It is the ambition of his grandfather, I believe, that the lad should grow up to be respected in the county--to stand for something more than he himself has done." "Well, he'll hardly stand for more of a rascal," remarked Christopher quietly; and then, as his eyes rested on the landscape, he appeared to follow moodily some suggestion which had half escaped him."Then the way to touch the man is through the boy, I presume," he said abruptly.
Arrested by the words, the lawyer looked down quickly, but the other, still kneeling upon the ground, was fingering a plant he had just picked up."Fine leaves, eh?" was the remark that met Carraway's sudden start.
"To touch him, yes," replied the lawyer thoughtfully."Whatever heart he has is given to his grandson, and when you saved the lad's life the other day you placed Fletcher in your debt for good.Of his gratitude I am absolutely sure, and as a slight expression of it he asked me to hand you this."He drew the check from his pocket, and leaning over, held it out to Christopher.To his surprise, the young man took it from him, but the next moment he had torn it roughly in two and handed it back again."So you may as well return it to him," he said, and, rising slowly from the ground, he stood pushing the loose plants together with his foot.
"I feared as much," observed Carraway, placing the torn slip of paper in his pocket."Your grudge is of too long standing to mend in a day.Be that as it may, I have a request to make of you from the boy himself which I hope you will not refuse.He has taken a liking to you, it appears, and as he will probably be ill for some weeks, he begs that you will come back with me to see him."He finished a little wistfully, and stood looking up at the young man who towered a good head and shoulders above him.
"I may as well tell you once for all," returned Christopher, choking over the words, "that you've given me as much of Fletcher as I can stand and a long sight more than I want.If anybody but you had brought me that piece of paper with Bill Fletcher's name tagged to it I'd have rammed it down his throat before this.As it is, you may tell him from me that when I have paid him to the last drop what I owe him--and not till then--will I listen to any message he chooses to send me.I hate him, and that's my affair;I mean to be even with him some day, and I reckon that's my affair, too.One thing I'm pretty sure of, and that is that it's not yours.Is your visit over, or will you come into the house?""I'll be going back now," replied the lawyer, shrinking from the outburst, "but if I may have the pleasure, I'll call upon your mother in the morning."Christopher shook the hand which he held out, and then spoke again in the same muffled voice."You may tell him one thing more," he pursued, "and that is, that it's the gospel truth Ididn't know it was his grandson in the wagon.Why, man, there's not a Fletcher on this earth whose neck I'd lift my little finger to save!"Then, as Carraway passed slowly along the ragged path to the sunken road, he stood looking after him with a heavy frown upon his brow.His rage was at white heat within him, and, deny it as he would, he knew now that within the last few weeks his hatred had been strengthened by the force of a newer passion which had recoiled upon itself.Since his parting with Maria Fletcher the day before, he had not escaped for a breath from her haunting presence.She was in his eyes and in the air he breathed; the smell of flowers brought her sweetness to him, and the very sunshine lying upon the September fields thrilled him like the warmth of her rare smile.He found himself fleeing like a hunted animal from the memory which he could not put away, and despite the almost frenzied haste with which he presently fell to work, he saw always the light and gracious figure which had come to him along the red clay road.The fervour which had shone suddenly in her eyes, the quiver of her mouth as she turned away, the poise of her head, the gentle, outstretched hand he had repulsed, the delicate curve of her wrist beneath the falling sleeve, the very lace on her bosom fluttering in the still weather as if a light wind were blowing--these things returned to torture him like the delirium of fever.Appealing as the memory was, it aroused in his distorted mind all the violence of his old fury, and he felt again the desire for revenge working like madness in his blood.
It was as if every emotion of his life swept on, to empty itself at last into the wide sea of his hatred.
VII.In Which Hero and Villain Appear as One A month later Christopher's conversation with Carraway returned to him, when, coming one morning from the house with his dogs at his heels and his squirrel gun on his shoulder, he found Will Fletcher and a troop of spotted foxhound puppies awaiting him outside the whitewashed gate.
"I want to speak to you a moment, Mr.Blake," began the boy, in the assured tones of the rich man to the poor.The Blake hounds made a sudden rush at the puppies, to be roughly ordered to heel by their master.
"Well, fire away," returned the young man coolly."But I may as well warn you that it's more than likely it will be a clear waste of breath.I'll have nothing to do with you or your sort." He leaned on his gun and looked indifferently over the misty fields, where the autumn's crop of lifeeverlasting shone silver in the sunrise.
