Guy spoke rapidly, determined to make a clean breast of it, but
grandpa understood him, and bowing his white head upon his bosom, the
big tears dropped like rain upon the turf, while his lips quivered,
first with thanks to the Providence who had truly done all things
well, and next with thanks to his benefactor.
"Blessings on your head, young man, for making me so happy. You are
worthy of your father, and he was the best of men."
"My father--did you know him?" Guy asked, in some surprise, and then
the story came out, how, years before, when a city hotel was on fire,
and one of its guests in imminent danger from the locality of his
room, and his own nervous fear which made him powerless to act,
another guest braved fearlessly the hissing flame, and scaling the
tottering wall, dragged out to life and liberty one who, until that
hour, was to him an utter stranger.
Pushing back his snowy hair, Grandfather Markham showed upon his
temple a long, white scar, obtained the night when he periled his own
life to save that of another. There was a doubly warm pressure now of
the old man's hand, as Guy replied, "I've heard that story from father
himself, but the name of his preserver had escaped me. Why didn't you
tell me who you were?"
"I thought 'twould look too much like demanding it as a right--too
much like begging, and I s'pose I felt too proud. Pride is my
besetting sin--the one I pray most against."
Guy looked keenly now at the man whose besetting sin was pride, and as
he marked the cheapness of his attire, his pantaloons faded and short,
his coat worn threadbare and shabby, his shoes both patched at the
toes, his cotton shirt minus a bosom, and then thought of the humble
cottage, with its few rocky acres, he wondered of what he could be
proud.
Meantime, for Maddy, Dr. Holbrook had prescribed perfect quiet,
bidding them darken again the window from which the shade had been
removed, and ordering all save the grandmother to leave the room and
let the patient sleep, if possible. Even Jessie was not permitted to
stay, though Maddy clung to her as to a dear friend. In a few
whispered words Jessie had told her name, saying she came from
Aikenside, and that her Brother Guy was there, too, outdoors, in the
carriage. "He heard how sick you were at Devonshire, this morning, and
drove right home for me to come to see you. I told him of you that day
in the office, and that's why he brought me, I guess. You'll like Guy.
I know all the girls do--he's so good."