Floyd Grandon's Honor Part 10

A great disappointment awaits Floyd. Mr. St. Vincent started an hour ago for Canada, to bring his daughter home, who has been educated in a convent. "But ma'm'selle is a Protestant, like her father," says the old lady, with a sigh.

Then Floyd Grandon betakes himself to the factory. Eugene is out. He has no fancy for discussing matters with Wilmarth at present, so he returns home and busies himself in fitting up a study in one of the tower rooms. Rummaging through the attic he finds an old secretary of Aunt Marcia's, and unearths other treasures that quite stir his sister's envy.

"For those old things are all coming back," she says in a tone of poignant regret, whether at this fact or at the realization of the loss of them he is not quite certain.

The house is quiet and delightful. Marcia amuses him with her artistic flights and wild fancies. Floyd thinks if she would confine herself to the work she could do really well she would be a success, but her ambition is so tinctured with every new view that she never quite settles, but flutters continually.

That evening Floyd resolves to bring Eugene to a sense of what lies actually before him. He evades at first, fidgets, and grows unmistakably cross.

"The family expenses, Eugene,--how have they been met?" questions the elder steadily.

"They haven't been met at all," says Eugene. "There has only been money enough to pay the men and all that. I told you Laura couldn't have her money. But there was no use breaking up the family,--where could they have gone?"

"I think, then, there has been a good deal of extravagance," is Floyd's decisive comment. "There are five horses in the stable, and four servants. I cannot afford such an establishment."

"Oh, I say, Floyd, don't turn a miserable hunks of a miser the first thing, when you have such a splendid fortune! I wouldn't grudge anything with all that money in my hand."

"Some of it will go rapidly enough. I shall pay Gertrude and Marcia their first instalment, as I have Laura, and my mother must have something. Then, the house debts; do you know where the bills are?"

With Mrs. Grandon's help they get the bills together, and there are some still to come in.

"Of course the house is yours," says his mother in a sharp tone. "You may wish to marry again----"

That is so far from Floyd's thoughts that he shakes his head impatiently and replies,--

"The thing to be considered is _who_ is to provide for the family. If the business cannot do it at present, I shall. But it will have to be done within _my_ income. My own habits are not extravagant----"

"Well, I should say!" and Eugene laughs immoderately. "A man who travels round the world like a prince, who buys everything he chooses, joins exploring expeditions with lords and marquises, keeps a maid for his daughter,--you have not arrived at that dignity, mother mine?"

"I do not think the maid for my daughter will cost more than one fast horse, Eugene."

"O boys, do not quarrel!" entreats their mother.

"I hope I shall never quarrel," says Floyd, in a steadfast, rea.s.suring tone. "I could lay down my father's charge, he gives me that privilege if I find I cannot save the business without spending my private fortune. If you would rather have me withdraw----"

"Oh, no! no!" cries his mother. She has felt for some time that they were steadily going to ruin under Eugene's _regime_, but he is her idol and she loves him with a curious pride that could deny him nothing; would not even blame him, and wishes him to be prosperous. "I really think you would have no right, Floyd."

"Then if I must work, if I must give my time, interest, and money, I shall have to know how everything stands. I shall have to provide to the best of _my_ judgment. You _must_ all trust in me, and believe that I am acting for your welfare."

There is no affirmative to this, and Floyd feels really hurt. Eugene sits rolling the corner of the rug under his foot with a kind of vicious force, and is sulkily silent.

"Your father expected, Floyd----" and Mrs. Grandon buries her face in her hands, giving way to tears.

"My dear mother, I shall do everything my father desired, if it is in my power. Eugene," suddenly, "how does Mr. Wilmarth propose to meet this note?"

"Don't worry about the note. You must admit that he knows more about the business than you."

"Very well," Floyd returns, with ominous calmness. "I will pay up the house bills to-morrow, and there will be no change until after Laura's marriage. Let us remember that our interests are identical, that one cannot suffer without the other. Good night."

He bends over to kiss his mother, and leaves the room. He had never mistrusted before that his soul was unduly sensitive, his temper bad, his patience of a poor quality. He is tempted to make a rush back to the old, free, wandering life. But if he does, the family portion will be ruin. He cannot be indifferent to their welfare, nor to the fact that if events go wrongly he will be blamed.

He goes at the business promptly the next morning. With Mr. Conner's a.s.sistance he pays Marcia's and Gertrude's portion, and reinvests it.

