Chapter 21

SURPRISES

The next morning Robert Morton awoke with the fixed determination that another sun should not go down until he had acquainted Mr. Galbraith with Janoah's accusations. The misgivings, the suspicions, the fears he entertained must be cleared up at any cost or further residence beneath Willie's roof would be impossible. If necessary he would go to New York to see the financier. But he must know where the blame for Snelling's treachery lay, whether with the capitalist or with his employee. Accordingly he arose early, and having breakfasted went down to the store where the nearest telephone was and called up the Belleport residence. He was fortunate in getting Parker, the old butler, on the wire.

"Mr. Galbraith, Mr. Bob?" came the voice of the servant. "Yes, sir, he arrived home last night. I think he is going over to Wilton to-day to see you. I heard him saying something about it. Wait a minute. I hear him on the stairs now."

There was a pause; then after a delay another voice that Bob instantly recognized to be that of the master of the house called:

"Bob? Well, hello, boy! I guess you thought we had all left you and your affairs high and dry, didn't you? I've been in New York, you know--am just back. I want to see you as soon as I can about several important matters. Suppose I run over in the car this morning? Will you be there? Good! I'll see you later, then."

Robert Morton hung up the receiver and walked meditatively along the sandy road to the gray cottage. The die was cast. Whatever happened, it could not be worse than had been the days of suspense and anxiety that he had endured.

The morning was close and humid, a land breeze wafting across the fields perfumes of sun-scorched pine and blossoming roses. Scarce a ripple marred the glittering surface of the bay that stretched like a sheet of burnished brass as far as one could see. Now and then a faint zephyr, rising from the wooded slopes, swept down the hill, swirling into billows of vivid emerald the coarse salt grass that swayed on the marshes. So still it was that every whisper of the surf lapping the edge of the bar could be heard; over and over the waters stole up on the shore, fretted into foam and receded, each wave creeping rhythmically back into the deep to a song of shifting sand and pebbles. How silvery the tiny houses of the hamlet looked against the azure of the sky! The few scattered trees that had braved the onslaughts of repeated gales listed landward, but the pines sheltered in the hollows of the dunes stood erect and darkly mysterious, their plumes bending idly in the soft wind.

It was all a part of the idyl, the daydream, Robert Morton thought,--too flawless a thing to last. Willie, so childlike and simple, his kindly aunt, Delight with her rare beauty, and even the romance of his love seemed a part of its unreality. Was it not to be expected that sooner or later man with his blundering touch would destroy the loveliness, making prose of the poem? The Galbraiths, Snelling, the greed for money, Janoah's jealousy and evil suspicions--ah, it did not take long for such influences to mar the peace of a heaven and smear the grime of earth upon its fairness! Only glimpses of perfection were granted the dwellers of this planet,--quick, transient flashes that mirrored a future free from finite limitations. He who expected to remain on the heights in this world was doomed to disappointment.

Slowly he skirted the curving beach and reached the weathered cottage where the sun beat hotly down, kissing into flower every bud of the clinging roses that festooned its gray doorway. Willie welcomed him but a glory had passed from the old man's face since the conversation of the night before. How could it be otherwise? Sleepless hours had left behind them weary, careworn lines; and in the troubled depths of the blue eyes the old interrogation had once more awakened. Bob knew not how to meet its silent combat between hope and disappointment, and he hailed as a glad relief the beating echo of the Galbraiths' motor-car as it swept the horseshoe outline of the harbor and came to a stop before the gate.

Mr. Galbraith, who was alone, beckoned to him, and as the younger man climbed to the seat beside him said:

"I thought perhaps you might like to go for a spin along the shore. It is warm to-day and we shall get more breeze; besides, we can talk more freely in the automobile than here or at the Belleport house. Roger has just arrived and also Howard Snelling."

In spite of himself, Robert Morton betrayed his surprise.

"Mr. Snelling back again!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, he is down," was the laconic answer.

For all his boasted eagerness to talk, however, Richard Galbraith did not immediately avail himself of the privilege of conversation. On the contrary, as Bob shot a questioning glance toward him, he thought he detected for the first time in his life a strange uneasiness in the capitalist's habitually self-contained manner. He seemed to be framing an introduction for what he wished to say.

"I have several matters to talk over with you, Bob," he began at last in a resolute tone. "Some of them are pleasant and some of them may not, I fear, prove to be so. But we must take them as they come, and pleasant or unpleasant, I want you to believe that I have no choice but to place them before you. I have always felt for you a warm friendship, my boy, and that friendship has in no way lessened. Therefore if any word I speak causes you unhappiness, I want you to remember that I only say it because I must. We are not always permitted to readjust life according to our inclinations. Duty maps out many of our paths and we must close our lips and travel them."

