THE SON OF NICHOLAS KANE.

Otago Witness, Issue 3765, 11 May 1926, Page 81

THE SON OF NICHOLAS KANE.

By Kathleen Macarthcb (Copyright.—Fob tiie Witness.) Nicholas Kane’s home stood at the end of Alton Avenue. It was a handsome house of grey stone, built after the manner of old Italian houses. A wide sweep of drive, planted on either side with larch trees, led up to the main entrance. A spacious lawn spread out before the house, but terminated abruptly to the left at a steep flight of stone steps. If you followed the steps you found yourself in the sunken garden, where, in the intense heat of the afternoon sun, the mingled scents of trees and flowers were heavy and overpoweringly sweet. The only occupant of the garden was a small fox terrier lying curled up on the end of a stone bench. From time to time the little dog roused himself and looked towards the steps with expectant eyes, but no one came, and the little dog lay down again with his black nose resting on his paws.

Mrs Kane sat huddled up in a big armchair watching her husband as he paced restlessly up and down the room. She was a slight, girlish-looking little woman of middle age. Her complexion, usually fresh and clear, was flushed with weeping, and showed traces of having been carelessly powdered. Nicholas Kane paused in front of her. “Won’t you come out with me, Margaret, for a little while? I am going out in the car presently.” Margaret Kane shivered slightly as she shoo her head. “No, no! I never want to ride in a car again.” A faint smile touched her husband’s tired face as he replied: “Then you must promise me to go into the garden for the rest of the afternoon. The sunshine will do you good.” He laid his hand gently on her shoulder. “Come, Margaret, you can’t do the boy any good now by cooping yourself up in here. You will make yourself ill.” Mrs Kane laid her face against his hand and burst out crying. “Oh 1” she sobbed, “why was Max the one to the killed? Hhe other two were not even badly hurt!” Nicholas Kane sighed. He had asked himself that question many times durin the past six days, but he answered patiently: “He was driving the car, dear, the others Wbuld have had a better chnace to jump clear when the other car crashed into them.”

Nicholas slipped his hands into his pockets, and began to wander aimlessly about. He was a man of fifty, slightly above average height, well made, with quick decisive movements, dark hair plentifully streaked with grey, blue eyes, complexion clear and brown, broad, intelligent forehead, the nose long and straight, squarely modelled chin, straight mouth, with rather full underlip. He came back to his wife’s chair. “Sure you won’t come with me, Margaret ? I think I’ll be off now, the house is stifling to-day.” He passed one hand wearily across his face. It was a beautifully moulded hand, strong but slender, with long tapering fingers. Nicholas was rather vain of his hands, and had a trick of spreading them out before him and studying them intently if thinking deeply about anything.

“No, I won’t come.” Mrs Kane rose as she spoke. “I’m going upstairs to

have a brush up, and then I’ll go into the garden.” They left the room together, and Nicholas made his way out-of-door 9 and towards the garage. It was while waiting impatiently at a busy corner in the city for the cars before his own to move forward, that he heard someone speak his name. Turning quickly about, he saw his brother, Richard Kane, standing on the pavement. Richard was his junior by two or three years. There was a great resemblance between the brothers, but where the elder wore his faultlessly cut clothes with an air of distinction, Ribhard never appeared to be well dressed no matter how good his clothes were. “I was coming out to see you, Nick,” he began, advancing to the kerb, “I only got back this morning.” Nicholas motioned to the seat beside him. “Jump in, Dick. I’m glad I met you.” Richard laid an impulsive hand on his brother’s arm as lie took his place beside him. “I can’t tell you how* sorry I am about the boy.” The other nodded without speaking, giving all his attention to guiding the car through the crowded street. Few words were exchanged between them until they were well away from the bustling town, and the shining grey car sped smoothly along the narrow white road that skirted the sea. “I’m going to pull up around the next bend,” Nicholas said presently. “There’s a quiet little bay there that’s rather a favourite spot of mine.” The grey ear swung easily around the bend and came to a standstill. A keen, fresh breeze was blowing off the sea, a group of little fishing boats at anchor in the bay were rocking softly on the shining water. Sea-gulls circled overhead or swooped down suddenly to rest for a moment on the waves, rising again with shrill, triumphant screams. “I tried to get back in time ” Richard began hesitatingly. Then suddenly, “Nick, I’m sorry for you and Margaret. If Max had been my own son, I couldn’t have loved him anv better.”

