CHAPTER XXI.
As the time went by, with this new-found happiness and energy Skelton began every day to take more optimistic views of the future. If only the Blairs would keep quiet, the story about Lewis might remain unknown to the world at large indefinitely; and how excellent would this be for all—for the boy, for Sylvia, and for Skelton himself.
There was, of course, one way of inducing Blair to say nothing and to make no attempts to prove what he considered his rights, and that was to offer him a sum of money in hand for his shadowy prospects in the future. At first, this plan was intolerably distasteful to Skelton; he only thought of it to dismiss it. But however he might dismiss it, still it returned. It is true it would give aid and comfort to his enemy, but it would also give peace and pleasure to the only two persons on earth whom he loved; for he was certain that, however Sylvia might be willing to brave talk for his sake, it would be an immeasurable relief to her to know that there would be no talk. Skelton also knew perfectly well that the Blairs stood no show whatever; for, even if Lewis should die, the Blairs could not inherit from him, because in the eyes of the law he was no relation to them, and it had pleased Skelton to think how completely he could checkmate Blair at every turn. But once the plan had entered his mind, his relentless and logical good sense forced him to consider it. He thought so much more clearly and rapidly and conclusively than the ordinary man that in a very little time his mind had made itself up. He did not all at once love Blair, but he saw that, in order to effect a great gain for the only two beings he loved in the world, he must agree to benefit his enemy; and so, under new and better influences, he brought himself to yield. As Bulstrode was Lewis’s guardian, of course Skelton could arrange with him as he chose.
When his determination was finally fixed, he told Bulstrode, who said:
“Humph! Best thing you could do. Perhaps the story about Lewis may never be positively known. I don’t want to publish it, and he doesn’t, and you don’t; so just get the Blairs to hold their tongues, and it need not be known any farther than it is now, for God knows how long—perhaps not until you and I both are dust. Dear, sweet Mrs. Blair can hold her tongue, I warrant, if any of the sex can.�
Bulstrode, fearing that, after all, the Blairs stood no chance, was glad for his dear Mrs. Blair to get enough to put her beyond the reach of poverty.
Skelton felt compelled to mention it to Sylvia. Her relief at the thought that the story need not be published broadcast was so intense that Skelton saw that she had suffered much from the apprehension of it. As she had said not one word about it, he was touched at her reticence and self-sacrifice. He smiled at the thought that he was being influenced by a woman and a boy, and the trio was completed when the parson finished the job. Conyers coming down to Deerchase on a visit about that time, Skelton, very unexpectedly to the clergyman, talked the subject over with him on ethical grounds. Naturally, Conyers endorsed the idea that Skelton’s money could not be put to a better use than to helping Mrs. Blair and her children; and so, by the three influences that Skelton was supposed to be least governed, he made up his mind to do that which a year before he would have scoffed at. Conyers’s ideas on matters of right and wrong were so clear and logical, he was so little befogged by interest and prejudice, that Skelton could not but respect his opinion. True, his mind was made up when he talked with Conyers about the matter; but the clergyman’s clearness of belief that the thing was right nullified some of the old restless hatred of Blair.
“Of course, we shall hate each other as long as we live,� said Skelton, in his cynically good-natured way, when talking with Conyers about Blair. “But, however Blair may congratulate himself on getting something for nothing—for that is what it is—I shall get a great deal more. I shall keep people from knowing my private affairs for at least several years to come, and that is worth a fortune to any man.�
Skelton acted promptly on his decision. He wrote Blair briefly and clearly how things stood, but that, if he would refrain from making any attempt to prove his supposed claims to the property upon Skelton’s approaching marriage, a modest sum in ready money would be forthcoming. He offered Blair every facility for finding out the actual state of the case, and invited him to come over to Deerchase and consult about it.
Blair told his wife, who, womanlike, advised him to take the bird in the hand.