He stopped as if considering how to proceed.

"While in New York," he presently resumed, "I probated Madam Lee's will. She was possessed of a large estate and knew very definitely what she wanted done with it. The will was made several years ago, and no document that I have ever seen was more specifically and conscientiously drawn up. Although she left jewels and heirlooms to my family, she left none of her other property to the Galbraiths, explaining that her daughter had all she needed and that both Cynthia and Roger had more already than was good for them." He smiled humorously. "I guessed pretty accurately what she intended to do, as some time ago we talked the matter over, and I heartily approved of her proposed bequest."

He cleared his throat and in wondering silence Robert Morton waited.

"The property was left in bulk to an old friend whom Madam Lee had known for years--some one entirely outside the family."

Bob did not speak.

"I would gladly see the Lee money administered as its owner desired to have it," Mr. Galbraith went on. "Her ideas were wise, kind, and just, and the fulfilment of her wishes would have brought to me--to us all--the greatest happiness. But since that will was made a new condition has arisen. Delight Hathaway, the child of her favorite daughter, has appeared. Had the old lady lived, I feel certain that in view of this fact she would have altered the document that this girl might inherit at least a portion of the fortune in which her mother never had any share. You knew Madam Lee very intimately, Bob--probably better than any of the rest of us. What do you think?"

The reply came without hesitation.

"I am certain Madam Lee would have seen to it that her granddaughter was provided for."

"So it seems to me," rejoined Mr. Galbraith with evident relief. "I am glad that our code of ethics agrees thus far. Now the question is, Bob, how strong are you for the right? If honorable action meant sacrifice, would you be ready to meet it?"

"I hope so," was the modest response.

"I know so," Mr. Galbraith declared earnestly, "and it is because I am so sure of it that I came to you to-day. Bob, it was to you that Madam Lee left her fortune. It was to be used for the furthering of your dearest wish because--to quote her own words--_because I love the boy as if he were of my own blood_."

As he listened, Robert Morton's eyes grew cloudy, and emotion choked his utterance until he could not speak.

Apparently Mr. Galbraith either expected no reply or tactfully interpreted his silence, for without waiting he continued:

"You can understand now, Bob, feeling toward you as we all do, that this recent family development has not been easy for us to confront. Delight Hathaway is a beautiful girl who possesses, no doubt, admirable qualities. We expect to become warmly attached to her in time. But for all her kinship she is a stranger to us while you are of our own--a brother, friend." For the first time the kind voice faltered. "I have even cherished a hope," it went on in a lower tone, "that perhaps in the future a closer bond might bind you to us. Nothing in the world would have given me greater satisfaction."

Bob suddenly felt the blood leap to his face in a crimson flood. He gasped out an incoherent word or two, hoping to check Mr. Galbraith's speech, but no intelligible phrases came to his tongue.

"Life is a strangely perverse game, isn't it?"' mused the capitalist. "We build our castles, build them not alone for ourselves but for others, and those we love shatter the structure we have so painstakingly reared and on its ruined site make for themselves castles of their own."

His eyes were fixed on the narrowing ribbon of sand over which the car sped.

"I--I--have another surprise for you, Bob," he said in a lower tone, without lifting his gaze from the reach of highway ahead. "Cynthia is to be married."

"Cynthia!" A chaos of emotions mingled in the word.

"Her engagement has been an overwhelming shock to her mother and me," the elder man continued steadily, still without shifting his eyes from the road over which he guided the car, "I don't know why the possibility never occurred to us; but it never did. She is to marry Howard Snelling."

A quick wave of revulsion swept over Robert Morton. This, then, was the reason Snelling had filched from Willie his invention,--that he might have greater riches to lay at the feet of his fiancée, and perhaps reach more nearly a financial equality with her family. He saw it all now. And probably it was Snelling's jealousy of himself that had led him to retaliate by heaping his unwelcome attentions on Delight. At last it was clear as day,--Cynthia's growing coldness and her continual trips to and from Belleport in the boatbuilder's company. Robert Morton could have laughed aloud at his own stupidity. The engagement explained, too, Mr. Snelling's confusion and embarrassment at every mention of the Galbraith family. Why, a child might have fathomed the romance!

Again Mr. Galbraith was speaking.

"And now, Bob, for the last surprise of all. At first, I thought I would delay telling you until the papers were all in shape and ready for signature; but on second thought it seemed a pity to shut you out of the fun. We have all the data prepared to take out a patent on Mr. Spence's motor-boat."

