“Valiant”—certainly Jeremiah Meridian Sumption was a hardy, healthy little beggar.
But Mr. Sumption was not deceived.
“Valiant in body, maybe. But, Tom, I fear for his immortal soul.”
Tom did not know wat to say. He had never before seen the minister without his glorious pretence of faith in his son.
“It’s strange,” continued Mr. Sumption, “but from his birth that boy was seemingly marked out by Satan. Maybe it was the bad blood of the Rossarmescroes or Hearns; his mother was the sweetest, loveliest soul that ever slept under a bush; but there’s no denying that the Hearns’ blood is bad blood—roving, thieving, lusting, Satanic blood—and he’s got it in him, has my boy, more than he’s got the decent blood of my fathers.”
“Has he written to you lately?”
“Oh, he writes now and again. He’s fond of me. But he doesn’t sound happy. Then Bill Putland, when he came home to get married, he told me——”
There was silence, and Tom fidgeted.
“He told me as Jerry had got hold of a French girl in one of the towns—a bad lot, seemingly.”