Larry could not have told why he kept silent so long in regard to the truth of the trial. It might have been a vague liking to watch the workings of his son’s real self and a desire to test him to the full. From a hint dropped in Betty’s letter he guessed shrewdly at the truth of the situation. He knew now that Richard and his young friend of the mountain top were actuated by the same motives, and 470 he understood at last why Harry King would never accept his offer of help, nor would ever call him father. Because he could not take the place of the son, of whom, as he thought, he had robbed the man who so freely offered him friendship––and more than friendship. At last Larry understood why Peter Junior had never yielded to his advances. It was honor, and the test had been severe.
“Put it off a little? I might––I’m tempted––just to get acquainted with my father––but I might be arrested, and I would prefer not to be. I know I’ve been wanted for three years and over––it has taken me that long to learn that only the truth can make a man free,––and now I would rather give myself up, than to be taken––”
“I’m knowing maybe more of the matter than you think––so we’ll drop it. We must have a long talk later––but tell me now in a few words what you can.”
Then, drawn by the older man’s gentle, magnetic sympathy, Richard unlocked his heart and told all of his life that could be crowded in those few short minutes,––of his boyhood’s longings for a father of his own––of his young manhood’s love, of his flight, and a little of his later life. “We’d be great chums, now, father,––if––if it weren’t for this––that hangs over me.”
Then Larry could stand it no longer. He sprang up and clapped Richard on the shoulder. “Come, lad, come! We’ll go to this trial together. Do you know who’s being tried? No. They’ll have to get this off before they can take another on. I’m thinking you’ll find your case none so bad as it seems to you now. First there’s a thing I must do. My brother-in-law’s in trouble––but it is his own fault––still I’m a mind to help him out. He’s a fine 471 hater, that brother-in-law of mine, but he’s tried to do a father’s part in the past by you––and done it well, while I’ve been soured. In the gladness of my heart I’ll help him out––I’d made up my mind to do it before I left my mountain. Your father’s a rich man, boy––with money in store for you––I say it in modesty, but he who reared you has been my enemy. Now I’m going to his bank, and there I’ll make a deposit that will save it from ruin.”
He stood a moment chuckling, with both hands thrust deep in his pockets. “We’ll go to that trial––it’s over an affair of his, and he’s fair in the wrong. We’ll go and watch his discomfiture––and we’ll see him writhe. We’ll see him carry things his own way––the only way he can ever see––and then we’ll watch him––man, we’ll watch him––Oh, my boy, my boy! I doubt it’s wrong for me to exult over his chagrin, but that’s what I’m going for now. It was the other way before I met you, but the finding of you has given me a light heart, and I’ll watch that brother-in-law’s set-down with right good will.”
He told Richard about Amalia, and asked him to wait until he fetched her, as he wished her to accompany them, but still he said nothing to him about his cousin Peter. He found Amalia descending the long flight of stairs, dressed to go out, and knew she had been awaiting him for the last half hour. Now he led her into the little parlor, while Richard paced up and down the piazza, and there, where she could see him as he passed the window to and fro, Larry told her what had come to him, and even found time to moralize over it, in his gladness.
“That’s it. A man makes up his mind to do what’s right regardless of all consequences or his prejudices, or what 472 not,––and from that moment all begins to grow clear, and he sees right––and things come right. Now look at the man! He’s a fine lad, no? They’re both fine lads––but this one’s mine. Look at him I say. Things are to come right for him, and all through his making up his mind to come back here and stand to his guns. The same way with Harry King. I’ve told you the contention––and at last you know who he is––but mind you, no word yet to my son. I’ll tell him as we walk along. I’m to stop at the bank first, and if we tell him too soon, he’ll be for going to the courthouse straight. The landlord tells me there’s danger of a run on the bank to-morrow and the only reason it hasn’t come to-day is that the bank’s been closed all the morning for the trial. I’m thinking that was policy, for whoever heard of a bank’s being closed in the morning for a trial––or anything short of a death or a holiday?”
“But if it is now closed, why do we wait to go there? It is to do nothing we make delay,” said Amalia, anxiously.
“I told Decker to send word to the cashier to be there, as a deposit is to be made. If he can’t be there for that, then it’s his own fault if to-morrow finds him unprepared.” Larry stepped out to meet Richard and introduced Amalia. He had already told Richard a little of her history, and now he gave her her own name, Manovska.