The Colonels Dream | Page 4

get away."
Mr. French was too weak to resist--both body and mind seemed
strangely relaxed--and there was really no reason why he should not go.
His work was done. Kirby could attend to the formal transfer of the
business. He would take a long journey 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 telephoned,
but I wanted to see for myself. I felt a part of the blame to be mine, for
it is partly for me, you know, that you have been overworking."
"It was all in the game," he said, "and we have won. But sit down and
stay awhile. I know you'll pardon my smoking jacket. We are partners,
you know, and I claim an invalid's privilege as well."
The lady's fine eyes beamed, and her fair cheek flushed with pleasure.
Had he only realised it, he might have claimed of her any privilege a
woman can properly allow, even that of conducting her to the altar. But
to him she was only, thus far, as she had been for a long time, a very
good friend of his own and of Phil's; a former partner's widow, who had
retained her husband's interest in the business; a wholesome, handsome
woman, who was always excellent company and at whose table he had
often eaten, both before and since her husband's death. Nor, despite
Kirby's notions, was he entirely ignorant of the lady's partiality for
himself.
"Doctor Moffatt has ordered Phil and me away, for three months," he
said, after Mrs. Jerviss had inquired particularly concerning his health
and Phil's.
"Three months!" she exclaimed with an accent of dismay. "But you'll
be back," she added, recovering herself quickly, "before the vacation
season opens?"
"Oh, certainly; we shall not leave the country."
"Where are you going?"
"The doctor has prescribed the pine woods. I shall visit my old home,
where I was born. We shall leave in a day or two."
"You must dine with me to-morrow," she said warmly, "and tell me
about your old home. I haven't had an opportunity to thank you for
making me rich, and I want your advice about what to do with the

money; and I'm tiring you now when you ought to be resting."
"Do not hurry," he said. "It is almost a pleasure to be weak and helpless,
since it gives