ney to some pleasant, quiet spot, where he
and Phil could sleep, and dream and ride and drive and grow strong,
and enjoy themselves. For the moment he felt as though he would never
care to do any more work, nor would he need to, for he was rich
enough. He would live for the boy. Phil's education, his health, his
happiness, his establishment in life--these would furnish occupation
enough for his well-earned retirement.
It was a golden moment. He had won a notable victory against greed and
craft and highly trained intelligence. And yet, a year later, he was
to recall this recent past with envy and regret; for in the meantime
he was to fight another battle against the same forces, and others
quite as deeply rooted in human nature. But he was to fight upon a new
field, and with different weapons, and with results which could not be
foreseen.
But no premonition of impending struggle disturbed Mr. French's
pleasant reverie; it was broken in a much more agreeable manner by the
arrival of a visitor, who was admitted by Judson, Mr. French's man.
The visitor was a handsome, clear-eyed, fair-haired woman, of thirty
or thereabouts, accompanied by another and a plainer woman, evidently
a maid or companion. The lady was dressed with the most expensive
simplicity, and her graceful movements were attended by the rustle of
unseen silks. In passing her upon the street, any man under ninety
would have looked at her three times, the first glance instinctively
recognising an attractive woman, the second ranking her as a lady;
while the third, had there been time and opportunity, would have been
the long, lingering look of respectful or regretful admiration.
"How is Mr. French, Judson?" she inquired, without dissembling her
anxiety.
"He's much better, Mrs. Jerviss, thank you, ma'am."
"I'm very glad to hear it; and how is Phil?"
"Quite bright, ma'am, you'd hardly know that he'd been sick. He's
gaining strength rapidly; he sleeps a great deal; he's asleep now,
ma'am. But, won't you step into the library? There's a fire in the
grate, and I'll let Mr. French know you are here."
But Mr. French, who had overheard part of the colloquy, came forward
from an adjoining room, in smoking jacket and slippers.
"How do you do?" he asked, extending his hand. "It was mighty good of
you to come to see me."
"And I'm awfully glad to find you better," she returned, giving him
her slender, gloved hand with impulsive warmth. "I might have
tele
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