Much of that had passed away. The independence of the life he lived,
the freedom from resting upon the financial will of the lumber king had
given him light, air and confidence. He loved his mother. What he felt
for John Grier was respect and admiration. He knew he was not spoken to
now with any indolent purpose.
They had seen little of each other of late years. His mother had given
him the money to go to New York and Paris, which helped out his own
limited income. He wondered what should bring his father to him now.
There was interested reflection in his eye. With his habit of
visualization, he saw behind John Grier, as he came on now, the long
procession of logs and timbers which had made his fortune, stretch back
on the broad St. Lawrence, from the Mattawan to the Madawaska, from the
Richelieu to the Marmora. Yet, what was it John Grier had done? In a
narrow field he had organized his life perfectly, had developed his
opportunities, had safeguarded his every move. The smiling inquiry in his
face was answered by the old man saying abruptly:
"Fabian's gone. He's deserted the ship."
The young man had the wish to say in reply, "At last, eh!" but he avoided
it.
"Where has he gone?"
"I bought him out to-day, and I hear he's going to join Belloc.
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