CHAPTER XVIII. NEIL GORDON SOLVES HIS OWN PROBLEM
"It is a miracle!" said Thomas Gordon in an awed tone.
It was the first time he had spoken since Eric and Kilmeny had
rushed in, hand in hand, like two children intoxicated with joy
and wonder, and gasped out their story together to him and Janet.
"Oh, no, it is very wonderful, but it is not a miracle," said
Eric. "David told me it might happen. I had no hope that it
would. He could explain it all to you if he were here."
Thomas Gordon shook his head. "I doubt if he could, Master--he,
or any one else. It is near enough to a miracle for me. Let us
thank God reverently and humbly that he has seen fit to remove
his curse from the innocent. Your doctors may explain it as they
like, lad, but I'm thinking they won't get much nearer to it than
that. It is awesome, that is what it is. Janet, woman, I feel
as if I were in a dream. Can Kilmeny really speak?"
"Indeed I can, Uncle," said Kilmeny, with a rapturous glance at
Eric. "Oh, I don't know how it came to me--I felt that I MUST
speak--and I did. And it is so easy now--it seems to me as if I
could always have done it."
She spoke naturally and easily. The only difficulty which she
seemed to experience was in the proper modulation of her voice.
Occasionally she pitched it too high--again, too low. But it was
evident that she would soon acquire perfect control of it. It
was a beautiful voice--very clear and soft and musical.
"Oh, I am so glad that the first word I said was your name,
dearest," she murmured to Eric.
"What about Neil?" asked Thomas Gordon gravely, rousing himself
with an effort from his abstraction of wonder. "What are we to
do with him when he returns? In one way this is a sad business."
Eric had almost forgotten about Neil in his overwhelming
amazement and joy. The realization of his escape from sudden and
violent death had not yet had any opportunity to take possession
of his thoughts.
"We must forgive him, Mr. Gordon. I know how I should feel
towards a man who took Kilmeny from me. It was an evil impulse
to which he gave way in his suffering--and think of the good
which has resulted from it."
"That is true, Master, but it does not alter the terrible fact
that the boy had murder in his heart,--that he would have killed
you. An over-ruling Providence has saved him from the actual
commission of the crime and brought good out of evil; but he is
guilty in thought and purpose. And we have cared for him and
instructed him as our own--with all his faults we have loved him!
It is a hard thing, and I do not see what we are to do. We
cannot act as if nothing had happened. We can never trust him
again."
But Neil Gordon solved the problem himself. When Eric returned
that night he found old Robert Williamson in the pantry regaling
himself with a lunch of bread and cheese after a trip to the
station. Timothy sat on the dresser in black velvet state and
gravely addressed himself to the disposal of various tid-bits
that came his way.
"Good night, Master. Glad to see you're looking more like
yourself. I told the wife it was only a lover's quarrel most
like. She's been worrying about you; but she didn't like to ask
you what was the trouble. She ain't one of them unfortunate
folks who can't be happy athout they're everlasting poking their
noses into other people's business. But what kind of a rumpus
was kicked up at the Gordon place, to-night, Master?"
Eric looked amazed. What could Robert Williamson have heard so
soon?
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"Why, us folks at the station knew there must have been a to-do
of some kind when Neil Gordon went off on the harvest excursion
the way he did."
"Neil gone! On the harvest excursion!" exclaimed Eric.
"Yes, sir. You know this was the night the excursion train left.
They cross on the boat to-night--special trip. There was a dozen
or so fellows from hereabouts went. We was all standing around
chatting when Lincoln Frame drove up full speed and Neil jumped
out of his rig. Just bolted into the office, got his ticket and
out again, and on to the train without a word to any one, and as
black looking as the Old Scratch himself. We was all too
surprised to speak till he was gone. Lincoln couldn't give us
much information. He said Neil had rushed up to their place
about dark, looking as if the constable was after him, and
offered to sell that black filly of his to Lincoln for sixty
dollars if Lincoln would drive him to the station in time to
catch the excursion train. The filly was Neil's own, and Lincoln
had been wanting to buy her but Neil would never hear to it
afore. Lincoln jumped at the chance. Neil had brought the filly
with him, and Lincoln hitched right up and took him to the
station. Neil hadn't no luggage of any kind and wouldn't open
his mouth the whole way up, Lincoln says. We concluded him and
old Thomas must have had a row. D'ye know anything about it? Or
was you so wrapped up in sweethearting that you didn't hear or
see nothing else?"
Eric reflected rapidly. He was greatly relieved to find that
Neil had gone. He would never return and this was best for all
concerned. Old Robert must be told a part of the truth at least,
since it would soon become known that Kilmeny could speak.
"There was some trouble at the Gordon place to-night, Mr.
Williamson," he said quietly. "Neil Gordon behaved rather badly
and frightened Kilmeny terribly,--so terribly that a very
surprising thing has happened. She has found herself able to
speak, and can speak perfectly."
Old Robert laid down the piece of cheese he was conveying to his
mouth on the point of a knife and stared at Eric in blank
amazement.
"God bless my soul, Master, what an extraordinary thing!" he
ejaculated. "Are you in earnest? Or are you trying to see how
much of a fool you can make of the old man?"
"No, Mr. Williamson, I assure you it is no more than the simple
truth. Dr. Baker told me that a shock might cure her,--and it
has. As for Neil, he has gone, no doubt for good, and I think it
well that he has."
Not caring to discuss the matter further, Eric left the kitchen.
But as he mounted the stairs to his room he heard old Robert
muttering, like a man in hopeless bewilderment,
"Well, I never heard anything like this in all my born
days--never--never. Timothy, did YOU ever hear the like? Them
Gordons are an unaccountable lot and no mistake. They couldn't
act like other people if they tried. I must wake mother up and
tell her about this, or I'll never be able to sleep."
