The Sins of the Father Part 97

The boy looked at his father's trembling hand and into his glittering eyes with a start:

"Yes, yes, but, of course, that was only a moment's despair--no mother could mean such a thing."

Norton's eyes fell, he moved uneasily, tried to speak again and was silent.

When he began his words were scarcely audible:

"We must part now in tenderness, my boy, as father and son--we--we--must do that you know. You--you forgive me for striking you to-night?"

Tom turned away, struggled and finally answered:

"No."

The father followed eagerly:

"Tell me that it's all right!"

The boy's hand nervously fumbled at the cloth on the table:

"I--I--am glad I didn't do something worse!"

"Say that you forgive me! Why is it so hard?"

Tom turned his back:

"I don't know, Dad, I try, but--I--just can't!"

The father's hand touched the boy's arm timidly:

"You can never understand, my son, how my whole life has been bound up in you! For years I've lived, worked, and dreamed and planned for you alone.

In your young manhood I've seen all I once hoped to be and have never been.

In your love I've found the healing of a broken heart. Many a night I've gone out there alone in that old cemetery, knelt beside your mother's grave and prayed her spirit to guide me that I might at least lead your little feet aright----"

The boy moved slightly and the father's hand slipped limply from his, he staggered back with a cry of despair, and fell prostrate on the lounge:

"I can endure anything on this earth but your hate, my boy! I can't endure that--I can't--even for a moment!"

His form shook with incontrollable grief as he lay with his face buried in his outstretched arms.

The boy struggled with conflicting pride and love, looked at the scrawled, tear-stained letter he still held in his hand and then at the bowed figure, hesitated a moment, and rushed to his father's side, knelt and slipped his arm around the trembling figure:

"It's all right, Dad! I'll not remember--a single tear from your eyes blots it all out!"

The father's hand felt blindly for the boy's and grasped it desperately:

"You won't remember a single harsh word that I've said?"

"No--no--it's all right," was the soothing answer, as he returned the pressure.

Norton looked at him long and tenderly:

"How you remind me of _her_ to-night! The deep blue of your eyes, the trembling of your lips when moved, your little tricks of speech, the tear that quivers on your lash and never falls and the soul that's mirrored there"--he paused and stroked the boy's head--"and her hair, the beaten gold of honeycomb!"

His head sank and he was silent.

The boy again pressed his hand tenderly and rose, drawing his father to his feet:

"I'm sorry to have hurt you, Dad. I'm sorry that we have to go--good-by!"

He turned and slowly moved toward the door. Norton slipped his right hand quickly to the revolver, hesitated, his fingers relaxed and the deadly thing dropped back into his pocket as he sank to his seat with a groan:

"Wait! Wait, Tom!"

The boy stopped.

"I--I've got to tell it to you now!" he went on hoa.r.s.ely. "I--I tried to save you this horror--but I couldn't--the way was too hard and cruel."

Tom took a step and looked up in surprise:

"The way--what way?"

"I couldn't do it," the father cried. "I just couldn't--and so I have to tell you."

The boy spoke with sharp eagerness:

"Tell me what?"

"Now that I know you are married in all that word means and I have failed to save you from it--I must give you the proofs that you demand. I must prove to you that Helen _is_ a negress----"

A sudden terror crept into the young eyes:

"You--you have the proofs?"

"Yes!" the father nodded, placing his hand on his throat and fighting for breath. He took a step toward the boy, and whispered:

"Cleo--is--her mother!"

Tom flinched as if struck a blow. The red blood rushed to his head and he blanched with a death-like pallor:

"And you have been afraid of Cleo?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

The father's head was slowly lowered and his hands moved in the slightest gesture of dumb confession.

A half-articulate, maniac cry and the boy grasped him with trembling hands, screaming in his face:

"G.o.d in Heaven, let me keep my reason for just a moment!--So--you--are--Helen's----"