"Yes, a wonderful man, Bates. He always disliked
Pickering, and he rejoiced in tricking him."
"Where did you pick Bates up? He told me he was
a Yankee, but he doesn't act or talk it."
My grandfather laughed. "Of course not! He's an
Irishman and a man of education-but that's all I know
about him, except that he is a marvelously efficient servant."
My mind was not on Bates. I was thinking now of
Marian Devereux. I could not go on further with my
grandfather without telling him how I had run away
and broken faith with him, but he gave me no chance.
"You will stay on here,-you will help me to finish
the house?" he asked with an unmistakable eagerness
of look and tone.
It seemed harsh and ungenerous to tell him that I
wished to go; that the great world lay beyond the confines
of Glenarm for me to conquer; that I had lost as
well as gained by those few months at Glenarm House,
and wished to go away. It was not the mystery, now
fathomed, nor the struggle, now ended, that was uppermost
in my mind and heart, but memories of a girl
who had mocked me with delicious girlish laughter,-
who had led me away that I might see her transformed
into another, more charming, being. It was a comfort
to know that Pickering, trapped and defeated, was not
to benefit by the bold trick she had helped him play upon
me. His loss was hers as well, and I was glad in my
bitterness that I had found her in the passage, seeking
for plunder at the behest of the same master whom Morgan,
Ferguson and the rest of them served.
The fight was over and there was nothing more for me
to do in the house by the lake. After a week or so I
should go forth and try to win a place for myself. I
had my profession; I was an engineer, and I did not
question that I should be able to find employment. As
for my grandfather, Bates would care for him, and I
should visit him often. I was resolved not to give him
any further cause for anxiety on account of my adventurous
and roving ways. He knew well enough that his
old hope of making an architect of me was lost beyond
redemption-I had told him that-and now I wished to
depart in peace and go to some new part of the world,
where there were lines to run, tracks to lay and bridges
to build.
These thoughts so filled my mind that I forgot he
was patiently waiting for my answer.
"I should like to do anything you ask; I should like
to stay here always, but I can't. Don't misunderstand
me. I have no intention of going back to my old ways.
I squandered enough money in my wanderings, and I
had my joy of that kind of thing. I shall find employment
somewhere and go to work."