"Good-bye, Dad!"
And then Morley staggered toward Sandy and stretched his arms out to him. There was one thing more he had to offer!
"I—I want to tell you 'bout—yo' mother, Sandy—and me! No one ain't all bad; she was all good and yo' must lay hold o' the good. It will help if yo' can cling fast enough."
Oddly enough Sandy found himself against his father's breast without a sense of strangeness. Long years ago he had so lain in the strong arms—the recollection brought others in its wake; memories of safe, happy days—before Mary had come into their lives.
"I was older then her!" Martin spoke as if confessing to one who demanded the best and the truth at last. It was as though he felt that with the neglect and injustice he had of late shown the boy, there had been the holding back of his just due. "Yo' mother came from The Forge, she left a good home for me because she believed in me—she was terrible young and trusting and she didn't live to—find out! I was old enough to be her father, and I tried. God help me! I tried, but it was the old curse and not even the love I had for her could keep me up. But while she lived—it was better. The cabin was clean and tidy and she always sang about her work. She only stopped singing toward the last—when she got thinking about you she got solemner and stiller and then—you came! She—died the day after, and the blackness of it has shut the sunlight out of my life ever since, Sandy. I ought to have took my pay and made no fuss, and for a time I did. You and me lived on in the cabin with a woman's hand to help at the pinch, and for years I kept my head and yours above water. But when yo' are a man, son, you'll think kinder o' me than what yo' do to-day; a man's a man, and a lonely man is the worst of all—and so"—Martin's grizzly head was pressed against Sandy's—"and so—Mary came! She didn't ask much; she only wanted to live along with us-all in the cabin, but——" The dreary years seemed to spread before both man and boy in the silence which followed.
"Good-bye, Sandy, good-bye!" Martin choked and held the boy off at arm's length. "Yo' great-grandfather's name was Sandford Morley. I gave you the name for good luck—maybe it—will help. Good-bye!"
"Good-bye—dear old Dad!"
The one-time trust and affection flooded the moment and place. Quite simply and naturally they kissed and fell apart.
"Yo' go first, lad—yo' ain't got nothing to take?" Sandy shook his head.
"No, Dad. Good-bye. The money will help me on. Some day I'm coming back, Dad, coming back to help! Wait for me, Dad, and hold tight for me—so I'll be glad. Dear, dear, old Dad!"