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Father might live another ten years though I don't think so and I couldn't have stood it. He was lapping me in the mud." "He doesn't lap Tarboe in the mud." "No, and he wouldn't have lapped you in the mud, because you've got imagination, and you think wide and long when you want to. But I'm middle-class in business. I've got no genius for the game.
To the second class belonged Fabian Grier and his wife; to the third class belonged Luke Tarboe. Only one person seemed to understand it by intuition: Junia. Somehow, nothing Carnac did changed Junia's views of him, or surprised her, though he made her indignant often enough. To her mind, however, in the big things, his actions always had reasonableness.
No envy moved him, his soul was free from malice. Evidently Tarboe was a man of power. Ruthless he might be, ruthless and unsparing, but a man of power. At that instant a clerk entered with a letter in his hand. "Mrs. Grier said to give you this," he remarked to Carnac, handing it to him. Carnac took it and the clerk departed.
"It's a lie, and I'll go and see Roudin at once. . . . You've been a good friend to me in the fight, Tarboe, and I'd like a talk when it's all over." "That'll be easy enough, Grier. Don't make any mistake-this is a big thing you're doing; and if a Protestant Britisher can beat a Catholic Frenchman in his own habitant seat, it's the clinching of Confederation. We'll talk it over when you've won."
"I guess so," answered Tarboe, but without conviction in his tone. "I'm not sure whether it will be like that or not, but I know you've got a son as honest as the stars, and the honest man gets his own in the end." There was silence for some time, then the old man began walking up and down the room, softly, noiselessly. "You talk sense," he said.
"Every one hasn't thrown you over. Mr. Tarboe hasn't. You've been in great spirits about him. What's the matter?" He waved a hand savagely at her, with an almost insane look in his eyes. "What's he to me! He's a man of business. In a business way I like him, but I want my own flesh and blood by me in my business. I wanted Carnac, and he wouldn't come a few weeks only he came.
It had something to do with a so-called secret marriage, and it would be good to get hold of the man, Roudin, as soon as possible. A secret marriage! So the thing had, after all, been bruited and used- what was the source of the information? Who was responsible? He must go to the mill at once, and he started for it. On the way he met Luke Tarboe. "There's trouble down at the mill," Tarboe said.
There came a knock at the outer door, and before that of her own room opened, she recognized the step of the visitor. So it was Tarboe had come. He remembered that day in the street when he met Junia, and was shown there were times when a woman could not be approached with emotion.
Eunice, on the mainland, but would gladly have taken to wife the daughter of Tarboe the smuggler, and it is likely that the cure of either parish would not have advised against it. Joan had had the taste of the lawless, and now she knew, as she sat and listened to Bissonnette's music, that she also could dance for joy, in the hope of a taste of the lawful.
"Does Tarboe come here?" "He's been here twice." "Visiting?" "No. He came on urgent business. There was trouble between our two river-driving camps. He wanted my help to straighten things out, and he got it. He's pretty quick on the move." "He wanted you to let him settle it?" "He settled it, and I agreed. He knows how to handle men; I'll say that for him.
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