Bob felt a sudden sinking of his heart, a stifling of his breath.

"The afternoon you all came over to Belleport," explained the financier, "I got Snelling and a draughtsman from our company to go to the shop and in the old gentleman's absence secure measurements and the necessary information. These we took to New York and put into proper hands, and when the affidavits are sworn to and everything is in legal form I see no reason why the government should not grant the patent. If it does, there should be a little fortune in the appliance."

Robert Morton did not move. He felt as if he had been turned to stone.

"I thought you would be interested," observed Mr. Galbraith, a suggestion of disappointment in his voice. "I did not consult you at first because I felt so sure that the idea would please you. I'm sorry if it doesn't. It seemed to me that if we could help Mr. Spence to patent his device, he might do quite a little with it. I thought he might not know how to go at the matter himself. So we are preparing all the papers for him to file an application in his own name. Afterward I propose either to purchase from him the rights to use it, or to buy the thing outright at a reasonable figure. In either case, the deal will net him quite an income and place him beyond the possibility of financial worry so long as he lives."

Oh, the relief that surged over Robert Morton! Joy rioted with shame, happiness with self-reproach. How feeble his faith had been. He hoped Mr. Galbraith did not read in his eyes the suspicions he had cherished.

Apparently he did not, for in the same kindly manner he asked:

"Do you think it would be better to keep the secret from the little old chap a bit longer or tell him now?"

"Oh, tell him now! Tell him now!" cried Bob. "Tell him right away when we get back!"

His companion laughed at his eagerness and for the first time their eyes met.

"And now, sir," began Robert Morton, a ring of buoyancy and light-heartedness in his voice such as had not sounded in it for weeks, "I have a surprise for you. I, too, am going to be married."

The car swerved suddenly as if a tremor had passed through the hands on the wheel.

"I am engaged to your niece, Mr. Galbraith."

"To my--my niece!" repeated the great man blankly. "I don't think I quite--"

"To Delight Hathaway."

Bob saw a dull brick-red flush color the neck of the capitalist and steal up into his face. For a moment he seemed at a loss for words. Then presently, as if he had succeeded in readjusting his ideas, he ejaculated:

"My word, Bob! Well, you young people have mixed yourselves up nicely! However, if you all are happy, that is the main thing; you are the ones to be suited. We shall still have you in the family, anyway." He laughed. "And about the property," he went on thoughtfully,--"this simplifies matters greatly, for it won't make much difference now which of you has it--you or the girl."

But Bob stopped him with a quick protest.

"I don't want Delight to know Madam Lee's money has previously been willed to me," he said. "If she suspected that, she would never take it. You are not to tell her--promise me you will see to that."

"Of course I will arrange the affair any way you wish," Mr. Galbraith agreed, with a dubious frown. "But if you are to marry her, I really can't see what difference it would make."

"It will make a great deal of difference," declared the younger man. "In the one case the fortune will be hers to use as she pleases. She will have the independent right to hand it over to the Brewsters if she so desires. Our entire relation will be placed on another basis; for if I marry her under those conditions I marry an heiress, not the ward of a poor fisherman."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"On the other hand, if she refuses the money, it will be mine to lay at her feet. Can't you see what a vast contrast there will be in my position?"

Mr. Galbraith nodded thoughtfully as if considering the matter from a new angle.

"That's the only reason the fortune would mean anything to me--that I might have something to offer her," continued Robert Morton. "Of course, as you said, she would have the benefit of the money in either case; but it makes a difference whether it comes to her by the mere right of inheritance, or whether she takes it from her--husband."

"There is a distinction," admitted the elder man. "Now that you call my attention to it, I can see that readily. It is a delicate one, but its consequences are far-reaching. Well, you shall have your way! A proportion of the legacy shall be offered to Delight, and the secret regarding it shall be yours to keep or divulge as you see fit. You are a noble fellow, Bob. I only wish--" He checked the impulsive phrase that rose to his lips but not before the listener had caught its import.

"Mr. Snelling is a fine man, Mr. Galbraith," broke in Bob instantly, dreading the words that might follow.

"Oh, I know it--there is no question about that," the capitalist assented with haste. "Success is written all over his future, and I know he will be a son-in-law to be proud of. He and Cynthia are royally happy too, and no doubt know better than I what they want. After all, none of us can live other people's lives; each must work out his own."

"You've said it, Mr. Galbraith."

The financier smiled and his eyes twinkled beneath the shaggy brows that arched them.

"You will have to be getting used to calling me by another name, young man," he said. "Remember I am to be your uncle."