Part 11

"I went to sleep too after a time," continued Ben, "and when I woke, Barker was gone, and Field was sitting at the table writing for all he was worth. It was then I saw him steal old Wattie's letter. He got me to sign something when I was coming round, but I was too mixed to know what it was. That's the very paper you have there, with my signature at the foot. Next morning Field hurried me off with him at dawn, we having arranged beforehand to travel together to the south. I thought Wattie was still resting after the blow, and Field persuaded me not to disturb him, as he was asleep. We separated as soon as we reached the nearest station, and I never met him again until I found him here in Sunbury on my return home."

"You lie!" thundered Mr. Field. "Every statement you have made is false! You confess that you were drunk, so how can you give any reliable account of what took place? Surely Barker's deliberate attempt at suicide is enough to prove his acknowledgment of the crime. It is preposterous to try to lay it at my door. What witness can you bring to prove your accusation? It is only one man's word against another, and I have as good a right as you to be believed."

"There is a witness whom I can bring," answered Ben calmly, "and one whose evidence will be conclusive too."

"Who is it, pray?" asked Mr. Field with a mocking laugh.

"Old Wattie himself," was Ben's reply.

As he said the words, Mr. Field suddenly threw up his hands, and staggering to a chair, fell back unconscious upon the cushions.

*CHAPTER XX*

*Good Hope*

All was commotion and confusion at Farncourt as servants hurried hither and thither, and a message was sent off to the doctor to come without delay to the assistance of the master of the big house, who meanwhile lay so helpless within its walls.

"It was a stroke," said Ben to Mrs. Power, as he stood in her little parlour giving an account of the sudden seizure. "They say he may regain consciousness towards the end, but there is no hope that he can recover."

"How did it come on?" asked Madelaine. "He seemed quite well when I saw him yesterday."

"The two American gentlemen are coming to explain," answered Ben, "as it has something to do with you, Mrs. Power. They will be here in a few minutes."

"Something to do with me!" repeated Madelaine in astonishment. "I don't understand."

A motor drew up to the gate as she spoke, and she was soon listening to the strange tale. Clearly and concisely did Judge Simmons lay the whole case before her, dwelling as gently as he could upon the sick man's guilt, but demonstrating to her in no uncertain terms the cruel deception which had been practised upon her husband, blighting his life for so long.

"Do you mean to say that Gerald is entirely innocent?" she asked, hardly able to take in the wonderful news. "Am I right in believing that he did not even strike old Mr. Long--much less kill him?"

"There is absolutely nothing against him," replied the judge. "He is free to hold up his head with any man."

The chauffeur had by this time been sent off in the car to Mrs. Potter's, with instructions to bring Mr. Barker back with him at once to Sea View Cottage. Gerald had already started on his six-mile walk to the railway, but it was not long before the motor had overtaken the traveller, and a note from Madelaine put into her husband's hands, bidding him come to her without delay.

It was a joyful reunion when at length Gerald made his appearance at the cottage, and the glad tidings were broken to the exiled man. Again and again he had to be told the details of the marvellous story, while he listened hungrily, his eyes glittering with new hope and his cheeks flushed with the emotion which he did not seek to hide.

"Is it indeed true that I can live out the rest of my life openly before all?" he said at last, "with no haunting spectre dogging my steps or barring the way to rest and happiness? What these past years have been to me in their utter misery, no one will ever know. I feel as if a crushing burden had been suddenly lifted off, and my heart is light once more. Oh, Madelaine, we need talk no more of separation. It is as if the sunshine had all at once flooded our future. Please God it may be a very happy one both for us and our little son. As long as I live, I can never praise Him enough for what He has done!"

For some time did the little company remain, talking over the many eventful circumstances of the past.

"I never could make out why Mr. Field always seemed to be in such a fright, as if something was hanging over him," said Ben. "The worst thing I laid to his charge was some sort of forgery, to which I had unwittingly put my hand. The suspicion of a crime did not enter my head, as I had no idea there had been any talk of Wattie's death. Many a time have I seen the old man and talked with him since the day when all this coil began. I had no cause to question what Field told me, and believed he was merely sleeping off the double effects of the drink and the blow when we went off that morning, and never imagined there had ever been any serious danger at all. He was very indignant with us for deserting him as we did, and no wonder, for he was only just breathing when some lumber-men happened to come in, and looked after him like good Samaritans for a day or two till he got better. He was afraid of being left alone in the hut after that, and soon went off to a married daughter in Toronto, where he has been ever since. I suppose that is why Mr. Field did not come across him again, and so never doubted that he was actually dead, as might well have been the case had he been left to our tender mercies."

