John Gaunt was deeply moved by the knowledge that his wife loved him, and he felt that half the battle was over; but upon carefully thinking over what she had said, his confidence vanished, for he realized that she possessed a will as strong as his own, and that many a weary day might pass before she would give herself to him.
At first he was inclined to accuse her of inconsistency for he had never judged her to be a good woman in the ordinary sense of the word. But she had spoken with such feeling that he could not doubt that she was honest in her loathing of his past.
It is a curious trait in such men as Gaunt that they can love if they do not respect the object of their affections, and he had never been blind to his wife’s faults. Now he found it necessary to regard her from a different point of view and he was not dissatisfied that this should be so. So long as there had been no child, he had been content that she should think of nothing save her present comfort and enjoyment, but now he was glad that the mother of his son had shown that she could rise above such considerations.
Soon there came the memory of her scathing words, and he began to pace restlessly to and fro. Yes—her accusations were just, and slowly the scales fell from his eyes and he saw his actions in their true light. It is not a pleasant moment in a man’s life when he first understands that his character is base, but to a few comes this revelation of self.
Gaunt was not given to analyzing his own character, but for a long time he sat and thought over the many discreditable actions of which he had been guilty. True, there were no mean and petty sins, for if he had deliberately done wrong it had been with the idea of reaping a substantial benefit.
It was strange that he should now be thinking of himself with something akin to contempt, but soon the mood changed and he concentrated all his brains upon devising some plan of winning his wife. For the moment all memory of his vow had vanished, and it was solely with the idea of pleasing Lady Mildred that he now sought a scheme to benefit the natives of the Congo.
He idly took up one of the daily papers that were spread out on the table and in great staring head-lines read of the meeting of the previous evening. The comments were varied, and in many cases not too favorable to himself, but he passed them by with a grim smile.
The Daily Comet was particularly virulent: “The finishing touch to an hysterical meeting was put by the notorious millionaire John Gaunt. With calm effrontery he admitted that he was a participator in the alleged outrages and with his tongue in his cheek promised to give his wealth and apply his brains to the amelioration of the lot of the natives of the Congo. Apparently his offer was received with acclamation, and it is strange indeed that a meeting, which consisted chiefly of divines of various creeds, should welcome into its fold a man with Gaunt’s record. If rumor speaks truly, the Congo is not the worst part of the millionaire’s past. With due respect for the law of libel, we suggest that his hands are not too clean with respect to some of his numerous company promotions. We have heard a story with reference to a deal in Amanti shares, to which we may have occasion to refer more particularly at a future date. In the meantime we intend to follow closely John Gaunt’s footsteps in the path of unctuous righteousness.”
The paper fluttered to the ground and Gaunt did not move for a few moments, but there was a curious smile on his face. Ahead he could see a fight, and he was ready for the fray.
There was a knock at the door, and he turned round to see Drake enter followed by a tall man whose tanned skin spoke of long residence in a tropical climate.