When Tom entered, his paternal parent was ready to receive him.
“Trod on Miss Vanuxem’s dress and tore it off her back in the ballroom, did you?” he burst forth. “Made a fool of yourself and a bear-garden of the Delisle House ballroom! What were you trying to dance for? Leave that to men who can manage their limbs, and don’t inflict yourself on women who are too high-bred to refuse to dance with a man who ought to be a gentleman. Stay at home, sir! Stay at home, and don’t make a disgraceful spectacle of yourself in public, particularly when there are lovely women present to witness your humiliation.”
It was the figurative last straw. Tom’s mind had been dark and gloomy enough to begin with, but when during his father’s harangue he glanced up and saw De Courcy bending his aquiline face over his paper with a slightly sardonic smile, he could stand no more.
To the utter dumfounding of his mother and sisters, and even the irate Judge himself, he pushed his chair back and sprang to his feet with an actual roar of rage and pain. His great body seemed to swell until its size overwhelmed them; his eyes blazed, he shook his tremendous fist.
“Leave me alone!” he shouted, “leave me alone! Yes, I did make a fool of myself! Yes, I did knock a woman down and tear her dress and look like an ass and set the whole room laughing at me, women and all—the best-bred and sweetest of them! It’s all true, every word of it, and more too—more too! And that’s not enough, but my own father serves it up again, and you fellows sit there and grin over it to make it worse. That’s right, pitch in, all of you, and drive me mad and put an end to it.”
He upset his chair and a small negro boy with a plate of waffles, and, striding over the scattered ruins, dashed out of the room with tears of fury in his eyes.
It was the turning-point of his existence. He made his bitter resolve as he walked out of the house down the street. Early as it was, he went straight to Delia, and when he found himself alone with her, poured forth all the misery of his sore heart.
“If I had been born a clod-hopper it would have been better for me,” he said. “I have no place here among men with decently shaped bodies and clear heads. I’m a great clumsy fool, and there’s no help for it. If I’d had more brain, I might have managed the rest; but I’m a dullard too. They may well sneer at me. I think I will go away and bury myself somewhere among the people I ought to have lived among by rights. In some simple country place I might find those who know less than I do, and forget the rest; and perhaps be content enough in time. I shall never marry. I—I suppose you know that, Delia.” And he took her little hand and laid it on his own open palm and sat silent a moment looking at it, and at last suddenly a great drop fell upon it which made them both start. He did not look up at her, but took out his big white handkerchief and wiped the drop gently away and then stooped and kissed the spot where it had fallen. Her own lashes were wet when their eyes met afterwards, and she spoke in a subdued voice.
“I have always liked you very much, Cousin Tom,” she said; “you mustn’t talk of going away. We should miss you much more than you think. I know I should be very sorry.”
“You won’t be here to miss me, Delia,” he answered, sadly.