"Do you realize now what your position is in regard to your little property in California?" asked Mr. Pratt at last. He turned to Gerald and looked at him with an amused smile as he put the question.

"I seem to care for nothing except that the intolerable weight has gone, which has crushed me down for ten interminable years," was the reply, "but I expect I shall take the first opportunity of getting rid of anything that is mine in Wild Goat Gully. I never want to see the place again."

"You won't have many offers," said Mr. Pratt, with a knowing nod.

"Not worth anything, I suppose," answered Gerald. "Well, I thought as much, only I don't seem to care."

"There are not a dozen men in the world who could bid for it," returned Mr. Pratt. "Do you understand, Mr. Barker, that you are now the Silver King?"

It was indeed with feelings of astonishment that Gerald and Madelaine listened to the account of the Good Hope mine, with that tell-tale orange streak across its rocky wall, and learned that its rich treasures were indisputably their own.

Not till a week later were they able to grasp the reality of what it all meant, when they were called to the dying bed of the man who had robbed them not only of their heritage but of their peace. Broken and penitent, Thomas Field made full confession of his sin, praying those he had injured to forgive him for the wrong which he had done.

It was Gerald Barker who supported the sick man's head in that last dread struggle for breath, and Madelaine who closed his eyes as he passed away from the world he had so much misused.

"You promised you would be good to my boy," he gasped a few minutes before the end. "He is blameless, though he must suffer for his father's evil deeds, poor little chap."

"He is going to be our boy now," answered Madelaine, putting her arm round the sobbing child. "Robin and he will be brothers in everything, and Julius shall share with him both our home and our love."

To the utmost did Gerald and his wife fulfil their promise to the erring parent, and brighter days dawned for little Julius than he had ever experienced before. To a stranger's eyes, no difference could be seen in their loving care for the two lads.

"They shall share and share alike," said Gerald. "It was Julius' father who first exploited the mine, and his enterprise that carried it on, so it is only fair that his son should reap some of the reward. I hold this wealth as a trust from God. I am but a steward of His to see that it is spent as He would desire, and my wish is that the boys may be brought up to use rightly what will one day be theirs."

As for Benjamin Green, who helped so largely in bringing the truth at length to light, his energies could not long be confined to quiet Sunbury. When Mr. Barker offered him an important position in connection with the "Good Hope" he accepted gladly, and for many years proved himself not only a capable servant, but a faithful friend.

It is as bright Harrow boys, home for the holidays, that we must take our last glimpse of Robin and Julius, as they sit talking with Gerald and Madelaine round the drawing-room fire at Farncourt. Robin's fair curly head is laid against his mother's knee, and Julius' dark one is not far off, both lads lounging contentedly upon the hearthrug, which they share with a fine deerhound and Pat the terrier.

"You should have seen Julius win the hundred yards' race, father," said Robin. "It was simply splendid. All the other fellows were bigger than he was, but he led from start to finish."

"That's nothing to Robin at the high jump," put in Julius. "The people just roared when he cleared the bar time after time. He broke the record for boys under twelve, you know."

"So you like school," remarked Gerald, "and have had a good term on the whole?"

"Rather!" replied both boys simultaneously. "Though it's jolly to be home again," added Julius, as he looked up trustfully into Madelaine's face.

"Why, mother, you have actually got that old text of mine framed!" exclaimed Robin suddenly, as he sat up and looked at the table opposite. "I thought it was washed away the night of the storm, when our hut was destroyed."

"I must apologize to you, Robin," said his father, "for having so coolly walked off with your property. I went back on purpose to take it that night when the tempest broke, and I got so ill. Your mother found a nice corner for it beside her writing materials, so we put it up there."

"It reminds me of so many things," said Madelaine. "I like to look at it."

"I've often thought of it at school," remarked Robin, "when things weren't going quite straight. It somehow seems to put them right. You see if 'the eyes of the LORD are in every place, beholding the evil and the good,' it's bound to make one more careful."

"Yes," said Julius, "and if one is down or sorry, it's a help to think of it too--that is, of course, after you've found out that He's the best Friend of all."

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