My Brave and Gallant Gentleman Part 37

I almost wearied for his coming, for he was entertaining and uplifting.

He, somehow, had the happy knack of instilling fresh energy, fresh ambition, fresh hope, into every one with whom he came in contact.

His noisy launch at last came chug-chugging up the Bay. He started with the far point of the Crescent and called at every creek, cove and landing at which there was a home. Then he crept along the sh.o.r.e-line to Jake's place.

My turn next,--I soliloquised. But, no!--he held out, waving his hand in salutation.

It was evidently his intention to make a call on Miss Grant before finis.h.i.+ng his Sabbath labours at my bungalow.

He stayed there a long time: so long, that I was beginning to give up hope of his ever getting my length; but, finally, his cheery voice hailed me from my doorway and roused my drooping spirits.

His pale, gentle face was wreathed in smiles.

"Good boy! Good boy!" he commented. "G.o.d bless you! He is blessing you,--eh, George!"

"How is the lady?" I inquired.

"Almost as well as ever," he replied. "She has had a severe shake-up though. It must have been touch and go.

"She was up, George, and talked to me. She told me everything she could remember; how she refused to take your well-intentioned advice, and suffered the consequences of her folly. She gave me this note for you."

He held out an envelope and I took it and put it in my pocket.

He raised his eyebrows, "Read it, man;--read it."

"It will do later, Mr. Auld;--there is no hurry."

He shook his old, grey head in surprise.

"Well,--well,--well," he exclaimed.

"Have you visited the Clarks yet, George?" he asked after a pause.

"Yes!"

"And what did you find there?"

"Discord," I answered.

"So you know all about it, eh!"

"You are a minister of G.o.d, Mr. Auld; you have influence with such a man as Andrew Clark. Surely you can move him from the d.a.m.nable position he has taken up?"

"I would to G.o.d I could," he said fervently. "For ten years, I have preached to him, scolded him, cajoled him, threatened him with h.e.l.l-fire and ever-lasting torment; yes! I have even refused to dispense the sacrament to him unless he relented, but I might as well have expended my energies on The Ghoul Rock out there at the opening to the Bay."

"But he professes to be a good Christian, Mr. Auld," I put in.

"Yes! and no man on the coast tries to live a good life more than he does. I am sure, every moment of his life he deeply regrets the rash vow he made, but he believes, in the sight of G.o.d, he is doing right in keeping to it. He is obsessed.

"Now, George,--what is there left for me to try?"

"Physical force," I exclaimed angrily.

"George,--" he said, almost horrified, "it is not for a minister of the gospel to think of violence."

"Why not?" I went on. "Andrew Clark is slowly torturing his wife to death. Surely, if there ever was an occasion,--this is it! A few days' violence may save years of torture to both and, maybe, save his eternal soul besides."

He sat in silence for a while, then he startled me.

"Come, boy! You have a scheme in your head. Tell me what it is, and,--may G.o.d forgive me if I do wrong,--but, if it appeals to me as likely to move that old, living block of Aberdeen granite, or even to cause a few hours' joy to his dear, patient wife, Margaret, I'll carry it through if I can."

I unfolded what had been in my mind.

"What do you think of it?" I asked.

He shook his head dubiously.

"It is dangerous; it is violent; it is not what a minister is expected to do to any of his flock;--and it is only a chance that it will effect its purpose."

"Where would you put him?" I asked, as if he had agreed.

He smiled.

"Oh!--there is the log cabin at the back of the farm, where he keeps nothing but an incubator. It has a heavy door and only a small window.

"Man,--if we could inveigle him in there!"

The Rev. William Auld positively chuckled as he thought of it.

I knew then that he was not so very far away from his schoolboy days, despite his age and experiences.

"When can we start in?"

He thought a little.

"The sooner the better," he said. "Joe is busy towing booms this week and there is no possible chance of his coming home. I am not too busy and can spare the part of three or four consecutive days for the job.

"If we can only get Margaret and Rita to agree."

"I can guarantee Rita," I said.

"And I can coerce Margaret," he put in.

"We'll arrange with the women folks to-morrow sometime, and we'll tackle poor old Andrew the following afternoon."

The minister waited and had tea with me. It was late when he took his departure.

Just as I was tumbling into bed, I remembered Mary Grant's letter. I took it out of my coat pocket and opened it. It was not a letter, after all; merely a note.