CHAPTER II
THE ELDER BROTHER
"Some of him lived but the most of him died—
(Even as you and I!)"
"For one thing he is too young," said Richard De Jarnette. "At twenty-one a man is still a boy, unless he has had more to develop him than Victor has ever had. And besides—"
And there he stopped.
It was the evening after the wedding, and the two men sat in the library of Richard De Jarnette's K Street house. It had seemed rather a gloomy place until the genial doctor was ushered in, for when young life goes out of a home by way of the wedding route, it leaves almost as great a gap as if there had been a funeral.
The elder De Jarnette permitted himself few friends, other than those in business circles, and no intimates, if we may except the one who had come to him to-night guided by love's instinct. He and Dr. Semple had been boys together in college, had had their maiden love affairs about the same time, and had recovered from them with about the same expedition. They knew each other, as the doctor was wont to remark pleasantly, "from the ground up."
But the doctor, even while saying this, was quite aware that he did not know Richard De Jarnette from the ground down—that is to say, to the roots of his nature. He occasionally came upon unexpected subterranean passages in the man's character, leading he knew not whither, for when upon two or three occasions he had attempted to explore these interesting byways, he had come suddenly upon a sign which said so plainly that the wayfaring man, though a fool, might read: "No trespassing allowed." And Dr. Semple, being a wise man and not a fool, always made haste to vacate when he saw this legend. He knew, what the rest of their world knew, that Richard De Jarnette was a rising business man, of strict integrity and tireless energy, and he knew what their world did not know, that there had been a time when his life had not been bounded by the four walls of his office, or the prim severity of a home presided over by a housekeeper,—a time when he had had his dreams like the rest. Then when he had not much more than made his masculine début into society, he had suddenly dropped from its ranks and given himself thenceforward wholly to business. There had been some speculation about the cause of this sudden lapse of interest, even among his male acquaintances, and more, of course, among those of the sex which is rightly supposed to have greater curiosity upon these subjects. But it is a very busy world. Broken ranks in any procession soon fill up,—and nobody sought him out in his seclusion save Dr. Semple.
He had never been a very successful society man, in truth having few of the social gifts which are there more imperative than either character or learning. And besides, he had no real love for it, and people rarely excel in the thing to which they are indifferent. Since his unceremonious dropping out he had devoted himself exclusively to business and his books. His one friend was Dr. Semple,—his one passion, his love for his young half-brother, who had shared his home since the death of their father.