Clay turned away, and the anxious hours that followed left their mark on him. Men called him hard and callous, but he loved his son, and Aynsley was moreover the object of all his ambitions. Social popularity and political influence had no charms for Clay; commercial control and riches were his aim. He knew his ability as a gatherer, but he did not know how to spend, and, when the boy had made good in the business world, he should have the best that society and culture could give. Now, however, a few hours would determine whether all Clay’s hopes must crumble into dust. He trusted the doctor; but, having a strong man’s suspicion of medicine, he trusted Ruth Osborne more.
As a matter of fact he was justified, for Ruth did her part that night. It was hot and still, and the door and the window of the sick room were opened. A small, carefully shaded lamp diffused a dim light, and now and then a passing draught stirred the curtains and brought in a faint coolness and the scent of the pines. The tired girl found it wonderfully refreshing as she sat near the bed in a straight-backed chair: she dare not choose one more comfortable lest drowsiness overpower her.
Aynsley was restless, but she thought rather less so than usual, and now and then he spoke feebly but sensibly.
“You won’t go away,” he begged once in a weak voice, and she smiled reassuringly as she laid a cool hand on his hot, thin arm.
For a while he lay with closed eyes, though he did not seem to sleep, and then, opening them suddenly, he looked round with eagerness as if in search of her.
“That fellow means to get me; he won’t miss next time!” he murmured later, and she supposed his wandering mind was occupied with memories of the affray at the mill. Then he added with difficulty: “You’ll stand him off, won’t you? You can, if you want.”
“Of course,” Ruth said with compassion and half admiring sympathy, for she was young enough to set a high value on physical courage and manly strength, and her patient, though so pitifully helpless now, had bravely held his post. It was daunting to see this fine specimen of virile manhood brought so low.
When the doctor came in some time later he looked down at Aynsley before he turned to Ruth.
“No sleep yet?” he asked softly.
Aynsley heard him and looked up.