His mother rushed between us. “I knew it! I knew it!” she wailed. “Ever since he was a baby, I knew this day would come. Oh, my God! James, my husband—James, my son!”
James lowered the hand he had lifted to strike me. His face was pale and his eyes were blazing hate at me—I saw his real feeling toward me at last. How could I have overlooked it so long?
“Who would ever think you were my father?” he asked, in a voice that sounded to me like an echo of my own. “You—with hate in your face—hate for the son whom you poisoned before he was born, whom you have been poisoning ever since with your example. You—my father!”
The young scoundrel had taunted me into that calm fury which is so dreadful that I fear it myself—for, when I am possessed by it, there is no length to which I would not go. Our wills had met in final combat. I saw that I must crush him—the one human being who dared to oppose me and defy me, and he my own child who should have been deferential, grateful, obedient, unquestioning. “But I am not your father,” I said. “In my will I had made you head of the family, had given you two-thirds of my estate. I shall write a revocation here—immediately. I shall make a new will to-morrow.”
If the blow crushed him, he did not show it. He did not even wince as he saw forty millions swept away from him. “As you please,” he said, putting scorn into his face and voice—as if I could be fooled by such a pretence. The man never lived who could scorn a tenth, or even a fortieth, of forty millions. “I came into this room,” he went on, “to tell you how ashamed I was of what I have done—how vile and low I have felt. I didn’t come to apologise to you, but to my—my mother and to myself in your presence. I am still ashamed of what I did, of what you made me do. Do you know why I did it? Because your money, your millions, have changed you from a man into a monster. This wealth has injured us all—yes, even mother, noble though she is. But you—it has made you a fiend. Well, I wished to be independent of you. You have brought me up so that I could not live without luxury. But you haven’t destroyed in me the last spark of self-respect. And I decided to make a play for a fortune of my own. I—broke my word and speculated. I overreached—I saw my one hope of freeing myself from slavery to you slipping from me. I—I—no matter. What did matter after I’d broken my word? And I was justly punished. I lost—everything.”
As he flung these frightful insults at me my calm fury grew cold as well. “You will leave the house within an hour,” I said. “Your mother will make your excuses to her guests—I shall spare you the humiliation of a public disowning. During my lifetime you shall have nothing from me—no, nor from your mother. I shall see to that. In my will I shall leave you a trifling sum—enough to keep you alive. I am responsible to society that you do not become a public charge. And you may from this day continue on your way to the penitentiary without hindrance from those who were your kin.”
As I finished, he smiled. His smile grew broader, and became a laugh. “Very well, ex-father,” he said; “there’s one inheritance you can’t rob me of—my mind. I’ll lop off its rotten spots, and I think what’s left will enable me to stagger along.”
“You imagine I’ll relent,” I went on, “but my days of weakness with you are over.”
“You—relent!” He smiled mockingly. “I’m not such a fool as to fancy that. Even if you had a heart, your pride wouldn’t let you. And I’m not sorry—just at this moment. Perhaps I shall be later—I’m fond of cash, and your pot for me was a big one. But just now I feel as if you were doing me a favour.” He drew a long breath. “God!” he exclaimed. “I’m free! In spite of myself, I’m free! I’m a man at last!”
I did not care to listen to any more of the frothings of the silly young fool. Already I was regarding him as a stranger, was turning to his brother Walter as a possible successor to him and my principal heir. I left the room and went for a walk with my daughter and Natalie Bradish. When we returned he was gone. I sent for Walter and told him the news.