Nicholas gazed out over the sea for a moment without speaking, then said, “I think, rather, I know, that Max was moreof a son to you than ever he was to me. He was more in sympathy with you and your ideas than ever he was with me and mine.”

The other turned a troubled face towards him.

“But you did not mind that ?” “No, not until I had no longer a son.” Richard regarded him closely. “The boy was fond of you, Nick. You know that.”

The reply came slowly. “Yes, I believe he was in many ways. Mind, Dick, I don’t blame him; it was my own fault.”

“Look here, Nick, you’ve had a nasty jar. In a little while you’ll feel differently about this.”

“I don’t think,” Richard went on, taking off his glasses and beginning to polish at them absently, “that you have anything to reproach yourself with regarding the boy, but you seem to me to reproach yourself about something. All his life he never knew what it was to lack any of the things that make life pleasant and attractive to ns. You are a wealthy man. and it came natural to you that ho should have these things, but remember

your own bovhood, Nick, and mine—ourselves as children. Why, we would have given the world for just one half of Max’s opportunities.” Nicholas climbed out of the car, his brother following, and they began to pace slowly up and down. “You’re quite wrong, Dick,” the elder brother said presently. “I don’t reproach myself at all. I’m only sorry, sorry for myself, damnably sorry. Listen, a moment ago you spoke of us as boys, children. Well, you know how it was. A crowd of us and never enough to go round.” He paused. Before the minds of both men floated the picture of a tall, oldfashioned house, badly in need of a coat of paint, a straggly lawn and garden, well trampled by many little feet, a gate that it was necessary to open and shut with care, one good hinge doing the duty of the two broken ones as well as its own. Their father, a kindly, ineffectual sort of man left rather bewildered in the continual tussle with life, but who always spoke hopefully of cutting down expenses and getting something put by. An equally bewildered mother, who would look helplessly at her unruly boys and girls a dozen times a day, and sigh that people who had no children were much better off.

“You said Max never lacked anything all his life,’’ continued Nicholas. “Well, from the time he was a baby I determined he never should, that I would give him all the opportunities I would have liked myself when I was young. So he grew to manhood, and p&verty, suffering, discomfort of any kind were only words to him that held no meaning.”

“People told me I was spoiling him. Perhaps I was, yet I never could understand why the chance to live without a care, bo fill one’s life with beautiful things, should spoil anyone. However, when Max grew up, a sort of antagonism sprang up between us. I don’t know why it should have been so, tut it was. “I was always promising myself that I would take him in hand, and we would get to understand each other better.” Nicholas Kane looked at his brother and smiled grimly. “Well, 1 left it too late. But to continue. A few days before the accident we quarrelled rather badly. I told him he must begin to take life more seriously, to settle down to business and learn to make money. He ended by calling me a money grubber. He had it fixed in his mind that I cared for nothing but money. He forgot that l did not amass money for money’s sake, that if I made plenty, I spent plenty.” Nicholas stopped and threw out his hands with a gesture of despair. "What’s the use? If things had been different between Max and me I would not have minded losing him so much.” Richard Kane placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder without speaking. Nicholas smiled affectionately at him. “Good dd Dick.”

The long summer afternoon had drawn to its close. Big drops of rain were beginning to fair as Nicholas Kane drew the gri car to a standstill before the door of his home. Going quickly up the steps he stumbled and almost fell over a small white dog lying curled up in his path. “Why, Victor, old chap!” he exclaimed, “Where have you been all day. Come Victor, come!” The dog looked at him without moving, and commenced to whimper. the man stooped down and lifted the unhappy little creature in his arms saying, "he won’t come, Victor. He won’t come!” and still holding the dog he entered the quiet house caressing its shining head with his long slender fingers.