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Noting all this Father Honoré read deeper still; he knew that Champney Googe had not told him the whole, possibly not the half and never would tell. His next question convinced him of that. "May I ask what became of the young girl you loved? Don't answer, if I am asking too much." "I don't know. I have never heard from her. I can only surmise.
"He is your brother, Warren Googe's son don't make me say any more, Almeda Champney; you know that nothing but this, nothing on earth could have brought me here to ask anything of you!" There was a ring of the old-time haughty independence in her voice; Octavius rejoiced to hear it. "She's getting a grip on herself," he said to himself; "I hope she'll give her one 'fore she gets through with her."
That was all she said then; but she laid her hand on his shoulder when they went in to dinner, and Champney knew she was satisfied.
Champney listened for the Colonel's answer with a suspended hope that he might give Elmer Wiggins "one," as he said to himself. He still owed the latter gentleman a grudge because in the past he had been, as it were, the fountain head of all in his youthful misery in supplying ample portions of the never-to-be-forgotten oil of the castor bean and dried senna leaves.
"I must remind you, Champney," he said, with freezing deliberation, "that Miss Miranda Dows and her niece now represent the Drummond Company equally with myself, and that you cannot expect me to listen to any reflections upon the way they choose to administer their part in its affairs, either now, or to come.
Champney, for he trusted me. He told me he was going to educate the boy and start him well in life, and that he wasn't going to end there; he told me he was going to leave him forty thousand dollars, Mrs.
Caukins," he said when he came out, "and told her how things stand; that I'd try to get Poggi, and that I sha'n't be at home to-night. She says tell Aileen to tell Mrs. Champney she will esteem it a great favor if she will let her come up to-night; she has one of her nervous headaches and doesn't want to be alone with the children and 'Lias. You could take her up, couldn't you?"
Then the two men stood silent, gazing into each other's eyes, while the firelight leaped and showed to each the other's face the priest's working with a powerful emotion he was struggling to control; Champney Googe's apparently calm, but in reality tense with anxiety. He spoke first: "I want to know about my mother is she well?"
"But I'm not telling you any news; of course, you've had it all." "Yes, all and a surfeit. I was glad to get away to this hill-quiet." Champney sat down on the thick rusty-red matting of pine needles and turned to him, a question in his eyes. Father Honoré smiled. "What is it?" he said. "May I ask if it was your own choice coming up here to us?" "Yes, my deliberate choice.
And the puppy, whose name was Ragamuffin and called Rag for short, came duly, unknowing, like his young master, to meet his fate. He wriggled broad-side down the walk as a puppy will in his first joy till, overpowered by his emotions, he rolled over on his back at Champney's feet, the fringes of his four legs waving madly in air. "Champney, I'm waiting for you."
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