Carnatic

“ He wants nothing from anybody. He needs no one; he follows no one—except me. Yes, he follows—he loves me.
She watched her husband till he almost viciously thrust aside the bushes staying his progress, and broke into the space by the pear-tree where Carnac sat with palette and brush, gazing at the distant roofs on which the sun was leaving its last kiss.
Carnac got to his feet with a smile, and with a courage in his eye equal to that which had ever been in his father’s face—in the face of John Grier. ”

“ One of the wisest advisers in river-law he had ever known was a priest; one of the best friends of the legislation of the medical profession was a woman; one of the bravest Ministers who had ever quarrelled with and conquered his colleagues had been an insurance agent; one of the sanest authorities on maritime law had been a man with a greater pride in his verses than in his practical capacity; and here was Carnac, who had painted pictures and made statues, plunging into politics with a policy as ingenious as his own, and as capable of logical presentation. ”

“ At first glance, Carnac saw that John Grier was getting worn and old. The eyes were not so flashing as they once were; the lips were curled in a half-cynical mood. The old look of activity was fading; something vital had struck soul and body. He had had a great year. He had fought Belloc and his son Fabian successfully; he had laid new plans and strengthened his position.
Tarboe coming into the business had made all the difference to him. Tarboe had imagination, skill and decision, he seldom lost his temper; he kept a strong hand upon himself. His control of men was marvellous ”

“ Then she said: "Carnac's been here, but that has naught to do with what I said. I've lived with you for over thirty years, and I haven't spoken my mind often, but I'm speaking it now."
"Never too late to mend, eh!" he gruffly interposed. "So Carnac's been here! Putting up his independent clack, eh? He leaves his old father to struggle as best he may, and doesn't care a damn. That's your son Carnac." ”

“ He would ask Junia to be his wife now, while she was so friendly. Her eyes were shining, her face was alive with feeling, and he was aware that the best chances of his life had come to win her. If she was not now in the hands of Carnac, his chances were good. Yet there was the tale of the secret marriage—the letter he saw Carnac receive in John Grier's office! The words of the ancient Greek came to him as he looked at her: "He who will not strike when the hour comes shall wither like a flower, and his end be that of the chaff of the field." ”

“ He knew that his son, inheriting his own political gifts, had done what could have been done by no one else. All the years passed since Carnac was begotten laid their deathly hands upon him, and he knew he could never recover from this defeat. How much better it would have been if he had been struck twenty-seven years ago!
Youth, ambition and resolve would have saved him from the worst then. Age has its powers, but it has its defects, and he had no hope that his own defects would be wiped out by luck at the polls. Spirit was gone out of him, longing for the future had no place in his mind ”

“ Don’t you think so?” he added to Fabian’s wife.
“Oh, much the best,” she answered. “That’s so, Junia, isn’t it?”
“I wouldn’t say so positively,” answered Junia. “I don’t understand Monsieur Barouche. He talked as if he had something up his sleeve.” Her face became clouded. “Have you any idea what it is, Carnac?”
Carnac laughingly shook his head. “That’s his way. He’s always bluffing. He does it to make believe the game’s his, and to destroy my confidence. He’s a man of mark, but he’s having the biggest fight he ever had—of that I’m sure.... Do you think I’ll win?” ”

“ Yet Fabian had all he deserved from his father. He has all he should have, and he tried to beat his father in business. Carnac, don't be a bigger fool than there's any need to be. What is better than that John Grier's business should be in Tarboe's hands—or in yours? Remember, John Grier might have left it all to your mother, and, if he had, you'd have taken it, if she had left it to you. You'd have taken it even if you meant to give it away afterwards. There are hospitals to build. There are good and costly things to do for the State. ”

“ Yet, somehow, he had a feeling that Tarboe had a steadying influence on John Grier. The old man was not so uncontrolled as in bygone days.
“I’d like to see Tarboe,” Carnac said suddenly. “He ain’t the same as you,” snapped John Grier. “He’s bigger, broader, and buskier.” A malicious smile crossed over his face. “He’s a bandit—that’s what he is. He’s got a chest like a horse and lungs like the ocean. When he’s got a thing, he’s got it like a nail in a branch of young elm. ”

