Warren Lane breathed a sigh of relief.
“That lifts a burden from my mind,” he said. “I am glad I took you into my confidence this morning. It was high time. I have done all I could, and must leave the rest to Providence and your own judgment and discretion.”
“That’s right, father. You have taught me to rely upon myself. I am ready and willing to paddle my own canoe.”
“I hope you won’t make such a failure of life as I have, Gerald.”
“Don’t say that, father. Rather let me hope that when I die I shall leave behind me one who will love me as much as I love you.”
Warren Lane regarded his son with affection.
“You have my blessing, Gerald. May God bless you as you have blessed me.”
An hour later Bradley Wentworth re-entered the cabin. A table was spread, and the appetizing odors of the trout were grateful to the nostrils of the hungry man. With boiled potatoes, cornbread and coffee, the meal was by no means to be despised. Seldom in his own luxurious house had Bradley Wentworth so enjoyed a dinner.
“You have a son, too, Wentworth,” remarked Warren Lane during the progress of the meal.