Her very words seemed to say as much, and a strange thrill of triumph ran through him, as his eyes flashed, and for the moment he gloried in Cyril Mallow’s disgrace.
He put away the thoughts, though, as a shame unto him, and folding his arms, he tried to master himself, to get his mental balance once again, for it was terribly disturbed by the strange access of emotion that he felt.
No, he said, when he went down to Kilby Farm on that never-to-be-forgotten day, Sage Portlock’s life and his own, that had run on together for so long, had suddenly diverged, and they had been growing farther and farther apart ever since. He could not do this thing. It was impossible. It was a fresh act of cruelty on Sage’s part, and come what might he would not degrade himself by fighting Cyril Mallow’s cause, only afterwards, if he saved him, to reap the scoundrel’s contempt.
“And I should deserve it,” he said, half aloud.
“Yes, my boy,” quavered old Michael, eagerly, as he caught his son’s words and interpreted them to his own wishes. “God bless you, my boy, I knew you would, and she said she knew your good and generous heart, and that night by night she would teach her little ones to love and reverence your name, as they knelt down and prayed for God’s blessing on him who saved their father from disgrace.”
Luke Ross had opened his lips to stop his father’s enthusiastic words, when his excited fancy pictured before him the soft, sweet, careworn face of Sage, his old love, bending over her innocent children, and teaching them, as she held their little clasped hands, to join his name in their trusting prayers, and he was conquered.
He dared not turn, for his face was convulsed, but, sinking sidewise into a chair, he rested his head upon his arm, and, hearing his father approach, motioned with the hand that was free, for him to keep back.
But the old man did not heed the sign. He came forward and laid his trembling hand upon his son’s head.
“God bless you, my noble boy!” he said, fervently. “I knew you would.”
Neither spoke then for a time, and when Luke raised his face once more, it was very pale, as if he were exhausted by the fight.