CHAPTER V
MILES BURLOCK
What could that man want of her father?
And what was so mysterious about their conversation that reached herears in spite of her attempting to enter the house without intrudingupon her father's company?
Her name was being spoken, and why would Aunt Libby not open that door?
"There she is now," said Major Dale, as Dorothy gave one more knock."Daughter, come this way. We are waiting for you."
How hard her heart beat! And how foolish she was to be nervous!
"This gentleman," began Major Dale, "wants you to hear a story. It maybe sad for ears so young, but perhaps the knowledge that you havehelped Mr. Burlock to settle one point in this story may make it moreinteresting to you."
The faint moonlight, that now streamed from the spring sky, made asilvery glow upon the faces of the two men, and even in the shadows,that of Miles Burlock showed features firm and what might be calledhandsome. Dorothy had often seen him before, but he had never lookedthat way. His face was clearer now he was changed.
"Child," he said, extending his hand to her, "You need not fear MilesBurlock now. He is a man--no longer a slave to rum--but a wake at last."
"I am so glad!" Dorothy stammered.
"Yes, that day you took my hand, although it was not fit for yours, andthe way you asked me to join in the League work came like a miracle ofgrace. Perhaps it is--because--because you are so like the child Ilost."
He bowed his head, and for a moment, was silent, then he looked atDorothy again.
"As you are the one chosen to help this man find himself--for he hasbeen morally lost for years,--I feel it may be that you, too, may helpme find my own child," Miles Burlock went on. "At any rate it is bestthat you should hear the story, for when men like us have passed awaythe children may be here to remember what others will be glad to forgetabout me--to forget that I tried to undo the wrong I had done to thoselost to me now."
Major Dale opened the door to the sitting room, and there the mancontinued his story.
"As a boy I was cared for by an over-indulgent aunt, and I have oftenthought that the fact of having lost my own mother might, in some way,make an excuse to heaven for me, for the boy or girl who never knows amother has suffered more than mortal can count,--in ways more numerousthan mortal can see, and a motherless babe is the saddest story in allhuman history. Well, money had been left for me, and this too, Ibelieve, was an inherited wrong, for too early in life had I begun tofeel independent. Later that indifference to discipline grew torecklessness, and then the final evil came in the shape of bad company."
Major Dale stopped the speaker for a moment and Dorothy was glad tomove a little nearer her father. Somehow, this strange story was unlikeanything she had ever heard, and while it fascinated her, it alsofrightened her, for she had not before known anyone who had lived sucha wild life.
"And here is where your daughter, Major Dale, has come so strangelyinto my life," went on Mr. Burlock. "The good people of this town havebeen working hard to save such men as I have been--but no longer will Irank myself with such. That young man, Ralph Willoby, had pleaded withme in a way few could have resisted, but the trouble was, I was in thehands of a man who had been my evil genius for years, and no matter howfirm was my resolve to get away from temptation, this tyrant wouldmanage to put the poison into my hands. Of course I thought him afriend,--that was what he had always pretended to be,--but through thestrange interference of this little girl,"--laying his hand onDorothy,--"I have seen the light; the scales have fallen from my eyes."
The awful face of the villainous man, who had so frightened Dorothy onthe stairs of the Bugle office, seemed to flash into that room. Couldhe be that evil genius?
"Yes, Major Dale," he went on, "you must have heard by this time that aman waylaid your daughter, grabbed the papers from her hands and triedto frighten her so that there would be no outcry until he had made hisescape. Well, that man was no other than he who put liquor to my lipswhen I was a boy; who took me from my home when I was a husband, andmade me sign papers that would leave my young wife helpless in all theaffairs that she should rightfully control. Not satisfied with thisrecord of villainy, he, at last, separated me from my wife anddaughter, and though I have searched for years for them, it has allbeen in vain."
The man stopped. Tears were streaming down his pallid face and thesorrow of a lifetime seemed about to break the bonds of humanendurance. Major Dale put his hand on the other's shoulder.
"Cheer up, brother," he said, "There may yet be time. Life is with youstill."
"Ah, but have I not searched all this week? And did not that manpromise to take me to them?"
Dorothy had shrunk back when Mr. Burlock said the man who had putterror in her own life was the same person who had destroyed hishappiness. Then it was as Ralph said,--Miles Burlock did figure in themysterious case.
The evening was melting into night. Major Dale was still feeble fromhis illness and his daughter, quick to see the look of pain on hisloved face, determined to stop the story for the time being.
"You must lie down, father," she said, putting her arm about him, "Youknow the doctor said to be very careful."
With a promptness that bespoke good breeding the visitor arose.
"Pray pardon me," he said politely. "I have been very selfish. I willnot disturb you longer. I will come again to-morrow."
"We will be very glad, indeed, to help you, if we can," the majorreplied, rather faintly, for Dorothy had not spoken a moment too soonfor his comfort.
"The real matter with which I would ask you to help me is the puttingaside, now, of the money which is in my name, and which should besecured against enemies of my poor wife and daughter," said MilesBurlock. "I will never again trust anything to the uncertain time whenthey may be found, for I believe now they are being kept away from meby this same scoundrel, Andrew Anderson. It may be well for you to knowhis name."
"And where is he?" asked the major, his voice showing the feeling hecould not hide, a determination to deal severely with the man who hadthreatened Dorothy.
"That is something I would not dare to tell even if I knew. My onlyhope of getting these affairs settled so that I may sometime makeamends to my dear ones, is by keeping away from Anderson. It might notdetain you too long to say that last week my friend, my counselor, andbenefactress Marian Douglass, passed away. For years she held safelyfor me the principal of the money I had been wasting. Now that she isgone, and he knows it, I must at once make it secure in some other way.To-morrow, if you will allow me, I will come again and bring witnesses.No other man in Dalton would be so worthy of the trust. Thousands ofdollars have almost made themselves in ways planned and carried out byMarian Douglass, who held this money both for me and from me, but now apart of this must be used to find my wife and my daughter Nellie, andthen to run down their persecutors, for I have been a tool, simply, inthe hands of those who took what I had and who have been trying foryears to get the rest. If nothing happens to me to-night I will cometo-morrow morning, after that we may tell the town who it was who triedto spoil the fair name of Dalton."
He pressed Dorothy's hand to his lips as he left. She felt a tear fallupon it; and she knew that all her prayers and all her efforts to savethis man from his evil ways had not been in vain, and with thehappiness that comes always in the knowledge of good accomplished, anew resolve came into her heart--she would some day find Nellie Burlock.