Dejectedly enough, Gilbert showed the girl over the yacht—Daniel Meggison tailing behind, and expressing loud approval of everything. Then, so soon as it could be managed, the young man got rid of Bessie, and approached the father. For he had determined that now he would no longer mince matters.
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand the position, Meggison," said Gilbert, standing leaning over the side while the old man stood beside him. "What do you imagine I'm going to do; what do you think is going to happen, now that you have come here with Bessie?"
Mr. Daniel Meggison opened wide eyes of virtuous astonishment. "What am I going to do?" he echoed. "Is it possible that you imagined, sir, that I was going to allow my daughter to come here alone? Is it possible that you thought that her old father would be so neglectful of her interests as to permit such a thing? What in the name of all that's moral did you think I should do?"
That was a poser indeed; Gilbert bit his lip and said nothing. Mr. Daniel Meggison pursued his advantage relentlessly.
"My child, sir, has no mother," he went on in a subdued tone. "I have not been fortunate, Mr. Byfield, so far as the world is concerned, but yet I have held up my head. I have been father and mother too to my girl; she has never been able to complain that I have not watched over her. Consequently, when she comes to me, and in the joy of her girlish heart says to me—'Father—I love this man, and this man loves me'—I take her to my heart, and I rejoice with her. Nevertheless, sir"—Daniel Meggison wagged his head sternly at the other man—"nevertheless, knowing the ways of men, I say to myself that I must be careful, and I must be watchful. My suspicions are aroused when I learn that there is to be a secret stealing away from the house—with talk of a yacht—and a voyage—and unknown countries. When my child turns to me, and says naturally and simply—'You will of course come with me, father'—the tears gather in my eyes, and I know that all is well. Providence has arranged that I am to shepherd my child, after all. And here I am."
The difficulty lay, of course, in the fact that the old schemer was absolutely right; out of the lips of another man his words would have sounded magnificently indeed. Setting aside the fact that he had been working for himself, and had followed the girl simply because she led the way to that gold mine Daniel Meggison had discovered in his old age, the man was absolutely right in what he had done, and Gilbert had no word in reply. But after a moment or two he turned to Meggison, and said bitterly enough the only thing he felt he could say.
"Very well, Meggison—we will grant that you are right," he said. "But you must understand that I am not going to carry you about the world for your own pleasure; I shouldn't think of such a thing. Since the moment when I did a mad thing for the sake of this girl you have done your best to drain me; you have, in fact, announced your intention of living upon me for the rest of your life. Therefore I'll end the matter; since I cannot help Bessie without being preyed on by you for your own purposes, I will not help her at all. The game is ended; you can go back to that miserable, shiftless, shifty life you were living at the time I first met you. Take Bessie away, and let's put an end to the matter. I've done with it."
Daniel Meggison walked after him, and laid a detaining hand on his arm. "Not so fast, my young friend—not so fast," he urged. "For the sake of my child, and for the sake of the past, I will overlook certain references to what you term my miserable, shiftless, shifty existence; I will swallow that particular insult, as I have swallowed others. But this matter cannot be ended in the fashion you suggest. Nay more—it shall not be ended."
"We'll see about that," said Gilbert. "I give you fair warning that you are to get off this boat as soon as you can possibly manage it; you are to make what excuses you like to Bessie; and you are not to come back here, nor to go again to Fiddler's Green. In fact, so far as Fiddler's Green is concerned, I may tell you that I have given instructions to the servants there that your credit is stopped, and that you are not to be admitted if you go to the place again."
"I guessed as much," said Daniel, with a grin. "That was one reason why I pursued you here—because I really wanted you to understand that you can't take people up one minute, and drop them the next, like so many hot potatoes. I did not seek you, young man; you sought me; consequently you've got to put up with me. I decline to go."