Agatha Webb
Page 33
XXXIII
FATHER AND SON
But Frederick's day of trial was not yet over. There was a closed doorto open and a father to see (as in his heart he still called Mr.Sutherland). Then there were friends to face, and foes, under conditionshe better than anyone else, knew were in some regards made worse ratherthan better by the admissions and revelations of this eventfulday--Agnes, for instance. How could he meet her pure gaze? But it washis father he must first confront, his father to whom he would have torepeat in private the tale which robbed the best of men of a past, andtook from him a son, almost a wife, without leaving him one memorycalculated to console him. Frederick was so absorbed in thisanticipation that he scarcely noticed the two or three timid handsstretched out in encouragement toward him, and was moving slowly towardthe door behind which his father had disappeared so many hours before,when he was recalled to the interests of the moment by a single word,uttered not very far from him. It was simply, "Well?" But it was utteredby Knapp and repeated by Mr. Courtney.
Frederick shuddered, and was hurrying on when he found himself stoppedby a piteous figure that, with appealing eyes and timid gestures,stepped up before him. It was Amabel.
"Forgive!" she murmured, looking like a pleading saint. "I did notknow--I never dreamed--you were so much of a man, Frederick: that youbore such a heart, cherished such griefs, were so worthy of love and awoman's admiration. If I had--"
Her expression was eloquent, more eloquent than he had ever seen it, forit had real feeling in it; but he put her coldly by.
"When my father's white hairs become black again, and the story of myshame is forgotten in this never-forgetting world, then come back and Iwill forgive you."
And he was passing on when another touch detained him. He turned, thistime in some impatience, only to meet the frank eyes of Sweetwater. Ashe knew very little of this young man, save that he was the amateurdetective who had by some folly of his own been carried off on theHesper, and who was probably the only man saved from its wreck, he wasabout to greet him with some commonplace phrase of congratulation, whenSweetwater interrupted him with the following words:
"I only wanted to say that it may be easier for you to approach yourfather with the revelations you are about to make if you knew that inhis present frame of mind he is much more likely to be relieved by suchproofs of innocence as you can give him than overwhelmed by such as showthe lack of kinship between you. For two weeks Mr. Sutherland has beenbending under the belief of your personal criminality in this matter.This was his secret, which was shared by me."
"By you?"
"Yes, by me! I am more closely linked to this affair than you canreadily imagine. Some day I may be able to explain myself, but not now.Only remember what I have said about your father--pardon me, I shouldperhaps say Mr. Sutherland--and act accordingly. Perhaps it was to tellyou this that I was forced back here against my will by the strangestseries of events that ever happened to a man. But," he added, with asidelong look at the group of men still hovering about the coroner'stable, "I had rather think it was for some more important office still.But this the future will show,--the future which I seem to see loweringin the faces over there."
And, waiting for no reply, he melted into the crowd.
Frederick passed at once to his father.
No one interrupted them during this solemn interview, but the largecrowd that in the halls and on the steps of the building awaitedFrederick's reappearance showed that the public interest was still warmin a matter affecting so deeply the heart and interests of their bestcitizen. When, therefore, that long-closed door finally opened andFrederick was seen escorting Mr. Sutherland on his arm, the tide offeeling which had not yet subsided since Agatha's letters were readvented itself in one great sob of relief. For Mr. Sutherland's face wascalmer than when they had last seen it, and his step more assured, andhe leaned, or made himself lean, on Frederick's arm, as if to impressupon all who saw them that the ties of years cannot be shaken off soeasily, and that he still looked upon Frederick as his son.
But he was not contented with this dumb show, eloquent as it was. As thecrowd parted and these two imposing figures took their way down thesteps to the carriage which had been sent for them, Mr. Sutherland castone deep and long glance about him on faces he knew and on faces he didnot know, on those who were near and those who were far, and raising hisvoice, which did not tremble as much as might have been expected, saiddeliberately:
"My son accompanies me to his home. If he should afterwards be wanted,he will be found at his own fireside. Good-day, my friends. I thank youfor the goodwill you have this day shown us both."
Then he entered the carriage.
The solemn way in which Frederick bared his head in acknowledgment ofthis public recognition of the hold he still retained on this onefaithful heart, struck awe into the hearts of all who saw it. So thatthe carriage rolled off in silence, closing one of the most thrillingand impressive scenes ever witnessed in that time-worn village.