"Easily guessed,from the letter,and from what the world knows,"returned John,his voice still shaking with excitement."He was always a queer chap,they say,and full of his notions.Six or eight years ago his wife died.They say he worshiped her,and for weeks refused even to touch his violin.Then,very suddenly,he,with his four-year-old son,disappeared--dropped quite out of sight.Some people guessed the reason.I knew a man who was well acquainted with him,and at the time of the disappearance he told me quite a lot about him.He said he was n't a bit surprised at what had happened.That already half a dozen relatives were interfering with the way he wanted to bring the boy up,and that David was in a fair way to be spoiled,even then,with so much attention and flattery.The father had determined to make a wonderful artist of his son,and he was known to have said that he believed--as do so many others--that the first dozen years of a child's life are the making of the man,and that if he could have the boy to himself that long he would risk the rest.So it seems he carried out his notion until he was taken sick,and had to quit--poor chap!""But why didn't he tell us plainly in that note who he was,then?"fumed Simeon Holly,in manifest irritation.
"He did,he thought,"laughed the other."He signed his name,and he supposed that was so well known that just to mention it would be enough.That's why he kept it so secret while he was living on the mountain,you see,and that's why even David himself didn't know it.Of course,if anybody found out who he was,that ended his scheme,and he knew it.So he supposed all he had to do at the last was to sign his name to that note,and everybody would know who he was,and David would at once be sent to his own people.(There's an aunt and some cousins,I believe.)You see he didn't reckon on nobody's being able to READ his name!Besides,being so ill,he probably wasn't quite sane,anyway.""I see,I see,"nodded Simeon Holly,frowning a little."And of course if we had made it out,some of us here would have known it,probably.Now that you call it to mind I think I have heard it myself in days gone by--though such names mean little to me.
But doubtless somebody would have known.However,that is all past and gone now.""Oh,yes,and no harm done.He fell into good hands,luckily.
You'll soon see the last of him now,of course.""Last of him?Oh,no,I shall keep David,"said Simeon Holly,with decision.
"Keep him!Why,father,you forget who he is!There are friends,relatives,an adoring public,and a mint of money awaiting that boy.You can't keep him.You could never have kept him this long if this little town of yours hadn't been buried in this forgotten valley up among these hills.You'll have the whole world at your doors the minute they find out he is here--hills or no hills!Besides,there are his people;they have some claim."There was no answer.With a suddenly old,drawn look on his face,the elder man had turned away.
Half an hour later Simeon Holly climbed the stairs to David's room,and as gently and plainly as he could told the boy of this great,good thing that had come to him.
David was amazed,but overjoyed.That he was found to be the son of a famous man affected him not at all,only so far as it seemed to set his father right in other eyes--in David's own,the man had always been supreme.But the going away--the marvelous going away--filled him with excited wonder.
"You mean,I shall go away and study--practice--learn more of my violin?""Yes,David."
"And hear beautiful music like the organ in church,only more--bigger--better?""I suppose so.".
"And know people--dear people--who will understand what I say when I play?"Simeon Holly's face paled a little;still,he knew David had not meant to make it so hard.
"Yes."
"Why,it's my 'start'--just what I was going to have with the gold-pieces,"cried David joyously.Then,uttering a sharp cry of consternation,he clapped his fingers to his lips.
"Your--what?"asked the man.
"N--nothing,really,Mr.Holly,--Uncle Simeon,--n--nothing."Something,either the boy's agitation,or the luckless mention of the gold-pieces sent a sudden dismayed suspicion into Simeon Holly's eyes.
"Your 'start'?--the 'gold-pieces'?David,what do you mean?"David shook his head.He did not intend to tell.But gently,persistently,Simeon Holly questioned until the whole piteous little tale lay bare before him:the hopes,the house of dreams,the sacrifice.
David saw then what it means when a strong man is shaken by an emotion that has mastered him;and the sight awed and frightened the boy.
"Mr.Holly,is it because I'm--going--that you care--so much?Inever thought--or supposed--you'd--CARE,"he faltered.
There was no answer.Simeon Holly's eyes were turned quite away.
"Uncle Simeon--PLEASE!I--I think I don't want to go,anyway.
I--I'm sure I don't want to go--and leave YOU!"Simeon Holly turned then,and spoke.
"Go?Of course you'll go,David.Do you think I'd tie you here to me--NOW?"he choked."What don't I owe to you--home,son,happiness!Go?--of course you'll go.I wonder if you really think I'd let you stay!Come,we'll go down to mother and tell her.Isuspect she'll want to start in to-night to get your socks all mended up!"And with head erect and a determined step,Simeon Holly faced the mighty sacrifice in his turn,and led the way downstairs.
The friends,the relatives,the adoring public,the mint of money--they are all David's now.But once each year,man grown though he is,he picks up his violin and journeys to a little village far up among the hills.There in a quiet kitchen he plays to an old man and an old woman;and always to himself he says that he is practicing against the time when,his violin at his chin and the bow drawn across the strings,he shall go to meet his father in the far-away land,and tell him of the beautiful world he has left.
