“Stop!” It was a son he had never known who took a menacing step toward him, rage flaming in the eyes of scorn with which he searched out his father’s soul. “You and your money!” He flung out. “You think that with it you can conquer the world! You hold my mother responsible for all this trouble—don’t you? Do you want to know the real cause of all the suffering in this room to-night? I’ll tell you—it’s your money! The thing that made me the good-for-nothing idler that I am—that made my sister the frivolous callous-hearted woman you see before you! Your money! You may buy another woman with it and break my mother’s heart! You may make Elinor forget that some day she may have children of her own—but if you think, for a moment, that you can make me forget my manhood to the extent of deserting my mother, then even prison is far too good for me!”
Marjorie stared at him in amazement! Slowly she awakened from her apathy. In a dawning glory that transformed her, her face was aglow with mother love. Her eyes, dim from grief and weeping, fairly beamed with pride and joy. Hugh walked the length of the room twice without speaking. He strove to master himself, but the selfish anger had not been conquered when he came to a stop before his son.
“So that is the way you look at it. Isn’t this display of chivalry rather sudden?” The sneer was in his voice and words.
“I know that I’ve never amounted to very much,” Howard was ready to acknowledge his short-comings, “but I think, Dad, now that it has come to a showdown—I’m more of a man than you are!”
Tiger and cub, they faced each other, glaring.
“I’ve had enough of this.” Hugh’s voice was thunder when he was first to break under the strain. “Go with your mother! Play the hero as much as you damned please! I’m through with you! You’ll find it pretty hard to get out of this trouble without a penny of the money you scorn to help you!”
“I’ll take my chances with hundreds of others—that’s all.” Howard’s serene reply held the indulgence of the conqueror.
Marjorie Benton, too heartfull to speak, to stand between father and son, could hardly realize that this wonderful boy, standing there, superbly defending her, was her son! Never for a moment had she doubted Elinor’s loyalty, and the blow she had received from her had been as unexpected as crushing.
Now, as her husband stalked toward the door with the finality she knew so well, she hurried across the space to place herself in the doorway, obstructing his passage. There was no hint of pleading now, though. All that had gone from Marjorie Benton forever. But there was in the determination with which she barred Hugh Benton’s way something greater—the greatest thing in all the world—the determination of the mother to fight for the child she loves. Her voice was menacingly soft as she spoke, ignoring his annoyed gesture to be allowed to past.
“Just a moment, Hugh,” she said, “we have not quite finished yet. Last night,” she went on, “you made me an offer. You have not forgotten it?”