He did not add that he had paced up and down for an hour in his bedroom
after retiring for the night, peering out into the darkness in great
anxiety for his son's safety.
"Very interesting, father; nothing less than a ducking on the Rock
Bridge! The storm was raging furiously there, and a girl was crossing
in the midst of it; she was in some danger, and I was able to help her
to cross in safety."
"One of our congregation?" asked the old man.
"By Jove! no, father; there isn't one girl under seventy in our
congregation!"
"A Methodist, then, I suppose--one of Essec Powell's lot?"
"Yes," said Cardo, beginning to redden; "but surely you wouldn't let a
woman be drowned without making an effort to save her because she was a
Methodist?"
"I did not say so, Cardo; but certainly I should prefer my son's
risking his life for a member of the church."
Cardo made a gesture of impatience which his father saw and felt. It
irritated him, and, fixing his eyes steadily on his son's face, he said: "I don't know how it is, but of late that subject has frequently been
on your tongue. I have no cause to love the Methodists, and I hope
they are not now going to add to my reasons for disliking them by
coming between me and my son. I simply wish you not to mention them to
me, Cardo--that is not much to ask."
"I will not, father," said Cardo, pushing his plate away; "I will never
mention them to you again--"
"Good!" replied his father. "I have a letter here which I would like
to read to you, but not this morning, as I am very busy."
"All right, father--in the afternoon," said Cardo; and when Betto
appeared to clear away the breakfast things he was lost in a profound
reverie, his long legs stretched out before him and his hands buried
deep in his pocket.
Betto tried in vain to recall him to outward surroundings by clattering
her china and by sundry "h'ms" and coughs, but Cardo still remained
buried in thought and jingling his money in his pocket. At last she
accidentally jerked his head with her elbow.
"Hello, Betto! what is the matter?"
"My dear boy," said Betto, "did I hurt you? Where were you so late
last night?"
"Oh, out in the storm. Have you seen my wet clothes? I flung them out
through my bedroom window; you will find them in a heap on the garden
wall."
"Wet clothes? Caton pawb! did you get in the sea then?"
"Oh, yes! tumbled over and over like a pebble on the beach," he said,
rising; "but you know such duckings are nothing to me; I enjoy them!"