Benjamin Prescott

“ On the next afternoon, Prescott was at work in the summer fallow, sitting in the iron saddle of a gangplow, which four powerful horses hauled through the crackling stubble. It was fiercely hot and he was lightly clad in thin yellow shirt and overalls. A cloud of dust rose about him from the parched soil, and the broad expanse of wheat which the fallow divided glowed with varied colors as it rippled before the rush of breeze, the strong greens changing to a silvery luster as the lush blades bent and caught the light. ”

“ The slope grew sharper, there seemed to be an unbroken wall of rock ahead; but, climbing higher, Prescott saw a small smooth track running up the barrier. It was obviously a gully filled with snow and its steepness suggested that the ascent of it might prove beyond his powers; but the footprints led on to where it began. After following them to the spot, Prescott sat down on a stone to gather breath. He looked upward with a sinking heart. The hollow was deep and narrow—a cleft in the vast ridge of rock, which was glazed with ice. ”

“ The moon was dimmed by thin, driving clouds, and the deep silence grew depressing; the loneliness weighed on her, and she began to listen eagerly for the beat of hoofs. For a time she heard nothing and she had grown angry with Prescott for delaying when a measured drumming stole out of the distance and her feeling of cheerfulness and security returned. Its significance was not lost on her: she was learning to depend on the man, to long for his society. Then, for no obvious reason, she urged the team and kept ahead for a while. ”

“ Prescott rejoined, conscious that he had nearly betrayed himself again. He felt angry with Jernyngham for giving him such a difficult part to play.
After this, he carefully avoided any personal topic and talked about Canadian farming, sitting silent when he could, while Muriel gazed about with pleasurable curiosity. It is never quite dark on those wide levels in summertime, and, for there was no moon, the prairie stretched away before them shadowy, silent, and mysterious. ”

“ She grasped his meaning and looked at him steadily with an air of pride.
“Then must I tell you that I have as much faith in Jack Prescott as I had in the man whom I supposed to be Cyril Jernyngham? But you must justify my confidence. You have been wrongly and cruelly accused; don’t you see the duty that lies on you?” ”

“ For several moments Jernyngham fixed his eyes on him, and his suspicions began to melt away. Truth had rung in Prescott’s voice and it was stamped on his face; no man, he thought, could lie and look as this rancher did. Even the discovery of the brown clothes appeared less damaging. ”

“ Prescott dismounted and turned loose his horse, short-hobbled, near the muskeg about two o’clock one hot afternoon. He had begun work at four that morning, and, with harvest drawing near, time was precious to him, but he was filled with a keen curiosity to see what progress Curtis had made in his search. He had a strong personal interest in the matter, because it seemed that some suspicion might rest on him; though he was far from sharing the corporal’s conviction that Jernyngham was dead. Stopping at the edge of the ravine, he looked about, taking in the details of the scene. ”

“ A messenger came for Prescott. "The General-in-Chief wishes you," he said.
Prescott walked to a small fire where Lee sat alone for the present and within the shelter of the tent. He was grave and thoughtful, but that was habitual with him. Prescott could not see that the victor of Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville had changed in bearing or manner. He was as neat as ever; the gray uniform was spotless; the splendid sword, a gift from admirers, hung by his side. His face expressed nothing to the keen gaze of Prescott, who was now no novice in the art of reading the faces of men. ”

“ His brother Edward had died shortly before, and this double affliction affected very deeply so sensitive a nature as Prescott's. To his father, indeed, he owed more than he could ever express. The two had been true comrades, and had treated one another with an affectionate familiarity which, between father and son, was as rare in those days as it was beautiful. Judge Prescott's generosity had made it possible for the younger man to break through all the barriers of physical infirmity, and not only to win fame but also the happiness which comes from a creative activity. ”

