A Debt of Honor. Horatio Alger Jr.
outside. He is waiting to know if you will see him.”
“Yes, yes; bring him in at once.”
Gerald went to the door, and beckoned to Wentworth, who rose immediately and passed into the cabin.
“Bradley Wentworth,” said the invalid, looking up excitedly, “I am glad to see you. I thank you for obeying my summons.”
Even Wentworth, callous to suffering and selfish as he was, was shocked by the fragile appearance of his old companion.
“You look very weak,” he said.
“Yes, Bradley. I am very weak. I stand at the portal of the unseen land. My days are numbered. Any day may bring the end.”
“I am shocked to see you in this condition,” and there was momentary feeling in the tone of the world-hardened man.
“Don’t pity me! I am not reluctant to die. Gerald, you may leave me alone with Mr. Wentworth for a while. I wish to have some conversation with him.”
“Very well, father.”
“Have you acquainted him with the incidents of our early life?” asked Bradley Wentworth, referring to Gerald with a frown.
“Not until this morning. Then, not knowing but I might be cut off suddenly, and uncertain whether you would answer my call, I told him the story.”
“Better have left it untold!” said Wentworth with an uneasy look.
“Nay, he was entitled to know, otherwise he might not have understood why it was that I had buried him and myself here in this wilderness.”
“He would have supposed that you came here for your health. I understand that Colorado is very favorable to those having pulmonary diseases.”
“Yes, but he was entitled to know my past history. He was entitled to know what a sacrifice I had made – for another.”
Bradley Wentworth winced at this allusion, and his forehead involuntarily contracted.
“That is your way of looking at it,” he said abruptly.
“It is the true way of looking at it,” rejoined the sick man firmly.
“Hush!” said Wentworth, looking apprehensively towards the door of the cabin.
“Gerald knows all, and he is the only one to hear. But to resume: I saved you from disgrace and disinheritance. I did so against my wishes, because your need was so great, and you solemnly promised to provide handsomely for me and mine when you came into your fortune.”
“I was ready to promise anything in my extremity. You took advantage of my position.”
“The bargain I made was a fair one. It touches but one-sixteenth of the fortune which you inherited. Bradley Wentworth, it was and is a debt of honor!”
“To talk of my giving you such a sum is perfect nonsense!” said Wentworth roughly.
“You did not regard it in that light fifteen years since,” returned the sick man reproachfully.
“Of course I admit that you did me a service, and I am ready to pay for it. Give me the papers and I will give you a thousand dollars.”
“A thousand dollars in repayment of my great sacrifice! Have riches made you narrow and mean?”
“Riches have not made me a fool!” retorted Wentworth. “Let me tell you that a thousand dollars is no small sum. It will give that boy of yours a great start in life. It is more than you and I had at his age.”
“You have a son, have you not?”
“Yes.”
“How would you regard a thousand dollars as a provision for him?”
“There is some difference between the position of my son and yours,” said Wentworth arrogantly.
“You are fortunate if your son equals mine in nobility of character.”
“Oh, I have no doubt your son is a paragon,” said Wentworth with a sneer. “But to the point! I will give you a thousand dollars and not a cent more.”
He had hardly finished this sentence when he started in affright. Warren Lane fell back in his chair in a state of insensibility.
CHAPTER IV
COMPARING NOTES
“Is he dead?” Wentworth asked himself, with sudden hope, for the demise of Warren Lane would remove all danger.
He bent forward, to see if the sick man yet breathed.
“He’s only fainted,” he said to himself in disappointment.
Then a cunning scheme flashed upon him.
“Perhaps I can find the papers while he is unconscious,” he thought.
He stepped hastily to the bureau, and opened the drawers one after the other, peering here and there in the hope of seeing the important documents.
It was while he was thus occupied that Gerald opened the door.
“What are you doing, Mr. Wentworth?” he asked in a clear, incisive voice.
Bradley Wentworth turned, and his face betrayed marks of confusion.
“Your father has fainted,” he said, “and I am looking for some restorative – have you any salts, or hartshorn?”
Gerald hurried to his father’s chair in sudden alarm.
“Father,” he said anxiously, and placed his hand on the insensible man’s forehead.
“Get some water,” said Wentworth – ”bathe his face.”
This seemed good advice, and Gerald followed it. In a short time his father opened his eyes and looked about him in a dazed fashion.
“How do you feel, father? What made you faint?” asked Gerald.
“I dreamed that Bradley Wentworth was here, and that we had a discussion. He – he would not agree to my terms.”
“He is here,” said Gerald, and Wentworth came forward.
“Then – it is all real.”
“Yes,” said Wentworth, “but you are in no condition to talk. Let us defer our conversation.”
“Alas! I do not know how much time I have left – ”
“You can rely upon me to be a friend to your son, Lane.”
“And yet – ”
“Don’t let us go into details. You are not strong enough to talk at present. I am sure Gerald will agree with me.”
“Yes, father,” said Gerald. “Mr. Wentworth is right. Wait till this afternoon. I want to come in and cook the trout. It is high time for dinner.”
“You say well, Gerald,” put in Wentworth. “I don’t mind confessing that I am almost famished. If there were a hotel near I wouldn’t encroach upon your hospitality. As it is, I admit that a dinner of trout would be most appetizing. And now, if you don’t mind, I will go outside and smoke a cigar while your son is preparing it.”
“That will be best, Mr. Wentworth,” said Gerald approvingly. “If you remain here father will be talking, and he has already exhausted his strength.”
“I will take a little walk,” said Wentworth, as he stepped out of the cabin, “but I won’t be away more than half an hour.”
“Very well, sir.”
When Wentworth was at a safe distance Gerald advanced to his father’s chair, and said in a low voice: “Father, I distrust that man. When I came into the room he was searching the bureau drawer.”
Warren Lane nodded.
“He was after the papers,” he said. “He offered me a thousand dollars for them.”
“And you declined?”
“Yes: