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Herbert Heathcote's father had been a great man in his time, self-created, a famous merchant, an able party worker, in thorough touch with American life, and he had served for many years as the honored chairman of the national committee, although in a moment of weakness he had sent his son abroad to be educated.
They had found themselves compelled to differ from him, but were oppressed at finding themselves in opposition to him. The feeling that his wife should in any way take part against him added greatly to Heathcote's trouble. It produced in his mind a terrible feeling of loneliness in his sorrow.
What Harry knew was that since Medlicot had come he had lost his sheep, that the heads of three or four had been found buried on Medlicot's side of his run, and that if he dismissed "a hand," Medlicot employed him a proceeding which, in Harry Heathcote's aristocratic and patriarchal views of life, was altogether ungentleman-like.
'One good result, at all events, will be effected by Heathcote's visit, said O'Mara. 'Before twenty-four hours I shall do that which I should have done long ago. I shall, without reserve, state everything. I can no longer endure this suspense this dishonourable secrecy this apparent dissimulation.
He was Harry Heathcote's equal in education, intelligence, and fortune, if not in birth which surely, in the Australian bush, need not count for much. He had assumed, when first meeting the squatter, that good-fellowship between them, on equal terms, would be acceptable to both; but his overtures had been coldly received.
Heathcote's leaving the country with some wrong impression on this important subject and was determined that he should be put in possession of all the information she had or imagined herself to have about it. She talked to him about it so much that the poor man was at incredible pains to keep out of her way.
"Come, Jerry," said the old man, somewhat relenting in his wrath, "you might as well give us a drop, as it's going about." The two brothers, who had now been thoroughly aroused from their sleep, and who had heard the enticing sound of the spirit bottle, joined the party, and so they drank all round. "Heathcote's in an awful state about them fires, ain't he?" asked Jerry.
It was useless to continue to argue with a person who could not apparently be moved by anything he said. The doctor stepped forward. "Miss Harford," he said abruptly, "you have heard Major Heathcote's side of the question; you already know the other. As I told you before, we are in your hands. What are you going to do?" Strive as he would he could not keep the note of anxiety out of his voice.
He saw himself petted and admired, and in the course of time he felt himself a person of importance. Is not that natural, too?" He paused and looked over the audience, which was silent and attentive, held by the interest of something unusual and the deep, almost painful, earnestness of Mr. Heathcote's manner. "What's he coming to?" whispered Hobart. "I don't know; wait and see," replied Harley.
I chanced to be in Wrangel on June 30, Memorial Day, and noticing a procession of children clothed in white, several veterans of the Civil War and a number of citizens, I followed them to the cemetery and witnessed a very touching sight. To my surprise I noticed that Constable Heathcote's was the first grave decorated with bouquets and sweet-smelling flowers by kind and loving hands.
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