“ Jernyngham moved abruptly, but Prescott raised his hand.
“Let me get through! I believe you’re honest; you’re acting from a sense of duty, which is why I tell you that you’re tormenting yourself without a cause. I had no hand in your son’s disappearance, and it’s my firm conviction that he’s alive now and wandering through British Columbia with a mineral prospector.” ”

“ Cheerfulness is riveted in such a physical base as youth and strength, and Prescott was no exception. He could even smile behind his hand when he saw General Wood draw forth the infallible bowie-knife, pull a piece of pine from a rickety box that held fuel for the stove and begin to whittle from it long, symmetrical shavings that curled beautifully. ”

“ Bare-armed and very scantily attired men came after them, piling the stocks together. Disturbed as he was, Prescott felt cheered by the prospect of harvesting a record crop.
He had turned a corner and was proceeding along another side of the great oblong when he noticed a wagon approaching, carrying two strangers and several large trunks. As their dress differed from that usually worn on the prairie, he wondered who they were and why they were driving toward his ranch. The liveryman, who held the reins, presently pulled up his team and Prescott; stopping his binder, waited to be addressed. ”

“ He was very glad to meet his schoolmate and playfellow, Ben, who by his gayety, spiced though it was with roguery, had made himself a general favorite in school.
“I say, Paul,” said Ben, “I'm sorry to find you in such a place.”
“It isn't very pleasant,” said Paul, rather soberly.
“And that woman—Mrs. Mudge—she looks as if she might be a regular spitfire, isn't she?”
“Rather so.”
“I only wish the old gentleman—meaning of course, the Squire—would take you to live with me. I want a fellow to play with. But I say, Paul, go and get your hat, and we'll go out for a walk.” ”

“ Sefton, too, was silent for a time, still interlacing his fingers thoughtfully and glancing now and then through the window. Then he looked at Prescott and his face changed. The cruelty which had lurked in his eyes disappeared and in its place came a trace of admiration, even liking.
"Captain Prescott," he said, "you have borne yourself very well for a man who knew he was wholly in the power of another, made by circumstances his enemy for the time being."
"I am not wholly in the power of anybody," replied Prescott proudly. ”

“ Prescott waited in silence to hear what the other might have to say, and whatever it was he was sure that it would be of interest.
"That I am ambitious is true," continued the Secretary; "there are few men not old who are not so, and I think it better to have ambition than to be without it. But if I have ambition I also have other qualities. I like my friends—I like you and would continue to like you, Captain Prescott, if you would let me. ”

“ Prescott stands to profit by Jernyngham’s death: he has control of the holding until the year’s up, and it’s a pretty good crop. He declares the jacket isn’t Jernyngham’s; he won’t allow the man can be in the muskeg. ”

“ It was a modest house to which Prescott turned his steps, built two stories in height, of red brick, with green shutters over the windows, and in front a little brick-floored portico supported on white columns in the Greek style. His heart gave a great beat as he noticed the open shutters and the thin column of smoke rising from the chimney. The servants at least were there! He had been gone three years, and three years of war is a long time to one who is not yet twenty-five. ”

“ Prescott paused a few moments at the entrance to the aisle. No one paid any attention to him; soldiers were too common a sight to be noticed. He felt in the inside pocket of his waistcoat and drew forth the sealed envelope. Then he slipped softly down the aisle, leaned over the President's pew and handed him the note with the whispered words, "A message from General Lee." ”

“ But honestly, I know I can do a good deal better than I am doing now. I don't know but I shall turn over a new leaf. I suppose I like fun a little too well. Such jolly sport as I had coming to the office this morning."
Ben related the story of the traveller who inquired the way to Sparta, much to the amusement of the postmaster, who, in his enjoyment of the joke, forgot to tell Ben that his conduct was hardly justifiable.
"Now," said Ben, "as soon as I have been home, I must go and see my particular friend, Mrs. Mudge. I'm a great favorite of hers," he added, with a sly wink. ”

