[CHAPTER IV]
A TROUBLED NIGHT
IT was not, however, a good night, as far as Kenneth Fortescue was concerned, for he found it utterly impossible to sleep. Was it surprising that this should be the case, after the agitating day that had gone before it? The startling telegram from home, the suspense during the journey, the unexpected meeting with his friends in Birmingham, the sad news on arriving home of his father's illness—the remembrance of all these kept sleep far away from him.
And then there was the cause of that illness—the ruin which had befallen all his hopes and prospects. How could he continue in the army, if his father were correct in saying that all his money was lost? It would be impossible! He was not an extravagant man; but he knew that, with the greatest care and economy, he could not live upon his captain's pay. What, then, could he do? What would become of him? What future could possibly be in front of him?
Then his thoughts travelled to the mysterious envelope which lay in the safe in the next room. What would he find when he opened it? What revelation for him did it contain?
His father had said something about money belonging to himself, which had been lost with the rest; he had never known that he possessed any. Could it be money settled on his mother, which reverted to him at her death? If so, why was he never told of this? Why was it not handed over to him when he came of age? Could there be wrongdoing on his father's part of which he as yet knew nothing?
Then more troubled thoughts still distracted him and kept him long awake. He thought of poor Mrs. Douglas—a widow with a family dependent upon her—and then of the awful news which he had to break to her—news which made him ashamed of his own father. What business had he to put trust money—for surely that insurance money was that in reality—into such a risky concern as a South American gold mine? How could his father have been so foolish—he had almost said so wicked; but, inasmuch as all the old man's own money was invested in the same concern, he gladly altered the adjective to foolish. How should he ever tell her? How could he possibly soften down so hard and terrible a blow? What could he say to let her know how much he felt for her? He would always look upon that four thousand pounds as a debt that he owed to her and to her family. If not legally bound to repay her, he felt that morally he was responsible. Yet how could he possibly do it? He knew not how to provide for his own wants in the future, much less how to be able to save so large a sum.
Then he thought of the poor old man, dying in the next room; that he was dying, he had very little doubt. There was a look in his face which he had never seen there before, and he knew what that look meant—the soul was striving to escape from the poor worn-out body. And where was that soul going? Was his father ready for the great change so close upon him?
It was only lately that Captain Fortescue had felt the all-importance of knowing that the soul is safe for Eternity. But his regiment had been ordered out to the war, and, on the eve of a great battle, he was resting in his tent when three officers rode past it. They pulled up close to where he was, and stood still looking at the sunset, which was a very glorious one that evening. One of them—the eldest of the three—said as he looked across the valley at the long lines of the enemy—
"I wonder where we three will be when the sun sets to-morrow evening?"