“But who is he? What is the young man’s name?”
Philip preserved an obstinate silence, and Mrs. Temple, who had never happened to meet Clifford face to face during her visits to the hotel, did not realize who they were talking about. So Gertrude continued to be spokesman.
“I really do not know his name,” she said. “He seems to be a kind of upper porter about the house, and you must have seen him. I have heard him called Cliff, which I have supposed to be his given name abbreviated; what his surname may be I have not the slightest idea.”
“And he is a fine fellow, I am very sure,” Judge Athol here interposed. “A young man evidently above his present position, although he is very unassuming. I have sometimes imagined that he might be some college student taking advantage of the summer vacation to earn his tuition and expenses for next year.”
Still, in the face of all this and the incalculable debt that he owed him, Philip Wentworth remained silent. He was conscious that it was mean and churlish to withhold what information he could give regarding Clifford Faxon; not to acknowledge in a manly fashion, that he was his classmate, and give him due honor, not only for having proved himself to be a noble and worthy young man during his first year at Harvard, but also for having that day risked his life to save that of his young sister.
But some spirit of perverseness held him mute, and even though he was thankful from the depths of his heart for the safety of Minnie, whose advent in the family had aroused all that was best in his nature, he almost resented the fact that Clifford had been her savior.
A singular grudge against Clifford had taken possession of him from the moment of their first meeting, when Clifford had plainly shown him that, even though he was poor and struggling against great odds for an education, he, at least, was no menial, and not lacking in independence and self-respect.
The discovery that he had in his possession the costly cameo, which Mollie Heatherford had declined to give him, together with his refusal to tell how he came by it, and also the fact that he had recently come very near being accountable for his life, all served to stir his anger and jealousy and increase his animosity.
It spoke but very little for the manliness of this would-be aristocrat that he did not now, in the face of his great obligations to Clifford, make an effort to crush out these feelings from his heart, confess the injustice he had done him, and accord him due gratitude. But obstinacy was not the least of his many faults, and he resolutely turned away from the still, small voice which was pointing out the path of duty to him.
“Well, whoever he is, I must see him, and make acknowledgment of the immense debt we owe him,” Mr. Temple observed in reply to Judge Athol, and with a very perceptible break in his voice, as his glance wandered to the little form lying upon the bed in the adjoining room, now wrapped in restful slumber.