“Simply this,” replied Herbert, speaking hurriedly and with some feeling; “after a number of anxious years I have succeeded in clearing the memory of my father from a stain that has rested upon it ever since his death.”
Very rapidly he sketched the events that had followed one another from the time he had read the little personal in the Herald until the unveiling of the memorial fountain in Cleverly.
Tomlin whistled.
“This is news indeed, and I never knew a thing about it. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I owe you an apology for that,” said Herbert contritely, “but I was a victim of circumstances. After my interview with the old sea captain I missed you, and found it necessary to go to Cleverly immediately. Besides that I had a strong desire to complete the whole business so that I might give you the story in full when we met.”
“Don’t mention it,” said the other heartily, his eyes glistening with the pleasure he felt. “Why the thing has the flavor of a romance from real life. Say, it would make a bully story for the Argus.”
Herbert raised his hand in protest.
“Don’t think of such a thing, Tomlin!” he exclaimed. “I am not desirous of any publicity just at this time. I wouldn’t have Blakeley even hear my name or to see it, at least not for some time to come. I know that he feels very bitterly towards me, and I realize that he has a real justification for that feeling. Some day I may be able to win back his good opinion.”
“I hope so,” fervently ejaculated Tomlin; then as if the thought had just struck him: “Why not make the attempt now?”
“It is not possible now,” said Herbert in a positive tone, which conveyed a distinct desire to close the subject.