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Updated: May 24, 2025
An odd incident occurred during our brief stay in New York. It was after the interview in which we came to terms with the captain, and he had given us leave for three hours ashore. "Cooling drinks!" exclaimed Dennis. "There's cakes yonder," said Alister. "Michael Macartney," muttered I, for that was the name over the door.
The former had a rather remarkable career; for he was born, in 1764, quite of the lower rank, and was successively a clerk in a workshop, a sailor, a teacher of mathematics, and secretary to Macartney on his famous embassy to China.
He was watching the living room door, quite palpably, and it struck me abruptly that I had not far to seek for Marcia Wilbraham's reason for staying the winter at La Chance. But I might have taken more interest in that and in Macartney, the new mine superintendent, too, if the girl sitting by the fire had not seen Marcia in the doorway and risen to her feet.
These were the objects of their solicitude. These were the necessities for which they were studious to provide. On this Lord Macartney grounds his calculations, and on this they choose to ground theirs.
This unexpected question was the more embarrassing to Macartney, because, long before Gordon was appointed, rumour had freely credited him with coveting the command of the Ever Victorious Army in succession to Burgevine, and, as a matter of fact, the Chinese authorities had wished him to have the command.
But the scrawl broke off in a long pencil line, where death had jerked Thompson's elbow, and his card had fallen from his hand. I sat on the floor and saw the thing. Macartney, hidden in Skunk's Misery, making plans to get openly and with decent excuse to La Chance, had fallen on Thompson and used him.
I wish you would write out what you have told me, so that I might show it to him." Dr Macartney wrote out his narrative, and with it he sent Gordon's original letter to Li Hung Chang. Those documents have never been published, but they should still exist in the Shanghai Consulate. A considerable period intervened between the breakfast scene at Quinsan and Gordon's next meeting with Macartney.
Therefore what was done was inevitable. But Gordon had no part in it, and whatever he demands to clear himself shall be done." I do not gather that Sir Halliday Macartney had any serious misgivings about this mission when he undertook it.
"But I didn't mean old Thompson. He's been gone for a month, and we've a new man. His name's Macartney, and he's been here two weeks." It was news to me, if it was also an example of the way Dudley Wilbraham ran his mine. But before I could speak Marcia nodded significantly down the passage to the living room door.
"'The Prodigal Son' is indeed a notable novel; and a work that may certainly rank with the best of recent fiction...." Westminster Gazette. "A beautiful romance of the days of Robert Burns." Nancy Stair. A Novel. By Elinor Macartney Lane, author of "Mills of God." Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.
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