“ Moreover, Prescott had good cause for believing that he would not come back. With an effort, he pulled himself together. To give rein to his anger and disappointment would serve no purpose; but he had no horse with which to begin the pursuit. He remembered having told Wandle so when he first entered the house. Striking another match, he lighted a lantern he found and eagerly looked about. A plow team occupied two of the stalls, and though they were heavy Clydesdales with no speed in them, they would be capable of traveling faster than a man on foot. ”

“ The reader of Mr. Prescott’s histories is almost made for the time a contemporary of Ferdinand, Cortez and Pizarro; a contemporary who sees clearly the passions and bigotries which warp their moral judgments, and while uninfluenced himself by the prejudices which blind them, blends charity with justice in deciding upon their actions. There is a healthiness in Mr. Prescott’s intellect which places all objects in “daylight.” They are not discolored in passing through his mind. ”

“ It is not unfair, however, to assume that, for a time, Prescott's diversions were such as even a lenient moralist would think it necessary to condemn. The fondness for wine, which remained with him throughout his life, makes it likely that convival excess was one of his undergraduate follies; while the flutter of a petticoat may at times have stirred his senses. No doubt many a young man in his college days has plunged far deeper into dissipation than ever Prescott did and has emerged unscathed to lead a useful life. ”

“ Why should he be influenced by the idle words of some idle man in the street? He was not Lucia Catherwood's guardian; if there were any question of guardianship, she was much better fitted to be the guardian of him.
Had he obeyed this rush of feeling he would have swept away all constraint by words abrupt, disjointed perhaps, but alive with sincerity, and Miss Grayson gave him ample opportunity by slipping with excuses into the next room. The pride and stubbornness in Prescott's nature were tenacious and refused to die. ”

“ His widely recognised ability brought him wealth, so that he lived in liberal fashion, in a home whose generous appointments and cultivated ease created an atmosphere that was rare indeed in those early days, when narrow means and a crude provincialism combined to make New England life unlovely. Prescott was not only an able lawyer, the worthy compeer of Dexter, Otis, and Webster—he was a scholar by instinct, widely read, thoughtful, and liberal-minded in the best sense of the word. ”

“ As before, he took Prescott's unresisting arm and pointed up at the bright stars in their sea of blue.
"They are laughing at our passions, Mr. Prescott, perhaps smiling is the word," he said. "Such a peace as that appeals to me. I am not fond of war and I know that you are not. I feel it particularly to-night. There is poetry in the heavens so calm and so cold." ”

“ I’ve no doubt you realize that you lie open to a very ugly suspicion.”
“No!” a strained voice broke in. “That is not just!”
Looking up, Prescott saw that it was Muriel who had 119 spoken. Her eyes were bright with indignation and her face was hot, but none of the others showed him any sympathy. Colston’s face was grave and troubled, his wife’s expressionless; Gertrude Jernyngham looked more determined and more merciless than her father. She sat very still, coldly watching him.
“Thank you,” he said to Muriel. “It’s comforting to find one person who does not think the worst of me.” ”

“ Prescott, solemnly. "You've been a good son; I pray that you may grow up to be a good man. But, my dear, I feel tired. I think I will try to go to sleep."
Paul smoothed the comforter, adjusting it carefully about his father's neck, and going to the door went out in search of some wood to place upon the fire. Their scanty stock of firewood was exhausted, and Paul was obliged to go into the woods near by, to obtain such loose fagots as he might find upon the ground.
He was coming back with his load when his attention was drawn by a whistle. Looking up he discovered Ben Newcome approaching him. ”

“ It was situated on the edge of a belt of a muskeg sprinkled with birches and small pines, where the new railroad, leaving the open country to the south, ran up toward the great coniferous forest that fringes the northern portion of the prairie. Prescott had sold his horse at a lonely farm and he was now tired and hungry, but he felt satisfied that he was on the right track and had succeeded in eluding the police. Curtis and Private Stanton were men of fixed ideas; believing Jernyngham to be dead, they had, no doubt, merely made a few perfunctory inquiries at the nearest railroad camps. ”