“As I have said,” went on Mr. Levinger, taking no notice of her interruption, “I am not in a position to give you any details about those circumstances, or even the name of your father, since to do so would be to violate a sacred confidence and a solemn promise.”
“What confidence and what promise, sir?”
Mr. Levinger hesitated a little, then answered, “Your dead father’s confidence, and my promise to him.”
“So, sir, the father who brought me into the world to be the mock of every one made you promise that you would never tell me his name, even after he was dead? I am sorry to hear it, sir, for it makes me think worse of him than ever I did before. Father or no father, he must have been a coward—yes, such a coward that I can hardly believe it.”
“The case was a very peculiar one, Joan; but if you require any such assurance, that I am telling you nothing but the truth is evident from the fact that it would be very easy to tell you a lie. It would not have been difficult to invent a false name for your father.”
“No, sir; but it would have been awkward, seeing that sooner or later I should have found out that it was false.”
“Without entering into argument on the question of the morality of his decision, which is a matter for which he alone was responsible,” said Mr. Levinger, in an irritated voice, “as I have told you, your father decided that it would be best that you should never know his name, or anything about him, except that he was of gentle birth. I believe that it was not cowardice, as you suggest, which made him take this course, but a regard for the rights and feelings of others whom he left behind him.”
“And have I no rights and feelings, sir, and did he not leave me behind him?” Joan answered bitterly. “Is it wonderful that I, who have no mother, should wish to know who my father was? and could he not have foreseen that I should wish it? Was it not enough that he should desert me to be brought up in a public-house by a man who drinks, and a rough woman who hates me and would like to see me as bad as herself, with no one even to teach me my prayers when I was little, or to keep me from going to the bad when I grew older? Why should he also refuse to let me know his name, or the kin from which I come? Perhaps I am no judge of such matters, sir; but it seems to me that if ever a man behaved wickedly to a poor girl, my father has done so to me, and, dead or living, I believe that he will have to answer for it one day, since there is justice for us all somewhere.”
Suddenly Mr. Levinger wheeled round, and Joan saw that his face was white, as though with fear or anger, and that his quick eyes gleamed.
“You wicked girl!” he said in a low voice, “are you not ashamed to call down curses upon your own father, your dead father? Do you not know that your words may be heard—yes, even outside this earth, and perhaps bring endless sorrow on him? If he has wronged you, you should still honour him, for he gave you life.”