They can have the interest or squander the princ.i.p.al. He calls on several tradesmen and takes their receipts. The note is still a matter of perplexity, and Mr. Connery is appointed to confer with the holder and ask him to meet Mr. Floyd Grandon. Then he settles about a strip of land for which he has been offered a fabulous sum, it seems to him.

This will give him all the ready money he will need at present.

Marcia is effusively grateful. "You dear, dear Floyd!" And she kisses him with the ardor of sixteen. "_Now_ I can have a glorious summer. A party of us planned an artistic tour, camping out, living with Nature, and wresting her secrets of tone and color from her, studying in the dim, cathedral like recesses of the woods, apart from the glare and conventionalism of the heartless world----"

"I want you to understand this matter," interrupts Grandon. "It is an excellent investment. Very few sure things pay eight per cent. You will have just four hundred dollars a year for pin money," laughingly. "I think I had better lend you a little at present, so that you will not need to break into your princ.i.p.al. How much will this summering cost?"

"Oh," says Marcia, airily, "two hundred, perhaps. We shall be simple and frugal."

"Then I will write a check for that." He smiles a little to himself.

Has any member of the family the least idea of the value of money?

Gertrude is surprised and frightened. "I'm sure, Floyd," and she is half crying, "that I don't want to go away. If you _did_ marry I should never meddle or make trouble, but I would like to stay. Any room would do for me, and a few books----"

"I'm not married yet," he replies, rather brusquely. Do they suppose he means to turn them all out of the house the very first thing?

Laura and madame come home that evening, and the young girl is in a whirl of delight. Madame Lepelletier is the incarnation of all the virtues and graces. They have done wonders in shopping. Such robes, such marvels, such satins and laces and delights dear to the feminine eye, and not half the money spent! Laura's joy raises the depressing atmosphere of the house. Then madame has offered to supervise the workwomen at home, and altogether Laura will be a gorgeous bride.

Floyd hunts up his trinkets. There is an elegant lapis-lazuli necklace, there are some curious Egyptian bracelets, with scarabaei that will render her the envy of her little world. There are some unset emeralds, opals, and various curious gems of more value to a cabinet than to a woman of fas.h.i.+on. A few diamonds and sapphires, but these he shall save for Cecil.

Laura helps herself plentifully, and Marcia is tempted by a few. Madame Lepelletier would like to check this lavish generosity; there may be some one beside Cecil, one day. Floyd Grandon puzzles her. As a general thing she has found men quite ready to go down to her, sometimes when they had no right. But she decides within herself that his affairs need a mistress at their head, that his child will be quite spoiled by the exclusive attention he gives her, and that she could minister wisely and well. She is a prudent and ambitious woman. She does not sow money broadcast like the Grandon girls, but gets the full worth of it everywhere. More than all, Floyd Grandon has stirred her very being. In those old days she might have liked him, now she could love him with all the depth of a woman's soul. Her French marriage never touched her very deeply, so she seems quite heart-free, ready to begin from the very first of love and sound the notes through the whole octave.

But Floyd keeps so curiously out of the way. His study is so apart, he is writing, or out on business, or walking with Cecil. There is a good deal of company in the evening, but he manages to be engaged. At times she fairly hates this wedding fuss over which she smiles so serenely.

"Eugene," Floyd begins, one morning, "I have just had a note from Briggs & Co. One member of the firm will be here to-morrow. I have advised them that their money is in Mr. Connery's hands, and I pay the note for Grandon & Co. When Mr. St. Vincent returns we will go over matters thoroughly and see what state the business really is in."

Eugene has turned red and pale, and now his face is very white and his eyes flash with anger.

"I told you to let that alone!" he flings out. "All the arrangements have been made. Wilmarth has the money."

"I prefer to loan it, instead of having Wilmarth."

"You can't, you shall not," declares Eugene. "I have--the thing is settled. You have no real business with the firm's affairs."

"You are mistaken there. You have admitted that there was barely enough coming in to pay current expenses, and nothing toward meeting the note.

You cannot mortgage or dispose of any part without my advice or consent. I can offer this loan, which I do for a number of years, then there will be no pressing demand----"

Eugene looks thunderstruck; no other word expresses the surprise and alarm.

"You cannot do it!" he says hoa.r.s.ely, "because--because--well, I hate the whole thing! I've no head for it! You will have to know to-morrow; I have sold half my share to Wilmarth."

"For what amount?" quietly asks the elder brother.

"Twelve thousand dollars."

Floyd has had one talk with Wilmarth of an extremely discouraging nature. Now it seems to him if Wilmarth is willing to invest more deeply, he cannot consider it quite hopeless. He _does_ distrust the man.