Farquharson of Glune

by May Bateman

"For you, for me, the cup of trembling...."

It seemed to Farquharson in the days that followed Dora's announcement, that he lived and moved in a dream. As a rule, the realization of fatherhood only dawns upon a man when his child is in his arms. But to him, already, the dream-child was a tender promise. It swept away so many of the supernatural barriers between him and Dora. She had failed him in every office of friend and companion and wife, but she might yet redeem the past by giving him this dear possession, the child whose future he could mould in his own lines, to whom he could give the fruits of his own toil and his ambition. Beadon, Hare, Creagh and Lady Ennly alike noticed the change in his manner to his wife. Her shortcomings and failings no longer seemed to disturb him; where he had been merely patient before he was now gentle and tender. He studied her comfort even in the merest trifles; he toiled the more hopefully at his work in the knowledge that sure comfort and help would dawn presently. To a man of a certain temperament, the presence of his living child may even atone for the otherwise irreparable loss of his dearest hope. Farquharson wanted to give his son all that he himself had been robbed of in childhood. He could look back on his past life now with the detachment of a mere spectator, for every rough place that he had trod, he meant to make a happy playground for the boy. That is after all a fitting end of toil and labour, that a man should forge the sword which his heir's hand is to wield, that he should deny and discipline himself that his son may be the better braced for conflict with the foes within.

So Dora's reproaches left him unmoved, only a little pitiful, perhaps, that she could not see things as he did, that to her the coming joy was no joy at all, only annoyance and restraint. Not a day passed but she made some further claim upon his purse; never economical, she became absolutely reckless in her expenditure, and when he attempted to restrain her he was met by a flood of tears and angry protestations.

"Any one but you would be glad to do what little you can for me at such a time," she would cry out, flushing and paling in turn. "The doctor said I was not to have one moment's worry, and anxiety about money matters is worse for me than anything. If you grudge me what I need, I shall ask Mr. Calvert for money—he wouldn't be a multi-millionaire if it were not for you. Oh, so you see reason at last! Any other man in your place would have given me a cheque at once, instead of making such a cruel scene about it."

In Dora Farquharson's excuse it may be urged that she was temporarily beside herself with discomfort and anxiety. Brand had given her as his utmost limit of time a fortnight in which to do him a service which she thought it would be impossible to carry out. He had expected the papers to be in his hands within two or three days of her visit to Brighton; when they did not reach him, he wrote her the first of a series of letters which, though couched in careful language, contained veiled threats which were only too intelligible to her. Fortunately for her, the actual negotiations were suspended for a week, owing to some official delay, which gave her time to mature her plans. She was not a clever enough woman to scheme and plot for herself, she had been accustomed in the past merely to state her wants and have them fulfilled by those about her. Where other matters had been concerned, Brand had given his directions, and she had obeyed implicitly.

But this was irksome, dangerous even—it required even a certain mechanical aptitude to be carried through successfully. She offered him money; besought him to release her from her promise. But Brand refused.

"It's not a very serious matter after all that I am asking you," he said. "A man is never surprised at his wife's curiosity. If you're careful you won't run the least chance of your husband's discovery; if he were even to find you in his room again, he would merely think you were suspecting him of some intrigue or temporary breach of faith. No one knows his movements so well as you do. You have only to take the first opportunity of his being kept late at the House to get me exactly what I want."

"But sometimes he goes back to his study on his return and sits up all night working," said Dora.

Brand shrugged his shoulders.

"What if he should on this occasion? It only means that he will discover his loss a few hours earlier, that's all. You've only got to warn me, to send me a code telegram under an assumed name three hours before you get the papers, as we have already arranged, for me to be punctually outside your window ready to receive them at the hour you name. If you do your work properly, Farquharson could turn the whole house topsy-turvy, ravage it from garret to cellar and find no traces. I assure you it's all as simple as the alphabet," he laughed; "the very ABC of trivial burglary to help a friend."