“My God!” broke from Latimer. “What a heart you have, man!” He turned his face to look at him almost as if in reverent awe. “Margery’s child! Margery’s child!” he repeated to himself. “Is she like her mother?” he asked.
“I never saw her mother—when she was happy,” Tom answered. “She is taller than her mother and has eyes like a summer morning sky. It’s a wonderful face. I sometimes think she must be like—the other.”
“I want to see her,” said Latimer. “She need know nothing about me. I want to see her. May I?”
“Yes. We are staying here to push our claim, and we are living near Dupont Circle, and doing it as cheaply as we can. We haven’t a cent to spare, but that hasn’t hurt us so far. If we win our claim we shall be bloated bondholders; if we lose it, we shall have to tramp back to the mountains and build a log hut, and live on nuts and berries until we can raise a crop. The two young ones will set up a nest of their own and live like Adam and Eve—and I swear they won’t mind it. They’d be happy rich, but they’ll be happy poor. When would you like to come and see her?”
“May I come to-morrow?” asked Latimer. “And may I bring a friend with me? He is the human being who is nearest to me on earth. He is the only living soul who knows—what we know. He is the Reverend John Baird.”
“What!” said Tom. “The man who is setting the world on fire with his lectures—the ‘Repentance’ man?”
“Yes.”
“She’ll like to see him. No one better. We shall all like to see him. We have heard a great deal of him.”
They did not part for half an hour. When they did Latimer knew a great deal of the past. He knew the story of the child’s up-growing, with the sun rising from behind one mountain and setting behind another; he seemed to know the people who had loved and been familiar with her throughout her childish and girlish years; he knew of the fanciful name given her in infancy, and of the more fanciful one her primitive friends and playmates had adopted. He knew the story of Rupert, and guessed vaguely at the far past in which Delia Vanuxem had lived and died.
“Thank God I saw you that day!” he said. “Thank God I went to you that night!” And they grasped hands again and went their separate ways.