"WELL, I do not think we need detain Mr. Fortescue any longer. I want to speak to you for a few moments on another subject, Mr. Montague Jones."
It was the Earl who spoke, and his words roused Kenneth from a feeling almost of faintness which had crept over him, as he looked at the hand laid on the head of the collie. He bowed to the Earl, and at once took his departure. That was not the time to approach the subject on which his thoughts were centred. If he spoke to the Earl, he must speak to him alone, and not in the presence of Mr. Montague Jones; and, moreover, in his present tumult of feeling, he did not feel capable of speaking at all. He required time for thought and reflection.
He walked down the avenue, seeing and hearing nothing. The beautiful scenery was completely lost upon him. He passed through the great gates, hardly noticing the lodge-keeper, who opened them for him.
He went on, not knowing or caring where he was going, having not the least idea what course of action he should take. He wanted to be alone to think.
He found himself at last on a hill covered with Scotch fir trees. He climbed to the top of it, and sat down on a fallen tree. There lay the beautiful old Castle beneath him—his home—the home of which he had been cruelly deprived by the man he had just seen—a man who had no right to the name of father. A great feeling of anger rose up in his heart against this man, who was living in luxury and splendour, whilst his own son was struggling on, obliged to be content with the bare necessaries of life.
How could he ever pardon such heartless conduct? How could he ever forgive his father for his base desertion of him, when he was a helpless infant? His whole nature rose in revolt against such behaviour.
"'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us.'"
Yes, he must forgive even this, if he would be the follower of Him who prayed for those who hung Him on the cross. He pleaded for help from above to enable him to do this, and as he prayed, he grew calmer.
Still he sat on, trying to plan what his next step should be. Should he go to Sheffield and see Mr. Northcourt? Or should he call at the Castle and ask for an interview with the Earl? Yet what if this interview was refused? What if the Earl had noticed the likeness, and, not wishing to own him, would henceforth be on his guard against seeing him again?
At length he determined not to go to the Castle, but to write. He would telegraph to the office that he was unavoidably detained at Eagleton; he would stay at the little village inn that night; he would despatch as soon as possible a letter to the Castle, and would await the Earl's reply. What would be the use of putting the matter in the hands of a lawyer, if his father were willing to own him? Why should their family affairs be brought under the notice of an outsider?