“ The girl held herself firmly. "Remember John Grier has made a great name for himself—as great in his way as Andrew Carnegie or Pierpont Morgan— and he's got pride in his name. He wants his son to carry it on, and in a way he's right."
"That's good argument," said Carnac, "but if his name isn't strong enough to carry itself, his son can't carry it for him. That's the way of life. How many sons have ever added to their father's fame? The instances are very few. In the modern world, I can only think of the Pitts in England. There's no one else." ”

“ BOOK II XIII. CARNAC'S RETURN XIV. THE HOUSE OF THE THREE TREES XV. CARNAC AND JUNTA XVI. JOHN GRIER MAKES A JOURNEY XVII. THE READING OF THE WILL CHAPTER XIII CARNAC'S RETURN "Well, what's happened since I've been gone, mother?" asked Carnac. "Is nobody we're interested in married, or going to be married?"
It was spring-time eight months after Carnac had vanished from Montreal, and the sun of late April was melting the snow upon the hills, bringing out the smell of the sprouting verdure and the exultant song of the birds.
His mother replied sorrowfully: "Junia's been away since last fall. ”

“ Carnac.
A half-tender, half-repellent expression came into the old man's face. He spoke bluntly. "I always thought you had three times the brains of your brother. You're not like me, and you're not like your mother; there's something in you that means vision, and seeing things, and doing them. If fifteen thousand dollars a year and a share in the business is any good to you—"
For an instant there had been pleasure and wonder in the young man's eyes, but at the sound of the money and the share in the business he shrank back. ”

“ There must have been something damned bad in the bringing up of those boys. I've not, got the love of any of you, and I know it. Why should I be thrown over by every one?"
"Every one hasn't thrown you over. Mr. Tarboe hasn't. You've been in great spirits about him. What's the matter?"
He waved a hand savagely at her, with an almost insane look in his eyes.
"What's he to me! He's a man of business. In a business way I like him, but I want my own flesh and blood by me in my business. I wanted Carnac, and he wouldn't come—a few weeks only he came. I had Fabian, and he wouldn't stay. ”

“ John Grier sat down in his chair again, cold, merciless, with a scornful smile.
"Yes, yes," he said slowly, "you'd have made a great business man if you'd come with me. You refused. I don't understand you—I never did. There's only one thing that's alike in us, and that's a devilish self- respect, self-assertion, self-dependence. There's nothing more to be said between us—nothing that counts. Don't get into a passion, Carnac. It don't become you. Good-night—good-night."
Suddenly his mother's face produced a great change in Carnac. Horror, sorrow, remorse, were all there. He looked at John Grier ”

“ As she asked the question she heard a firm step on the path. It was Carnac. She turned and stood waiting, leaning against the table, watching the door through which he presently came. He was dressed in grey. His coat was buttoned. He carried a soft grey hat, and somehow his face gave her a feeling that he had come to say good-bye. It startled her; and yet, though she was tempted to grip her breast, she did not. Presently she spoke.
"I think you're a very idle man. Why aren't you at work?"
"I am at work," Carnac said cheerfully.
"Work is not all paint and canvas of course. ”

“ They were Fabian’s wife and Junia.
Barode Barouche came out of the hall before Carnac. His quick eye saw the two ladies, and he raised his broad-brimmed hat like a Stuart cavalier, and smiled.
“Waiting for your champion, eh?” he asked with cynical friendliness. “Well, work hard, because that will soften his fall.” He leaned over, as it were confidentially, to them, while his friends craned their necks to hear what he said: “If I were you I’d prepare him. He’s beaten as sure as the sun shines.” ”

“ Perhaps the facts are, I'm one of the most useless people that ever wore a coat. Perhaps the things I do aren't going to live beyond me."
"It seems as though your father's business is going to live after him, doesn't it?" the girl asked mockingly. "Where are you going now?" she added.
"Well, I'm going to take you home," he said, as he turned and walked by her side down the hill.
"Denzil will be glad to see you. He almost thinks I'm a curse."
Carnac smiled. "All genius is at once a blessing or a curse. And what does Denzil think of me?" ”

