Sons and Fathers. Edwards Harry Stillwell

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      "I am not in business," said the other. "I am a nephew of John Morgan, of Macon. I suppose you must have known him."

      "Yes, indeed."

      "And am going out to wind up his affairs. I have been abroad and have only just returned. The news of his death was quite a surprise to me. I had not been informed that he was ill."

      "Then you are the heir of John Morgan?"

      "I am told so. It is but three days now since I reached this country, and I have no information except as contained in a brief notice from attorneys."

      "How long since you have seen him?"

      "I have never seen him – at least not since I was an infant, if then. My parents left me to his care. I have spent my life in schools until six or seven years ago, when, after graduating at Harvard and then at Columbia college in law, I went abroad. Have never seen so much as the picture of my uncle. I applied to him for one through his New York lawyer once, sending a new one of myself, and he replied that he had too much respect for art to have his taken."

      "That sounds like him," and Montjoy laughed heartily. "He was a florid, sandy-haired man, with eyes always half-closed against the light, stout and walked somewhat heavily. He has been a famous criminal lawyer, but for many years has not seemed to care for practice. He was a heavy drinker, but with all that you could rely implicitly upon what he said. He left a large property, I presume?"

      "So I infer." Edward looked out of the window, but presently resumed the conversation.

      "My uncle stood well in the community, I suppose?"

      "Oh, yes; we have lost a good citizen. Do you expect to make your home with us?"

      "That depends upon circumstances. Very likely I shall."

      "I see! Well, sir, I trust you will. The Morgan place is a nice one and has been closed to the young people too long."

      "I am afraid they will not find me very gay." A shadow flitted over his face, blotting out the faint smile.

      The towns and villages glided away.

      Edward Morgan noticed that there was little paint upon the country houses, and that the fences were gone from the neighborhoods. And then the sun sank below the black cloud, painting its peaks with gold, and filling the caverns with yellow light; church spires, tall buildings and electric-light towers filed by with solemn dignity and then stood motionless. The journey was at an end.

      "My home is six miles out," said Montjoy, "and if you will go with me I shall be glad to have you. It is quite a ride, but anything is preferable to the hotels."

      Morgan's face lighted up quickly at this unexpected courtesy.

      "Thank you," he said "but I don't mind the hotels. I have never had any other home, sir, except boarding houses." Through his smile there fell the little, destroying shadow. Montjoy had not expected him to accept, but he turned now, with his winning manner.

      "Well, then, I insist. We shall find a wagon waiting outside, and to-morrow I am coming in and shall bring you back. We will have to get acquainted some of these days, and there is nothing like making an early start." He was already heading for the sidewalk; his company was as sunlight and Morgan was tempted to stay in the sunlight.

      "Then I shall go," he said. "You are very kind."

      A four-seated vehicle stood outside and by it a little old negro, who laughed as Montjoy rapidly approached.

      "Well, Isam," he said, tossing his bag in, "how are all at home?"

      "Dey's all well."

      "By the way, Mr. Morgan, we shall leave your trunks, but I can supply you with everything for a 'one-night stand.'"

      "I have a valise that will answer, if there is room."

      "Plenty. Let Isam have the check and he will get it." While Morgan was feeling for his bit of brass Isam continued:

      "Miss Annie will be mighty glad to see you. Sent me in here now goin' on fo' times an' gettin' madder – "

      "That's all right; here's the check; hurry up." The negro started off rapidly.

      "Drive by the club, Isam," he said, when the negro had resumed the lines. "I reckon we'll be too late for supper at home; better get it in town."

      "Miss Mary save supper for you, sho', Marse Norton."

      "Save, the mischief! Go ahead!" The single horse moved forward in a dignified trot.

      As they entered the club several young men were grouped near a center table. There was a vista of open doors, a glimmer of cards and the crash of billiards. Montjoy walked up and dropped his hat on the table. There followed a general handshaking. Edward Morgan noticed that they greeted him with cordiality. Then he saw his manner change and he turned with a show of formality.

      "Gentlemen, this is my friend, Mr. Morgan, a nephew of Col. John Morgan." He rapidly pronounced the names of those present, and each shook the newcomer's hand. At the same time Morgan felt their sudden scrutiny, but it was brief. Montjoy rang the bell.

      "What are you going to have, gentlemen? John," to the old waiter, "how are you, John?"

      "First rate, Marse Norton; first rate." The old man bowed and smiled.

      "Take these orders, John. Five toddies, one Rhine wine, and hurry, John! Oh, John!" The worthy came back. "There is only one mistake you can make with mine; take care about the water!"

      "All right, sah, all right! Dare won't be any!"

      Montjoy ordered a tremendous supper, as he called it, and while waiting the half-hour for its preparation, several of the party repeated the order for refreshments, it appeared to the stranger, with something like anxiety. It was as though they feared an opportunity to return the courtesies they had accepted would not be given. None joined them at supper, but when the newcomers were seated one of the gentlemen lounged near and dropping into a seat renewed the conversation that had been interrupted. Champagne had been added to the supper and this gentleman yielded at length to Montjoy's demand and joined them.

      The conversation ran upon local politics until Morgan began to feel the isolation. He took to studying the new man and presently felt the slight, inexplicable prejudice that he had formed upon the introduction, wearing away. The man was tall, dark and straightly built, probably thirty years of age, with fine eyes and unchanging countenance. He did but little talking, and when he spoke it was with great deliberation and positiveness. If there were an unpleasant shading of character written there it was in the mouth, which, while not ill-formed, seemed to promise a relentless disposition. But the high and noble forehead redeemed it all. This man was now addressing him:

      "You will remain some time in Macon, Mr. Morgan?"

      The voice possessed but few curves; it grated a trifle upon the stranger.

      "I cannot tell as yet," he said; "I do not know what will be required of me."

      "Well, I shall be pleased to see you at my place of business whenever you find an opportunity of calling. Norton, bring Mr. Morgan down to see me."

      He laid his card by Edward and bade them good-evening. Looking over his plate, the latter read H. R. Barksdale, president A. F. & C. railroad. СКАЧАТЬ