“All you made up at the Yukon goldfields?” asked Prudence, alarm in her voice.
“Every cent.”
There followed a dead silence.
“Then–––” Mrs. Malling could get no further.
“I’m broke––dead broke. And I’m going East to sell my land to pay off my debts. I’ve had an offer for it, and I’m going to clinch the deal quick. Say, I just came along here to see you, and I’m going on at once. I only got into Winnipeg yesterday. I rode out without delay, but struck the Ainsley trail, or I should have been here sooner. Now, see here, mother,” Hervey went on, as a woe-begone expression closely verging on tears came into the old dame’s eyes, “it’s no use crying over this business. What’s done is done. I’m going to get clear of my farm first, and maybe afterwards I’ll come here again and we’ll talk things over a bit.”
Prudence sat staring at her brother, but Hervey avoided her gaze. Mrs. Malling was too heartbroken to speak yet. Her weather-tanned face had blanched as much as it was possible for it to do. Her boy had 74 gone out upon the world to seek his fortune, and he had succeeded in establishing himself, he had written and told her. He had found gold in quantities in the Yukon valley, and now––now, at last, he had failed. The shock had for the moment crushed her; her boy, her proud independent boy, as she had been wont to consider him, had failed. She did not ask herself, or him, the reason of his failure. Such failure, she felt, must be through no fault of his, but the result of adverse circumstances.
She never thought of the gambling-table. She never thought of reckless living. Such things could not enter her simple mind and be in any way associated with her boy. Hephzibah Malling loved her son; to her he was the king who could do no wrong. She continued to gaze blankly in the man’s direction.
Sarah Gurridge alone of the trio allowed herself sidelong, speculative glances at the man’s face. She had seen the furtive overhead glances; the steady avoidance of the loving observation of his womankind. She had known Hervey as well, and perhaps just a shade better than his mother and sister had; and long since, in his childish school-days, she had detected a lurking weakness in an otherwise good character. She wondered now if he had lived to outgrow that juvenile trait, or had it grown with him, gaining strength as the greater passions of manhood developed?
After the first shock of Hervey’s announcement had passed, Mrs. Malling sought refuge in the consolation of her own ability to help her son. He must never know want, or suffer the least privation. She 75 could and would give him everything he needed. Besides, after all, she argued with womanly feeling, now perhaps she could persuade him to look after the farm for her; to stay by her side. He should be in no way dependent. She would install him as manager at a comfortable salary. The idea pleased her beyond measure, and it was with difficulty she could keep herself from at once putting her proposal into words. However, by a great effort, she checked her enthusiasm.
“Then when do you think of going East?” she asked, with some trepidation. “You won’t go at once, sure.”