessness."
"So you do, so you do," gruffly, "but I like it. I like to know you arein the house. Stay around, Kenneth and you can have things pretty muchyour own way. We will say no more about settling down to business."
"Oh! that is all right, father; I'll stay." It was a new sensation tofind that he was wanted. Moved by a sudden impulse he drew near meaningto grip his father's hand--the desire was strong within him to get closeto the old man. But when he neared the chair he turned sharply on hisheel and crossed to the door, withheld by the habit of years.
Mr. Landor was watching him through half-closed lids, and made no sign.
"Good night, father; glad I found you up. I have something in mind Iwould like to discuss with you later if I am to stay on here."
"Any time, any time. I have leisure enough for anything of importance.Come in again some time--good night." His head was turned away as hespoke.
"Poor old governor," thought Kenneth, as he went to his room; "I believehe is lonely."
When the door had closed, Caleb Landor sat some moments in deepmeditation. Then he rose and slowly crossed the room to a table on whichstood a box-shaped rosewood writing-desk curiously inlaid withpearl--the most treasured possession of his mother long since dead. Thishe unlocked, and lifting the lid pressed a small knob by means of whicha secret drawer flew open. In this shallow receptacle lay an ovalminiature which the man took out and held under the strong light of thegas jet. It was the face of a woman, young and very beautiful, and for along while the image held the man transfixed. Once he lifted his headsuddenly, as if he thought some one was approaching but it was only thenoise of Kenneth's boots flung upon the floor in an adjoining room. Onthe mantel a clock ticked solemnly, warning him of the flight of time,and at last he sighed wearily, and with unsteady hands dropped theminiature into its hiding place and locked the desk. For a moment heleaned heavily on the table and appeared to be listening, but all wasstill in Kenneth's room. Over the stern impassive features of CalebLandor came a look of yearning tenderness. Then he put out the gas andwent to bed.
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