University of Virginia Library

17. CHAPTER XVII.
SMARTNESS AND HONOR.

But with Paul Freeman, the master of
Wahtahree dealt less lightly.

“How am I to trust you again?” asked he
of him. “You have thoroughly deceived me
—you have trapped me into connivance with
you in shielding an accused criminal from the
law—you have lied to me, for you said the
child was your brother!”

“No, sir!” interposed Paul; “I never said
downright that it was my brother, and I never
said that I had a brother at all.”

“Prevarication!” exclaimed Brent contemptuously—“it
is worse than lying, because
more cowardly. That defence is the very
worst you could have selected.”

“Well, then, sir,” replied Paul, throwing
up his head a little haughtily, “since you
think so bad of me, you had better let me go
at once. I am sure I don't want to stop with
a man that a'n't going to believe a word I say,
or trust me about his work. I think I did just
what was right by Ruth—placed as she was;
and if you don't, why, sir, we'd better part,
and the sooner the better.”

“If you think so, you had better go,” replied
Brent coldly.

“Well, I will. Ruthie and I will go along
with the men to-morrow.”

“You may, if you see fit—Ruth remains
here.”

“What, sir! you don't mean to keep her
away from me!” exclaimed Paul in a tone of
angry incredulity.

“I am going to keep her. You are free to
go or stay,” repeated Brent calmly.

“Why, sir, what good is she to you; and
what do you care for her? Maybe you think
of sending her back to Milvor to be tried for
murder.”

“What if I do, Paul Freeman? She is under
the ban of the law, and perhaps that is
my duty.”

The boy clenched his fists, and shut his
teeth hard together, looked at Brent, and
made no reply.

The latter returned the look with one of
calm superiority for a moment, and then slowly
said:

“The matter is in my hands completely,
you see, lad; and although I have no intention
of sending the child back to Milvor, and
do not believe her guilty of her father's murder,
you are none the less a law-breaker yourself
in bringing her away, and she one in
coming. I shall not send her back to Milvor,
but neither shall I permit her to leave this
place with you. I will keep her under my
own eye.”

“I don't want to be impudent, Mr. Brent,
but isn't it law-breaking for you to keep her
just as much as it was for me to take her?”
asked Paul shrewdly.

The question was one which had already
risen with troublesome persistency in Brent's
own mind, and he answered it from the lips
of another, as he had answered it to himself:

“Here, in the woods, I have a right to take
the law in some measure into my own hands. I
must decide for myself many questions which,
elsewhere, would be decided for me.”

Paul Freeman stared for a moment, considered
the question, and then said heartily:

“Well, that's so, sir; and though you won't
trust me, I'll trust you—not only on your account,
for that a'n't much, but on her account,
which is a good deal. I'll stop with you, if
you'll have me, and I'll let her stop too—

though, of course, I could take her away from
here as easy as I could from Milvor, if I set
out to do it. I'm a Yankee boy, sir, and
they're smart, they are.”

“I was a Yankee boy myself once,” coolly
replied Brent; “but I find that truth and
honor are as effective weapons, in the long
run, as all the boasted `smartness' of our
countrymen. If I have judged her rightly,
Ruth Brewster is of my way of thinking. Let
us see.”

And Brent, who had seen the child from the
window where he stood, opened the door and
called her in. She came quickly, but timidly.
Brent took her hand, and looked her steadily
in the face.

“Ruth,” said he, “you feel the importance
of a promise, and you can keep one through
all temptation to break it. So much I know
of you. Now will you make me a promise?”

Ruth glanced aside at Paul, upward at
Brent, colored slightly, and said:

“I can't give up Paul, sir.”

“I do not ask you to give him up. The
promise I speak of is, that you will not leave
this place, either alone or with any one else,
without my knowledge and consent. Will
you sacredly promise this?”

“Yes, sir, I will.” And with instinctive
gesture, the child placed her slender, pale
hand in that of Marston Brent, and looked
confidingly into his face.

“Thank you, Ruth—that will do,” said
Brent kindly. “Please to wait for me a moment
outside the door.”

Ruth obeyed, and when they were alone,
the master calmly said:

“The child's honor is my sufficient guarantee
against any amount of `smartness' on
your part, Paul; and now we will lay aside
all weapons, and meet on the common ground
of interest in Ruth, and a mutual duty to each
other. Work with me instead of against me,
and we shall both fare the better. Is it a bargain,
my lad?”

“It's a bargain, sir,” said the boy, putting
his hand into that cordially outstretched toward
him; and as he walked slowly away into
the hemlock forest, Paul Freeman thought:

“`Honor and truth better than smartness?'
Let me see. Why not try to join them altogether?
I don't see but what they'd fay in
well enough.”

Brent, meantime, took Ruth by the hand,
and led her to Zilpah.

“Here is a little girl who wants some
clothes,” said he gayly. “How are we to
get them for her?”

“Good land! You don't say so, do you
now?” exclaimed the wily dame, apparently
overwhelmed with astonishment. “A gal!
And what's your name, dear?”

“Ruth,” replied the child timidly.

“Ruth Freeman, instead of Willy Freeman!
Now, do tell! And so you wanted to steal
off along of Paul, and thought you'd pass for
his brother instead of his sister, 'cause you
knew we couldn't think of taking a little gal
along, when we might like a boy well enough.
There, there, you needn't say a word. I understand
all about it, and I'll tell the men, so's
they needn't wonder. But how will you make
out for clothes?”

“I guess Paul has got mine along with his.
He said he'd bring them,” said Ruth shyly.

“Did? Well, that will make it all handy;
and when Mr. Brent sends to town, he can get
some factory cotton and gingham, and I'll
make you up another suit or so, and that'll be
all you'll need; and then you can help round
the house. On the whole, I'm glad you a'n't
a boy.”

“Well, is it all settled?” asked Brent, who
had retired a little from the feminine discussion
of clothes, and who now returned.

“Yes—all settled,” replied Zilpah hastily;
and the young man asked no further questions.