He broke off, and when he sat silent a moment or two Laura felt a curious sympathy for him.
“Won’t you go on?” she said.
“We had no children,” said the man. “My own folks were dead, but I contrived to see Derrick now and then. My wife had been very fond of him, and I liked the lad. Once or twice when I went up to London he insisted on 125 making a fuss over me––took me to his chambers and his club, though I believe I was in several ways not exactly a credit to him.”
Laura liked the little twinkle that crept back into his eyes. It suggested the genial toleration of a man with a nature big enough to overlook many trifles he might have resented.
“Well,” he continued, “his father died suddenly, and, when it became evident that his estate was deplorably involved, Derrick went out to Canada. None of his fastidious relatives seemed inclined to hold out a hand to him. Perhaps this was not very astonishing, but I was a little hurt that he did not afford me the opportunity. In one way, however, the lad was right. He was willing to stand on his own feet. There was pluck in him.”
He made an expressive gesture. “Now I’m anxious to hear where he is and what he is doing.”
Laura was stirred by what he had said. She had imagination, and could fill in many of the points Wisbech had only hinted at. Nevertheless, she was not quite pleased to recognize that he seemed to consider her as much concerned about his nephew as he was himself.
“He is”––she tried to speak in an indifferent tone––“He is at present engaged in building a difficult trestle bridge on a railroad. It is not the kind of work any man, who shrank from hazardous exertion, would delight in; but I believe there is a reason why the terms offered were a special inducement. He has a new project in his mind, though I do not know a great deal about it.”
“I think you might tell me what you do know.”
Laura did so, though she had never been in the cañon. The man listened attentively.