"Sandford, I wish you to tell me exactly why you wanted extra money this summer. I say wish, because I know I have no right to demand your confidence, but I do think I have a right to protect you against—well, against yourself when it comes to personal injury. You trusted me seven years ago with your confidence; you've talked pretty openly to me during your school and college years. Reports speak louder than words—but we've kept in touch with each other. I make no claims, but I'd like to think you know I am your friend."
Just then the moonlight shifted to Sandy's face and lay across it in brilliant clearness.
"I can tell you better to-night, sir, than I could have a week ago, for the need is past now. I have only kept it to myself because it has never seemed right that I should ask more of you than you offered to give—and this was my affair—mine alone."
"I see!" muttered Markham, and his jaw set, not with doubt of Sandy, but with detestation of the woman who earlier in the day had driven him to attack this boy's sacred privilege of independence and privacy.
"It began, sir, when I was in the midst of class work in June. I was having a particularly good time, you may remember, when, one night, a messenger came to my rooms and said some one wanted to see me near the gate of the Square. It was a girl, sir, though she looked a woman; a poor, sad, sick creature from my home—my half sister, Molly! I did not know her at first. She was right little and pretty when I last saw her, but cruelty and want had turned her into——"
Levi's eyes were riveted on the still, white face of the speaker, and his heart hurt him for very pity. He could not let the boy say the word.
"And she—what did she want?" he asked so sternly that Sandy, even with his reverence for Markham, took up arms in his sister's defence.
"Don't judge her harshly, sir; you do not know our hills. Molly was a mighty weak little girl, and when temptation came to her, she hadn't strength to resist, and they who should have defended her—sold her! I was not there, so I cannot be hard upon her, though she thought I meant to be at first. You see I was so shocked and surprised, and amid all the happenings I had almost forgotten. She threatened me, sir. It was right pitiful. She said every one was dead—her mother; our father——" Sandy's voice faltered—"she was alone. She hadn't forgotten her old ways either. You remember that I told you how as a little girl she had threatened the—the treasure under the rock beyond the Branch?" Markham nodded.
"Well—she threatened the treasure of to-day. She was for finding you out and begging—so—well, I bought her off! for I would not have you haggled and be made to repent your helping of me. I have kept her, sir, in a little room in a corner of Boston all summer. It was a neat and comfortable place, with a tree at the window. After a time she trusted me! At first it was hard for her to keep—well!—I reckon when one let's go as poor Molly did—it is right difficult to hold on long to a new and safer course. But—she died four days ago! She was alone, sir, with her head on the window sill; her poor little face set toward the tree. I had had a doctor for her—she had been feeling ill—it was heart trouble—she went without pain. I saw her buried to-day—some time in the future I am going to take her body to Lost Mountain. She'll really rest there, I reckon."
The moonlight passed from the white, tired face and Levi's aching eyes closed, taking the vision of Sandy with them. He recalled the boy's manner through the closing scenes of his college life; the outward calmness and grateful appreciation while the hideous trouble was eating the joy from the hours of triumph he had so bravely won. He reflected upon the following weeks of toil and lonely labour with that poor, dying girl in the background taking his life blood as once she had taken his hard-earned money. Then when he could bear no more Levi Markham got up and walked over to Sandy. He laid a trembling hand on his shoulder and by stern effort controlled his voice.