“And why does the young man come here under an assumed name, and when he is discovered, claim to be my 379 son? The only claim he could make that could save him! If he knows anything, he knows that if he pretends he is my son––laboring under the belief that he has killed Richard Kildene––when he knows Richard’s death can be disproved by your daughter’s statement that she saw and talked with Richard––he knows that he may be released from the charge of murder and may establish himself here as the man whom he himself threw over the bluff, and who, therefore, can never return to give him the lie. I say––if this is proved on him, he shall suffer the extreme penalty of the law, or there is no justice in the land.”
Bertrand rose, sadly shaken. “This is a very terrible accusation, my friend. Let us hope it may not be proved true. I will go home and ask Betty. You will take her testimony before that of the Swede?”
“If you are my friend, why are you willing my son should be proven a murderer? It is a deep-laid scheme, and Richard Kildene walks close in his father’s steps. I have always seen his father in him. I tried to save him for my sister’s sake. I brought him up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord, and did for him all that fathers do for their sons, and now I have the fool’s reward––the reward of the man who warmed the viper in his bosom. He, to come here and sit in my son’s place––to eat bread at my table––at my wife’s right hand––with her smile in his eyes? Rather he shall––”
“We will find out the truth, and, if possible, you shall be saved from yourself, Elder Craigmile, and your son will not be proven a murderer. Let me still be your friend.” Bertrand’s voice thrilled with suppressed emotion and the sympathy he could not utter, as he held out his hand, which 380 the Elder took in both his own shaking ones. His voice trembled with suppressed emotion as he spoke.
“Pray God Hester may stay where she is until this thing is over. And pray God you may not be blinded by love of your daughter, who was not true to my son. She was promised to become his wife, but through all these years she protects by her silence the murderer of her lover. Ponder on this thought, Bertrand Ballard, and pray God you may have the strength to be just.”
Bertrand walked homeward with bowed head. It was Saturday. The day’s baking was in progress, and Mary Ballard was just removing a pan of temptingly browned tea cakes from the oven when he entered. She did not see his face as he asked, “Mary, where can I find Betty?”
“Upstairs in the studio, drawing. Where would you expect to find her?” she said gayly. Something in her husband’s voice touched her. She hastily lifted the cakes from the pan and ran after him.
“What is it, dear?”
He was halfway up the stairs and he turned and came back to her. “I’ve heard something that troubles me, and must see her alone, Mary. I’ll talk with you about it later. Don’t let us be disturbed until we come down.”
“I think Janey is with her now.”