"Please--please!" she broke in, touching her handkerchief to her eyes and smiling appealingly. "I am asking very little of you, after all."

"Yes, it is little enough; but it seems to me a futile interference.

If your father would go to her himself, if you would take him to her--that strikes me as the better strategy of the matter."

"Then am I to understand that you will not help; that you will not do this for us--for me?"

"I am sorry to have to say no, Miss Holbrook," I replied steadily.

"Then I regret that I shall have to go further; I must appeal to you as a personal matter purely. It is not easy; but if we are really very good friends--"

She glanced toward Sister Margaret, then rose and walked out upon the terrace.

"You will hate me--" she began, smiling wanly, the tears bright in her eyes; and she knew that it was not easy to hate her. "I have taken money from Mr. Gillespie, for my father, since I came here. It is a large sum, and when my father left here he went away to spend it--to waste it. It is all gone, and worse than gone. I must pay that back--I must not be under obligations to Mr. Gillespie. It was wrong, it was very wrong of me, but I was distracted, half crazed by my father's threats of violence against Aunt Pat--against us all. I am sure that you can see how I came to do it. And now you are my friend; will you help me?" and she broke off, smiling, tearful, her back to the bal.u.s.trade, her hand at her side lightly touching it.

She had confidence, I thought, in the power of tears, as she slipped her handkerchief into her sleeve and waited for me to answer.

"Of course Mr. Gillespie only loaned you the money to help you over a difficulty; in some way that must be cared for. I like him; he is a fellow of good impulses. I repeat that I believe this matter can be arranged readily enough, by yourself and your father. My intrusion would only make a worse muddle of your affairs. Send for your father and let him go to your aunt in the right spirit; and I believe that an hour's talk will settle everything."

"You seem to have misunderstood my purpose in coming here, Mr.

Donovan," she answered coldly. "I asked your help, not your advice. I have even thrown myself on your mercy, and you tell me to do what you know is impossible."

"Nothing is so impossible as the present att.i.tude of your father.

Until that is changed your aunt would be doing your father a great injury by giving him this money."

"And as for me--" and her eyes blazed--"as for me," she said, choking with anger, "after I have opened this page of my life to you and you have given me your fatherly advice--as for me, I will show you, and Aunt Pat and all of them, that what can not be done one way may be done in another. If I say the word and let the law take its course with my uncle--that man who brought all these troubles upon us--you may have the joy of knowing that it was your fault--your fault, Mr. Donovan!"

"I beg of you, do nothing! If you will not bring your father to Miss Pat, please let me arrange the meeting."

"He will not listen to you. He looks upon you as a meddler; and so do I, Mr. Donovan!"

"But your uncle--you must not, you would not!" I cried, terror-struck to see how fate drew her toward the pitfall from which I hoped to save her.

"Don't say 'must not' to me, if you please!" she flung back; but when she reached the door she turned and said calmly, though her eyes still blazed:

"I suppose it is not necessary for me to ask that you consider what I have said to you confidential."

"It is quite unnecessary," I said, not knowing whether I loved or pitied her most; and my wits were busy trying to devise means of saving her the heartache her ignorance held in store for her.

She called to Sister Margaret in her brightest tone, and when I had walked with them to St. Agatha's gate she bade me good-by with quite as demure and Christian an air as the Sister herself.

CHAPTER XX

THE TOUCH OF DISHONOR

Give me a staff of honour for mine age.

--_t.i.tus Andronicus_.

I was meditating my course over a cheerless luncheon when Gillespie was announced. He lounged into the dining-room, drew his chair to the table and covered a biscuit with camembert with his usual inscrutable air.

"I think it is better," he said deliberatingly, "to be an a.s.s than a fool. Have you any views on the subject?"

"None, my dear b.u.t.tons. I have been called both by shrewd men."

"So have I, if the worst were known, and they offered proof! Ah, more and more I see that we were born for each other, Donovan. I was once so impressed with the notion that to be a fool was to be distinguished that I conceived the idea of forming a n.o.ble Order of Serene and Incurable Fools. I elected myself The Grand and Most Worthy Master, feeling safe from compet.i.tion. News of the matter having gone forth, many persons of the highest standing wrote to me, recommending their friends for membership. My correspondence soon engaged three type-writers, and I was obliged to get the post-office department to help me break the chain. A few humble souls applied on their own hook for consideration. These I elected and placed in the first cla.s.s. You would be surprised to know how many people who are chronic joiners wrote in absent-mindedly for application blanks, fearing to be left out of a good thing. United States senators were rather common on the list, and there were three governors; a bishop wrote to propose a brother bishop, of whose merits he spoke in the warmest terms. Many newspapers declared that the society filled a long-felt want. I received invitations to speak on the uses and benefits of the order from many learned bodies. The thing began to bore me, and when my official stationery was exhausted I issued a farewell address to my troops and dissolved the society. But it's a great gratification to me, my dear Donovan, that we quit with a waiting-list."

"There are times, b.u.t.tons, when you cease to divert me. I'm likely to be very busy for a few days. Just what can I do for you this afternoon?"

"Look here, old man, you're not angry?"

"No; I'm rarely angry; but I'm often bored."

"Then your brutal insinuation shall not go unrewarded. Let me proceed.

But first, how are your ribs?"

"Sore and a trifle stiff, but I'm comfortable, thanks."

"As I understand matters, Irishman, there is no real difference between you and me except in the matter of a certain lady. Otherwise we might combine our forces in the interest of these unhappy Holbrooks."

"You are quite right. You came here to say something; go on and be done with it."

He deftly covered another biscuit with the cheese, of whose antiquity he complained sadly.

"I say, Donovan, between old soldier friends, what were you doing up there on the creek last night?"

"Studying the landscape effects by starlight. It's a habit of mine.

Your own presence there might need accounting for, if you don't mind."

"I will be square about it. I met Helen quite accidentally as I left this house, and she wanted to see her father. I took her over there, and we found Henry. He was up to some mischief--you may know what it was. Something had gone wrong with him, and he was in all kinds of a bad humor. Unfortunately, you got the benefit of some of it."

"I will supply you a link in the night's affairs. Henry had been to see his brother Arthur."

Gillespie's face fell, and I saw that he was greatly surprised.

"Humph! Helen didn't tell me that."

"The reason Henry came here was to look for his brother. That's how he reached this place ahead of Miss Pat and Helen. And I have learned something--it makes no difference how, but it was not from the ladies at St. Agatha's--I learned last night that the key of this whole situation is in your own hands, Gillespie. Your father was swindled by the Holbrooks; which Holbrook?"

He was at once sane and serious, and replied soberly:

"I never doubted that it was Arthur. If he wasn't guilty, why did he run away? It was a queer business, and father never mentioned it.

Henry gave out the impression that my father had taken advantage of Holbrook Brothers and forced their failure; but father shut up and never told me anything."

"But you have the notes--"

"Yes, but I'm not to open them, yet. I can't tell you about that now."