“ It was the first time he had ever been hit between the eyes where John Grier was concerned. His prestige with the men was now under a shadow, yet he dared not deny the truth of the statement. It could be proved. His braggart hatred of John Grier had come home to roost. Carnac saw that, and he was glad he had challenged the man. He believed that in politics, as in all other departments of life, candour and bold play were best in the long run. Yet he would like to see the man in a different humour, and with joy he heard Junia say to Grandois. ”

“ Act at once, and damn the consequences! Remember, John Grier’s firm has a reputation, and deal justly, but firmly, with opposition. The way it’s organized, the business almost runs itself. But that’s only when the man at the head keeps his finger on the piston-rod. You savvy, don’t you?”
“I savvy all right. If the Belloc firm cuts up rusty, I’ll think of what you’d do and try to do it in the same way.”
The old man smiled. He liked the spirit in Carnac. It was the right kind for his business. “I predict this: if you have one fight with the Belloc lot, you’ll hate them too. ”

“ I wonder if all boys feel towards their father as I do to mine.
He don't treat me right. He—"
"Oh, look," interrupted Junia. "Look-Carnac!" She pointed in dismay.
Carnac saw a portion of the bank of the river disappear with Denzil. He ran over to the bank and looked down. In another moment he had made his way to a descending path which led him swiftly to the river's edge. The girl remained at the top. The boy had said to her: "You stay there. I'll tell you what to do."
"Is-is he killed?" she called with emotion.
"Killed! No. He's all right," he called back to her. "I can see him move. ”

“ I will tell you all when you are M.P. JUNIA.
With a smile, Carnac placed the certificate in his pocket. How lucky it was he had denied the marriage and demanded that Roudin produce the woman! He was safe now, safe and free. It was no good any woman declaring she was married to him if she could not produce the proof—and the proof was in his pocket and the woman was in New York.
“Come, Monsieur Roudin, tell us about the woman, and bring her to the polls. There is yet time, if you’re telling the truth. Who is she? Where does she live? What’s her name?” ”

“ He had just finished his speech in reply to Barode Barouche—eloquent, eager, masterful. Youth’s aspirations, with a curious sympathy with the French Canadian people, had idealized his utterances. When he finished there had been cheering, but in the quiet instant that followed the cheering, a habitant got up—a weird, wilful fellow who had a reputation for brag, yet who would not have hurt an enemy save in wild passion.
“M’sieu’ Carnac Grier,” he said, “I’d like to put a question to you. You’ve been asking for our votes. We’re a family people, we Canucs, and we like to know where we’re going. ”

“ Denzil said urgently. Carnac saw the handwriting was Junia's, and he tore open the letter, which held the blue certificate of the marriage with Luzanne. He conquered the sudden dimness of his eyes, and read the letter. It said:
DEAR CARNAC, I hear from Mr. Tarboe of the lies being told against you. Here is the proof. She has gone. She told it to Barode Barouche, and he was to have announced it last night, but I saw her first. You can now deny the story. The game is yours. Tell the man Roudin to produce the woman—she is now in New York, if the train was not lost. ”

“ Then I’ll tell it, sacre bapteme, yes!”
“You’re a bad Catholic, Denzil,” remarked Carnac with emotion, but a smile upon his face.
“I may be a bad Catholic, but the man deserved to die, and he died. What’s the difference, so far’s the world’s concerned, whether he died by accident, or died—as he died. It’s me that feels the fury of the damned, and want my girl back every hour: and she can’t come. But some day I’ll go to M’sieu’ Luke Tarboe, and tell him the truth, as I’ve told it you—bagosh, yes!”
“I think he’d try and kill you, if you did. That’s the kind of man he is.” ”

“ She wondered what Barouche would think. There was some ancient touch of war in her which made her rejoice that after long years the hammer should strike.
Somehow the thing’s tremendous possibilities thrilled her. Carnac had always been a politician—always. She remembered how, when he was a boy, he had argued with John Grier on national matters, laid down the law with the assurance of an undergraduate, and invented theories impossible of public acceptance. ”