Larry had assembled his effects in the library, and to
my surprise, Stoddard appeared with his own hand-bag.
"I'm going to see Donovan well on his way," said the
clergyman.
"It's a pity our party must break up," exclaimed my
grandfather. "My obligations to Mr. Donovan are very
great-and to you, too, Stoddard. Jack's friends are
mine hereafter, and when we get new doors for Glenarm
House you shall honor me by accepting duplicate
keys."
"Where's Bates?" asked Larry, and the man came in,
respectfully, inperturbably as always, and began gathering
up the bags.
"Stop-one moment! Mr. Glenarm," said Larry.
"Before I go I want to congratulate you on the splendid
courage of this man who has served you and your house
with so much faithfulness and tact. And I want to tell
you something else, that you probably would never learn
from him-"
"Donovan!" There was a sharp cry in Bates' voice,
and he sprang forward with his hands outstretched entreatingly.
But Larry did not heed him.
"The moment I set eyes on this man I recognized
him. It's not fair to you or to him that you should not
know him for what he is. Let me introduce an old
friend, Walter Creighton; he was a student at Dublin
when I was there,-I remember him as one of the best
fellows in the world."
"For God's sake-no!" pleaded Bates. He was deeply
moved and turned his face away from us.
"But, like me," Larry went on, "he mixed in politics.
One night in a riot at Dublin a constable was killed.
No one knew who was guilty, but a youngster was suspected,
-the son of one of the richest and best-known
men in Ireland, who happened to get mixed in the row.
To draw attention from the boy, Creighton let suspicion
attach to his own name, and, to help the boy's case
further, ran away. I had not heard from or of him until
the night I came here and found him the defender of
this house. By God! that was no servant's trick,-it was
the act of a royal gentleman."
They clasped hands; and with a new light in his face,
with a new manner, as though he resumed, as a familiar
garment, an old disused personality, Bates stood transfigured
in the twilight, a man and a gentleman. I think
we were all drawn to him; I know that a sob clutched
my throat and tears filled my eyes as I grasped his hand.
"But what in the devil did you do it for?" blurted
my grandfather, excitedly twirling his glasses.
Bates (I still call him Bates,-he insists on it)
laughed. For the first time he thrust his hands into his
pockets and stood at his ease, one of us.
"Larry, you remember I showed a fondness for the
stage in our university days. When I got to America I
had little money and found it necessary to find employment
without delay. I saw Mr. Glenarm's advertisement
for a valet. Just as a lark I answered it to see
what an American gentleman seeking a valet looked
like. I fell in love with Mr. Glenarm at sight-"